1.  Healing

Legolas ran lightly along the path toward the training fields.  He had delivered the novice master's message to Ithilden's aide and now was looking forward to the individual archery lesson that was waiting for him back at the novices' fields.  Penntalion, the archery master, had suggested that Legolas might want to learn to shoot two arrows at once.  Legolas had jumped at the chance, and Lómilad, the novice master, had given permission for the unusual one-on-one session.  Legolas had wasted no time in completing this errand and was eagerly heading toward his meeting with Penntalion.

Suddenly his attention was caught by a glimpse of a well-known figure with reddish brown hair who, in the company of another Elf, was walking toward the building that housed the armory and the infirmary.

"Miriwen!" he called, veering off from the straight course he was on and trotting up to the maiden who turned to greet him. "What are you doing here?" he asked, happy to see her but puzzled at her presence in the warriors' area.  He nodded a vague greeting to the tall, dark-haired young Elf who accompanied her.  Legolas had seen him occasionally but, at the moment, he could not remember his name.  Legolas thought that, like Miriwen, he was an apprentice healer.

"Falad and I are going to accompany Belówen as he works today," Miriwen said, sounding excited.  "It will be the first time that we have been allowed to see actual patients, rather than just read lore and work with herbs."

Legolas smiled at her enthusiasm.  "That is wonderful," he said.  "You will be very good with patients. Both of you, I am sure," he added politely, glancing at Falad, who nodded back impassively.

Legolas turned back to Miriwen.  "I was planning to come and visit you tonight, if that is all right," he said.

"Of course," she answered, smiling at him. "I may be a little late, but please come.  I have not seen you in while."

"I will be there," he promised.

"Come, Miri," said Falad.  "We will be late."  He took her arm and steered her toward the door. Legolas stood looking after them, frowning at Falad's hand on Miriwen's arm.  And had Legolas heard correctly?  Had Falad used the familiar form of Miriwen's name?  Even Legolas did not do that in public.

Suddenly, he remembered the alluring archery lesson.  It would not do to keep Penntalion waiting; he might change his mind about providing the special tutoring.  Legolas started hastily down the path again, with thoughts of anything other than archery temporarily driven from his mind.

***

Eilian paced the small chamber, four long strides in one direction and then four in the other.  He had always hated the infirmary, and today he found that he was particularly unsettled.

Then the door opened and Belówen swept in, accompanied by two young Elves, one of whom Eilian recognized as Miriwen, his brother Legolas's friend.  "These are Miriwen and Falad," Belówen was saying.  "They are studying to be healers and are working with me today."

Eilian flashed them a smile and then turned apprehensively back to Belówen. "Sit," the healer ordered.

Eilian sat at the small table in one corner of the room and stretched his left arm out for the healer's inspection.  He had stopped wearing a sling almost two weeks ago, but the badly injured arm was still wrapped in a stiff leather brace that Belówen now unbuckled.  Gently, he lifted Eilian's arm out of the brace and laid it on the table.  Eilian grimaced.  Even he could see that the muscles in his left arm had attenuated badly.  He sighed and looked away as Belówen moved his long, sensitive fingers along the arm.  Both of the apprentices were watching the healer attentively.  Miriwen had a small frown of concentration on her face.  Eilian could not help but smile to himself.  She really was a pretty little creature.  As if feeling his eyes on her, she glanced up at him.  He winked at her conspiratorially, and she blushed and turned hastily back to watching Belówen.

Eilian too looked at the healer now.  His arm must be better this time, he thought.  He had been careful for almost two months now.  He had spent most of his time teaching battle tactics to the novices or serving as Ithilden's adjutant.  He had not lifted anything heavy or tried to use his left arm for anything more strenuous than weighing down the paperwork with which he had been helping Ithilden.  For the paperwork alone, he surely deserved good news.  And his arm felt better.  The throbbing had diminished to such an extent that he noticed it now only when he was very tired.

"Falad," Belówen said, "come and examine Eilian's arm. See what you can feel."  The younger Elf stepped forward and began to check the arm. "He broke it badly in two places over three months ago," Belówen said. "One of the breaks was here."  He showed Falad where to press to feel the healed spot. "Can you find the other?" Belówen asked

Falad probed cautiously.  "Here perhaps?" he said tentatively.

"Good." Belówen agreed.  "Miriwen, you try now. Here is one of the breaks. You find the other."   Falad backed away, and Miriwen placed elegant white hands on Eilian's arm and carefully prodded the muscles, trying to feel what was beneath. Eilian shifted impatiently.  He understood the need to train the young healers, but he wanted to know Belówen's verdict on his arm.

At his movement, Miriwen glanced up at his face.  "Did I hurt you?" she asked concernedly.

"No," he reassured her, with a smile.  "I am simply eager to hear what Belówen judges to be the state of my injury."

"We will let Miriwen tell you," said the healer, unperturbed.  "Do you feel the healed break, Miriwen?"

"I believe so," she nodded. "I think it is here."

"That is right," Belówen said approvingly.  "And what of the muscles?  They were torn when the original injury occurred, and then he injured them again by using the arm before it had healed properly."  Belówen's disapproval was obvious.  Miriwen smiled shyly at Eilian.  He thought that she had probably heard from Legolas exactly how he had re-injured his arm and was less willing to criticize him for it than the older healer was.

"Run your hands over his right arm and see if you can feel the difference between them," Belówen went on.  "Do you feel any misplacement of the muscles?"

Obligingly, Eilian presented his other arm for examination, and Miriwen probed it too.  Finally, she sighed. "I can tell that his left arm is weaker, of course," she said apologetically, "but I cannot find any other difference between the muscles on the two arms."

Belówen looked at her for a moment and then slowly nodded.  He looked at Eilian, who was regarding him with bated breath.  "My lord," he said, "I think that you have finally managed to do what you should have done in the first place and let your arm heal itself."

Eilian blinked, then grinned broadly, and finally laughed aloud.  He leapt to his feet and enfolded Belówen in a huge hug. Then he grabbed Miriwen by the waist and whirled her around, finishing with a kiss on her forehead.  He approached Falad, who backed away hastily, and settled for clasping his hand.

"Now, now," said Belówen hastily.  "Do not get carried away.  You need to rebuild those muscles, but at least you can start doing it now."

Eilian grinned at him, looking like an Elf whose life had just been handed back to him.

***

Ithilden entered his and Alfirin's suite.  He would have time for a leisurely bath before evening meal, he thought. He crossed the sitting room and entered the bed chamber where, with only mild surprise, he found Alfirin who had evidently been resting atop the blankets.  She had heard him entering the suite and was beginning to rise.

"No, do not get up," he protested.  "You need the rest."  He seated himself on the edge of the bed and tenderly brushed a few small tendrils of his wife's hair back from her face.  "How do you feel today?" he asked.

"I am a little tired," she admitted and then placed her hands on her stomach, where the swell of pregnancy was just beginning to show. "The baby is active today," she added.

Ithilden grinned. "My child is like me," he said, "a trouble and a plague to you."  She smiled into his eyes and cupped his cheek in one hand.

He removed his boots and lay down on the bed, pulling her down too with her back to him.  He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close.  "Relax, bess-nín," he murmured into her ear.  They lay quietly together, and gradually their breathing and their heart beats came into harmony and their minds opened to one another.  They did not think in words, but rather felt their way to another.  He sensed her love for him like a clear stream that murmured gently beneath everything he did and was; she felt his devotion to her like a warm fire that enveloped and her and kept her safe. And gradually, his strength began to flow across the bond between them, and her exhaustion, born from nourishing the life within her, eased.

Ithilden slipped his hand lower and laid it protectively over the baby.  And as clearly as if the child had lain in his arms, he knew.  "The baby is a boy," he said, in astonishment.  "We have a son."

She smiled hazily.  "Yes," she said.  "A son, our son."  The baby stirred, and for the first time, they both knew that the movement was a response to their touching it with their minds as well as with their hands on Alfirin's stomach.  He raised up on his elbow, and she turned her face toward him.  They stared at one another in unspoken awe, and then she smiled slowly. "Hello, Ada," she said.

He laughed. "Hello, Nana," he responded and then bent to kiss the side of her neck. Her hair was worked into a single braid that was as thick as his wrist and was fragrant with the spicy soap that she used.  She tilted her head back to bare her throat to him, inviting him to bring his mouth to the point where her blood pulsed just beneath the skin.  He suddenly hesitated, remembering the presence of the baby that they had both sensed just minutes ago.  "I should bathe before evening meal," he said reluctantly.

Alfirin considered.  "I believe that I, too, should bathe," she said and slid back closer to him, nestling her backside into his belly.  He drew in his breath in a sharp hiss. 

"Are you sure that we should be doing this with the baby here?" he asked, rather desperately.

She laughed and rolled toward him.  "We will tell the baby to close his eyes, melethron-nín," she said.   Then she put both hands on the back of his head and drew his mouth down onto hers.

***

Thranduil entered the small family dining room.  It was almost time for evening meal, but only Eilian was present, and he did not seem to be ready to eat.  Thranduil watched his middle son for a moment. Eilian was concentrating so hard on what he was doing that he was unaware of his father's presence.

He had pushed his chair back from the table and sat with his left upper arm clamped to his side and his hand extended in front of him. He held his sword, pointed straight up and was twisting it slowly to point outward and then inward, working the muscles in his damaged forearm. Beads of sweat on his forehead and the strained expression on his face showed the extent to which he was struggling with the weight of his own sword.

Thranduil watched silently.  Of his three sons, Eilian was the one who worried him most.  Ithilden had grown into a responsible, capable commander upon whom Thranduil depended, and, just as important from a father's perspective, he seemed to be happy in his personal life.  Legolas was still at a difficult age, but he was also young enough to be in the care of either the novice masters or Thranduil himself.  But Eilian frightened his father.  He had always craved excitement.  As an elfling, he had suffered repeated minor injuries when he climbed too high, rode too fast, or could not resist creeping into forbidden places.  Now, he would be able to find "excitement" only too easily when he returned to his patrol in the south, and Thranduil feared that one day, he would get himself into a situation from which he could not escape. He knew that Eilian had found his time at home difficult, but Thranduil had sometimes secretly welcomed it.

Eilian lowered his arm with a sigh and suddenly became aware of Thranduil's presence.  He rose to his feet.  "Good evening, Adar," he said politely.

"Good evening, iôn-nín," Thranduil responded.  He glanced at the sword. "Are you bringing weapons to meals now?" he asked mildly.

Eilian grinned.  "Belówen has given me exercises to do to strengthen my arm," he said happily.  "I have decided that following a healer's advice is a good thing after all."

Thranduil smiled wanly back at him.  Despite his misgivings, he could not help being happy for his son, who genuinely enjoyed his dangerous work in the southern reaches of Thranduil's realm and who had, Thranduil knew, been despondent at the thought of losing it.  "Perhaps you could put the sword away for now," he admonished lightly and took his seat.  Eilian sheathed the sword, laid it carefully on the mantelpiece, and joined his father at the table.

The door opened and Legolas came bounding into the room.  "Good evening," he cried happily and slid into his seat.

"You appear to have had a good day," Thranduil observed with amusement.

"I did," Legolas agreed and launched into an account of the archery lesson.  He had just gotten started, however, when Ithilden and Alfirin entered the room.

"I am sorry that we are a bit late, Adar," Ithilden said, seating Alfirin and then taking his own place, "but I needed to bathe before I could be acceptable company."

Thranduil studied them, with one eyebrow raised.  Both of their faces were relaxed and happy, and Alfirin's hair was clearly just as damp as Ithilden's.  Not wishing to violate the young couple's privacy, Thranduil kept his comments to himself, but Eilian was not so discreet.

"Are you sure you did not find one another to be 'acceptable company' and that is why you are late?" he asked blithely.

Ithilden smiled sheepishly at him, and Alfirin blushed.  With the modesty of the young when confronted by his elders' sexuality, Legolas too blushed.  Then, as if reminded by something, he said, "Adar, I meant to tell you that I will be going to see Miriwen this evening."

"Very well," Thranduil nodded, looking serene while privately hoping devoutly that Ithilden and Alfirin's actions had not reminded Legolas too directly of his plans for the evening.

"Miriwen was with Belówen when he examined me today," Eilian told Legolas.  Thranduil settled back and listened to his family share the news of their day as the meal was served and eaten.  But his eyes kept coming back to Ithilden and Alfirin, sitting next to one another and occasionally touching hands or brushing against one another.  And his happiness for them was touched with the longing he still felt for his own wife, who had been in the Halls of Mandos for more than thirty years.

He found himself remembering the almost overwhelming joy they had shared when Lorellin had been carrying Ithilden.  Was it wrong, he wondered, to be jealous of his oldest son?  He did not begrudge Ithilden the love that had enriched his life, but he passionately wished that he could have back what he had had, if only for a day.

***

Legolas found Miriwen's mother and father sitting on the bench outside their cottage enjoying the summer evening and watching Miriwen's baby sister playing in the grass.  "Good evening, Legolas," Miriwen's mother said. "Miri is not home yet, but sit with us for a while and tell us about your day."

Legolas drew up a stool and sat down next to them.  "Penntalion is teaching me to shoot two arrows at once," he began happily.

"How wonderful," Miriwen's mother murmured, and he went on with his account. The baby managed to play quietly for a while but then grew increasingly fretful.  She pulled herself up against her father's knees, whining slightly, and he scooped her into his arms and stood up.

"I will go and put this tired elfling to bed," he said and carried the little one off, rubbing her eyes with plump little hands.

"How is Alfirin faring?" Miriwen's mother asked.

"She is well, I think," answered Legolas. "She is tired much of the time though."

Miriwen's mother nodded. "That is normal," she said.  "It takes much strength and energy to bear a child.  I saw Ithilden walking with her the other day.  He looked as if he had the sun and the moon in his keeping.  He reminded me of the way Thranduil looked when your naneth was carrying you."

Legolas looked at her with interest.  His mother had been killed when he was ten, and he had only vague memories of her.  "Did you know my naneth?" he asked tentatively.

"Not really," she answered.  "I grew up in a village half a day's ride from here and came to live here only when I married.  And, of course, I did not have any real contact with the king and queen." She smiled at him.  "But I came across your naneth in the woods one day when I was carrying Miriwen and she was carrying you.  She was sitting against a beech tree, singing to herself.  It took me a moment to recognize her, for she was barefoot and her hair was down loose. And even more unusual, she was without attendants."

Legolas was fascinated by this picture of his mother. "Go on," he urged, hungry for more.

Miriwen's mother closed her eyes as if she were remembering.  "When I realized who she was, I was so startled that I gasped out a question about what she was doing there.  Then I was embarrassed, because obviously it was not my place to question the queen about her movements. But she laughed and said, 'I needed to get away from my husband for a while.  You know what they are like.'"  Miriwen's mother opened her eyes and smiled at Legolas again. "She really wanted to talk as one pregnant woman to another, I think. 'He treats me like something precious and breakable that has to be packed in cotton wool and kept in the palace,' she told me. 'And I wanted to be with my son in the woods.' And she put her hands on her stomach as if she were already caressing and protecting you."

For reasons he could not explain, Legolas suddenly felt tears in his eyes.  He turned hastily away, so that Miriwen's mother would not see.

"Ah, here is Miriwen now," said her mother.  And Miriwen came up the path, accompanied by Falad, the other apprentice healer whom she had been with when Legolas had seen her that morning.  Legolas looked at them with narrowed eyes.  He had decided that he did not like Falad.

"Good evening, Falad," said Miriwen's mother.  "Your naneth has been watching for you, I think."

"Good evening," he responded.  "I had better not linger then."  He nodded to Legolas and went on to the next cottage, where he let himself in.

Miriwen's mother rose. "Come in, you two," she said. "I have your evening meal for you, Miri.  Would you like something to eat too, Legolas?" The two younger Elves followed her into the cottage and sat down at the kitchen table, where Miriwen began to tell about her day.

TBC

AN:  I am drawing on Tolkien's "Laws and Customs among the Eldar" for some of the ideas in this fic.  In that essay, Tolkien tells us that Elves were pregnant for a year and that most children were born in the spring.  He also says that "in the begetting, and still more in the bearing of children, greater share and strength of their being, in mind and in body, goes forth than in the making of mortal children" (212).

2. Visions of Danger

(July)

Thranduil entered the family's sitting room to find a repeat of the scene he had earlier witnessed upon entering the dining room.  This time, Eilian sat with his sword in his left hand, his arm wrapped around the top of his head so that the blade dangled by his right ear. He was tightening his shrunken muscles to bring the sword to horizontal without moving the rest of his arm.  He stopped and rose on seeing Thranduil.

"Surely you have done enough for the first day," Thranduil chided him more sharply than he had intended.  He was both dismayed and a little annoyed at Eilian's determined eagerness to be away again and into danger.

At his tone, Eilian looked suddenly wary.  "I think perhaps you are right," he said and put the sword aside.  "I was intending to go out anyway," he added, "and with your leave, I will be on my way."

For reasons he could not explain, Thranduil's annoyance deepened.  "No," he responded. "I wish to speak with you."  He settled in one of the chairs near the fire and motioned Eilian back into the other.  His son sat reluctantly, a resigned expression on his face.  "Eilian," he asked, "why are you so impatient to be gone?"

Eilian sighed. "Adar," he began, "I am useless here, and I am needed in the south."

"The southern patrol seems to have gone right on functioning without you," Thranduil cut in, rather brutally.  "I grant that you are a superb captain for it, but Galan seems to have things well in hand, so do not tell me that you must hurry back in order to prevent disaster."

Eilian flushed.  He, too, was beginning to grow angry.  "Adar, what would you have me say?  If I were reluctant to go back, you would not approve of that either."

"No, I would not," Thranduil snapped. "You and your brothers have a duty to the realm.  But you go beyond dutiful defense of the realm against danger, Eilian.  You rush to meet it headlong and embrace it like a friend.  Is home so unpleasant to you that you prefer to battle with Orcs?"

"Of course not," Eilian responded, struggling to keep his tone respectful.

"Then why do you behave like an elfling waiting for his begetting day?" Thranduil asked. "Danger will be there waiting for you.  Can you not stay in the same room with me for an evening?  Can you not at least pretend to enjoy your time at home?"

"Adar, will you listen to yourself?" Eilian cried.  "How can I stay here when you are determined to be angry with me?  We will only quarrel."

"Are you saying that I am the reason you wish to rush back to the southern patrol?" Thranduil asked sharply.

"Of course not," Eilian said.  He bit his lip and said no more.  This was not the first time that he and Thranduil had had this same argument.  He had probably been younger than Legolas when it had happened the first time.  When his mother had been alive, her presence had always eased the tension between him and his father, but her death had left them floundering on their own.

In the communion that exists between Elven parent and child, thoughts of Lorellin had sprung to her husband's mind as they had to her son's. Thranduil found himself remembering that Lorellin had always claimed that the tension between them came from Eilian's resemblance to his grandfather Oropher.  "You scold him because you are afraid he will leave you," she had said.  "But, meleth-nín, can you not see that you drive him away?"

With his wife's voice in his ear, Thranduil, like Eilian, pulled himself up short. He regarded the flushed face of his son and suddenly felt the mixture of love and fear that had flooded through him when this one was small.  "Do not be so eager to leave me, iôn-nín," he said softly, "not to return to battle and, even more, not to throw your life away in a careless moment."

Eilian stared at him, his own anger draining away in response to his father's new tone.  "I admit that I like the excitement of battle," he finally said, "but I swear to you, I am not careless, and I will not be."  He leaned forward and put his hand on his father's arm.  "Adar, I love you and my brothers. You know that I do.  But I cannot bear sitting still and waiting for the enemy to find us.  I need to go out and hunt for him."

Thranduil held his son's gaze for a moment, flint-hard grey eyes meeting eager dark ones. Thoughts of Oropher troubled him again, and then he nodded reluctantly.  There was no point in chiding Eilian for what he could not help feeling.  "Will you not stay in tonight, at any rate?" he asked.  "You will be gone soon enough."

Eilian had plainly been preparing to rise, but now he paused. "Of course, if you wish it," he said carefully.

"I do," said Thranduil.  At that moment, Ithilden entered the room, and they both turned to him, relieved to have the tension of the moment broken by the arrival of another.

"Am I interrupting something?" Ithilden asked, hesitating.

His father shook his head and Ithilden drew up a third chair.  He had been called out by one of his captains soon after evening meal and was only now returning. To Thranduil, his oldest son looked exhausted, and while the king rejoiced in Alfirin's pregnancy, he regretted the strain it placed on Ithilden when he had such heavy responsibilities elsewhere.

Ithilden drew breath and looked at them. "Did Alfirin tell you that the baby is a boy?" he asked.

Eilian crowed.  "That is a punishment for your own bad behavior, brother," he cried.

A slow smile spread over his father's face.  "No, she did not tell us," he said.  He laughed softly.  "A daughter would have been a nice change," he said, "but you will find that sons are rewarding too. As well as sometimes maddening," he added, thinking of the encounter that he and Eilian had just had.

Ithilden smiled in return.  "Do you know," he said, "when I realized today that we would have a son, I suddenly wondered if you felt the way I feel now when naneth was carrying me."

"Did you feel overwhelmingly happy, fiercely protective, terrified, and slightly stunned at the same time?"  Thranduil answered dryly. "If so, then that was indeed how I felt."

Ithilden laughed and then turned serious. "How have you survived it three times?" he marveled.  "How have you stood watching us all become warriors?  How do you manage to stay so calm when we come to harm?"

Eilian shifted uncomfortably.  The talk was now skirting too close to the matter that he and Thranduil had been arguing about.  He glanced at his father and found him looking serious too.

"I have no choice," Thranduil told Ithilden, "and unless things change for the better, neither will you."

Ithilden regarded him soberly.  "I think you impress me more all the time, Adar," he said simply and rose.  "With your leave, I will go and see how Alfirin is," he said.  He bent and kissed his father's forehead. "Good night, both of you," he said and left the room.

Eilian regarded his father.  "I will be careful, Adar," he said. "I have no wish to leave you all permanently."

His father smiled wryly. "Good," he said.  Then he turned the topic.  "I would not admit it to Legolas," he said, "but I am actually waiting for him to come home before I retire for the night.  I do not like to go to bed until I know that he is safely inside the palace."

Eilian grinned. "The brat is trying his wings, I see," he said.  "That little Miriwen is a sweet creature.  He could have chosen much worse for a first love."

His father snorted.  "He is too young to be talking of love," he said severely, but Eilian only smiled.

They did not have long to wait, for Legolas was not very late this evening, and indeed he seldom was when he went to visit Miriwen.  Her parents were sensible people who did not allow the young couple to wander far.  Often when he came home, he simply said good night and went to his own chamber, but tonight he came into the sitting room and seemed ready to talk.

"Miriwen's naneth told me a story tonight, Adar," he said and went on to recount the tale about Lorellin that Miriwen's mother had told him.  As he spoke, Thranduil's face softened, and he found himself once again deep in memories of his wife. Tonight seemed to be the night for it.

"That sound like your naneth," he said when Legolas had finished.  "She loved the woods as much as you do, I believe.  That summer she was carrying you, she spent as much time among the trees as she could.  She said that you had told her you wanted to be there with her."  He smiled slightly at Legolas, who was listening avidly.  "She loved you and loves you still, you know," he added. "Both of you."

Eilian looked away, and Legolas felt tears sting his eyes again, as they had when he was listening to Miriwen's mother. "Tell us more about her, Adar," he said.  "Even if you have told us the stories before, tell us them again."  And he and Eilian both leaned forward to listen as their father talked much farther into the night that was wise for any of them.

***

Ithliden stirred in his sleep, for the path of his dreams had taken a turn that he had not expected.  Figures were struggling in a clearing.  A sword flashed brightly.  He needed to do something, but he was not quite sure what.  Someone was hurt. Someone fell. He strained to see the face of the fallen warrior, but he could not.  "This is my fault," he thought, and then he awakened with a start, his heart beating rapidly.  He lay quietly for a moment trying to make sense of the dream but found that he could not. He rolled toward Alfirin and wrapped his arms lightly around her.  In the protective circle of his arms, she sighed and slid more deeply into sleep, but he lay awake until the warmth of his wife's body soothed him and the dream faded.

***

Eilian drifted on the wings of a very pleasant dream about the maiden he had visited two nights ago.  He felt her soft breath tickling his ear as she whispered to him.  "They will hurt him," she unexpectedly said. "You must hurry."  They ran through the woods together, but her form was changed now into that of a warrior.  There were other warriors running nearby.  It was his responsibility to command them, and he was not sure which way they should go.  He tried to see what lay ahead, but he could not find the right path.  "We will be too late," he thought in despair.  "I have made a mistake."  Then, suddenly, he was once again on the novice training mission that he had taken with Legolas two months ago.  Legolas was sliding over the edge of a precipice, and Eilian was reaching for him.  "I must hurry," he thought again, and then he flew off the edge of the cliff and sailed away, with eagles for his only company.

***

Legolas nocked the two arrows carefully and drew his bow.  The bowstring twanged musically in his right ear, and the arrows flew straight and true toward the target at the other end of the field.  "Good," said Thranduil, who seemed to be acting as archery master. "You will be able to defend the people."   Legolas felt the joy of someone who is doing the thing that he has been born to do.  Suddenly, he looked again, for the target had begun to move.  And then it was not a target at all but an enemy warrior, and Legolas saw with surprise that the enemy was a Man.

Indeed, now an army of strange Men was sweeping toward him.  Legolas had seen Men occasionally but never any who were dressed and armed like these. Legolas looked around for Thranduil, but his father was no longer there.  He leapt down onto the ground and began advancing, following the captain with the flashing sword who led him forward.  "Perhaps it is not just the bow that I was born for," he thought.  "Perhaps it is to use my bow now."  And then a bird cried and his heart began to sing a new song of longing for something that he could not name. On some level, he knew that he was dreaming, and he reached out to wrench the dream back to the path he had been following before the army appeared. "Not yet," he thought. "Not yet."

***

Thranduil was dreaming about Lorellin.  She led him through the forest, laughing teasingly and refusing to answer when he asked where they were going.  Her feet were bare, and her dark hair was loose around her face.  And then she was no longer laughing.  Arrows had begun to fly through the trees and the sound of swords could be heard at no great distance ahead.  "Save him!" she cried.  "He is our son."  Thranduil leapt into the trees and raced forward, searching for the son who was caught in the battle.  A sword flashed.  Someone fell.  He stretched out his arms toward that falling warrior, trying to see who it was, but in the chaos of battle, everyone was swept away from him and he was left with the sound of Lorellin's weeping in his ears.

He sat straight up in his bed, gasping at the vividness of the dream.  After a moment, he rose, put on a night robe, and began walking along the corridor of the family's living quarters.  He knew that the guards at the end of the hall had seen him, but they were much too well-trained to acknowledge that fact.  He paused quietly outside the door of each son.  He did not enter the rooms, for he did not wish to violate their privacy and, moreover, he assumed that by now they all slept with their daggers to hand, and he did not wish to be injured if he startled one of them.  But outside each door, he listened and tested the bond that had tied him to each of them since before they were born.  Having assured himself that they were each all right, he returned to his own room but not to his bed.  Instead, he sat long, staring into the fire.

AN:  In "Of Re-Birth and Other Dooms of Those that Go to Mandos," Tolkien says, the fëa [soul/spirit] of a child "draws nourishment from the parents before the birth of the child: directly from the fëa of the mother while she bears and nourishes the hrondo [bodily form], and mediately but equally from the father, whose fëa is bound in union with the mother's and supports it... It was for this reason that all parents desired to dwell together during the year of bearing, and regarded separation at that time as a grief and injury, depriving the child of some part of its fathering. 'For,' said they, 'though the union of the fëar of the wedded is not broken by distance of place, yet in creatures that live as spirits embodied, fëa communes with fëa in full only when the bodies dwell together'" (Morgoth's Ring, 221).  So I'm exploring that a little with Ithilden and Alfirin.

3. Strategic Moves

(August)

"It is almost always bad tactics to split your forces," Eilian was saying. "If you do that, you make it harder to maintain communication and discipline, and if your timing is off, the enemy can engage part of your forces with all of his.  That can mean heavy losses for you."  He looked around at the nineteen novices, ranging in age from Legolas, who had recently turned forty-two to Tynd and Calorfil, who would come of age in the next spring and become fully-fledged Mirkwood warriors.  May the Valar keep any of them from making that mistake, he thought grimly.  He eyes briefly met those of Lómilad at the back of the room.  The look on the novice master's face suggested that he, too, remembered the battle in which a Mirkwood captain had mistimed the encounter of his divided force with a troop of Orcs.  The results would have been harrowing had another group of warriors not arrived by pure chance.

"So," Eilian went on, "if you cannot split your forces, then what can you do that will work to your advantage in the terrain I've described?"

A serious looking young Elf with very dark hair raised his hand.  Eilian nodded at him, "Nálas?"  Nálas would not come of age for three years yet, but he was already showing signs of being a strategic thinker.

"I think it would be possible to ambush them when they cross the bridge," Nálas offered.

Eilian nodded. "Good," he said. "Anything that restricts your enemy's mobility can help you, even if you are outnumbered, as I am telling you that you are here."  He looked around the room.  "Vorion," he said sharply, calling to attention one of the younger novices whose gaze was directed out the window, "what would you do in the situation I have described?"

There was a moment's pause while Vorion tried to guess what it was that Eilian was talking about.  None of the other novices looked at him. "I am sorry," he finally said, his face flaming, "I was not listening."

"Then start listening," Eilian snapped.  "Every warrior needs to understand tactics.  A captain may be killed or separated from his forces.  You cannot predict what you will need to know to survive and protect your warrior companions."

"I am sorry," said Vorion again, miserably.

Eilian felt a stab of sympathy, which he ruthlessly repressed.  Vorion tended to be dreamy at the best of times and was no one's idea of a prospective captain, but what Eilian had said was true.  All warriors did need to learn tactics.

Legolas watched his brother with interest.  He was dismayed at how easily Eilian slipped into being a stern master, but he also felt the surge of respect that he always felt when one of his older brothers displayed the competence marking them as leaders of the Mirkwood warriors.  He did not see often see these strengths at home, where they were simply his sometimes annoying older brothers.

He would be sorry to see Eilian leave and go back to his patrol, he thought, but leave soon, he inevitably would.  Legolas had seen him working at the archery range with an increasingly heavy draw weight on his bow.  His arm was rapidly returning to its former power; his days on restricted duty with the novices were nearing an end.

"What else could you do besides ambush the Orcs on the bridge?" Eilian asked again.

Legolas studied the drawing that Eilian had laid out before them and raised his hand.  Eilian nodded at him.  "You might be able to draw the Orcs into the ravine with a fake retreat," he suggested tentatively.  "Then you could attack them from the ridges."  A week ago, Eilian had talked about the usefulness of presenting false weak spots to the enemy, and it seemed to Legolas that the sight of retreating Elves might lure Orcs into charging into the trap he was describing.

"You would have to be lucky," Galelas said with a snort.  "Your warriors would be vulnerable while they were fleeing."  Legolas made a face but hesitated to respond to the other novice.  Galelas was seldom able to resist trying to show his superiority over his fellow novices, especially Legolas. The two of them had gradually learned to restrain from actual hostilities, but Galelas could not keep from fomenting constant rivalry.

To Legolas's relief, Calorfil now spoke up.  He and Tynd were the two oldest novices, and Legolas admired them both.

"There is a difference between a false retreat and fleeing," Calorfil said.  "The retreat would be organized and orderly.  Presumably you would offer some resistance as you went to make sure that things did not get out of hand.  I think that Legolas's idea is a good one."

Legolas quickly smothered a pleased smile.

"It seems workable to me," Eilian said rather coolly.  He worked hard at not showing favoritism to Legolas, but it was a tricky line to tread because he needed to be able to tell the other novices when an answer that Legolas had given was a good one. And he was aware of the tension between his brother and Galelas and tried not to increase it.  "Galelas is right that forces ordinarily are vulnerable during a retreat," he added, "but, as Calorfil says, this would not be a real retreat."

Galelas looked mollified but only just, and Eilian felt a surge of irritation at his persistent trouble making.  He was a promising warrior, and if he stopped worrying about what everyone else was doing and concentrated on his own skills, he would be even better.  Eilian's relation to Legolas meant that he was in a bad position to talk to Galelas about this. He would suggest that Lómilad do it.

Tynd was now asking a question.  "How useful have you found battle plans to be really? I have always thought that a battle plan lasted only until the first blow was struck, and after that, what happened was unpredictable."  Calorfil, who was sitting next to him, was nodding as Tynd spoke.

Eilian grinned, amused by the youths' healthy skepticism.  "There is truth to that," he said, "but you had better have a plan ahead of time if you hope to have any kind of coordinated action.  Once the battle starts, it is too late."

Lómilad was now rising to his feet.  "Our time is up for today," he said.  "You are dismissed until tomorrow morning."  With a whisper of light Elven feet and an outbreak of young male voices, the novices got to their feet and headed out the door.

Eilian gathered up the charts he had brought and moved slowly toward the back of the room, where Lómilad had cornered the daydreaming Vorion and was speaking to him quietly.  With a final firm admonition, he sent the chastened novice on his way and turned to Eilian.  "You do a good job with them, Eilian," he said. "They were interested."

Eilian laughed.  "Even Vorion?" he asked.

Lómilad snorted.  "He is perfectly capable of doing much better than he does, if he could get his head out of the clouds."

"And Galelas?" asked Eilian.  "It seems to me that he would do better than he does if he were not so driven to prove that he is better than everyone else."

"Meaning better than Legolas," said Lómilad promptly.  "I will speak to him about it again, but I suspect they will eventually need to be assigned somewhere apart."  The two of them strolled out into the late afternoon sunshine.  "So how much longer do you expect to be with us?" he asked.

Eilian smiled happily.  "I hope to be gone by next week," he answered.  "Belówen is supposed to take another look at my arm tomorrow.  If he says I am fit for active duty, then it is just a matter of Ithilden signing the papers."

"We will be sorry to lose you," Lómilad told him.  "And I imagine your family will miss you."

Eilian shrugged.  "They are used to my being away," he said. "And I really cannot tell you how eager I am to get back to my own warriors.  It has been much too long since I have hunted the enemy."  A feral gleam flashed for a moment across his normally amiable face.

An echoing smile crossed the novice master's face.  They had trained this one well.

***

Legolas and Annael walked slowly along the path leading from the training fields.  “Did you see how precisely and evenly Tynd winds the thread when he fletches?” Legolas asked.  “And he uses those lovely long swan feathers!”  The novices had spent part of the morning in the armory fletching arrows. 

Annael frowned.  “Surely they reduce the length of his shot,” he said practically.

Legolas shrugged. “Perhaps, but he says they make the arrow's flight more stable.  And it looks very elegant,” he added, with an Elven appreciation of aesthetics.

Annael shifted the subject.  "Do you think that you will you be able to get away at all tonight?"  For the last several nights, the Wood-elves had been treated to an unusually thick display of shooting stars, beginning each night about an hour after darkness.  In thrilled response, they had been assembling to feast on the green in front of Thranduil's palace and then watch the star shower together.  Thranduil had presided over the celebrations with his family in attendance.

As recently as a year ago, Legolas would have been excused from playing a part in the pageantry and allowed to spend the evenings with his friends.  Increasingly, however, Thranduil expected him to assume the responsibilities that fell to him as the king's son. As a consequence, Legolas had spent most of his time on these evenings dressed in formal robes and sitting quietly with his family while Elves approached to pay their respects to Thranduil.

"Adar says I must dine with the family but that I may watch the star shower with my friends if I come right back afterwards," Legolas answered.  "Everyone is engrossed in the sky then anyway, so I do not need to be at his side."  Legolas understood that being who he was meant that he had responsibilities as well as privileges, and he had been raised to accept those responsibilities without complaint, but he had found these evenings long despite his genuine enjoyment of the display in the sky.

"Good," said Annael. Then he grinned.  "And which 'friend' do you intend to watch with?" he asked in a teasing voice.

Legolas grinned back.  "Do you mind?" he asked apologetically.

Annael laughed.  "No," he said.  "Give her a kiss for me."

***

Legolas glanced at Eilian, seated to his right next to their father.  Like Legolas, Eilian wore a brown silk robe banded in gold over a green silk tunic and deep brown leggings.  And, like Legolas, his forehead was bound by a narrow gold circlet.  Legolas knew that Eilian was probably at least as bored as he was, but it would have been impossible to tell that from his expression.  Legolas had once asked him how he managed to look so serene during court occasions.  "Years of practice at daydreaming," he had promptly answered, and then added thoughtfully, "and sometimes one can actually sleep, if Adar is busy enough."  Legolas strongly suspected that Eilian was asleep now.

Legolas would never have had the guts to sleep while sitting next to Thranduil, but he admired Eilian's nerve.  Now he carefully nudged his older brother, who came to with only a very small start. "Ask Adar if I may leave," he said.  "It is nearly time, surely."

Eilian blinked a few times and then turned to Thranduil.  "Will you allow the brat to be on his way, Adar?" he asked.  "He seems to think that he has suffered enough."

Thranduil gestured permission to Legolas, who promptly slipped away from the table.  Then the king turned to eye Eilian.  "Is sleeping on duty permitted in the southern patrol?" he asked coolly.

Eilian gave a minute grimace. "No," he responded.

"Nor is it here," said Thranduil.  "It is time you grew up, Eilian. Moreover, you might remember that Legolas watches you."   Eilian pressed his lips together but wisely said nothing, and Thranduil turned back to his people.

Legolas made his way through the crowd of Elves, realizing not for the first time that they both noticed him more and drew back from him more when he was in formal garb.  He would not be addressed as "my lord" until he was of age, and the Elves around him still greeted him simply as Legolas.  But even so he could feel people's attitude toward him beginning to change as he drew nearer toward adulthood, and that made him slightly uncomfortable.

Toward one edge of the green, he found Miriwen and Annael, sitting together and talking.  As he approached them, he saw to his displeasure that Falad was also with them.  All three of them greeted him, and he paused beside them, removing his circlet as he did so.  He rubbed his forehead lightly, to ease the slight headache it had caused.

"Does your head hurt?" Falad asked with a serious expression.  "There are herbs that we could recommend."

"No, thank you," said Legolas a little stiffly.  He did not want Falad playing the healer with him.  "It will go away quickly on its own."

