Prologue

When the last Elves from Lasgalen finally took their leave from the forest that had been their home for countless centuries and boarded the ships for The Undying Lands, they sought to leave a token of who and what they had been. King Thranduil chose from his heart what remembrances he wished to leave so that man might not forget the time of the Elves. Likewise, many of his folk opened their hearts and offered works of art, Elven-crafted weapons that had seen duty through many ages, and writings recalling the days they spent under the trees. Thranduil chose the sword he had carried into the Last Alliance, the first bows of all his sons, and a shield bearing the crest of Oropher. From the library of the palace he chose hand-crafted books and scrolls bearing records of his people.

With a smile, he bequeathed along with all these valued treasures, the Book of Memories compiled by his nephew, Daeron, son of Tarondor, an accomplished storyteller and youngest son of his closest friend and brother of his wife, Her Majesty Queen Lalaith. All of these mementos did he leave in the safekeeping of The Library of Minas Tirith.

Hereafter are excerpts from the remembrances of a lively Elven childhood in the royal House of Oropher.

As The Scribe to His Majesty, King Thranduil, has said, "Arda will never be the same!"

As always, should any member of the MF (Mirkwood Force) team ( including this author) be caught or killed, the secretary will disavow any knowledge of their complicity, their ruthless savaging of Tolkien’s work and their blatant insertion of characters of their own creation into Tolkien’s world. This agency, at all times, acknowledges the rightful intellectual property of The Lord of the Rings as belonging to the Tolkien Estate, New Line Productions and anyone else who may own a piece of the pie. We (the author and the voices she hears in her head) fully acknowledge the Professor as the sole master of Middle earth. We (see above) are merely running amok.

A very special thanks to The Ranger Meckinock for her invaluable assistance in ferreting out plot holes. That ranger is a credit to her kind. Not even Aragorn had her patience and skill...nor could he wield a sword through a story as deftly as she does her blade, the sword Emily.

Never to be forgotten or unappreciated, a special thank you to Orophin’s Dottir. The Dottir is patient and encouraging, not to mention, a lot of fun. And she is the undisputed Queen of the Comma.

And just for good measure, a thank you to daw the minstrel for answering far too many grammar questions. And to Nilmandra (that sweet adorable child) for allowing me to post here against her better judgment.

Chapter One: They Deserved It

"What is he going to do to us?" I asked, hopefully, with an aura of confidence. Even misplaced confidence was better than none at all...sometimes. And it was a pertinent question, if we considered it rationally. We needed direction. If I could lighten the tense air of impending doom that had settled over my cousin’s chambers, we might hit upon some course of action that would garner some results...in our favor, of course. Certainly, we were in trouble, but this was not exactly a foreign state of affairs. We had blazed this trail before. Now all we had to do was explain why it was not our fault and hope Uncle was in a reasonable mood. I certainly hoped he was in a charitable humor on this day. In fact, cherishing this thought was my life’s work at that moment. "It is not as if he will throw us in the dungeon," I announced, with a fair amount of certainty, although one can never tell what Thranduil might do when truly angered.

Legolas’ head snapped up as if an unseen string was tied to the top of his head. "Of course, not. Do not be a fool, Daeron." He sighed heavily. "That would be too lenient."

Bravado, my enigmatic friend, was still clinging to my fragile resolve as I squared my shoulder at the indignity of having to suffer the fools who had been our target. After all, they were the problem, not us. Obviously, Legolas did not share my optimism that his adar would see things our way. He could be so gloomy sometimes--all too often with good cause, I am sorry to say. Only at first glance did we look guilty of a crime. We merely had to be sure Uncle got more than one view of what had happened. Uncle was the primary adult we had to sway to our way of thinking, but my older brother is also a difficult subject to lead. He has been sorely influenced by the king and has an annoying tendency to blame my attempts at confidence on childish bluster and the ill-conceived righteousness that only a dim-witted 30-year-old elfling can muster. Personally, I do not think I am all that dim-witted. I just call a worm a worm. "They deserved it!" I alleged, righteously, of course. "You know they did."

"What you and I know and what Adar will deem justice may be leagues away from each other," Legolas moaned. The look on his face stopped me cold.

Legolas had a point there. Perhaps my brother was right; I was just spouting hot air. It was not an idea that I cared to embrace, but suddenly, the worm turned, and my feelings of self-confidence waned to the point of being nothing more than a mere thread that suspended me over the hot coals of certain death. The most articulate sound I could come up with was to utter a pitiful moan. Legolas was right; the king rarely sees things in the same light as us. Still, had Thranduil no sense of justice where silly, puffed up elleths are concerned? It is bad enough that these two particular elleths are allowed to live, but to be given a free hand to torture us is surely going too far.

Isilya and Míriel are the misbegotten names their parents have given these terrors of the woods. How can you take two such ridiculous beings seriously when all they do is flounce around the Green, fluffing out their gowns as if bees were hiding in the folds and looking into the river every few minutes to adjust their hair?

We call them Fluffy and Flouncy. They think they are so grown up, being all of two years older than me and three older than Legolas. They started the whole thing. They always do, the little pris-pots. But, it is always Legolas and me who are granted a private audience with the king when they get what they deserve.

"Well," I started, hoping for a kernel of my previous optimism to take root again, "if we just explain to your adar..." Before I could plot any further on my tale of woe that would surely sway the king to our side, Legolas laughed out loud and rolled his eyes before flopping down in the chair before the fireplace.

"Daeron, you do not have the sense of a river rock."

I had to think about that for a moment. On one hand, river rocks are highly intelligent. They do what they are supposed to do, know their place, cause no trouble, and abide happily with the running waters. On the other hand, that is not me at all. Maybe, he had a point, even if I did not particularly like it. Since I had no viable defense, I sat down in the chair opposite him to think this through. Then, it dawned on me--I did not start this!

"You loosed the first arrow!" I yelped. He was, of course, first in line for guilt, by virtue of delivering the first blow. "You are the one that hit Fluffy."

"I admit," he scowled, "my aim was slightly off."

"Slightly off! Where were you aiming?"

"The hem of her dress." His eyes widened in mock disgust. "She moved!"

"I would say!" I crowed. "That was not where your arrow fell."

"And just where were you aiming?" he demanded, apparently not at all ready to accept all the blame.

That was a good question. My skill with a bow is somewhat debatable even on my most accurate days. Since my accuracy of arrow was not to be lauded, I thought I could surely make a good excuse. "At Flouncy!" It was an obvious answer. Not too heavy on detail, I admit, but it was generally accurate.

"Obviously," he quipped, not falling for my evasive explanation. "But where did you intend for your arrow to land?"

Very well. "At her feet," I told him, begrudgingly.

"And you question my skill?" he snorted.

I snorted back at him with my best disgruntled warg imitation or, at least, what I imagined a warg would sound like if his cousin were snorting at him. "This whole discussion has nothing to do with skill, but with who started the whole shooting episode," I told him, feeling pretty smart for figuring him out despite his earlier insinuation that I lacked the intelligence of a rock. "And now, we have to come up with something to tell your Adar, or we will not see the light of day until we come of age."

He snorted again. "Adar already knows what happened, Daeron. There is no way out of it. The best we can hope for is to live another day and to try and stay out of Fluffy and Flouncy’s path. It merely makes Adar more angry if we make excuses. Just agree with whatever he says."

I did not like that idea. The maidens still started the whole confrontation, and I saw no justice in going to the dungeons without, at least, a say in our defense.

While I pondered my next move, there was nothing to do but wait. When Aldamir, Legolas’ oldest brother, had caught us in the act, his tirade could be heard all the way to Lake-Town. With such a commotion as two screaming elleths, a bellowing commander of the troops and our noisy attempts to flee the scene, we were quickly joined by Aldamir’s second in command, Seregon, also known as my older brother. We were apprehended with little incident since we were out-weighed and out-elfed. They are such sticks in the mud sometimes. It makes me wonder if they were ever young. There has been no sign of it for as long as I have known them. So as to follow the customary procedure, we were hauled into the palace, told to clean up and dress appropriately to be taken to the king, then left to think over our crimes. Which was exactly what we were doing, but with the usual slant being directed at trying to figure out a plausible excuse. ‘They deserved it’ was losing its appeal.

"I know!" I exclaimed. "We will tell your adar that they besmirched his honor, and we only did what any good subject would do." I folded my arms in satisfaction. "We shot them."

Legolas shook his head. "We used that one last month, and as I recall, Adar was not too impressed with our methods of defending his honor." He leaned forward to catch my eye. "It only got us in more trouble for lying, Daeron. Do not cross Adar."

I threw my hands up in disgust. "Then what do we tell him? That we pelted the dumb elleths with our arrows because they just happen to be a blight on elvendom?" Besides, they were only practice arrows. They were blunted and padded and used only for form and aim, but they did put a sting on the receiving end if the recipient happened to be an Elf. It was all we were allowed except on the practice fields. Perhaps it was not the brightest solution to draw even practice weapons against the maidens, but it all happened so quickly that it seemed reasonable at the time. Suddenly, it occurred to me that all sharp objects may soon be a thing of the past once this was over. We may not even be allowed butter knives at meals. This could be viewed as something of an unforgivable transgression. It was not as if our masters had not spent a great deal of time telling us that weapons were not to be trifled with, even practice ones.

Legolas was no help. He merely rubbed his face with his hand and then straightened his tunic. Yes, it was plain to see; we were in serious trouble.

Before I could come up with any more bright ideas, a terse knock sounded on Legolas’ chamber door. Without waiting (as any polite Elf would do) Aldamir swung open the door and motioned us to our feet, which was unnecessary since we both shot up like our leggings were on fire. "Come," he commanded as if we were some of his troops. "Adar will see you now."

Like two beaten puppies, we followed him down the corridor of the family wing until we reached Uncle Thranduil’s office. Well, thank Eru for small favors. At least, we would not be dragged into the throne room for all of the court to witness our demise. My heart was pounding like a smith’s hammer as I brought up the rear. I should be used to these joyous little visits with my king and uncle, but I simply cannot seem to get past how those veins in Thranduil’s neck bulge out whenever he is angry. It makes him look as if he is on the verge of erupting like Mount Doom. Not to mention that the doors to his private office had suddenly taken on the look of the Black Gates. Not that I have ever seen the Black Gates, but I have a vivid imagination when I am going to meet with the Dark Lord of Mirkwood.

Aldamir knocked upon his adar’s door, and when we were given leave to enter, he motioned us in. Once we had cleared the doorway, he retreated and closed the door. Coward. One would think he would stay to defend his youngest brother and cousin. But he scampered out of there like a squirrel with a prize nut to bury. He would be sorry, I thought angrily, when he found our limp bloodied bodies stretched out on the floor of Uncle’s office. I hoped I would bleed all over his pristine tunic.

I was allotted little time to plot my bloody revenge as my eyes came up to see the king seated behind his intricately carved desk. One of the first things you learn in court is that the one in power sits. The ones facing sentencing stand like wind-battered willows waiting for that last gust that will take them to their knees. I refuse to grovel on my knees, unless Legolas does it first. I also noted that we had not been offered a chair. I braced my feet slightly apart so that, hopefully, I would not topple in the fury of the Storm Thranduil.

The king was uncharacteristically silent. That worried me no small amount. His fingers were steepled, and he tapped them lightly on his ever so gently dimpled chin. Calm gray eyes looked us over like two gamey hens that he could not decide if they were worthy of his pot or not. Slowly, he leaned back into his chair and clasped his hands at his waist. "Is there any explanation for this behavior?" he asked, quite calmly, I might add.

I started to open my mouth to tell him just what demons were living under the trees of our fair woods, when Legolas bowed his head and said, "No, my lord."

My mouth continued its downward trek, and I turned to look at my cousin. I could not believe this. No matter what he had said in his chambers, I could not believe that he was going down without a fight, without one word uttered in our defense. Cowardice must run in Thranduil’s side for surely it did not come from mine. I am not a blood relative of Thranduil’s. My adar was his closest friend from the time they were elflings. They fought side by side at Dagorlad. When Oropher was slain and Thranduil crowned king, Adar became his troop commander, overseeing the protection of the realm. It seems that Thranduil not only cared for my adar, but also had eyes for his younger sister. She is now the Queen and Legolas’ naneth. When Legolas and I were mere babes, Adar was killed in a fierce confrontation with a group of orcs near the southern borders. No one talks much about exactly what happened, but I think it was some sort of scouting mission that went awry. Since Aldamir was of age and had been serving the realm as a warrior for many years, he was promoted to commander. He appointed Seregon as his second. The king’s middle son, Erelas, serves as a field captain. I often think that Legolas and I serve merely as amusement, though the king was not smiling at that moment. With no support from my companion, I closed my mouth enough to be able to mumble, "No, my lord."

The king’s gaze remained fixed upon his son. "Look at me," he commanded. Legolas’ cheeks flooded like the dam of a glowing pink river had been released as he raised his eyes to meet his adar’s. "I cannot imagine what possessed the two of you to do something as ill-conceived as using your weapons upon two elleths." I, of course, could tell him, and as I started to do just that, he raised his elegant hand in warning. Once again, I closed my mouth. I admit it; I was frustrated that I could not tell my story, although looking back, I can see where my excuses were rather lame. "Nor," he continued, "should I have to tell you the dangers of such folly. You could have seriously harmed one or both of the maidens." He leaned forward to prop his elbows on his desk. "I cannot imagine the two of you do not know this." When we made no reply, he prompted us with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, my lord," we both intoned.

Very well, I would have to give the king that point; it was not our most brilliant solution. But the elleths still deserved our wrath. Surely he could see that. I could not let such an important point pass, without at least trying to get the king to see reason. Our choice of recourse might not have been the best, but recourse certainly should be addressed. "Uncle," I said, venturing into the troll’s den, "these two elleths are always calling us names and making all manner of fun of us. They have no upbringing," I announced, actually feeling quite proud of myself. I know how much importance Uncle puts on such things as protocol and proper breeding. He would surely see that his son, a prince of the realm and I (though I have no real title, I am blood related to his Queen) were suffering mistreatment of our stations.

"I see," Thranduil said. "Therefore, you thought it appropriate to behave as if you had been raised by orcs?"

That was not the path I thought he would take. "No, my lord," I said, trying to steer the sympathy back in our direction. "We were not. But it was appropriate to defend our honor." I could have sworn I heard Legolas groan. It was not the same defense we used last month! This was different.

A fist slammed down on the desk, and the vein suddenly came out of hiding. It took every bit of my meager courage to not bolt for the underbelly of the sturdiest piece of furniture in the room. "Your honor!" Thranduil roared. "What honor is there in attacking two defenseless maidens because they have teased you? What honor is there in taking up arms against another Elf?" He flung his arm wildly into the air. "What have your tutors been teaching you? Do you know nothing of the kinslaying?"

Legolas, as shaken as he obviously was, tried to calm his adar and take another course of action. "Yes, Adar, we do know. And it was, indeed, something to never be repeated. We have no defense for our behavior. We were wrong. We can only beg your pardon and forgiveness."

Well, that left me with little to say.

"It is not me from whom you should seek pardon, but the maidens and their parents." He leaned forward again, just for dramatic effect, I suppose. "And this you will both do. Today. Aldamir is waiting for you. As you leave me, you will go to the maidens cottages and beg the forgiveness of these two and their parents. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my lord," we both bobbed in unison. My stomach was churning as if I had eaten sour persimmons. Apologize! The Valar might as well have gone ahead and struck me down. I do not know why I was surprised. It is the kind of thing that Thranduil would do to make our lives even more miserable. Was it not bad enough that we had to live in the same forest as two creatures from the bowels of Arda? But to have to beg for their forgiveness was almost more than I could bear.

With a grand flourish, he rose like a sea creature from the depths. "Do not ever let anything like this happen again. I will not tolerate it. If the two of you should ever repeat such a transgression, the penalty will be severe beyond your reckoning. Now not only will you set to rights your transgressions with the maidens, but you will then retire to your chambers and stay there except for meals, lessons and training for the sum of two weeks. You will not visit between one another and will see each other only at those times which I have just appointed." With a look far too smug for my liking he added, "Your naneths will also wish to speak with you." Though he did not say it, I could see the thought sitting with satisfaction in his head; he was glad to not be in our shoes when that time came. With the flick of a wrist, he ordered, "Go."

As we started to leave, he stopped us. "One more thing. You will have no weapons in your possession outside of training. Give them to Aldamir."

That would kill Legolas. He is so attached to his bow, I would not be surprised to find out that he sleeps with it. I can do without my bow. I am just passing good with it anyway, though my recent performance would belie the fact that I had ever picked one up. But my knife! It is like an extension of my arm. For as long as I can remember, I have been intrigued with the feel of a blade, the song it makes as it cuts through the air, the sturdy weight of it in my hand and against my thigh. The fact that I am exceptionally good with a knife came as no surprise to my naneth. She has been taking them away from me for as long as I have had memory. While it is true that my knife is so dull that it would cut hot jam only with brute force, it is mine, and I had no inclination to be parted from it. And I do sleep with my knife. I would not get a wink of sleep for two weeks. Feeling tears welling in my eyes on behalf of both us, I nodded, just as I suppose Legolas did, though I dared not cast a glance to him for fear I would break down and wail like a baby.

Just as Uncle said, Aldamir was waiting in the corridor, along with the posted guard and much to my dismay, my brother. Once again, Aldamir spread his hand out in invitation for us to make our way to the Great Doors. I had never noticed all this hand waving before. Were we suddenly plagued with a bevy of gnats or some other fell insect that must be swatted from our path? To our misfortune, I knew that was not the case. It was a show of the power they wielded over their inferiors. My face burned with indignation; I did not like being the runt of the pecking order.

Once we had cleared a distance from the guard I turned to Seregon, highly irritated that he had come along to watch his only brother be humiliated at the hands of our tormentors. "What are you doing here?" I demanded, as though I had some right to make demands. Never show weakness. That was my motto. I could not let Seregon think that his unnecessary presence had gone unnoticed or that I would give in to the pressure of him towering over me. "Should not you be counting bread crumbs or something useful?"

The hand that hauled me up by the arm was so fast that I did not even come close to dodging it. The toes of my right foot barely touched the floor. I had apparently touched on a sore spot.

"Careful, little one," he snarled, his lips spread thinly over his teeth. He had a slightly demented look about him that immediately made me wonder at the wisdom of my not-so-innocent inquiry. "You have trod on dangerous ground already this day, and I will not hesitate to take you in hand myself." Suddenly, he shook my arm until the power of the motion reverberated all the way through my body. My teeth clattered like dry bones. "Do you think of no one but yourself? How do you think it makes Naneth feel when you are hauled before the king more often than the worst miscreant of the realm? If you do not learn to curb your appetite for mischief and unguarded words, you will find that I know how to wield a quiver strap over your backside."

I drew back as far as I could while still dangling like a hooked fish. As a rule, Seregon is pretty dull, but not cruel. Never have I heard of an Elf beating an elfling. Surely, he was not serious. He looked serious. My fear got the better of me, and I struggled against his grip. "Let me go! You would not do that. Naneth will not allow it. Uncle will not allow it. You are just trying to frighten me."

"Do not be so certain, Daeron," he growled. "There is a first time for everything, and we all weary of your foolishness."

Aldamir laid a calm hand on the shoulder of my irate sibling, and that was all it took. Seregon released me with such suddenness that I stumbled several steps before I could gain my footing. There was no doubt that I had a look of disbelief carved on my face, but when I looked at Legolas, I knew that Seregon had been as angry as I had thought. My cousin had the look of a deer that had just realized that the nice hunter with the bow had not dropped by to compliment him on his antlers. "Come," Aldamir commanded in his best I am in charge here voice. "The hour grows late, and I have more tasks than this to complete before evening meal."

I thanked the Valar that Aldamir was on hand to stop Seregon from shedding blood. Mine, to be specific. Seregon and Aldamir are of the same age and are as close as Legolas and I have ever been. They have been serving the realm for far longer than Legolas and I have been alive. In reality, they were serving for a long time even before we were even thought about. Not only is Aldamir Seregon’s commander, which gives him authority over his underlings, namely my brother, he is far less inclined to go off like one of Mithrandir’s fire shows than Seregon. I suppose it could be said that Seregon has a short fuse, at times. I have a knack for lighting it. It is a talent, I suppose. Aldamir has a fuse, too, but it takes a bit more fire to light his. I can bear witness to it. It happens. As it turns out, when one is igniting into a fiery ball, the other is usually fairly calm. This day was Seregon’s turn to shine.

Since my tunic was now bunched up nearly over my right ear, I took hold of what little dignity I had left, righted my askew clothing and fell in behind.

We crossed the Green and the bridge, then turned right onto the path that led to Míriel’s cottage. I tromped along (unhappily, I might add) watching the well worn path. Occasionally, I glanced over to Legolas, but he seemed intent on the job of just getting one foot in front of the other. Far too soon, we came upon a small clearing that sat in front of several neat cottages. The trees whispered in the breeze, and I swear they were chuckling at our predicament. Flowers stood tall and small in a riot of color and fragrance. A few honey bees buzzed lazily around their upturned faces. The rich smell of loam and wood, late summer and coming evening, lingered like the perfume of a beautiful life. It was a lovely day to die of humiliation.

We stopped at the second cottage and after a not-so-gentle nudge from our wardens, Legolas and I stepped toward the cottage’s stoop. I watched in complete horror as Legolas rapped gently on the door. Without a second thought, I took a half step back, leaving my younger cousin to take the lead. Míriel’s mother answered. "Legolas! Daeron!," she smiled with far too much gratification, I thought. I would avow, she was expecting us. Over our heads she nodded to the two older Elves waiting at a discreet distance. "My Lords," she smiled.

"My Lady," Legolas said, his voice clear, but obviously lacking in real enthusiasm. I, of course, took this as a moment to start practicing guarding my tongue. "Daeron and I wish to offer our sincere apologies to you and to Míriel for our behavior earlier today. We behaved foolishly and unkindly, and we are most regretful. I beg you to accept our apology."

With that nice neat little speech finished, she opened the door wider until we could see a smug Míriel standing just to her back. Her eyes gleamed like a snake that had just spotted a plump little mouse that had no idea he was going to be a between-meal bite. Her whole body drew up to give the illusion of being far above such little elflings as these pathetic excuses who stood on her doorstep. With a terse flick of her hand, she swept her hair over her shoulder.

"Míriel," her mother said, "Legolas and Daeron have come to apologize."

Míriel’s mouth slanted into a smirk that would give Eru the chills and nodded her head. True to form, she then fluffed out her dress until the folds were draped just right. "As well they should," she quipped. With another regal dip of her chin, she smiled as if the mouse had indeed been a pleasant treat and said tonelessly, "Apology accepted."

Míriel’s mother turned back to us. "I realize that your youth sometimes precludes thinking through actions, but I hope the two of you will think twice before doing such a thing again. It was a very dangerous thing to do. As it was, no one was hurt, and this is best forgotten."

Míriel gasped as if someone had just sucked all the wind out of her bodice. "Not hurt!" she shrilled. "I have a most unbecoming bruise in a most delicate place!"

I wanted to burst out laughing, but even I am not that dumb. Still, I took great satisfaction in knowing that she would think of us every time she sat down.

Her mother held up her hand to stay her indignant offspring. "As I said, there is no serious damage done, and this is best placed behind us."

Legolas had gone from pale as a wraith to red as a glass of Darwinion. I did not know if he was dying to laugh, too, or if he was merely dying a slow and painful doorstep death. "Thank you, my lady," he stammered, bowed his head and stepped back. I followed suit, and then nearly ran to the safety of our brothers, who might be angry, but they would never allow Míriel to gut us with a shrill tirade. She really did deserve it. Perhaps not an arrow, but something that would wound her dignity as she had been gifted with an overabundance of self-regard. Mud might have worked nicely. That would have perturbed her and made her dress difficult to fluff out properly. Oh, how I wished it had been mud. I bemoaned the loss of my knife once more for good measure.

Grateful that the cottage door had closed and we had completed the task of groveling at one maiden’s doorstep, I stood stock still trying to regain my bearings. I was not finished when Seregon poked me between the shoulder blades to get me started on down the path to Isilya’s cottage.

Her father is one of the King’s personal guards, and we see him often standing around the Great Hall or at the door of Uncle’s office. It is hard to say what kind of Elf he is. He does not exactly chatter with us as he is on duty when we usually see him. But I imagine he has to be a fairly good warrior to be one of the King’s personal Fifteen. The Fifteen are hand selected by Thranduil, Aldamir and Seregon, but mainly by Thranduil. Most of them have been with the King since long before any of us were born anyway, so there is not much selecting going on. You probably have to die to get out of that duty. As far as command goes, they are officially under the command of Aldamir, as he is the commander of all the troops, but in reality, they answer only to Thranduil. They are a fierce bunch and not subject to being much fun. I do not think even Aldamir would cross them. It is a given that Legolas and I try to stay out of their way. It is another rule of mine that one does not willingly anger an Elf with a sword.

Isilya is a quieter elleth than Míriel. It seems to me that Míriel is the one who always cooks up their little plays against us, but Isilya tags along and does nothing to prevent her friend from setting into motion whatever devilment springs out of her deranged head. I even think there are times when Isilya feels bad for us, but Míriel is so busying fluffing that she never notices. All in all, I think if Isilya was not in the company of Fluffy, she might not be so bad, as far as elleths go. Still, she keeps bad company, and so it is the case that she is tainted twice: by her association with Fluffy and by the fact that she is an elleth. She cannot help the elleth part, but I do wish she would lose the excess Fluff.

How this place was ever called Greenwood the Great, I’ll never know. If it was so Great, then why was it that it took so few steps to arrive at our accursed destination? It should have been called Greenwood the Hop, Skip and a Jump. Mirkwood was far more appropriate at that moment. When we reached Flouncy’s cottage, Seregon took me by the arm again and turned me around to face him. "Since Legolas made the last apology, it is only fitting that you offer this one."

"What was wrong with the way he did it?" I asked, honestly curious as to why Legolas would be removed from his position as chief talker when he did such a fine job the first time.

"There was nothing wrong with the way he did it," Seregon snapped, his eyes having that dangerous glint that I knew bode ill for me. "He has done his duty, and now you will do yours."