"You look very nice," said Miriwen. "I like the circlet."

He turned to her.  "Come with me a little way into the woods, Miriwen," he invited.  "I know the perfect place to watch the stars."  Falad's eyes narrowed, but Legolas ignored him, and Miriwen accepted the hand that Legolas offered to help her to her feet.  The two of them strolled away, holding hands. Falad frowned after them and then turned to find Annael smiling at him blandly.

"They should not go off on their own," Falad said stiffly.

"I think that they are capable of deciding that for themselves," said Annael pleasantly.  Then someone in the crowd gave a cry as the first star shot across the sky, and both of them turned to watch, letting the matter drop.

Legolas led Miriwen to a small clearing not far from the green, where wild flowers bloomed by day and even now the air was pleasantly scented with growing things.  He pulled off his robe and spread it on the ground for them to lie on, the better to see the sky.  She nestled close to him with her head on his shoulder and his arm lightly around her.  He was satisfyingly aware of the warmth of her body against his, and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

Then both of them were caught by the magic in the sky.  Stars streaked across the night, coming out of nowhere and fading into nothing, but dazzling the Elves while they lasted.  "Elbereth," sighed an awed Legolas, and Miriwen nodded in wordless agreement.

Finally, the frequency of glittery streaks began to diminish, and Legolas's mind turned to the maiden he held enfolded in his arm.  "Miri," he began tentatively, "how well do you know Falad?"  This was not quite the question that he wanted to ask, but it would have to do because the real question made him sound far too distressed about Falad's presence.

But Miriwen knew him well by now. After a moment's pause, she answered, "He has lived next door to me always, and he is a friend."  She raised herself up on her elbow and looked at him, and even as he listened to her, he was painfully aware of her breast brushing against his chest.  "He is like a brother to me," she said and smiled a sweet smile that nearly made him dizzy.  He had to fight to keep breathing as she leaned forward and kissed him.

***

"Where is Legolas?" Thranduil asked Eilian.  "He should be back by now."  He was annoyed.  He had given his youngest son leave to be gone during the star shower but told him to be back when it was done, and, so far as he was concerned, Legolas had taken advantage of his generosity.  Thranduil considered sending an attendant to look for Legolas and thus keep two of his sons with him, but he decided that confining knowledge of bad behavior within the family was more important.  "Go and find him," he ordered Eilian and then turned to listen to the elegantly dressed courtier who was proposing a change in a minor trade agreement.  When he stopped speaking, Thranduil would tell him to bring the matter up in court, but for now, he simply listened with a sympathetic expression.

Eilian walked off in the direction he had seen Legolas take and soon found Annael and Falad still sitting together, although they had run out of conversation long ago. Annael was feeling too lazy to move, and Falad was keeping an eye out for Miriwen's return.

Eilian nodded to Falad, whom he recognized from the infirmary, and addressed Annael. "Do you know where Legolas is?" he asked.

"I could not say," Annael responded promptly, causing Falad to stare at him with open mouth.

"He took that path into the woods," Falad told Eilian, pointing. Annael looked at him with open hostility.

Eilian raised his eyebrows at the two of them.  He was not sure what was going on here, but he did not have time to find out with an irate Thranduil waiting for him to return with Legolas in tow.  He started down the path and had not gone far before he found Legolas in the company of Miriwen. He should have known, he thought.  This was not the first time he had found these two together in the woods.  The first time had been a year and more ago at Ithilden's wedding.

The young couple was lying side by side and kissing with their arms wrapped around one another.  Not surprisingly, they were so absorbed in what they were doing that they had failed to hear Eilian approach.  He groaned to himself.  Anyone could have come along this path, he thought.  He supposed it was hard to find privacy indoors at their age, but still!  He thought about surprising them, and thus, he hoped, teaching them a lesson in discretion, but consideration for Miriwen's feelings led him to be kinder.

He backed up a bit and called Legolas's name. Then he walked toward them again to find them sitting next to one another with a foot of space between them.  He smiled reassuringly at Miriwen and then turned to Legolas.  "Adar wants you, brat," he said.  "You are late getting back to son-of-Thranduil duty."

Legolas gave a cry of dismay and jumped to his feet, while Eilian helped a blushing Miriwen to hers.  Attempting to put her as ease, he said smoothly, "You look very nice in that gown, Miriwen. The color goes with your hair."  She looked at him thankfully.  He offered her his arm and then looked at Legolas who was attempting to shake grass off the silk robe.  "What have you done with your circlet?" he asked.

Legolas hunted around a bit and found the thin metal band under a bush.  He slid the robe over his tunic and adjusted the circlet on his head.  Eilian grinned at him and bit back a comment to the effect that he looked like he had been rolling around in the grass with a maiden although, as a matter of fact, he did.  Miriwen would be embarrassed and Legolas too was clearly feeling uncomfortable. There was a limit to how far even Eilian was willing to go in teasing his little brother.  "Come," he said and led them back to the green, with Miriwen's hand through his arm.  "Just your touch makes my arm feel better," he said with exaggerated gallantry, and she laughed, obviously feeling more at ease.  He left Miriwen in the company of Falad and Annael, who were glaring at one another, and guided Legolas back to their father.

Fortunately for Legolas, Thranduil was occupied with another courtier.  For the moment, he could spare only a severe glance for his errant youngest son.  But when he had a moment, he beckoned Legolas out of his chair and pulled his son's head down so that his ear was close to Thranduil's mouth.  "You forget yourself," he said sternly.  "I do not know what you have been doing, although I can guess, but self-indulgence is not a characteristic I encourage."  Then he sent the chastened youth back to his place.

***

That night, Thranduil dreamed about Lorellin again.  Again, she led him through the forest, looking like a wood nymph with her bare feet and loose dark hair.  Again, she would not tell him where they were going. And again, her laughter turned to cries of fear.  Arrows flew through the trees and swords clashed nearby.  "Save him!" she cried.  "He is our son."  Again, Thranduil leapt into the trees and raced forward, searching for the son who was caught in the battle.  A sword flashed.  Someone fell.  He stretched out his arms toward that falling warrior, trying to see who it was.  Again he was frustrated in his desire to see.  He could only guess wildly at which son was endangered.  He awoke with a start and lay quiet for a brief time, while his heart slowed.  Then he rose and sat near the fire, thinking.

In his long life, Thranduil had occasionally had prophetic dreams.  They did not come often, and when he was younger, he had had difficulty recognizing them as prophetic until the events they foretold came to pass.  He rather thought that all Wood-elves had these dreams occasionally, although they seldom talked about them, reluctant to appear foolish if they had judged the dream incorrectly. Stiff necks did not always make for open conversations.

Thranduil was uncertain of the nature of this dream because it matched only too well with what he thought in his waking hours, so perhaps it only showed him his fears in another form.  But he had had the dream twice now, and he decided that he was taking no chances. In the morning, he would act.

4. Duty

(August)

Thranduil's family was interrupted as they sat at their morning meal the next day.  "My lord," the attendant announced, "a messenger has come for Lord Ithilden."

"By your leave, Adar," Ithilden said and left the room.  He returned a short time later, looking perturbed.

"What is it?" Thranduil asked.

"Late yesterday, a patrol from the Home Guard was investigating some caves along the Forest River.  Apparently, they had had a report of a stranger in the area.  While they were in the cave, there was a rockslide."  He paused and shook his head.  "The underground rivers along there make the whole cave system very unstable.  They were lucky that most of them got out of the way in time, but Deler waited to be sure they were all out, and he was caught." Deler was the captain of the Home Guard unit, which provided the sentries for the palace and patrolled the areas near it.  "He is grievously injured. Belówen is not sure he will recover," Ithilden said grimly.

Cries of dismay greeted his announcement.  "How could he not have heard the slide and moved in time?" Legolas asked in shock.

"He was seeing to his warriors," Ithilden said simply.  He took the sympathetic hand that Alfirin reached out to him and put it to his lips briefly. "I should go and see what I can sort out," he told Thranduil, obviously expecting immediate leave to do so.

But Thranduil rose too. "I would speak with you first in my office," he said and led Ithilden down the hall.  The king seated himself at his desk and motioned for Ithilden to be seated too, but his son remained on his feet.

"Adar, I need to see Deler and then decide what to do about the Home Guard," he said impatiently.  "Can this not wait?"

"No, it cannot," said Thranduil imperiously.  "Sit."  Ithilden sat on the edge of the chair, obviously ready to be off again.  Thranduil eyed him for a moment and then spoke.  "I want you to post Eilian to the Home Guard," he said.

Ithilden's mouth dropped open.  "The Home Guard?" he echoed stupidly.  Thranduil nodded.  "But he will be furious!" Ithilden protested.  "And besides, it would be a waste of his talents.  He is made for the southern patrol, Adar. You know that he is."

Thranduil was implacable.  "With Deler injured, you need an experienced captain," he said.

"I need someone experienced with the Home Guard," Ithilden corrected.  "Eilian served there for exactly six months when he first came of age.   Then I had to transfer him south.  It was at his own request, but still it was something I had to do.  He was bored and restless and heading for disciplinary trouble.  If he had stayed here, we would never even have known that he could become the talented captain that he is.  He belongs in the unpredictable situations that the south breeds.  He thrives in them."

"If you do not want him captaining the Home Guard, then appoint him as your permanent adjutant," Thranduil said.  "You need the help, Ithilden. Anyone can see that you are wearing yourself out."

"Is that what this is about?" Ithilden asked sharply.  "I can do my job, Adar.  If you have complaints, you might point them out to me."

Thranduil paused for a moment.  "I am not complaining, iôn-nín," he said, more gently, "but you do need help."

"I do not need someone with Eilian's talents," Ithilden said crisply, his feathers still obviously ruffled.  "I can get another aide to help me.  If you like, I will appoint one today."

"Do so," said Thranduil.  Then he added firmly, "But in that case, I am instructing you to appoint Eilian as captain of the Home Guard."

Ithilden's face flushed.  "You would take this decision out of my hands?" he asked.

"Yes," said Thranduil.

"May I ask why?" Ithilden's voice was tight.

Thranduil hesitated.  He did not want Ithilden to think that he lacked confidence in him, and yet he was reluctant to tell his son about the dream.  In the light of day, he feared to appear foolish. He looked to a corner of the room, not meeting Ithilden's eyes.  "I have had the same dream twice," he finally said in a low voice.  "In it, I saw a warrior being shot out of the trees.  I dreamed it first about a month ago and then again last night.  I could not see the warrior's face, but I believe that it was Eilian."  He looked at Ithilden who was staring at him with an odd expression on his face. "I do not know that the dream was prophetic, but I am not willing to take the chance.  It is hard enough to send my sons into danger, but danger is the fate of all of the Woodland Realm's warriors, including my sons. But, Ithilden, when I know – know! - that he will harmed, I cannot send him to that fate. I want him home until whatever was in my dream is past." 

There was a long silence.  "You first dreamed this about a month ago?" Ithilden asked at last.

"Yes.  It was on the night of the day that Belówen said that Eilian's arm was healing," Thranduil said.

Ithilden thought.  "That was the day that Alfirin and I realized that the baby was a boy," he said.  He looked at Thranduil. "That night, I, too, dreamed of a warrior being shot out of a tree.  In my dream, I felt that I should have done something, that the warrior's fall was my fault."

They regarded one another for a moment.

"I cannot tell Eilian that I am assigning him to the Home Guard because we have had dreams," Ithilden said finally. "It would be ridiculous.  I cannot even tell him that it is because you are worried about his safety. I would not take that step if the parent of any other warrior were worried."

"Tell him what you like," said Thranduil, shrugging.  "You are his commanding officer.  In the long run, he is obliged to obey you."

Ithilden grimaced and ran his hand over the dark hair drawn tightly back from his face.  "Very well," he said.  "He is seeing Belówen today to get final approval for active duty. When he comes to see me, I will tell him.  He will not like it," he finished with some apprehension.

"I expect not," said Thranduil grimly and then signaled to Ithilden that he was free to go.

***

Eilian came out of the infirmary and sauntered along the path to Ithilden's office, whistling light-heartedly.  The air in the infirmary had been grim, for Deler still hovered in the twilight between life and death, with the healers unable to predict the outcome, and Eilian had been sober enough in the face of Deler's struggle.  But once he was out of the building, he could not help rejoicing in his approaching escape from feelings of boredom and uselessness.  He entered the outer room of Ithilden's office, and the aide immediately sent him in to see his brother.

Ithilden looked up from the dispatch he was reading, putting his finger on the page to hold his place.  "Close the door and sit down," he said. "I will be but a moment."  He looked tense, Eilian thought.

"Bad news?" he asked when Ithilden finally finished reading.

"What?" Ithilden looked startled.  "Oh, the dispatch.  No, not bad news.  Just routine."

Eilian shrugged.  He had had his fill of the reports that came through Ithilden's office and really did not care what this particular dispatch contained.  "I am happy to tell you that Belówen has declared me fit for active duty," he said with a smile.  "He will send you word later today."

Ithilden glanced down at the dispatch he had been reading.  He tapped it thoughtfully against his desk and then looked up again.  He looked unhappy.  Faint alarms began to sound in the back of Eilian's head.  "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Ithilden sighed. "No," he said.  "Nothing is wrong."  He drew a deep breath.  "I have decided to appoint you captain of the Home Guard," he said.

Eilian blinked. He could not have heard correctly.  "The Home Guard," he echoed.

Ithilden nodded.

"You are joking," Eilian said flatly.

"No, I am not," Ithilden said, his voice firm.  "Deler is seriously injured and may not recover.  I am appointing you as his temporary replacement."

Eilian leapt to his feet.  "You have any number of lieutenants who could be appointed to that place," he snapped angrily.  "And I am eminently unsuited for it.  What are you playing at, Ithilden?"

"Do not take that tone with me," Ithilden ordered, his eyes flashing.  "I am your commanding officer, and I will make whatever decisions I think best."

Eilian visibly struggled for control.  His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.  "For how long?" he asked stiffly.

"I do not know," answered Ithilden. "That will depend partly on how Deler fares."

"Partly?" Eilian asked.  "What else will it depend on?"

For a fraction of a second, Ithilden hesitated.  "On how Alfirin and I fare," he answered.  Eilian looked startled.  "I may need your help," Ithilden said.  This was as far as he had been able to bring himself to go in admitting to weakness.

Eilian stared at him skeptically for a moment and then turned away. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and then turned to face Ithilden again.  "Answer me one thing," he said coldly. "Is this Adar's doing?"

Ithilden looked at him steadily but said nothing.  Eilian smiled bitterly.  "I thought so," he said.

"You will report to your new post tomorrow morning," Ithilden told him.  "You are dismissed."

Eilian put his hand over his heart in a formal salute and then strode from the room, frightening the aide with the look on his face as he passed.

***

Legolas finished winding the thread around the fletching on the last arrow and carefully stood it upright in the container.  This was the second morning that the novices had spent making some arrows for their own personal use and others to be used on the training fields.  All of them had made arrows from the time they first began to use a bow, but the youngest novices had never before made them to the exacting standards of the armorers.  Legolas had been startled to realize that Corfildor, the chief armorer responsible bows and arrows, was the father of his difficult fellow novice, Galelas.

Corfildor now approached to inspect the work that Legolas had been doing.  "Not bad," he said grudgingly. "The nocks are a little too deep, I think, but it is too late to do anything about that now."  He moved on around the table, stopping near his son.  "You are making a mess of that feather," he said rather sharply.  "It is in tatters."

Galelas flushed.  From where Legolas sat, the feather did not look particularly ragged, but Corfildor was notoriously hard to please.  Galelas glanced up in Legolas's direction, and Legolas hastily looked away, not wanting to be caught watching Galelas being scolded.

Tynd now rose from his place and approached Corfildor.  "I beg your pardon, master," he said, "but Lómilad is expecting Galelas, Legolas, Isendir, and Annael for a blade lesson.  He asked me to make sure that they were sent back on time."

Corfildor nodded at the older novice.  "Very well," he said. "They can go. Those who have not finished can do so later this afternoon."  He gestured to the youngest novices, who exited the room into the summer sunshine, glad to be outdoors.

They walked along in two pairs, Galelas and Isendir ahead and Legolas and Annael trailing a short distance behind.  It seemed to Legolas that Galelas was even more irritable than usual.  He had his head down and was ignoring Isendir's attempts at conversation.  He felt a stab of pity that alarmed him because it threatened to disturb his established view of Galelas, and he turned his attention to Annael.

"So what did you and the junior healer talk about last night?" he asked.

"He told Eilian where you were," said Annael indignantly.  "He is really an insufferable prig."

Legolas scowled.  "Miriwen says that he is like a brother to her," he said.

Annael snorted.  "I have never seen either Ithilden or Eilian look at you as he looks at her," he said dryly.

They were nearing the warriors' practice fields, where both of them liked to linger when they could.  The skills of the experienced warriors were often breathtaking to watch.  As they approached, it became obvious that some sort of unusual event was under way.  Warriors were gathered around the edges of the field watching two Elves working with swords.  Instead of the expected hum of conversation and occasional cheers, however, the onlookers were almost silent. Galelas and Isendir had stopped to watch, and Legolas and Annael joined them.

With a start, Legolas saw that one of the battling warriors was Eilian.  Legolas vaguely recognized the other warrior as one of Eilian's friends, but his attention was caught by his brother.  Clutching his sword in a two-handed grip, Eilian swung the weapon in a whirling blur as he backed the other warrior down the field. Eilian's sword work was usually polished and graceful, but this attack was frenzied and almost wild.  Even from where Legolas stood, he could see the grim concentration on Eilian's face. As Legolas watched, Eilian drove his opponent to the ground and knocked the sword from his hand.  He stood over his fallen adversary for a breathless moment, with his own sword at the fallen warrior's throat.  Then he stepped aside, and everyone in the area drew breath.  An uneasy murmur spread through the crowd of watchers.

"Who is next?" Eilian challenged, as his defeated opponent rose and slipped off the field. The watching warriors looked away.  Legolas stared in shock at the familiar figure, who was and was not his brother Eilian.

"What are you novices doing lingering here?" barked a familiar voice.  The four of them spun to find Maldor, the unarmed combat master, glaring at them.  Maldor was sometimes harsh, and Legolas both feared and disliked him, feelings he assumed were shared by every novice Maldor had ever taught, up to and including Eilian.  "If you do not wish to be on report, then I suggest you get yourselves to wherever you are supposed to be," he snapped.  The others moved off immediately, but Legolas hesitated, glancing at Eilian, standing in the middle of the field.  "Now, Legolas!" Maldor said sharply.

Legolas had served two different stretches of night guard duty at Maldor's behest, and he did not wish to serve another.  He also knew that he had just been given the only warning he would get.  He turned and trotted after his three companions, but he could not resist looking back.  Maldor had stepped onto the training field and was marching toward Eilian, determination in every step.  Unexpectedly, Legolas was relieved.  If Thranduil could not be here to deal with this frightening situation, then no one could bring order out of chaos more quickly than Maldor.  Somewhat reassured, Legolas ran to where Annael was waiting for him.

Eilian watched, cursing to himself, as Maldor approached.  He fantasized very briefly about attacking the unarmed combat master, and then, as Maldor reached him, he waited in resignation for the older Elf to open his annoying mouth.

"Get hold of yourself, Eilian," Maldor snapped in a low voice. "You are behaving in a disgracefully uncontrolled manner."

Eilian smiled offensively at him.  "I am a warrior, Maldor, not a minder of elflings.  I occasionally like to remember that."

Maldor narrowed his eyes.  "Give me your sword," he demanded, holding out his hand.  "I will have it sent to the palace for you."

Eilian laughed shortly.  "I think not," he said.  "I have already been deprived of enough today."  He sheathed the sword and walked off the field, disappearing into the woods along its edge.

***

Ithilden was weary to the bone.  He entered his and Alfirin's sitting room to find his wife at her loom, weaving one of the soft, multicolored blankets that she intended to use to protect their child from Mirkwood's winter cold.  She stopped what she was doing when he came in.  "You are late," she said.

"I stopped at the infirmary to check on Deler on my way home," he said, coming to kiss her forehead in greeting.

"How is he?" she asked.

He shook his head.  "The same."  He flung himself into a chair near where she sat.

She studied him. "Is something the matter?" she asked.

He grimaced.  Ithilden was not one to admit to questioning his own actions, but he had found that acknowledging his doubts to Alfirin was always comforting and often helpful.  "I had an unpleasant scene with Eilian," he admitted and then went on to tell her about Thranduil's request and Eilian's reaction to his appointment to the Home Guard.  "I am still not sure I did the right thing," he finished. "I would not have allowed the parent of any other warrior to direct my actions like that."

She looked thoughtful.  "If another warrior's father came to you and said he had had a prophetic dream, I think that you might have done the same thing," she said, and then added, with a smile, "and Eilian's parent is the king to whom you answer."

He smiled back at her.  "I know," he said ruefully.  He leaned back in his chair.  "I hate being at odds with Eilian," he said, "moreover I worry that keeping him here was selfish on my part, for I do think that if he ever manages to forgive me, his advice would be of assistance to me.  He is very shrewd."

She rose and came to him.  He rose to meet her and she put her arms around him. "Come, Ithilden, you did your best.  There is no point in worrying about it. After a time, Adar will be reassured, and you can send Eilian back to his patrol."  She reached up and kissed him.

He looked at her quizzically.  "Are you trying to seduce me, lady wife?" he asked.

She laughed.  "I wish that I could, but we must dress for tonight's feasting.  There should be at least one more night of shooting stars, I think."

With only a minimum of distracting activity, they managed to dress formally and then join Thranduil where he waited in the family's sitting room.

"Have you spoken to Eilian?" Thranduil asked.

Ithilden nodded.  "He is to report for duty with the Home Guard tomorrow. I should tell you, Adar, that he asked me if you were responsible for the posting. I did not say that you were, but he guessed it, and he was angry."

Thranduil was undisturbed.  "He has been angry with me before," he said.  "I would rather have him angry than dead."  His bluntness stopped all conversation for a moment, and then Legolas entered, adjusting his circlet as he came.

"You look very dignified, Legolas," Thranduil approved.

Legolas brightened.  Perhaps his father was in a generous mood.  "Adar, may I – " he began.

"No, you may not," Thranduil interrupted him.  "You failed to come back when you were told to last night.  Tonight, you will stay where you belong."  Legolas's face flushed, but he did not attempt to argue.  Thranduil's tone made it clear that he was serious and that protests would not be taken well.

At the last minute, Eilian strode into the room.  He was dressed appropriately, but he did not greet them or smile.  He stood in silence near the door, regarding Ithilden and Thranduil disdainfully.

Legolas felt distinctly worried.  First, Eilian had been frighteningly wild at the practice fields, and now he was plainly at odds with both his father and Ithilden.  Where was his light-hearted, playful brother?

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. "I will not put up with sulkiness, Eilian.  What is done is done.  Accept it and behave with dignity."

Eilian's eyes flashed.  "You have left me very little dignity, Adar.  I am to be coddled at home like an elfling."

This was the first that Legolas had heard of Eilian remaining at home.  He did not know what to make of this surprising turn of events, but it was plain that Eilian was unhappy.

"You are to serve the Realm in the way I think best," Thranduil said sharply and led his family out the door and toward the green where the Elves of Mirkwood waited.

Legolas sat through the feast as patiently as he could.  He was worried about Eilian but could get no answer from him when he asked what the matter was.  He saw Annael and their friend Tonduil laughing together as they swung up into a tree to watch the star shower and wished intensely that he could join them.  And then, as Elves began to spread across the green to watch the shooting stars, he saw something in the crowd that dismayed him.  Miriwen's family settled on a rug near the center of the green.  They all lay back, the better to see the stars, and next to Miriwen lay Falad.  Legolas saw very little of the stars that evening, for his eyes kept coming back to where Falad was pointing bright star trails out to Miriwen and speaking into her ear.  He did not touch her, but Legolas nonetheless burned with jealousy and with frustration that Thranduil kept him at his side as part of the pageantry of royalty.

As the star shower began to slow and fade for another night, one of Ithilden's aides approached and handed him a message.  He read it and then handed it to Thranduil, his face grim.  "Deler has died," he said soberly.  "I must go to see his family." 

"Go," said Thranduil, glancing at the note.

Ithilden rose wearily, stripped off his formal robe and circlet and handed them to an attendant.  He bent and kissed Alfirin's cheek.  "Do not wait up for me," he told her. "I may be very late."   Then he disappeared into the night.

On the other side of Thranduil, Eilian had heard Ithilden's announcement of the message's contents.  In the back of his mind, he heard a sound like the closing of a cage door.

That night, duty weighed heavily on all of Thranduil's sons.

5.  "Us"  

(September)

"You see, Captain?" said Siondel.  "It looks as if a Man camped here for more than a day."

Eilian crouched frowning over the marks on the cave floor.  His lieutenant was right. The cave did show signs of having sheltered a Man perhaps as recently as two weeks ago.  "It looks as if he was alone, though," Eilian observed, straightening up.

"Yes," Siondel agreed.  "And there is no indication of who he was or what he was doing here.  He could have been one of the Lake Men who ventured farther than he should have while hunting; he could have been a spy for the enemy.  We just do not know."  He waited patiently for Eilian to comment.

Eilian considered.  For the last three weeks, members of the Home Guard had been searching the scores of small caves along the Forest River, trying to find signs of the stranger whom Deler had been seeking when he died.   This morning, Siondel and a small patrol had finally located the evidence they were now showing to Eilian.  "I suppose any indication of where this stranger went was long ago washed away by the rain," Eilian finally said irritably.  The search for the stranger had been the most exciting thing happening since he took charge of the Home Guard, and even it was poor fare.  The chances were overwhelming that the stranger was simply a lost hunter.

"Yes," agreed Siondel.  "Any sign of him is long gone."

"How did he get by the Border Patrol and Home Guard patrols in the first place?" Eilian wondered with a frown.  "That is the real question."

"One of my warriors did catch a glimpse of him," Siondel said stiffly. "That is how we knew he was here."

Eilian silently noted that Siondel referred to the Home Guard as "my warriors" rather than "our warriors," and understood the message being sent him about his own status as an outsider.  He suspected that Siondel resented his presence; Eilian certainly would have been resentful if their places had been reversed.  If not for Eilian, Siondel would probably be captaining the Home Guard right now rather than educating Eilian about how it operated.  That had to rankle.

Moreover, while he and Siondel had long known one another, their very different temperaments meant that they had never been friends.  The two of them had been novices together and had joined the Home Guard at the same time, but Eilian had left within six months for the Southern Patrol, while Siondel had stayed and learned everything there was to know about guarding the areas close to Thranduil's stronghold.  In recent years, Eilian's only knowledge about Siondel had come through hearing occasional remarks about him from his son, Annael, who was Legolas's best friend.

At the moment, Siondel probably took Eilian's question as a criticism of his and Deler's direction of the Home Guard, Eilian thought.  And he was right; it was a criticism.  No Man should have been able to slip through the Woodland Realm with the Elven warriors who defended it catching only a "glimpse" of him.  The passivity of the Home Guard made Eilian nervous.  In a practice that was the opposite of what he preferred, they waited until danger came to them, often relying on the Border Patrol to tell them of its approach.  The Border Patrol had miles of space to patrol, and a lone spy would be hard for them to detect.  He did not like relying on them even though he believed they did their job well.  At the moment, however, Eilian was at a loss to see how the Home Guard could work differently than it currently did.

"I think that you should finish searching these caves," Eilian finally decided.  "He may have stayed elsewhere too or left something behind that would help identify him."

"Of course," Siondel said.  "I had intended to finish the search."  Eilian nodded, and the two of them started walking toward where the two other Elves from Siondel's patrol were waiting with the horses.

Eilian looked off along the length of the Forest River that was visible unrolling like a wide path through the trees.  "How often do patrols check these caves?" he asked.

"We ride by them daily," Siondel responded, "but we search them only when there is reason to do so.  You can see that there are too many to search on a regular basis. And the ground is often unstable, so many of them are dangerous."  He was obviously remembering Deler.

"I wonder if it would be possible to put something in front of the cave mouths that would show if they have been entered," Eilian mused.  "Then the daily patrols would see when a cave needed to be checked further. We sometimes mark forest paths that way in the Southern Patrol."

Siondel considered. "It might be possible," he said, sounding intrigued.  "We could arrange patterns of pebbles or maybe dead branches.  Setting it up would take time, but once we did, we would have an efficient way to keep track of whether anyone was using the caves.  Doubtless, we would find animals for the most part, but it would still be worth doing.  Shall I see to it, Captain?" he asked. He looked pleased at the idea, Eilian noted and not for the first time approved of the professionalism that enabled Siondel to do things such as accept ideas even from someone he might see as an interloper. 

"Please do," Eilian responded.  He nodded at the other two warriors and mounted his horse.  "You did good work in finding this," he told them and then, with a parting salute, he started back to the palace.

In truth, he was not at all surprised that one of the Home Guard patrols had finally found the right cave.  In the month he had been captaining it, he had both marveled at and come to appreciate the patience and thoroughness with which members of the Home Guard completed their vital but often tedious tasks. These were not virtues that Eilian thought of himself as possessing, and they were not the primary qualities he had sought in warriors who rode with him in the south, but he could see their usefulness here.  That did not mean, of course, that he enjoyed the kind of action, or rather lack of action, that this unit saw.

He wondered again for the thousandth time why Thranduil had decided not to allow him to return to the Southern Patrol and why Ithilden had agreed to his decision. His father worried about his safety, of course, but he had always done that.  What had changed that his father could no longer let Eilian's contribution in the south outweigh the risk he ran?  And why had Ithilden agreed to what had to look like special treatment for Eilian?  Ithilden was respectful to Thranduil, but he had always made it clear that, as commander of the Woodland Realm's warriors, he would make his own decisions.

Eilian could only conclude that perhaps Ithilden had been telling the truth when he said that he needed help.  Unlikely as it seemed, even the indomitable Ithilden apparently had his limits.  So Eilian had tamped down his initial fury and decided not to argue for release from the Home Guard until after the baby was born.  He would do what he could to get past his resentment and ease Ithilden's burden now and hope to be rewarded in the spring.  He urged his horse into a gallop, reveling in the breakneck pace and allowing the wind that whirled past him to blow away some of his tension.

***

Legolas ambled happily along on his way home from the training fields, glorying in the crisp weather and the autumn colors that were beginning to blossom in the trees around him.  The day had gone well and, best of all, the next day was a free day for the youngest novices.  Free days were rare and highly treasured, and he and Annael were planning to spend the day in the forest, fishing and idling their time away.

“Legolas!” called a familiar voice behind him, and he turned to see Ithilden catching up with him.  Evidently his brother too was on his way home.  Ithilden smiled at him as he drew near.  “You seem in no hurry,” he said. “Do I recall correctly that you have a free day tomorrow?”

Legolas gave a broad grin.  “Yes, you do,” he said contentedly.  “Annael and I are going fishing.  And what about you?  You are going home early, for you.”  Ithilden usually reached home only shortly before he was due at evening meal.

“Alfirin’s family is coming tonight, remember?” Ithilden said.  “I want them to see what a dutiful son-in-law I am.”

“That is right,” Legolas said in a pleased tone. “I had forgotten that they were sharing evening meal with us tonight.  It will be good to see Tonduil again.” Tonduil was Alfirin’s younger brother. He was close to Legolas in age and, for a time, had been a novice warrior, but he had decided that his true calling lay in being a horse master and had begun his apprenticeship in that trade.  Legolas had not seen him for some time.

They walked along together with Legolas studying Ithilden out of the corner of his eye. There was something he had been wanting to ask Ithilden, and he thought that this might be a good opportunity to do so, if his brother was in the right mood.  Ithilden looked tired, but he always did these days. Thranduil said that the weariness was normal, but also that none of them should burden Ithilden with any unnecessary demands.  Legolas decided to approach indirectly.

“It is nice to have Eilian still at home,” he observed tentatively.  Ithilden merely grunted in reply.  And indeed, Legolas's observation was not altogether true, for, in fact, Eilian had been bad-tempered on enough occasions in the past few weeks that his company was not always a pleasure.  Legolas decided to risk commenting on this. "He does not seem happy about still being here though," he added.

"I did not appoint him to the Home Guard because I thought it would make him happy," Ithilden said with a snort.

"Would you tell me why you did?" Legolas asked.

"That is none of your business, Legolas," said Ithilden rather sharply.

"I beg your pardon," Legolas apologized.  "I was not questioning your decision."  He groped for a way to say what he meant without offending Ithilden. "I am sure it was the right decision," he said hurriedly.  "I am just trying to understand it."  He looked at Ithilden anxiously.  His father and brothers had all been extraordinarily touchy lately.

Ithilden paused and looked at him.  A rueful expression crossed his face.  Then he put one hand on Legolas's shoulder as they resumed walking.  "I am sorry," he said.  "I should not have snapped at you."  He hesitated.  "I need Eilian's help here at home, Legolas," he said. "And it is not a bad thing for him to do something different.  He has things to offer the Home Guard and things he can learn from captaining it."  He gave his little brother an assessing look.  "You are old enough to understand that warriors serve where they are needed," he said.  "Eilian does that now, and it is what you will do too."

Legolas turned this idea over in his head and found that he was drawn to the ideal of service that Ithilden was describing. He nodded.  "I can do that," he said, with youthful optimism, and Ithilden smiled to himself. They continued home together in companionable silence.

***

Legolas entered the family's sitting room to find that only Ithilden had beaten him there.  "Where is Alfirin?" he asked.  "Is she ill?"

"No," Ithilden reassured him. "She has gone to the Great Doors to wait for her family.  She does not like having them shown in by guards." He seemed amused by his wife's dislike of a practice that Thranduil's family usually took for granted.

Legolas smiled, but he understood Alfirin's consideration for her family's discomfort.  He nearly always tried to greet Annael at the palace doors too, and Annael had been coming to the palace since he was an elfling.  A moment later, their father entered the room.  "Good evening, Adar," they chorused and he nodded to them.

"Ithilden," Thranduil said, "I have just received word that a delegation from Esgaroth will be arriving in the morning to talk about their wish to trade for timber.  The master and his son are coming personally, and I wish to demonstrate respect for them by having my son present when they arrive, so I need you or Eilian to be there to receive them."

Legolas saw Ithilden flinch minutely.  "Do not ask Eilian," he said.  "He is still adjusting to his new command. I can do it, but I have a great deal to do in the morning, so I would appreciate it if I did not have to stay for too long."

"Thank you, iôn-nín," Thranduil said.  "You need stay for only a short time."  Ithilden nodded in resignation.

Legolas heard the words coming out of his own mouth before he knew he was going to say them.  "Would I do, Adar?" he asked.

They turned to look at him with raised eyebrows.

Legolas continued, "I have a free day tomorrow, and if you just need someone for ceremonial effect, maybe I could do it."

Ithilden began to speak but Thranduil raised a hand to silence him.  He looked at Legolas gravely.  "Do you not have plans for your day?" he said.

"I was going to spend it with Annael in the woods," Legolas answered, "but I can still do that after we are finished with the Esgaroth people."

Thranduil nodded.  "I accept your very generous offer, Legolas.  You will more than 'do.'"  His grave expression dissolved into a smile, and Legolas saw a similar smile on Ithilden's face.  He had been feeling a momentary twinge of regret for the lost free time, but it was quickly obliterated by the approval he read in the two faces in front of him.

The door opened, and Eilian entered the room.  Everyone in the room immediately tensed.  Eilian's mood had been unpredictable of late, and none of them wanted to start a quarrel with company coming.  "Good evening," he greeted them pleasantly enough, and everyone relaxed.

"I hear that you found the cave where the stranger was sheltering," Ithilden said.

"Siondel and his patrol did," Eilian corrected. Legolas puzzled over the distinction for a moment.  He knew that Annael's father, whom he liked, was now Eilian's lieutenant, and he did not understand the distance that Eilian was implying existed between them.

"Is there any indication of who it was?" Thranduil asked with a frown.  He obviously did not like the idea of anyone, however well-intentioned, entering the Woodland Realm without his permission or even his knowledge. And of course, there was no evidence whether this stranger was well-intentioned or ill.  Until a few years ago, Easterlings known as Balchoth had lived in the area to the southeast of the Woodland Realm.  They had occasionally ventured into the forest, and their fealty to Sauron was well-known.  While the Rohirrim had defeated them and theoretically driven them back beyond the Sea of Rhûn, no one would be surprised if a few still lingered.  Moreover, evil creatures were on the move near Dol Guldur to the south.  Thranduil would be most unhappy if someone from either of these menacing groups had ventured too near his stronghold.

Eilian shook his head. "There is no indication," he said.  "The Home Guard will continue looking though. They are nothing if not thorough," he added somewhat dryly.  Thranduil frowned slightly at his tone, but anything he might have intended to say was interrupted by the arrival of Alfirin with her parents and younger brother.

Alfirin's mother, a healer, and her father, a forester, were both gentle people and had raised equally gentle children.  They would probably not have chosen Thranduil's family of warriors to be their daughter's in-laws, but Ithilden and Alfirin's love for one another was obvious and her parents were as thrilled about the baby as Thranduil was.  Thus by and large, the two families got along well.

"My lord," they all greeted Thranduil with deference, but he eased them into a more informal tone, and they sat to have wine before the evening meal.  Legolas and Tonduil relaxed together on a bench to one side of the room.

"How are things at the novice fields?" asked Tonduil.  "I miss my friends there sometimes," he said.  "But I definitely do not miss Maldor."

Legolas laughed.  "He is still the same," he said.  "But I am happy to say that we have a free day tomorrow."

"I do too!" exclaimed Tonduil.

"Why do you not join Annael and me in the woods?" Legolas invited.  "I will be a little late, but Annael will be there at first light."

"I will if you will have me," Tonduil promised, and they agreed to the meeting.

Thranduil was now pouring the wine that a servant had just brought.  "I had intended to serve you some of the Dorwinian we received in the spring," he was saying, "but my butler tells me that we had less of it than he had thought, and the barrel was empty.   I hope we can obtain more so that you can try it next time. It was quite extraordinary."