"What!" I cried, unable to back down from the challenge even though he did wear a sword. "Was I not here? I did my duty."

His hand closed over my forearm like a steel grip, as he snatched me close enough to look straight down into my eyes. "You will offer the apology this time, Daeron, and I will brook no more of this foolishness. You will not hide as a coward behind your younger cousin’s back." He gave me a gentle shove as he released me. "Now go."

With nothing else left for me to do other than obey or be slaughtered with a quiver strap, I kicked up as much dust as I could until I reached Flouncy’s door. With Legolas at my side, I chanced a glance over at him and saw that he looked on the verge of losing his last meal. I hate to admit it, but I did feel a little guilty about letting him do all the hard work. But he is the King’s son after all, I told myself, and far more is expected of him in the area of diplomacy; the practice would not hurt him. As I looked into his eyes, I did find myself suddenly feeling a bit protective of him. He is younger. So I did what any self-respecting senior relative would do and took the lead.

When Isilya’s mother came to the door and after I had thanked Eru excessively that her father did not, I repeated Legolas’ speech word for word. Why not? It was a good one. Isilya came forward, but said nothing. She merely nodded her head, looking nearly as embarrassed as we did. When everything was said and done and all grievances settled, Legolas and I returned to our brothers for the trip back to our prison for the next two weeks.

After a hasty gathering of our weapons and their surrender to Aldamir, I did not see Legolas again until evening meal. I did, however, see my naneth. And heard her. My naneth has a wicked tongue when provoked, and she repeatedly pointed out that I had provoked it. I would never admit it to Legolas, and I would rather bleed to death slowly than let Seregon know, but she can still bring me to tears. When she was finished with me all I could do was hiccough. She reeled me in for the kill when she went on and on about how disappointed my adar would be in me that I had been so careless about something as serious as the sacred trust and skills of a warrior. I want to hear anything anyone is willing to tell me about my adar, but that is not one of the things I usually have in mind. I sorely miss an Elf that I can remember nothing about, not even how he looked. I have to admit, I am often slightly jealous that Legolas has his adar. Not that I want anything to happen to Thranduil, nor do I want Legolas to be without his adar; I just wish I had mine. Despite the fact that Thranduil is the one who usually doles out my punishment, I know he does so as not only king, but also as a stand in for his best friend and his wife’s brother. That is what my naneth says, anyway. She says it is because Thranduil loves me like one of his own sons. I suppose that is true since I get the same punishment as Legolas when we get into trouble. I wonder sometimes if he feels guilty about how adar died. Naneth says that Thranduil feels a great responsibility for everything that happens in his realm. It seems to me that since adar was under the command of Thranduil at the time he died, then Uncle would feel bad about whatever it was that he sent him to do. I feel nearly as bad for Uncle as I do for Seregon and me...and Naneth, too. We are all without Adar now.

Then we got to the trust issue. Naneth certainly knows how to drive a point home. If Thranduil can deliver a scathing sentence, she can make it seem like a holiday. When the Elves were awakened, did the Valar immediately gift naneths with the ability to shame their children to within an inch of their lives? Very well, I deserved it, but I did not have to like it. "Trust," she said, "is something that takes ages to build and only a second to destroy for all eternity." My seconds were building up, she pointed out. How could Aldamir allow me into the novices next year if I could not be trusted to handle a weapon with the proper respect? I had not thought of that. I wish I had, and I would not have shot Flouncy. There is nothing I want more than to be a warrior. It is all I have ever wanted. It is all Legolas has ever wanted. What good is a knife wielding baker? And who wants to bake muffins for the rest of his life? Not to mention, for an Elf that is a very long time to poke blueberries into batter. The thought that I might not be allowed to cut anything other than slices of bread brought me nearly to tears again. This new show of remorse brought Naneth to the responsibility part. I swore on a letter opener (since it was all I could get my hands on) that I would not ever do anything so foolish again. I would be responsible. I would be trustworthy. I would not shame Adar ever again.

"Do you think Adar can see me from the Halls of Mandos?" I asked, feeling terribly sick at my stomach that this Elf I idolize in absentia might have seen the whole sordid affair where I had dishonored him.

Naneth smiled sadly and said, "I think he would be very proud of you right now, Daeron. It takes a very strong young Elf to admit his mistakes and to do all within his power to correct them. It is most important that one learns from his errors and does not repeat them."

I assured her I had learned my lesson. It was true. I would never point a weapon, no matter how blunted, at another Elf, even if I did consider them the enemy. Next time, I would rise above the occasion and walk away...or throw mud.

The only good thing to come out of it was that she hugged me close, dried my leaky eyes, and kissed me gently on the forehead. Not that she did not hug and kiss me regularly, she did. But I rarely appreciated it unless I was in fear that she no longer loved me. I worried about that a lot, but it always seem to slip my mind until I was standing before her sniffling like a cranky babe. I pledged an oath to myself that I would remember.

By Legolas’ red-rimmed eyes at evening meal, I would say the Queen did her duty as the Valar-gifted naneth, too. He could barely eat. But, he did with Thranduil watching every bite that went into his mouth.

The whole meal passed from misery into wretchedness, and I was grateful when we were, at last, excused to go to our chambers. My naneth and I share an apartment of two bedrooms with a sitting room between. Thankfully, Seregon has chambers down the corridor and around the corner. At least I could avoid him. With little else to do, I put on my night clothes and climbed into bed. That is not to mention that I felt like pond scum. Oh, how I missed my knife. I must have begun to drift off fairly soon, as all the apologizing and crying had left me far more tired than I had realized. My door was slightly ajar to let in the light of the sitting room lanterns, and so I could hear the soft stirring my naneth made as she walked around the room and shuffled things about. I thought I heard a soft knock to the door, but I was too far headed into sleep to know for certain or to care. I heard soft voices in a conversation that mainly consisted of my naneth telling someone something that I imagined they may not have wanted to hear. I thought this because she was using the same tone of voice she had used with me earlier when she wielded her gift from the Valar. I was too tired to investigate. Within a few minutes, I felt the bed sink slowly at my side, but I had no strength or will to open my eyes completely and focus, so I just stayed quiet and still. A hand gently pushed my hair from my forehead and a soft kiss was planted there. I choked up again as I heard Seregon whisper, "I am sorry, little one. I am too impatient and promise to guide you better. I love you, little brother."

Chapter Two: News

After two weeks of milling about my chambers, I was on a first name basis with every leaf woven into my carpet and every crack in the stone walls. I was on the verge of a complete break with reality. Autumn was approaching, and the leaves had begun to show the subtle signs of preparing to blaze into all their splendor, but the only time I got to see them was the three hours we spent daily on the practice fields. I had not climbed one tree or run through the woods playing. No, not once. There had been no fun in the king’s halls at all. None.

Legolas and I spent four hours every morning with our dour old tutor, Borgil, ate midday meal and then, went off to the practice fields. After practice, we went straight to the dungeons our parents called our chambers and did the lessons Borgil was thoughtful enough to pile on us. We had all manner of extra time, he pointed out. I translated enough Dwarvish and Quenya to write a book in both languages. I did suggest somewhere around the middle of the first week that he should embellish our knowledge of this fair Dwarvish language with some color, just for fun, of course. He merely looked at me as if I had sprouted horns and went back to assigning more paragraphs to be translated by the next morning. I drew maps of everywhere anybody had ever been, memorized the names of people that were so long dead that the names even felt dusty in my mouth and figured enough numbers to have an accurate record of every leaf in the forest. It was a good thing Uncle had us give our weapons to Aldamir, or I might have slit my throat. Somewhere around the second week, I pointed out at an evening meal that I did not recall Uncle sentencing us to the life of a scholar. For some reason, all the adults found this humorous. I was dead serious.

On the morning of the fourteenth day (and I was counting) I had high expectations when I trotted off to morning meal. I fidgeted, exchanged glances with Legolas every few seconds and ate heartily just to show them that I was well adjusted and properly repentant. Uncle said not a word about releasing us from our doom. All the adults sipped tea, ate their meals and chatted merrily about subjects I found as interesting as Lúthien and Beren. How much more dull can one get than memorizing Lays about gushy love stories? I did not think anything could be worse until I sat through this meal.

Just as I was on the verge of standing up and screaming, "What about us?", a knock came to the door of the family dining room, and a guard slipped in. He bowed to the king and queen and then turned to Aldamir, placing his hand over his heart in formal salute. "My lord, forgive me for interrupting your meal, but a missive has been delivered for you. It was requested that it be placed into your hands immediately."

 "Who brought this to the palace?" Aldamir asked, as he took the sealed letter from the guard.

 "Galenas, my lord."

We all knew who Galenas was. He is the second to Erelas, but he is not usually a messenger. That was intriguing. Not only did the guard interrupt our meal (something that never happened) but the messenger was a fairly high-ranking elf.

"Does he require a reply?" Aldamir asked.

"No, my lord. He has already left to rejoin his patrol."

‘Thank you," Aldamir said. "You are dismissed."

The guard bowed once again and scurried out the door.

No one said anything as Aldamir opened the message, read it, closed it back up and tucked it in his tunic. Then, as if this happened everyday, he took up his spoon and began to eat porridge again. I looked at Legolas and saw his eyes were glued to his brother’s face. There was nothing to see there. Aldamir looked as blank as a bare wall. Everyone else went back to eating and chatting.

"What did it say?" Legolas asked, finally unable to stand the suspense, I suppose. I know I was squirming around in my seat to know what was so important that it required the guard to come to the dining room.

Aldamir took the letter from his tunic, glanced at it and then tucked it back in. "No, it did not say, ‘To Legolas’. I suppose that means it does not concern you, little one?" He smiled then, looking very amused by his brother’s curiosity. "It is nothing for you to worry about. It is merely a routine communication."

"Then why did the guard bring it here? He could have waited for you in your office," Legolas said.

Thranduil shifted lightly toward his youngest. "Legolas, if Aldamir says it is nothing for you to worry about, then it is so. It is not your place to ask such questions."

From the look on Legolas’ face, I could see he did not want to let this go, and since Legolas is far from dull-witted, he was most likely considering the fact that pursuing the matter could easily raise Uncle’s ire when we were so desperate to be set free. This was a prudent consideration, as we both knew how Uncle felt about the thousand and one questions we could ask in the course of one day. Uncle would gladly answer questions all day long about why the sky is blue, why do birds sing, why do elleths wear gowns and any other inquiry we might have as to how Arda works. But, he did not take kindly to us poking around in the business of running the realm. However, like Legolas, I did not want to simply forget the whole thing, so I thought to spread out our inquires. It was always possible Uncle might slip up and tell us something useful, though I do not recall that ever happening. It was worth a tactful effort. "But I have never known a message to be delivered during a meal," I added for support.

Uncle merely gave me that indulgent smile he employs on occasion that says: you are either too young or too unimportant to give a straight answer. "Then you have not lived very long." Too young. It was the too young to understand smile.

Before we could devise further tactics to pursue the mystery, Aldamir stood and bowed slightly to his adar and placed a light kiss on his naneth’s cheek. "By your leave, Adar, I will await you in your office."

Thranduil nodded, keeping his wary eye (the one where he looks at us without really looking at us) on Legolas and me. Surely, they did not think they were fooling us?

Aldamir motioned to Seregon as he left. My brother bowed to the king, kissed Naneth and Lalaith and followed him out.

It was not a full minute later when Uncle stood, thereby getting us all up from our seats, with the exception of my naneth and the queen. They are exempt from standing when he does unless it is a formal setting, and meals are usually not formal unless someone important is dining with us, but then, we would not be eating in the family dining room but in the Great Hall. Even under such formal circumstances, the queen does not stand unless she feels like it. He motioned us back to our chairs and leaned over to place a quick kiss on Lalaith’s lips. He is something of an affectionate Elf when he is in the mood. As he passed Legolas and me, he dropped a soft kiss on both our heads and gave our shoulders a firm pat. He had almost passed us when he said, "You two have completed your punishment and may now return to your daily routines."

My heart leapt for joy! "Thank you, Uncle," I grinned.

Legolas smiled as if he had suddenly been given wings, which, in a way, he had. "Thank you, Ada."

"Behave," was all Thranduil added as he passed out the door. I was sure we would get another lecture before being freed, but this untimely message had, at least, saved us another round of hearing a list of our transgressions.

To our misfortune, we had not been completely saved. With wide silly grins on our faces, we both turned back to the table to find our naneths watching us closely. My smile melted, and my face froze like a pond in dead winter.

"I do not think I should have to speak to you again, Legolas, about your conduct. You know what is appropriate behavior," Auntie said, her eyes locked onto Legolas’ in a death stare. "The two of you," she said, sliding her ice blue gaze to include me, "will need to walk a very straight line. You are old enough to know better, and I will not have your behavior reflect poorly on this family. Whether you will it or not, your behavior is viewed differently than that of other elflings . It is watched and scrutinized. When you misbehave, it will cause talk. I will accept nothing less than what is required of you as a son of the king and you," her eyes drifted back to me, "as a future lord of this realm. Neither your positions nor your behavior are negotiable. It is the way it is, and you will conduct yourself as befitting your stations. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Nana." Legolas answered, his voice soft.

"Daeron? Do you understand what Lalaith has said?" my naneth asked. "She and I are in perfect agreement in this. Any more misconduct will be met with harsh penalty, and I assure you that you will not like it."

"I understand," I answered, feeling lower than a snakes’s belly. How was it that she could make me feel so wholly terrible?

"Now," my naneth said, "you must hurry or you will be late for lessons. After practice this afternoon the two of you may go outside and play for a while. Stay close to the palace. Do not wander off."

Neither Uncle, nor Aldamir, nor Seregon came to midday meal. Nana and Auntie Lalaith would say no more than they were busy. It was obvious that they were not going to tell us anything, so Legolas and I began to try to work out how we could find out what was going on.

The palace guards were always alert, but today they looked even more so. During our afternoon training, our weapons masters’ eyes kept scanning the trees as if they expected an army of orcs to come charging through at any minute, and they would not have anyone to fight them but a rag-tag group of elflings who were lucky to hit the target on their best days. I would not say they were nervous, as the only Elves I had ever seen nervous were Legolas and me when we were in trouble, but I would say they were on their toes. Something was happening. We simply had to solve the problem of how to get that information.

As we were nearing the end of archery practice, I watched Legolas line up to take his shot. Orocarni, our archery master, adjusted Legolas’ elbow, his anchor point and then ran his hand down Legolas’ back to ensure a straight spine. It is not as if we do anything fancy in our routines; it is fairly straight-forward technique, aim and delivery, but Orocarni is not one to allow us to be slack. He drills us repeatedly until we master each step. "There is no room for error," he stresses daily, which, I might add, depresses me to no end since I am prone to error in almost everything I do.

When Legolas had loosed his arrow and it fell with a swift and final dull thud, it sat perfectly in the center of the target eye. My grin was nearly as wide and pleased as Legolas’ was when he turned back to us. "Very good!" Orocarni said, giving Legolas a quick pat to his shoulder. "You are showing tremendous improvement."

"Thank you," Legolas said softly, but I could see that he was terribly proud. As well he should be. Though none of us was going to win any archery contests, Legolas far outshines any of the rest of us. He seems to possess some kind of natural talent. It is as though he can sense where his bolt should fall. Sighting the target seems secondary to him in knowing where to place his aim. As young as we are, he is extremely gifted. I was proud of him, too. I like to see him smile and laugh.

As another of our group stepped forward to take his shot, I noticed movement to the side of the field. Aldamir had settled himself against a tall beech to watch. This, in itself, is not all that unusual. He is responsible for all the warriors of the realm and keeping an eye on the future ranks is not unheard of for him. The funny thing was I felt he was eyeing two particular elflings on that day, and I had a sinking feeling that it was his two relatives.

While I was contemplating the presence of the troop commander, I lost where I was in line. Orocarni called my name. "Daeron. It is your turn. Daeron!"

I snapped back front and center and hurried to stand on the mark. As I nocked my arrow and pulled my bow up to draw, I felt Orocarni’s hands over mine. "Lift your chin slightly and sight down the shaft." When he was satisfied with my stance and anchor point, he stepped back. "At your will," he said mildly.

I could see the center of the target and tried to feel it, just as I thought Legolas would do without even knowing he was doing it, and let the trajectory of the arrow become the destination of all my senses. It sounds so ridiculous that I hate to even say it, but I wanted to become one with that arrow. It was a subtle feeling, nothing bone-shattering, but I could feel, as well as see, exactly where I wanted my arrow to land. I exhaled, drew in another calm breath as I pulled further back on my bow string and in my mind, traveled the distance with my arrow as I let it fly. I was almost afraid to look to see where it had landed, but the suspense was killing me, so I looked. There it was, solid without so much as a gentle sway, imbedded just slightly within the inner ring. Not a perfect point like Legolas’, but it was in the center! I wanted to whoop and holler, but Orocarni would have frowned on such a display, so I smiled my best I am an Elf smile and nearly ran to Legolas.

"Excellent, Daeron," Orocarni said, sounding every bit as surprised as I was. "Remember how that felt for that is the way you do it!" He began to pick up his equipment, and when he had gathered his bow and quiver, he turned to us. "A very good run today. Each and every one of you is showing great strides in improvement. The older you get and the more developed your muscles, the more swift progress you will see. If you continue to practice, and work hard on your form and aim, you will all be pleasantly surprised at how much improvement you will see over the next few years. You will truly be prepared to move into the novice ranks."

Legolas and I smiled at each other. I liked the sound of that. Novice!

Orocarni gave us a pleased grin and waved us on. "You are dismissed. I will see you all tomorrow."

Of course, the whole group was chattering gaily as we left the practice field. As Legolas and I started toward the path to take us home, Aldamir joined us. I immediately went on alert, searching my memory for what I could have possibly done in less than twelve hours since morning meal that would warrant the appearance of the commander. He seemed relaxed enough as he fell in between us and placed an arm around our shoulders. "How was archery today?" he asked.

Legolas turned to his brother, his eyes alight and his smile broad. "Did you see my last shot?"

"Indeed, I did," he smiled. "You are doing very well, Legolas. Adar will be pleased to hear." He gave me a quick squeeze, "And you, young cousin Daeron, likewise, I observed a fine showing from you. Excellent hit! You dropped that bolt as easily as butter glides over toast." He smiled even wider. "I am very proud of both of you. Keep up the good work." My chest swelled with pride.

As we traveled the path back to the palace, we talked a little about nothing terribly important. It was not until we crossed the bridge that Aldamir got around to saying what he had come to say. "Are you planning to come back out and play?" he asked, mildly.

"Yes, of course." Legolas chuckled. "We have been confined far too long."

"That is for certain," I agreed with a sigh of breath that felt like air from a dusty cupboard.

"Good," Aldamir said. "It is a lovely day to spend some time among the trees." He turned to us with a steady look. "Adar does not want you to venture any further than the grandfather oak to the west and no further than the little stream to the south. Do not stray any further into the woods."

"But, why?" Legolas cried out. "We are no longer confined. Adar said we could go back to doing what we normally do."

"Because that is what he said, Legolas," Aldamir told us.

"Are we in trouble for something?" I asked, cautiously. This was one of those questions that you desire to know the answer, but are afraid to actually hear it. And this confinement was a worrisome development since whenever we get reined in, it is due to some infraction we have perpetrated, willingly or not. Certainly, I did not wish to be in trouble again so soon.

"You have done nothing," Aldamir said and then added with a sly smile, "that I know about."

"Then it makes no sense," Legolas complained. "We have not been restricted to those areas since we were twenty."

Aldamir exhaled slowly. "You have two choices, Legolas. You may play in the area Adar has decreed or you may play in the palace. The choice is yours."

"They are not particularly good choices," I mumbled, but I did feel a certain amount of relief that this unexpected restriction was not due to some inadvertent misdeed on our part.

"Nevertheless, they are your only options," Aldamir told us as he turned to head toward Seregon and another warrior who had just exited the Great Doors. The three of them moved over to the side and were quickly engulfed in a quiet, but serious-looking conversation. So, that was that!

Legolas shot me a wicked stare that said he was most unhappy and started up the steps. I sighed heavily and followed. After we placed our bows and quivers in our chambers, then we would play in the baby area. This just plain rankled.

As we went into the Grand Entry Hall, passed the doors of the Great Hall and The Throne Room, we turned down the middle corridor to the family wing. When we were out of ear shot of the guards, I turned to Legolas. "What is this all about?"

Legolas shrugged. "I have no idea." Suddenly he stopped. "There must be something going on in the woods! Remember the message Aldamir got this morning during morning meal? That is what all this is about." His eyes widened like milk saucers. "You do not think that orcs have gotten this close to Adar’s stronghold, do you?"

I snorted and shook my head. "If there were orcs about, we would be locked in our chambers with our Nanas standing guard with the guards."

Our parents would never let us out at all if they feared orcs pressing this close into home territory. Then a more horrifying thought struck me. "What if it is spiders? What if they have come in droves into the nearby woods?" Oh, how I hate spiders. Even the little creepy crawly ones that live in the gardens. I try not to kill them because Naneth says they have a job to do too, and she says they are more afraid of me than I am of them. Personally, I cannot see that happening. They sneer and laugh at me when I break out into a cold sweat. I have seen them do it. I had rather face The Dark Lord, himself, than a spider. A chill ran down my spine.

One of the biggest mistakes of my life was to tell Legolas about my extreme dislike of eight-legged crawly things. Back in the spring when all the creatures of the woods began to stir in earnest, Legolas brought an old ada long legs to evening meal hidden in his pocket. When I was not looking, he put it on my shoulder. I have no idea how long it had been tromping around all over me with its dirty little feet, but I finally spied it as it ambled willy-nilly down my arm. This was one of those moments in my life that I would give anything to erase from memory, mine especially. My chair fairly flew through the air as I jumped up, swatting spastically at the horrible creature. When I finally connected with it, the back of my hand sent it sailing across the table into Seregon’s plate. At that moment, I thought I was surely on my way to the Halls of Waiting since I could not draw a single breath. Apparently, Legolas found my utter distress so amusing that he was falling out his chair laughing.

"It is just a small spider, Daeron," my naneth told me as if I had no idea what it was. However, we most definitely disagreed on its size. It was certainly big enough for me.

That was when I noticed that my entire family found the whole episode humorous. Aldamir had his face buried in his dinner cloth, but he was not fooling me; his shoulders were shaking as if he were having some sort of spell. Seregon was looking at the frozen spider sitting on his stewed fruit with his lips pressed together so tightly they had turned white. Naneth was not laughing out loud, but she had a grip on her midriff that told the true story. Auntie Lalaith looked every bit the queen, calm, collected and most likely counting the number of spoons on the table in order to maintain her composure. Even Thranduil looked ready to burst into peals of hilarity. And all this time, Legolas was all but rolling on the floor.

Seregon finally picked up the sorry little invader by one of his many nasty little feet and held him aloft. "There now, Daeron. You have frightened the poor spider out of his wits."

All I could do was pound my chest with my hand, still struggling to breathe, and croak out, "Me?"

Seregon rose (regally, I might add) from his seat and carried the spider to the dining room door and offered it to one of the guards. The guard, being duly sworn to obey, took the dangling offender by the same leg and walked toward the Great Doors to send him on his merry way, I suppose.

"Legolas," Thranduil said, with far too little authority, I thought. This was not the time to go weak in his reign. When his detestable youngest child did not cease his squall of laughter, he attempted once again to get his attention. "Legolas!"

Gulping air and drying the tears running down his face, Legolas finally squeaked out a weak, "Yes, Adar?"

"Do you know anything about this?" Thranduil asked.

"It...it was a spider!" was all my dear cousin managed to get out before he fell once again into his jolly little laughing fit.

"As we are all aware," Thranduil announced. "Do you happen to know how it came to be on Daeron’s arm?"

Legolas squealed as a fresh batch of tears spilled over and ran down his flushed cheeks. "It walked!" he screamed.

"Daeron, pick up your chair, dear," Naneth told me as if somehow all could be made right if I just righted the furniture. "And sit back down." Oh yes, I grumbled to myself, that would do it. Put me back next to the happy little Elf prankster. I picked up my chair by two fingers, inspecting it from top to bottom, side to side and underneath. Though I was not satisfied that no further danger lurked in some dark recess of carved wood and tapestry upholstery, I dropped it carefully upright. Only then, did I sit gingerly down on the edge of the cushion, just in case an entire clutch of spiders were waiting for me to sit within their reach. I remained a good two feet away from the table and as far away from Legolas as I could get without moving my chair to the other side of the room.

Thranduil was trying to gain some modicum of control at his table, but everyone was still on the verge of going completely over the edge. "Legolas, if you cannot control yourself, then I suggest you go out into the corridor until which time you can," Uncle said, clearing his throat.

This only brought a renewed fit of giggles to Legolas and, since he obviously could not control himself, he fell sideways from his chair, miraculously landing on his feet and laughing all the way out the door.

"Now," Thranduil said, "let us resume our meal." That was when he noticed that Aldamir was still buried behind his dinner cloth. With a barely disguised amused sigh, he turned to the commander of the fiercest contingent of Elven warriors in all of Arda and asked, "Aldamir, do you need to join your brother in the corridor?"

With deliberate slowness, Aldamir gently pressed his hands into his face and then lowered his cloth. Taking a deep breath, he sat up straight and placed the cloth back in his lap. That was when he made his mistake; he looked at me. His cheeks turned bright red, air sputtered from his lips and he rose quickly. "By your leave, Adar," he spat out.

Thranduil waved his hand in dismissal. "Go!"

My stoic, always-in-control cousin fled as if an army of orcs were in pursuit.

We lost Seregon then. He jumped to his feet, managing only to puff out a single word, "Uncle?"

"Go," Thranduil sighed.

That left me with only the naneths and uncle. Auntie Lalaith never even looked at me, she simply rose as elegantly as if she were greeting a visiting dignitary and announced with faltering calm, "I should check on the children." She stumbled slightly and swayed precariously, but was out the door faster than Aldamir.

The door had barely clicked shut, when my own naneth, the one to bring me into this woe-begotten world and overly happy little family, rose and muttered, "I should help Lalaith." She was gone.