Legolas and Tonduil had both stiffened at the mention of the Dorwinian, for they both knew exactly where the missing wine had gone: down the less than exacting gullets of some of their fellow novices, and, of course, their own.  Thranduil gestured for Legolas to come and get their cups.  Legolas kept his face averted as he did so, for Thranduil sometimes exhibited an alarming ability to read any guilt that might be there.  He returned to the bench and raised his eyes to find Eilian watching him quizzically.  Actually, now that Legolas thought of it, every member of his family seemed to be able to tell when he felt guilty.  He frowned and took a deep drink of the wine.  It was good, but not as good as the Dorwinian had been.

"Eilian," Alfirin's father drew his brother's attention away, "you must be glad to be home still and away from the danger in the south."

For a moment, Thranduil's family froze.  Then Alfirin spoke, her voice as mild as always.  "Surely no one welcomes danger, Adar," she said, "but I, for one, am thankful that warriors like Eilian willingly subject themselves to it so that we can live in safety."  She smiled sweetly.

Legolas was grateful for her comment.  He knew from things she had said that Alfirin did not always find it easy to accept the fact that warriors, including her husband, were trained to kill not just wolves and spiders, but people.  That she should defend Eilian's willingness for battle against the even mild doubt that her father had expressed struck him as an extraordinary sign of her affection for his brother.  He saw Ithilden blink and then reach for her hand.

Legolas glanced over at Eilian, who had withdrawn into the shadows away from the fireplace.  Alfirin had relieved him of the need to answer her father's claim that he must be glad to be home, but judging by the look on his face, she had certainly not stopped him thinking about it.

***

Legolas strolled along through the woods, listening to the autumn leaves rustle against one another in gently murmured song.  The greeting of the Esgaroth delegation had gone well, and his father had sent him on his way with words of praise that still lingered pleasantly in his ears. Now he was on his way to meet Annael and Tonduil.

As Legolas had grown older, he had gradually become aware that he was more isolated than other Elves his age were.  This was partly a matter of living in the palace with guards in front of his doors.  Other elflings had not been able to wander into the palace nursery as they did into one another's cottages, and even now, Elves his age hesitated to visit him.  But he had come to realize that the isolation was also partly due to his role as Thranduil's son.  Other Elves were cautious around him, fearing to offend, and he was cautious around outsiders, fearing that he might inadvertently do something that would embarrass his father.  Now he found himself completely at ease only with his family, which had come to include Tonduil; with Annael, whom he had known since before either of them could remember; and with Miriwen, whom he found soothingly easy to talk to.  He would see Miriwen tonight, and he happily drew in sight of Annael and Tonduil now.

The two of them were lounging on a bank of a small stream in which Legolas and Annael had frequently fished.  They had poles in the water but were not paying much attention to them, as the lay in the grass and chatted.  "Have you caught anything?" Legolas asked, joining them. "Or have you been too lazy even to do that?"

"Lazy!" Annael protested.  "Look at this."  He scrambled to the edge of the stream and pulled a string of several fish out of the cold water. "We were waiting for you to gut them," he added, teasingly, "since you have done none of the work of catching them."

Legolas laughed and settled down beside them, dropping his own line into the water. "I have been wanting to hear about your trip, Tonduil," he said. "I hope you have not already told Annael all about it."  Tonduil had been gone much of the last month on a horse buying trip to Rhovanion.

"No, I have not," Tonduil answered and launched into an account of the trip.  Legolas and Annael both listened with interest and Legolas found himself wondering if he could convince Thranduil that a similar trip was an essential part of his education as the king's son. Probably not, he regretfully concluded and wondered if he would ever be able to travel to the exotic reaches of Middle Earth that he had only heard about so far.

"Are you going to visit Miriwen tonight?" Annael asked him, drawing his mind back to more immediate concerns.

"Yes, I am," he said.  He made a face. "Her family has been sitting outside in the evenings lately, and Falad nearly always joins us.  I told you that he lives next door."

"I still cannot believe that he told Eilian where you were that night of the star showers," said Annael in disgust.

Tonduil looked interested.  "I know Falad," he said.  Legolas recalled that Tonduil's family's cottage was near Miriwen's and Falad's.  "What did he tell Eilian?"

Legolas and Annael looked at one another.  Finally, Annael answered, "Eilian was looking for Legolas, and Legolas did not want to be found.  Falad told him where Legolas was."

Tonduil looked startled.  "Did he?  He has always been very serious, rather boring in fact, but I am surprised that he would do that.  That was not very nice of him."

"What was not very nice of whom?" asked a familiar and not particularly welcome voice.  The three of them turned to see Galelas approaching with Isendir in tow.

"Falad told Eilian where Legolas was when Legolas did not want him to," answered Tonduil, oblivious to the sudden silence into which both Legolas and Annael had retreated.

"Falad who is training to be a healer?" asked Galelas.  "What a little snitch!"  Legolas blinked at the unexpected support.  "Who does he think he is telling tales on a warrior?" Galelas went on indignantly.

Legolas found that he could not suppress a smile. "Thank you for your concern," he said dryly.

Galelas abruptly seemed to recall just whose cause he was supporting.  He snorted.  "If you do not care, I am sure I do not," he said. "Come on, Isendir." And the two of them walked off further into the forest.

The other three looked at one another and burst out laughing.  "Galelas is completely unpredictable sometimes," said Annael.

"And too completely predictable at others," added Legolas.  They began gathering wood to build a fire so they could cook the fish for their mid-day meal.  Legolas supposed he really would have to be the one to gut and clean them.  At the moment, neither Annael nor Tonduil appeared to be unduly impressed by his being Thranduil's son.

***

Legolas sat with Miriwen on the bench outside her family's cottage.  Her mother had gone inside to put the baby to bed, and her father was in the family's small sitting room reading a long-desired and newly acquired book. Legolas reveled in the rare private time with Miriwen.

"Are you still worried about Eilian?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said, "he is still so angry about not being allowed to return to the Southern Patrol.  Ithilden says he can learn something by working with the Home Guard, but I only hope that Eilian comes to the same conclusion soon.  He is very unhappy and is driving the rest of us to distraction."  Miriwen was the only person Legolas could talk to openly about his concern for Eilian, given that Thranduil and Ithilden avoided the subject and Annael, his usual confidante, was off limits because his father was now under Eilian's command.

She placed a reassuring hand on his arm.  "Eilian is both sensible and clever," said Miriwen.  "He will calm down soon."  She glanced up.  "Here comes Falad," she said cheerfully.  Legolas grimaced.

"Good evening," said Falad rather stiffly.

"Good evening," said Miriwen.  "Sit down."  She scooted over and made room for him on the bench, an action Legolas only forgave because it brought her close up against him.

His temper was not improved when Miriwen and Falad immediately began to talk about a lesson they had been learning about the arrangement of bones in the hand.  He allowed both his mind and his gaze to wander.  Suddenly, he sat up a little straighter.  Was that Lómilad approaching?

The novice master came directly to the bench upon which they were sitting, and they all greeted him with somewhat confused politeness.

"I am happy to talk to you about your decision, Falad," Lómilad unexpectedly said.  "Shall we go to your cottage so that your parents can join us?"

Falad looked at him with his mouth agape. He reminded Legolas of the fish that he and his friends had caught earlier in the day.  "Decision?" he asked weakly. "I am sorry, but I do not understand. What decision do you mean?"

Lómilad frowned.  "Your decision to enter warrior training," he said. "The decision that your father wrote to me about earlier today.  He asked me to come and discuss it." Legolas suppressed a snort of surprised laughter.  Miriwen glared at him.

Falad gasped.  "Surely he did not," he said.  "I have made no such decision.  I am in training to become a healer." 

Lómilad paused.  He had been a novice master for a long time and had had much experience with young warriors whose judgment sometimes left a great deal to be desired.  Now he sent a hard look at Legolas, who suddenly found that there was nothing funny about the situation.

"I beg your pardon, Falad," Lómilad said. "It seems that we have both been the victims of someone's misguided sense of humor."  Legolas flinched at the novice master's tone.  No, there was nothing funny here at all.  Lómilad turned to him. "Legolas," he said, "please see me first thing in the morning.  I want to speak to you."  Legolas could do nothing but nod before Lómilad turned and walked away.

Falad's face was flushed.  He did not look at Legolas but rose and spoke to Miriwen.  "I think I will go home, Miri," he said.  "I will come by for you in the morning." He walked off toward his own cottage, entered it, and shut the door firmly behind him.

Miriwen waited only until the door closed before she rounded on Legolas.  "How could you do something so mean?" she asked indignantly.

"But I did not do it," he protested.  "I was as surprised as he was. Do you think I would let the novice master find me here if I had done this?  Believe me, Miri, the talk that Lómilad wants to have with me in the morning is not going to be pleasant."

She hesitated.  "Perhaps," she said, "but you laughed!"  She was righteous in her attack on his behavior.

"I am sorry," he said contritely. "I should not have laughed. Falad really did look rattled. But I was so startled at the idea of him becoming a warrior."

"He does not want to be a warrior," she said emphatically. "He wants to be a healer."

"And I am sure he will be a fine one," Legolas soothed her. She narrowed her eyes at him, evidently suspecting that he was humoring her.  He threw up his hands helplessly, and suddenly, she smiled.

"I am sorry I suspected you," she said. "I should have known you would not do anything that foolish."

And Legolas was deeply grateful that he had not.  Leaving aside the question of Falad's feelings with which Miriwen was so concerned, he was appalled to think of what his father or brothers would have said if he had treated Lómilad so disrespectfully.   No one in his family of officers was likely to be amused at the idea of him playing a practical joke on the novice master. And Lómilad had not looked amused at all.

***

"Are you certain that you were not involved in the so-called joke?" Lómilad asked, eying Legolas closely.

Legolas looked straight at him.  "I had nothing to do with it," he said firmly, "nor do I know who did send you the false letter. My presence there was pure coincidence."

After only a brief pause, the novice master nodded, evidently satisfied.  "Very well," he said. "I believe you.  And I am glad to do so.  I would hate to think that you could exhibit such bad judgment, Legolas. You may go," he added. 

Legolas did not need to be told twice. He left Lómilad's office as speedily as he could and started toward the practice fields where the novices assembled in the mornings.  As he started along the path, Galelas emerged from beneath a tree where he had evidently been waiting for Legolas.

"So what happened last night?" he asked gleefully.

Legolas blinked and suddenly saw the light. "You sent the note to Lómilad," he said flatly.

"Yes, I did," Galelas agreed.  "That will teach that little sneak to treat any of us shabbily."

Legolas was so startled at being included in an "us" with Galelas that he did not have the presence of mind to tell his fellow novice how stupidly he had behaved.  He supposed he should be grateful for the loyalty, no matter how unexpected the place was he found it.

6.  The Novices' Trip

(October)

Legolas leaned against the trunk of the tree in which he sat, inhaling the scent of its drying leaves and singing along under his breath with its sleepy autumn song.   He hoped that Miriwen would be along soon because, if she were not, he would be late for evening meal and Thranduil was unlikely to accept waiting for Miri as a good excuse.  The healers who were training her kept her very late sometimes, if someone with an interesting injury appeared in the infirmary at the last minute.

Finally he heard her talking to someone as she approached along the path, and he dropped to the ground to greet her.  She was walking with Falad which, given that they trained together, was not surprising, but which irritated Legolas nonetheless.  He and Falad nodded brusque greetings to one another and then Legolas turned pointedly to Miriwen.  "May I talk to you, Miriwen?" he asked, trying to signal to Falad that he was unwelcome.

"Of course," she said.  "I will see you tomorrow, Falad."  Legolas enjoyed Falad's obvious unhappiness at the dismissal, but he was less pleased by the smile that Miriwen gave him.  He supposed it was unreasonable to expect her to scowl at this Elf whom she had known since babyhood, but he would have liked it nonetheless.  A dejected Falad strode off toward home, while he and Miri lingered at the point in the path where their ways home would diverge.  He drew her aside under the sheltering boughs of a weeping willow.

"I wanted to tell you that I will not be able to go to the autumn dancing with you tomorrow evening," Legolas said with real regret.

"Why not?" she asked, obviously equally disappointed.  "Surely your adar does not need you for the whole evening."

"No, it is not Adar," he answered.  "You remember that I told you that all the novices were going on a week-long field exercise together.  I just found out today that I am in the defensive group which leaves a day early.  We are going in the morning."

"That is too bad!" she exclaimed, her face crinkling unhappily.

"I know," he said.  "I am sorry, but these exercises are very important. We do them only twice a year, and the older novices say that they are one of the most enjoyable parts of the training."

She made a visible effort to control her disappointment.  "Of course," she said, "I know you need to do this, and I hope they go well."  She patted his arm.  "And I hope you do enjoy them.  It is just that I will miss you."  He could see from the look on her face that she still regretted his going, which he found simultaneously satisfying and painful.  "I must be on my way home," she finally said.  "Naneth will be waiting evening meal for me." 

"I will think of you while I am gone," he told her.  He gave her a quick kiss, and then they parted and went on their separate ways.

Legolas had gone only a short distance before Eilian slid up next to him.  "Do you ever kiss her when I am not around?" he asked with an offensive grin.

"Do you ever get tired of spying on us?" Legolas shot back with a scowl.

Eilian laughed but then advised with some seriousness, "If you do not want to be watched, do not kiss her by a public path, even if you are making up after a quarrel."

Legolas frowned.  "What do you mean? We did not quarrel."

Eilian shrugged.  "I thought you both looked upset," he said, "so naturally I assumed that you had misbehaved and were making it up with her."  He raised his eyebrows at his little brother.  "Perhaps I misunderstood?"

Legolas knew that Eilian was inviting him to confide, and he was tempted to do so.  Eilian spent time with many maidens and never seemed to be as confused about them as Legolas often was over just Miriwen.  "She is unhappy that I am going to miss the autumn dances because I am going on the novice exercises," he finally said.

Eilian nodded.  "Hard as it is to fathom," he said, "she likes you and wishes for your presence."  He seemed to be on the verge of saying more, but instead he caught a twig up off the ground and began to peel the bark away as they walked along.

"You are dying to give me advice," Legolas said resignedly. "Why do you not just do it?"

Eilian laughed.  "Very well," he said and tossed the twig away.  "Would you rather go on the novice exercises or stay home with Miriwen?"

"Go on the exercises, of course," Legolas immediately answered.  "They are very important. I cannot stay home even though I do like being with Miriwen."

"Suppose that your going on the exercises meant that she went to the autumn dancing tomorrow night with someone else?" Eilian pursued.  "Would you wish to stay home then?"

Legolas hesitated. "No," he said slowly.  "It would pain me, but I still would not stay home."

Eilian nodded.  "That is what I thought," he said.  "You are making a choice, Legolas, and all choices have consequences."

"But it is not really a choice," Legolas protested.  "I am a warrior, like you and Ithilden.  That is how Adar expects us to serve the Realm."

Eilian immediately stopped walking and turned Legolas to face him with both his hands on his little brother's shoulders.  "Is that not what you want?" he asked, obviously concerned.  "I had assumed that it was, but if you do not want to be a warrior, I will support you in trying to convince Adar that you should be allowed to do something different, and I think Ithilden would as well."

"No," Legolas protested.  "I have always wanted to be a warrior.  It is the only thing I have ever wanted to be.  I just had not thought about having to leave someone I cared about behind."

"I know," Eilian said comfortingly, "but when we make some choices, we always close off others.  Then all we can decide is how to act within the choices we have made."  He sounded grim and Legolas glanced at him curiously.

"Are you making choices?" he asked.

"I believe I am at the 'deciding how to act' stage," Eilian responded with an effort at his customary light manner.  He smiled at Legolas. "We had better hurry, though, if we do not want Adar to lecture us both about 'how to act' punctually."  And they resumed their walk homeward at a quickened pace.

***

The following morning, nine novices gathered at the training grounds to hold a strategy meeting before being joined by the two masters who would accompany them on this first day of the autumn exercises.   The buzz of excitement animating the little group died when Tynd, the senior novice in command, stood up and called them to order.

"Most of you know what our task it," he said, "but for Legolas's and Annael's sake, we will go over it again now.  The rest of us can use the reminder anyway." He looked around at the other novices, making sure he had their complete attention. Legolas watched him admiringly.  Tynd would join Ithilden's warriors in the spring and, to Legolas's eyes, he was clearly ready.

"We are the defenders," Tynd began.  "Our task today is to select and fortify a site that we will hold against the attackers, who will be setting out tomorrow.  Riolith, Nálas, and I have already picked out a site, one that we are familiar with from previous trips."  Riolith was only a year younger than Tynd and was acting as his lieutenant in this exercise.  Nálas was a year younger yet, but Legolas knew that when Eilian had been teaching them strategy, he had thought that Nálas showed real potential as a tactician.   They were fortunate that Nálas had landed in their group.

"Our basic objective," Tynd went on, "is to hold the position for four days or to 'kill' two-thirds of the attackers.  In the meantime, their objective is to overrun our position.  We will go over basic defensive moves tonight, after we have our area secured. The one thing we should remember today is to leave as slight a trail as possible. The longer it takes them to find us, the shorter the time we have to do battle with them.  Leaving no trail may be harder than usual, given all the gear we will be carrying."  He looked at Legolas and Annael.  "Any questions?" he asked.   They shook their heads.  "Good," he said and glanced toward the masters' hut from which Penntalion and Thelion were just emerging.

Legolas liked both Penntalion and Thelion and was glad that they had been assigned to the defensive group, while Maldor and Lómilad (and, just as satisfyingly, Galelas) would be coming with the attackers. Tynd gave the two masters a graceful salute as they approached the group, and the other novices came to their feet.

"Are you ready?" asked Penntalion.

"Yes," grinned Tynd, excitement suddenly making him look younger.

"Then, go ahead," Penntalion said, with an answering grin.

"Get your gear and let us go," Tynd told his group.  Legolas gathered his bow and his pack, from which hung the leather armor and metal helmet he would wear during the exercise. The whole affair was bulky and awkward, but none of them wanted to wear the armor, much less the helmet, any sooner than they had to.  "Riolith, you act as rear guard," Tynd ordered.  The rest of them and the two masters fell into line behind Tynd who led them southeast, and, with the silence with which only Elves can move, they all disappeared into the forest.

They hiked through the woods for most of the day, stopping only to rest occasionally and eat an abbreviated mid-day meal.  At Tynd's orders, they occasionally took to the trees, hoping to leave a more difficult trail for their opponents to follow, but their bulky gear made it harder to move through the treetops for any sustained period of time. Late in the afternoon, however, Tynd called a halt and waved Riolith and Nálas toward him. They conferred briefly and then Tynd struck out in a slightly different direction. Before long, they had reached what was evidently the site that the three leaders had chosen for them to defend.

The area was a small rise along the edge of the forest river.  The river would protect their back and provide them with water, while the elevation on which they stood would extend both their sight and the distance their arrows would travel, even with blunted tips that had been wrapped in bulky rags.  There were no trees close by, which made it a far less pleasant camp site but also meant that the Elves attacking them would have to advance on the ground and not through branches.  And finally, around the spot were scattered large rocks that would provide them with shelter from incoming arrows.  Even to Legolas's relatively inexperienced eye, the site looked eminently defensible.

"Nice choice, Tynd," Penntalion approved.  Tynd was trying to look serious, but Legolas saw the smile that escaped at the archery master's words.

Legolas worked with the others to help set up camp. They would have a fire tonight, but Tynd admonished them to enjoy it while they could because once the attackers began to search for them, they would not be able to risk smoke giving them away. When they had finished eating and clearing up afterwards, Tynd again called them to order.

"I want to remind you of basic defensive tactics," he said. "First rule: Keep a wide focus so that you can dodge incoming arrows.  Second rule: Keep moving so that they cannot hone in on you.  We can use these rocks for cover, but when you duck behind them, remember to come up in a different spot than you were in before.  We are going to try to take out Calorfil, their commander, first and hope that leaves them in confusion.  After that, we can aim at their best archers.  Who would that be, Riolith?"

Riolith considered.  "Amóng, I think," he said, "and Fómbor."

Tynd nodded.  "I will be using a streamer arrow to show you where I want you to target," he said, "once I manage to locate those three.  Other than that, aim for targets of opportunity, mainly those whose attention is elsewhere so that they cannot dodge your arrow." He paused and then turned to Nálas.  "Is there anything I have missed?" he asked.

Nálas shook his head, "Only that we should protect you," he said, "because we do not want to be the ones left in confusion."

Tynd looked a little self-conscious but nodded. Then he turned to Penntalion and Thelion, who had been quietly watching.  "Do you have things you want to say?" he asked.

The novices all turned to look at the two masters. This was the first time that Tynd had consulted them since the group had left the training fields.  Legolas had never before been on a training trip in which the masters watched silently from one side while a novice gave orders.  He had found it a little disconcerting at first, but he had faith in the competence of Tynd, Rioleth, and Nálas and, as they had made the trip today, he had realized that the fact that the novices had to act on their own made him feel more responsible too.  No one was going to step in and save them from a foolish decision, so they all had to make sure that no foolish decisions were made.

Penntalion rose to his feet.  "We will, of course, set watches for tonight," he told them, "and you need to take them seriously.   The Home Guard patrols this whole area regularly, but, as you know, you should never take your safety in the woods for granted." They all nodded.  This was a warning they had all heard regularly from the time they were small.  "Once the exercise begins," Penntalion went on, "some of the masters will be keeping watch, and anyone 'killed' in the exercise will help. At that point, you do not need to set watches at night.  Thelion and I will camp with you tonight, but starting tomorrow, we will set up a separate campsite nearby for us and those novices who are out of the exercise.  The novices who are out will not only help keep watch but also cook for both sides.  Is that clear to everyone?"

They all nodded again.  "Good," said Penntalion.  "Let us set the watches and get some sleep then."

The next day passed slowly.  Penntalion and Thelion moved off to set up their own camp, although once they had finished, they took up an unobtrusive position nearby that allowed them to keep the novices in sight and occasionally made circuits of the area to check for any unexpected danger from spiders or even less desirable company. Legolas knew that the other group of novices could not possibly reach them before late afternoon, even if they managed to follow a trail straight to the camp.  But he was keyed up and was glad that he and the others could keep busy in the morning checking their equipment and making a further supply of blunted arrows with rag-wrapped tips. By the time the rudimentary mid-day meal was served, they were as ready as they were ever going to be to defend their site.  Legolas sat next to Annael, eating bits of lembas and drinking water.  He was not very hungry, although he knew that that was because he was excited about the coming mock battle. He listened as the older novices talked.

"I heard that Ithilden met with warriors from Esgaroth," Rioleth was saying.

Another novice named Sarar, whom Legolas barely knew, snorted in derision.  "I do not see why.  Surely these Men would only hinder our efforts.  I doubt if they are strong warriors."

Legolas glanced up in surprise.  He had heard Thranduil and Ithilden discussing the meeting with the Esgaroth fighters, and he knew that his father and brother both respected them as warriors, although the king was not particularly interested in any kind of personal relationship with Men.  "The Esgaroth Men are our allies," he said, speaking before he had thought about whether he wanted to challenge an older novice, "and they have shown themselves to be valiant warriors when they need to be."

Sarar snorted.  "I cannot believe that we would get anything out of an alliance with them," he said.  "The benefit would surely be all to them."

Legolas chose not to argue his point and the subject dropped, but he found himself thinking about the world beyond the Woodland Realm and hoping, as he often did, that he would some day be able to see some of it.

By late afternoon, Tynd had them all sitting out of sight behind rocks while he and Rioleth lay on their stomachs at the site's highest point, keeping watch.  Legolas could feel his tension rising as he crouched next to Nálas, who was twirling an arrow in his fingers.  On his other side, Annael looked relaxed, but Legolas could hear him periodically cracking his knuckles and knew that he was not.  By the time the early autumn darkness fell, however, there had been no sign of their attackers.  For the sake of safety, the rules of the exercise called for all action to cease at nightfall, so the novice masters rejoined them and they were all able to relax their vigilance a little and have their evening meal in relative comfort.  Legolas supposed he should be glad because the coming of night meant that they had technically held their position for a day, so they needed to do so for only three more to win the exercise, but he was edgy enough that he would have liked to see some action.

In the morning, Legolas assumed that they would renew their waiting game, but Tynd had other ideas.  "I want to send out scouts to see if they are coming," he said.  "Annael and Pember, you go."  He began to explain to them where he wanted them to search, and Legolas experienced a momentary twinge of jealousy that his friend had been chosen to be the scout, but he pushed the feeling firmly aside for he knew that Annael really was uncommonly good at woodcraft.

Legolas sat down to wait with the others for what seemed like an interminable length of time.  Then, all at once, both Annael and Pember were racing across the open area to the campsite.  "They are coming," Pember announced. "They are perhaps a half hour behind us."

"Good," Tynd said, with a huge breath of relief, and Legolas knew that he too had been feeling the tension of waiting.  "Everybody into your protective gear," Tynd ordered, and they began to don the leather armor and metal helmets with face guards.  They set their own swords aside and replaced them with training swords from the stockpile they had brought with them.  They filled their quivers with the specially made arrows and then took up their places behind the sheltering rocks.

As Pember had predicted, the other group of novices drew into sight within half an hour.  They halted out of arrow range and were clearly studying the rise upon which the defending group lay hidden.  Finally they ventured forward, moving in zigzags and keeping low to present smaller targets.  Tynd had told them all to hold their shots until he gave them leave to fire, and he waited until the oncoming group was well within arrow range before he called, "Now!"

Legolas rose from behind his rock, took aim, and fired at an oncoming novice, who saw the arrow coming and managed to leap aside. He reminded himself of Tynd's admonition to shoot at those whose attention was elsewhere and began to practice some of the tactics that he had been taught by the novice masters or heard his brothers talk about.  The attackers stayed at some distance, though, and kept moving so that his own little band of archers had trouble picking many of them off.

Suddenly, an arrow trailing a long ribbon flew from his camp toward the attackers and landed near an Elf whom Legolas realized must be Calorfil, the senior novice who was captaining the other side. As he had been taught, he nocked an arrow and waited for Tynd's command.  "Aim!" Tynd shouted, and they all rose as one with their arrows aimed at Calorfil. "Fire!"  Arrows flew through the air, thick enough that Calorfil, caught in the open area, had no chance to dodge or seek shelter.  Legolas's group cheered as it was obvious that they had taken out the other group's captain.  The attackers hastily withdrew to a band of trees that were beyond arrow range, evidently needing to reconsider their battle plans.  Calorfil, on the other hand, trotted off to one side where the masters' camp lay.  Legolas could only imagine how disappointed he must be.

The battle ranged on and off for the rest of the day, as the attackers tried to work their way around the defenders' flanks, but very few actual arrows were exchanged.  Then, as the light was fading, the attackers made one more foray toward them.  They worked their way toward the defenders' camp and then one of them rose and sent a streamer arrow toward Tynd.  He immediately dodged and sought shelter but for a breathtaking moment, it looked as if he was not going to be able to get out of the way of all of the arrows. Then, at the last possible second, Annael leapt and stopped the arrow that had been meant for their captain. Almost immediately, Lómilad, who had arrived in the area with the attackers, called a halt to the maneuvers because of the onset of darkness, and the defenders had held their position for another day.

Legolas gaped at Annael.  "You are 'dead'," he said in shock.

Annael shrugged.  "My adar says that is important to protect your captain. You know that."

Tynd approached, looking a little awkward.  "Thank you, Annael," he said. "I have never had anyone 'die' for me before."

Annael laughed.  "Now I get to cook, which will be a punishment for the rest of you," he said.

Legolas watched his friend gather his gear and depart for the masters' camp.  The thought crossed his mind fleetingly that he was glad that Annael's father served under Eilian.  He suspected from things he had heard at home that Eilian did not always protect himself as carefully as he should.

The next morning saw the attackers once again zigzagging across the approach to the defenders' campsite, using what scarce cover they could find.  Legolas waited, crouched behind the rock, for the attackers to get within his arrow range and when he judged that they had just done so, he rose and shot, but the novice he aimed at saw the arrow coming and dodged.  He ducked down again and nocked an arrow.  Suddenly, an arrow with a long ribbon tied to it landed on the ground near him.  He stared at it, unable to fathom what it was doing there.

"Move, Legolas," urged Tynd.  "Now!"

He hunched over and ran to the next rock just in time to avoid a shower of arrows that landed next to the streamer arrow.  He nocked an arrow, rose, fired, and ducked down again.  Trying to keep his wits about him and remember what he had been taught, he nocked and rose at the other edge of the rock.  He ducked and nocked again, but this time when he rose, he was struck by an arrow in the right shoulder as he was aiming to his left.  He immediately released his draw and dropped to the ground to wait until there was a break in the battle, and he could withdraw to the masters' camp with the other 'dead' novices.  He rubbed his shoulder; even padded, the arrow had hit with enough impact to bruise him through the leather armor.  He was disgusted with himself.  He must have somehow revealed his position because whoever had shot him had evidently known exactly where he was going to rise from behind the rock.

Legolas waited for what seemed like a long time before the attackers withdrew, probably to regroup. He got to his feet, gathered his belongings, and headed for the masters' camp, where he found Annael waiting for him with a huge grin.  "They targeted you," he crowed.  "I knew they would once they had faced you as an archer."  Legolas blinked at him and the meaning of the streamer arrow slowly dawned on him.  Annael was right; the attackers had targeted him because of his archery skills.

Penntalion was now approaching and had heard what Annael said.  He too was smiling.  "You see there is a price to pay for being good," he said.  "Come and sit with me for a few minutes.  I want to talk to you about your performance."  Legolas hastily dumped his gear next to Annael's and went to join the archery master.

"Do you know what you did to expose your position?" Penntalion asked.  Legolas shook his head.  "When you came up from behind the rock," Penntalion told him, "you had your bow held vertically, so that the top of the bow showed before you had risen and signaled the attackers exactly where you would be.  You need to hold the bow horizontally and turn it as you rise."

Legolas was embarrassed that he had made so obvious a mistake.  "I will remember that the next time," he vowed.

Penntalion smiled at him. "I imagine that you will," he said.  "Other than that, you did very well, even when they shot the streamer arrow at you.  You did what you were supposed to do in that situation, although I suspect your reaction may have been inadvertent."  He raised one eyebrow at Legolas, who blushed, for in truth, he did not know what he had done.  "If you are targeted like that," Penntalion told him, "wait until you see the enemy arrows all converging toward you and then move when it is too late for them to retarget.  You need to think about that maneuver because, given your skill as an archer, this will not be the last time you are targeted for special attention."  Penntalion's praise gave Legolas another rush of satisfaction.  He wished he were still in the battle, but he had done well. There would be other novice exercises, and the next time, he vowed, he would do even better.

Penntalion evidently had something more to say.  "You need to anticipate being an enemy target for reasons other than your skills, Legolas."   Legolas looked at him questioningly.  "Your position as the king's son may sometimes lead the enemy to see killing or capturing you as particularly desirable."  He regarded Legolas seriously.  "You will sometimes need to take the same kind of care that a captain takes, even when you are not yet a captain.  Do you understand?"

Legolas nodded reluctantly.  Here was one more in a series of consequences that flowed from who he was and which he could not control but only respond to more or less capably.  "I will remember that," he said soberly. 

Penntalion nodded.  "Good," he said. "Now I think that you are probably needed to help cook the mid-day meal." And he sent Legolas on his way to join the other 'dead' novices in the chores that had fallen their way.  As he worked throughout the day, cooking, fashioning arrows, and occasionally making a circuit around the whole site to make sure it was secure, he took the opportunity to count how many novices were 'dead' from each side.  There were four novices from his own defending team of nine and five from the attacking teach of ten.  He thought the defending team was probably winning the game.

When night came, Lómilad set up the watches, allotting two novices and a master to each.  To Legolas's dismay, he was matched with Maldor, the difficult unarmed combat master, and an older novice named Fómbor, who had been one of the attackers' best archers and, like Legolas, had been targeted with a streamer arrow.  They had the second watch, and Legolas was very glad that Fómbor seemed to be better than he was at engaging Maldor in relatively innocuous conversation between the circuits they made of the camp.

"It is time to check again," Maldor said, shortly before their watch would end.  "You two take that half and I will take this."  They moved off into the darkness to check half of the camp perimeter.

Legolas and Fómbor had reached the extreme southern end of the site when suddenly, the hair on the back of Legolas' neck stood up and he stopped.  He could not have said what exactly made him feel that danger was present, but he did.  Fómbor apparently felt something too, for he also stopped and peered into the woods that approached closely at that point.  Fingering his nocked arrow, Legolas peered off into the trees but could see nothing in the darkness. The trees themselves seemed to stir uneasily, intensifying his concern.  With the loud beating of his own heart in his ears, he waited with Fómbor for something to move, but nothing did.  Fómbor hesitated for only a minute before sounding a series of bird noises.  Then they waited.  After perhaps five minutes, Legolas heard very faint sounds of someone approaching from his left, and his ears told him that it was Maldor, coming in response to their signal.  Neither of them needed to tell the unarmed combat master what the matter was, for Maldor had his own bow half drawn and was looking in the same direction that they were.

"What is it?" he asked in a voice so low that Legolas had to strain to hear it.

"I do not know," Fómbor responded in a similar tone.  "Whatever it is has not moved since Legolas and I first noticed it."

They stood for a moment of indecision, during which Legolas assumed that Maldor was debating whether they should go and investigate further, but suddenly, the feeling of menace began to fade, as if whatever was in the shadows was withdrawing.  "Shall we follow?" he asked Maldor.

Looking shocked, Maldor replied, "Absolutely not. Go and wake Lómilad and send him here," he ordered. "Go through the camp, not around it."

Legolas hastened to obey, rousing the novice master and whispering a quick explanation.  He rather thought that Maldor had not intended him to return with Lómilad, but he did anyway, for he was deeply curious about whatever it was he had sensed.  He stood next to Fómbor, slightly behind the two masters, listening as Maldor told Lómilad what had happened.  "I do not know what it was," Maldor finished, "but the trees did not seem to recognize it as a normal danger.  It could not have been a spider, for instance. The trees would have known."

Lómilad did not hesitate in choosing a course of action. With nineteen novices in his care, he was taking no chances.  "Rouse the masters' camp," he told Maldor. "Legolas, you wake the defending group.  Fómbor, you wake the attackers. We will leave for home in half an hour. Eilian can take care of finding our visitor.  I want these novices out of here."

Legolas hurried to obey his instructions and then to gather his own gear.  In less than the time that Lómilad had allotted, they were on their way.  He managed to whisper an account of what had happened to Annael and then spent the rest of the journey thinking about what had turned out to be an exciting and thought-provoking exercise.  It was only as they neared home that it occurred to him that he had not thought about Miriwen once during this trip.  He felt a little guilty about that, but then decided that under the circumstances, no warrior would have had thoughts about anything other than the task at hand.  And anyway, he did not need to tell her that she had not been in his thoughts.  She would be there now.

A/N:  Writing about Esgaroth created one of those moments for me when I despair of following canon even when I want to.  In "The Hobbit," Tolkien tells us that Esgaroth was once much larger than the Lake-town of that era, but that its fortunes declined when Smaug destroyed Dale in 2770TA, and he says that on the lake, there used to be boats full of gold and warriors in armor.  This story is set around 2520, so Esgaroth is presumably a thriving place. Tolkien does not tell us what wars the Esgaroth warriors fought in, but I assume they were unhappy at the presence of the Balchoth to their south.

*******

7. The Warriors' Trip

(November)

Eilian pushed through the underbrush, searching slowly among the trees near where the novices had been camped the previous week.  He could see Siondel off to his right, searching similarly for signs of the intruder whom Maldor, Legolas, and Fómbor had sensed.  Home Guard patrols had been all over this area since Lómilad had reported the events to Ithilden, who had, in turn, called Eilian in to consult, but this was the first time that Eilian had been in the area. The patrols had found a spot where someone, probably a Man, had stood, but they had found no evidence of who he was or what he might want.  Eilian had tentatively assumed that this Man was the same one who had been in the caves along the Forest River, but that was only an assumption. He needed more information and today's trip was an effort to get it.

He stopped suddenly, some dim awareness of danger tugging on the edge of his consciousness.  Siondel approached.  "This is where he stood, Captain," the lieutenant said, indicating the thicket directly in front of Eilian.  "You can still see where the grass was bent and the bushes were disturbed, but we were unable to tell anything other than that he had been here."

Eilian looked up at the trees.  They were stirring uneasily.  As the faint breeze from the trees' trembling branches touched his face, an all-too-familiar cold shadow slid into his consciousness and made him, too, shiver.  He was aware that Siondel was looking at him curiously, and he closed his eyes, the better to reach out with all his awareness toward where he feared the source of the chill darkness lay.  He opened his eyes again. "He came from Dol Guldur," he asserted.

Siondel blinked.  "How do you know?" he asked, not challenging Eilian's conclusion, but asking for something beyond the flat claim that his captain was making.

"Do you not feel the chill?" Eilian asked.

"Yes," said Siondel slowly.  "Now that you mention it, I do feel something, but it is very slight."

"You have never served in the south, have you?" Eilian asked, and Siondel shook his head.  Few members of the Home Guard ever had.  The two patrols tended to draw warriors with different kinds of temperaments. "I can feel the remnants of shadow here," Eilian said. "Once you have felt it, you can never mistake it for anything else.  And the trees are uneasy, as they are when shadow has touched them.  This Man was at Dol Guldur."  He turned and started back toward where they had left their horses.  "Come," he said.  "We need to let Ithilden and the king know."

***

It was late when Eilian finally reached home, well beyond the usual hour for evening meal.  So, after asking a servant to send a tray of food to the family's small sitting room, he headed directly there, where he knew that he was likely to find both Thranduil and Ithilden at this time of the evening.   He entered to find not only his father and older brother, but also Alfirin and Legolas.  Legolas was playing a small harp and singing the Lay of Lúthien in his clear young tenor, while Alfirin rested against Ithilden's side with his arm around her and Thranduil leaned back contentedly in his chair.  Legolas broke off when Eilian came in, and the others roused themselves to turn to him.

"You found something," said Ithilden, seeing the look on Eilian's face.  Eilian knew that Ithilden was concerned over this second report of a stranger in the Woodland Realm, particularly since the novices and masters had sensed that whoever had been watching them was dangerous.

"Yes, I think we did," Eilian responded and then waited until the servant who brought in a tray of food had left it and departed.

"Eat," said Thranduil.  "What you have to tell us will wait for a few more minutes."

As Eilian sat down to eat the cold meat and bread, Ithilden turned to Alfirin.  "We are going to be talking about warrior matters," he said.  "Will you be bored?  Do you want to go and rest?"

She shook her head and looked faintly annoyed.  "I know that you have been worrying about this intruder," she said.  "Do not patronize me, Ithilden.  This matter concerns the Realm, and it closely concerns you, so it also concerns me.  I will stay."

Ithilden looked for a moment as if he would argue with her, but then he ruefully nodded. Eilian suspected that, in the short course of his marriage, Ithilden had already learned that his sweet-tempered wife was not quite as docile as he had assumed she was.  He also suspected that Ithilden was secretly proud of that fact.

Eilian glanced into the shadows at the edge of the room, to which Legolas had withdrawn when he stopped singing.  He was clearly trying to stay out of sight, hoping that Thranduil would not send him from the room before the conversation about the intruder began.  Their father had always tried not to talk about potentially frightening matters in front of his sons when they were young. Eilian could still remember how thrilled he had been when Thranduil had begun allowing him to be present during serious discussions.  In the last year, Thranduil had sometimes allowed his youngest son stay for such discussions, and Legolas undoubtedly wanted to stay for this one, given that he had encountered the intruder during the novices' mission.

When Eilian finally pushed his plate away, Thranduil asked, "What did you find?"

"The intruder was a lone Man, just as Siondel said," Eilian reported, "and he had been to Dol Guldur."

The others all drew in their breaths. "Are you sure?" Ithilden asked sharply.

"Yes," Eilian answered.  "He was touched by shadow, and the trees were uneasy about it."

Ithilden and Thranduil looked at one another. "I suppose it could be a Man from Esgaroth, but surely it is more likely an Easterling," Ithilden said grimly.  "They are not all gone, although those who remain stay out of sight if they know what is good for them.  It is not inconceivable that one or more of them could be in touch with Dol Guldur. Their allegiance has always been to Sauron."

Thranduil appeared to be pondering what Eilian and Ithilden had said. "Someone should go to Esgaroth," he finally said decisively.  "We need to make sure that this is none of the Men from there and to warn them of what is happening."

"I agree," said Ithilden.

"You will go, Eilian," said Thranduil. "Take someone with you."

"I will take Siondel," Eilian said promptly, pleased at the idea of the trip.  "No one knows more than he does about how and where an intruder might pass so close to the palace.  We can go the day after tomorrow, if that is acceptable."

Alfirin smiled at him.  "Do all warriors look so eager to carry news of possible danger?" she asked teasingly.

Eilian laughed. "I have behaved myself at home for months now.  I deserve to go on a trip."

Thranduil snorted.  "Remember that this is a diplomatic mission," he admonished.  "You are to learn what you can in Esgaroth while keeping the Men there out of our business."

"Yes, Adar," said Eilian, meekly enough, although he had every intention of enjoying himself as much as possible while doing as his father bid.

Thranduil turned his head to look over his shoulder. "Legolas, come and sit down.  There is no reason to hover in the corner."  Looking both sheepish and pleased, Legolas resumed his former place on the rug in front of the fire.

***

Two days later, Eilian and Siondel set out for Esgaroth.  The day was cold and both of them wore fur-lined cloaks as they rode at an easy pace through the bare trees.  The two Elves had gradually grown more at ease with one another over the past weeks, as they recognized the skill and care with which they each did their jobs. They rode slowly enough that they could talk about their mission as they went.

"Have you ever been to Esgaroth?" Eilian asked. "I went once with friends just before I joined the Southern Patrol, but I have not been back since."

"I have been several times," said Siondel.  "The lake-men are fine warriors, and I used to go with Deler sometimes to consult with them about dangers that we might have in common."

They rode in silence for a few moments, both thinking about Deler.  Finally, Eilian shifted the subject.  "Legolas tells me that Annael jumped in front of an arrow meant for their captain during the novice exercises," he said.  "Annael seems to be developing into a fine warrior.  You must be proud of him."

"I am," Siondel admitted, visibly pleased.  "He has never caused me a moment's regret."

"He is a good friend to Legolas," Eilian went on.  "I know that Adar thinks that too."

Siondel grinned.  "I recall the first time Legolas played at our cottage," he said, obviously enjoying the memory.  "He was just an elfling, and he stood up every time I entered the room and waited for my permission to sit or to leave.  Annael could not understand it, but Legolas apparently thought that a well-behaved elfling acted that way in any ada's presence."

Eilian laughed.  "Legolas is still coming to terms with what it means to be Thranduil's son, I think," he said.

Siondel shrugged.  "It cannot be easy for him," he said.  "He is tied down by duty far more than Annael is, for instance."

Again they rode in silence as Eilian thought about what duty meant not only for Legolas but also for himself as one of the king's sons.  Once he had decided that he would wait until Ithilden's baby was born before he pressed for his return to the south, he had found that his time in the Home Guard seemed easier.  He was still counting the days, but he now felt satisfaction when he could occasionally take some responsibility off of Ithilden's shoulders, and he had even found that some of the Home Guard's duties were interesting, this trip to Esgaroth being one example.  It had not occurred to him before that in some ways the Southern Patrol acted in a narrow world compared to the one that Thranduil and Ithilden dealt with on a daily basis.

By the time the early dark closed in, Eilian and Siondel had reached the western edge of the Long Lake and were looking out across the water at the large and prosperous town of Esgaroth, which was built on pilings some way out into the lake.  The town drew its wealth primarily from its importance as a center of trade, and numerous large and small boats could be seen docked at the quays.  The ice of winter had not yet closed in to stop their movement up and down the lake to the town of Dale and the Dwarven kingdom of Erebor.

"There is a guards' hut at this end of the bridge, Captain," Siondel told him. "Do you want to go into the town tonight?"

"I think we will let them know we are here and then camp where we are," Eilian decided.  "I prefer sleeping under the trees and the stars when I can." Siondel grunted his agreement.

The two of them took care of their horses, stowed their gear, and then walked toward the guards' hut, from which they had obviously been watched.  The guard braced himself as they approached, evidently nervous in the presence of Elves.

"I am Eilian Thranduilion," Eilian said, watching impassively as the guard's eyes widened at his patronymic, "and this is Siondel Eärilasion.  We come as representatives of the King of the Woodland Realm. We wish to meet with the town's master tomorrow."

"I will see that a message is sent at once, my lords," the guard assured them.

Siondel was grinning as they returned to their campsite. "He was much more eager to please you than the guards ever were to please Deler and me," he said.

"He was overcome by the sheer force of my personality," Eilian grinned back. "I usually save it to lower the resistance of maidens, but it works on guards as well."

Siondel laughed.  "Why is it that I think there might be some truth in there someplace?" he asked.

In the morning, they had barely finished breakfasting on fish from the icy lake when a Man approached their camp.  He was dressed in the grey uniform of an Esgaroth warrior, and, with some surprise, Eilian recognized him as Beam, the son of the master of Esgaroth.  He had seen Beam when he and his father visited Thranduil in September to talk about trading for timber, but he had not realized that Beam was a warrior, for he had not been wearing any sort of uniform on the trip.

"Welcome to Esgaroth, my lords," he greeted them, with a small bow that they returned in kind.  "I am commissioned to bring you to my father, the town's Master.  Will you come?"  And he led them across the great wooden bridge, through the gates, and into the town.

Eilian looked around him curiously.  As he had told Siondel, he had been to Esgaroth once before, but it seemed to him that the place had grown even busier in the intervening years.  The town had been awake and astir for an hour or more, and its marketplace, which consisted of boats docked in a central pool, was thronged with men and women, who, to the two Elves, were unwashed and unbelievably noisy. The sound of their footfalls on the wooden walkways suggested a herd of Orcs to the Elves' sensitive ears.

The people in the marketplace stared at them with open interest as Beam led them around a corner to a large building where official business was evidently conducted. Uncomfortable under such concentrated scrutiny, Eilian deliberately made his face as expressionless as possible and, from the corner of his eye, he saw Siondel doing the same thing.

"The Town Hall, Captain," Siondel murmured to him, as Beam led them through a pair of large doors.  At the far end of the room sat three Men at table.  Eilian recognized the one in the middle as the town master, Calem, whom he had met briefly on his recent visit to Thranduil's stronghold.  He assumed that the other two were advisors or, perhaps, members of the town's trade council that Thranduil's councilors had tutored him about during the day before he left on this trip.  He and Siondel halted before the table as Beam introduced everyone.

Eilian drew a deep breath. He was not accustomed to carrying out political missions and, while he had seen Thranduil deal with visiting officials, he was not sure that he could imitate his father's manner. Indeed, he was privately unsure whether he even wanted to try.  He inclined his head slightly toward the Men at the table. "Master Calem, good sirs," he said, "King Thranduil sends you his greetings."

"Return our greetings to him," said Calem, and then waved for attendants to bring stools, ale for the Men and wine for the Elves.  They all sat and politely sipped their drinks before settling down to business.

"We have come to you," Eilian began, "because we are searching for a Man, and we thought you might know something of him whom we seek."

"There are many Men here and in Dale," Calem answered.  "Who is the one you seek?"

"He has crossed the Woodland Realm twice that we know of in the last two months," Eilian told him.  "He has harmed no one, but he does not make himself known, and," he paused to give weight to what he had to tell, "he goes to Dol Guldur."  The Men at the table all drew sharp breaths. 

"How do you know?" demanded Calem.  Siondel raised an eyebrow at his abrupt tone, but Eilian chose to ignore it.

"The trees have told us," he answered and watched the Men frown. He had known that they would not understand that answer, and he went on smoothly before Calem had a chance to press further. "Have the people of Esgaroth seen a stranger in the area this autumn?" he asked.

There was a moment's silence, and then Calem turned to his son. "Perhaps you had better tell our guests what has befallen us, Beam," he said.

"We have seen no stranger," Beam said soberly, "but we believe one has been here nonetheless."  Eilian looked at him inquiringly.  "About two weeks ago, one of the night watchmen was stabbed to death while on duty," Beam told him. "No one else saw the attacker, but we did find his weapon."  He pulled a dagger from his belt.  "I have been carrying it, hoping to find some way to locate its owner."  He laid the dagger on the table, and they all regarded it.

The blade and handle of the weapon flowed into one another in a graceful curve, separated by an S-shaped crossguard whose ends were shaped like little claws.  A line of gold ran in a spiral down the handle, separating a row of red gems.  The crevice where the blade met the handle was still stained with a dark substance that Eilian avoided studying too closely.  Eilian and Siondel looked at one another.

"Surely you know who carries such a curved blade," Eilian said to Beam in a neutral tone.

Beam nodded.  "Yes," he said, "the weapon plainly belonged to an Easterling."  There was a moment's silence.

"Perhaps it would have been wise to send word to King Thranduil of such a person in the area," Siondel murmured.

Beam looked a little abashed.  "Perhaps it would have been," he conceded, becoming defensive, "but we had no way of knowing that the intruder had entered Thranduil's realm, and we are capable of maintaining our own security."

"You know now," Eilian said firmly, "and I believe that both parties will benefit if we keep one another informed of what we discover about this Man."

At this point, Calem intervened in the warriors' discussion.  "I agree," he said.  "What steps can you take to learn more, Beam?" he asked his son.

"I will check with the Men of Dale to see if they have useful information, and I will also investigate further here," Beam answered. He turned to Eilian.  "If you like, I can have my men investigate the shores and the edges of the forest up and down the river to see where this Easterling might have entered."

Eilian hesitated.  He liked the idea of Beam's warriors gathering information from Dale and checking the lake shore, but he knew that Thranduil would not want them exercising any kind of authority in the forest.  Evidently, Siondel felt the same way.

"Our Border Patrol needs no help in the woods," Siondel said stiffly, "although, of course, the lake is your responsibility."  Then he glanced at Eilian, evidently wondering if Eilian was going to take offense at his speaking up, but Eilian nodded at him.

"If you will send us word of what you find," Eilian promised, "we will do the same for you."

Calem and the other Men all nodded agreement.  "Will you stay to feast with us this evening?" invited Calem.

Eilian hesitated for only a second.  "Of course," he said, earning a surprised glance from Siondel. Evidently Deler had not been in the habit of feasting with the Men when he and Siondel had made previous trips. Eilian grinned at his lieutenant.  If his mission was to encourage the Men to cooperate with his father's wishes, he knew no better way to gain their good will than to eat and drink with them.  Slowly, Siondel produced an answering grin.  The watching Men blinked nervously as the Wood-elves' expressionless masks dropped away.

"Good," said Calem, a bit uneasily.  "Beam, would you show our guests something of the town?"  And Beam led them from the Town Hall and out into the crowded marketplace.  They walked a few feet, and then Beam ran down a few steps leading from the quay to a small boat carrying fruit and bought apples for all of them.  They strolled along, munching on the fruit.  Eilian eyed the various buildings that Beam pointed out and several pretty girls that he did not.  He smiled at one who was looking at him curiously, and she blushed, looked away, and then turned to smile back at him.  Siondel tugged discreetly on his sleeve, and he turned to find that his lieutenant was smothering a smile.

Beam was watching him dryly and evidently had something he wanted to say.  "I would not want you to think that we were deliberately careless of your people's safety when we failed to tell you about the Easterling," he told Eilian.  "I simply did not think of telling you because I was so intent on finding the bastard.  We fought the Balchoth hard when they were in Rhovanion, and I have sworn to do whatever it takes to keep any of them who remain well away from Esgaroth.  I am afraid that my father says I can be rather reckless sometimes when it comes to fighting the enemy," he added apologetically.

Eilian grinned at him.  "Now that sounds familiar," he said.

The three of them passed the day together pleasantly enough until it was time for the two Elves to return to their camp to bathe and dress for dinner. As they crossed the bridge, Siondel was shaking his head and laughing.

"Eilian," he said, "you had better hope I do not tell Ithilden all the details of this mission.  He will recommend that your father make you a permanent diplomat."

Eilian rolled his eyes and laughed too.  It was the first time that Siondel had addressed him as anything other than "captain."

8. Winter Games

(December)

As she struggled along through the heavy snow, Alfirin pulled her heavy woolen cloak more closely around herself, stretching it protectively over the baby who lay still warmly snuggled in her womb.  In the last month, the swell of her pregnancy had grown considerably, and the cloak was nearly at the limit of what it would cover.  She smiled happily to herself. Four more months. In only four more months, the baby would be in her arms. She would see him, and touch him, and care for him.  In four months, their son would be born. That fact seemed miraculous.  A whole new life would have been brought into the world, and she and Ithilden would have done it.

Carefully, because of the unfamiliar shape and weight of her body, she moved through the deep snow to the top of the hill where the elflings were sledding.  There she stopped and surveyed the scene before her.  Clad in their bright winter cloaks, elflings were screeching happily as they flew down the hill and then chattering to one another as they dragged their sleds up to the top again.  The first snow of the season had begun falling during the previous night, an event that was cause for an annual celebration in the Woodland Realm. The Elves would all gather in Thranduil's hall to feast and make merry tonight, but for elflings, racing downhill on sleds was the real fun of First Snow, and there were a dozen or so on the hill now.  In a few years, she thought, her son would be here too.  She smiled again in the sleepy, deep contentment that seemed to fill most of her waking hours and many of her dreams.

Suddenly, arms reached around her expanded waist from behind and someone's warm lips nuzzled her hood aside and kissed her neck just under her left ear.  "May the first snow gladden your heart, my love," said Ithilden in the traditional greeting of the holiday.  She laughed and placed her hands over his.  "You do not seem very startled," he went on.  "Are you accustomed to being embraced and kissed from behind?"

"I knew it was you," she protested.  "I sensed your approach."

"A likely story," he said and she laughed again.  He rested his chin on the top of her head, and they stood thus for a few moments watching the elflings.  His hands slid over the baby in a gentle caress, and she knew that he was thinking the same thing she had been thinking:  Soon their son would be among the sledders on the hill on the day of First Snow.

She turned in his arms.  "Let us borrow a sled and go the down the hill," she said, seized by a sudden impulse to feel again that exhilarating sense of soaring down a slope on a fast sled.

"Are you mad?" Ithilden demanded, his face a study in genuine horror.  "You are eight months pregnant.  Your mother would have my hide if I allowed you on a sled."

"My mother is not here," she pointed out, suddenly chafing under the increasing restrictions that pregnancy had placed on her movements.

"She would know about it before the sled reached the bottom of the hill," he said fervently.  "Besides, I know that you do not really want to do anything so irresponsible."

Although he was right and she would probably never have actually flung herself facedown on a sled, and indeed, given the size of her belly probably could not have done so, his use of the word "irresponsible" still irritated her.  "What a stick in the mud you are!" she exclaimed and then immediately regretted her words when she saw his face. "I am sorry," she exclaimed.  "I did not mean it." She placed her gloved hand on his cheek.  "I love your sense of responsibility.  It makes you the strongest Elf I know.  But sometimes I wish that you could have less duty and more fun in your life."

He grimaced and then drew her close.  "There are satisfactions in my life," he said softly, "even if I do not look like I am having 'fun.'"  She hugged him back and then they both turned to watch the elflings again.

"What were you like as an elfling, Ithilden?" she asked.   "Did you love First Snow?"

"I did," he said with a small grin.  "I had a sled that Adar had made for me before I was born actually.  Naneth always claimed that he spent the year of her pregnancy stockpiling presents for me."

A voice spoke from behind them. "Your naneth exaggerated," said Thranduil.  They both jumped and turned to look at him.  His footfalls had been muted by the snow, and in their preoccupation with one another, they had not heard him approach.  "I made the sled and some blocks before you were born, but I did not get you a pony until you were at least ten."

They both laughed.  "What was he like as an elfling, Adar?" Alfirin asked, transferring her question to Thranduil.  "Was he daring on his sled?"

Thranduil smiled and then came to stand next to them, watching the elflings on the hill.  "One First Snow, when he was perhaps seventeen or eighteen," he said, "he and a friend piled snow in the middle of the hill so that when sleds went over the bump, they would be launched into the air.  For a while, they were contented with seeing who could make their sled jump the farthest, but when they tired of that, Ithilden suggested that they should try the same move standing up."  He turned to Alfirin.  "Perhaps you will not be surprised to learn that he jumped his sled the farthest, but one of the other elflings fell and broke her wrist.  The other elfling's adar was most upset and let me know – tactfully, of course - what a bad influence my son was."

Ithilden grinned.  "Surely it was Eilian who did that."

Thranduil snorted.  "It was Eilian and his friend Gelmir who left the sledding hill and packed snow hard enough into the sides of the streambed that it was like ice.  Then they swooped back and forth down one side and up the other.  In that case, Eilian was the one who ended up with a broken bone.  His collarbone, I believe.  Gelmir's adar did not need to tell me what kind of influence Eilian was."

Alfirin laughed.  "I remember that," she said.  "I can recall being both fascinated and horrified by their audacity."   At the sound of a particularly loud shriek from an elfling, they all turned to look back down the hill, but the little one was bounding up the slope again, so the noise had apparently been a gleeful one.  "What about Legolas?" Alfirin asked.  "What was he like?"

Thranduil considered.  "Legolas had a friend who was far more creative in thinking up mischief than Eilian ever was, but Nimloth was his caretaker and she usually managed to keep him from engaging in the kind of nonsense his older brothers did."

Alfirin nodded.  She and Ithilden had already arranged to use Nimloth as an occasional caretaker for their son too, but for the most part, she planned to care for her child herself.  She thought a little sadly about Legolas, whose mother had not been there to care for him.  Given his early loss, he was an amazingly secure and happy person, Alfirin thought, and she credited this to the firm discipline with which Thranduil had structured his world and the abundant love with which he and Ithilden and Eilian had filled it.  She hoped that she and Ithilden would be as good parents as she thought their own had been.

"I suppose I had better go and help with the preparations for tonight's feast," Alfirin finally said and turned to go back to the palace.

Ithilden caught her back to him and kissed her forehead.  "Do not tire yourself too much," he admonished.

"Nor you," she responded.  "This is a holiday, remember?  Come home early."

***

Legolas balanced easily on the top rung of the ladder, stretched to his full height and hung another of the polished crystals that constituted the traditional decorations for First Snow.  He reached down, took another crystal from Tonduil's outstretched hand, and then leaned precariously to his right to hang it too.  Then he started down the ladder, jumping the last few feet to the floor.  He stood between Tonduil and Annael, and they all looked around the Great Hall with satisfaction.  They and the other elves working in the Hall were nearly finished transforming it into a glittering setting for the First Snow feast.

"It looks very pretty," said Tonduil approvingly.  "And I can smell the food from the kitchen already."  Legolas and Annael nodded their agreement. They were still at an age to be hungry all the time and the aromas coming from the palace kitchens had been growing stronger for the last hour and more.

"I hate to take you away from this," Legolas finally said, "but will you come and look at Sadron?  I know that he is old for a horse and that there is probably nothing I can do for him now except let him be, but would you look anyway?"  Thranduil had given Sadron to Legolas for his twenty-fifth begetting day, when he was old enough, his father had said, to care for an animal on his own.  Lately, the horse had been showing his age and Legolas had been riding other horses from the king's stables, but he still fussed over Sadron.

"I would be happy to," Tonduil said promptly and the three of them started for the stables.  As they crossed the great reception hall, they met Alfirin and Miriwen, who were evidently on their way to the family's private quarters. They paused to speak to one another.

"Alfirin is going to lie down for a while," Miriwen told them, "under apprentice healer's orders."

Legolas smiled.  "Ithilden will thank you anyway," he said.

"As will our mother," Tonduil added. Alfirin made a face at her brother and brother-in-law from behind Miriwen's back.  They both laughed and, with Annael, went on their way, leaving the two she-elves to continue toward Alfirin and Ithilden's suite.

"You and Legolas seem to be getting along well," Alfirin observed.  "I thought perhaps you and he were seeing less of one another when I saw you at the autumn dancing with Falad and even Eilian."

"Legolas was away on the novice exercises," Miriwen protested, "or I would have been with him.  I think that Falad is the best friend I have, and Eilian is very entertaining!"

"That he is," agreed Alfirin, as they entered the suite's sitting room.  "Now let me see. Where is that basket of dyes?  I used it when I was coloring the wool for the baby blanket." She searched among the supplies stacked next to her loom in one corner.  "Here it is," she said and handed a small packet to the younger elf.  "Tell your naneth that she can keep that.  I have plenty more."

"Thank you," said Miriwen, with a small, satisfied smile.  "It will be put to good use, I promise."

***

From Legolas's point of view, the feast that night was one of the best he had been to in a long time.  The food was wonderful; the wine was good; the music was memorable; and best of all, Thranduil allowed him to spend the entire time with his friends.  He had not even been required to wear formal robes.  His father was apparently still pleased with Legolas's behavior both at home and in the novice training.  "You are growing up," he had said that morning, when he had told his son that his presence would not be required at the high table. "You merit some reward."  Thranduil's praise still sang in Legolas's ears, although the pressure of Miriwen's hip snuggled up close against his on the bench was causing his blood to sing more warmly yet.  Even the presence of Falad across the table from them could not ruin the evening.

Not that Falad did not try.  To Legolas, it seemed that Falad was intent on at least lessening his pleasure in the feast, for he kept bringing up reminiscences from the childhood that he and Miriwen had shared as they lived next door to one another.  "Do you remember the time that we found the fox cubs whose mother had been killed?" he was now asking.

"Oh, yes," Miriwen responded. "Poor things.   We fed them for a month, I think.  I was heartbroken when they finally went off on their own."

A voice on Miriwen's other side now entered the conversation.  "You are very softhearted, my dear," it purred.  Legolas could feel Miriwen tense at the speaker's familiar tone, and everyone turned to look at the Elf who had spoken, including even Annael and Tonduil, who were seated across from Legolas and had been deeply engrossed in a conversation about the half-dozen or so new horses that Thranduil's stable master had just acquired.  The speaker was a warrior whom Legolas did not know, but it suddenly dawned on him that this must be Galelas's brother, Tinár, for Galelas sat next to Falad and his father, Corfildor, sat next to Galelas.  The she-elf sitting on Tinár's other side must be his and Galelas's mother.

Legolas had been surprised to find Falad and Miriwen sitting near Galelas at the start of the evening, but the room was crowded and he had assumed they had had no choice.  He regretted the proximity even more now, for he had heard Eilian say that Tinár was home on leave, and Eilian's tone of voice had not made that sound like a good thing.

"I am sorry," Legolas said coolly. "I do not believe that we have been introduced."

Tinár smiled smugly.  "I am Tinár," he said, as if that should be enough.

"Legolas, you have certainly heard me speak of my son," Corfildor called proudly, from down the table.  "And you have undoubtedly heard Eilian speak of him too, for he assisted your brother until Ithilden felt he was needed elsewhere."

As a matter of fact, Legolas had seldom heard Eilian speak directly of Tinár, for his sometimes impulsive brother could be amazingly discreet when it came to matter of his command.  But Legolas had still gained an impression of Galelas's older brother from the tone of the few things that Eilian had said, from boastful remarks made by Corfildor, and from some resentful comments made by Galelas himself.  Legolas gathered that Tinár was their father's favorite and that Corfildor took no trouble at all to hide that feeling. Whenever Legolas encountered any of Galelas's family, he felt sympathy for his fellow novice, a fact that made him despise Galelas's family even more.

"So you are Legolas," said Tinár.  "I understand from things that Galelas has said that you are interested in becoming an archer.  If you like, I will be happy to teach you a bit while I am home."

Legolas looked across the table at Galelas, who had turned red at his brother's condescending remark.  Galelas glanced at him briefly, and Legolas could have sworn he saw an apology in his expression.

"Legolas is already an outstanding archer," Annael said indignantly.

"I am sure he is doing well among the novices," said Tinár patronizingly.  "Galelas does well too, I hear."  Galelas looked even more deeply pained but still held his tongue.

"Galelas is good enough," said Corfildor, "but he does not have your talent, Tinár."

Tinár smirked and then looked at Miriwen.  "And who might you be, my love?" he asked.

Legolas opened his mouth to say something indignant at this rude overfamiliarity, but Falad beat him to it.  "She is not your love," he said sharply.

"Shall I take it that she is yours then?" Tinár asked with raised eyebrows. "That is too bad for her." He turned to Miriwen.  "I assure you that you have been wasting your time on these elflings, my dear," he said with an obnoxious smile.

Legolas started to rise from the bench, but Miriwen gripped his wrist in a surprisingly strong grasp.

"Leave off, Tinár," mumbled Galelas.  His brother looked at him and laughed, but then was distracted when a servant brought a platter of sweets and set it on the table.  Their father and mother got up to join in a line of dancers who were whirling around the middle of the room.

Legolas was so furious that he was shaking, but his attention was suddenly caught by Miriwen and Falad exchanging what looked like a meaningful gaze. Simultaneously, they nodded, and then Falad turned away to hide what looked like a smile.  Legolas felt a flash of jealousy at the wordless understanding they seemed to share and wondered what it was all about.

"We have been looking at an interesting human disease in the infirmary," Miriwen said, evidently intent on changing the subject.  Legolas was not sure how welcome this particular change was.  He had been with Miriwen and Falad sometimes when the details of the healers' work had been discussed much too graphically for his taste.

"One of the Men bringing goods from Esgaroth was brought in to be treated yesterday," she went on.  "He had some new fever that is apparently very contagious among Men.  Indeed, Belówen told Falad and me that we could not be near Men for two weeks because, even with the brief contact we had with the sick Man, we might be carrying the sickness now.  I gather that it has been sweeping through all the nearby towns of Men, although, of course, Elves cannot catch it."

"Thank the Valar we are not Men," said Tinár, with a shudder. He drained his wine.

Falad rose from his seat.  "I am going to get more wine," he said.  "May I get you some while I am up, Tinár?"  Legolas stared at him open-mouthed.  Had he no pride at all that he was willing to actually wait on an Elf who had insulted him?  Miriwen was evidently worried that Legolas would not be so forgiving, for she still had a firm grip on his arm.  Of course, she was also rubbing her thumb along the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow, so he was somewhat mollified.

Tinár handed Falad his cup, and Falad left and returned with more wine for himself and Galelas's brother.  "Here you are," he said cheerfully, having apparently forgotten all about the earlier disturbance.

Tinár took a deep draught and then leaned toward Miriwen.  Legolas recalled the dagger in his boot but reminded himself that Tinár undoubtedly carried one too and that his father would be most displeased if he started a brawl in the Great Hall.  He would probably have to sit within Thranduil's reach at feasts for the rest of his life.  Miriwen's forehead puckered as she looked at Tinár.  "Are you feeling unwell?" she asked in sudden concern. "Your face is pale."

Tinár looked startled, as well he might given that, in Legolas's opinion, his face was actually rather flushed from the wine.  "I am feeling fine," Tinár protested.

"I must have been mistaken," Miriwen said easily.  "Do you like the wine?"

"Yes," Tinár answered.  "One thing you have to say about the king: He knows good wine when he tastes it."  He took another deep drink of the wine.

"Do you know," said Falad, "I think that Miriwen may be right.  You do not look well, Tinár."  He hesitated.  "Are you perhaps experiencing some mild aching in your muscles?"

Tinár frowned.  "No," he said.  "Really, I am fine."

Legolas looked at Tinár.  He could not see any signs of illness, but if both Miriwen and Falad said that Tinár looked ill, perhaps he was.

Falad lowered his voice and leaned toward Tinár.  "I do not wish to insult you," he said in a deeply concerned voice, "but is it possible that you have human blood?"

"Of course not!"  Tinár's reply was sharp and Galelas, who had been looking as puzzled as Legolas felt, now also looked insulted.

"Good," said Falad with relief in his voice.  "The symptoms you are exhibiting are those of the disease that Miriwen and I were talking about. I would not like to think that we had given it to you."

"You do not need to worry," Tinár all but snarled.  "There is no human blood in our family."

To Legolas's intense annoyance, Miriwen patted his hand. "Good," she said.  "I was beginning to worry too."

Tinár looked placated by her touch.  "You need not worry about me, my dear."  He drained his cup of wine.  "Excuse me," he said.  "I will be right back."  And he left the room.

"What are you doing?" Legolas whispered to Miriwen.  "He is an obnoxious, boastful, lecherous pig.   Why are you being nice to him?"

She smiled at Legolas and put her mouth near his ear to whisper back. Her breath tickled his ear pleasantly. "Do you remember the letter that Galelas sent to Lómilad about Falad?" she asked.  He nodded, perplexed by why she was talking about that now.  "Falad and I are sending a message back," she said, "only we have decided at the last moment to redirect it a bit."

At that moment, Tinár came hurrying up to speak to Falad on the other side of the table.  The look on his face was one of sheer horror. Legolas strained his ears to hear what he was saying.  "Are there other symptoms of the sickness you mentioned?" he was asking.  "Does it perhaps - " he hesitated and lowered his voice still further. "Could it possibly make one's urine turn green?"

Falad's eyes widened.  "It does!" he exclaimed.  Tinár gestured frantically for him to keep his voice down.  Legolas leaned forward slightly.  He was beginning to see what had happened, and he did not want to miss a word of this.  A hush had descended on the table, and he knew that the others were all listening too.

"This cannot be," Tinár insisted, distressed enough that he had forgotten about a possible audience.  "There is no human blood in our family!"

Falad shrugged.  "I do not know what to say," he answered.  "The disease has appeared thus far only in Men."

"What should I do?" Tinár asked.  "Shall I go to the infirmary?"

"I would not," said Falad hastily.  "The disease will go away by itself after a day or two, and you do not want the healers to suspect anything about your tainted blood."

Tinár moaned. Then he turned toward Miriwen and bowed. "You will have to excuse me, love," he said.  "I fear that we will need to continue our conversation another day." And he stumbled from the Great Hall, a very disturbed Elf.

The young Elves still sitting at the table, including Galelas, all looked at one another.  "You did this," said Galelas flatly to Falad and Miriwen.

They nodded and then, suddenly, they all burst out laughing.  Legolas was laughing so hard that he put his head down on the table, and tears were actually rolling down Tonduil's face.

"He is not injured," Miriwen assured Galelas, choking on her mirth.  "The dye is harmless."

"Ah, but he is injured in his most vulnerable spot," Galelas hiccupped.  "His pride will never be the same."

"I hope so," said Legolas firmly and then dissolved into hoots again.

9.  Surprises

(January)

Thranduil rode the stallion into the stableyard and dismounted.  The stable master came forward, trailed by Tonduil, who called to the horse and spoke a few confidential words to him.  “What do you think?” the stable master asked. “Will he do?”

“I believe he will,” said Thranduil approvingly.  He glanced over at Tonduil. “What do you think, Tonduil?” he asked.  “Would Legolas like him for a begetting day present?”

Tonduil smiled broadly.  “He would be a fool if he did not,” he proclaimed.  “This beauty is the finest of the lot we got from the Rohirrim on this trip.”

Thranduil laughed.  “I will take your word for it,” he said, “for I am told that you have very good judgment when it comes to horses.” Tonduil blushed and ducked his head, obviously pleased by the king’s praise. “Do not tell Legolas, though,” Thranduil added. “It is a surprise.”

“Then it will remain a surprise,” Tonduil promised.  “I cannot wait to see his face, though.”

“Tonduil,” said the stable master, “you tend to the stallion while I speak to the king. I want to tell him about our plans for breeding our own horses so that we are less dependent on the Rohirrim for acquiring them.”

“It is a very good plan, my lord,” Tonduil said earnestly and then led the stallion away while the stable master led Thranduil into his office and began a lengthy explanation of his idea.

Thranduil listened patiently. The plan was a sound one and, in general, he approved of anything that made the Woodland Realm more independent.  “Go ahead,” he finally said.  “We lose nothing in trying.”  He shifted his cloak uncomfortably on his shoulders. During his ride, snow had built up around its bottom edge where it had dragged through drifts and fallen from branches onto his shoulders, and while he had been listening to the stable master, the snow had melted, leaving the cloak soaking wet.

“My lord,” exclaimed the stable master, “that must be very uncomfortable.  We always have an old cloak or two lying about. Why do you not borrow one and I will send yours back to the palace?”  He caught up an ancient gray cloak from a peg near the door and offered it to the king.

Thranduil accepted his offer and, in some amusement, traded his fur-lined cloak of fine wool for the rather tattered garment that the stable master offered.  In the doorway, he hesitated.  Then he set off on a path that he did not normally take, the one that passed by the warriors’ training areas on the way to the palace.

He strode along the path between the practice fields, watching the warriors at work with a knowledgeable eye.  Since Legolas had joined the ranks of the novices, he did not often come this way, for he knew from his experience with Ithilden and Eilian as novices that his son was likely to be made uncomfortable by his presence at the training fields.

He felt safe enough taking this path today though.  With the hood up on the borrowed cloak, he did not believe he was readily recognizable. So he lingered, assessing the skills of his warriors and searching for the group of novices to which Legolas belonged.  Ithilden had passed the novice masters' reports of Legolas's growing proficiency along to Thranduil, but he wished to take this unlooked for opportunity to see his youngest son's skill for himself.

Suddenly he spotted the blond head among a small group who were standing around a novice master in a field that was ahead on his left.  He approached the field quietly and stood leaning against the fence.  The master was giving some sort of explanation, using his own bow to show the novices what he meant.  They were listening attentively and Thranduil took a moment to study his tall, slim son.  He felt an unexpected twinge of longing for a small hand placed trustingly in his as an elfling skipped along beside him, or a chubby arm wrapped around his neck as he carried a fragrant, sleepy baby to bed. There was nothing small or chubby about his son now, he thought, with a wry half smile.

Two of the novices were running to the far end of the field and taking up a position behind a wooden wall.  Legolas moved to one side with the novice master, and Thranduil recognized Annael as the novice who remained in the center of the field. Annael readied his bow, and the novice master called to the two novices at the other end of the field.  At his call, they began to fire arrows marked with small metal disks, shooting three arrows each in quick succession.  Annael drew and fired rapidly and was able to bring down three of the arrows, which Thranduil thought was a respectable performance, given that the arrows had been fired in all directions.  The novice master evidently thought so too, for Thranduil could hear him call, "Good!"  Annael trotted off to join the novice master, and Legolas now took his place in the center of the field.

Thranduil felt himself tense, but Legolas looked cool enough, his face gathered in a look of utter concentration.  "Go!" the novice master called, and the archers again fired a swift series of three arrows each.  Legolas did not look as if he were hurrying at all, as he methodically drew and fired, the twang of release after release following in measured succession.   Thranduil held his breath as four – no, five! – of the arrows were brought down and then let it out again in delight as Legolas tracked the sixth arrow and knocked it from the sky at the last possible moment.

The other three novices all let out whoops of delight.  Even from where Thranduil stood, he could see his son's grin. "Very good!" called the master.

"Very good, indeed," said a gleeful voice at his elbow.  Thranduil turned to find that Eilian had come up next to him. "How does the saying go?" Eilian asked.  "He could hit a bird's eye in the dark."

Thranduil gave him a small smile. "He is very skilled," he said reservedly.

Eilian laughed.  "Adar, you know that you want to whoop like those novices over there," he said.  "Anyone can see that you are proud of Legolas, even when you try not to show it."

Thranduil felt his smile broaden.  "He is doing well," he admitted.

He paused and then decided to take advantage of Eilian's presence to find out what he could about his youngest son's other activities.  "I must admit, though, that I am occasionally concerned about his courtship of the little maiden."  He raised his eyebrow inquiringly at Eilian, suspecting that if Legolas had confided in anyone other than Annael, it would be Eilian.

Eilian hesitated.  "I do not think there is anything to worry about," he said slowly, "although I would not let them spend too much time alone together."  Thranduil grimaced.  He did not like the sound of that.  Even young elves were customarily able to bring their bodies under the control of their minds, but when one was as curious as Legolas was, that did not always stop a certain amount of experimentation. And physical and emotional closeness were united in Elves, which meant that any experimentation that was too bold would end in tears, given the expectations that warriors faced.

Eilian looked at his father. "Other than preventing them from having too much privacy, though, you should let him work it out on his own, Adar. He is gradually coming to understand what his future holds, but if you interfere, he will dig his heels in and learn nothing."

Thranduil sighed.  All of his experience as a father told him that Eilian was right, and it was best not to interfere. And if Eilian did not think there was anything to worry about, there probably was not.  He turned back to the practice field, where Annael and Legolas had changed places with the pair who had been behind the wall at the end of the field.  Another novice, whom Thranduil did not recognize, was now trying his hand at the drill.