We were a small party of two now, and I turned my gaze to Uncle to see how long he was going to last. To my horror, as I turned my head, a lock of hair fell over my shoulder. I shot out of my chair as if it had suddenly burst into flames and yelped loud enough to be heard in Dol Guldur, all the while beating my hand against my arm to throw off something that was not there. That was it for the good king. He stood, his carriage perfectly straight and his face a flushed but impassive mask. "I should speak to them," he said, as he calmly walked out into the corridor to join all the members of my family. It must have been a fine little family reunion for they all seemed to be having a grand time. The guards must have thought we had all gone mad. Since I was all by myself now, I glanced around the room and saw that one lone servant still hovered at the door of the passageway that ran to the kitchens. When my eyes found her, she nearly doubled over, clamped her hand to her mouth and melted into the shadows. I yanked my chair upright again and flopped down. "They probably want you in the kitchen," I snapped and crossed my arms. I could wait. Revenge, I am told, is a dish best served cold. He would never see it coming.

As Legolas and I stood in the corridor and contemplated the cause of our play area being inexplicably changed, he shook his head. "No, it cannot be spiders. They would not let us out then either."

No, I thought, pithily, as I relived that particularly ugly moment in Mirkwood royal history; he will never see it coming.

Legolas and I settled ourselves into the grandfather oak since it was the largest tree in the vicinity. Its voice was deep and reassuring as it muttered to us a warm welcome and offered the kind sheltering of graceful limbs that had carefully held elfings uncounted. I leaned back against the trunk and glanced around to see if there was anything that told of the forest being different. I saw nothing unusual.

Legolas had his cheek pressed tenderly against the truck as he stood on a limb to my right. His eyes were tightly shut and his breathing soft and regular. I have to admit that he has a way with the forest. I have one, too, but I rarely stopped long enough to hear the faint whispering. With Legolas along, I rarely needed to. "What does he say?" I asked, when Legolas finally stirred.

Legolas shrugged and sat down on the wide gnarly limb. "There is something disturbing the quiet of the trees, but this one has not seen what it is."

"Probably one of the reasons Uncle does not want us to go any further into the forest. The trees here know little," I complained, coming uncomfortably close to pouting. I picked up a small spotted beetle and let her walk up my finger. She seemed content and undisturbed by whatever had roused the Elves living in her forest. I let her down onto the trunk and watched her stroll further down the tree toward the ground. I sighed heavily and started to formulate a plan. "We will have to get the information from someone who knows."

"How?" Legolas asked. "No one will tell us."

"Maybe not intentionally, but you know that all the warriors are talking about it." I leaned forward. "Even the masters know. They were talking about it when they stood over to the side this afternoon during blade drills. I saw Orocarni talking to Ambar when we got to the archery field."

"How do you know they were talking about that?"

I shrugged. "It only stands to reason. Even though they were too far away for me to hear them, they looked very serious and kept sweeping the trees with their eyes."

"Training is over for the day," Legolas said as if pondering some great illumination. "The older novices have just finished and the masters will still be in their hut." His eyes lit up like a full moon. "We can sneak up under the window and listen!"

I smiled. "That is exactly what I was going to say." I rolled onto the balls of my feet and squatted. "We will have to very quiet or they will hear us." My smile widened into a silly grin of self assurance. "I can be very quiet."

Legolas laughed. "Then let us practice the stealth of an Elf."

We circled around using the small creek as our path until we came within sight of the masters’ cottage. It is a small two-room building that houses a central office for Melda, the headmaster, and a storage room where the masters’ equipment is kept. Melda’s office also serves as a meeting space for the other masters and is nearly always occupied at the end of a training day.

At the wide path that led to the training fields, we stopped, staying well back in the deep shadows. This is a fairly busy path, especially during the day as novices and masters travel from field to field. We had no way of knowing if everyone had already passed, so we hovered in the shadows as if we were on a life and death scouting mission. In some ways we were; if we were caught eavesdropping on the masters, we would not live long.

Legolas touched me on the shoulder, and after I had settled once again to the forest floor and my heart dropped back into my chest, he pointed down the path. Around the bend from the small sparring field came Orocarni and Galdor, the combat master, walking side by side. They were deep in conversation while moving briskly to the cottage. Neither cast a glance in our direction as they passed into the front of the cottage and out of our sight. I breathed a sigh of relief as Legolas relaxed at my side. We waited for a few more minutes and saw no one else except for a few older novices who were passing through on their way home. They had probably been on the fields with the two late-coming masters.

When all was quiet, I motioned to Legolas, and we scampered across the path like squirrels dodging foot traffic into the bushes that surround the cottage. Silently, we glided along the outer wall until we were under the south window of the masters’ cottage.

Legolas put his index finger to his lips to remind me of our need for silence. He is just plain brilliant sometimes. What did he think I was going to do? Burst into song about the two young members of the royal household that got caught spying on their masters? I made a face at him that properly communicated my feelings about his general intelligence. He responded with a pitiful lip snarl. He can look serious enough, but he is about as fierce as a puppy looking for his next meal.

We pressed closer into the side wall under the window and listened. Apparently, all the masters were present and accounted for. I could not swear to it, since I was not going to pop up and take a head count, but Melda spoke, and all the others in the room grew quiet.

"How did training go this day?" asked our esteemed leader.

"The older novices are progressing well and will be ready to take the oath of service in the spring," Ambar reported.

"And what of Gelmir?" asked Melda. "Has he found his confidence?"

"He has improved greatly," Ambar replied. "His handling of his blades has taken a new direction. He seems to be putting behind earlier misgivings."

"And his handling of the other weapons?" Melda asked.

There was no audible reply, so I assume everyone was nodding their heads in agreement.

"The youngest trainees?" Melda inquired.

"They remain an interesting group," Orocarni replied.

My ears perked up and I saw Legolas’ eyes widen slightly. This was our group.

"In what way?" Melda asked.

"We have spoken of their strengths and weaknesses many times." Orocarni said. "Still, with each day, I see new and interesting changes in them. Many are blossoming into Elves with great potential and others lag behind. It is too early to tell about some of them, but there are a few in whom I have noted some very interesting characteristics of late."

"Of whom do you speak?" Melda asked.

"Young Barahir is showing promise. He has begun to show good consistency in hitting his mark. He is finally beginning to open up. As he gains confidence, his skills with his bow are improving. He is particularly sensitive to the older elflings who have more skill, but seems to be coming out his shell. Legolas continues to show an amazing aptitude for weapons."

Legolas turned to me and smiled. A part of me wanted to grab him by his smug little head, but I have to admit, I was happy for him. He is good.

Orocarni went on. Some people just cannot leave well enough alone. "He lacks the discipline of his oldest brother, and only time will tell if he has the leadership abilities of both his older brothers. His close relationship with Daeron keeps them both suspects of trouble as they are often mischievous when together, but he is confident and for the most part, serious in his training. He is young yet. If he can rein in his mischievous nature, he will be a formidable warrior one day."

I could see by the look on Legolas face that he was not sure if he should be insulted or pleased. I could not help him there, since I had no idea either. My name had been dropped in a most unflattering way.

Ambar spoke next. "For as skilled as Legolas is with a bow, Daeron is equally as skilled with a blade." He chuckled. "If it were not inappropriate, I would inquire of his naneth if he were born with one in his hand. He carries it with an ease that I have not seen since his adar."

I could have died happy right then and there. I was like my adar? I knew he was skilled with a blade, but Naneth and Seregon rarely talked about these kinds of things about Adar. What I had gleaned about his blade abilities had been from small snatches of conversations and bare minimal answers to questions I posed. Suddenly, I felt as if hot tears threatened to well up in my eyes. Not now! I chided myself. While doing something we should not be doing was not the time to get weepy and sentimental. Not to mention, I had this sudden vision of Adar watching me from the Halls of Waiting again. I slithered down the side of the cottage like a slug going for the underbelly of a rock. I would let Legolas be the beacon for Mandos’ eye.

I was so immersed in my self-loathing and Adar-worship-fear, I almost missed Orocarni praising my earlier shot. That mollified me to some degree. I looked up at Legolas and saw he was smiling over his shoulder at me. Involuntarily, I returned his look of unmeasured glee. We might make warrior, after all.

The masters chatted for a bit longer about other trainees and novices, but I could not have cared less. I had all the information I needed. I fingered my knife with the most love I think I had ever felt.

Suddenly, Legolas poked me in the ribs and motioned to the window. Drawing myself up to his level, I pressed my ear closer.

"What word do we have on the intruders?" Galdor, the combat master, was asking when I came up from my spineless position of hiding in plain sight.

"Nothing much since this morning when I met with Aldamir," Melda told them. "The eastern border patrol has been reinforced with additional warriors as has the northern patrol. Aldamir has sent messages to the west and south to inquire if the patrols there have noted any signs of unusual entry."

Haluil, the woodcraft master, spoke next. "It is my understanding that the northern guard tracked the men for some time, but the intruders appeared to possess woodcraft skills beyond those of normal men."

Melda took back up the conversation. "It is true that these men have shown greater skill, but the border guards have large areas to cover and these men have been slipping in and out at points where the guards have already passed."

"Then do you think they have knowledge of troop movement and routine?" Ambar asked.

"I do not see how they could," Melda said, "but they could gain some measure of knowledge by simple observation. Aldamir has ordered all the troops to stagger their routines so there is no regular pattern."

"How close have they come to the Stronghold?" Galdor asked.

"Too close," Melda replied. "Evidence was found as close as the gorge to the south, just below one of the outer settlements and in the north, there were tracks that came within a league northwest of the Stronghold. They came through the forest."

A ripple of murmuring ran through the masters. A tide of fear washed over me. What would men want from us that would make them so bold as to trespass so far into Thranduil’s realm? It is not as though Uncle is fond of human visitors and invites them to drop in for tea. I looked at Legolas and saw he was deep in thought. I can only imagine what Aldamir had to say to his captains, after Uncle got through with what he had to say to Aldamir. This was a major blunder on the part of our troops. How could this happen? Our troops were the best. Did these men have some magic that made them invisible? A chill ran up my spine.

"As it stands," Melda went on, "we are all required to stand at ready to be called to reinforce our defenses should any incursion into home territory occur. These men cannot mean us well or they would not travel with such stealth. Aldamir feels they are testing the waters. They are attempting to see how close they can get without alerting us. If there is any threat, we are to get the trainees and novices to the Stronghold as quickly as possibly and then all others living nearby. But first, before all, get the elfings to safety. All other adults should be able to offer defense of themselves until help comes to them and they can be safely evacuated to the King’s Halls."

"Surely, these men do not think a small band can take on our forces even if they get this far. It would be suicide," remarked Galdor.

"Or a diversion," said Melda. "Aldamir thinks the men may be trying to draw our attention away from whatever it is that they are planning. Whatever it is that they mean to do, it stands to reason that it will not be where their tracks have been spotted."

"They are either very brave men or incredibly foolish," Orocarni remarked.

There was a pause in conversation as the masters apparently gave this some thought. Then Galdor said, his voice low and grave, "I would say that they are dispensable."

As the masters all muttered in agreement, I could hear the shifting of chairs and thought they must all be standing and that would mean that Melda had stood signaling the end of the meeting. I tapped Legolas on the shoulder and motioned off into the woods. Quietly, we turned and moved deeper into the shadows behind the cottage. Once we had cleared a safe distance, we quickly climbed into the trees and made our way silently back to the grandfather oak.

I did not know quite what to say when we settled onto our branches. Legolas looked as if his mind were a thousand leagues away or he was trying to decipher a passage of Common Tongue. (Now, there is a language that has no rhyme or reason! It is about as pleasing to the ear as a blade scrapped across stone.)

"It is men, then," Legolas said, finally breaking a silence that I was beginning to appreciate. It seemed a sound philosophy at the time to simply ignore what we had heard. Maybe it would go away.

"Do you think they mean to attack us?" I asked, my heart lodged so firmly in my throat I was not sure I could breathe.

Legolas turned his gaze to me. "I cannot say, but I think Galdor is correct; it would be suicide and surely these men know this."

"They are dispensable," I repeated. "But to whom? Who would want these men to draw our attention away from them? And why?"

Legolas ran his fingers over the broad bark of his limb. "Adar and Aldamir tell us little about what is going on, but I know that the shadow grows in the south." He looked up at me with more seriousness than I think I have ever seen in his eyes. There was something else, too, something I had never seen in him before. I do not know exactly what it was that had suddenly come to dwell in my normally gentle cousin, but his eyes changed, growing distant, as though he were looking right through me. He appeared intense and singular in whatever design he had set his thoughts upon. It made my blood run cold. As if suddenly springing to life, I felt a surge of some odd emotion that I had never felt replace my surprise at his anger and took hold of it as if my very life depended on it. Indeed, I suppose it did. Without thinking, I fingered the dull blade at my waist. "You know this, too," he said softly.

I nodded my head. Never had I felt so many conflicting emotions. I was terrified at the thought that some real danger was stalking us. I was furious at the audacity of the men and the one who sent them. I felt a strange blood thirst to protect these woods from any evil that wished us harm. And I felt wholly inadequate, too small, too young and too inexperienced. I closed my eyes for a moment and prayed fervently that Seregon would protect our nana. "What will we do?" I whispered.

Legolas shook his head sadly. I do not know what he was feeling, but I thought he must have felt much the same as I did. I knew he felt a dedication to these woods and her people that I also felt, but he was the king’s son. From the moment of his birth, he had been taught that everything in these woods was his responsibility. Even though we did not often show this awareness of duty, we knew it; he knew it. "I do not think there is much that we can do," he finally said. "We are not warriors yet. But," he said, his face set in determination, "I will not stand down from them."

I was not exactly sure how to respond to that. My advice to him would be to run if we were confronted by these intruders. Sometimes, one had to live to fight another day. There was little doubt in my mind that neither he, nor I, could take on a contingent of men or even offer much defense at the warriors’ sides who knew what they were doing. But, neither would I leave him if we had to take a stand. "Me, either," I muttered, unhappily.

Chapter Three: Secrets

Four days had passed since Legolas and I listened at the masters’ cottage window. I found myself worrying over every detail of troop movement I could see and every minor grimace on Thranduil’s, Seregon’s and Aldamir’s faces. While I was concerned about the threat, I have to admit, I was mainly attracted to finding out more information. I hated feeling like the only Elf (with the exception of Legolas) who knew nothing about what was happening.

Legolas was as irritated as I was that no one would tell us a thing. He told me so at every opportunity. In a fit of utter stupidity, we even considered going back to the masters’ cottage and trying to glean more news. But after spending an entire afternoon making our plans to go back and stoop to the same level we had gone before, we became frightened that with the increased patrols around the perimeter of the Stronghold, we would be caught and sentenced to more of Borgil’s extra lessons. Since that would be nearly as bad as invading hordes of humans, we reluctantly crossed this off our list of ways to obtain new information. Since Legolas was growing more troubled with each passing day, and I, more curious, we had to find another way to find out what was happening.

At morning meal of the fifth day, Aldamir made an announcement that offered some diversion. "Erelas will be home this afternoon." Everyone at the table made happy sounds and pleased exclamations.

"That is indeed good news," Uncle said, but there was something about his smile that did not quite match up with his eyes. I think he already knew his middle son was coming home and was simply encouraging us to think this was some kind of normal little visit home. More than likely, Erelas had been summoned by the king himself.

Lalaith smiled at her husband. "I am so pleased. There is no time that I am more at peace than when I have all my sons within our home." Thranduil patted her hand affectionately. My naneth smiled as if she were also all in favor of sons being where one could reach out and swat them at will.

Legolas was quiet at the news, which was a bit odd, as he and Erelas are very close. I am close to Erelas as well, and I was preparing to announce to all my extreme pleasure at this piece of good news, when I noticed my cousin had an odd expression on his face. Erelas is usually a great deal of fun. He is not nearly as dull as Aldamir and Seregon. When he is home, he will often take us hunting and fishing. Best of all, he is always ready for a good prank against Aldamir and Seregon. I could not fathom why Legolas would not be jumping for joy. We got to do far more interesting things when the second prince of the realm showed up looking for amusement and respite from his duties. Legolas and I were fortunate that Erelas included us in some of his off time.

Amidst all the happy chatter, Legolas finally asked in as somber a voice as I have ever heard come from his mouth, "Why is he coming home?"

The look on Thranduil’s face could have frozen water. "What sort of question is that, Legolas?"

"Why is he coming home?" Legolas repeated, solemnly. "He is not due for leave for another two weeks."

"I was not aware that you are keeping the leave roster now," Uncle said, his voice low, and to my ears, rather menacing.

Surprisingly, Legolas did not back down. "Is he injured?" Lalaith’s eyes flew wide open at that.

"He is well," Thranduil replied, eyeing Legolas closely as if he were trying to decipher a particularly difficult puzzle.

"Then why have you sent for him?" Legolas boldly asked, taking me by surprise that he had surmised the same reason for Erelas’ return as I had. Despite an intense desire to know the answer, I was thinking about diving for cover under the table. From the look on Thranduil’s face, it was a wise consideration on my part. I thought it my duty to alert Legolas to the danger that lay ahead with a good kick to his shin, but I could not move. Not a muscle. No one else was moving either. Legolas had brought all activity to a dead stop.

Though Uncle was obvious riled, I had not seen the veins come out of hiding yet. Still, I was most interested that underneath his anger, he was still studying his youngest son like a map to the dragon’s hoard.

With more calm than I ever thought possible, Thranduil said, "It is not your place to inquire about such matters from me or from any of your elders."

"But there is something wrong and you will not tell me. My brother is in the forest every day, and you will not tell me!" Legolas said, his voice rising as tears sprang to his eyes. As tense as the atmosphere was and as bad as I felt that Legolas was obviously frightened for his brother, I felt a surge of relief that he did not tell Uncle that we knew about the men, as that little piece of news would undoubtably beget the question of how we came by that knowledge.

A look of sudden understanding passed through Uncle’s eyes. He motioned to Legolas to come to him. Legolas rose cautiously and went to stand by his adar’s chair. Thranduil gently took Legolas by the back of his neck and pulled him down so that he could speak only to him. After a quick kiss to his son’s cheek, he released him. Without casting a glance back at any of the stunned observers, Legolas left the room. Thranduil gave another quick pat to Lalaith’s arm, then stood, motioning the rest of us bobbing males to stay seated. He kissed Lalaith’s cheek and silently followed Legolas out the door.

When I turned back to my family, I saw that Seregon was watching me with a scrutiny that I did not think I liked very much. I admit, I must have been as pale as a wraith, but all I could think about was that he somehow knew we had been sneaking around under open windows. Guilt is a noisome companion. I found I was suspecting everyone of having found us out. When I finally forced myself to look directly at him, I was relieved to see a faint smile appear. "There is nothing for you and Legolas to worry yourselves about. All is well."

"Then why is Erelas coming home?" I asked, all my worries coiling tightly in my chest. Despite Seregon’s reassurances, things within my normally ordered life were awry. Besides, Legolas was upset, and when he was upset, he felt it his duty to be certain I was as miserable as he was.

"Because," Aldamir answered mildly, "we are constantly rearranging troop movements and making plans so that we may do our jobs effectively." He shook his head. "It is not uncommon for me to meet with my officers from the field."

I picked at the eggs on my plate. "But Legolas is right. Something has happened, and we are now confined to a small area to play, and the masters all look as if they are expecting something or someone." I swept my fork out. "Everyone is acting differently."

"I have noticed no one behaving strangely," Seregon said.

I gave him that look of Uncle’s that says one is either too young or too unimportant to understand. But we all knew Seregon was not too young, and he was certainly more important than me in the order of rank. Not to mention, I knew something was amiss; he was simply playing dumb. His evasiveness irritated me to no end. "Then you have not been paying attention," I snapped, immediately regretting opening my mouth. I do not think if I had slapped him, he would have looked more annoyed.

Before Seregon could defend himself and probably remove my head, Nana intervened. "Daeron," she said, calmly, "I know that you and Legolas must feel disquieted for some reason. It is obvious something is disturbing you. Why do you not tell us what it is? If it is possible, we will help allay your fears."

I went back to picking at my food. "It is only that everyone is acting strange."

"Explain what you mean by strange," Aldamir said.

I did not like being on the spot without Legolas. What would he tell his adar? I did not think he would tell him we knew about the men encroaching into the woods, and I knew I certainly was not going to admit it, but I did not know exactly what I should say. By then I was getting so confused myself, I was not certain if I was anxious about the men themselves, or if it was because we had obtained the information about the invaders by means I was sure would not sit well with my elders. Possibly it was both, and we could throw in the fact that I had just sat witness to Legolas challenging his adar. I was not feeling very brave at that moment. Since I was an well-known expert at saying all the wrongs things, I thought it best to end this conversation before I inadvertently told my deepest darkest secrets and never even knew it until it had tumbled out of my loose lips. "Nothing," I muttered. "It does not matter."

All the adults started exchanging those glances that say they know you are trying to wiggle out of answering and I was, but I could not see any other way.

"If you are worried, Daeron, then it does matter," Nana said softly.

I put my hands in my lap and stared at the table. "I am not worried. There is nothing wrong."

Lalaith leaned slightly forward as if to get my attention, and she did. "What have you heard, Daeron?"

She almost got me for I had already opened my mouth to say, About the men, but caught myself barely in time. I think she has some kind of strange Elf magic or something where she can see things that others do not. Possibly, it is merely the Nana gift from the Valar that she and my naneth have. Whatever it is, she can make you feel like you want to tell her everything. Since my mouth was already open, I had to say something. "Nothing," I repeated, lamely. I added a shrug for the effect of looking unconcerned. But against her, I felt as if I was trying to hold back the Forest River with my little finger.

"You have heard Elves talking?" she went on.

I shrugged again. Please! Somebody save me, I prayed.

"And what did they say?" she asked.

"That there have been tracks found near Uncle’s stronghold," I muttered and then wanted to kick myself. How did she do that?

I heard Seregon let out a long suffering sigh.

"I see," Auntie said, soothingly. "What else did they say?"

Do not talk! Do not talk! I kept muttering to myself. I shook my head. That was good. I would merely make gestures and not say anything.

"Who or what did they suppose made these tracks?" she asked as if this were the first she had heard about this and was truly interested.

I was nearly in panic by this time. She was quickly wheedling her way into my resolve, and at any minute I would be telling her all about how Gelmir was doing with his weapons, and I just happen to know because I just happened to be squatting down under Melda’s window while the masters were having a meeting, and just as a side note, there are men traipsing about our woods. I bit the inside of my lips and whispered, "I do not know. They did not say." Oh, help me Valar, for I had just told a boldfaced lie to my aunt and queen.

She looked at me as if she did not believe me, and her suspicions were, of course, right. She smiled kindly at me and said, "Then I would not pay much mind to those who know not of what they speak, Daeron. If Aldamir and Seregon tell you that you have nothing to fear, then I would trust them above those who gossip idly."

I nodded. She knew I was lying. I could feel it. In desperation, I looked to my naneth. "May I be excused? I do not wish to be late for lessons."

Nana thought about it far too long, and I thought she was going to let Lalaith continue to interrogate me, but she finally nodded. I stood on shaky legs and flew out of the dining room.

Legolas was late for lessons, but he did come. He was sullen and angry, responding to Borgil with the proper courtesy, but he was not prone to any discussion beyond what was required. When Borgil prepared to dismiss us, he looked Legolas over thoughtfully and then sent us on our way. When we got into the corridor, I could not stand another moment of suspense. "What did your adar say?"

He shook his head and increased his pace to his chambers. "I do not want to talk about it right now."

Well, fine! I grumbled to myself. I threw up a hand in disgust and turned off into my chambers to leave my books and gather my weapons. He had stirred up a hornet’s nest, left me to be quizzed by the grand inquisitor and then would not tell me what his adar said. Well, that was simply fine.

We met for our combat drills with Galdor first. No one escapes his lessons unscathed. An hour later we were all dirty, sweaty and tired. Being bumped, thrown and tossed must have helped Legolas work out some of his anger for he was much less out of sorts when we left to get a drink of water before going to blade training. He still did not tell me, and I was not going to ask after the way he had acted earlier, but I was all but dying to know.

After archery at the end of the day, I had to stay behind for a few minutes with Orocarni to shoot a few more arrows. I forgot to be one with my arrow and could not have hit the broad side of a mountain. Finally, after I had managed to hold off my rambling thoughts and concentrate on what I was doing, I landed three good shots.

"You seem distracted today, Daeron," Orocarni observed. "Is something bothering you?"

I fiddled with my bowstring and refused to look at him. My bothersome little companion, guilt, was back. I was sure he would be able to read my mind and know that we had been eavesdropping on the masters. My heart was pounding, and my stomach felt like it was marching to war. I shook my head. "No, there is nothing the matter." Did the Valar keep a record of how many times you lied? I wondered. I was already coming up with a plan to explain why it had been absolutely necessary. Facing the music gained a whole new meaning for me.

When he made no reply for a moment, I looked up to see him standing relaxed with his arms crossed across his broad chest as if he were sizing me up for a wall trophy. He sighed heavily and placed a hand on my shoulder. "You do not seem yourself. This is by far the worst run I have ever seen out of you." He eyed me closely. "Legolas, likewise, did not seem to be concentrating today, though his performance was adequate. Have the two of you had a disagreement?"

I shook my head again. I decided right then and there, I was going to kill Legolas with my bare hands. He started this whole thing at morning meal, and then left me to clean up the mess. I was suddenly the information-Elf, and everyone wanted me to tell them what was going on. "No, we are fine. I suppose I am just a little tired today. It is nothing."

"Did you not sleep well last night?" he asked. He seemed genuinely concerned.

That was as good an excuse as any. As a matter of fact, I wished I had thought of it myself, then I remembered the facing the music part of lying. But I had no other options that I could see at the moment. Fear of discovery won out. "No. I could not sleep last night. My naneth says that when I get overtired, I am restless in my sleep."

"I see," he said. "Then I will leave such concerns in her capable hands. However, as your master, I am concerned whenever your performance is affected by other circumstances in your life. I suggest that you retire early this evening, and if this persists you should discuss it with your naneth. I cannot allow you to train if you are not capable."

My head shot up at that. "I am sorry, Orocarni. It will not happen again." This was not working out as I thought it would.

He smiled. "I trust it will not." With a quick squeeze to my shoulder, he waved me off. "Go. I will see you tomorrow."