"Are you in disguise?" Eilian asked conversationally.  He looked excessively innocent and Thranduil could not resist an answering sally.

"Is that an example of the diplomacy that I am told you practiced so skillfully with the Men of Esgaroth?" he responded.

Eilian laughed.  "Yes," he said, "which is why you should never make me a diplomat."

Thranduil laughed too and then changed the subject.  "Since you are not giving me a report about the Easterling intruder, I assume that the patrols you sent out this morning came back empty handed?"

"We have found no further sign of him," Eilian agreed.  "Perhaps he has gone back wherever he came from and will bother us no more."

Thranduil smiled wryly at Eilian's tone.  "You sound a little wistful," he teased.

Eilian laughed.  "His appearance was the most exciting event to happen since I began working with the Home Guard," he agreed and then added more soberly, "but I am glad that he is gone. I would not want anyone having contact with Dol Guldur to be so near to home."  He hesitated.  "I can always find my excitement elsewhere," he added.

Thranduil frowned.  "What do you mean by that?" he challenged.  Eilian, too, apparently intended to take advantage of their conversation to find out something that he wanted to know.

"I mean," said Eilian evenly, "that after the baby is born, I expect Ithilden to send me back to my patrol."

"Has Ithilden agreed to that?" Thranduil demanded, turning to face him squarely.

"No, but he implied it when he assigned me to the Home Guard," Eilian asserted, setting his jaw stubbornly.

Thranduil turned back to the practice field, although he could not have said what was happening there.  When he had ordered Ithilden to assign Eilian to the Home Guard, he had somehow thought that he would know when the danger to his son was past, and he was not yet convinced that it was so.  Yet, he also knew that he could not keep Eilian home indefinitely.  Or rather, he supposed that he could, but it would be at a terrible price in family turmoil.  He became aware that Eilian was waiting for him to say something. "You have been doing good work with the Home Guard," he said finally.  "I am proud of you as well as Legolas."

Eilian stared at him for a moment and then let out an exasperated sound.  "By your leave, Adar," he said angrily and, without waiting for permission, went on his way.

***

Miriwen swung the closed basket at her side as she walked along through the woods with Falad.  They had been out all afternoon but had thus far found only one patch of the haru plant poking up through the snow.  It was known to grow in the area which they were now nearing, and she hoped they would find more of it there.  The hardy plant was used to stimulate the healing of wounds and reduce bleeding, and the infirmary's supplies were lower than Belówen liked to see, so he had sent the two youngest apprentices out to see what they could find.

"Let us split up and search around the beech trees," Falad suggested. "Haru likes the beeches, so we are most likely to find it there." She nodded in agreement and started off to their left as Falad made his way through the woods to their right.

She hummed to herself as she searched. The trees were all but asleep, and she crooned a lullaby for them under her breath.  To her delight, she found a patch of the plant almost immediately. She cut as much as she could and then moved on to search further.  She had been searching for an hour or more and was beginning to wonder how Falad was doing, when suddenly she stopped and straightened up, for she had just realized that the trees here were more restive than they should have been. Something was the matter.  Her hand strayed to the knife that was thrust through her belt.  Healers did not normally carry weapons, but none of Thranduil's people would enter the woods unarmed.

"Falad!" she called, as she backed away from the area and looked around.  He did not answer, so she called more loudly. "Falad!"

Suddenly, a hissing noise sounded from above and something sticky brushed against her face.   She slapped it aside frantically and looked up to see a giant spider crouched in the tree directly over her head.  She screamed and at the same time drew the knife and turned to run, but the beast dropped down directly on her, striking her in the back and knocking her to the ground.  Before she could do anything, she felt the sharp sting of its bite in the center of her back right through her cloak.  She rolled over, knocking it off her, and slicing frantically at it with the knife.

Even as she stabbed at it, however, she could feel the tingling in her arms and legs that meant that the venom was already starting to take effect.  Her arms felt heavy and were refusing to obey her terrified desire to fight the spider off.  The knife dropped from her paralyzed fingers.  Her legs were no longer moving, and she suddenly realized that the spider was beginning to spin a web around them.

"Miriwen!" called a familiar voice.

At that moment, an arrow whizzed past her and struck the spider, passing through it and actually pinning it to the beech tree.  Black blood spurted out, fouling her legs.  She was sobbing now, distressed by the blood and by the tingling darkness that was beginning to move in and out of her vision.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around her.  "Miriwen, are you all right?" said the voice, and she looked up to see Eilian crouching over her.  "Did it bite you?" he asked urgently.

"Yes," she gasped.  "Is Falad hurt?"

"I have not seen him," said Eilian.  He turned, and she could see now that there were three other warriors with him.  It must be a Home Guard patrol, she thought rather muzzily.  Eilian was issuing orders.  "Find Falad. He is around here and may be hurt.  If he is all right, bring him here at once. He may be able to help her." He turned back to Miriwen. "Where did it bite you?" he asked.  She stared at him, unable even to understand the question clearly much less answer it.  "Miriwen!" he said more loudly. "Where did it bite you?"  But she could not answer.

He picked up her knife and cut away the strands of web.  Then he removed her cloak and rapidly began to examine her, quickly finding the wound in her back.  Using her knife, he cut the back of her gown away and exposed the wound.  He took one look at the bite and then turned to snap his fingers at the warrior who watched nearby.  "Get one of the emergency healing kits," he ordered.

"Miriwen!" cried Falad's voice, and then he was next to her.  "I was too far away," he was saying frantically.  "I did not even know that something was wrong."  He was hurriedly grabbing the healing supplies from Eilian's hands.  "Get me some clean snow," he ordered one of the warriors, who hastened to obey. 

Miriwen was aware that Eilian was catching her up and holding her to him as Falad wiped the snow across her bare back and then applied something that stung viciously.  She moaned. "It is all right," crooned Eilian's voice.  "I know it hurts, but it will be better soon."  She clung to him as best she could, wanting his comforting voice to go on talking to her.

"That is all I can do," she heard Falad say.  "Can you get her home quickly?"  She was just aware enough to feel a cloak being wrapped around her and then know that she was being lifted into the arms of someone on horseback.

"Do not worry, little one," Eilian was murmuring.  "You are safe.  I promise you that you will be well."  Then, for a moment, she could hear him talking to someone else.  "Scour the area and make sure there are no other nasty surprises about.  Then see to it that warnings are issued so that people take care until we are certain the area is safe."

"Yes, Captain," someone said.

Then he turned back to her.  "Hold tight, little one. I will have you home in no time."  And he drew her close to him and urged his horse into motion.

***

Legolas was frantic.  "Are you sure that she is all right?" he cried again.

"I am sure," said Eilian firmly.  "Belówen is with her, and she is home where her parents can take care of her."

Legolas turned to his father and once again begged, "Please let me go to see her, Adar."

"They will not let you in, Legolas," Thranduil told him yet again.  "You can see her tomorrow. I will even send word to the novice masters asking that you be excused from training for an hour or so once Belówen says that she can have visitors.  But for tonight, you need to leave her in the hands of the healers and her family." He put his arm around his son's shoulder.  "She will be well," he said.  "Belówen says that Falad gave her good emergency treatment, and Eilian got her to the healers quickly.  She will be fine."

And with that, Legolas had to be content until the next day.

***

Trailed by Eilian, Legolas stepped shyly into Miriwen’s sleeping chamber.  He had never been in here before, and, despite the fact that her mother had invited him in, he felt as if he were intruding.  There were small china ornaments on the bedside table and, although he hastily averted his gaze, what looked like feminine underclothing lay on the chair in the corner.  When Miriwen turned her head and smiled in welcome, however, he hurried forward to take her hand and sit on the edge of her bed.  “How are you?” he asked anxiously.

“I am fine,” she assured him.  “I am taking the antidote for the venom and my back does not even hurt anymore.” She smiled at Eilian over his shoulder.  “I cannot thank you enough for what you did.”

Eilian came forward. Thranduil had sent him to fetch Legolas from the novice training, and he had taken the opportunity to come and see for himself that Miriwen was well.  “You should not be thanking me,” he said ruefully. “If the Home Guard had been doing its job, that spider would never have gotten so close to the palace. I should be apologizing to you.” And indeed, Legolas knew that the rumor on the training fields was that Eilian had spent the morning making sure both that the spider who had bitten Miriwen was alone and that everyone who served under him would scramble to keep such an incident from ever happening again.  Eilian was normally easy going, but he had a tongue as sharp as Ithilden’s when he chose to use it.

“Nonetheless,” she said, “you probably save my life.”

Eilian shrugged.  “Falad did his part, too,” he said. Then he added, “I must be on my way now.  Legolas, do not forget that you are excused for only an hour.  Be sure that you get back on time.”

Keeping his gaze fixed on Miriwen, Legolas nodded, although he was not absolutely certain exactly what his brother had just said.  He could hear Eilian stifle a laugh and then his brother was gone.  Then, to Legolas’s delight, the baby cried and Miriwen’s mother went to find out what the matter was, leaving them alone.

“Was it very terrible?” Legolas asked.  “I am so sorry that I was not there.”

“It was frightening,” Miriwen admitted, “and of course you could not be there, although I have to admit that I was very glad that Eilian was.  Once he had hold of me, I started to believe that everything would be all right.”

Legolas laughed.  “Eilian can be very comforting sometimes,” he admitted. “Now tell me all about it.”  And he settled back to listen to her story and tell her how brave she had been. At the end of an hour, her mother returned to shoo him away, and he went with a much lighter heart.

***

Ithilden was dreaming again.   Thranduil stood to his left on the slope of a mountain.  A river ran around the base of the mountain, and on the other bank, he could see dwarves carrying axes and swarming as if for battle.  A trumpet sounded.  He turned to his right and saw a dark-haired young warrior who resembled Eilian but was not his brother.  "Be careful," Ithilden warned.

The young Elf grinned.  "You worry too much, Adar," he said and, bow in hand, he bounded away down the slope toward where battle was about to be engaged.

Ithilden woke suddenly and lay for a few moments, quietly fretting over the dream.  He remembered what Thranduil had said about prophetic dreams and hoped fervently that this dream did not fall into that category.  He often told Alfirin about his dreams, but he did not think he would tell her about this one.

***

Eilian stirred restlessly and rolled over in his bed.  A spider was wrapping sticky ropes around him, binding his legs together and pinning his arms to his side.  He was cutting at the ropes as fast as he could, trying to cut them away even as the spider wrapped them around him.  Suddenly he was free.  He was swinging through the tree tops looking for someone who was hurt.  I think that I will just fly, he told himself. That will be faster.  And he soared way into the clear blue sky.

***

Legolas dreamed that he was at the novice training fields, firing arrows as fast as he could with the fierce concentration that he knew at no other time. The archery master was throwing spiders into the air for him to shoot.  But then he looked up and saw a giant, winged creature blocking the stars.  It must be night, he thought in surprise.  He knew without being told that the flying beast was foul and would attack those he loved unless he did something.  He drew his bow and launched an arrow that pierced the creature's breast and sent it plummeting to earth.  His blood sang with the thrill of the kill.  This is what I was born for, he thought.

***

Thranduil dreamed that Lorellin was in danger in the forest.  He was racing to help her before one of the foul beasts harmed her.  She was calling for him, but when he finally arrived her side, she cried, "No, I am beyond help.  Help him!"

Thranduil looked around in confusion.  "I do not know where he is," he said. "How can I help him if I cannot find him?"

Suddenly, he was standing in a grove of trees with an elfling in his arms.  "Here you are," he said. "Safe at last."  But in the background, he could hear someone weeping.

*******

A/N:  Eilian's comment about hitting a bird's eye in the dark is taken directly from Chapter IX of "The Hobbit."

10.  Contests

(February)

"Good, Legolas!" said Thelion.  The blade master stepped back and lowered his scimitar.  "You have made real progress in adjusting to the way the curved blade affects your parry.  Remember that a curved sword is primarily a cutting weapon, rather than a thrusting one.  That should tell you what to anticipate."   He glanced around at the group of four novices, all of them looking a little worse for wear at the end of a day of training in how to fight against the curved sword favored by Orcs and Easterlings.  "I think that is enough for today," he said, although it was actually a bit early for training to end.

"Wait," Legolas begged. "Let me try one more time. I know I can get under your defense."  He was aware of a smothered groan from one of his fellow novices.  He threw them an apologetic glance, and Annael smiled weakly back at him. Galelas and Isendir both looked exasperated.

"Not today," Thelion laughed.  "You are all tired, and training when you are too tired is a good way to court injury. Besides, Legolas, I have been told that you are wanted in the king's stables when you are done here, so we had better not be too late."

"My adar's stables?" Legolas asked.  "Do you know why?"

"I do not know," said Thelion.  "Ithilden passed the message to me when we took the last break."

Legolas frowned.  Perhaps his horse, Sadron, had developed some problem that his father's horse master wanted to talk to him about.   The horse had been slowing up lately, showing his age.  Legolas could still ride him, but he did not think he would be able to for much longer. And the horse was really no longer fit for some of the more rigorous exercises in the warrior training.  He sighed.  Thranduil had told him that he would have to decide what was to be done with Sadron, for the horse was his responsibility.  He loved the animal and would do his best by him, but he was not looking forward to watching the horse get older.  He followed the other novices off the training field.

"What is wrong with you?" Galelas asked irritably.  "We will be doing this again tomorrow, you know."

"I am sorry," Legolas said ruefully. "I got caught up in the exercise."

Galelas shook his head.  "You must not be going to see Miriwen tonight, or you would not have been so eager to stay."

Legolas blinked. Galelas had been decidedly friendlier since Miri and Falad had played the trick on his brother at the First Snow feast.  The remark he has just made came as close to teasing Legolas as he had ever come.  "Actually, I am going to see her," he said, "but not until later. Her training takes long hours."

They had reached the point where the paths that led to their various homes diverged.  "Do not accept any wine from her," Galelas said with a hoot of laughter, and he and Isendir departed for their cottages.

Legolas and Annael looked at one another.  "Has it occurred to you that Galelas may be taken with Miriwen?"  Annael asked.

Legolas laughed. "Actually, I believe that he is afraid of her," he said, "with good reason, I might add. He was her original target for that joke."

"Does he know that?" Annael asked.

"Oh, yes," said Legolas.  He looked at Annael out of the corner of his eye. "I felt that he needed to be warned, so that he could avoid trouble."  Annael laughed.  "I am going to my adar's stables," Legolas went on. "Would you like to come?"

"Of course," Annael agreed. A trip to Thranduil's stables was always worthwhile, for he had some of the finest horseflesh in the Realm. Moreover, Annael had talked to Tonduil yesterday and strongly suspected that he knew why Legolas was being summoned there.

As they approached the stables, Legolas could see that Sadron was in a nearby pasture.  He and Annael stopped and looked at the horse over the fence. Legolas whistled and the horse pricked up his ears and came trotting over. He stroked the horse's muzzle and then patted his neck.  The horse nuzzled happily at his chest.  "I do not have anything for you," Legolas apologized. "I am sorry."   With a final pat, he stepped back, and then he and Annael went on, leaving Sadron watching them over the fence.

They entered the warm stable, redolent of horses, and found Thranduil talking to the horse master at the other end of a line of stalls. Both Elves turned as they came in.  "Adar," said Legolas in surprise, "did you want me?"

"Yes, I did," Thranduil responded. "Good evening, Annael."

"Good evening, my lord," Annael responded, his eyes going past the king toward the stallion in the last stall.

Thranduil smiled.  "I have something for you, Legolas," he said, "an early begetting day present."  He turned and indicated the horse.

Legolas walked forward, his mouth open.  "Adar," he said, "he is beautiful." The horse was a dark bay with a blaze of white on his face.  He was moving somewhat nervously in the stall, regarding Legolas with large, dark eyes.

"Let us get him out," Thranduil said to the stable master, who opened the stall and spoke softly to the horse.  The stallion strode into the open space between the rows of stalls and stood quietly while Legolas approached.

"Does he have a name?" he asked.

"That is for you and him to decide," said Thranduil.  "He is yours if he agrees to be."

Legolas slid a hand over the muscular shoulder.  "What is your name?" he asked in a low coaxing voice.  "What would you like to be called?"

Thranduil grinned.  "Why do you not take him for a ride and see what the two of you come up with?" he suggested. "Would you like to borrow a horse, Annael?" he asked.

Annael shook his head.  "Thank you, my lord," he said, "but I should be getting home.  I just wanted to see what Tonduil was talking about."

Legolas smiled at him over his shoulder.  "I will see you in the morning," he said, and Annael went on his way.   Legolas turned to Thranduil.  "Will you ride with me, Adar?"

His father looked delighted at the invitation.  "Gladly," he said, as the stable master ran to get his horse.  Legolas leapt lightly onto the new stallion's back, and father and son rode out into the gathering winter dusk.

From over the pasture fence, Sadron watched them, nickering at Legolas in what sounded like reproach.  He ran along the fence, following them as far as he was able, and then stood looking after them.  Legolas grimaced.  "Poor old thing," he said.

Thranduil nodded sympathetically.  "Mortal creatures can break one's heart sometimes," he said, "but he will be well cared for, you know."

"I know," Legolas agreed.  "But I still cannot help feeling sorry for him."

Then they settled down to ride.  They did not go far, but even in the short distance they covered, Legolas could tell that the stallion seemed to sail effortlessly over the ground, even when he urged it into a gallop. He all but flew along the trails, and even Thranduil's great horse was hard put to keep up.

They returned to the stable as darkness was settling in, and they each picked up a twist of straw to clean the horses' coats of the mud and snow they had accumulated.  "Have you two decided what to name him?" Thranduil asked.

Legolas nodded.  "He and I have agreed that he is to be called Pilin," Legolas said, giving the ancient Quenya word for "arrow."  "He flies straight and true.  The name suits him."

"And it is a good name for a horse that you ride," Thranduil agreed, "given the fine archer you are becoming.  He should carry you well even into your first patrols as a warrior."

Legolas turned to look at his father and found him looking fondly back. "Thank you, Adar," he said.

"You are welcome, iôn-nín," Thranduil answered simply. "I am proud not only of your skills but also of your growing sense of responsibility, and I wanted to show it, even if your begetting day is not until May."

As they left the stable, Sadron poked his head out of his stall and whinnied softly at Legolas.  Legolas paused for a moment to caress him.  "Adar," he began hesitantly, "would you mind if I kept Pilin in the warriors' stables instead of here?  He would be closer when I needed him for a novice exercise, and I think it would be easier on Sadron if he did not see me taking Pilin out to ride."

Thranduil put a hand on his shoulder.   "Of course," he said.  "The decision is yours, and I think that what you are proposing is kind."  Legolas gave Sadron one last pat, and then he and his father went home to evening meal, contented with one another.

***

Legolas walked quickly along the path toward Miriwen's cottage.  The night had turned bitterly cold, and he was looking forward to the warmth of her mother's kitchen.  Her father appeared at the door carrying the sleepy baby and led him into the kitchen, where Miriwen and her mother had the table covered with fabric that they were cutting into pieces to be sewn together into a gown. "Hello, Legolas," said her mother.  "We have not seen you for a while."

"It has been three weeks," Legolas agreed, "but Miriwen was busy on any night that I had free."  Her mother glanced over at Miriwen, who was concentrating on the cut she was making and did not look up.

Having finished the cut, she straightened up and smiled at him.  "Sit down," she said, "and I will get you some hot cider."  He took the chair near the fireplace from which he could watch her and her mother at work and admire the way her hair gleamed in the firelight.  Her father took the rocking chair opposite him and began to soothe the baby into sleep.

"You will never guess what happened today," he began happily and started to tell them about his father's gift. Miriwen's father was very interested in the stallion, and Legolas soon found himself deep in a pleasant discussion of the strengths and faults of the various horses owned by their mutual acquaintances. When at last he looked up, he realized that it was late. Miri and her mother had finished their task and put the sewing supplies away, and Miri was stifling a yawn.

"I am sorry," he exclaimed. "I should not be keeping you up when you have been working such long hours.  Belówen should be more thoughtful. After all, you are probably still not fully recovered from the spider bite."

Miri blushed. "I am well," she protested, "but I am tired."  Legolas saw her parents exchanging a glance that he thought probably meant they were not as sure as their daughter was that she was well.

He rose immediately, said good night, and started for the door with Miri following him.  She stood in the doorway, hugging herself against the cold.  "I will not come out, Legolas," she said.  "It is so cold."

He was disappointed, but he settled for a quick kiss on her forehead.  "Good night," he said and turned away.

"Legolas," she called, and he turned back inquiringly.  "Never mind," she said. "I will tell you the next time I see you." And she withdrew and closed the door.

***

"Eilian," said Siondel, "one of our patrols just escorted Beam from Esgaroth into the warriors' courtyard.  They apparently picked him up from a Border Patrol at the edge of our territory."

Eilian looked up from the sword he was sharpening.  "He was by himself?" he asked, and Siondel nodded in reply. Eilian rose from the bench in the Home Guard's headquarters and followed his lieutenant out into the courtyard.  Beam was just dismounting, and he and Eilian clasped one another's forearms in a warriors' greeting of mutual respect.

Eilian led him inside out of the icy afternoon and offered him warmed wine, which Beam readily accepted.  "It was a cold ride," he admitted.

"You took a chance traveling by yourself," observed Eilian.  "The woods are dangerous."

Beam nodded.  "I know," he said, "but I wanted to make the trip in secret if I could, and it is easier for one man to pass unnoticed."

Eilian raised his eyebrows.  "Unnoticed by whom?" he asked.

"By the Easterlings," said Beam, looking at him squarely. "They have sent someone to talk to the city council at Esgaroth.  I fear that this will mean trouble, Eilian."

Eilian sat very still for a moment and finally said, "I think that whatever you have to say needs to be said in the presence of my adar and my older brother." He rose and placed his cup of wine on the table.  "Come," he said and led Beam out into the pale afternoon sun.  He called a warrior to him and sent a message to Ithilden, and then he started toward the palace.

When Eilian led Beam through the doors into the Great Hall, he saw that Thranduil was still hearing petitions, although he had hoped that his father might be finished for the day by now. He waited near the doorway until Thranduil looked up, saw them, and beckoned them forward.  He dropped to one knee about ten feet from Thranduil's chair and, from the corner of his eye, saw Beam imitating his movement.  The king motioned them to their feet.

"We welcome you to the Woodland Realm," he told Beam and then raised an inquiring eyebrow at Eilian.

"We need to speak to you and Ithilden in private, my lord," Eilian told him. "I have already sent a message to my brother."

To Eilian's satisfaction, Thranduil did not hesitate.  "Very well," he agreed and signaled to one of his advisors to take over hearing petitions while he led Eilian and Beam into a small room off the back of the Great Hall where he usually held meetings requiring more privacy than could be obtained by sending courtiers to the other end of the Great Hall.  The room was nearly filled by a table surrounded by chairs, and Thranduil took the large chair at the table's end and waved them into seats.  The king barely had time to make polite inquiries after the health of Beam's father before Ithilden arrived.  He, too, greeted Beam, who was plainly growing impatient to tell his story. Finally, Thranduil turned to him.  "You have something to tell us?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord," Beam began. "A week ago tomorrow, an Easterling rode into Esgaroth and asked to speak to the master and the trade council.  He had broken none of our laws and, although we watched him, we left him free and allowed him to speak."  He drew a deep breath.  "He said that his master wished for the use of our port and the right to engage in free travel up and down the lake.  When we asked his master's name, he would not give it but said only that it was a name we would know."

The three Elves drew in their breaths sharply. "Sauron," said Thranduil

Beam nodded. "We believe so.  The messenger also said that his master would be glad to send some of his troops to guard Esgaroth." Beam's voice turned bitter, "He said that his master's troops would be much better able to protect us from danger he was sure was coming. I do not believe there is any doubt that he was threatening us and that the danger will come from Sauron if we refuse his offer."

"Surely they could not attack you," Ithliden declared. "They have no army within at least 200 miles."

"I do not think they will send an army," Beam agreed, "but they could harass us and make our lives much more dangerous."

There was a pause.  "What did your council tell him?" Thranduil asked.

"We told him 'no,'" Beam responded simply, "but I do not believe that he will take that answer easily, and we may need the support of the Woodland Realm."  He looked at Thranduil, who looked back impassively.

"What kind of support?" the king asked evenly.

"A sign of friendship," said Beam, "a declaration that those who attack us will be your enemies."

"The creatures of Sauron are already our enemies," said Thranduil.

"We would like the Easterlings to believe that if they attack us, even singly, the warriors of the Woodland Realm will hunt them, just as we do," Beam answered. "We want them to know that you would never permit them to take control of the Long Lake."

There was a long pause.  Eilian tried to read his father's face but could not.  Finally, Thranduil said, "We would certainly hunt them if they came into the Realm, but I will not send our warriors beyond our borders.  We cannot spare them."

"Even if Sauron tries to seize control of the lake?" Beam asked.

Thranduil rose, drawing the rest of them to their feet too.  "You may tell your council that if these Men harm your citizens, we will take them as our enemies," he said.  "If your situation worsens, we will consider other actions."  Beam looked as if he would press further, but then he changed his mind and closed his mouth. Eilian though that was wise.  Beam had gotten as much from Thranduil as he was going to get today.

Thranduil started toward the door and then turned.  "Will you take evening meal with us tonight?" he asked.

"I would be honored," Beam answered with a small bow.

"Good," said Thrandiul.  "Eilian will escort you until then." And he left the room.

Eilian, Ithilden, and Beam all looked at one another. "You did well," Eilian murmured, and the corner of Ithilden's mouth quirked. Beam looked from one to the other.

"I will try to believe that," he said.  They laughed and then went out into the winter afternoon.

***

"He is incredibly beautiful," Legolas said, enthusiastically, "and he is so fast that even my adar's horse had trouble keeping up with him."  The four youngest novices were enjoying a brief break in their afternoon's training, and Legolas and Annael had both begun to praise Legolas's new horse again.

"Is that so?" said Galelas.  "I, for one, am already tired of hearing about this wonder-horse.  How would you feel about a little race to demonstrate just how fast he is?"

Legolas turned to him.  "You and I?" he asked.

"Oh, no," Annael protested. "If you and Galelas are going to race, we all should be able to join in the fun."

"We could use the horse training circuit," said Galelas, "and race after we are finished today.  I do not want to have to put up with hearing about this new horse for a day longer than I have to."

Legolas hesitated.  He had ridden Pilin only three times, and he had not yet tried jumping him over obstacles. The horse training course had several demanding jumps, and he was running a risk by trying to take Pilin over them for the first time during a race.  But Galelas was not going to let this rest. That meant, he decided, that there was no time like the present to show Galelas and the other novices exactly how swift Pilin was. "Very well," he said.  "Let us race tonight. Who should officiate?"

They looked at one another and simultaneously broke into grins.  "Tonduil," they chorused.

"We will have to be sure to catch him before he leaves for home," said Isendir practically.

At that moment, Thelion called them back to the field to resume training against the scimitar, but they were all buzzing with excitement.   A race would be an exciting reward at the end of a long day of work.

***

Eilian led Beam toward the horse training circuit where he could see that a small crowd had gathered.  Most of the masters and older novices were there, and he saw Ithilden standing unobtrusively to one side.  He halted next to his brother who nodded at him and Beam.  "So there is going to be a race," Eilian said happily, eyeing the four novices who were leading their horses to the start of the circuit.  Ithilden nodded.

"Thelion found out about their plans and asked me if I would allow it," he said.  "I trust that none of them will break their necks."

"They all ride like they were born on horseback," Eilian protested.

Ithilden cringed slightly.  "Alfirin would not thank you for that image right now," he said dryly.

Eilian laughed.  "My silver dagger against your new bow that the brat will win," he offered.

Ithilden shook his head vigorously. "No bet," he said.  "Find another dupe."

Eilian glanced briefly to his right where Siondel stood in a group of warriors with his eyes on Annael and decided that wagering with his own lieutenant was not a good idea.  Besides, judging from the laughing reaction of the group, Siondel was already engaged in laying a wager with Thelion.  He turned momentarily to Beam, who raised his hands in protest.

"My father always told me never to wager with Elves," he said laughingly. "Elves have forever to recover their losses, and they enjoy themselves whether they win or lose. Men are not so lucky."

Eilian resigned himself to watching a race for once without wagering on it.  He turned back to where Tonduil was lining up the now mounted racers.  The training circuit started near the warriors' stables and made a gentle sweep along level ground before veering into the woods, following a winding path between the trees, and then emerging into the open again.  Jumps of varying difficulty levels were placed along the way.  The watchers here would not be able to see what was happening in the woods, but they would have a good view of the finish line.

Tonduil raised his arm.  "Ready?" he asked.  "Go!"  The four horses that had been tensed at the starting line now sprang eagerly into motion to an accompanying cheer from those watching.  Eilian could see Legolas bent low on the new stallion's neck and, judging from the movement of the horse's ears, he was speaking to it, probably urging it forward.  The four riders swept over the first part of the track in a tight bunch, all of them easily clearing the log barrier that was three-quarters of the way along.

Eilian let out a breath that he had not realized he was holding.  Legolas had been saying just the previous evening that he had not yet had a chance to try riding Pilin over jumps, and not all horses were willing to take to the air, even for Elven riders.  In a flurry of pounding hooves and flying manes, the horses disappeared into the trees.

Eilian turned to Ithilden. "Could you see who was ahead?" he asked urgently.

"I think it was Legolas," Ithilden answered, "but not by much. He and Galelas were neck and neck.  That grey horse of his is very fast on level ground."

Eilian shook his head.  "He will never keep up in the long run," he predicted.  "Galelas is heavy, and I have seen that horse have trouble when it has to maneuver quickly among the trees."

They could now hear distant cheers from Elves perched in trees watching the wooded part of the track, and they strained their ears, trying to make out what names the watchers might be calling.  The noise moved closer and closer to them, and then the riders burst out of the trees, and this time, there was no doubt.  Legolas was in the lead, but Annael was on his right flank, using heels and voice to urge his long-legged black stallion forward. As Eilian had predicted, Galelas had dropped back and was trailing even Isendir, whose agile mount was now moving up quickly.

"Come on!" Eilian shouted, and he could hear Ithilden and even Beam shouting too.

Accompanied by cheers from the watching Elves, the racers sped toward them and then past them, and Tonduil raised his arms.  "Legolas, by a nose," he shouted.  Then he added, "The horse's nose, of course, not his."  The Elves around him laughed and then immediately began exchanging whatever items had been wagered and lost.

"I will see you at home," Ithilden said, with a satisfied look, and slipped away. Eilian could see the novice masters doing the same thing.  He knew that they did not want to be too obvious in congratulating Legolas, but he had no such scruples.  He surged forward to speak to his little brother, only pausing for a moment next to the disgruntled-looking Galelas.

"Good ride," he said truthfully.  "You managed to get the best that horse has to offer out of him, I think."

"Thank you," said Galelas rather stiffly, but he did look somewhat mollified.  He stroked the sweaty neck of his horse and then led it away toward the stables to be rubbed down.

Trailed by Beam, Eilian now strode to where Legolas stood.  He had been thumped on the back by other novices, but they were now beginning to move away, for it was growing late. Eilian could see Siondel walking toward the stables with Annael, his hand on his son's shoulder.  "Nice race, brat!" he cried.  "How did the horse do on the jumps?"

Legolas grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "He sailed over them like he was flying," he crowed.

Eilian grinned back at him.  "Adar does know how to choose horses," he said.  Legolas's eyes had gone past him to take in Beam, and Eilian introduced them.

Legolas extended his hand, courteously using the human manner of greeting.  "We have met before," he said.  "You came with the Esgaroth Master in September."

"Beam will be taking evening meal with us," Eilian told him. "Speaking of which, we should be going.  Take care of your horse and hurry home or you will be late."

Legolas nodded and led Pilin off toward the stables.  The excitement of the race still flowed through him. Sometimes life was almost unbearably good.

***

Legolas hurried into the family dining room where everyone else was already seated.  He had gotten home and bathed and changed as quickly as he could, but he was still not on time.  "I am sorry, Adar," he apologized and then slid into his place.  Thranduil regarded him coolly.

"I understand that you are late because you chose to engage in a race," he said.

"Yes, Adar," Legolas admitted.

There was a moment's silence.  "Who won?" asked Thranduil.

Legolas felt his face dissolve into a grin.  "I did," he said.  His father's eyes gleamed in response, but he said nothing more and sedately set about drawing their guest into a conversation about how trade was faring in Esgaroth.  In the past year, Legolas had grown increasingly aware that such talk from Thranduil was not a matter of innocent politeness.  His father was learning what he could about matters that could affect the Woodland Realm.  But Legolas found Beam's conversation interesting for its own sake.

"Do you really trade with the dwarves?" he asked curiously.  And when Beam nodded, he asked, "What are they like?"

Beam considered.  "Hard-working," he said, "brave, stubborn, suspicious. It is not easy to get the better of a dwarf in a trade."  He shrugged. "They are like most other people, I suppose, a mix of good and bad."

From the corner of his eye, Legolas could see his father's hand tighten on his cup of wine.  Legolas had heard Thranduil talk often enough of the betrayal of the dwarves at Doriath.  He did not believe that his father would harm a dwarf who had done him no evil, but he also knew that Thranduil had no particular wish to associate with Aule's children.  The conversation swept on to speculate about when the ice would break up on the lake, and ships would be able to navigate it again.  Legolas was not scheduled to visit Miriwen this evening because, once again, she was too busy to see him.  He regretted that, but he was happy enough to sit with his family and their guest and talk about the world they shared.

***

Legolas dreamed that he was floating down a river in a small boat.  He had never realized that the Forest River was so wide, he thought in some surprise.  A figure was huddled in the prow of the boat, and he thought at first that it was some sort of animal.  Suddenly he realized that it was a dwarf!  How funny, he thought, amused by the unlikely sight.  Then he turned into another path and once again rode Pilin through the training circuit, flying through the winter chill.

11. Love

 (March)

Legolas hurried toward home through the early spring twilight.  Today was the equinox, and that meant that there would be feasting in his father's Great Hall with singing and dancing to follow.  Indeed, Elves would already be gathering there.  Legolas was looking forward to the evening, he thought.  He would have to dress formally and sit with his family during the meal, but afterwards, he would be free to sit with his friends and dance with Miriwen.  He had not seen her in two, no three, weeks, and he had missed her.  Tonight they would catch up with one another's lives, he promised himself happily.

Suddenly a figure emerged from the shadows near the path, and Legolas instinctively reached for the sword on his belt, but then, almost immediately, recognized the figure as Falad.  What did he want? Legolas wondered, with instant hostility, and then stopped to wait for Falad to speak.

Falad stood silently for a moment, as if hesitant to begin.  "Good evening," he said awkwardly.

"Good evening," Legolas responded impatiently.  "I am late and need to get home, Falad.  Is there something you wanted?"

Falad drew a deep breath. "Why have you not come to see Miriwen?" he finally blurted out.

Legolas frowned.  "What business is that of yours?" he demanded irritably.

"It is my business because Miriwen is unhappy," Falad responded sharply.  "I know that she does not like me in the way that I want her to," he went on with stiff resolve, "but she does like you.  And I have decided that what is most important to me is that she should be happy.  So I want to know why you have neglected her.  You are so lucky to have her, and you have no right to treat her as you have been doing."

Legolas spoke as if addressing a slow-witted child. "I have not been to see her because she has had to spend many evenings training.  Surely you noticed that she was standing next to you in the infirmary?"

Falad snorted.  "We have spent one evening in the infirmary in the last month.  You cannot use that as an excuse."

Legolas stared at him, feeling as if all the breath had been knocked out of him.  "One?" he asked.

"Yes, one," Falad retorted.  "She sits home alone, presumably waiting for you.  If you have decided that you do not want to see her anymore, the least you could do would be to tell her.  What you are doing is neither kind nor honest."

Legolas stood in silence; indeed he did not think he could have answered, even if he had been able to think of a coherent answer to make.  "I will speak to her," he finally managed to choke out.  Falad nodded with his mouth grimly set, and then, without another word, he turned and disappeared down the path.

Legolas felt rooted to the spot.  Only with great effort was he able to pick up his heavy feet and begin to move toward home.  He took a few slow steps and then unexpectedly began to run.  By the time he reached the Great Hall, he was breathing heavily.  He knew that he should wait, should bathe and change and regain his composure before he entered the Hall, but he could not make himself do it.  He burst through the doors and then stood for a moment with his heart beating wildly while he searched the room.

The Hall was already crowded with Elves in elegant dress exchanging greetings and sipping from cups of Thranduil's excellent wine.  He could see his father talking to one of his advisors near the high table that had been set up at the far of the room. Ithilden and Alfirin were already seated at the table, for with the baby's birth only a month away, Alfirin was finding it increasingly difficult to stand for long periods of time.  He saw Thranduil turn, catch sight of him, and frown, probably because he was still dressed in the clothes he had worn for training that day, but just then he spotted Miriwen and her family seating themselves at one of the long tables that ran down the side of the room.  With only a second's hesitation, he strode toward them.

"Miriwen," he said, his voice sounding strained even to himself, "may I speak to you?"

She looked up, her face pale, evidently reading some truth from his face and his voice.  For a moment, he thought she was going to make some excuse, but then her mother prodded her.  "You need to talk to Legolas, Miriwen," she said. "Then if you do not want to stay for the feast, you do not have to."  Miriwen bit her lip and then stood and moved with Legolas to one edge of the room where they were unlikely to be much noticed.

He was too intent on learning what he wanted to know to be subtle, so he simply blurted out the questions that had burned in his throat since he had left Falad.  "Have you been avoiding me, Miri?" he asked. "Have you been telling me that you were working when you were not?"

She looked as if she were going to cry.  "I am so sorry," she breathed.  "I tried to tell you but I just could not."

"Tried to tell me what?" he demanded.  "Tell me now."

"You have been very special to me," she began, but he would not let her finish.

"Have been?" he demanded. "Meaning that I no longer am."  His voice was beginning to grow bitter.  "Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong," she said, and now a tear did slide down one cheek.

"Then," he said slowly, "there is someone else, but not Falad."

"There is no one who has feelings for me," she managed to get out with misery in every syllable, "but there is someone whom I have feelings for."

"Who?" he demanded.