I ran all the way back to the palace. Where was that little blond orc spawn? I was going to kill him! After I had placed my training weapons in my chamber and ran back into the sitting room, I skidded to a halt as I came face to face with Naneth.

"Slow down," she laughed. "Where are you going in such haste?"

"Have you seen Legolas?" I asked breathlessly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I just saw him in the corridor. He asked me to tell you to meet him in the grandfather oak to await Erelas," she said.

"Very well. Thank you, Nana," I said as I started to run out the door. I did not get around her before she grabbed me by the arm and swung me back to face her.

"Now, give your old nana a kiss before you disappear and no running in the palace."

I left a quick dry peck on her cheek and started to run off again, when suddenly it hit me how sweet she smelled and how soft her cheek was. I turned back around, hugged her around the waist with lightning speed and was gone before she could get all mushy with me. I would never get out the door if that happened. More than likely, she would then want to talk and ask me more questions. I had more important things to do, like find a cousin to slay. "Good bye Nana," I called over my shoulder as I walked very fast down the corridor back to the Great Doors.

The blond troublemaker was waiting in the tree, unsuspecting of my wrath and innocent to my desire to carve him up like a shank of venison. I climbed quickly up to my limb and sat down. I must have looked slightly deranged because he looked at me like I was.

"What is the matter with you?" he asked. He could not really be that dense, I thought, thoroughly incensed. Several good comebacks came to mind, all involving empty-headed blonds, but I refrained as it covered too many of my relatives who wielded far more power than I would ever have.

"What is the matter with me?" I mused as if this were the most burning question in all of Arda. "Well, let me see," I snapped. "First, you take a nice calm family meal and turn it into the Last Alliance, and then, leave me to try and wiggle out of all the questions you left behind with the adults. Then you will not tell me what your adar said. Then Orocarni tells me that if I do not sleep better at night I am not capable of being in training. Then you whistle a happy little tune all the way out here and ask me! Me! What is the matter?" I leaned over closer to him and spat out. "I will tell you what the matter is: I cannot decide whether to kill you by blade or by simply snapping your neck like a dry twig. That is what the matter is with me!"

He did not look too concerned by my threats. I was certain of it when he laughed. "Are we not being a little over dramatic here?"

"Perhaps you can ponder that while you are having a nice long visit with Mandos," I snarled.

He smiled, but at least he had the good grace to not laugh aloud again. "I am sorry, Daeron. I was angry this morning. And after I talked with Adar, or more accurately, he talked to me, I was even angrier." He slumped back against the tree trunk. "I am so tired of being treated like a child. They will never let me grow up! Adar and Naneth do not want me to ever be anything but an elfling. Aldamir and Seregon are just as bad. You would think they would remember what it was like and want to treat us more grown up, but they will not tell us anything either."

While I completely commiserated with his stance, I did not know exactly what to say. We were treated like babies, but then, we were not exactly warriors yet either. Still, I could see no harm in them telling us what was going on. Certainly, it would help us understand. "What did your adar say?" I asked, mainly because my curiosity had the best of me, though I had still not completely forgiven him.

"The usual," he grumbled. "He gave me the respect and responsibility lecture again. Then he launched into the proper chain of command and how it was none of my concern if I was not told." He rolled his eyes. "Oh," he drawled, "Adar said he understood that I was worried about Erelas, but that he is a well-trained and highly-skilled warrior, and he can take care of himself, and he has many highly-skilled warriors with him, and they all watch out for each other, so I should not worry about him."

That was probably not the time to bring up the fact that my adar had been a highly-trained, highly-skilled warrior who did not come back. And then there was Oropher and two-thirds of Mirkwood’s forces at Dagorlad who did not come back either. Which brings me back to what Legolas’ point was: they treat us like babies. Thranduil was simply placating his youngest child with words that sounded good, but held no water in reality. Even good warriors die. However, I had no desire to point this out to Legolas. For one, he already knew it and for another, I knew he really was worried about Erelas. I sighed. I was as bad as Uncle. Even though I was still angry with him, I did not want him to worry either. I would do it for both of us. "Was he very angry?" I asked, severely lacking for a better question since I knew I did not wish to talk about dead warriors.

"Somewhat, but he allowed me to sit."

Then it was not a life threatening encounter.

Before I could make any more inquires, Legolas punched me in the arm and motioned off down the path. Well, my day was complete. There came Fluffy and Flouncy. The best I could muster was a groan as I slumped down hoping they would not see us. Hope is a foolish sentiment, I have learned.

"Mae govannen," Fluffy called as she came to an over-exaggerated whirling stop. I suppose she has perfected the art of fluffing while walking since her dress twirled out from her ankles and came to rest as lightly as a feather drifting on the wind. She was actually quiet skilled at it; she had very little fluffing to do once she stopped. "And what are you two elfings playing today? Are you hunting big bad orcs, or is it spiders today?"

"No", I said calmly, "we were thinking of hunting stupid elleths, and you came along just in time to play."

Her face did flush slightly, and I felt more pleasure than I had all day. Things were looking up. "You are so childish, Daeron," she quipped. "Did you learn nothing after your last immature outburst?"

I chuckled. "Oh, I learned a lot. I discovered that you could not sit down for two days, and all that fabric you are swathed in did not offer enough padding to soothe your...bruise."

Her blush deepened as did my unmitigated glee. "If I were you, I would be more careful what I said," she said. "I am certain you will not wish my parents to speak to your naneth or brother again because you have been rude."

I scratched my chin. "Well, you would certainly recognize rudeness since you are its most favored customer. And," I went on, "it is a good thing that you are not me or you would find you would not like to even be near you." There, did I cover everything? Did it make sense? Not that clarity really mattered. Delivery is everything in the game of snide comments, scathing insults and condescending discourse. I glanced at Legolas to be sure I had not left an insult unanswered. He looked gratified.

"You are so immature," she snorted and turned to gaze on the trees as if they had suddenly become extremely fascinating.

"You are repeating yourself," I pointed out. I was sure she would not want to be seen as dull-witted, even though everyone already knew it. So I told her so. "I tell you this only because I wish to help you expand your capacity to express yourself well. No one else really thinks you can, but I see some small potential in you that is yet untapped."

I would have sworn that Flouncy looked as if she were ready to burst out laughing. She quickly brought her face back to a neutral expression. I was very disappointed.

Fluffy’s mouth dropped open like a snagged fish floundering on the river bank. She whirled around to make sure her companion was properly enraged on her behalf. Flouncy’s expression changed again to one of feigned horror. I caught the insincere response. Legolas chuckled, and I knew he had caught it, too. Only poor Fluffy was still in the dark. I was beginning to wonder if she had any hope of playing this game at all.

Legolas jumped up to his knees and whispered to me in a voice loud enough for them to hear. "Look at her hair!" Legolas, Flouncy and I all turned our undivided attention to Fluffy’s head. Of course, not a hair was out of place, but her hands flew to her head, patting it as if it were on fire.

Flouncy smiled congenially and said, "It is fine, Míriel." But the twinkle in her eyes gave her away... to everyone but Fluffy. I was starting to think I might like Flouncy after all. She was still an elleth, but she knew a good prank when she saw it. That gave her some leverage in my book.

Fluffy huffed like an overheated dragon and crammed her arm through Flouncy’s. "Come," she ordered. "These elflings are far too boring to waste our time." Naturally, they started off to the river; the best mirror in the forest. But, when they had gone only a few steps, Flouncy looked back over her shoulder and smiled.

Legolas and I were nearly rolling out of the tree laughing. As he wiped his eyes, he said, "She will never learn. She is completely beyond her reach." He clapped me soundly on my back. "You are the master of the art of insult. I bow to you." His bow was somewhat short since he was squatting, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

"Thank you, my cousin, I am honored by your praise. But I would be remiss if I did not honor Fluffy’s hair. That was brilliant! Just brilliant." I smiled at him and shook his shoulder slightly. "Stay with me and you will soon be known far and wide."

Immensely cheered up, we took off running through the trees. The squirrels and birds were a bit put upon as we dashed past them, but we did not care. We had won this battle, and there were no sharp objects involved, if you did not consider our tongues. The enemy was on the run and by now, probably fussing over her hair down at the river. We owned these woods--even if we were restricted to the baby area. Some things are worth small sacrifices. Very well, it was a large sacrifice, but it was still worth it.

The day was waning in earnest when we finally stopped to rest in an old beech tree. We were both winded, sweaty and happy. That last sentiment waned, too, when we realized we had traveled far from our designated play area. Somewhere along the way while we were celebrating the defeat of Fluffy, we had managed to wander through the trees, over the river and end up on the north side of the Forest River. I had a vague memory of scampering through the branches that touched over a narrowing in the normally wide river and flying onward to where we now found ourselves. I was not very familiar with this part of the forest, even though it was at the west side of the stronghold. From my vantage point in the old beech, I could actually see past the mountains and into the forest of northern Mirkwood. The trees were thick and still lush with early autumn leaves. Of course, I was looking for signs of spiders. I knew we were a bit too far east for any real spider activity, but it never hurt to be cautious.

Legolas crouched down and took his bearings. "Have you ever been in this part of the forest before?" he asked. I shook my head. "Me, either," he said. His eyes were scanning everything and a look of deep concentration crossed his face. His head snapped back to me. "It is awfully quiet here, do you not think?"

Now that he mentioned it, it was very quiet. The normal forest murmurings were so subdued, it was as if all the surrounding woods were holding its breath. No birds were chirping. No squirrels stirred, not even the fat furry black ones–though they were usually found to the south. The leaves even seemed frozen and mute.

"Something is not right here," Legolas told me. That was an understatement. Whatever it was that had the forest this alert was just cause for me to run back the way I had come and never look back.

"We should go," I whispered. "Whatever it is, we are not armed or supposed to be here to start with." I did have my trusty little dull blade. I never went anywhere without it, but it seemed a mite less than useful if we met with real trouble.

Legolas nodded his agreement and had started to turn to go back when he stopped dead. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.

All I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears like a water drum. My eyes were so wide open I think I felt a slight breeze to my brain. I shook my head, but just as I did, I did hear something. There was someone moving along the forest floor. We were well off any footpaths, or at least, I could see none anywhere near. The northern border guard must have patrolled this area, and they must have had some paths they traveled, but the area looked rarely used for anything except being a forest. I heard the soft footfalls again, and my sense was that it was not the northern guard. No matter how quiet these walkers were, they did not walk like Elves. That is hard to explain to someone who does not know the difference, and I tested myself on that knowledge as I listened. Within seconds, I had concluded with finality that whoever this was, they were definitely not Elves.

The sun was dipping lower into the West. No matter how quickly Legolas and I ran to get back to the palace, we were going to arrive after dark. We were in trouble on both sides of us now, a very angry family at our back and someone unknown to us at our front. I had a brief moment of considering turning west and trying to make it to Imladris. I wondered if Lord Elrond would give us political asylum? Taking off in a dead run anywhere through the trees at that moment seemed ill-advised. The walkers were nearly upon us, and if we tried to flee, then we might draw attention to ourselves. We could fade and be unseen if we wanted to, but someone sharp enough to travel in such stealth might be able to sight our general direction, especially if we inadvertently made any noise. Legolas motioned to me to press further back into the shelter of the tree. We moved silently back into the deepening shadows and clung to the wide trunk. It received us kindly, offering a low hum of reassurance as the leaves and branches almost imperceptibly reached for each other to provide us with a frilly shield. We would be nearly impossible to sight from the front or from the ground.

I held my breath as the men came into view. It took a moment for my eyes to pick them out. They blended into the shadows nearly as well as an Elf. There were only ten, but the sight of them made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. I had never seen anyone like them. It is true that I have seen few humans in my life, and those were the men of Esgaroth or Dale who came to Uncle’s court to discuss matters of trade or defense. I suppose I thought all men looked like the men I was familiar with. The men I knew were for the most part tall and stout with the exception of the son of the Esgaroth group’s leader. He was tall, but so thin he looked as if he would snap like a willow reed. And he had some strange affliction on his face. There were little red dots that covered most of his skin, but seemed to congregate in large numbers on his chin and cheeks. I could only wonder if they felt as bad as they looked. And he had strange looking hair, too. It was an odd shade of red. Not that I can say much about such coloring as mine is a dark auburn, but his stood out like broom straw. However, I will say, he was quick to smile at Legolas and me when we met him at evening meal. Whatever this odd skin malady he had was, it did not seem to affect his good humor.

These men moving toward us looked nothing like the men I was accustomed to. They were short, taller than Legolas and me, but short for men or Elves. Their dress was quite unusual. They wore wide-legged breeches that were tucked into soft-soled boots. Their tunics fell to their knees with long sleeves that fastened about the wrist. A high collar, not unlike those of our under tunics, went half way up their neck. A sleeveless over-tunic with thigh-high slits fell nearly as long as the one underneath and was decorated with a stitched design I could not make out. Around their waists were broad sashes that seemed to serve as a sheath or anchor for weapons. The longest thinnest swords I have ever seen dangled at each man’s side. I was, of course, fascinated by this new blade. It looked razor sharp and even in the dying light, I could see that they were highly polished, and without a doubt, very deadly. As if their dress was not strange enough in itself, they wore nothing that was not midnight black. Well, except the swords and even they had intricately carved ebony hilts. Each man apparently had long hair, but it had been wound into a tight knot on the top of their heads. Their skin was light, but in a warm slightly sun-touched way. They were obviously well trained and of the same guard or whatever they would have called themselves. I am not certain I could have told them apart. Watching them walk, I was astounded by the silence in which they moved, and the light steps that snapped not even a twig. I rethought my earlier estimation of our troops’ failure to find these men and was greatly impressed that they had found any sign of them at all. These humans were good.

Legolas touched me lightly on the shoulder and motioned me to climb further up into the branches. The men were no more than fifty feet in front of us and moving quietly toward us. He waited until I stood and then grasped a limb over our head to pull himself higher. I was right with the plan until I raised my arm to follow him. Sitting as calmly as a duck on a pond was the biggest, ugliest, hairiest brown spider I have ever seen. On me. On my arm! My breath drew in and to my ears it sounded like a shout. I must have made a loud enough gasp to give us away, because Legolas turned with a look of complete horror on his face. I would like to say that I flicked the spider off and scrambled up the tree, but I could not move. Legolas took a step back toward me to knock it off, I assume, but as he did, I was hit with an uncontrollable panic and started to swat at it. My hand flew up just as he reached me with his outstretched hand. Our hands collided, then our bodies. I was the one with enough force behind my waving limb to cause the trouble, and his hand added only enough to throw us both off balance. My feet skidded sideways, rolling over the rounded surface of the limb. He grabbed for my arm, but missed, catching only a small piece of my tunic. I will give him credit; he tried to hold on, but he had too little to give him any grip, and I was tumbling with too much speed. When we hit the ground, he was lying on top of me. The force of the drop and my cousin’s body landing with all his weight on me drove all the air from my lungs. Despite our dire situation, all I could think about was whether the spider had hung on as we fell.

Before I could move or inquire as to the spider’s whereabouts, which considering I had no air in my lungs to speak or act, this might have taken some time, Legolas was jerked off me. In the blink of an eye, I was being hauled to my feet. Despite my inability to even gasp, I was able to register the sharp point pressed into my neck. Unfortunately, I was beginning to feel a little light-headed. The air would simply not come.

"Can you not see that he cannot breathe?" I heard Legolas cry. I heard some faint muttering in a language I had never heard before, even though I thought Borgil had had us learn every known language on Arda. This must have been one of the unknown ones. It was also fairly clear that the men did not understand a word Legolas said. Not that any of this mattered much at the moment. I was starting to see stars, and they were not the ones slowly showing themselves in the night sky. My knees buckled, and I sunk like a rock.

I could not have been out more than a few seconds, but when I awoke, a man was bending over me, rubbing my chest briskly and muttering some strange incantation or healing words. I had no idea what he was mumbling, but whatever it was, it seemed to work. Air was finally flowing back into my formerly crushed lungs.

I took a few good gulps to remind myself what it was like to breathe, and what a nice little pleasure it was. When the man was satisfied I was not going to die, he raised me to a sitting position while stroking my back in long slow circular motions. I started to thank him, but changed my mind when I remembered the all-important reality that he was the enemy. Instead, I just stared at him. Despite the fact that he was sneaking around our land, fully armed and looking fully dangerous, he had a kind look in his eyes as if he did not mean for me to be harmed ...unless he decided to kill me himself. Maybe they kept score, and if I died from a fall, it would not count. Still, he looked interested in me. I was certainly interested in him. He was obviously an elder or leader of some sort. His hair was streaked with silver threads that told me he was not as young as some of the other men standing around me. His face was smooth, without the deep lines I had seen on the older men I saw at the palace, but it looked softer and more worn than the others in his company.

He said something to me. Considering the communication problems, all I could do was continue to stare at him with what was, I am sure, a dull look on my face. Legolas and I were certainly making a good impression on these men. In the future, Thranduil would most likely want to make us emissaries to any peoples he wished to offend.

I heard Legolas say softly, "Are you hurt?"

"No," I answered. "I am fine now." He was still held firmly between two men, one of whom continued to hold a short knife pointed at his throat.

The older man pulled me to my feet. He may not have understood the words, but I suppose he understood the tone of my reply.

Another short discussion went on around us. Only three of the men spoke. The others silently watched the trees with blades drawn. Looking for more falling Elves, I supposed.

Finally, the older man turned to me and said something. I shook my head. He could have been asking me how I preferred to die for all I knew, and I had just passed up my best option.

In a very stilted and strangely accented tone, he asked, "Do boy speak Common Tongue?"

"Yes," I answered. Borgil would be so proud.

He nodded his head as if this were a major breakthrough, and it would have been if I had had any desire to stay and have a discussion with him. As it was, I preferred to go home and take my chances with Thranduil.

"Who you?" he asked.

"I live here. Who are you?" I asked. I tried to sound polite, but the question itself did not lend itself to sounding very welcoming.

"What are you doing in our woods?" Legolas asked. Instead of offering an answer, the men holding Legolas pushed him to his knees, not very gently, I might add. The man with the knife at Legolas’ throat hissed, "No speak to master until speaks to you." The older man did not even turn to look at what was happening behind him.

I could hear myself swallow. It did not seem like a good time to point out that it was a fair question.

There was another short exchange carried on by the men. The older man’s eyes never left me. Finally, he asked, "Others with you?"

I shook my head.

"You children?" he said, or asked, I was not sure if he was inquiring or just stating the obvious.

Still, I felt he required a reply. "Yes," I muttered, unsure what else I should say. But if he wanted to talk about our relatively low status, Legolas and I had already drawn up our complaints about this issue, and I could give him an earful.

"Where...older...people who know you?" he asked, stumbling over the words as if looking for the right ones.

"Parents?"

He nodded.

"Looking for us by now," I answered, hoping these men would scatter like startled birds. However, that was another vain hope since they were obviously armed and not in Mirkwood because they were frightened easily.

He turned, issuing orders by the sound of his voice. My hands were pulled behind my back and bound quickly with a thin leather strap. Legolas was suffering the same indignity and looking highly offended. Then, they pulled strips of fabric (black, of course) across our mouths and tied them securely. I glanced down at my waist looking for my knife, desperately trying to think of a plan, any plan, that might buy us time to get back into the trees and run. All hope was gone, just like my knife.

The men quickly gathered into a tight formation with us in the center and started north, through the forest, taking us in the opposite direction than where we wanted to go. My hands were burning, I could not talk (which was a disturbing development in itself for me) my knife was gone, and we were being taken. To where, I had no idea, but I was certain I was not going to like it.

I looked at Legolas and saw he was watching me. I tried to smile. Who I was trying to reassure was a bit confused at that time. The one thing I did know was so obvious that I could have painted it with all the vivid colors of my fear; we were in serious trouble.

Chapter Four/In the Woods

It was after midnight before our captors decided to stop for a rest. My legs ached, my mouth burned as all the moisture had soaked into the foul black cloth that had been stuffed into it, and my hands were so numb I wondered if they had fallen off somewhere a league or so back. Legolas did not appear to be faring any better than I was. We were both exhausted.

The older man motioned two of his men off to stand watch while the others gathered in a circle and began setting up a small encampment. Our handlers placed us inside the loosely formed ring and bade us to sit, which I did, grateful to rest my legs. Legolas and I sat side by side as we watched the men hunt through their packs. We watched with even more intense interest as they withdrew waterskins and small wrapped packages of what I thought must be food. Food. That was something I had not seen since mid-day meal. My stomach growled loudly at the mere thought. I could not help but wonder if they intended to feed us.

The older man motioned to one of his companions. The younger man nodded slightly, pulled two cups from a pack and set them aside as he took up his own waterskin. He carefully poured water into the cups. With a cup in each hand, he knelt in front of us and placed them on the ground. Water. It was clear, wet water and how I yearned for just one sip. The younger man offered us a faint smile of reassurance as he gently pulled Legolas’ black cloth down to let it drape around his neck. He repeated the same with me. Silently, he scurried back to his pack and began rummaging through it again.

I whipped my head around to look at Legolas. "Is this a ritual water torture?" I whispered. "He brings us drink, takes our cloths off and leaves us to look at the cups!"

Legolas was watching the cup of water as if it would disappear if he took his eyes from it. "I do not know," he answered. "Maybe we are supposed to bend over and drink it."

"My fortune," I grumbled, "would be to spill it and have to suck it out of the ground."

"Which I am willing to do at this point," Legolas remarked, still eyeing the cup.

Before we had to lower ourselves, literally, the young man returned holding two tightly wrapped squares of what appeared to be stuffed parchment, similar to the ones the others had taken out. The bundles were tied with a thin cord that wrapped around it in opposing directions several times. I watched him as he deftly fingered the string and let it fall away. The paper parted, and inside I could see that there was some sort of dried food, but it was nothing I could identify. Just like the water cups, he sat it down in front of us on the ground. He sat back on his heels and motioned with his hands, making gestures. I stared intently at him, doing all within my pitiful interpretive powers to understand.

"I think," said Legolas, "he is telling us he will untie us so that we may eat."

"Oh," I mumbled, "is that what it is? I thought he was demonstrating what we might be able to do if we were not being held captive by a band of strangers who have no business being here in the first place." I admit, I was getting rather annoyed by the whole pantomime when he had to know we were hungry and thirsty. I wanted to shout at him to release us before we perished right before his eyes. My nana says that I get cranky when I do not eat on time, and she is right. I was going from cranky to hostile very rapidly.

"Do not offend him, Daeron. I am hungry, and I want that cup of water more than I care about your head at the moment," Legolas snapped.

"He cannot understand a word I am saying, Legolas," I snapped back at him and then smiled at the young man sweetly. "See. I can call him an orc’s back end, and he thinks I am telling you what a fine specimen of humanity he is and how utterly delectable this morsel of Eru-knows-what is."

So far none among them had demonstrated any understanding of Sindarin. As I predicted, he was oblivious. He smiled enthusiastically back at me and untied my hands. After he released Legolas, he went through the motions of entreating us to eat.

"What if it is poisoned?" I asked, looking down at the open bundle of what I could now see appeared to be dried berries and equally dehydrated white meat of some kind. By the striations in the meat, it appeared to be fish.

"Why would they go to the trouble of poisoning us when all they would have to do is slit our throats?" Legolas asked. However, I noticed that he was not making any move toward the offerings.

"It is difficult to say about unknown cultures," I said, thoughtfully. "Perhaps they find it entertaining to watch Elves die slowly." I looked up at him. "They have been wandering around these woods for weeks. That could get boring."

Legolas huffed out a small breath. "Be quiet, Daeron."

When we had not made a move toward the food, the young man delicately picked up a berry from Legolas’ pack and placed it in his mouth. Again, he motioned for us to eat.

Legolas and I looked at each other and then lifted the bundle. The first berry I tasted was sweet, but had a wild tart flavor that reminded me of summer blueberries. The texture was slightly tough from the drying, but it was easily palatable. The flesh of the fish was light on my tongue and tangy with salt. Though it was unlike any fish I had ever tasted, it was quite good. When I had eaten all I was given, I drank down the cup of water quickly and knew immediately the sweet waters of my own home. I wanted to ask for more, but feared they would be offended and never feed us again. Fortunately, the young man noticed me looking wistfully into the bottom of my cup and refilled it. I nodded my gratitude to him and drank it down.

The older man changed the guards so the first two could eat. As I watched him, I spotted my knife tucked in his wide sash. It was all wrong. It did not belong there. As all the others began to settle on the ground for rest, I gazed at my knife, longing for it with an ache that was so real I could pinpoint the pain’s exact place in my chest.

The night air had turned much cooler as autumn had begun to come to the woodlands in earnest. It is true that Elves suffer much less from the cold than mortals, but it was still colder than Legolas and I were accustomed to. We sleep in fire-warmed chambers with soft woven blankets. I am told that as one gets older the cold bothers our kind even less, and the warriors can survive rather cold weather with only a few layers of clothing and blankets at night. But, no matter the age or experience of an Elf, we do get cold if exposed overly long to the elements without protection. The young man motioned to us to lie down and rest. Reluctantly, we settled down onto the cold ground. I pressed closer to Legolas and felt him respond by snuggling into my back. I was surprised to feel a blanket being lowered over us, but was grateful nonetheless. The young man smiled and placed his fingers to his lips in what is apparently an Arda-wide sign for quiet.

As I balled up to preserve warmth, I could not help but wonder about these mortals. Despite having taken us and that was an unforgivable transgression, I admit, they had treated us kindly if you did not count the fact that they had bound and gagged us. I could not understand how they could be an enemy when they were not evil as far as I could see. They were not like orcs who tortured and killed my kind. They were not like anyone I would have given the name of enemy. Yet, they were here for nefarious reasons or they would not be moving in such secrecy or abducting elfings. What did they want? I did not think it was Legolas and me they wanted. We were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. If the masters were correct and they were scouts, for whom did they brave the wrath of the Woodland king? And the wrath was going to be real when our warriors caught up with them. Retribution would be swift.

I thought of the young man who had shown us such kindness. It made me heartsick to think of him being cut down by the arrows meant to save us. I could not understand why I felt his way about this man who had taken us, bound us and gagged us. I wanted to go home, but these men could have been very cruel to us if they so desired. Would these men kill Legolas and me if they could when our warriors came?

I am no judge of the ages of men, but this man I had come to think of as the young man, seemed quite young, not much older than the leader of Esgaroth’s son. It did not seem right that he should be here threatening us. I simply could not understand, but pondered the whole dilemma no further that night as my eyes glazed, and my thoughts turned to dark paths, and the memory of a blade in my hand.

It was not yet light when I felt a swift but firm touch to my shoulder. All the men were up and readying themselves to resume our march. The young man took the blanket, folded it quickly and neatly, then stowed it in his pack. As I watched him, I realized it had been his blanket. He gave us water and a handful of dried berries to eat and motioned for us to hurry. He did not have to tell me twice. I ate the berries as quickly as I could and drank the water. Legolas did not waste any time either.

We were re-bound and the black cloths pulled back up over our mouths. It was only then that I realized they had left us untied all night. I supposed we posed very little threat to them, and they probably thought us too frightened to try and escape. They would not have been too far off if this was their reasoning, but my fatigue was mainly what prevented me from trying to escape. I fell asleep quickly and did not know anything until awakened. I wanted to kick myself for not thinking of trying to slip off while all but the posted guards slept. Of course, the guards would have been a problem.

We continued on a northwesterly trek for several hours. My eyes kept scanning the trees for the northern border patrol. Where were they? I had been so preoccupied with looking for our missing warriors that we had been underway for sometime before I noticed the older man kept sending out scouts to go before us, and I would assume all around our party to look for anyone else who might be in the area. The men continued to move gracefully and silently onward.

It was mid-day when one of the scouts returned with something to report. The older man signaled a silent halt as he tilted his head lightly as if to listen. The scout motioned to our left, the north, and made motions with his hands that I assume meant something to the older man. My heart quickened as I looked to Legolas to try and discern what he might be thinking. Not that either of us were any good at such things like reading minds, but I had hope that he and I were thinking the same thing: The northern border patrol was near.

Before the men could react (and what that reaction might have been, I have no idea) a group of Dwarves came through the trees with their axes at ready. Hope was just not working out for us. I was beginning to think that, if I wish to curse any thought or action, all I had to do was to pull out my tattered bag of hope. The men pulled their blades out with impressive speed. Legolas and I backed into each other and held our breath.

A Dwarf in the front of the group stared intently at the men, his eyes staying cooly on the older man. There must be something about leaders that they immediately recognize another with power, for these two locked onto each other in a fierce battle of eye contact. The Dwarf demanded in a gruff rumble as to what these men where doing in these woods in Dwarvish, of course. It caused me no small amount of irritation that I was gagged and could not answer, or at least tell the Dwarf my side of the story. Still, we were all facing each other in a stand off. Neither group wanted to look friendly nor did they wish to appear overly hostile. This could escalate in a hair’s breadth.

"Who are these strange men?" asked the Dwarf to the leader’s side.

"And what are they doing in these woods?" asked another.

"An even better question would be: What are they doing with two elflings?" the leader said. The others nodded.

The men were likewise exchanging a few words about this most unexpected development and probably asking themselves how a group of noisy, clumsy Dwarves had taken them unaware, but seeing as I did not speak the unknown language Borgil did not teach us, I had no way of keeping up with them. My frustration was building until I wanted to shout, Try the Common Tongue!

But the older man had been down this road before and did not need my advice it seemed, for he asked the right question. "Do you speak Common Tongue?"

The Dwarf raised his chin slightly and nodded. "I do."

"We know not you. We not mean you harm. We will go," the older man said as if this pronouncement took care of everything.

The Dwarf looked the older man over and finally let his eyes slide over to us for a moment before he returned his gaze to the man. "We do not know who you are either, and we have no quarrel with you, but I do know what you have there," he said, nodding toward Legolas and me.

The older man apparently knew the Dwarf was talking about us, but he did not cast a glance in our direction. His eyes never left the Dwarf. "We go and fight not you."

The Dwarf lowered his axe and leaned heavily on it. None of the other dwarves lowered their guard, just in case. A wise move, I thought. "It will not be we who cause you problems if you take those two. The Elves will not let you take their children."

The man looked slightly puzzled. "Elves miss children?"

A muffled chortle blew through the Dwarf’s lips. "I would say that not only will they miss them, they already have." He shifted his feet as if getting a better hold to deliver his news. "If I can give you a bit of advice, I would tell you to leave these two and remove yourselves from these woods as quickly as possible."

"You say Elves come for children?"

The Dwarf nodded. "They will not take kindly to you being in their woods, but they will kill you for taking these two."

Obviously, the old man had not considered this, but it was not fear that I saw on his face, instead he seemed confused. "If female dog losses pup, she look for it, but she soon forget."

I knew I was insulted, and I was relatively certain that Legolas would be offended at being referred to as a pup. However, I was surprised by the looks on the Dwarves’ faces; they seemed to be slightly offended on our behalf. It was a small thing, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

"You do not understand," the Dwarf said slowly. "I have no great love for the Elves, but I will tell you this: The Elves will not appreciate being referred to as dogs. But if you must, think of them more like wolves, vicious, angry wolves. They will hunt you to the ends of all Arda if you take these two, and they will destroy anyone who gets in their way." He nodded at us again. "If you take them, you will bring the wrath of not only the Woodland King down upon your head and those of your kin, but you will see the forming of an alliance of all Elven realms to see your people pay for what you did." Now, that was an intriguing thought. I wondered if the Dwarf was correct or if he was merely trying to add weight to his argument by threatening the men with the wrath of all Elven realms. Whichever it was, I liked that thought.

The older man began to converse rapidly with those he usually consulted with. Since their conversation was of no use to me, I turned my ears to the Dwarves.

Their leader never let his eyes leave the man, but he said to the one he had spoken to earlier, in Dwarvish, of course, "I do not know what these humans are up to, but they do not seem to know exactly what they are up against." He scratched at his chin with the dull edge of his axe. "It seems to me that they would be here looking for something. Scouting maybe. Looking for information. If that is the case, then they are carrying this information back to someone. From the looks of them, they are from somewhere in the East. This not only does not bode well for the Elves, but it would not be happy tidings for us either. If someone wishes to weaken or destroy the Elves here, then we could very well be next."

"There have been rumblings that the Dark Lord is gaining power again, and he has found alliances in the East in the past," the other Dwarf said.

‘That would be my guess," the Dwarf leader said. "I cannot see why they would take the younglings unless they intended to control Thranduil through them or ensure Thranduil pursues them and thus weakens his forces, making these woods ripe for an invasion." Legolas shot me a panicked look. The leader never cast the slightest glance in our direction, but he did not need a second look, it seemed. "How many Wood Elves do you know with that light-colored hair?" he asked.

"It is said that the king is golden-haired," his companion answered.

"That is my point," the leader agreed. "At least one of these younglings is one of the king’s own, maybe both."

My heart fell to my feet. One of the lessons we had been taught since I could remember was that we were to never tell a stranger who we were. Legolas, especially, would be fine prize for someone who thought to do harm to the king. Of course, Aldamir and Erelas would be, too. Even Seregon and I held value for someone wishing to strike at Thranduil.

The other Dwarf shook his head slightly as if he were in disbelief. If I could have, I would have assured him that he was not the only one. "Then what will we do if you cannot convince them to leave the elflings? I would not see harm come to any child."

"Nor would I. Nor would I see the Elves invaded, leaving us open for the next attack from the enemy. In this case, we share a common foe," said the leader. "But we cannot engage these men in battle for these two. If we do and something goes wrong and the children are killed or harmed, then you know as well as I do that Thranduil will hold the Dwarves accountable. We cannot risk war with the Elves either." His mouth twisted slightly to the side. "Especially not over a good deed gone wrong."

The other Dwarf shook his head again. "I feel bad for the little ones. They look frightened. We cannot just stand aside as children are taken from their parents."

"We will not leave them with no hope," the leader said. "There were signs several leagues back of the border guards. They are looking for these two, I am certain. We will go back and find the warriors and tell them what we have seen. It will be in their hands to get these little ones away unharmed."

Before any further could be said by the Dwarves, the man turned back to them. "I know not Elves and what say you about them true, they not what told us."

"What were you told?" the Dwarven leader asked.

"Lower than animals. Care for nobody. Greedy. Take best for self and leave little for others. Treat men bad," the older man said.

I did not have to think this over, I was definitely offended. I whipped my head around to see what the Dwarf would say. Surely he would defend us. We might not always be friends, but even he knew we were not as this man described. Though, come to think of it, the Dwarves might not find all these traits a fault. They were known to be a bit greedy themselves. Common ground is good when looking for allies, and I was hoping for someone to come to Legolas’ and my aid. Instead of being properly incensed, the Dwarf laughed aloud. I failed to see the humor.

"I would say that there is a bit of truth in all lies and a bit of a lie in all acceptable truths," the Dwarf said. "As I told you earlier, I am not overly fond of Elves. They can be difficult to deal with, but they are not our enemies either. What you have described is not what we know about the Elves, and we have been living near them and working with them for countless years. No matter what else you can say about Elves, you cannot say they do not raise their children with great care." He dipped his axe in our direction. "Leave the young ones with us, and we will see them home to their family. They are of no use to you."

The older man shook his head. "My speak not good in Common Tongue, but know what you say. I cannot change what master has give me to do. I told to bring home Elf for master to see. Master gain knowing from Elf. I cannot do against master. Not for me to ask questions."

"If I were you, I would tell my master that I could not find an Elf to bring and tell him that whoever told you about the Elves was mistaken." The Dwarf dipped his axe at us again. "If you do this you will bring war to your people. Many lives will be lost."

The older man looked as if he was thinking this over. I was hoping again, hoping he would listen to the Dwarf and leave us. Surely, he would not want war. But, he merely shook his head. "My people not fear death or war. We die honorably. We fear dishonor. Dishonor come from not obeying master. Cannot lie about Elf."

"Then you can only go back to your master and tell him what you have learned. Beseech your master to return these little ones to their home. But I can tell you that it will not mollify the king. His wrath will be great," the Dwarf told the older man.

The older man bobbed his head at the Dwarf. "We thank you for what you say. We be swift in leaving forest. They no follow us."

The Dwarf sighed heavily and switched back to Dwarvish. "Yes, they will." Then, he returned to the Common Tongue for his last words. "Then we shall take our leave of you and continue our journey."

As the men led us past the Dwarves, I saw Legolas turn a pleading looking to the Dwarven leader. I was sure he saw it and saw my look of raw panic, but the only sign of his knowing was in his eyes; he tried to offer us reassurance. Never in my life did I ever consider for a moment that I would beg to be given into the care of a Dwarf, but I would have fallen on my knees and pleaded if given half a chance. I had no pride, no old prejudices or insulting Dwarf jokes to offer. All I did have was a poor imagination that could not even fathom what was waiting on us when we were taken to the older man’s master for questioning. And, there was nothing Legolas or I could do but go where the men prodded us.

The reality that these men meant to take us from our home and into some foreign land where we would be held for whatever reasons brought the thought of my naneth to mind. I would never see her again. What was she doing at that exact moment? Was she with Auntie and Thranduil? I hoped so. I did not want to think of her being alone. I knew Seregon was looking for us and was not there to comfort her. I hoped she was not crying. I did not want her to cry over me. What I did want was the feel of her arms around me, to smell the unique fragrance that was her and to hear her voice saying soothing things to me. I wanted to hear her tell me she loved me. My eyes grew misty and a big lump formed in my throat. I wanted to go home.

The men changed course and turned to the north. Occasionally, I caught a quick view of the Grey Mountains through the trees. It would not be long before we were out of Mirkwood. Then I could only guess what they were going to do. The logical thing was to then turn east and skirt the foothills until they had to adjust their course again. All this was assuming they were from the East as the Dwarves thought. I had no idea how far it was to their home, but it must be far away. How long would it take us to get there? Maybe they had another place in mind. One thing I do not like is not knowing. It was this selfsame curiosity that had gotten us into this predicament to start with. Legolas and I had been dying to know what was going on and now that we knew, we might end up dying for knowing--or worse.

It was almost dusk when we stopped to rest. If we continued at the pace we had been keeping, we would be out of the woods by morning light. I was hoping the older man would stop for the night and that would give our patrols more time to catch up with us. That is if the Dwarves found them and delivered their message.

We had not stopped at mid-day to eat and, as the men began to pull out their repast, I began to hope for something more substantial than a handful of berries. The meal turned out to be the same as the one we had the night before, but I was not complaining at that point. I was so hungry, I would have eaten the parchment and chewed the string for my after-meal sweet. I was tired and sore, and Eru knows it is not like me, I wished for a bath. I envisioned a tub of hot scented water and day-dreamed of settling into it with a great sigh of pleasure. Nana would be so surprised to hear me say that. I wished I could tell her.

As Legolas and I finished our meal, he whispered, "What are we going to do? If they manage to take us out of the forest, we will be harder to track."

"I do not know," I said, but I was thinking. Suddenly an idea came to me. "Perhaps if one of us pretends to be violently ill. That would at least slow them."

Legolas’ eyes widen. "Elves do not get sick."

"I know that, and you know that, but these men thought we were dogs! I doubt they know anything accurate about us. Can you make yourself throw up?" I asked, my mind racing with possibilities.

"Not usually," he answered, slowly, as if thinking this over.

"Me either," I said, feeling somewhat dejected that neither of us could vomit on demand.

"Maybe one of us could just act like we are in pain. Cry, roll around on the ground as if something they gave us to eat has made us ill," Legolas suggested, a hint of hope in his voice.

I thought this over carefully and nodded. "That could work." Then another thought crowded out my hope. "Or, it could get us killed. What if they simply put us out of our misery? The older man said they were to bring an Elf back. One Elf. They have a spare."

Legolas looked slightly shocked and mightily alarmed. "Do you think they would kill us?"

I shook my head. "I do not know. They have treated us fairly well, but I do not know what they would do if forced."

"Well, then I would say that we try it and, if it looks like they are angry, we will get well again." He made it all sound so simple. Now that I had come to the realization that we could not trust how these men would react, I was sorry I had brought the whole thing up. Still, I could think of nothing better. Legolas nudged me slightly with his elbow. "You be the one to get sick."

"Me!" I yelped as quietly as I could considering I had just been sentenced to death by my best friend and close relative.

"It was your idea," he pointed out.

"Since I thought it up, you should be the one to do it," I argued. As far as I could tell, I had done the hard work. It was his turn to participate.

"We will draw sticks. The long one wins and does not have to be sick," he announced picking up a slender twig and snapping it half. He snapped off the end of one of the halves and when he was satisfied, he put them into his hand and made a fist.

"I get to draw first," I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you know which one is the long one."

"I do not!" he hissed.

"Of course, you do!" I protested, leaning closer to him to make my point.

"Then I will mix them up more," he said as he rolled them around in his hand.

"That did not change anything," I snapped. "You just rolled them in your hand. They are in the same order."

"Oh, for wizard’s sake, Daeron, just pick one!"

Before I could decide which stick held my fate, the men began to pack up their belongings and set them in the way meant for travel.

"Hurry up!" he whispered anxiously. "They will bind us again in a moment."

Still, I could not decide. Important decisions like whether you will live or die should not be made hastily.

A faint bird call sounded to the west of us. Both of our heads snapped up, and Legolas grasped my arm tightly. "Something is happening. They have found us!" It was then that I noticed the men suddenly becoming alert as if they had heard or seen something, too.

The men were quickly reaching for weapons and pulling razor-sharp blades. We were grabbed so suddenly from behind and lifted to our feet that Legolas stumbled. The men did not even bother to bind us, but merely started shoving us toward the center of the group and to where the older man was making quick hand gestures to his men. Within a few seconds, the first arrows flew. Four of the men fell quickly. The were Elven arrows, fletched by Mirkwood warriors. I knew them. My heart raced as I looked to the trees. I could see nothing, but I knew with certainty they were there.

Everything happened so quickly, I am not sure exactly what did transpire in the next few seconds. The men began to try and take cover, but more arrows flew and more men fell. The older man rolled on the ground as he dodged the incoming arrows and then, lightly leapt back to his feet. As he came up, he grabbed Legolas and pulled him to his chest, placing a knife at his throat. The remaining men were still trying to find shelter in the underbrush. None were archers and could fight only if the warriors dropped to the ground. I knew they would not do so unless they ran out of arrows. The best vantage point was from the trees. All they needed were clean shots.

A few of the remaining men made an effort to defend themselves by lobbing short knives into the trees. I saw a thin line of blood well on Legolas’ neck. In the next second, I saw my dull blade had fallen from the man’s sash. In a blind panic, I dove for it. As I came up next to the man, I shoved it as hard as I could into his lower back. The knife did not go in easily, but I was so lost in the terror of the moment, I pushed with all my weight and with a strength I did not know I possessed until I felt the hilt stop with contact to his body. He arched back with the pain, and when he did, an arrow caught him in the side of his neck.

I was caught so suddenly from behind, my breath flew from my chest. Then, I was lifted so quickly that I did not know what was happening until I found myself on a branch in the arms of Erelas. He hugged me tightly, then ran his hands over my body, looking me over with an intense look in his eyes I had never seen. "Are you hurt?" he asked, a tinge of fright in his voice.

"No," I muttered. My heart pounding, I grabbed his tunic. "Where is Legolas?"

He pointed to the ground. "He is safe." That was when I saw all the men lying on the ground. In the center of the carnage, was Aldamir kneeling on the ground with Legolas safely and very tightly held in his arms as warriors checked all the men to be certain they would cause no more problems. Legolas still held the sticks clinched tightly in his hand.

"Come," Erelas smiled. "There is an Elf who is anxious to see you."

My feet had barely touched the ground when I was swept up into strong arms and held to a broad chest. I threw my arms around his neck, wrapped my legs around his waist and buried my face into a mass of auburn hair like my own. "Seregon," I whispered, feeling tears hot on my lids.

"Daeron, Daeron," was all he could say, but by the intensity of the embrace, I knew all he wanted to say, but could not. I answered back in kind, holding on to him as if he were the last Elf I would ever see. And this Elf was my brother.

Chapter Five/ Going Home

Tiny sparks burst out of the flames as Ambar placed new wood on the fire in the center of our camp. The fire hissed and sputtered, but finally settled down to a comforting crackling. The warmth was welcome as it reached me where I was sitting wrapped in a blanket and leaning against Seregon’s chest. Callo, a warrior of the Home Guard, stooped in front of me and held out a mug of honey tea. I smiled my gratitude and took it, feeling the heat of the tea seeping through the cup to warm my hands. He went to where Legolas was held in similar fashion in Aldamir’s lap and sat the cup on the ground to Aldamir’s side where he could easily reach it when Erelas completed cleaning and bandaging the cut on Legolas’ neck.

"This paste will burn a little," Erelas told Legolas as he finished washing the area with a soft wet cloth. "It is not bad. Only the skin is broken. It will be healed in a few days time," Erelas said soothingly, as he worked. He continued to talk amicably. I suppose he was trying to calm Legolas, and I think it helped since Legolas did not try to bolt up a tree to escape. Though I am certain being in the safety of Aldamir’s arms was enough for him at that time. I know for me, I was content to be in the shelter of my older brother, an Elf whom I had just seen for the first time serve as a warrior in battle.

Even though I was still reeling with shock, confusion and exhaustion, I was most stunned by what I had witnessed of my relatives. These were Elves I lived with and ate with, but I had never seen them the way they had been earlier that evening. Seregon has served as a warrior for all my life. In truth, he was a warrior long before I was born. I thought I knew what warriors did. But never in my wildest imaginings had I contemplated him as a fierce and deadly force to be reckoned with. He was simply my brother, Thranduil’s second in command, but what else that entailed I had never thought to explore. On this night, I carefully considered what being a warrior really meant. I had watched a battle take place that was over in minutes. Arrows had flown with deadly accuracy. Elves moved with a fell gracefulness as they released their bolts with an awe inspiring speed. I saw quick glimpses of grim faces as the warriors sought their targets and unemotionally brought them down. I knew then, I would think twice about angering Seregon again! I was right back to one of my rules, one I had never applied to him: Never anger an Elf with a sword. From that moment forward, I expanded that edict to include a bow. A slow smile of satisfaction spread over my lips. Now that I had seen Seregon in battle, I was mightily impressed with his skill and confidence. And this powerful warrior was my brother.

I took a sip of my tea, and despite the abundance of honey Callo had placed in it, I could still taste the slight bitterness of what I knew to be sleeping draught. I made a face and said accusingly, "You are trying to put me to sleep!" Callo laughed aloud while all the others chuckled. I could feel Seregon’s chest shake merrily at my back.

"Yes, we are," Seregon answered lightly. "You need the rest. We will leave at first light in the morning to go back to the palace." He gave me a gentle squeeze. "I do not want to have to haul you back still asleep."

"Have you sent word to the palace?" Legolas asked.

"Yes," Aldamir said, "and I have sent word to Adar as well."

Legolas tried to turn his head to look at Aldamir, but Erelas caught his chin and steadied him as he completed placing a light bandage over the cut. "Is Adar not at the palace?"

"No, little one, he is in the forest looking for you and Daeron," Aldamir told him. "He will be here before the night is gone." I could see Legolas was thinking over this piece of information. To be honest, it was a surprising image to contemplate: Thranduil taking part in a warrior party. I was not certain if I should be honored or frightened out of my wits by this news.

"Why do we not go back tonight?" I asked. I was ready to see my naneth and to get into my own bed. Surprisingly enough, I still wished for a hot bath, especially if it would please Nana. She had been on my mind a great deal as of late, and I sorely wanted to ask Seregon about her. Still, I could not bring myself to do that with so many others near. It seemed too personal, too private, and it held the potential to make me cry in front of a group of warriors.

"Because you two are not in any shape to travel all night," Aldamir said. "You are tired, hungry and cold. None of us has stopped in over a day’s time either. We will have you home soon."

It was true I was hungry. As if Aldamir’s mention of our hunger brought forth food, Ambar brought us a bowl of steaming stew and a small packet of dried fruit and nuts. I put my mug aside, sat up in Seregon’s lap and began to eat with all the relish of a starving elfling. At that point I could have been given a new title: Daeron Tarondorion, The Famished. Seregon somehow managed to eat some of the stew also, while balancing me on his out-stretched knees. Legolas slipped to the ground next to Aldamir, but he stayed pressed up against his brother as if he feared losing bodily contact with him. I knew exactly how he felt. I was not even willing to move out of Seregon’s lap.

When my stomach was full, I settled back into my place against my brother. He picked up my mug of tea and handed it back. "Drink it all, Daeron. I will hold you while you sleep."

I took the offered cup, snuggled down until I was fitted perfectly then sniffed at it. "It does not taste very good," I complained.

"It tastes terrible," I heard Legolas say, unhappily. I looked over to see he had resumed his spot in Aldamir’s arms.

Seregon adjusted the blanket around my shoulders and chuckled. "That is too bad. Drink it anyway."

We sat in silence for a while as Legolas and I sipped our foul tea, watching the other warriors clean up from the meal. His eyes never left Erelas, as he set the watches for the night. Ambar built the fire up again until it blazed with a mild comforting roar. I breathed in the burning wood fragrance and felt the peace of knowing it was bringing warmth and safety, and it simply smelled good. The warriors not taking first watch settled down against the trees, talking quietly among themselves. A few took to the trees and were quickly gone from my sight.

Legolas shifted uneasily in Aldamir’s lap. "Who were they?"he asked solemnly.

Aldamir pulled Legolas into a deeper embrace and rested his cheek on the top of his head. "We do not know. We looked through their belongings, but found nothing to indicate where they had come from."

"Or what they were doing here," Erelas said as he settled down next to his brothers.

Legolas told them about seeing the Dwarves and what they had speculated upon in their private conversations. He told them the Dwarves intended to look for the Elven patrol and send help to us.

"Did you see the Dwarves?" I asked. "They wanted to help us, but they were afraid Uncle would blame them if something went wrong."

Aldamir smiled into the blond hair. "Yes, we saw them, and they told us where you were. Even though the men had changed direction to a more northerly track, they were very accurate in giving us a path to follow."

"You were not angry with the Dwarves for being in the forest, were you?" Legolas asked.

"No, Legolas," Aldamir said. "I was very grateful to them. The forest is large, and we had many warriors looking for you, but it was still a lot of ground to cover. We knew you and Daeron had passed through the trees to the northwest of the stronghold, but once you were on the ground, the men made very few tracks. We could find them sporadically, but would lose them for stretches. Then, we had to guess which way they were headed and try to find their passage again."

"You mean we were easier to track than the men?" I asked, stunned with the horror of knowing that two Wood Elves, namely Legolas and me, were so hapless in traveling without leaving a trail. Of course, it worked out for us this time. But still, it was a good thing it was not orcs tracking us.

Erelas laughed. "Yes, but then, I do not suppose you meant to cover your passage, and you did not mean to be taken. As it was, the trees knew you and were able to give us aid. We found the place where you left the trees. There, we found signs of the men."

Legolas snorted. "Left the trees! That is a nice way of putting it."

"Why did you leave the trees?" Seregon asked.

I gave Legolas a searing look. He smiled crookedly. "We fell."

There were enough shocked looks to go around. I did not know which was worse: for them to know that we had fallen out of a tree or for them to know why we fell. But I knew I did not wish to talk about creepy crawly spiders. It was a topic best avoided, though I feared the news would be revealed eventually by my hysterically amusing cousin when he had the proper audience.

I thought it was a good time to change the subject. "Is Uncle very angry with us?" I asked. I would rather face Uncle’s wrath than a spider, or my family’s ribbing that I had caused all this by flailing around trying to get away from one of the fell beasts.

"He was not pleased you had disobeyed him and left the area you were told to stay in," Aldamir said. "But he was very worried. He was most preoccupied with getting the search parties together and keeping naneths calm."

"Did you not organize the search parties? " Legolas asked.

"I did, but I answer to Adar, little one," Aldamir said. "He was involved in all the planning, and it was done very quickly. We had no time to waste." I thought this must be a polite way of Aldamir saying Uncle was breathing down his neck the whole time he was trying to get the troops ready to move. Little goes on in this realm that Uncle does not know about, and little is done without his hand in it. I think he trusts Aldamir, but he does not like surprises.

Legolas leaned further into his brother’s chest. "I am glad you came for us," he said softly.