"I will not tell you," she declared.  At that moment, Legolas heard Eilian's cheerful laugh coming from somewhere behind him.  Miriwen's eyes involuntarily flickered toward the source of the sound, and the naked longing on her face sent unwelcome knowledge flaring suddenly into being.

"Eilian?" he cried, and she shrank away from his ferocity.  A red haze settled over his vision, and he whirled and started toward his brother.  Miriwen caught fruitlessly at this sleeve and would have come after him, but her mother appeared suddenly and caught at her daughter's shoulders.

"Let him be, child," Legolas could hear her saying soothingly.  "You cannot help him. You can only make things worse."

Eilian was just parting from a friend and starting toward the high table.  He frowned at Legolas.  "You had better go and get dressed, brat," he started, and then stopped, apparently taken aback by the look on Legolas's face.

"What did you do to Miriwen?" Legolas hissed at him.

"What do you mean?" asked Eilian cautiously.

"Did you flirt with her?  Did you let her think that you could be serious about any maiden?" Legolas spat, not caring whether his words wounded his brother or not.  From the corner of his eye, he could see curious faces beginning to turn toward them.

Eilian flushed.  "Of course I did not flirt with her," he murmured, keeping his voice low and his face as impassive as he could, given the color that had flooded it.

"Were you breathing?" Legolas demanded as insolently as possible.  "Then you were flirting."

"Do not be ridiculous," Eilian protested, his voice emphatic but still low. "I would never do such a thing to you.  Besides, she is a child. What do you take me for?"

Blood roared in Legolas's ears.  He and Miriwen were the same age, and he definitely did not feel childlike at the moment.  He took a step toward his brother and suddenly felt a strong hand grip his upper arm.  "Cease this unseemly behavior at once," snapped Thranduil in a voice pitched to reach only his squabbling sons.  "Remember where you are."

They both turned to look at him.  His face would have seemed expressionless to most observers, but Legolas could see the anger blazing in his eyes.  Airing family problems in public was forbidden.  He knew that, but he was so angry that he did not care.  "Adar," he began, but Thranduil interrupted.

"Not now," he said through clenched teeth.   "Go to your chamber and stay there until I am through here and come to talk to you."

Legolas was outraged.  "And what about Eilian?" he demanded.  "Does he just go ahead and spend the evening feasting and dancing with Miri?"

Thranduil blinked at him and then glanced at Eilian, who shook his head slightly.  "I swear not," he said.

Thranduil turned back to him.  "Do as I tell you, Legolas," he said, more gently.  "We will talk about this later."  He released Legolas's arm and stood waiting to be obeyed.  With a final inchoate cry, Legolas whirled and stormed from the room, ignoring the inquisitive looks his progress drew.  Outside the Great Hall, he paused.  His fury at Eilian had now been extended to his father as well.  If Thranduil cared more about the family's public image than he did about Legolas's feelings, then his father was as bad as his brother.  He did not think he could bear being in the presence of either one of them, and the idea of going docilely to his chamber made him ill.  He needed time away, he decided. He needed the woods.  And instead of going toward the royal family's private quarters, he turned in the other direction and left the palace.

***

Eilian knocked again on Legolas's door.  "Come on, Legolas," he coaxed through the door. "Let me in."  When there was still no answer, he put his hand on the latch and opened the door anyway.  A quick glance around the room told him why his brother had not answered the knock: He was not in the room.  Eilian felt a twinge of apprehension and moved to look through the open door of the bathing chamber.  Legolas was not here.

He stood in the middle of the room and tried to decide what to do.  He had been unable to enjoy the feast, thinking about his unhappy younger brother alone in his room.  He knew that Thranduil would not be able to leave the Great Hall, but he had been struck by a memory from his own youth, of an evening when Thranduil had banished him to his room for some reason and his mother had left a feast to come and talk to him.  She had listened to his troubles and then hugged him. She had also stayed in the room and interceded when Thranduil finally arrived.  He smiled wistfully.  Lorellin had always known how to help him sort out the emotional confusion that had been his daily lot when he was Legolas's age.  She would never have left the brat by himself for the whole evening when he was so obviously in pain.

He wondered if he should tell Thranduil that Legolas was not here.  He did not think that his little brother would go far, probably only to the stables or more likely the woods.  The latter thought gave him pause, but he himself had seen to it that the Home Guard was scouring the nearby areas of the woods thoroughly.  He concluded that Legolas was probably not in immediate danger and decided to wait until after the feast.  His father was not going to be happy that his son had disobeyed him after staging a scene in the Great Hall.

What a fool Legolas was not to have just done what Thranduil told him to do, he thought.  It had been evident to Eilian that Thranduil felt enough sympathy for whatever pain Legolas was in that his anger over the public scene would have soon blown over. But Eilian was close enough to Legolas in age to remember how hard it was to always do the sensible thing.  Indeed, he still had trouble doing it sometimes, he thought wryly. He would hold his tongue.  Perhaps Legolas would turn up again before the feast was over.

***

Siondel opened the cottage door to find Legolas on the step.  "I am sorry to call so late," he said apologetically.  "But may I talk to Annael?"  His voice was strained and his face set in lines of distress.  Siondel hesitated but then responded like the father he was.

"Of course," he said. "Come in."  Legolas edged into the little hallway, and Siondel returned to the sitting room where he and his family had gone when they returned from the feast.  Annael had just been gathering up his cloak and gloves to go to his own chamber.  "Legolas is here," Siondel told him.  Annael raised his eyebrows and then went out into the hall.

Siondel could hear Legolas murmuring something and then Annael making a low answer. "I cannot," cried Legolas.

Annael appeared in the sitting room doorway.  "May Legolas spend the night?" he asked.

Siondel looked past his son to where Legolas lingered in the darkened hall. "Do they know where you are at the palace, Legolas?" he asked in a neutral voice.  There was obviously trouble here, and Siondel had no intention of contributing to it or being caught in it.

Legolas hesitated. "I will send a note," he said carefully.

Siondel nodded.  "Very well," he said.  "I can take it for you. I have to go and check on the guards in about half an hour anyway."   The two friends withdrew to Annael's chamber, and Annael soon returned with the note.  Siondel pulled his cloak around him, preparatory to going to the palace and then paused in the hallway.  From Annael's room, he could hear Legolas's agitated voice and Annael's sympathetic tones, although he could not hear what they were saying and did not really want to eavesdrop.  He shook his head. Thranduil's youngest son was distressed about something, and while he would allow the youth to stay the night, he would send him home tomorrow.  The king was unlikely to welcome outsiders interfering in his family's affairs.

***

"What do you mean he is not in his chamber?" Thranduil demanded.

Eilian flinched at his father's tone.  He had approached the king as he left the feast, having checked on Legolas's empty room several times during the evening.  Legolas was still not back from wherever he had gone. They were now in his father's office, and Thranduil was looking incredulous at what Eilian was telling him.  "The guards say he went out when he left the Great Hall," Eilian responded.

Thranduil stared at him, color beginning to rise from his neck into his face. "Where?" he demanded.

"He did not leave word," Eilian said, unhappily.

A servant tapped on the door and entered carrying a note, which he offered to the king.  Thranduil scanned it quickly, and relief flitted momentarily across his face before anger returned.  He looked up to stop the servant who was quietly withdrawing.  "Who brought this note?" he demanded sharply.

"I will find out," said the servant and hurried from the room.

Thranduil looked at Eilian.  "The impudent elfling sends me less than a score of words.  He does not, however, tell me where he is."  He thrust the note at Eilian and then began to pace the room.

Eilian read: "Adar, I am all right. You do not have to bother worrying about me.  Legolas."  Even in the face of Thranduil's fury, Eilian could not help admiring Legolas's audacity.  Nothing placating for him!  Just a statement that he was fine, a rude assertion that Thranduil should not worry, and the suggestion that such worrying would be a bother to him.  No wonder his father was spitting fire.

The servant returned, eyeing Thranduil cautiously. "My lord," he said, "the guards say that Siondel brought the note." Thranduil waved at him imperiously, and he fled from the room.  "He must be at Annael's," Thranduil said.  "Go and get him."

Eilian grimaced. "I may not be the best person to send after him," he said.  "He is quite angry at me. And anyway, are you sure you want the furor that would cause?  He is safe enough with Siondel, and he will almost certainly come home tomorrow, even if you just leave him."

Thranduil frowned and then sat down in the chair behind his desk and waved Eilian into the one in front of it.  "You are right," he said, with an obvious effort at control.  He looked at Eilian.  "What is this about?" he asked.  "I gather it has something to do with Miriwen."

"She has evidently broken if off with him," said Eilian unhappily, "and he seems to think that I had something to do with it."

"Did you?" asked Thranduil.

Eilian sighed.  "Not deliberately," he said, running his hands over his face, "but it is possible that she misunderstood my behavior.  She is very young," he added, by way of defending himself.

Thranduil grimaced but said nothing.  After a pause, he said, "He has training tomorrow, I assume?"  Eilian nodded.  "Then he will probably borrow what he needs from Annael and come home in the evening.  Tell the guards to send him to me as soon as he shows up."

Eilian rose.  "Very well," he said and left the room, feeling intensely sorry for Legolas and intensely glad that he was no longer so terribly young.

***

Legolas lay awake on the pallet on the floor of Annael's room. The sound of even breathing from the bed told him that his friend was asleep.  Annael had listened patiently and responded sympathetically for as long as he could keep awake but had eventually slipped away into the path of elven dreams, leaving Legolas still awake and agitated.

He stared into the darkness and thought about Miriwen. He mourned the loss of someone to talk to about the intimate thoughts that he did not seem able to tell to Annael.  He knew that his family loved him, but they also constantly urged him to be better, more responsible, and more self-controlled, while Miriwen had seemed to accept him and value him as he was.  And in her, he had tentatively explored the mystery of femininity.  He thought of the taste of her mouth and skin, and the warmth and softness of her body pressed against his.  He groaned, turned over, and forced his mind onto other considerations.

His grievances rose before him.  How could Eilian have betrayed him so?  How could his father have been so indifferent to his wrong?  In anger, he found an easing of pain and toward dawn, he slipped into an uneasy doze from which he awoke when light first slipped in through the window.  In the brief time of sleep, his anger had faded, and now he found himself remembering Miriwen's admission that Eilian did not return her feelings for him.  Of course, he thought resentfully, the damage done between him and Miri was not made less by the fact that Eilian often flirted without meaning anything by it.  In his mind's eye, he saw Eilian flinch at Legolas's accusation that he was incapable of being serious about a maiden.  He felt a momentary pang of guilt that he tried but failed to push aside. It was possible, he had to admit, that Eilian had not sought Miriwen's affections.

Just how angry was his father? he wondered.  He briefly recalled the softening of Thranduil's tone in the Great Hall when he had realized why Legolas was upset, and then he imagined Thranduil's reaction to his absence overnight and to the message he had sent.  If his father had not been angry before the message came, he most certainly would have been afterwards.  Unfortunately, there was no going back and changing his actions now, he concluded despairingly.  He would have to struggle through this day and then go home and try to set things right again at least with his family even though Miri might now be permanently beyond his reach.  When Annael finally woke, Legolas borrowed clean clothes, politely refused the breakfast his friend's mother offered, and trudged off to the training fields.

Today, they were working with Penntalion, the archery master, which, for Legolas, would ordinarily have meant that the day would be a good one.   They were practicing shooting while running through cover, so they had to think about both seeking good cover and the difficult task of drawing and aiming accurately while on the move.  Legolas found himself going through the drill in a fog of misery and came to the end not knowing even how well he had done, for his mind had been either on the loss of Miriwen or on his tense relationships with his father and brother.

Penntalion called the little group back to him.  "Remember," he admonished, "you are going to have to set yourself momentarily, but you want that moment to be as brief as possible. You are all still taking too long.  We will do it again."  He scanned them. "Legolas," he said, "I wish to speak to you.  You others go and retrieve the arrows."

Legolas kept his eyes on the ground as Annael, Isendir, and Galelas trotted off to find the spent arrows.  Penntalion waited until they were out of earshot.  Then he asked, "Is something wrong, Legolas?"

Legolas shook his head.  "No, nothing is wrong," he asserted without raising his eyes.

"I ask," said Penntalion patiently, "because that is the worst performance I have ever seen you give on the training fields."

Legolas could feel the color rising to his face. "I will do better this time," he promised.  He raised his eyes to meet Penntalion's bright, quizzical gaze.  "I will do better," he repeated more firmly.  Penntalion looked at him for a moment longer and then nodded and turned to the approaching others and began to set up the drill again.  Ashamed of his inattention, Legolas forced himself to concentrate and found that, with effort, he could put his troubles out of his mind and do his work well enough.  His performance for the rest of the day was far from the best he had ever given, but at least it was good enough to draw no further inquiry from the archery master.  Moreover, concentrating on his work actually made him feel a little better.  He would make it through this day with grace, he resolved, and through whatever the evening brought too.

***

Ithilden leaned against the tree and watched Penntalion demonstrating something to do with shooting while moving to the youngest group of novices.  They all appeared to be listening attentively, including Legolas, who was fingering his own bow, in imitation of the archery master.

Ithilden had found that he looked at Legolas differently, now that his own son was about to be born.  He was considerably older than either of his two brothers, who were only sixty years apart.  The large age gap had inevitably meant that he had sometimes felt parental toward both of them, especially when they were elflings. He had gradually come to accept Eilian as an adult, but he still felt intensely protective of Legolas, and he knew that Alfirin felt the same way about Tonduil.  Now that their son was soon to be born, they both looked at their younger brothers and wondered if their child would be like one of his young uncles.

Ithilden suspected that Alfirin was hoping their son would be more like the gentle, straightforward Tonduil, who was, for the most part, happy, now that he had found work he enjoyed and was good at. But Ithilden thought that the child was more likely to resemble the sometimes difficult Legolas, for memories of his own youth told him that Legolas's occasionally unpredictable behavior stemmed from inexperience combined with the pressured position in which he lived, a position that his own son would share.  He had not told Alfirin, but he would be more than happy to have a son like his youngest brother, for he was proud of Legolas, not only for his growing skill as a warrior, but also for his idealism, his curious mind, and the loyalty he extended to his friends and evoked from them in turn.  He remembered his dream of the son who looked like Eilian and smiled wryly to himself.  Now there would be an interesting fate for him and Alfirin, he thought in some dismay.

Movement on the training field caught his eye and drew him from his reverie.  Penntalion had dismissed the novices, and Legolas and Annael had started toward him.  Ithilden could tell the exact moment when Legolas spotted him because he stopped and frowned, causing Annael to stop too.  Ithilden suppressed a smile.  It was not entirely unheard of for him to watch the novices (the training of future warriors was, after all, part of his responsibility), but it was not common either, and Legolas probably suspected that Ithilden's presence today was not accidental.  Legolas and Annael conferred briefly, and then Annael trotted off in a different direction while Legolas approached.  Ithilden straightened up and stepped onto the path by his youngest brother's side.

Legolas shot him an irritated glance. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I am walking home with you," Ithilden replied.

"Did Adar send you?  I can get from the training fields to the palace by myself," said Legolas in some disgust.

"One might think you could get from the Great Hall to your chamber by yourself too," Ithilden replied rather waspishly.

Legolas flinched slightly.  After a moment, he asked, "Is Adar angry?"

"Not so angry as he was last night," Ithilden said grimly.  He had no intention of being drawn into whatever was going on between Legolas, Eilian, and their father, but if Legolas had been his son, he thought he would want to be sure that he regretted his behavior.  Legolas knew better than to air family differences in public, to defy his father's bidding, or to write the insolent note that Eilian had quoted to Ithilden this morning as they walked toward the practice fields.  His youngest brother had let personal hurt lead him into doing what he knew he should not, and Thranduil was unlikely to ignore that.  Ithilden wondered if he would be like his own father in dealing with his children.  Over the years, he had gradually come to think that that would not be a bad thing.

At the door of the family's private quarters, the guard told Legolas that Thranduil wished to see him in his office, and Ithilden waited until Legolas had knocked and been admitted to their father's presence before he went on to his and Alfirin's quarters.

He went through their sitting room into their sleeping chamber and found his wife seated at her dressing table clad only in a thin shift.  She was apparently getting ready for dinner, and her hair was loose from its normal braid, descending in wavy profusion down her back to her hips.  She turned toward him, her right arm still raised with her hairbrush in hand.

"You are home early," she said, with a pleased smile.

He advanced toward her, took the brush from her hand, and began to brush her hair.  "Adar asked me to walk home with Legolas after he was through with training for the day," he told her, marveling at the soft mass of dark hair into which the brush and his fingers sunk.

She made a face at him in the dressing table mirror.  "Poor Legolas," she said.  "I would not be that age again for anything."

He said nothing, concentrating on the pleasant task in which he was engaged.   How lucky he was, he thought.  He had believed that he was contented with his life, that his work gave him purpose and his father and brothers satisfied his need for love.  Then he had fallen in love with Alfirin and together they had made the baby.  His life now was immeasurably much richer than he would ever have believed possible.  What had he ever done to earn this? he wondered. Surely he did not deserve it, which meant that it was a pure gift. He stopped brushing, placed his trembling hands on the sides of her head, and bent toward her.  "You are so incredibly beautiful," he murmured into her fragrant hair.

She turned to bury her face in his tunic. "I am the size of an oliphaunt," she said.

"You are exquisite," he insisted. "You are perfect."  He was not sure what kind of father he would be, he thought, but one thing he was certain of:  His son would know beyond doubt that Ada loved Nana.

***

Legolas entered his father's office, closed the door carefully behind him, and walked to stand before Thranduil's desk, where his father looked up from the petitions he had been reading.   The king regarded him coolly for a moment.

"Would you like to explain why you left the palace last night?" he finally asked in deceptively pleasant voice.  Legolas grimaced.  The fact that his father kept him standing told him all he needed to know about his attitude toward Legolas's absence, no matter what tone he used to ask his question.

"I was upset and wanted to be in the forest," Legolas answered truthfully, knowing exactly what his father's reaction would be.

"I told you to go to your chamber," Thranduil replied sharply.  "Moreover, you and I agreed that when you went out at night, you would tell me where you were going, although in this case," he added, "that should not have been necessary since you should not have been out at all."

"I sent a message that I was safe," Legolas said defensively.

"That was not our agreement," Thranduil snapped.

Legolas bit his lip and was silent for a moment.  "I am sorry," he said finally.  "I was angry," he hesitated and then went on in a rush, "and I was hurt.  I was not thinking about anything beyond how I felt."

"That is not acceptable, Legolas," Thranduil insisted flatly.

Legolas dropped his eyes under Thranduil's angry gaze.  His father was not going to let this go, he thought unhappily.

There was a moment's silence and then Thranduil spoke again.  "I have sent the new horse to spend two weeks in the forest pastures," he said, naming the area where the king's horses were sometimes kept when they were injured or not needed.

Legolas's eyes immediately came up in dismay.  In his head, he heard again his father's words as he gave him the horse: "I am proud not only of your skills but also of your growing sense of responsibility, and I wanted to show it."  Thranduil could not have picked a more fitting or painful punishment, he thought forlornly.  He said nothing, but his appearance must have spoken for him. As he looked into his father's face, he saw it gradually soften.

"Sit down, Legolas," Thranduil sighed.  Numb with misery, Legolas settled into the chair in front of his father's desk.  "Tell me about what is wrong between you and Miriwen and Eilian," Thranduil invited with surprising gentleness.

Legolas hesitated for only a moment before the sting of being disciplined gave way to a desire for the comfort and love that his father now seemed to be offering.  How much should he tell? he wondered. How much would his father understand?  "She has broken with me because she is smitten with Eilian," he said bitterly. "I do not think he even deliberately tried to attract her, and she prefers him to me anyway.  I am sorry about quarreling with him in public last night," he added as an afterthought, "but, Adar, I cannot help but wish that it had been anyone but Eilian."  To his horror, he felt tears threatening, and he blinked furiously.

Thranduil rose to his feet immediately, causing Legolas too to rise, and came around the desk to embrace his son. Legolas stood stiffly for a moment and then gave in and allowed himself to be comforted.  Then Thranduil stepped back with his hands on Legolas's shoulders.

"I know that life is difficult for you right now," Thranduil said gently.  "Like your friends, you are trying to find your place as an adult, but unlike them, your actions are under more or less constant scrutiny.  Moreover, you have two older brothers to whom people compare you and to whom, perhaps, you compare yourself. They are experienced, self-assured, and accomplished and they are also your superior officers."  He smiled at Legolas wryly.  "I imagine that Annael has his share of problems," Thranduil said, "but I doubt that he would wish to change places with you."  Legolas smiled back at him rather shakily.  "I wish that I knew how to make this time easier for you," the king went on, "but I do not.  All I can do is promise you two things: the pain you feel now will ease, and you will grow into an adult I am proud of."

He drew his son close and Legolas desperately hoped that Thranduil was right and that his misery might eventually fade, although he could not yet imagine when that might happen.

Thranduil broke the embrace. "I am afraid there is one more thing, iôn-nín," he said.  Legolas looked at him apprehensively. "When Eilian comes home, I am going to send him to you.  I do not want to see either one of you again until you have sorted things out between you."

Legolas nodded in relief.  "I want to do that anyway," he said.

"Good," responded Thranduil.  "Remember that your brother loves you.  Also, you might recall that Eilian was in your place not so many years ago.  He may understand things in a way that I do not."

Legolas nodded, and taking his leave, went to his chamber, feeling better than he had thought would be possible when he entered the palace a short time ago.

***

"Come in," said Legolas in response to the knock on his door, and Eilian entered the room, looking worried.  He did not hesitate for a second but crossed the room and pulled Legolas out of his chair and into a firm hug.

"I am so sorry," he said, and as easily as that, all of Legolas's resentment and anger slipped away. "I would never deliberately hurt you like that," Eilian went on, "but I cannot deny that she may have misunderstood my actions."  He looked into his younger brother's face.  "Can you forgive me?" he asked.

"There is nothing to forgive," Legolas answered steadily, knowing that it was true.  "And I am sorry for what I said to you last night."

Eilian grimaced. "Do not worry about it," he shook his head.  "Are you all right?" he inquired.

"I am not yet, but I will be," Legolas vowed.

"Yes, you will," Eilian assured him.  "You are young yet, although I expect you do not like to be told that.  Much of life is new to you, but experience will teach you how to survive in your heart as well as on the battlefield."

"Will it teach me not to care about her anymore?" Legolas asked rather desperately.

"Yes," Eilian said sadly, "it will."  And he hugged him again.

12. Danger

(April)

Eyes closed, Legolas lay stretched on the grass in the spring sunshine, letting the laughing conversation of the other novices flow around him.  Their plans were laid and soon Lómilad and Maldor would come and give them permission to start their role in the spring novice exercises, this time as the attacking team. Legolas was letting his mind drift as he inhaled the scents of life returning to the woods and listened to the song of the birds.  By the time they returned, he reminded himself happily, his new stallion would be back in the warriors' stables.

"Where is Pilin?" Annael had asked the first time that the novices had been sent to clean the stables after the equinox feast.

"He is in my adar's forest pasture," Legolas had answered briefly.

"Why?" puzzled Isendir, who was right behind them.

"Because my adar sent him there," Legolas had said, tightlipped.

Enlightenment had dawned on Annael's face and Isendir has asked no more, so Legolas assumed the he, too, had reached some understanding of what Legolas meant. Either that, or he was intimidated by the mention of Thranduil.  His friends never pressed him on the topic of his father; they were nervous enough around Ithilden, well aware of the considerable control he had over their lives.

Today, Legolas intended to put his problems behind him and concentrate on serving his team well and enjoying the game.  He pulled his thoughts back to the present.  To his left, Annael was talking to Nálas.  Legolas had lost the thread of their conversation, but suddenly he heard Nálas laugh.  "You are dreaming if you think that she would ever look at you," he said in a teasing voice.

Legolas's eyes flew open, and he glanced at them, but Annael was making a laughing rejoinder. "Then I must have been dreaming steadily," he said.  "And in these dreams, I do not recall her ever looking at you at all."  Nálas snorted good-naturedly, and Legolas turned quickly away toward Tynd's voice on his right.

"I think that Calorfil had his eye on that little ravine southeast of here," Tynd was saying to Riolith, who was once again serving as his lieutenant, preparatory to captaining one of the groups himself next year when Tynd and Calorfil would have come of age and joined the ranks of the warriors.

"The top of one of those low cliffs would not be a bad spot for them," Riolith acknowledged.  "They could try to draw us down the valley or use the drop off to defend their backs. And it is right at the edge of the allowable territory, so it would take us a while to get to them.  How sure are you that that is where Calorfil is headed?"

Tynd grimaced.  "Not very," he admitted. "He could even have been deliberately trying to mislead me.  But think about it.  Let us watch their trail today.  If it looks as if that is where they are headed, we may be able to save ourselves some time by sending scouts directly to the ravine to see if they are there."

Legolas was interested in this.  "Do you mean the ravine with the stream in it?" he asked. 

"Yes," said Tynd.  "Calorfil and Amóng went camping there last winter. Or at least they said they did.  I think they may have been scouting it out as a site to defend."

"My adar once showed me a hidden trail that goes up one of the sides of that ravine," Legolas said.  "You cannot see it from the top because of the overhang."

Tynd and Riolith both looked at him.  "That could be useful," said Riolith.  "Could you find it?"

"I think so," Legolas answered.  Before they had a chance to pursue the matter further, Lómilad and Maldor emerged from the masters' hut.

"Here they come," Tynd said, and the group rose to its feet as the two masters approached.

"Is your group ready, Tynd?" Lómilad asked briskly.

"We are," Tynd replied.

"Then let us go," said the novice master.  "We will lead you for the first league, so you can pick up their trail. Then you are on your own."

"Get your gear," Tynd ordered his group.  "Sarar, you serve as rear guard."  They gathered up bows, packs, and armor and followed the masters into the woods.

To Legolas, their progress that day seemed slow. They tracked the defending team on the ground only to repeatedly lose them as they evidently took to the trees.  At that point, they would spread out and advance, searching for where the defenders came to ground again. By the end of the day, they still had seen no sign of their opponents other than the small marks they had left in the forest trail as they passed. They were, however, definitely heading southeast, and Legolas privately thought that the ravine Tynd had been talking about was as good a site as any in the direction they were going.

***

Ithilden awoke in the early dawn hours with a sense that something was wrong.  He reached for the dagger on the bedside table and then suddenly realized that what he had noticed was that Alfirin was not breathing quietly beside him in sleep.  Instead she was sitting propped up by pillows against the head of their bed, rubbing her hands across the swell of her pregnancy, and panting slightly.

"What is wrong?" he demanded, sitting up, instantly alarmed.

She turned to him with luminous dark eyes that looked huge in the pale oval of her face. She smiled tentatively. "I think, perhaps, the baby is coming," she said, and then drew in her breath sharply again.

Because a year had passed since they conceived their son, they had known that the birth was likely to be today, and Ithilden had rehearsed this moment in his mind for months now.  He was out of the bed, through their sitting room, and out into the hallway immediately.  "You," he called to the sleepy looking guard at the end of the hall, and it was a measure of his disorientation that he could not, for the moment, remember the guard's name.  "Go immediately to fetch my mother-in-law and the midwife."  He had time to see the guard's face light up with excitement before he ducked back into his apartments again.  The arrival of Thranduil's first grandchild had been the subject of great interest to many of the king's people, although Eilian had told him that the household guards were most interested because they had all staked wagers on the hour when the baby would arrive.

He returned to the bedroom to find his wife on her feet and pacing, with a shawl thrown over her shoulders.  "Should you be out of bed?" he asked anxiously.

"Do not fuss, my love," she said.  "I feel better this way."  Then she stopped, gasping, with her arms wrapped around her abdomen.  He moved forward to put a supporting arm around her shoulders, smothering the impulse to let loose with all the Dwarvish curse words in the considerable vocabulary he had built up in his centuries as a warrior.

Deliberately he calmed himself, for he would be of no use to Alfirin if he were not in control of his own emotions.  "Lean on me, love," he murmured gently, with his arm still around her.  "Let me help you."  She laid her head back on his shoulder and he could feel his mind and body coming into harmony with hers.  When the next contraction came, he let his own strength flow toward her.  And then both of them turned their minds toward the baby and began to sing soft songs meant to soothe the frightened little one.

***

As the novices were preparing to break camp, Legolas was packing up his gear, when he heard Tynd called his name.  He walked over to where Tynd, Riolith, and Nálas had been conferring.  “We are going to send you and Nálas on ahead as scouts,” Tynd said without preamble, “to see if the defending team is at the ravine.  Do you think that you can find the trail you were telling us of yesterday?”

Legolas nodded eagerly.  “I am sure I can.”

“Do not let them see you,” Riolith admonished, unnecessarily in Legolas’s opinion.  He was plainly nervous about putting their fate in the hands of the inexperienced Legolas.  Legolas nodded again.

“We will continue on as we have been doing,” Tynd told both him and Nálas. “You should be able to find us if you keep track of your own course and the one we are probably on.  Use the bird signals we agreed on.  And remember that the rules say you need to be back before nightfall, although I would hope you would be back long before then.  If your information comes too late, it does not save us any time.”

“We will be back as soon as we can,” Nálas assured him.

The two older novices looked at one another. “Do we have to ask Lómilad?” Riolith asked.

Tynd shook his head. “As long as we stay inside the boundaries, it should be all right, but I think he would be happiest if we informed him anyway.  Wait until I tell you to go, you two.  And in the meantime, distribute most of your gear among the others.  Help them, Riolith.”

Tynd went off to confer with Lómilad and Maldor, who were sitting to one side, chatting with one another as they watched the novices breaking camp, and Riolith organized the dispersal of Legolas’s and Nálas's gear, so that they could move more quickly and quietly while scouting.  Annael rolled his eyes in dismay as he accepted Legolas’s bulky leather armor.  “I expect payback for this, Legolas,” he said, tying his friend’s armor onto his pack next to his own.

Legolas grinned.  “I will carry your gear the next time we do survival training,” he said. Annael laughed.  The last time they had practiced survival training, they had all been left in the woods with only the clothes on their backs.

Tynd approached.  “You two can go now.  Just be sure to stay inside the boundaries for the exercise.  You are sure know where they are, right?”  Legolas and Nálas nodded.  “Good,” said Tynd, smiling at them.  “Go to it.”  Legolas smiled back at him and then leapt forward into the trees, with only his bow on his back, and followed Nálas in the direction of the ravine.

***

Eilian strode into the Home Guard's headquarters, flushed with excitement.  His first nephew was finally about to make his appearance, and while Eilian found that an event to rejoice over all by itself, he also could not help thinking that the time was coming soon when he could again press Ithilden for his release back to the Southern Patrol.  He found several of his warriors gathered around a small table studying a chart that he knew recorded all of their bets on the baby's birth.

"Good morning," he said, raising his eyebrows at them.  "I have no objection to the wagering, except, of course, for the fact that I lost all chance of winning at midnight when the time I guessed for the birth passed. But surely you all have something better to do?"

"Yes, Captain," they agreed good-naturedly and went on out to their various duties, leaving only Siondel behind.

"Do you know that you look like your adar when you raise your eyebrows like that?" Siondel inquired.

Eilian laughed.  "I am not sure whether Adar or I should be more horrified to know that," he responded.  He moved toward the table, where a small pile of reports lay. "Did anything interesting happen over night?" he asked.

"No," Siondel shook his head and was just starting to summarize the reports when a guard stuck his head through the door.

"Captain," he said, "the Man from Esgaroth is back, along with two of his warriors."

Eilian frowned. "Beam?" he asked and the guard nodded.  "Send him in," Eilian ordered, and the guard disappeared to be replaced in the doorway a moment later by Beam and two soldiers whom Eilian did not know.  Eilian advanced and clasped hands with the Man.

"I fear I have bad news," Beam began at once.  "I came to you because I know you, but I think this news needs to be shared with your father and brother."

Eilian blinked at his abruptness but judged that it spoke of the urgency of Beam's message.  "We will go to my adar at once," he said. "Your men may wait here if you like." Beam nodded and the two of them walked rapidly to the palace, where Thranduil was still in his office, delayed in leaving for the Great Hall by the furor over Alfirin going into labor.  Excitement was plainly written across his face when he looked up from his desk at the entry of Eilian and Beam, but he damped it down when he saw that his son brought a visitor from Esgaroth.

"What word from Esgaroth?" he asked after polite greetings had been exchanged and Eilian and Beam had been seated.

"My lord," said Beam, "since this matter concerns our mutual defense, perhaps your older son would wish to be present."

Thranduil ignored the suggestion. "Ithilden is not available," he said. "Go on with whatever you have to say."

Beam drew a deep breath.  "Since I was last here," he said, "the Easterling who visited us before has been to Esgaroth several times and has brought two others with him.  They have spoken to the town trade council and repeated what it is they desire.  As I told you before, they want the right to use the port and the lake. They said that they could increase our trade.  They were very polite and, I fear, persuasive.  They asked, for instance, that we not judge them all by the bad actions of some among them. 'We are not all evil,' they told the council and I believe there were some among the council members who might have been fooled and others who were only afraid."

"Are you telling me that your council voted to give these Men what they asked for?" Thranduil interrupted sharply, leaning forward.

"No, my lord," Beam hastily assured him, "but it was a near thing.  The vote was taken only three days ago, and acceding to the Easterling's demands was only narrowly defeated."

Thranduil sat back in his chair.  "Men can be fools some times," he said, causing Eilian to flinch slightly at the insult.

Beam looked grim. "Be that as it may," he said steadily, "it is something else I come to tell you.  The Easterling and his companions were angry at the vote and stalked out of the town hall and, indeed, out of the town.  I feared they might be angry enough to do damage so I had them followed. They rode away from the town and then disappeared into the woods – your woods. We did not follow them there, of course, for you had asked us not to, but I thought you would want to know."

Eilian's mouth fell open.  What in Arda was the Border Patrol doing?  Even as he thought that, he knew the question was unfair, for the Border Patrol had miles and miles of territory to cover. It was not surprising that no patrol was in the exact spot where the Easterlings had entered the forest. For all he knew, the Border Patrol had discovered the signs of the incursion by now and were sending word.

"At what point did they enter the Woodland Realm?" Thranduil demanded, indicating a map pinned to the wall of his office.  "Show us."

Beam walked to the map and studied it for only a moment before putting his finger on the edge of the woods perhaps seven or eight miles south of the Forest River. "Here," he said.

Thranduil and Eilian both looked at the spot that Beam had identified, and Eilian felt a chill run down his back.  "That is near the area where the novices are," he said.

He glanced at his father.  "With your leave, my lord," he said, "I will go.  I need to set warriors searching for our unwelcome visitors, and I will get the novices out of the area."

Thranduil nodded. "Do so," he said grimly.  He turned toward Beam. "We thank you for your information," he said stiffly, and Eilian strongly suspected that Thranduil was going to have something to say on the topic of Border Patrol failures on a more private occasion.  Beam nodded and followed Eilian out of the room.

***

Without his bulky gear, it seemed to Legolas that he was fairly flying through the trees. He and Nálas had left their companions behind before they had even begun to move again and were soon well away.  Legolas thought he knew exactly where the ravine was and, moving through the treetops, he and Nálas were soon approaching it, for the group had covered more ground than Legolas had realized on the previous day.  As they neared the ravine, they slowed their movements and stopped to confer.

"You check this side of the ravine," Nálas said softly into his ear.  "I will cross over and check the other side. We will meet back here.  Stay in good cover. They are likely to be sending out scouts of their own by now."  Legolas nodded and began to edge toward the ravine as Nálas quickly disappeared through the trees.

He had not searched far before he became convinced that there were no novices on this side of the ravine, but he worked his way all along the edge just to be certain.  Tynd would be disappointed, he thought.  Calorfil must have been misleading him for months.  Just to be certain he had not missed anything, he kept his attention on the edge of the ravine as he worked his way back to his starting point, but he still found no sign of the defending team.

As he crouched in a sheltering oak waiting for Nálas to return, it gradually dawned on him that the trees were uneasy over something.  He looked around cautiously, for now that he listened, the trees seemed to be whispering of danger.  Suddenly he heard a faint, high noise.  He turned his head and listened, and the noise came again.  It sounded like a child crying, he thought, startled.

If it was a child, he decided, then he needed to offer help at once, but remembering the lessons in caution that the novice masters had drummed into him and his fellows, he first sounded one of the bird signals that the attacking group had agreed on and waited to see if Nálas would answer.  When no answer came, however, he concluded that the other novice might be too far away to hear it, for the distance across the ravine was greater than he had remembered.  He hesitated only briefly before he decided that he could wait no longer.  He took his bow in hand and moved quickly in the direction of the sound.

He had gone only a few dozen yards through the branches before he saw beneath him a sight that froze him where he was.  At this point, the rocks that had tumbled back from the edge of the ravine had formed a long half circle with the open end pointing away from the ravine.  In this natural dead end was huddled a small, human, female child, and menacing her was a wolf.  The wolf was slinking slowly toward her, his yellow eyes never leaving her, and she was backed up against the rocks, crying in terror.  Legolas could clearly see the slaver dripping from the wolf's mouth, and his heart caught in his throat even as, with another part of his mind, he wondered how the child could possibly have come to be here.

All but holding his breath, he stood up on the branch and carefully nocked an arrow, but before he could draw, a whistling noise sang through the air and a sharp pain tore along the edge of his left thigh, shoving his leg out from under him and sending him tumbling to the ground with an involuntary cry of surprise.

Shock warring with confusion, he tried to rise.  And then fear swept over him as someone jumped onto his back, knocking him down again and throwing a cloak over him to pin his head and arms.  Nauseating pain shot through his leg as his attacker kicked at it.  Struggling to stay in control of the panic that was on the edge of his consciousness, he shoved frantically at whoever it was, but now a second person was on top of him, holding him down and trying to stop him from fighting them off.

"You are going to have to knock him out," said a Man's voice. Someone struck him on the head with what felt like a rock, and even muffled by the blanket, the blow was enough to send him descending into darkness.

***

Ithilden sat behind Alfirin on the bed and supported her, trying to ignore the midwife and his wife's mother who were now examining his wife.  They were making it hard for him to concentrate on keeping connected to his wife and son as they labored to bring the new life into the world.  He placed his hands over Alfirin's on her abdomen.

Even without distraction, keeping connected was difficult, for Alfirin kept slipping away into a world of her own, a world that he loathed and entered only with effort, for in it, Alfirin had been riding regular waves of pain for hours.  Even now, he could feel her stiffen and twist as anguish slid through her.  He clung to her and reached out to her with his mind, pushing against the pain and holding it as far at bay as he could. She relaxed against him as the contraction ended, but the respite was brief.  He felt her suddenly gathering what was left of her strength and all of his as the next onslaught hit.

And yet she was unbelievably strong.  For still, she remained in deep communion with the baby, and Ithilden, too, reached out to the tiny, determined creature who was his child and offered what comfort he could in the terrible struggle to be born.  At moments, the three of them were linked in a way that he knew would tie them together forever.

The two women straightened up.  "Excuse us a moment," said his mother-in-law softly, and the two of them withdrew into the sitting room.  Ithilden did not like this at all, for fear had entered his heart and it was not a feeling that he was accustomed to.

***

Eilian called the patrol to halt to allow the scout to descend from horseback and check the forest floor in several directions. They had tracked the attacking novices rather easily, for they had had no reason to cover their trail.  He thought they must be drawing near the group, for the signs that his scout was reading were growing fresher.  The scout approached.  "You might try a signal again, Captain," he said.  "I think they are quite near."

Eilian once again put his hands to his mouth and made a series of whistles and tweets. Then he paused to listen.  From directly ahead, an answering sound had arisen.  He signaled his warriors into motion again and they rode forward to find a group of nine or ten novices halted and waiting for them.  Lómilad approached.  "What has happened?" he asked anxiously.

"We have word of some Easterlings in this area of the forest," Eilian told him. "You need to get the novices out of the vicinity."  His eyes were scanning the group.  He saw Siondel sliding down from his horse to embrace Annael, who looked embarrassed, but he saw no sign of Legolas.  I must have misunderstood, he thought.  He must be in the defending group.  He turned back to Lómilad.  "Do you know where the defending group is?" he asked.

"Of course," the novice master answered.  "Their captain is required to tell me what he is planning.  They are in the old oak grove directly south of here."

Eilian turned and issued orders for two of his warriors to go and get the other group and escort them home.  He turned back to find Lómilad still standing next to his horse, looking grave.  Indeed, now that he thought of it, this whole group looked anxious.  "Is something the matter?" he asked.

"We were just becoming worried," Lómilad said grimly.  "The group had sent Legolas and Nálas ahead as scouts. They are not back yet, and I think they should have been."

Eilian's heart stopped.  "Where did they go?" he demanded.

"Toward the small ravine that is southeast of here," Lómilad answered.  "Do you know it? The one with the stream?"

Eilian nodded.  "You get the novices home," he said.  "We will look for Legolas and Nálas."

Lómilad frowned.  "I will see this group to safety," he said, "but I want to send Maldor with you.  Those are two of my novices out there."

"Very well," Eilian agreed.  He considered for a moment longer.  "You should take our horses, too," he said.  "That ravine is easier to reach through the trees than on horseback, and the horses will only hinder us.  They might speed your trip."  He dismounted and signaled for his warriors to do so too. Eilian caught the novice master's arm. "You will have to tell my adar what has happened," he said. Lómilad nodded grimly and then he and the novices began taking charge of the horses and after a few moments confusion, the novices were on their way to safety.

Eilian, the four warriors who had come with him, and Maldor moved into the trees and began speeding toward the ravine.  As they drew near it, Eilian signaled a halt. "We need to get down on the ground and search," he ordered, and they all dropped out the trees and began to comb the area.

Eilian was working his way along the edge of the ravine when he heard Siondel call, "Eilian! Over here!"  He turned and ran toward an area of underbrush where his lieutenant and Maldor were bending over a fallen figure.  "It is Nálas," Siondel told him as he approached.  "We heard him groaning."  And indeed, as Eilian crouched over him, he could see that a dazed Nálas was being helped to a sitting position.

"Can you tell us what happened?" asked Maldor with surprising gentleness.

Nálas drew in a deep, shaky breath.  "I think that someone hit me," he said in a surprised tone.

Maldor probed at the novice's head with careful fingers.  "There is a lump here," he said, indicating a place at the base of Nálas's skull.

"Legolas and I were at the ravine," Nálas said, "and I left him to search one side while he searched the other.  And then," he paused and seemed to search his memory.  "I cannot remember," he said despairingly, "but I think that someone hit me."

Eilian straightened up and looked around to where his three other warriors were still searching for signs of Legolas.  His hands were trembling slightly, but he kept his face impassive.  Siondel stood up next to him while Maldor tended to Nálas.  "I do not understand it," murmured Eilian.  "Why would someone knock him out? What would it gain them?"

Siondel shook his head. "I have no idea," he said.

"Captain!" called one of the searching warriors, and Siondel and Eilian ran toward him. The warrior led them around a rocky outcrop and into a clear area where he pointed at the ground.

Both Elves dropped to their haunches and studied the dirt, for there were clear signs of a struggle here.  And in the middle of the area, the dirt was darkened by a small, dark smear. Eilian touched it tentatively and then smelled his fingertips. "Blood," he said quietly.

"A wolf has been here," the warrior said, pointing to track a small distance away, "and it looks like a child has been here too.  A human child, judging by the shoes and the depth of the marks."  They puzzled briefly over these signs, and then Eilian turned away and began to stride toward where Maldor now had Nálas on his feet.

"Maldor," he snapped, "you get Nálas home, but I am sending Siondel on ahead of you for we need to move quickly.  Siondel, tell my adar and Ithilden what has happened. They will need to send many more warriors. In the meantime, these other three and I will go in search of whoever has Legolas.  And Valar have mercy on them when we find them," he added fiercely, "for I do not intend to."

13. Wrath

(April)

Thranduil kept his face impassive but his grip on the arms of his chair tightened as Lómilad told him that Nálas and Legolas had not returned from their scouting mission.

"Eilian and the others went looking for them, my lord," he finished, "while I escorted the novices home. We know exactly where Nálas and Legolas were headed, so I do not think we will have to wait long to hear from the search party."

"Thank you, Lómilad," Thranduil told him as coolly as he could.  "You may go."  With a look of sympathy on his face, the novice master bowed and left the king's office.  Thranduil sat still for a moment and let his mind reach out, groping for the bond that tied him to him youngest son and feeling that it was still intact.   Surely he would know if something had happened to Legolas, Thranduil thought.

He wondered if he should disturb Ithilden, who was still helping his own son into the world and decided that he would not do so yet.  Thranduil was beginning to be worried about the length of Alfirin's labor.  Surely this day that should have been so joyful would not turn into a time of despair, he thought.

***

Legolas swam slowly back to foggy consciousness, becoming aware first of the pain in his head.  He tried to bring his hand to the bump on his head and suddenly realized that his wrists were tied behind his back.  He blinked, trying to bring the world into focus again, and his gaze came to rest on a small girl with blond braids, who sat looking at him with wide eyes.  Memory came flooding back, and with it, came a stab of fear that he immediately suppressed.  Get hold of yourself, he chided.

"Hello," said the child. "Are you awake?"

"Hello," said Legolas cautiously.  He looked around.  He and the child seemed to be alone in a small tent of some sort.  He could hear Men moving around outside the tent flap.  He could also hear the uneasy rustle of trees, the sound of forest birds, and something else less familiar – the rustle of long grasses perhaps?  They were still in the woods then, he thought tentatively, but near the edge from which the grasses ran down to the Long Lake.

"My name is Nitha," the child continued.  "What's your name?"

He pulled himself to a sitting position, propped himself against some gear that had been stored in the tent, and waited for the momentary dizziness to clear.  Movement was made difficult by the fact that his feet were tied as well as his hands. He looked at Nitha.  Her hands were tied too, although they were tied in front of her rather than behind, and her feet were untied.  "My name is Legolas," he answered her, struggling to make his tongue work clearly in his dry mouth.

He puzzled over his memories for a moment.  "Nitha," he finally asked, "when I saw you in the forest, was there a wolf threatening you?"

She nodded vigorously.  "He belongs to Karik," she said, with a small tremor in her voice.  "He does what Karik says."

"Who is Karik?" Legolas asked.

"I am Karik," said a deep voice that seemed faintly familiar. Legolas turned his head to find that a Man was standing just inside the tent flap.  From the corner of his eye, Legolas could see Nitha drawing herself into a smaller bundle. Karik plainly frightened her.

The Man had a faintly foreign look about him.  He was short but strong looking, with dark hair and eyes, and he was elegantly dressed in grey trousers and tunic that were trimmed with bands of red and gold.  He wore boots and spurs and carried a riding whip.  Legolas noted the spurs and the whip and his lip curled in scorn.  No Elf would ever use anything so cruel on a horse; no Elf would need to.  At that moment, he remembered where he had heard the Man's voice before. This was the Man who had instructed someone else to knock him out when he had come to Nitha's aid in the forest.

"And just what are you sneering at, son of Thranduil?" Karik asked unpleasantly.  Legolas looked at him sharply.  "Ah, yes," Karik smiled, "I know who you are. My men and I have been keeping an eye on you for some time."  A chill ran down Legolas's spine at the idea that this Man had been spying on him, but he made his face impassive and allowed his eyes to narrow in a deliberate imitation of his father at his most intimidating.

Karik studied him.  "Are you thirsty?" he asked abruptly.  Legolas hesitated and then nodded stiffly.  Karik smiled and reached for a water skin that hung on a hook on one of the tent supports.  He opened it and brought it close to Legolas's lips.  "Ask me nicely for a drink of water," Karik demanded.

Legolas froze and then straightened his spine.  In some way that he did not yet understand, he thought, he was here not randomly, but because he was a son of the king of the Woodland Realm.  He needed to be his father's representative.  He would not beg for water.  He stared into the Man's eyes with the full force of his Elven gaze and was intensely satisfied when Karik looked away.  He was less satisfied when Karik went first to give a drink of water to Nitha, who drank obediently without meeting Karik's eyes, and then carefully closed the water skin and hung it back on its hook.

"We will try again later," he said.  "I suggest you rest, son of Thranduil.  We will be moving across the lake as soon as it is dark."  And he left the tent.

Legolas let his head fall back on the gear against which he was leaning.  What was he doing here? he wondered desperately.  What did this Man want with him?  Whatever it was could not bode well for the Woodland Realm or there would be no need to hold him hostage.  His thigh twinged, reminding him that an arrow had sliced through the edge of it.  He could not examine the wound now, with his hands tied behind his back, but while he was unconscious, someone had evidently cleaned and bandaged it. The tight itchiness of it suggested that it was already starting to heal, so it could not have been very deep.

"Are you thirsty?" Nitha asked.  Legolas started. He had forgotten the child's presence.  He looked at her.  "I think I can reach the water skin," she said, regarding him seriously.

He blinked and then gave her a slow smile.  "I am rather thirsty," he admitted.  She struggled to her feet and then stood on tiptoe to lift the water skin carefully down from its hook with her bound hands.  She turned to him triumphantly.

"I have been growing," she chirped as she came toward him.  "My daddy says I am going to be tall."  She stopped in front of him and held the skin cradled in one arm as she opened it.  Then she held it to his lips and tilted it carefully.  He could not remember when water had ever tasted so good.

"Thank you," he said in genuine gratitude.  She nodded solemnly, closed the skin, and carried it back to its hook.  For a moment, he thought she was not going to be able to get the strap to catch over the hook, but she persisted and, at last, it hung where the Man had left it.  Then she came to sit down next to him.

"It will be best if I sit near you, so you are not frightened," she said, leading Legolas to smother a smile.

"How did you come to be here, Nitha?" he asked.  "Where do you come from?"

"I come from Esgaroth," she said.  "I was playing outside and nasty Emborik came and grabbed me.  He is one of Karik's men," she informed Legolas.  "I saw him when they came to visit my daddy before."  He could feel her shudder slightly and slide a little closer to him.

"And who is your daddy?" Legolas asked.

"My daddy is the president of the trade council in Esgaroth," she said with some pride. "He is very important."

Legolas suddenly saw a pattern in the puzzling actions of these Men.  He had heard his father and brothers talking about the Easterling who had been in the woods, and he had met Beam and knew why he had come to Thranduil's halls.

"By any chance did your daddy call Karik an Easterling?" he asked the child and was not surprised when she nodded in response. Now he could see only too clearly why the Man might find it useful to have in his keeping the daughter of the Esgaroth trade council's president and the son of the king of the Woodland Realm.

Karik could not be allowed to carry out his plan for Esgaroth and the Woodland Realm, Legolas thought, whatever that plan might be.  Legolas must not be the means by which harm was done his father's realm or the subject of a painful choice on Thranduil's part.  He had a clear obligation and that was to escape and take Nitha with him, and he needed to do it soon, before the Men took them across the Long Lake.  If he could get free and carry information home, his brothers would take care of Karik and his men. This last thought gave him profound satisfaction. He could almost feel sorry for Karik. Almost, but not quite.

***

Ithilden wrapped his arms around Alfirin, cradled her back against his chest, and sang softly into her ear as her body arched in yet another contraction.  The song was meant to hold at bay his own fear, hers, and the baby's as the three of them labored together, but he did not know how much longer he was going to be able to stay in harmony with the song of Arda, and he could feel that Alfirin, too, was on the verge of sliding away into chaos.

"Alfirin," his mother-in-law's voice started him from his concentration on his wife and child.  "You must listen to me.  You, too, Ithilden," she added fixing him with her serious healer's gaze.

Alfirin stirred and fixed her eyes on her mother.  "What is it, Naneth?" she asked, fear in her voice. "Is something wrong?"

"Not really," her mother answered, "but there is something you must do. The baby is lying in such a way that he cannot easily leave your womb."

Ithilden felt his heart contract.  This then was the reason for Alfirin's unusually long labor.  "What must we do?" he demanded.

"With your help, Alfirin must turn the baby," his mother-in-law said.  "And you must do it now before all three of you are too tired."

Alfirin clutched at his hands spread over her abdomen. "How?" she asked despairingly.

"Use your communion with your son," her mother told her, "and your mind's control of your body."  She smiled reassuringly at her daughter.  "Coax and nudge the little one into doing what he should.  It will be practice for dealing with him after he is born."

"Come, love," he murmured into Alfirin's ear.  "We can do this."  And the two of them began to slip even more deeply into the bond they already felt with this small son.

***

Thranduil froze in place and stared at Siondel, who had just finished telling him what the search party had found.  Then he strode to the door of his office and summoned the attendant there. "Go and see if Ithilden is able to come to me," he ordered, and then turned back to Siondel.

"So Legolas was taken, but Nálas was not?" he confirmed, and Siondel nodded unhappily.  Thranduil paced once across the room and then turned again. "Does that mean they know who he is?" he wondered.  "And who could this human child have been?"  He did not mention the blood that Eilian had found, but the thought of it hovered on the edge of everything he said.

The attendant returned. "My lord," he said, "the midwife says that Ithilden cannot come."  Thranduil paused again and then pushed worry over the birth of his grandchild aside as something he could do nothing about.

"Are Beam and the other Men from Esgaroth still here?" he asked, and at the attendant's nod, he ordered, "Send them to me." He turned to Siondel.  "I want a party of warriors, as many as you can assemble, ready to ride to Eilian's aid within half an hour," he ordered. 

"Yes, my lord," Siondel bowed and hurried out of the room to carry out his instructions.

Thranduil stood with his hand on the mantelpiece, staring into the unlit fireplace.   Legolas was in danger, and Ithilden was not going to be able to lead the war party he intended to send after him.  He knew that he could probably trust Eilian to captain the warriors, but in his heart, he did not want to leave it to Eilian to wreak vengeance on the Men who had taken his child.  He wanted to do it himself.

Ordinarily, he would not have considered riding out with a war party.  He was king and that meant that he had no right to risk himself.   But Ithilden was his heir and he was here, safe at the palace.  The Woodland Realm would not be left leaderless if he went and did not return.  But he would return, he vowed, because he would succeed in finding and destroying the Men who had dared to lay a finger on his youngest son.

A perfunctory knock on the door sounded and the attendant ushered in Beam and his two warriors, who bowed in greeting.  "My lord," said Beam.

"I have heard from Eilian," Thranduil began without preface.  "He has seen signs of Men who, I assume, are the Easterlings you tracked.  They have taken Legolas captive."  The three Men blinked at him.  "Moreover," Thranduil went on, "they appear to have a human child with them.  The warrior bringing the message tells me the child was small."

The Men stirred.  "Beam," one of them murmured, "do you suppose it is the council president's daughter?"

Beam looked at Thranduil.  "A child was missing from Esgaroth the day we left," he said.  "A search was in progress.  Her parents thought she might have been hurt or become lost."

Thranduil nodded.  "Perhaps this is she," he said briefly.

Another brief knock sounded and the attendant entered again.  "My lord," he said, "warriors from the Border Patrol are here with a herald who says he has a message for you."

Thranduil stiffened.  "Send them in," he bid, and two Elven warriors entered, with a human herald between them wearing red, grey, and gold livery that Thranduil had not seen before. They all bowed.  "Speak," Thranduil ordered the Man.

"My lord," the herald began, giving a quick glance at Beam and his companions, "I bring a message from Karik of Rhûn."  He paused and Thranduil nodded impatiently to signal that he might go on with his message.  "My master bids me to tell you that your youngest son is now his guest.  He means harm neither to him nor to you.  However, he has taken this means to assure himself that you will keep the forces of the Woodland Realm away from the business in which he seeks to engage at Esgaroth."

Rage rose up in Thranduil's throat and threatened to choke him, and he could see Beam stiffening.

"My master does not believe that you would wish to trouble yourself with the affairs of Men," the herald went on.  "If his belief should prove correct, and you stay content within the boundaries and business of your own Realm, no harm will come to your son, and he will, in time, be returned to you with my master's good will."

Thranduil stood stock still for a moment, struggling to be certain that when he moved, he would not strike this messenger dead where he stood.  By all customs, heralds came and went in safety. Moreover, while killing this messenger would be satisfying, it would not help him regain his son.

The messenger was shifting nervously under the king's hooded gaze.  "You may go," Thranduil finally told him.

He hesitated and then asked, "Have you a message for me to take to my master, my lord?

"You may tell him," Thranduil spat, "that the Elves of the Woodland Realm know well how to value the good will of Men like your master.  You may also tell him that Elves value their children beyond measure."

The herald stood for a moment uncertainly and then bowed and took his leave.  Thranduil called back one of the warriors escorting him.  "Follow him," he ordered, although he did not have much hope that the Man would lead them anywhere important. The Elf nodded and left.

The room was silent.  Finally Beam asked neutrally, "What will you do, my lord?"

"Do?" Thanduil exclaimed.  "What I will do is ride out from here in five minutes with enough warriors to crush them like insects into the dust of Arda.  When I am through with them, they will not be able to threaten a nest of robins.  And then," he added with satisfaction, "I will make them pay for whatever harm they have done my son."

Beam's eyes gleamed.  "My lord," he said, "it would be an honor to ride with you."

Thranduil scanned him imperiously.  "Very well," he said. "Come."  And he swept from the room, malevolent energy flowing from him like lightening from a summer storm.

***

Outside the tent, Legolas could hear a wolf howling.  He assumed it was the wolf that belonged to Karik and, indeed, almost immediately he heard the Man call sharply to the animal.  It sounded as if Karik were right outside the tent.  Nitha edged toward him until she was up against him.

He could feel the small warm body trembling slightly against his side.  "Do not be afraid," he said soothingly, although, in his heart, he thought she had good reason to be frightened.

"I am not afraid," she declared stoutly.  "But I wish my daddy would come now."

Legolas smiled faintly at her. "Your daddy will be very proud of how brave you have been," he told her and was rewarded by seeing the small face lighten a little.

"My daddy will be very angry with them," she affirmed.

"Mine too," Legolas agreed companionably.

She smiled at him, revealing a large gap in her front teeth.  "But you are all grown up!" she exclaimed.

His smile broadened.  "I think so," he agreed, "but my 'daddy' does not." She laughed, apparently finding his father's misconception amusing.

He watched as she raised her bound hands to brush a wisp of hair from her face.  "Nitha," he asked suddenly, "do you think that you could untie my hands?"   She looked at him questioningly, and he wiggled around so that his back was toward her.  "You see the knot?" he asked.  "Can you untie it?"

"It is a very big knot," she said doubtfully, but he felt small fingers begin to poke and tug at the thick rope around his wrists.  He heard her sigh in frustration.  "It it too tight!" she exclaimed unhappily.

"Keep at it. You can do it," he urged, although he was beginning to doubt that she could. Suddenly, his ears picked up the sound of someone approaching the tent.  "Move away," he whispered urgently, wriggling frantically to put some distance between them, but she was too startled to react and was still close behind with her arms outstretched toward him when the flap lifted and Karik entered.

With one glance, the Man took in the situation.  "What's this?" he asked menacingly, advancing toward the child.  "Have you been being naughty, Nitha?"   And to Legolas's horror, he raised the riding whip.

"No," he shouted, launching himself as best he could at Karik's legs, knocking them out from under him.  The Man came up with a roar of anger, and seized Legolas by the hair on the back of his head.  He gasped at the pain and was distracted from what the Man was doing until he felt cold air on his back and realized that Karik had used a knife to cut away his soft leather tunic and silk undertunic.  Suddenly he felt something strike across his back, leaving a trail that first felt numb and then burst into flame.  He twisted away as the Man raised the whip and brought it down a half dozen times more, leaving him gasping and then clenching his teeth lest a cry of pain escape.

Karik stopped and stood over him panting. Legolas became aware that Nitha was sobbing hysterically.  "Don't hurt him," she pleaded.  The Man ignored her.

"Do not ever touch me again," Karik snarled.  "If you ever do, I will punish the girl."  He used his hold on Legolas's hair to turn the Elf's head painfully to face him.  "Do you understand?"  When Legolas hesitated, he tightened his grip and shook him. "Do you understand?" he insisted.

Unable to nod with the Man's grip in his hair, Legolas could only gasp, "Yes."

The Man dropped him and then moved toward Nitha.  For a heart stopping moment, Legolas thought he was going to strike her, and so did she, for she flinched away, and her crying was choked into whimpers of terror.  Instead, however, Karik seized her and dragged her back to where she had been sitting near one of the poles of the tent.  Ignoring her pathetic protests, he reached for a coil of rope, which he tied first around her waist and then around the tent pole.  "That should remove the temptation to wander," he said grimly when he had finished.

He scanned both of them and then brought his gaze to rest on Legolas. "I had thought you might be thirsty enough to be polite by now," he said, "but I see I was mistaken.  Waiting until dark to quench your thirst will not hurt you at all.  You need to learn that I am your master here and you will obey me."  He glanced at them both one more time and then left the tent.

Legolas lay limply, listening to Nitha's cries but, for the moment, too shocked by the beating to respond. "Legolas," Nitha was calling, "are you all right?"  He had to pull himself together, he thought.  He moved and then flinched at the searing agony that the movement caused in his back. Suddenly he remembered Maldor, the unarmed combat master, telling the novices, "It is only pain."  Indeed, he thought, somewhat dryly, and drew a deep breath.

"I am all right," he told Nitha, with his voice steady, and she seemed to be comforted for her sobs diminished and then stopped and he could hear her breathing shakily.  He lay for another moment, gathering the strength he would need to drag himself to a sitting position, and as he lay, his eyes drifted across the pile of gear in the corner and settled on a pair of sharp, wicked-looking spurs.   Suddenly, his mind snapped to attention.  What a fool I am, he thought, and began to inch toward the spurs.

***

Eilian bent over the marks in the forest floor, trying to read what they had to tell him about the direction in which Legolas had been taken.  He straightened up, and for at least the tenth time, shoved fear to the back of his mind so that he could continue to concentrate on the task before him.  A short distance back, the group of six or so that he thought had taken his brother had split up.  Most of the horses had gone south, leaving four Men on foot and one rider continuing on northeast.  He had had to decide which group was the one holding Legolas, for with only three warriors with him, he could not follow both.  The trees had been no help because they had been restless in all directions. He had chosen to pursue the Men on foot, for to him, it looked as if most of the horses going south had been riderless, and he believed that for some reason, the animals were being taken away.  If he had chosen the wrong path, he worried, he could be too late in reaching his younger brother.

"Someone comes," said the warrior standing behind him, and Eilian's ears confirmed what the warrior told him.  A group of perhaps half a dozen riders was approaching cautiously from the northeast.  Eilian and the three warriors with him were instantly into the trees and out of sight, leaving only a whisper of leaves behind them, but even as they took shelter, Eilian realized that the approaching riders were Elves.  He waited and one of the Border Patrols rode into sight and stopped. They know we are here, Eilian thought, and are waiting for us to recognize them. Good.  I have something to say to these border guards.  He dropped to the ground and stalked toward the patrol.

"Captain," nodded their leader, sliding from his horse.  Eilian recognized Belendil, a lieutenant for whom he had a fair amount of respect.

"Lieutenant," he answered crisply.  "Where has your patrol been for the last three days?"

Belendil straightened.  "We have been scouting the eastern edge of the forest," he said, apparently aware that Eilian was angry about something, and, as it turned out, having a pretty good idea what it was. "This morning, we found signs that a dozen or so Men had entered the woods about eight miles south of the Forest River.  I am sorry that we did not find the signs sooner, but we pass that spot only every three days."

Somewhat mollified, Eilian asked, "What are you doing here?"

"We have been trying to locate the Men," Belendil told him. "We think we have found their camp but it is on the edge of the woods and we were circling around it to see if we could approach closer from the forest side."

Eilian's heart began to pound.  "You know where their camp is?" he asked sharply.

Belendil nodded. "We think so," he said.  "We had intended to confirm its location and then try to find out if they were friendly."

"Show me where it is," said Eilian.  "And be cautious when you do so, for these Men are not friendly.  They have taken my younger brother captive."

Belendil blinked, suddenly aware that this scouting mission was fraught with dangers. "I suggest that you and I advance on foot, Captain," he said.  "We will learn what we can and not alert them to our presence."

Eilian nodded.  He was on foot anyway.  "Send one of your warriors at all speed toward the palace," he added. "I have already sent a message asking Ithilden to send more warriors, and they are probably on their way here by now.  Have your warrior look for them and tell them where to come."  Belendil rushed to do as he had been told and then returned.

Eilian signaled him forward and the two of them took to the trees.   They had gone perhaps a league when Belendil raised his hand to signal that they had reached the area in which he and his patrol thought the Men were camped, and they crept forward.  Eilian peered cautiously through the branches.  A group of Men were camped a short distance inside the eastern edge of the forest.  Eilian counted an even dozen Men, quietly dozing in the shade or tending their equipment. To his satisfaction, the Men appeared to be swordsmen rather than archer, for he saw no bows.  There was only one horse, tethered near the northern end of the camp.  Judging by the elaborate tack, Elian assumed the animal belonged to the group's leader.

At one end of the camp stood a low tent with a guard in front.  Eilian eyed it in frustration, for he was as certain as he could be that Legolas was inside that tent, and he knew that for now, he would have to leave him there.  Then his eyes were drawn to a grey shape lying quietly near the tent.  He drew in his breath quietly as he realized that the animal was a wolf.  At least that explained some of the marks the Elves had seen at the place where Legolas was captured, he thought, already planning how he and his warriors would contend with the wolf as well as these Men.

At that moment, the tent flap opened, and a Man came out.  The hair on the back of Eilian's neck rose, and for reasons he could not explain, he hated this Man on sight.  Judging by the way the guard snapped to attention, Eilian assumed he was in charge.  He studied the Man, whose face was flushed as if from exertion.  The Man strode across the camp to where two others were eating, flung the riding whip he was carrying to one side, and dropped to his haunches to accept the food that one of the others was offering.  Eilian focused on their conversation as best he could from this distance.

"Have you taught the Elf who is master yet, Karik?" asked the underling.

"I doubt very much if that is the last time I will need to do it," the leader said and then bit angrily into his bread and fell silent.

Having seen enough, Eilian reluctantly tapped Belendil's arm and indicated that they should withdraw.  The two of them returned to where Belendil's patrol and Eilian's three companions waited for them.  Eilian called them together and described what he and Belendil had seen in the camp.

"We will go through the trees as silently as we can and surprise them," he said.  He indicated two of his own warriors. "You two shoot the wolf immediately. We do not want to have to contend with it when we have to take to the ground to go into the tent."  He turned to Belendil.  "Wait with one of your warriors until the wolf is dead. Then take out the guard and get Legolas out of the tent.  We found blood at the place where he was taken, so he is probably wounded and may not be able to walk.  Whatever else is happening, you need to get him away."

Belendil nodded.  "You can count on us," he assured Eilian, who had been sorely tempted to take on this task himself but had decided that he decided that he needed to oversee the attack and had, moreover, chosen another special charge as his own.

"I will see to it that their leader does not get away," he said grimly. He looked around. "Does everyone understand?" he asked and received nods of affirmation. "Good.  Come then. We have left these Men alone for long enough." And he and the other warriors leapt into the branches and began to move forward toward the clearing in which the camp stood.

***

Legolas gasped in relief as the sharp spur cut through the last bit of rope binding his wrists. He wasted no time in untying at the rope on his ankles, ignoring the pain in his hands and wrists caused both by returning circulation and the cuts he had not been able to avoid inflicting on himself as he fumbled blindly with the spur.  Nitha watched him, wide-eyed.

He jumped to his feet and limped toward her, willing his cramped legs back to life.  The long hours of being tied up had left him momentarily clumsy.  "You have to be very quiet," he urged her as he untied her.  "And you have to hang on tight to me." She nodded solemnly, and he hoped she understood the urgency of his instructions because if this attempt at escape failed, he was not sure they would get another chance.  It was late in the day and once he and Nitha had been moved across the lake, it would be much harder to get to safety.

"Your back is bleeding," she said in a very small voice.  He grimaced and then searched through the gear until he found a reasonably soft tunic that he slid over his head, grateful for the fact that it fit loosely.

He reached for the spur again and, in the fabric at the back of the tent, he sliced a small hole through which he peered carefully.  His ears had told him there were no Men in that direction, but he did not intend to be caught off guard again, as he had been when he was captured.  He saw no one, so he used the spur to enlarge the opening and then turned and motioned to Nitha.  She crept to his side and put her hand trustingly in his.  He smiled encouragingly at her, drew a deep breath, and then ducked through the hole and, ignoring the pain in his back and left thigh, he sprinted for the trees, pulling her behind him.

They were halfway across the grassy area behind the tent when a movement to his left caught his eye.  He glanced over to see the grey form of Karik's pet wolf speeding silently through the grass toward them.  Nitha stumbled and he could feel her fear.  Desperately, he swept his arm around her waist, gathered her to him, and took a great leap, landing precariously on the lowest limb of an oak and then scrambling higher with the wolf's hot breath on his ankles.  Nitha had buried her face in his shoulder and had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, but she had made no noise and, thankfully, neither had the wolf.  If no one had seen it, their escape might yet remain undetected for a while.

In the meantime, he set about the business of moving through the trees as quickly as he could with the child in his arm. She had lifted her face from his shoulder and was watching with dazed excitement as they swept through the tree tops.  "You were very brave," he told her.  "I could not have asked for a braver partner in escape."  She smiled her gap-toothed smile at him in answer.

They had been moving for only a brief while before he heard horses ahead. He stopped and moved into the deepest leaf cover he could find but had only just reached shelter before his ears told him that most of the approaching horses were using no tack and thus that the riders were probably Elves.  It was probably one of his brothers, he thought in excitement.  He dropped lower through the branches again and was on the ground in time to see his father come riding rapidly through the trees at the head of a large group of warriors.  He blinked in surprise. In all of his young life, he never remembered seeing his father ride out with a war party.

***

For a brief instant, Thranduil thought that his eyes were deceiving him and that the figure in front of him had been created by his own wishes.  But then he raised his hand, stopping the war party in a flurry of hooves, and was on the ground before his stallion had come to a full halt.  At his approach, Legolas set the child he had been carrying down onto her feet, and from the corner of his eyes, Thranduil could see her running toward Beam.

"I helped Legolas escape," she was telling him, "and he said I was very brave."

But her talk slipped past Thranduil and he had no thought for anyone but Legolas.  He unabashedly flung his arms around his son and grasped him tight.  But his relief was tempered when he felt Legolas flinch and heard him draw his breath in sharply.  "What is it?" he demanded.

"It is nothing," Legolas protested. But Thranduil had already untied the lacings at the neck of the tunic that he now realized was unfamiliar.  He dragged the garment away from his son's shoulders, expecting to see some sort of wound and then stared in shock at the ends of the angry welts he could see slanting down across his son's back and disappearing under his tunic.  He said nothing, but he stiffened and his awareness of everything else fell away as all of his attention focused on the desire to hold these Men in his own hands and hurt them.  They had beaten his child.  He would make them pay dearly, and then he would kill them.

"Adar?" Legolas said uncertainly, evidently reacting to something unfamiliar in his father's manner. Looking embarrassed, his son pulled away and shrugged his tunic back into place, being more careful than he should ever have had to be, Thranduil thought, to avoid scraping the garment over his back.  And then their Elven ears picked up the sound of battle from up ahead.

Thranduil turned toward Beam.  "Get the child out of here," he ordered.  "Eilian and his warriors have engaged them. We will go and join him."  He turned back toward his horse.

"It will be faster to go through the trees, Adar," Legolas told him.  "The forest is too thick for horses on this side of the Men's camp."

"I want to stay with Legolas," the little girl was protesting as Beam handed her up to one of his warriors still on horseback.

Thranduil hesitated. By rights, he should send Legolas too out of harm's way.  He was not yet a warrior, and it would be irresponsible to take him into battle.  But he found he was deeply reluctant to let his youngest son out of his sight.  Legolas touched him lightly on the arm.  "Please do not send me away, Adar," he said in a low voice.

"Legolas would not let Karik hit me," the child was telling Beam, "and then Karik hit him."

Thranduil looked into his son's earnest young face. Perhaps Legolas had earned the right to come with them, he thought.  "Very well," he said. "Beam, will you loan my son your bow and arrows?"  The Man trotted toward them, removing his quiver as he came. He handed them to Legolas.  Thranduil turned to his son again. "Stay near me and do not leave the trees. Do you understand?"  Legolas nodded eagerly as he strapped on Beam's quiver and tested his bow.  "Then come," Thranduil ordered, signaling that his warriors too should follow him.  And the Elves were all off their horses and into the trees, following their ears toward the battle.

***

Eilian searched through the chaos of Men and Elves beneath him, trying to find the Man he had identified as their leader when he and Belendil had scouted the camp, the one that they called Karik.  He and his warriors had taken these Men totally unaware and sent feathered death raining down upon them.  The Men had scattered, and the Elves had been drawn from the trees to dig their enemies from hiding places with swords and pursue them into the grassland beyond the edge of the woods.  But not everything had gone as planned, for Belendil had already signaled that the tent was empty, which he could only hope meant that Legolas had escaped and not that the Men had moved him elsewhere.  And he had so far failed at his own task of making sure that the leader of these Easterlings did not escape.

Suddenly, he caught sight of the Man he sought. Somehow, Karik had made his way through the chaos to where the horse was tethered.  Eilian's heart caught in his throat. If this Man got on horseback and into the grassland, there would be no catching him, and the animal was at a very awkward angle to Eilian's left, making a bow shot almost impossible. Shouldering his bow, he raced through the trees towards the horse and got there just as Karik had mounted and was digging his heels into the animal's sides.  Gathering his legs for the leap, he flew from the branch on which he stood, pulling the Man off his horse and landing on the ground in a tangled, rolling heap of legs and swords.

They came to a stop with Eilian on top, drawing his sword back awkwardly at the close distance.  Karik clutched at Eilian's wrist, keeping the sword at bay, while he struggled to push the Elf off him.  His gaze flickered past Eilian, and suddenly, from the corner of his eye, Eilian saw a raised sword flashing as a Man came to the aid of his leader.  He ducked hastily to one side, raising own sword a second too late to parry the blow.  But the sword did not fall, for the Man abruptly jerked, dropped his weapon, and crumpled to the ground with an arrow in his back.  Eilian had time to glance for only a second in the direction from which the arrow had come and to register the unexpected fact that it was Legolas, standing in a beech tree, who had fired it.

Then Karik was on top of him, shoving him violently and striking his head against a tree root, momentarily stunning him.  With a triumphant look on his face, Karik raised his own sword and pointed it at Eilian's throat.  Then someone roared up behind the Man, straddling Eilian's legs.  The newcomer grasped Karik by the hair, pulled his head back, and, without a second's hesitation, used an ornate knife to slit his throat.  Eilian flinched away from the shower of blood, and his rescuer pulled Karik's body off him and tossed it aside.  He looked up into the chillingly fierce face of his father.  For a moment, they froze with their eyes locked. Then Thranduil reached a hand to pull him to his feet, and they both spun to see where they were needed on the battlefield.

Belendil approached, panting.  "We think one or two may have gotten away toward the lake, my lord," he addressed Thranduil.  "There are two boats hidden in the grass down there.  My warriors have gone after them."

Eilian drew a deep breath and sheathed his sword.  The battle was over then.  He looked back toward the beech tree where he had seen Legolas a moment before and found his younger brother staring at their father with something like shock on his face.  Thranduil had turned too and was beckoning his youngest son toward them.  Legolas jumped lightly to the ground and approached, looking now at the gore that covered Eilian's chest and was probably splashed on his face.  He was pale but composed and determined looking.

Thranduil's eyes were still hooded as he nudged Karik's body with his foot.  "This is the one who beat you, is it not?"  Eilian started at the question, but Legolas nodded, and Thranduil's face relaxed slightly.  "He will not do so again," said Thranduil with obvious satisfaction.

Eilian looked at Legolas's stricken face. There was no glamour in what his little brother had just witnessed.  Moreover, while he had probably believed that he had seen their father angry, Eilian knew that Legolas had never before seen him at his most wrathful.  The knowledge that the wrath had been provoked by the threat of harm to Legolas and Eilian would undoubtedly take some struggling to understand.  "I see you did not need rescuing, brat," he said lightly, and Legolas gave him a glance that spoke of gratitude for the small piece of normality in the lovingly mocking nickname.

Thranduil put his arm lightly around Legolas's shoulders.  "We will go home," he said.  "My grandson is almost here."

***

"One more push, Alfirin," crooned her mother.  "Just one more."