"You did not think we would not, did you?" Aldamir asked, his voice low and serious.

"I feared you would not find us in time, and the men would take us out of the forest, and we would never see you again," Legolas replied.

Aldamir hugged him tightly. "I would have followed you to the ends of Arda, little brother. No one will take you from us." Legolas’ eyes filled with tears, and as Seregon’s arms tightened around me, mine felt full and hot. It came as a shock to me that my brother was not so dull after all. He was strong and fierce and gentle and kind. I felt ashamed of how much trouble I had caused him and Naneth. I wanted to be more like him and less like me. I did not know if I could ever be as strong as he is, but I wanted to. It occurred to me that Adar must be very proud of Seregon.

Finally, I got around to asking the question that had haunted me throughout the time we spent with the men. "I did not understand the men," I said. "They were not unkind to us, and they seemed to not be bad men. How can people who seem to be good, do bad things?"

Everyone grew so quiet that for a moment, I thought I had asked an inappropriate question. I was already steadying myself for the lecture, but my question was honest, and my confusion was real. My life had been sheltered in the Woodland Realm. I think Legolas and I had been even more sheltered than other elflings by living in the protective embrace of the palace. I knew little of the outside world, and Eru knows, the adults rarely told Legolas or me what was going on. Even more daunting was the fact that the more I learned of the world, the less I understood. It was not even that the world was a frightening place (which it could be) but it struck me more as a confused place where no one really knew what they were doing. Truth seemed subject to change and agendas were altered on whims. The thought that all creatures were stumbling blindly through existence, frightened me more than an army of orcs. At least we knew what the orcs wanted. How could you ever trust anyone if you never knew what they really wanted from you?

Seregon shifted slightly. I thought he seemed a bit uncomfortable with my question. But finally he answered. "That is a difficult question to answer, Daeron. From what you and the Dwarves told us, it appears the men did not know much about our kind. I would suspect that even though they were badly misinformed, they thought they were doing the right thing. We do not know who told them about us or what their real reasons for sending the men were. But it is a fact that even good men can be led astray."

A sudden vision of all the men lying dead on the forest floor came rushing back. I felt queasy and unsettled with the memory of men who had been talking and eating, walking and sleeping, merely a few hours earlier, but who were now fallen, impaled with many Elven arrows. An involuntary shudder ran through me. I had never seen a dead person before. It was a strange and unreal sight. There was a lot of blood, but I think it was the look on their faces that I will remember. It was as if each man’s death meant something different to him. One man looked as if he were surprised, his eyes wide and staring at nothing. Another seemed to only be sleeping while the one lying next to him looked as if he had been frozen in the last moment of agony he had felt. I had not seen them for long since Seregon took me quickly away from the place where they died. I did not want to stay. Most of all, I did not want to see the one who had cared for us. After seeing the few I did see, I closed my eyes and buried my face in Seregon’s shoulder. Thankfully, I did not see the young man.

Seregon lowered his cheek to press into the top of my head. "I am sorry, Daeron. I know this is difficult to understand. We had no desire to kill the men. What we did was not because of political differences or because they were not like us or even because they were bad people. We even attempted to take one of the men alive, but he killed himself before he could be completely disarmed." I felt my breath catch for a second in shock. I had seen none of this. "Aldamir gave the orders he did because once he assessed the situation, there was no other way to ensure your safety," Seregon said. "We were not willing to risk your lives." He sat up and turned me to look at him. "They had taken you, Daeron. They were here for reasons that could not have been good for us, and they were in the act of abducting two elflings. We had no other choice."

"I understand," I whispered.

He ran his hand over the top of my head, smoothing a few tendrils that had come loose from my braid. "I cannot imagine having to return home and telling Naneth that I had failed to bring you or Legolas home safely. She has suffered too many losses already, as have our uncle and aunt. I fear such a loss would have been more than she could bear. I would not lose you either, little brother. Nor would I needlessly endanger myself. I would not have you or Naneth mourn me. I do not know of any warrior who does not think of those he loves before he goes into battle. Aldamir had many things to consider before he decided on our course of action. There were too many lives at stake, and the implications for the entire realm were too grave to take this lightly."

Legolas had been listening to what Seregon had to say with what appeared to be all his attention. His brow was slightly furrowed, and his eyes were wide. I think he was having as much trouble as I was in deciphering the men. "There was one who was very young, for a human," Legolas said. "He should not have been with men like that. He was kind, and I do not think he would have harmed us."

"We will never know if that was the case," Aldamir said. "There was an equally good chance he would have killed you if it served their purposes." He looked over at me, and then back at Legolas sitting in his lap. "I made the decision to take definitive action if your lives were at risk." He rested his cheek again against Legolas’ hair and repeated softly, "I would do it again."

Erelas reached over and squeezed Legolas’ shoulder. "The risk was too great and the two of you too valuable." He sighed heavily and settled back against a tree. "There is no good explanation for why people do bad things. Each person has their own reasons, I suppose, and those reasons are often so complicated that they may not even know themselves what they are. But there is still much good in this world and in her people. We may never know what motivated these men, but do not be discouraged. I promise you that you will meet many others throughout your lives that will be strong and pure of heart. You will recognize them when you meet them."

"I thought the young man was a good person even if he was doing a bad thing," I said, realizing I was not off to a good start with discerning good people from bad people. "He gave us his blanket last night so we would not be cold."

Erelas nodded. "He may have been a good person if we had met him under different circumstances. But you must understand that whether the men were good or bad was simply not our concern when we came upon you still being held by them." He shook his head slightly. "He was one of the people who took my brother and my cousin, and we had not the luxury of determining what his intent was or what kind of person he might have been. The only issue was that the men had you under their power, and it was our job to see you to safety, no matter what the consequences were to the men."

"I truly understand why you had to do what you did," Legolas said. "I still do not understand the men, but maybe I never will."

"Separate the two issues, Legolas," Aldamir said. "The moral issue of whether the men were good or bad is one. The other is that we, as warriors, had a job to do and nothing else mattered. Do you understand?" Legolas nodded. "And do you understand why we took the action we did?" Legolas nodded again. "Then all we have left is the moral issue, and I think Erelas’ explanation that there is no real good answer is the best answer we can give you." He patted Legolas’ arm reassuringly. "Do not feel bad that you are having trouble understanding. I have lived many centuries longer than you, and I cannot understand what motivates people sometimes. I imagine Adar would tell you the same thing. Many times there is simply no explanation."

Legolas sighed and settled back against his brother. "Then when I am a warrior I will not understand any better?"

Aldamir smiled. "Probably not, but you will have gained an understanding of your role as a warrior, and you will have experienced enough of life to know that you will never have all the answers."

Legolas nodded and ran his hands over the tooled leather arm brace on Aldamir’s arm. "I love you," he whispered.

Aldamir smiled brightly. "I love you too, little greenleaf."

"And me?" Erelas asked as if he were insulted.

Legolas laughed and nodded his head. "And you, too"

"What about me?" Seregon laughed.

"Yes," Legolas said laughing.

I sat up straighter and crossed my arms. Trying my best to sound offended, but not quite able to completely keep the smile from my face, I announced to Seregon, "But you are mine. He already has two brothers, and I have only you."

Seregon hugged me tightly. "And I could not be more blessed than to have you, little brother. I will always be yours."

My eyelids were growing heavier by the second. Callo’s abominable tea was working. Seregon wrapped the blanket around me again and pulled me to his chest. With a yawn, I curled up against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He dropped a light kiss on my forehead. "Go to sleep, my favorite brother," he said, as if I had some choice in the matter. "I am your only brother," I muttered as my eyes drifted completely shut from the fatigue and the potion. My last sight was of Legolas sound asleep in Aldamir’s arms.

It was well into the night when the soft sounds of movement woke me. My eyelids felt as if they were weighted, but I managed to crack them enough to see. Thranduil was kneeling next to Aldamir with his hand on Legolas’ chest. He was dressed as a warrior, a bow and quiver fitted snugly to his back. A sword dangled from his side onto the forest floor. I had never seen him so attired. He looked dangerous and competent, yet kingly and kind. I suddenly realized he was all these things and more. He was as complex and as difficult to unravel as the men had been. At that moment, he looked to me like a warrior of the Woodland Realm. And he looked like Legolas’ adar. Behind him I could see the Fifteen were fanned out among the trees keeping watch over their king. They looked like they always did: scary.

"Is either of them injured? " I heard Thranduil ask as he lightly touched the bandage on Legolas’ throat.

"No, Adar. Thankfully, that is no more than a scratch. They were frightened and confused, but after eating and getting warm, they seem well enough," Aldamir told him.

Thranduil nodded. "We will speak of the men later." He bent further, scooping Legolas into his arms as he stood. Aldamir rose to stand next to Erelas. Thranduil held his youngest son close to his breast, kissed him on his forehead and then his cheek. Legolas stirred and opened his eyes. I could see that he was still as sleepy as I was, and it was taking all I had to stay awake.

"Ada?" Legolas whispered and then threw his arms around his adar’s neck, choking sobs shaking his back and shoulders. "I did not think I would ever see you and Nana again," he cried.

"Sh.h.h., little one," Thranduil whispered as gently as if he were singing a lullaby. His hand made slow lazy circles on Legolas’ back. "You are safe now. No one will ever take you from me or your nana."

"I want to go home," Legolas whimpered into his adar’s neck. "I want to go home."

"At first light, I promise you," Uncle said soothingly. With Legolas in his arms, he walked over to where I was still huddled against Seregon. He bent and placed his hand on my shoulder. I took that as an invitation to let them know I was awake and sat up. Thranduil pulled me into his arms. "Come to me, little one. Come to me." I joined Legolas in throwing my arms around his neck, and we both held on to him and to each other. Uncle kissed my head and my cheek and squeezed me closer. "I love you both," he whispered. I joined Legolas in crying with relief and joy. I would have hoped that all the warriors were asleep and missing this fountain of tears I was shedding, but it was a vain hope since every one of them had sprung to his feet the moment the king had entered the campsite. I made a reminder to myself to ask Seregon if there was any sort of warrior rule that prohibited warriors from telling everyone and their brother about what goes on out in the woods. But I would worry about that later. At that moment, I was content to be safely and lovingly held in the strong protective embrace of my king and uncle.

I returned to Seregon’s lap to spend the remainder of the night, but Legolas stayed closely guarded in his adar’s arms. Thranduil settled down next to us. That was the last I remember until Seregon woke me gently.

"Wake up, Daeron," Seregon whispered in my ear. "It is morning, and I am certain the palace guards are already having to restrain Naneth." I stretched and yawned, feeling too warm and content to truly want to remove myself from my blanket and Seregon’s lap, but I wanted to go home worse than I wanted to stay in my cocoon. Legolas was stirring as Thranduil softly talked him back into wakefulness.

A milky-gray mist was layered on the ground, but it looked as if the day would dawn bright and clear. No breeze stirred the restful quiet of the leaves, but the air was cool, crisp and smelled of the woods in autumn. There is something fresh and new about the air when one season changes into another. I love the forest in all of them.

Morning meal was a treat. One of my favorite foods is a simple roasted honeyed oat, nut and dried fruit mixture that the warriors eat when they are in the field. Since they are so often on the move or in places where it is not advisable to build a fire to cook, they carry this mixture to eat. Seregon says it gives them energy and will sustain them until they can eat a more normal meal. Nana does not let me eat it too often because she says it fills me up, and then I will not eat what I need to grow. I would eat it every day. Seregon says the warriors get tired of eating it for long stretches and would gladly never eat it again. I offered to take the excess off their hands. He declined.

Erelas knows I love the field rations mixture the warriors call aewbas. Seregon told me the warriors complain it is like eating bird food. The real name is Celegbas since it is a food meant for travel and eaten in haste. With exaggerated slyness, Erelas slipped me an extra portion-sized pouch. The small sacks are made of a sturdy muslin with a draw sting attached to the top. They are small enough to fit neatly into a warrior’s pack as he moves about on patrol. I stuffed the one Erelas gave me into my tunic for later in the morning or until I could not stand it any longer and ate it. Without Nana there to supervise what went into my mouth, I feasted on three pouches of it and saw that Legolas was clearly enjoying his nana not being present to limit him either. He grinned at me with pudgy cheeks and muttered, "Id dis so goob."

I poured another handful into my mouth as I nodded vigorously. "Erawas gabe me sumb exwa," I told him while spurting a fine spray of tiny crispy crumbs from my mouth.

He pulled his secret pouch from his tunic, showed it to me and then quickly returned it to his hiding place in his tunic. "Me, toob."

Feeling extremely proud of our clandestine food stashing, we both grinned like half-witted squirrels and set upon the remainder of our aewbas that was public knowledge. I could not wait to be a warrior. I would probably miss Nana, but no one would tell me what to eat then. I would adjust to her absence by eating aewbas all day long.

Once we had all completed eating and clearing the camp site, Thranduil called us to him. "Legolas, you will stay with me. Daeron, you will stay with Seregon at all times. We will go back through the trees until we come to the clearing where we left our horses." He motioned to us to climb into the large oak in front of us. "Do not stray." After we had climbed onto the sturdy middle branches, Uncle and Seregon followed us. The other warriors took to the trees quickly and prepared to move out. The Fifteen were scattered throughout the trees, but maintained a protective circle around us. When Aldamir was satisfied that everyone was ready to move, he gave a low whistle, and we began to pick our way through the branches. We did not travel as quickly as I suppose the warriors could have. With us along, they maintained a steady, but relatively cautious pace.

Within two hours we came to a path that if traveled straight, traversed the forest from the northern border to the stronghold. In less than half an hour we were standing in the clearing where the horses grazed contentedly on the sweet grasses of the small field. From the waters of a clear cold stream, we refreshed ourselves, and the warriors refilled their waterskins. I ate half of my aewbas reserve and washed it down with all the water I could hold. I noted that Legolas was munching happily too as he watched the warriors retrieve the horses. Erelas lead the king’s mount, Dairuin, to his adar. Thranduil picked Legolas up and placed him on the big sorrel’s back just as Seregon lifted me and sat me on the back of another horse. It was a big beautiful black stallion. "What is his name?" I asked Ohtar.

"His name is Aduial. He is companion to Delerion," Ohtar replied. This was the horse of one of the Fifteen, and they were going to let me ride him! Even more surprising was the horse was going to allow me on him. I was shocked beyond words (a rare occasion, I confess) for no one rode the mounts of the Fifteen except the Fifteen. All Elven horse are well trained and highly intelligent. The mounts of the warriors are even more so for they see battle. They are brave and steady of foot. But the mounts of the Fifteen are in a category all unto themselves. They are, of course, as well trained, intelligent and brave as any other horse, but they are different: They seem to take on the personalities of the fierce, stoic and extremely frightening warriors who ride them. I would no more anger the horse of one of the Fifteen than I would one of the Fifteen. Humorless seems an odd characteristic to apply to a horse, but it is fitting. I would not be surprised to find out that they can wield a sword.

"Are you certain it is permissible?" I asked. Ohtar smiled at me and nodded. My mouth dropped open. Ohtar smiled! My whole world was crumbling. This entire trip was shattering my ideas of how the world worked.

As Seregon mounted behind me, I leaned forward and patted the great steed’s neck. "Thank you," I whispered. "You are very kind." Naneth always says it is much easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar. The last thing I wanted was to offend a horse who had probably never carried another living creature save Delerion. It seemed prudent to make friends.

It was then that I noticed there were only sixteen horses. We would not all ride. Thranduil called to Aldamir where he was speaking to a warrior called Ostoher. "I would have you ride with us, Aldamir." Aldamir nodded and quickly completed whatever he was instructing Ostoher to do.

"What about Erelas?" Legolas asked.

"He will take the others through the trees," Thranduil told him.

"Why does he not go with us?" Legolas inquired further.

"He is in command, Legolas, and will lead his warriors back to the stronghold." He patted Legolas’ leg. "Erelas will be home soon after we are." While it is true that the warriors can travel through the trees more swiftly than on the ground, not even they can outpace horses riding an open trail. Unless something slowed us, we would arrive home before they did.

Erelas came forward to where his adar and his brother were discussing him as if he were not anywhere near, when in reality he was merely feet away. "Adar is right, Legolas. I will be home by evening meal and still have time to bathe before Naneth chastises me for smelling less fragrant than she would have me."  He smiled up at his younger brother and then turned to his adar. "By your leave, my lord, we will begin our journey home."

Thranduil nodded and then added, "Go swiftly and with great care."

Erelas bowed and said, "As always, my lord."

I watched as Uncle swung up behind Legolas and as Erelas went to Aldamir. The two brothers exchanged quick words, and then Erelas placed his hand over his heart in formal salute and disappeared into the trees. The others going home by this way followed him, and all were lost to our sight in moments. Legolas was frowning slightly as he continued to stare off into the trees where his brother had disappeared. Uncle urged his horse forward, and we began the second leg of our journey home.

We stopped at mid-day to eat and refresh ourselves. The same small bubbling stream we had drunk from earlier ran past us again, and we took advantage of its presence. I knelt down next to Legolas as he drank from his cupped hand. "Do you think we will get to eat aewbas again?" I asked, my voice full of excitement at this unexpected good fortune.

He nodded. "I think so. I can not see the warriors stopping to cook when we are so near home."

I smiled in agreement. It only seemed logical. "Do you have any left from the extra Erelas gave us?"

"No. I have eaten it all." He grinned. "Do you?"

"A little." I was saving it for hard times, and I imagined those would come as soon as we passed the threshold of the palace. I had visions of lying in my own bed that night in a hazy darkness, munching happily on my secret stash. It was the height of decadence. Nana would never know.

As we had hoped, the meal was quick and once more consisted solely of our favorite food. Since it was there for the offering, Legolas and I both ate our fill. Again. No one was particularly paying us any mind. As long as we stayed where they had put us, they did not seem to care what we ate. My urgency to complete growing and training reached a new height. This was the life, traveling through the forest and living off whatever you wanted to eat. I supposed that we would have to slay a few orcs on occasion, but then we could celebrate by feasting on aewbas. We slipped another pouch into our tunics for later.

The afternoon was waning as we rode in sight of the palace. Judging by my internal time, training was over for the day, and the fields were likely clear. I could not see them to be certain. Not that it mattered, I was home! There were Elves still traveling the paths, and they all greeted us with warm enthusiasm as we passed. I saw Flouncy run from the path to her cottage and stop as she searched the group with her eyes. When she saw Ohtar, her face lit up and her eyes danced. She gave a small little wave in her adar’s direction. I could not see Ohtar to note if he returned her greeting. Are warriors allowed to wave? I wondered. I would have to ask Seregon.

Thranduil and Legolas were the first across the bridge with Seregon and me right behind. We had barely cleared the bridge when I saw Legolas slide from Dairuin’s back and take off running. From the landing at the Great Doors, Lalaith swept down the steps, her skirts billowing behind her. That is when I saw that my naneth had been standing next to Auntie. I threw my leg over Aduial’s back and started to slide off. Seregon caught my arms just as I slipped over his side and guided me to the ground. In the next moment, I was in my naneth's arms. She smelled so good. I have always thought that my nana smells just like the roses in the palace’s private gardens on a late spring day. There is something fresh and warm about the way she smells. Whenever I smell roses I think of her. I drank in her fragrance when she held me tightly to her, immediately comforted by everything about her that made her my nana. I was nearly bursting with joy to be in her arms again.

Despite my general feelings about bathing, the bath my naneth prepared for me was indeed, very pleasant. The water was warm and lightly scented with cedar and berry. Though I am far too old to have my nana bathe me, she seemed to want to make certain I scrubbed every crease and plane of my body. Actually, she did most of it. When I stepped from my bath, there was nothing left un-scoured, from head to toe, hip to shoulder, toe to heel. I was a clean Elf.

The bad news was that I was feeling a little queasy. But I dismissed it as excitement and trailed after Nana to evening meal.

Once the repast had begun, Legolas and I both stared at our heaping plates. "Is there something wrong with your meal?" Uncle asked. I suppose he was shocked that we were not eating since presumably we had not eaten much in several days.

We shook our heads in unison

Lalaith looked to her husband. "What did they eat on the way home, my love?"

"Celegbas mainly," he replied, clearly without any idea of where this topic was heading.

"How much?" my nana asked.

All eyes turned to us, except Erelas. He was inspecting his goblet.

"Daeron?" Naneth said. "How much did you eat?"

"I do not know," I muttered, feeling even more uneasy.

"Legolas? How many pouches?" Auntie asked.

"I have one left," he answered.

"And you actually ate how many?" she repeated.

"About eight," he replied pitifully. He really did look green. Somehow, it was not an appropriate shade even for a Wood Elf.

Aldamir nearly choked as he stifled a chuckle. Erelas was looking under the table as if scouting for orcs, and Seregon was shading his eyes with his hand. Uncle was in shock. His eyes were wide as he looked stricken at his wife.

"Thranduil!" Auntie said. "How could you allow them to consume so much at one time? Surely you knew it would upset their stomachs? They are not accustomed to such."

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He looked to Legolas and me as if beseeching us to come to his aid. Unfortunately, we had none to offer. Not to mention, my stomach was hurting so badly by then, I thought it was a just inquiry. Why did no one tell us it would eat our stomachs like poison? Finally, Uncle turned back to Auntie and confessed with uncertainty, "I had no idea they had consumed so much."

Lalaith stood and motioned to us. "Come. The healers will have something that will settle your stomachs." Naneth joined her. As we were leaving the family dining room, Auntie looked back at the group of dumbstruck males who had stood for them to leave and announced, "I will be back as soon as I have seen to the little ones. We will speak of this then."

I did not actually see him, but I know I heard Thranduil groan. If I had not felt so poorly, I would have taken some amusement in the memory of the earlier look on his face. I imagined he was wearing a similar one at that point. It was clear to see: Uncle was in serious trouble.

Chapter Six: Regrets, Worries and Revelations

After Nana tucked me into bed, Thranduil came to visit me. He sat down on the side of my bed and patted me gently on the chest. "How are you feeling?"

"I am better," I told him. By this time, I felt as if I had told everyone in the palace the status of my stomach. I could not help but hope that the king would be the last inquiry into my self-inflicted ailment. It was embarrassing enough as it was. I was actually relieved to be in bed. At least there I could not fall out of a tree, be captured by strange men or eat enough aewbas to see a patrol through a prolonged campaign. I did not think I wanted to ever see aewbas again. When I became a warrior, I decided I would take my own supply of lembas and take a bite when I got really hungry.

Uncle smiled. "That is good news," he said. "The healers assure me that you and Legolas will live through this little overindulgence."

I nodded. Now that I was feeling better, I was fairly confident that I would survive if I did not die first from all this family concern. I felt as if I were the cracked egg in the nest, and everyone had to stand watch to be certain I would be able to peck my way out. Legolas probably felt the same way: sick at his stomach and sick of being fussed over like a defective hatchling.

"Daeron," Uncle said, mildly, "you and Legolas have been through quite a frightening experience. It would not be unusual for you to feel a little unsettled for a time. I understand there is much about what happened that has caused you some confusion. It is difficult to understand what motivates people at times. Even those of us who have lived for many years longer than you often do not understand why things happen the way they do." He ran his hand gently over the crown of my head. "I am always here for you, child. I would like to hear whatever you wish to tell me about your thoughts and experiences."

I could not look him in the eye at that point. I was feeling too uncomfortable. Not with him, but with the jumble of thoughts that raced through my head as I tried to picture exactly what did unsettle me. I could not narrow it down so easily that I could chose something and discuss it with him.

I ran my hand over the soft silk of his tunic sleeve. After leaving the dining room each evening, he would shed the formal robes of the king and relax in his tunic and leggings. He was far less threatening when he merely looked like an Elf enjoying his family time. I like to think of him as only my uncle. The fabric felt smooth, soft and slightly cool to my touch as I rolled it gently between my fingers. "I do not know what to tell you, Uncle," I said softly.

"Anything you would like," he answered.

The truth was that I really did not feel much like talking about it at that moment. I thought it best to just leave it alone for a while, and I would see how I felt about it later. I appreciated him coming, but I knew that Legolas would tell him what transpired during our time with the men. Besides, I was getting too sleepy to think overly much anyway, and I certainly did not want to relive that day in all its gory detail. It was too fresh in my memory. Not to mention that I had not entirely separated those events that I hoped no one would ever know about from the ones that were out of our control. I could just see myself telling Uncle that the whole reason we were captured was because I knocked us from a tree trying to escape a spider. If he knew this, I feared he would blame me for placing Legolas in such danger. I suppose I was to blame, but I did not want to hear him say this.

"I am not certain I want to talk about it yet, Uncle," I said. "I think I am too sleepy to think right now."

Thranduil nodded and gave me another small smile. "I am glad you can sleep this night, Daeron. You need the rest. However, I hope you will remember that I am always willing to listen if you wish to talk about this. I will do my best to help you understand and to make you feel safe." He bent low and kissed me on the forehead. "I would never allow any harm to come to you if I can prevent it. You are too precious to me. Indeed, you are too precious to all of us."

"Thank you, " I whispered. "I will remember."

"Perhaps," he said, thoughtfully, "you may feel more comfortable talking to Seregon. He loves you very much, Daeron, and would do anything to aid you" Then, he chuckled. "Do not let his sometimes demanding personality make you think otherwise. He is an officer most of his day, and I think he finds it difficult sometimes to leave that role behind when the day is over. He is learning that he does not have to be on duty at all times." He tapped me on the shoulder with his finger. "Do not misunderstand me, little one. Your brother is as fine an officer as there has ever been. I am grateful every day for the thorough job he does in seeing this realm protected. I would not do without him as my nephew or as one of my commanders. My love and respect for him are great."

I had nothing to say to that. I had thought that Legolas and I were the only ones to have found Seregon dull and foreboding. Maybe Uncle was not exactly saying he was those things, but it came as a relief to me to know that he understood how difficult my brother could be.

"Get some rest, my child," Uncle said when I made no reply. "I will see you in the morning." It always made me feel warm when he called me, my child. I knew I was not his son, but I also liked to be reminded that he loved like I was one of his. Indeed, as I thought about it, I realized he did love me this way because to his way of thinking, I was his. It felt good to belong.