Ithilden let every bit of strength he possessed flow across their bond into the body of his exhausted wife.  He could feel her drawing on him and concentrating on the baby, who was now so close to being born.  With a last surge of effort, she pushed and suddenly, the long hours of labor were over.

Her mother caught and lifted the small, perfect form that was now separate from Alfirin and him but eternally bonded to them.  In the palace of the Woodland King, a baby cried for the first time in over forty years.  And his parent wept tears of joy for the life they had been given.

14.  Fathers and Sons

(April)

The storm whirled around him.  Wind tore through the trees, making them moan in sympathetic fear.  His heart pounding, Legolas glanced down from the branch on which he stood, trying to see if the wolf was still after him.  Unexpectedly, the wolf leapt down from a branch above him and knocked him to the ground, pinning him beneath its weight.  He struggled to get free, to push the wolf off him, but the animal strained toward him, teeth bared, snapping at his throat.  Then a knife flashed, and instead of the yellow eyes of the wolf, he saw the hooded eyes of his father.  Blood spouted everywhere, washing over his body and flooding his mouth so that he choked when he tried to scream.

"Legolas!" called his father's voice.  Someone grabbed his arm and shook him, and he rolled frantically away grabbing for his dagger.  He would not allow himself to be beaten again. Just as he grasped the dagger, a hand seized his wrist.

"Legolas!" Thanduil called, more firmly this time.  "Wake up.  You are dreaming."

His eyes snapped into focus, and, as in his dream, he saw his father bending over him.  He gasped and tried to slip out of the grip on his wrist, but Thranduil frowned and shook him lightly again.  "It was a dream," Thranduil repeated.  "You are safe.  No one will harm you here."

Reality suddenly came back to him.  He was home, in his own chamber, in his own bed.  Relief flooding his system, he sagged back against the pillows and then flinched and rolled onto his side as the welts on his back made themselves felt.  Thranduil released his wrist, took the dagger from his hand, and carefully placed it out of his reach on the far side of the table next to the bed.  Then he drew up a chair next to the bed and sat down, studying Legolas's face.

Under that gaze, Legolas looked away, remembering the feral gleam that had been in Thranduil's eyes when he slit Karik's throat. Legolas did not regret the Man's death, but in the Easterlings' camp, he had seen a side of his father that he had not known before, and he did not yet know what to make of it.  His father had killed Karik because the Man had harmed him and threatened Eilian. In doing so, Thranduil had been utterly single-minded; justice and vengeance had been one for him.  Legolas did not question the rightness of his father's actions, for Eilian would now be dead if Thranduil had not killed Karik.  He was simply overwhelmed by the power and strength of the fury that his father had shown. 

"Is your thigh paining you?" Thranduil asked.  Legolas shook his head.  Without even allowing him to see Ithilden's baby, Thranduil had sent him to bed and fetched Alfirin's mother to look at all of his various injuries as soon as they had reached the palace on the previous evening.  She had confirmed Legolas's conclusion that the arrow wound to his thigh was not serious and was already well on its way to healing.  She had deemed the cuts that the spur had made in his wrists to be minor as well.

"Your back, then?" Thranduil persisted.  Legolas shook his head again, although, in truth, the welts on his back bothered him out of proportion to the injury they represented.  The experience of being assaulted in a manner that felt so intimate had shocked him even beyond the considerable pain it had caused. And in a way that he could not explain, he was ashamed of the marks on his back in a way he was not of the wound in his thigh.

Thranduil sat quietly for a moment, studying him.  "Do you wish to tell me about your dream?" he invited softly.  Legolas shuddered slightly and lowered his eyes to the silken coverlet.  How could he tell his father that, in his dream, Thranduil's ferocity had frightened him?

Thranduil sighed and sat back in the chair.  "I was proud of you today, iôn-nín," he said.  "You were in a dangerous situation and you kept your head and escaped, saving the child at the same time.  Warriors are supposed to protect the helpless, but it is not often they are called on to do it so directly that they put their bodies between a child and a whip."  Legolas cringed slightly, and from the corner of his eye, he could see his father regarding him closely.  "You bore the beating well," Thranduil went on, emphasizing every word.  "Karik tried to humiliate you and break your courage, but he could not do it.  Those marks on your back show just how strong you are, for they show what it took to defy him and defeat him."

There was a moment's silence.  How was it, Legolas wondered, that his father always knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling even when he tried his best to conceal it?  He knew that his father had been trying to lessen his uneasiness over the beating, and he found that, against all expectations, Thranduil had succeeded in doing so.  He still had no intention of letting anyone outside his family see the marks if he could help it, but he found that he was suddenly less unhappy at the thought of Thranduil or his brothers seeing them.

As if recognizing that it was time to leave a difficult subject, Thranduil smiled slightly and said, "Nitha was most unhappy about being sent home without having a chance to say goodbye to you."

Relieved that the topic of conversation had shifted away from him, Legolas could not help smiling in return.  "She will forget all about me when she sees her ada," he said.  "I gather that he dotes on her."

"Before she left, she announced that she was coming back to take care of you," Thranduil told him.

Legolas laughed.  "I do not think I need to worry," he said.  "She will be lucky if her parents let her play outside again before she marries."

"I suspect that is so," Thranduil said placidly. "Some parents become overprotective if their children have been threatened."  Legolas blinked and wondered if his father could possibly be speaking without any self-consciousness. Thranduil had already made it clear that Legolas would not be allowed to return to the novice fields tomorrow or the next day either.  Legolas could easily accept the one-day absence.  He felt sore enough to be grateful for the break and tomorrow would be his nephew's naming day in any case, but he was already planning to ask one of his brothers to intercede if Thranduil tried to keep him home beyond two days.  He would go stir crazy if he had to stay inactive for too long.

"Adar," he said tentatively, and then hesitated.  Thranduil raised one eyebrow inquiringly, and Legolas took his courage in hand and asked what he wanted to know.  "How did you feel when you killed Karik?"

Thranduil blinked.  "Why do you ask?" he responded slowly.

Legolas faced him squarely. "Because you looked like you enjoyed it," he said.  Thranduil's face closed down and became inscrutable.  "I am not saying that you were wrong," Legolas went on hurriedly. "And I do not regret shooting the Man who was coming after Eilian with a sword.  But I did not enjoy shooting him either.  He was a Man, not an Orc."

"Karik was going to kill Eilian," Thranduil responded after a moment's silence.  "And he had already hurt you and would have done you more harm than you can even guess at."  He looked away.  Legolas was suddenly aware of the brevity of his forty-two years and of his father's millennia. "Men are not Orcs, Legolas," Thranduil went on, "but they can be evil, and this one was touched by Shadow.  If he had succeeded in taking you, he would have made your life a torment to you."  He looked back and met his son's eyes. "At bottom, he had threatened harm to my children, whom I love more than life itself, and, yes, I took great satisfaction in killing him."

Legolas suddenly found himself blinking back tears.  Thranduil rose, sat on the edge of the bed, and carefully, so as not to hurt the bruised and torn back, he took his son in his arms.

***

Ithilden ushered his father and brothers into the sleeping chamber where Alfirin lay propped up against pillows with the baby in her arms.  Thranduil advanced immediately to kiss Alfirin's forehead.  He had been in to see both her and the baby briefly on the previous night, but she had been too tired even to respond when she was spoken to.  Neither Eilian nor Legolas had seen their nephew yet. "Well done, my daughter," Thranduil said.  Then his eyes went to his grandson.

Alfirin smiled at her father-in-law, striking Ithilden to the heart with her beauty.  She had recovered amazingly quickly from the labor and would have risen to greet their visitors had not he and her mother both forbidden it.  "Would you like to hold him?" she offered, very generously Ithilden thought, for she had barely let their son out of her reach since he had made his belated appearance.  Thranduil took the baby carefully from her and settled into the chair next to the bed, his attention focused wholly on the elfling in his arms.

Ithilden drew near them, his eyes too on the little one.  He lay wrapped in one of the soft, multicolored blankets that Alfirin had woven for him, with only his face and one impossibly tiny hand showing.  His face was solemn as he slept, his lips working slightly, as if he dreamed of his mother.  Eyes that looked dark beneath their half-lowered lids flitted as he walked the paths of baby Elven dreams that Ithilden could only wonder at.  He reached out a finger to tentatively stroke the back of the miniature hand, and his son stirred slightly in response.

A knock sounded at the door.  I should answer it, Ithilden thought, but he did not move.  He could hear Eilian smothering a laugh.  "Do not disturb yourself, Ada," he said cheerfully.  "I will answer the door." He left to return immediately with Alfirin's parents and Tonduil.  Like Thranduil, her parents advanced and kissed their daughter and then immediately turned to focus on the baby.

Ithilden could hear Tonduil greeting Legolas and then tentatively asking, "How are you?"  Even in his current bemused state, that question struck him as odd.  Tonduil seemed to be suggesting that something was wrong with his little brother.  He glanced at the two of them in time to see Legolas shrug, his face impassive.  He would have to return to his responsibilities in the outside world soon, he thought with regret.  His father and brothers had all been absent last night when his son had finally been born.  Something had been going on, and although they had not told him last night, he was afraid he was going to have to insist that they do so today.

But not now.  Now he had something to do, for his and Alfirin's families had gathered to hear him announce his son's name.  He held out his arms and, reluctantly, Thranduil surrendered the elfling to him.   Then he turned so that everyone present could see the baby.  "Dear ones," he began formally, recalling suddenly that the last time he had heard these words, it had been Thranduil speaking them about Legolas, "Alfirin and I present to you the child who has been given into our keeping.  We ask your help and counsel in loving, guiding, and protecting him, and we pledge to use all of our own strength and wisdom to be adar and naneth to him."  He smiled at them, suddenly moved to joy. "His name is Sinnarn," he said, "for his life will be a new story to be woven with all the others in the song of Arda."

A murmur of approval swept through the room and then Alfirin's father moved forward to claim his turn at holding Sinnarn, and Ithilden found himself standing next to Thranduil on the edge of the little group. Ithilden smiled at his father wryly. "Will I ever feel normal again, Adar?" he asked in mock dismay.  "I can barely stand to let him out of my grasp."

Thranduil smiled back.  "I believe that that is what will count as normal from now on," he answered dryly.  He seemed to hesitate.  "I have something I need to discuss you, Ithilden," he said.  "And perhaps now is as good a time for us to talk as any, while Alfirin's parents are here to stay with her and would, perhaps, wish to have some private time with her."

"Very well," Ithilden said reluctantly.  Thranduil spoke politely to Alfirin's parents and then, signaling to Eilian and Legolas that they, too, were wanted, he led the way to his office where he waved them all into chairs.

"As commander of troops, Ithilden, you need to know what happened yesterday," Thranduil said without preamble and then launched into an account of events, with Eilian and Legolas filling in details when their father asked them to do so.  At first, Ithilden had to force himself to listen, for his mind was back in his own chambers with his wife and child, but as the import of their tale began to make itself apparent, he snapped to attention.

"I should have been told immediately," he asserted, dismayed at what had happened without his knowledge.

Thranduil shook his head.  "You could not have left Alfirin and did not need the additional worry," he said, and recognizing the truth, Ithilden turned to more practical questions of the future.

"I think we have to assume that the Easterlings are going to present a continuing danger," he said, feeling worried.

"This particular group of Easterlings will not trouble us again," said Eilian in satisfaction.  "They must have taken months to lay plans that are now in ruins. You are going to have to add warriors to the Border Patrol, though," he added.  "These Men penetrated our borders entirely too easily."

"Yes, you are right of course," Ithilden said, running his hand over his hair which was loose for once, for he had not had time to braid it.  He was thinking of Alfirin and the baby again.  His wife still needed what strength he could provide and it would be a few days before he was able to return to his work full time.  "Will you take care of that for me please?" he asked Eilian, suddenly very glad indeed that his brother was here and not in the south.

Eilian looked surprised at being asked but he nodded. "I will have to take the warriors from somewhere else," he said tentatively.

"Make some plans and then talk to me about it," Ithilden told him.

Thranduil rose, drawing his sons, too, to their feet. "We should return to our guests," he said.

Eilian laughed. "You mean return to your grandson."

Thranduil smiled placidly. "So I do," he agreed, and they began to move out of the room.

Ithilden was next to Legolas as they neared the door, and it occurred to him that his younger brother had been very quiet, giving only the information that their father had instructed him to give and volunteering nothing.  He rested his hand lightly on Legolas's shoulder and felt him tense slightly. "You did well," he said.  "Lómilad will be extremely pleased to hear how well you kept your head."

Legolas relaxed under his touch and looked at him gratefully.

"Also," Eilian called back over his shoulder, "he will be happy because he won the wagering pool over the hour of the baby's birth.  He said he remembered you as a novice, Ithilden, and was sure that the baby would be stubborn and slow in doing as he should."

Legolas laughed along with the rest of them and seemed a bit more lighthearted as they returned to the room where a slightly cranky Sinnarn was waking up and demanding to be returned to his nana.

***

Legolas hung onto his temper with a great deal of difficulty.  "I am not sure you should go this morning," his father was saying, frowning slightly.  "You are still not fully recovered."  They were standing in the hallway of the family's quarters two mornings after Sinnarn's naming day. Legolas had put on a heavier tunic for the first time since he had come home, although he had carefully donned a silk undertunic first, and he had been on his way out the door to the novice training fields when Thranduil had stopped him.

"I am well enough, Adar," he said as evenly as he could, "and I cannot stand to sit quietly for another day."

"Come on, brat," called Eilian, who happened to be passing.  "You will be late."  He seized Legolas's arm and propelled him out the door.  "We will see you tonight, Adar," he called back over his shoulder.  "Give Sinnarn a kiss for me."

Legolas waited until they were over the bridge in front of the palace before he said, "Thank you.  I was afraid that even if he let me go he would walk me to the training fields."

Eilian laughed.  "I still cannot believe he took you along when he went into battle.  That must have about killed him."

Legolas grimaced. "He is making up for it now," he declared in disgust.  He looked around at the fine spring day and suddenly felt how good it was to be alive. "Eilian," he ventured, as they neared the training fields, "had you ever seen Adar like that before?"

"Like he was with Karik?" Eilian clarified.  Legolas nodded. "Yes," said Eilian, "he was like that when naneth died, and he led the war party that went after the Orcs who killed her."  He smiled slightly at Legolas.  "No one touches those whom the Woodland King loves, brat.  And I think you are included."

They had neared the point where the novices gathered.   "It looks like Annael is waiting for you," Eilian said. "Make him pay you if he wants to see your scars."  And Eilian waved cheerfully and went whistling down the path, leaving a smiling Legolas trotting happily off to meet his friend.

"Welcome back," said Annael simply, and Legolas was deeply grateful for this friend who would listen to whatever Legolas wanted to tell him but would never pry where he was not wanted. They walked the last little distance to the novice fields where most of the others were already assembled.

Nálas appeared to be waiting for them, and Legolas was glad to see him. He had not had a chance to talk to the older novice since the two of them had parted at the ravine.

"How are you?" Legolas asked. "I hear you were struck on the head."

Nálas grimaced. "I am fine," he said, rather shortly. Then he grinned at Legolas. "Do you not get tired of being asked how you are?" he inquired.

Legolas laughed. "I certainly do," he agreed. "I am sorry. I should have known better."

Tynd approached and grinned at him.  "I suppose that is the last time that either of you will want to serve under me," he teased, and they all laughed and then formed into a ragged line as the novice masters came out of their hut and started toward the group.

Lómilad scanned the line and spoke briskly.  "There is one change in today's schedule," he told them. "The youngest group will trade with the oldest one and work with Penntalion in the archery fields today, while the oldest group practices unarmed combat."  Legolas blinked uncertainly, half suspecting that the change was being made on his account but then deciding that that was too self-centered a conclusion.  At any rate, he was grateful not to be wrestling under Maldor's supervision with his back in its current condition, and he moved promptly enough toward the archery field when Lómilad sent them to their appointed tasks.

The day passed quickly, as it almost always did for Legolas when he was shooting a bow.  He felt the upsurge of confidence that always swept through him when he could settle into this activity that he enjoyed and did so well.  As the spring afternoon was drawing to a close, Penntalion called a halt to their activities.  "That is all for today.  You three may go," he said indicating Annael, Galelas, and Isendir.  "Legolas, Lómilad wants to speak with you in his office."

Legolas frowned but did as he had been told and soon found himself knocking on the door of the novice master's office.  He had not been here since the morning after Galelas had tricked Lómilad into thinking that Falad wanted to become a warrior. He searched his conscience to see if he had done something wrong, but he could think of nothing.  "Come in," called Lómilad, and Legolas entered to find that Maldor was there too.  "Sit down," said Lómilad in a kindly tone, and Legolas nervously took the chair indicated, careful to sit far enough forward that his back did not touch the chair.

"Legolas," Lómilad began, "we asked you to come here because we thought you might want a chance to talk about what happened during the training exercise."  The novice master paused, as if giving Legolas a chance to say something, but he could think of nothing to say.  "We were the two masters who were with your group, so we know the kinds of plans you made and the care you took," Lómilad went on.  "We know that you were not careless. We have already talked to Tynd about this and told him the same thing."

"Thank you," said Legolas in some surprise. It had not occurred to him before that Tynd might have believed himself responsible for Legolas's capture, but now that Lómilad mentioned it, he could see how the older novice might feel that way.

Maldor cleared his throat. "We also wanted to tell you," he said, "that judging from what Ithilden has told us, we believe you did very well when you were in the hands of the Easterling.  You are a credit to the training."

Legolas stared at him, uncertain what to say beyond a second weak, "Thank you."

"Is there anything you want to ask about or tell us?" Lómilad asked, looking a bit exasperated at Maldor's rather stiff manner.

Legolas hesitated.  "I fell into a trap," he said, looking from one of them to the other. "I saw the child and the wolf, and I just acted.  Is there some way I could have known better?  Is there some way you can teach that?"

Lómilad nodded.  "We will be doing some training on that, I think," he said.  "It is part of strategy, and you all need to know it."  He eyed Legolas. "Also," he said, "we have planned to spend some time working on how to handle yourself if you are captured.  You did very well, Legolas, but the experience has probably taught you that it would help to know what to expect."

"I think that is a good idea," Legolas agreed.  "I would like it."

"Have you anything else you want to talk about?" Lómilad asked him.

Legolas shook his head. "No," he said, "I appreciate your offer but I have talked to my adar and brothers."

Lómilad nodded.  "Very well," he said. "You may go."  He and Maldor sat in silence as Legolas left the room.

"His back still pains him," Maldor observed dispassionately, once Legolas had gone.  "He did not sit back.  Did you notice?"

Lómilad nodded.  "He does not complain, though, and he really did exceptionally well when he was being held."

Maldor nodded.  "I begin to think he will be an outstanding warrior and a captain of inestimable value to Ithilden," he replied.  The two of them looked at one another and smiled slightly.  There were days when their work was very rewarding.

15.  Gifts

(May)

Legolas entered the family's small dining room to find his whole family already assembled, with the exception of Sinnarn.  Alfirin usually fed him and left him in his caretaker's hands to be settled down for an early morning nap before she came to breakfast herself.  They all turned to him with smiles, for it was his forty-third begetting day.

"May the stars always shine upon you, iôn-nín," his father said, rising to greet him with a kiss on the forehead.

"Thank you, Adar," he responded and slid into his seat.

It was the custom in Thranduil's family to give begetting day gifts at breakfast, and a small pile of brightly wrapped packages lay at Legolas's place at the table.  He picked up the package on top.

"That is from me," said Ithilden, and Legolas pried open the cleverly-folded paper to find a fine leather bracer for his bow arm.  A design of leaves wound its way around the bracer, picked out in gold tracing.  "A gift for a born archer," Ithilden told him.  "Penntalion says that I am very lucky that you will be on our side."

Legolas laughed. "Thank you," he said and reached for the next package.  When he had removed the paper, he found a bluish-gray silk shirt with abstract blue shapes rather like runes running around the cuffs and high collar.

"Hold it up to your face," Alfirin demanded and then smiled in satisfaction.  "I thought so.  The blue in the embroidery is the color of your eyes.  You will look very handsome in it."

Legolas felt himself blushing slightly.  "Thank you, Alfirin," he told her.

The last package turned out to contain a tooled leather box less than a foot square and perhaps three inches deep.  Inside were pens, paper, ink, sealing wax, and a seal.  It was a travel desk, meant to fit into a pack or saddle bag so that the one who carried it would have the means to write letters.

"That is from me," Eilian said.  "I expect you to write to me when you are off having adventures."

"Or perhaps sooner," Thranduil put in, "for I have a gift for you too, although you do not see it here."

"You have already given me Pilin," Legolas protested. "He was supposed to be an early begetting day gift."

"So he was," Thranduil agreed, "but you need a place to ride him to, so I have told Galion that you will accompany him when he goes to Esgaroth next week to buy goods."

Legolas blinked.  The idea that his father would allow him out of the Woodland Realm startled him, for protective as Thranduil had been before Karik took him prisoner, he had been doubly so since then.  He could not imagine what it must have cost his father to decide that Legolas should go with his steward on the next trip to Esgaroth.

Thranduil smiled rather thinly at his astonishment. "You have shown that you can represent me well, Legolas, and in that and in other ways too, you have earned the right to go."

Legolas rose from his seat and went to put his arms around his gratified father.  "I will be careful, Adar," he promised.  "You need not worry."

Thranduil patted his arm.  "I will endeavor to remember that," he said.

As he turned to return to his chair, Legolas intercepted the exchange of a triumphant glance between his brothers.  So, he thought in amusement, Adar had help in deciding to let me go on this trip.  Eilian saw him watching them and winked at him.

"I would like to make it known that this is very unfair, Adar," Eilian joked to Thranduil.  "You did not allow me to go out of the realm until I was of age, and I was far less trouble than the brat."

Thranduil snorted.  "Our memories differ," he said dryly.

Alfirin reached to remove the cloths that had covered two platters in the center of the table.  "I know that seed cakes are not really breakfast food," she apologized, "but Legolas likes them, so I had the cook make them anyway."

Legolas blinked.  It was ridiculous to feel teary eyed over something so trivial as seed cakes, he thought.

***

Legolas followed Galion through the crowded marketplace, trailing behind him as he went down the stairs from the docks to order items from the merchants on boats or stopped at the small stalls and shops ranged round the edge of the marketplace.  The Elves had ridden to within sight of the town yesterday, camped under the stars, and crossed the bridge into Esgaroth this morning, with Legolas blending in as simply one of the half dozen Elves who had accompanied his father's steward.  Given the looks that the town guards had given them, Legolas guessed that the fact that three of the accompanying Elves were armed warriors was unusual.  He assumed that it was his presence that had caused an increase in the number of Elven guards, but he said nothing.

Once inside the town, Galion had sent two of the other Elves off to seek out various goods that the Men would later ship to them by raft, and one of the guards had gone with them.  Galion had, however, kept Legolas with him and, while the two warriors following them tried to be unobtrusive, they were always in sight whenever he looked around.

Legolas sighed.  He supposed that his father had given him as much independence as he could bear to, and it would not help matters to be resentful. He ignored the guards and scanned the crowd curiously as Galion dickered with a cloth merchant.  Men and women pushed purposefully through the marketplace, stopping here and there to shop. Many of those who noticed him amid the press of their own business did not seem to be able to avoid staring at him.  He tried to disregard them, shifting his gaze out onto the dock near which he stood, only to find that a very pretty girl was eyeing him.  He blushed and hastily descended the stairs from the dock to the boat where Galion was still shopping.

He fixed his gaze on the merchant's goods and waited for the heat to fade from his face.  A tangle of color caught his eye, and he turned to a pile of brightly hued ribbons that were heaped on the merchant's table.  He fingered their silky surfaces, absentmindedly untangling a red one from the pile.

Suddenly he realized that merchant had moved to stand in front of him.  "Does your young helper perhaps want to buy some ribbons for his sweetheart?" he was asking Galion.  He lifted his head to see Galion looking at him inquiringly.

He turned back to the merchant and was beginning to deny any interest in buying when suddenly a thought struck him.  "I believe that I do want a ribbon," he said, with a slowly dawning smile.

"Which color?" the merchant asked.

Legolas looked at the ribbons again and found that his fingers had been acting wisely while his mind was elsewhere.  He pulled out the red ribbon he had been separating from the others.  "I think red," he said.  "This young lady seems to me to be someone who would like red."

"Excellent," said the merchant, accepting the coin that Legolas had now pulled out and offered him.

"Also," said Legolas, "can you tell me how to get to the house of the president of the trade council?"

Galion looked as if he wanted to protest but said nothing as the merchant gave directions. When the two Elves climbed back up the stairs to the dock, however, Galion turned to him.  "We are not going to call on the trade council president," Galion said firmly.  "We do not have time. Moreover, we are not expected.  A visit from us would cause a disturbance."

"You do not have to go," Legolas told him. "I will go by myself."

Galion rolled his eyes.  "I think not," he said.

"And anyway," Legolas went on, "I am not calling on the trade council president. I am calling on his daughter."

Galion looked at him in horror and Legolas could almost hear his mind working.  "Do not worry," he said, smothering a laugh. "She is this tall."  He held his hand at about waist level.

Galion relaxed a little.  "It would be as much as my life is worth to let you go by yourself," he said.  "But I suppose you may go if you take both guards."

Legolas looked at the two warriors in dismay but decided that this was the best offer he was likely to get.  "Very well," he agreed.

"Do not be too long," Galion told him.  "I will soon be done, and we will be leaving for home."

Legolas nodded and started off in the direction the merchant had indicated with both guards at his heels.  When he found the house, he stopped outside for a moment.  "I will not be long," he told the guards, and they nodded and drifted off to lean against a wall from which they could watch the house for his reappearance.  Legolas turned to the door and knocked.

The woman who opened the door was tall and blond.  "Good morning, mistress," he said politely.  "My name is Legolas.  I am a friend of Nitha's, and I wonder if she is at home." Before he had even finished speaking, a broad smile had creased the woman's face, and she had backed away from the door, beckoning him in.

"I am Nitha's mother," she told him, "and I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you, for my husband and I have both wished for the opportunity to thank you for what you did for our daughter."

Legolas found himself at a loss for words. "Nitha was very brave," he said finally.  "You must be proud of her."   These words were scarcely out of his mouth before the sound of running footsteps reached him and Nitha herself burst through a door from the back of the house.

"Legolas!" she cried, running toward him.  "I heard you!  I knew it was you!"  He laughed and held out his arms to her, but she skidded to a stop a few feet away from him.  "I want to hug you," she told him seriously, "but I do not want to hurt your back."

"My back is all better," he assured her.

"Let me see," she demanded imperiously.

"Nitha!" her mother reproved her.

Legolas hesitated only for a moment and then began to unfasten his shirt.  In honor of his trip to Esgaroth, he was not wearing his usual leggings and tunic, but loose trousers tucked into his boots and the silk shirt that Alfirin had given him for his begetting day.  He turned, crouched down in front of Nitha, and slipped the shirt far enough off his shoulders that she could see his back.  Small fingers ran over his muscles in a solemn inspection.

"It is all better," she admitted.  He shrugged the shirt back into place and turned to face her.

"I have brought you a present," he told her, "and if you give me a hug, you may have it."

She grinned at him.  "I would have hugged you anyway," she declared, suiting actions to words, "but a present is even better."

"Nitha!" exclaimed her mother again, scandalized.

Legolas laughed.  He had tried his best to forget most of what had happened in Karik's camp, but this little girl was worth remembering.

***

(June)

Eilian entered the palace garden to find that the rest of his family were already there. Already dressed in his formal robes, Thranduil sat in a chair in the shade of an oak tree, contentment written on his face as he watched Legolas, who was stretched out on a blanket on the grass playing with Sinnarn.  Ithilden sat with his arm around Alfirin, both of them smiling fondly at their son and his uncle.  Eilian greeted them all and then dropped onto a bench near Legolas, eyeing Legolas's laughing face with satisfaction as he did so.  His younger brother looked relaxed and happy, and not for the first time, Eilian rejoiced that Legolas seemed to have recovered well from what must have been a harrowing experience. The trip to Esgaroth had been good for him, Eilian thought.  He had come home looking more self-confident.

With a look of utter concentration on his little face, Sinnarn was trying his best to grasp one of his young uncle's braids, but at present, his hand was opening and closing an inch or so away from his target.

"I would not put a bow in his hand quite yet," Legolas joked to Ithilden, just as the baby succeeded in grasping the braid and giving it a mighty yank.

"Ouch!" Legolas cried, grabbing at his hair to rescue it.

Sinnarn crowed gleefully and grinned at Legolas, his arms and legs churning in excitement.

Legolas laughed and looked up at Eilian.  "I swear he looks exactly like you," he said.

"He looks like my adar," protested Alfirin.

"Of course he does," said Ithilden soothingly.

Legolas had now climbed to his feet.  "I need to go and get changed," he said. This morning, Tynd and Calorfil were going to pledge their faith as warriors of the Woodland Realm and three young elves were going to join the ranks of the novices.  Eilian remembered feeling great satisfaction when his own group of novices was no longer the newest among them, and he assumed that Legolas felt much the same.

"Give Sinnarn to me," Thranduil ordered, and Legolas scooped the baby up and deposited him on his grandfather's lap.

"I am going to spend the night at Annael's, Adar," Legolas told him.  "We are going to celebrate with Galelas and Isendir."

"Indeed?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow at him.  "Do you wish to take wine to share?"

Legolas froze for a moment and then cautiously nodded.

"Very well," said Thranduil. "I will have Galion prepare two skins of an appropriate vintage.  I suspect he will not choose the Dorwinion."  He smiled serenely and began jouncing a suddenly fussy Sinnarn on his knees.

"Thank you, Adar," Legolas responded rather weakly and then escaped into the palace.

Eilian laughed and leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Do you not wish them to educate their palates, Adar?" he teased.

"Not with my Dorwinion," Thranduil snorted. He frowned and lifted his grandson slightly off his lap.  "I am afraid he is wet, Alfirin," he said, eyeing the rather obvious wet spot on the front of his own formal robes.

"Oh, I am sorry," cried Alfirin. "Let me take him."  She rose and took her son.  "I am sorry," she repeated, eyeing the wet spot and laughing a little.

"Never mind," Thranduil said resignedly, rising to go inside and change. "Eilian once did the same thing to me just as a group of warriors arrived to make a formal report after a month-long patrol."

With what sounded like a strangled cry, Alfirin hugged Sinnarn to her and hurried into the house, followed at a more leisurely pace by the king.

There was a moment's silence.  "He does actually look a great deal like you did at that age," Ithilden finally ventured in a resigned tone.

Eilian laughed.  "Poor Alfirin!" he said.

Ithilden chuckled a little too and then leaned back to study the summer morning sky.  "She is incredibly beautiful," he sighed, "and she deserves better than me, but I wake every morning deeply thankful that she has not yet realized it."

Eilian smiled slightly to himself.  He had heard Ithilden praise Alfirin as beautiful on many occasions and always found it touching.  To Eilian, his sister-in-law was pleasant looking enough and she did have glorious hair, although she rarely wore it loose, but he believed that the beauty she wore in his brother's eyes was an effect of the love with which he saw her.

Eilian sat quietly for a moment, trying to think of how to bring up the subject that was now on his mind.  "She is recovering well from the birth," he finally ventured.  "And you seem to be less tired, too."

Ithilden brought his shrewd gaze down from the sky to meet Eilian's but said nothing.

"I have been home for more than a year now," Eilian went on, steadily.  "Do you not think it is time that you sent me back where I belong?"

Ithilden looked away and sighed.  "Are you sure that is what you want?" he asked.  "You have done a good job with the Home Guard.  Moreover, I like having you here and not just for personal reasons.  I value your opinion, and there is no one else I trust so well."

Eilian felt an unexpected flood of gratitude for his brother's trust and affection but found that they did not change what he wanted. "I need to go back to the south, Ithilden," he said flatly.  "In all modesty, I am very good at what I do there, and doing it makes me feel alive as I feel at no other time."

Ithilden ran his hand over his tightly braided hair and seemed to make up his mind.  "Very well," he said.  "I will see to it tomorrow."

Eilian blinked and let out the breath he had not known he was holding. "What about Adar?" he asked cautiously.

"I will see to Adar," Ithilden told him, although he grimaced a bit.

Eilian could not contain himself and jumped to his feet with a whoop.  Ithilden smiled up at him rather sadly.  "You had better take care," he said.  "If you come to harm, I will never forgive you."

***

Legolas stood with the other novices in a line that was much more tidy than usual, feeling pleasantly aware that he and Annael were no longer at the line's end.  Next to him stood Elrál, Tinéldor, and Elun, all of whom he knew from the weapons training that they had shared for years before he became a novice.  And all of them were now his juniors in the training.  His group had cleaned the warriors' stables for the last time, he thought happily.

He and the other novices were ranged along one end of the training fields facing his father and Ithilden, who stood at the other end.  Eilian stood in the shadows slightly behind Ithilden.  Between the field's two ends, warriors stood in two rows facing one another, with a wide path between the rows.  They ranged from the youngest, who stood nearest the novices, to the most seasoned warriors, who stood nearest the king.  Tynd and Calorfil both stood nervously just in front of the line of novices.

Legolas glanced to the edges of the field, where Tynd's and Calorfil's families and friends and those of the three new novices stood chatting in the shade of the rustling trees in full summer leaf.  Gradually, they fell silent as it became obvious that the ceremony was about to begin.

Lómilad had now stepped out of the line of warriors and begun to address Thranduil. "My lords," he said, "I bring these Elves before you, for they desire to serve the Woodland Realm with their weapons and their strength."

"Let them each advance," said Thranduil, and Lómilad signaled first to Tynd, who took a deep breath and then walked across the field between the two lines of warriors to stop in front of Thranduil and lay his bow and his sword at the king's feet.  "What is it you ask of us?" Thranduil asked him.

"My lord," said Tynd in a clear voice, "I ask to be allowed to join the ranks of your warriors that I might defend the realm and its people from whatever harm may threaten them."

"Do you pledge to use your strength to serve the cause of good and to give your obedience to the command of those set over you?" Thranduil asked.

"I do, my lord," Tynd answered.

Thranduil reached out and laid his hands on Tynd's shoulders. "Then we welcome you to our service and that of our people," said Thranduil.  "Take up your weapons and join the ranks of our warriors."  He dropped his hands and Tynd picked up and sheathed his sword and then shouldered his bow.  He turned to face Ithilden who grasped his forearm in a warrior's greeting.  Eilian too stepped forward, grinned at him, and clasped forearms with him, for both Tynd and Calorfil were going into the Home Guard, and thus, Legolas thought, would be under Eilian's command, at least for a few months until they had gained some experience. Then Tynd turned to walk back between the rows and take his place at the end of the line of warriors nearest the novices.

Lómilad signaled again and Calorfil began to walk between the rows of warriors to take his turn in pledging his skill with weapons to the use of the Woodland Realm.

As simple as that? Legolas thought.  The words seemed few for the life of service and self-sacrifice that being a warrior would entail in the evil days that seemed to be drawing ever closer.  Legolas glanced over to where Tynd's family stood and saw the mixture of pride and regret on his parents' faces.  Their son had stepped into his adult life today and the path he had chosen was a dangerous one.  Now Calorfil had finished, and he too had picked up his weapons and moved into the line of warriors.

Thranduil scanned the warriors from one side of the field to the other and then, at his signal, a minstrel began to play.  Strong voices rose from around the field and from the youngest novice to the oldest warrior they all joined in.  The song told of the harmony of the Greenwood that once was and, if their strength would prevail, would one day be again.  Legolas joined in too, knowing that he, like the others, had a part to play in the harmony.

***

Epilogue

(March 15, 3019 TA)

Legolas leaned against the ship's rail and swept his gaze over the chaotic battlefield that they were gradually nearing.  His keen eyes picked out the banners of the Rohirrim toward the north side of the field and, nearer to him, he saw the enemy forces that they would momentarily engage.  He scanned what appeared to be Men from several different forces and then settled on a group of strong-looking, bearded warriors, clad in grey and red robes with golden collars.

Something stirred in the back of his mind, and all at once, he realized that these Men had a familiar look to them, for they reminded him of Karik.   And all in a flash, that year of his youth came back to him, for it was the year in which he had first begun to be aware of the seriousness of what was happening in the wider world beyond the Woodland Realm.  He had met the Men from Esgaroth in his father's palace, and he had battled the Easterlings on his own in that small tent and then with his father's warriors as they drove those shadow-touched Men from the woods.

And mixed with it all had been the people and the smaller events that had been keenly important to him, although they would never catch the attention of the tellers of great tales.  He thought of Miri and his first explorations of the joy that can be between male and maid, and he thought also of Falad, who had truly loved her and been rewarded in the end.  He remembered Nitha, long-buried, with her own children and grandchildren to mourn her and now lie buried themselves.  He had seen Thranduil's enraged defense of those he loved and had felt his father beginning, with difficulty, to let him go on his way to adulthood.  He had watched Eilian struggle to defer his own desires in order to help Ithilden and seen Ithilden learn that he did not need to be the only strong one.  And at the end of that wonderful, terrible year, Sinnarn had been born.  Legolas knew that nothing is lost and that all of this had somehow helped to lead him bit by bit onto the path he now trod.

"Get ready!" Aragorn cried.

And Legolas was ready.  The time had come.  He would follow this Man into battle and, if he had to, he would sacrifice his own life for him.  With an effort, he shoved from his mind the thing he had already sacrificed when the gull had cried and his heart had begun to sing a new song of longing.

"Now!" shouted Aragorn, and his sword flashed as he leapt from the ship down onto the quay.

Now! thought Legolas.  Now!  And he, too, leapt to the quay and began to fire his bow, an action that felt as natural as breathing to him.  "Perhaps it is not just the bow that I was born for," he thought.  "Perhaps it is to use my bow now."  And he followed Aragorn into the fray.

*******

AN:  The tone of this story's last two chapters is very different from what I had first intended when I outlined the story in mid-May.  That's because up until about two weeks ago, I had intended to have Eilian die in the battle with the Easterlings.  Fortunately, Nilmandra (my beta, who, I believe, never did think I would really do it) and TreeHugger (who has experience in killing OCs) helped me come to my senses, and I realized that I just could not bear to send the charming flirt to the Halls of Mandos.  I feel as if I need to apologize for something, although whether it's for not doing what the story arc called for or for considering killing Eilian in the first place, I'm not sure.