After Thranduil had gone, Seregon came. Uncle undoubtably sent him, but it really did not matter; I was glad he came even if it was only for the comfort of having him near. For some odd reason, I felt more at ease in his presence than I had in the past. It was not that I was really uncomfortable with him before, but I had always more or less put him in the category of stern adult. After what I had witnessed of him in battle, I could think of no one I felt safer with physically, but there were other changes between us that were new to me. I have always known that he loves me. However, our relationship seemed to be built on my ability to cause him irritation, and his reaction to me: the thorn in his side. Until now, I really had not cared what he thought, and I even took some delight in scaling his nerves, like a black squirrel running up a tree to squawk at an army of passing orcs. I felt bad about that now as I recalled the look on his face when he swept me up into his arms after the short battle. I had not thought that anything could frighten him-- irritate him as easily as butter glides over toast, yes--but to truly cause him fear, that had never entered my mind. But, for my part, I remember how I felt when he held me safely in his arms. That was the moment I became the butter, and I only wanted to melt into him: absorbed, safe and warm.

He climbed into the bed with me and pulled me to his side. My head was just at the right place to rest on his shoulder. "It is nice to be back in your own bed, is it not?" he smiled.

I nodded. The stomach draught must have had something in it to make me sleepy. I had begun to wonder about all these sleeping potions. That would certainly be one way to keep a short rein on Legolas and me. They would have to look no further than our bedchambers. Still, it seemed a bit like cheating to me. What I did not like about the potions were the strange dreams I would have when I had been imbibing in them too often. I had been too tired the night before to dream very much, or at least I did not recall any dreams. But on this night, when I closed my eyes I saw the men. The young man was there, smiling at me as he demonstrated how we should eat. His smile was pleasant and non-threatening. I smiled back at him in my dream. Suddenly, the scene turned to chaos, and I saw the older man take Legolas and swipe a knife across his neck. I sat straight up in bed.

"What is it?" Seregon asked, evidently alarmed when I bounced up like a startled doe. Before I had finally succumbed to sleep, Seregon had been reading a tale of the First Age to me. He set aside the book and reached out for me.

Once my mind had cleared enough to realize where I was, I shook my head. "It is nothing. I must have been dreaming." Cautiously, I laid back down, curling into his side. My heart was pounding, and my stomach felt as if it had turned inside out--again.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked mildly.

"About the older man," I whispered as a shudder ran over me that was so cold, it was as if the fingers of a Nazgûl were counting each bone up my spine.

He put the book aside and pulled me closer. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

I still had the dream imprinted on my eyes. I saw the man grab Legolas, and then his arm drew back and began to make a straight motion that would go across Legolas’ throat. I certainly did not want to talk about that. Saying the words seemed to make it too real. Still, I wanted to talk about something until the vision faded back into that dark corner in my head where I stored such horrifying thoughts like big hairy spiders and the possible death of my cousin. There were many choices of subjects that flitted around the edges of what I was truly seeing. Ten men had died. I hesitated for only a few seconds. "I did not kill him," I stated, trying to determine if this was a good circumstance or a bad detail.

"No," Seregon answered softly. "It was Aldamir’s arrow that killed him."

I nodded my head. There was a part of me that wanted to be the one who stopped harm from coming to someone I loved. There was another part of me that did not want to be responsible for ending another person’s life. It was not so much this particular man I felt bad about, though he had not been exactly cruel to us if you did not count the part where he tried to kill Legolas. It was more of an overview about taking the life of anything or anyone. As an Elf, I had been taught since I could draw breath that all life was sacred. Unfortunately, not all living creatures saw my life or the lives of my people as worthy of much more than a quick death. I did not even want to think about what I had heard that orcs do to Elves. I could not imagine who would think up such things as our ruined relatives did. Now, there was a shocking thought: We are distant kin of orcs--very distant, I might add. I knew my brother could vouch for that. He has on more than one occasion insinuated that I was more orc than Elf. Still, I knew one day when I became a warrior, I would do what I had to do. At that moment, I did not think I was ready for dealing out death. There were too many hazy areas in the concepts of good and evil that I did not understand. Orcs were easy, even if they had once been Elves. It was the other various shades of life that were giving me a difficult time.

Seregon slid down in the bed until he was face to face with me. He took my chin in his fingers and looked me straight in the eye. "Daeron, what you did was very brave. I am glad you were near and could help Legolas." He kissed me on the forehead. "I am very proud of you, little brother. Some day you will be a fine warrior."

I wanted to be a warrior; I knew I did, but there was something in his voice that made me think he was saddened by the idea. Since I could not discern why this would be, I took to heart his praise and held on to it. I pressed into his chest, putting my arms around him as best I could. "I am glad you came for me," I said.

A slow smile spread across his lips. "As it turns out, little brother, I cannot do without you." There, curled against this large powerful Elf, is where I fell asleep. The men did not bother my dreams any further that night.

I found out at morning meal, though, that there is no rest for the weary. Borgil, our dour and cranky tutor, was expecting us for lessons.

"Can we not just go to training early?" Legolas asked. I nodded my approval at Legolas’ suggestion that we dispense with Borgil and his lessons for the day. Had we not suffered enough already?

Thranduil did not even raise his head from where he had bent to take of bite of porridge. Only his eyebrows inched upwards as he looked at us. He said nothing. Obviously, that was out of the question.

Once Uncle had completed his meal, he sat back in his chair and sighed. "It is good to have everyone home and at this family table," he said. There were smiles all around. Even the prospect of having to resume lessons did not dampen my happiness for being home and for Erelas being there with us.

However, Uncle knows how to summon rain clouds. "Legolas and Daeron, when you have finished your meal, I wish to see you in my office," he told us calmly. My heart thudded and my mouth dropped open. He was not going to forget that we left our appointed play area.

My feet dragging as if rocks had been placed in my boots, I trudged alongside an equally unhappy Legolas to Uncle’s office. We stood looking at the door for as long as we dared under the watchful eye of the guard. Legolas appeared to have frozen to the floor, so I knocked gently. It is possible that I rapped a bit too softly in hopes that no one would hear, and we could go on to Borgil in the library. Lessons were looking far more appealing than they had earlier.

To our dismay, Thranduil bade us to enter. Aldamir, Seregon and Erelas were all present. They were seated; we were not. That did not bode well for us.

"First of all, I do not think I have to tell you how relieved and overjoyed this family is to have the two of you returned to us safely," Uncle began, "but, I will tell you because I want you to understand how precious you are to us. You are valuable to this family and this realm beyond measure. Your happiness and your safety is of utmost importance to us. That is why we teach you. We strive to provide you with the tools and the skills you need to succeed and to survive. It is our prayer that you will grow to understand them and to apply them wisely in your lives." He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes, Adar."

"Yes, Uncle."

"It is for this reason we endeavor to help you learn from your mistakes. No matter how much we teach, only you choose how you will behave. When you err, it is my responsibility to see that you understand your errors and are held responsible for them."

We both nodded miserably.

"Before we attend to the matter of you leaving your play area, there is something more we must discuss," he said. Now, I really was frightened. I was expecting the play area transgressions to be addressed, but else had we done? What happened to all that joy he had just told us about?

"What happened to you was a terribly serious and frightening experience." His voice softened a bit as he looked us over. "I would not have had either of you see such things at your age, and I am sorry that you did. The world can be a dangerous place, and, as you have found out, the forest is dangerous even for those who know what lies in wait. I am told that the two of you acted bravely and obeyed well during the battle and afterwards. You kept your heads and remained calm despite the danger and the fear I am certain you felt." He smiled at us. "I am very proud of you."

I could not help the weak, but pleased smile that lifted the corners of my mouth.

"Daeron," he said, addressing me.

My smile faded, and my breath caught in my throat. Here it was; the moment where all the relief and happiness he felt for having us back within his grasp would evaporate, and he would throw me in the dungeon like a barrel of bad wine. I would be forgotten, becoming nothing more than a cobweb in Elven history. In the future, Elves would say such things as: Do you remember that elfling ... what was his name? The one who disobeyed the king and was captured by those men who we have no idea who they were? Naneth and Seregon would be shamed and deny ever knowing anyone who would do such a thing. In a book about the early Eldar days that Borgil made us read, I read where it was said that elflings rarely needed any teaching. Elflings must have changed a great deal since then. We are now in trouble regularly.

Uncle’s eyes never left me, but a softness came into them when he saw I was near to fainting dead away from fright. "What you did was very brave," he said kindly, "and we all believe your actions saved Legolas’ life. If you had not distracted the man for the crucial moment that Aldamir needed to obtain a clean shot, it is likely the man would have killed Legolas. For that, you will always have my gratitude." He smiled warmly at me. "You already have my love." He reached into a side drawer of his desk and removed my dull, but ever-loved knife. "I believe this belongs to you."

I took it from him, shocked and in a strange way very pleased. My knife was spotlessly clean, still dull, I might add, but cleaner and shinier than it had ever been. And I was certainly relieved I was not going to be moving my bed to the deepest, darkest recess of a cave.

After Seregon confirmed I had not killed the man, I felt somewhat better about my part in what had happened. It was a feeling I cannot describe. I have heard warriors talking before, and they commented that killing the enemy from the trees was one thing, but to look into your enemy’s eyes as you drove your blade into his flesh was another. I did not look into the man’s eyes as I pressed with all my weight to drive a blade into his back, but I still felt the tearing of clothing and skin, the ripping of muscle, and the rush of hot blood onto my hand. I realized the pain I caused when he arched back onto me. I felt the jolt of the impact of Aldamir’s arrow strike his neck. I did not plan to stab the man, but I never even thought about it when the time came. I simply reacted to the threat to Legolas. I am not certain if that is really bravery; perhaps it was nothing more than blind fear. Still, I was pleased with the outcome. Legolas was unharmed. Uncle and Seregon were proud of me-- much to my relief. I only wished I knew how I felt about using my weapons on another person--except dumb elleths, of course. I knew I would not do that again. "Thank you, my lord," I muttered. Legolas smiled at me. I smiled back, but I knew I looked more bewildered than happy.

Uncle turned to his officers. "If you will excuse us now, I wish to speak with Legolas and Daeron privately." All three of them rose gracefully, bowed to the king, and went out. Erelas placed a comforting hand on both our shoulders as he passed. The door clicked softly behind him as he closed it.

"I asked your brothers to leave, because this is not a warrior or trainee matter," Thranduil told us. "This is a matter between me, my son, and my nephew."

Legolas drew a deep breath. He was steadying himself for the punishment-wielding adar. I was still so in shock that I was not altogether present at the time. In my mind, I had just gotten out of the dungeon; I hardly had time to contemplate my next demise. I gripped my knife tightly to steady myself.

Thranduil’s eyes lost the benevolent look. The stern ruler was back. "You willfully disobeyed me. I do not make rules for you without just cause. I may not always choose to disclose to you my reasons, as is my right as parent, elder and king. It is your responsibility to abide by my rules. Thus, when you disregard my laws, you are then subject to the consequences. The consequences in this case have already been grave. They could have been deadly for the two of you. Your careless actions endangered the lives of warriors. I would not have you forget this. For the next two weeks, after you have completed your lessons and training, you will attend the laundress in her daily routine. Your free time until evening meal will be devoted to whatever she requires of you."

Laundry? Uncle was sentencing us to do laundry? I did not particularly care to wash myself much less everyone in the households’ clothing, and certainly not the apparel I did not even wish to think about. Legolas looked fairly stricken. The king’s son scrubbing ladies unmentionables? Or worse, me lathering up my nana’s nightdress. I was appalled.

"Do you understand?" Uncle asked.

We both nodded, too dumbstruck to utter a word.

"Good," he said. "She will expect you this day."

Training that day went well, even though everyone we saw wanted to hear the story about what had happened. Neither of us had much to say about the subject. The masters kindly tried to keep everyone on task and away from discussing it.

Our afternoon passed far too quickly for me. I had much rather have stayed on the archery range and loosed a thousand arrows than go to the laundry hut. But Orocarni dismissed us, and our time had run out. We were cornered like two pathetic rabbits.

After we had put away our training weapon, we were nearly back out the Great Doors to go to the little hut that sat on the eastern side of the stronghold near the river, when we met Erelas. "Where are you two going?" he asked, a happy relaxed grin on his face.

"To the laundry," Legolas grimaced.

"To the laundry?" he repeated, evidently surprised we would seek amusement in such a place. Of course, he was right. There would be no fun going on. Suddenly, his face lit with understanding, "Ah.h..h. Adar’s consequences." Uncle never punished us, he gave us consequences. Personally, I could not see the difference. They felt like the same thing.

Wearing identical sour looks on our faces, we nodded.

He smiled sympathetically. "Do not worry too much. Morwen, the overseer, is very kind. She tells wonderful stories."

"She does?" I exclaimed, surprised that anyone who spent their days slogging around in suds would know anything beyond how to remove stains.

"Yes," he grinned. "She was here when Oropher first came to the Greenwood. She knows many good tales."

Legolas frowned as he thought this over. "How do you know this?"

Erelas laughed aloud. "We have met." He flicked his hand out as if we required someone to point us in the right direction. "You best hurry. You do not wish to be late."

"That sounds like a story we should ask her about," I suggested as we started to go.

Legolas stopped after we had only walked a few steps and turned back to Erelas. "Erelas," he called.

He turned back toward us. "Yes."

"What did Nana say to all of you when she came into the dining room after we had gone to the healer?"

"You mean about the aewbas?"

Legolas nodded.

"What you would expect, I suppose. She was not pleased. I think she mentioned how irresponsible we were several times. She used the word inattentive frequently, too." His smile broadened. "I do think she believes these shortcomings to be failings of our gender." He raised his eyebrow. "I do not suppose you will do that again, will you?"

I huffed and crossed my arms. "I do not suppose so, unless you are along, and we will tell her you gave us the extra pouches."

He laughed happily, completely undaunted by my threats. "Giving you one extra pouch is not an invitation to eat the entire winter store." Still chuckling, he turned back down the corridor and called over his shoulder, "No, my little friends, you made the decision to eat yourselves all the way to the healers." He was fairly bent over laughing. "You were both as green as mid-summer!" He took a swipe at the air, his shoulders were still bouncing in glee as he left us standing behind.

"I used to like him," I muttered as I watched Erelas chuckling along on his merry way.

Morwen greeted us warmly and then took us on a tour of the three-room cottage used for the laundry. The entry room was small, warm, and dry. "This," she told us, "is where we sew new clothing and make repairs." Surely, she would not require us to sew. I knew while in novice training we would be taught simple techniques to mend our own clothing so that we could repair it in the field if need be. There was even some basic sewing required to maintain our equipment. But I simply could not see myself stitching up tears in Seregon’s tunics or leggings. My face felt frozen into a look so dumb that someone should have checked me for signs of life. Legolas was no better. He stared blankly as if his mind had been wiped cleaner than a washed dinner plate. I glanced around the room in hopes of jarring some sign of intelligent life from myself. Nothing of great import stirred in my head, but I did observe that there were several chairs and small tables. Ceiling to floor shelves along the walls held a wide range of colorful fabrics and threads. Only one other seamstress was there, and she smiled at us from where she was stitching a tunic. She probably felt sorry for us. I know I would have.

The second room was much larger. Situated around the room were three sunken fire pits with large footed pots seated over them for washing. The fires underneath these vats had gone out. There were another two pots used for rinsing. In this room we found two more females wringing out some things they had just taken from the rinse vats. They smiled and nodded. Valar help me! I moaned to myself. I was going to have to learn to stew clothing! Somehow I doubted this knowledge would come in handy when I became a warrior, and it was my turn to cook.

Morwen led us to the last room. It was banked on the North side with a large fireplace. A fire was stoked high to heat the room. "This is the drying room," she told us as she continued to explain the process. The floor was slanted stone with deep crevices cut lengthwise into its surface above which garments were hung from carved wooden hangers. The excess water dripped into the canals and ran out into a small stream that tumbled down a fern-infested decline into the Forest River. I sighed heavily and took in the rows of garments dripping into the trickling rivulets. I imagined I would add my tears to those streams before this was over.

When she had completed showing us the lay of the laundry, she led us back into the wash room and picked up two buckets. "We have completed washing for today. I would like you to take these buckets and dip out the pots. The water should be cool enough by now." She motioned for us to fill our buckets. We plunged them into the two closest pots. "Come I will show you were we empty the used water." She took us to a small reservoir behind the cottage. "The soaps we use are rich in nutrients. The gardeners use this water to irrigate seedlings and new plants for the gardens." She smiled. "They tell me it makes them grow strong."

I looked at Legolas. Now, this was a piece of information I could have lived without all the way to the Undying Lands and never missed. I had no idea. I could tell that Legolas did not know this either and was equally as impressed as I was that we could add this to our known facts about doing laundry in the Greenwood. All I could think about were the interesting facts we would be able to share with our fellow warriors while out on patrol. If one could die from embarrassment or utter stupidity, that would have been my moment.

"When you have completed emptying the pots, I would like you to replenish the wood for tomorrow’s fires." She showed us the woodpile outside and where we were to stack the pieces in wood boxes inside.

As we went back to dipping water, I looked to see where Morwen had gone. She was back in the sewing room. "Do you think there are any spiders in that woodpile?" I asked.

"Not any really big ones," Legolas said, sincerely, but his eyes twinkled with mischief.

I sloshed water from my bucket down his leg. "How clumsy of me." I grinned at him. "Sorry."

"Try not to spill the water, " Morwen called cheerfully. Legolas had the nerve to laugh. Next time, I would put the bucket on his head.

Thus, we spent our first day in forced labor.

When we returned to the palace, we met Erelas coming out of the Great Doors. His pack and weapons were swung over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Legolas asked, obviously startled to find his brother leaving again so soon.

Erelas smiled brightly. "I have duties to attend, little one. I will be home again soon."

"But you are on leave. You just got home!" Legolas protested.

"Things change, Legolas."

"Has something happened?" I asked. I am sure my eyes were wide enough to allow my eyeballs to fall out. I did not even want to think about any more bad dealings going on in our woods. As far as I know, bad things have been going in the forest since before I was born, but I still did not want to think about them.

"Nothing important," Erelas said. "Well, my younger brother and my cousin were kidnaped recently, but that is nothing to worry about. They were rescued by brave, handsome warriors. All is well." Then he smiled, his eyes dancing with mirth at our shocked looks.

"I was there," Legolas replied dryly.

I nodded my head. "Yes, I have always thought Ostoher was unusually good looking. I will have to tell him how much we appreciate his coming to our rescue." I cocked my head as if thinking deeply. "Oh! Were you there, too?"

Erelas laughed aloud and rumpled my hair. "You are incorrigible, Daeron. Do try to stay out of trouble while I am gone."

Despite Erelas’ and my jesting, Legolas continued to scowl. "I wish you did not have to go so soon."

"As do I," Erelas said, "but duty calls. I will be back before you know it." He bent and pulled Legolas to him, giving him a sound hug. "Keep Daeron out of mischief." When he released Legolas, he gathered me to him and squeezed tightly. "Watch my errant little brother until I can," he said.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone from us and down the steps. As we turned to watch him go, we saw his patrol waiting with his horse on the other side of the bridge. Erelas stowed his pack and mounted. Before giving the command to ride out, he turned and gave us a bright happy smile. With a quick wave of his hand, the small band of warriors fell in behind him, and they moved out.

"That is a part of being a warrior I might not like," I said as I watched them fade from our sight. "He did not get to complete his leave."

Legolas continued to look after his brother even though I knew he could no longer see him. He nodded, turned back to the doors and went inside. I sighed and followed.

By the end of the first week of laundry duty, we had become quite proficient in emptying the pots and stacking mound upon mound of firewood. Thankfully, I had seen no spiders, and I was looking.

Erelas was right; Morwen was easy to be around and quite pleasant. She talked to us freely, praising us when we worked hard and gently prodding us onward when we lagged behind. Since we were getting our work done more quickly, we found we often had a short recess in our duties at the end of our appointed time.

"Erelas said you knew Oropher," Legolas said one day when we were finished but had close to an hour before we were due back at the palace for evening meal.

"Yes, I did," Morwen said. "My family has long lived under these trees."

"I did not know him," Legolas told her, a tinge of sadness lowering his voice.

"No, I suppose you did not, " she smiled sadly at him. "You are far too young."

I turned my head back to Legolas to wait on what his reply would be, but he said nothing. He simply glanced down at his boots and picked at a loose thread on his tunic. Even Morwen looked as if she expected him to continue asking questions. It seemed an unnatural place to stop, so I asked what I thought was the appropriate next question. I knew he wanted to know about his grandfather. I might even ask her later if she knew my adar. "What was Oropher like?" I asked.

Morwen smiled and motioned us to sit in two of the chairs opposite her. When we were seated, she put her sewing down in her lap for a moment. A wistful faraway look glittered in her eyes. "I remember the first time I saw him. He was so tall and fair. It was most unusual to see such pale golden hair among our kind. Still, we were expecting him. There had already been much discussion about the Sindar lords coming among us. We had leaders of a sort whom we looked to in times when decisions were to be made, but we had no formal leadership like that of the Noldor and Sindar Elves. We lived freely among the trees, and we kept mainly only unto ourselves. But we did gather news from abroad. When we heard about the horrors of Doriath, and the unrest plaguing all Middle-earth, we knew our days of carefree life among the trees would eventually be threatened by this shadow. We also knew we must have some sort of formal leadership. It only made sense to accept the lords as guides since they were well acquainted with the movements of this evil. Oropher had seen much, and he shared our love of the trees and our contentment to live in a simple unencumbered way. He offered to us a way to protect ourselves and our way of life. He brought the knowledge of military might and organized patrolling to see our borders unmolested."

"How did he become king?" I asked. I had always wondered how this happened. Oropher was not one of these wood Elves, yet he came to them and was proclaimed king over them.

"He was already a Sindarin prince, an Elf of royal lineage." She nodded her head. "It was by our own decision that he was given such title. Since we were more isolated than many of the other Elven folk, we thought to grant him such title would carry more weight with those who might wish to bring us harm. We would become an organized and formidable foe to our enemy. We pledged our allegiance to him in return for his making us and our welfare his purpose. He gave of himself willingly, and we likewise gave to him without reserve. Eventually, we grew to not only respect and admire him, but we learned to love him as the kind and wise leader that he was." She cast her eyes to the wall above our heads. "There was great sorrow under these trees when he and so many others were lost at Dagorlad."

"Then Adar became king," Legolas whispered.

Morwen nodded and brought her gaze back to us. "Yes. Of course, we already loved your adar. We had known him since the coming of his adar to us. Thranduil was young when the Sindar first came, but he, Daeron’s adar, Tarondor, and their close friend, Aldamir--for whom your brother is named-- had worked tirelessly to see our borders safe. They lost much at the Last Alliance, too." After a moment, she smiled at Legolas. "Your adar has led us well in troubled times. Oropher would be most proud."

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes as we let this information sink in. We did, of course, know most of this from our lessons, but it was somehow more real to hear it from someone who was not a family member or a stuffy old tutor.

"Did you know my grandmother as well?" Legolas asked.

Morwen laughed. "Yes, of course. She became a dear friend of mine. Queen Luinil was one of the most wonderful Elves I have ever known. Her heart was as open and loving as all the forest." Leaning toward us, her eyes twinkled as if she had thought of some devilish delight she wanted to include us in. "There was no one who could maintain a firm grasp on Oropher when he was angry or upset like she could. She was very calm, but stern when needs be." Morwen’s smile broadened. "And she was quite mischievous at times. Oropher was usually her target." Morwen raised her brows. "Did you know, Legolas, that she was an accomplished archer?"

Legolas nodded uncertainly. "I have been told she was good with a bow."

Morwen laughed aloud. "Good? No, little one, she was extraordinarily proficient. She could even best your grandfather in a match and did so at every opportunity. She said it kept him humble." She looked as if she was thinking this over for a moment. "Of your adar’s sons, you are most like her, Legolas. As a matter of fact, Thranduil is much like her. Thranduil has his adar’s fire when aroused, but he has his naneth’s restraint. You have your grandmother’s gift with the bow." She nodded again. "Yes, you are Luinil’s grandson. She is greatly missed."

We knew what had happened to Legolas’ grandmother. I was sure Morwen did not speak of this to Legolas out of concern for his feelings. Luinil was lost. While on a spring outing to the southern regions of the mountains of Mirkwood, her party had been attacked by orcs. None of the Elven party survived. Naneth said Oropher never recovered from losing her. She said that he would have faded if it had not been for the great needs of his people and the love he bore for his son. His grief turned to rage and that wrath was quenched before the Doors of Mordor. His son became king.

"I always thought Adar was like Oropher," Legolas said, trying to sort out all this new information.

"In many ways, he is," Morwen agreed. "Thranduil is the king and conducts himself as such, but he is tempered by his naneth’s design." Placing her sewing in her lap, she leaned forward to caress both of our faces. "And he loves you two very much."

I felt my cheeks heat up and looked over to see that Legolas was blushing, too.

It was best, I thought, to move on to another topic. "Did you know my adar?" I asked.

"Yes, I did," she answered. "He and the king were very close. Thranduil, Tarondor and Aldamir were friends from the time they were not much younger than the two of you. Though I did not know them until the Sindar came to us, it was obvious to see how close they all were. And of course, your ada was the brother of Legolas’ naneth." She looked me over closely and nodded. "You look very much like your adar." I flushed deeply and felt the swell of pride I always felt when I thought about him. "He was tall and very handsome. And he had the most delightful sense of humor." She chuckled. "I think he viewed the world slightly different than most Elves, and in his view he saw only happiness and a multitude of ways to keep everyone around him laughing and singing. He was well loved by all." She studied me again. "I have heard that you are very good with a blade." I nodded and while I thought I was pretty good and had been told so, that did not mean I was. I hoped I was not lying too much. "Your adar was quite accomplished in the use of such weapons. He would be pleased to know how much you are like him."

I was pleased, too.

We had spent our first week of laundry duty when our morning meal was interrupted again by a messenger. This was getting to be a regular event, and I knew enough by this time to know that it could not be good news. The guard bowed to the king and queen, and then placed his hand over his heart in salute to Aldamir. "My lord, a message has been delivered for you."

Aldamir nodded and took the rolled parchment. As he read the contents, his expression did not change, but he seemed to pale slightly and something passed through his eyes that caused me to feel alarm. He tilted the parchment slightly for Seregon to read. I looked to Legolas and saw that he was watching his brother intently. Aldamir rose quietly from his place and went to his adar. Thranduil took the note and read it. He looked calm, but I could tell he had felt a jolt when he saw what the note said. He placed his hand on Lalaith’s shoulder and laid the note on the table for her to see. She went completely white as if every bit of blood had drained from her face. Her hand trembled slightly as she passed the note to my naneth. Nana stood and said, "I will look after the little ones."

Seregon stood and took his place at Aldamir’s side.

Thranduil took Lalaith by the hand as she rose and told her, "Go ahead, my love. I will talk to the elflings and will be with you shortly." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed Aldamir and Seregon. They were gone in a only a second’s time with Auntie safely tucked between them.

Thranduil turned to face us, observed us quietly for a moment and then came to where we were still seated. Both of us had been so stilled by the quickly unfolding events neither of us had stood when he did. At that point, I do not think he even noticed our fracturing of protocol. He knelt between us but his attention seemed to be centered on Legolas. "Erelas has been wounded," he said quietly. "He is being taken to his chambers now, and the healers are with him. Until I see him I do not know how grave his situation is, but he will be well cared for." Legolas went as pale as his naneth had. Thranduil pulled his sons close and kissed him on the forehead. "I do not wish for you to worry, and I will send word to you as soon as I can, but I must go to him now, Legolas. You and Daeron go to your lessons and wait with Borgil." He stood and patted each of us with as much reassurance as he could muster and started out.

"Ada," Legolas called after him, fear evident in his voice. Uncle stopped and looked back at us. "Can I not see him?"

"Not now, Legolas. The healers will be very busy, and we do not want to be in their way. As soon as possible, I promise you." He was gone quickly and quietly.

"Come," my naneth said, softly. "I will see you to the library."

On mornings when we had lessons, Legolas and I would leave morning meal and return to our chambers for our books and tablets, but on this morning I knew we would not be allowed back into the family wing. Legolas and I followed her wordlessly to the library. I could feel Legolas shivering beside me and knew of nothing I could do to comfort him. I was frightened and worried, too. Naneth hugged us both before she sent us into the room. She motioned to Borgil, and he stepped outside into the corridor with her. She gently closed the door.

Legolas stopped dead and stared at the table where we normally sat for our lessons. Not knowing what else to do, I stopped beside him. "What if he dies?" he whispered.

"He will not," I answered and without forethought, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him quickly. "He will not leave us."

Borgil came in the door and closed it quietly behind him. He smiled kindly at us and placed an arm around both of us. "Come. Let us work on art this morning." It was our favorite time of lessons when he let us draw or do something colorful and fun. On this day, such activity seemed frivolous and difficult to contemplate. But I knew he was trying to distract us with something pleasurable. I appreciated the gesture.

While we worked making a map of Mirkwood by pasting dyed sand for our colors, Borgil told us stories. The stories seemed less about teaching than usual and seemed to be more like the kind of stories our parents told us at bedtime. They were about squirrels and rabbits, deer and horses. His voice was softer and lighter, his tone rising and falling in cadence with how he thought a rabbit would talk or a squirrel would chatter. I noticed the measured tones of his voice more than I did the words. The constant sound of his voice was welcome and soothing company as we scattered colored sand over our maps.

At midday a servant brought our meal to the library. We were normally not allowed any food or drink there, but it did not seem important at that time. We had finished our maps and gone on to painting whatever we wanted. I was making a half-hearted attempt at fashioning a horse in a field and Legolas was painting a tree. We put our papers aside and sat down to eat, but neither of us felt any desire for food. I drank my cider but found the stew too hard to swallow. Legolas sipped at his drink, though he barely touched his stew except to move it around in the bowl. Borgil leaned forward from his place and squeezed Legolas’ shoulder. "You must eat something, little one. I know you are worried, but you going hungry will not help Erelas. He would not wish for you to worry so." He sat back up. "And it would worry him if he knew you were not taking care of yourself." Legolas placed a carrot in his mouth and chewed slowly. I decided I would try to eat, too.

When the time came for us to go to training, Borgil told us that our masters knew we would not be coming and why. We were to stay with him.

The afternoon wore on and still we had received no word. Borgil told us stories tirelessly and read to us from books and scrolls about the awakening of the Elves, and the time before the sun came to Arda. He read to us about the creation and the Valar and the music. He sang to us and played a harp. I had no idea he could sing so well and found myself becoming drowsy with the soft lulling of his music. Legolas was curled up next to me on a large reading couch, and his head drifted to rest on my arm as we listened. And we waited. It seemed like an eternity of waiting.

It was almost time for evening meal when the door finally opened. Aldamir came in with a tired but pleasant enough smile on his face. Legolas and I jumped up from the couch. "You can see Erelas now," he said. He bent slightly to our level. "He has been given something to help him sleep so he may not know you are there. Right now, Erelas needs to rest. Adar will tell you about what happened later. Adar and Naneth are with him."

Legolas and I trailed along behind Aldamir as we walked to Erelas’ chambers. Legolas seemed to be holding his breath, and I was not sure if I were breathing enough for both of us or if I were really holding my breath like him. I simply did not seem to be getting enough air as I wrestled with my fear of seeing Erelas wounded, and my overwhelming desire to see him.

Aldamir opened Erelas chamber door quietly and stood aside for us to enter. The room was dimly lit and far too tidy for Erelas’ chamber. When he was in residence it often looked as if a fell wind had torn through it, books scattered like unfurled leaves, clothing tossed over the furniture and even after his bed was made by the servants, the coverlet was often squished and shifted. But now, his chamber was frighteningly neat. There were no signs of blood stained bandages or clothing, nothing to give evidence that he had been wounded, except for some small containers with herbs or potions of some kind arranged neatly on the bedside table. Aunt and Uncle were seated by the bed. The healer was standing off to the side in front of the low burning fire, scribbling furiously with a quill into a small binder of parchment.

When we came fully into the room, Lalaith extended her hand to Legolas, and he went to her. Thranduil motioned me to him. Safely leaning against Uncle’s knee with his hands gently on my shoulders, I took in the sight of Erelas for the first time. As badly as I wanted to see him, I think I had been nearly afraid to truly look at him, fearful of what I would find. He was lying on his back with the deep forest green and gold coverlet pulled all the way up to his chin. His face was so pale he looked as white as the linen pillow covering upon which his head rested. His dark hair had been brushed, the braids removed, and it had been arranged neatly. My heart pounded. Erelas’ eyes were completely closed! I could see his long dark lashes resting softly in repose. If I had not been able to see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, I would have thought him dead.

"He is sleeping now," Auntie told us. "The healers assure us he will be well again soon."

Legolas reached tentatively to touch his brother’s shoulder, but stopped short of actually making contact and withdrew his hand.

Auntie’s hand caressed the crown of Legolas’ head. "You will not hurt him, Legolas. I do not think he will even awaken."

Slowly, Legolas stepped forward and gathered strands of Erelas’ hair between his fingers. Gently, he leaned over and laid a kiss on his brow. "Get better soon," he whispered.

I did not wish to intrude, but I very much wanted to touch him, just to feel his presence and solid form under my hand. I reached out and stroked his covered hand. "Listen to your brother, Erelas," I whispered. "He is wise beyond his years." I felt Thranduil chuckle behind me. Lalaith was smiling.

"I am certain he will heed your advice," Thranduil said, warmly.

As Legolas backed away, he looked to his adar. "Will you tell us what happened?"

Thranduil nodded. "I will, but first I wish to speak with Aldamir and Seregon for a moment. He turned me slightly more toward him and made certain he had Legolas’ attention. "I will meet you in the family dining room in a few minutes. It is time for evening meal, and I desire this family to dine together this evening. Your nana will stay with Erelas while I go with you to our meal."

Legolas looked up at his naneth. "Will you not eat, too, Nana?"

"Yes, love," she smiled. "I will stay here and have something brought to me. But I want you and Daeron to go with your adar. Noreth will see you two to bed this evening."

"May I not stay here with you?" Legolas asked.

"You need to eat, and you will rest better in your own bed. Erelas will not leave my sight," she glanced at Thranduil, "or your adar’s when he returns."

"Come, my little spring buds," Thranduil said as he stood. "We will let Erelas rest." I looked back on my sleeping cousin and added another reason for sympathy. The healers must have given him something stronger than they usually give us to sleep. He had not noticed any of us or our conversation at all. I wondered if what they had given him tasted as bad as the tea they had us drink. Poor Erelas, I shuddered, remembering the bitter taste of the sleeping draught.

As we passed the door of Seregon’s office, I noticed it stood slightly ajar. Light filtered out into the hallway. I stopped suddenly and stared at the crack. "Uncle, may I speak with Seregon for a moment?"

"Of course," he smiled. "Go ahead and when you have finished, have Seregon meet me in Aldamir’s office."

"Thank you," I muttered. I went to the door and pushed it open as quietly as I could. His assistant, Elendur, was seated at his desk.

He looked up and smiled. "Come in, Daeron."

"May I see my brother?"

He nodded and went to announce my arrival.

I found Seregon behind his desk as well. He put aside the quill he was writing with and smiled at me. "It is good to see you, little one. Have you been to visit Erelas?"

I nodded and went straight toward him. He looked a little puzzled for a moment, but held out his arms as I walked into them. He gathered me to his chest, and I sat down on one of his legs, throwing my arms around his neck. I do not know where it came from or what exactly I was thinking, but I knew all I felt was relief for Erelas and some unnamed fear for him. I burst into tears as I buried my face in his broad, and to me unmovable, shoulder of strength.

"What is wrong, little one?" he asked as he held me tighter. "Erelas will recover."

"I know," I sobbed into his hair. "I do not want you to get hurt, too."

"Oh," he crooned as if he suddenly understood far more than I did. He ran his hand over my shaking back. "I am well," he said. He pushed me back slightly to look at me. "I promise to always be careful and do everything within my power to stay safe. You and Naneth are far too important to me to not do so."

"But," I hiccoughed, "even then sometimes bad things happen. Erelas was being careful, was he not?"

"Yes, I am certain he was, and you are right, sometimes things are beyond our control. But I will never willingly place myself in a danger I cannot handle." He smiled sadly at me. "Sometimes all we have is faith in the Valar that they will look over us and keep us safe. It is warrior’s life to be in the face of danger. You know this."

I nodded.

"But we work hard to keep our skills sharp and at ready. That is why we have you and all the other young ones train so strenuously. We do everything within our power to prevent the loss of an Elf’s life."

"Still, it happens," I said. "Ada was lost, and he was one of the best."

"Yes, Adar was one of the best warriors I have ever known. He was skilled beyond measure and brave and true. I do not know why he had to die, Daeron. I have asked myself that many times. But I will say this: Adar loved his duty. He gave his life doing something he fully believed in. He made a sacrifice that aided in seeing you and Nana and me safe. I think, if we could ask him, he would say that he would do it again."

"He would chose to leave us?" I asked, astonished at this thought.

"No, Daeron, he would not chose to leave. He would chose to protect us, even if it meant he had to stand between us and the evil that took his life."

"Seregon," I said, running my fingers over the shoulder seam of his tunic. "What happened to Adar?"

Seregon’s eyes became a little glazed as he thought back over his memory of the events. At least, I thought that was where his mind traveled, for he looked distant as if he were watching something unfold that I could not see. "We knew that there had been a change in the forest to our south. The king was concerned and felt it was time that we investigate what stirred in our woods. He and Adar led us to the southern regions in search of the source of this change."

"You were there?" I asked, the shock of this knowledge leaving me feeling slightly lightheaded.

He nodded solemnly. "Even the king felt he needed to see for himself what threatened the peace of the forest. Thranduil can sense things about his realm in a way that none of us can truly understand. He is connected by love and devotion, and as the bearer of this responsibility, he felt his presence was required. Adar worried for his safety and attempted to dissuade him from going. But Thranduil would not be discouraged from what he saw as his duty. He commanded Aldamir to stay behind to ensure continued rule if things went ill for him, but he would not stay. The king asks nothing of his warriors that he would not do himself. Erelas was still a novice at the time, and it would not have been prudent to leave such a burden upon one so young. You and Legolas were mere babes. I was allowed to go as a captain of our small force. And things did go ill for us on that mission. We ran into a band of orcs. They were small in number and easily dispatched by us, but before the battle had ended they were joined by a larger group. We had already spent our arrows in the first assault and had taken to the ground with our blades. We were sorely outnumbered, and it appeared for a time that none of us would escape. Thranduil and Adar battled fiercely at one another’s sides until they were separated by the sheer force of the combat. I fought at the side of another warrior whom I had known since we were elflings. He was felled by an orc, and I was left to fend off three of the enemy. Thranduil moved to intercept one of the orcs who sought to corner me in a thicket. More orcs rushed him, wounding him in the side. As soon as possible, Adar came to our aid, but a wounded Thranduil and I continued to try to battle a number far too great even for the skills of one so fierce in battle as Thranduil. I was losing ground, and Thranduil was being pushed further from me. Adar dispatched two of the orcs battling Thranduil just as I stumbled and fell beneath the fierce attack of the enemy. I had been wounded in my shoulder but continued to try and ward off their blows as best I could. Adar came to my aid, swinging his blade like the wind cutting through a field of wheat. He slew orcs in a path to me only to find me losing my battle quickly. Just as an orc raised high his blade to finish me, Adar grabbed him behind and slit his throat. But in doing so, he turned his back to the remaining orcs, and they attacked him. I managed to get back on my feet. Thranduil and I, though both of us were bleeding heavily, managed to finish the small group that surrounded us. Our remaining warriors fought valiantly, and finally the orcs turned and ran, but not without a heavy cost to us. Of our group of twenty-five, nine were dead, and there was not one of those who lived who was not wounded in some manner. Thranduil’s guard had taken heavy losses. Five of the nine dead were of the Fifteen. Adar passed to the safe keeping of Mandos before we could aid him."

There were no words for the rush of emotion I felt. Adar had died to save Seregon. I could not imagine how my brother felt about this. I wanted to know, but I could not ask him such a question. The pain in his eyes was enough for me to see that he would never forget the sight of his own adar being cut down. Still I needed something more, but I did not know exactly what it was. "Was Adar awake? Did he say anything?"

Seregon shook his head slightly. "No, little one. He was gone before I could reach him."

Never before had I felt such a heaviness as I felt in my chest at that moment. It was if the entire weight of this battle that had taken my adar had come to sit upon me, and it would be mine to carry for all eternity.

I had heard Naneth and Seregon say before that they could sense Adar still. The bond of a husband and wife is so close that I am not surprised that Nana feels Ada’s presence at times. Seregon had the opportunity to know Adar, and while I am not surprised that he is still connected to him, I have always felt somewhat alone in that I cannot sense Ada like he can. I have no memories to draw upon to find the bond. Nana says that Adar and I do share a bond; I am just not old enough yet to know how to reach it. He was gone before I had even learned to walk. Since he was not able to be with us in the first years of my life, I think our bond must be weaker than his is to Seregon. I cannot feel something I have never experienced. I do not know how I will ever find my way to him.

"Daeron," Seregon said as he ran his hands lightly over my arms. "You have been through a lot these past days. You have seen things that I know are upsetting to you. Do not be discouraged. You are not expected to understand everything or to know how to deal with all you have experienced. You are young and have many years before you need worry about what being a warrior will mean." He stopped for a moment and gazed steadily into my eyes. "Daeron, you do not have to be a warrior. There are many honorable paths for an Elf to take. You may find as you grow that your interest and talents lie elsewhere."

"But I want to be warrior," I said. "I am good with a blade. I will be even better as I grow."

Seregon smiled sadly. "Yes, you are talented. But I would not have you be unhappy if the time comes and you wish to do something else. You must follow your heart."

I nodded. I knew that I would not have to be a warrior, but I would be. Perhaps, I thought, I should not tell him that again at this time. I did not want him to worry about me.

"You have plenty of time to decide what you want to be. In the meantime, there are many people who love you and will protect you. You need not worry."

Seregon was right. I did not need to worry about things I had no true understanding of for awhile yet. I had seen a glimpse into a world I knew was out there, but I had never witnessed until recent events had brought the unsettling truths of Arda to me. It was not a good place. But it was not a bad place either. I did not think I was ready to walk in that uncertain world just yet. I had been merely a visitor to this grownup world, and I was most grateful I did not have to battle orcs or strange men until I was ready. Mostly, I was grateful for those who would shield me and allow me to grow up enough to be ready to stand my ground. And when the time came, I would stand my ground. I would make my Adar proud. And maybe, just maybe, I would find a way to touch the presence of my adar.

Chapter Seven: Guarded

As we had been instructed, Legolas and I went to the dining room to await our family. Since we found ourselves alone and with nothing to distract us from a wait so long we had begun to think we would see the dawning of the next age, we pulled out our chairs far enough so that when we were seated, we could swing our feet high enough to push the tablecloth in and out. Then, we tried going in opposite directions from each other. The slight strain on the cloth pulled it against the bottom of our boots and left a small smudge of dirt. Legolas sat up and grabbed it. "Oh no! We might have to wash it!"

I brushed at the stain briskly with my hand, but it would not come off. I sighed. "You are right. I do not want to have to spend tomorrow afternoon scrubbing boot stains out of your naneth’s tablecloth."

Legolas slumped heavily against the back of his chair and sighed deeply. "Daeron, do you think Erelas will be well?"

I turned to look at him. "The healers said he would." Legolas had been acting awfully strange about Erelas as of late. I knew he was always happy to have him home. But it seemed to me that he had been unusually watchful of Erelas’ every move since he had appeared with the warriors who had come for us. Legolas looked as if he had gone back to brooding over something I did not know or could not understand. "What is wrong, Legolas? Even before he was wounded, every time Erelas was out of your sight, you have acted as if he were going to turn into a turnip or something."

Legolas did not look at me. He shrugged his shoulders as if at a loss himself for what was bothering him. "I do not know. But when we were in the forest, I felt as if I could sense the movement of something dark and frightening. Could you feel it?"

I shook my head. I had been too worried about being whisked away from our home and families to notice anything other than my pounding heart and dry, rag-stuffed mouth. "How did it feel?" I asked.

"It is hard to say exactly," he answered. "It was as if a chill came over me that I had never known before. I think it was somewhat like when you are cold and another colder wind comes through the trees that makes you feel numb to the core. I felt a strange heaviness." He looked at me. "There was something about it that made me think of Erelas being in the forest everyday. And now he is hurt."

I thought this over for a few moments. "Your naneth seems to know such things. And our parents know if we are well. Seregon says the king can sense the well being of the forest, too. Did your naneth say anything about feeling something was wrong with Erelas? She did not seem to know about him when the dispatch came."

"I do not know. They would not tell me if they were worried."

"I do not know either, Legolas. Perhaps you can see things that might happen like your naneth. Or perhaps you can sense the presence of the shadow like your adar."

He looked as if he were giving this some consideration. "I wonder if Aldamir and Erelas can sense the shadow?"’

"I do not know. We should ask them."

"Do you think the men were touched by shadow?" he asked, his eye widened slightly by what I supposed was fear that we had come closer to this ominous darkness than we had realized.

Before we could come to any conclusions about any of this, the king came in the door, followed by our brothers and my nana. We stood as we waited until Thranduil seated my naneth and had taken his chair. Once we were all seated, the servants served our meal.

The conversation was as light as Legolas’ and my appetites. I kept waiting for Thranduil to tell us what had happened to Erelas, but he seemed willing to bide his time until the meal was completed, and Legolas and I had been prompted to eat a satisfactory portion.

"Ada?" Legolas said after we had finally eaten all the small dark peas on our plates. In my opinion, they tasted suspiciously like mud, but all at the table watched and waited until each one had been consumed. "Will you not tell us what happened to Erelas?"

Thranduil nodded. "Let us retire to the sitting room. It will be more comfortable."

Once we were in the sitting room, Seregon poured a goblet of wine and offered it to Uncle. He smiled his gratitude and took it. Seregon offered one to Nana, but she shook her head. "I will go and sit with Lalaith until Thranduil returns." She turned to Legolas and me. "I will return to help you both to bed." She kissed us lightly on our heads and went out. Seregon poured another goblet, gave one to Aldamir and then seated himself at our cousin’s side on a soft couch. I noticed then how exhausted they looked. Aldamir and Seregon both settled wearily into the back of the couch as they sipped their wine.

Uncle even looked unusually tired. He rubbed his eyes and then looked to us and smiled slightly. "I know you are concerned about Erelas. In time, he will be well again. He has taken a wound to his side that the healers say is deep. Fortunately, they were able to repair the damage. His right arm is broken. The healers tell me it is not a complete break. Even though the bone is only cracked, the healers will treat it just as they would any broken bone with splinting and rest. It will take some time for it to heal and before Erelas can use it as he did."

"Is he in much pain?" Legolas asked.

"Yes," Thranduil said. "But, he has been given something to make him comfortable. In a day or two, he will be much better."

"How did it happen?" I asked. "Who did this?"

"That is one of the things I wish to talk to you two about," Uncle said. "We received word that more tracks had been sighted to the north. The men who took you were not alone. There was at least one more group. Erelas took his patrol and joined with some of the northern border guard to find them. They tracked them to a place near the border where we believe they were waiting to reunite with the group which had taken you. These men were quite skilled with their weapons, and our troops took some injury. Much to our relief, none of our warriors were lost."

"Why did they not battle from the trees like the warriors did when they came for us?’ Legolas asked.

Thranduil looked to Aldamir, and he answered. "We had hoped to take them without a fight. The opportunity to find out about these men was not available to us while they held you and Daeron. And, as you know, we were not able to take the one who survived that battle. The warriors surrounded the men, but they fought back. We had hoped to use surprise in our favor. Most of our warriors were on the ground, and some were too close to use their bows and had drawn their swords. The objective was to take all or as many as possible alive. They were a larger group than the one you saw."

"Erelas was wounded in this confrontation," Uncle told us.

"Did all the men die?" Legolas asked.

"No," Thranduil said as he leaned slightly forward. "Three were taken by our forces."

"Where are they now?" I asked.

"They are being detained so that we may question them," Uncle told us.

"But where? Where are you holding them?" Legolas asked.

"They are heavily guarded, Legolas," Uncle said. "They are being held in one of the caverns below."

"In the stronghold?" I yelped. "They are here in the palace?"

"What if they come for Daeron and me again?" Legolas cried.

"That will not happen, Legolas," his adar said. "There is no cause for you to worry. They will not come anywhere near you. They would die before they set foot out of the locked rooms below."

"We do not believe the ones who took you knew who you are," Aldamir said. "It was by chance that the two of you happened upon them. The men we have detained would have no reason to seek you out. Moreover, we do not know if the men we have even knew the other group had taken captives. As Adar said, we do believe, however, that the two groups had the intention of meeting, but that meeting was interrupted, of course. As far as we know, they had not communicated with each other. We believe the meeting was predetermined."

"Can we not go and stay with Daerada in the forest until they leave?" I asked. Our grandfather lives deep in the woods where no one would find us if Daerada did not want to be found. He can disappear like vapor in a strong wind. Come to think of it, most wood-Elves can blend into the forest as easily as a dry twig. Except Legolas and me; it turns out that we had been easier to track than a pack of charging wargs. Regardless of what my wood-Elf abilities are, the last place I had wanted to be at that moment was in the same place with any of these men.

Thranduil shook his head, but he did let a small smile grace his lips. "That will not be necessary. The men will not escape." Obviously, Uncle was far more confident than I was. I still thought it was an excellent time for Legolas and me to resume our disappearing Elf lessons with Daeradar.

Legolas cast a glance at me, and I could tell he was not convinced either. We had seen the stealth by which these humans could move. I would not have been surprised to find that they could vanish into thin air-- a feat that as a wood-Elf I should have obviously appreciated. I did not. Not to mention that I would not sleep a wink or even be able to go into my bathing chamber alone.

Thranduil seemed to sense our discomfort. He looked to Aldamir. "Post guards with both elflings until this matter is settled. They are not to be alone at any time. Have a warrior stand guard outside their bedchambers while they sleep." Aldamir nodded. Uncle looked to us. "Will this make you feel safer?"

Legolas and I nodded. I thought it did help, but my mind was racing with all sorts of possible ways the men could get past all the guards, ours included. The pictures I saw in my head were remarkably much like the aftermath of the short battle I had witnessed, only this time I saw bloodied Elves. "The men will not hurt the guards, will they?" I asked, my voice trembling despite the effort I was making to sound brave.

"No, Daeron. You know the guards will not let any harm come to you, and they will be alert. No harm will come to them," Uncle said. He turned back to Aldamir. "I would like you to post Ohtar and Sairin."

"But Ada, "Legolas protested, "they are of your guard! The Fifteen never guard anyone but you."

"It is their responsibility to guard not only me, but those of my family as well when needed. They will do as I bid, Legolas. I will be in palace also. There will be no conflict," Thranduil said.

"How will you know what these men wanted?" Legolas asked. "As far as I could tell, only two men from the group we were taken by could speak common tongue. How long will they be here? What will you do with them if they will not or cannot tell you what you want to know?"

"The three we have in custody speak common tongue fairly well," Uncle told us. "I do not know how long it will take for them to see reason and tell us their purpose for trespassing in my realm. As for what will happen to them? I do not know yet."

"I will stay with Seregon until they are gone," I announced. I do not know why I thought this suggestion would sprout wings and fly, but it seemed like a good idea to me at the time.

Seregon looked startled but before he could say anything Uncle responded. "That will not be possible, little one. Seregon has duties to attend. But, I am certain he will be available to you as much as possible."

I looked pleadingly to my brother. It is possible I even looked a little horrified. Whichever, I was certainly willing to beg at that point. Seregon smiled gently at me. "Everything will be well, Daeron. I will not be far away. Nana will be with you, and a guard will keep watch. You will be safe." I could see that it was out of my hands. But I did not have to like it.

"There is little else I can tell you at this time," Uncle said. "I want the two of you to go about your daily routines." He smiled again at us. "I hope that by tomorrow, Erelas will be able to awaken enough for you to speak to him. In the meantime, I must go to him." He nodded to Aldamir. "Go and send for Ohtar and Sairin. Seregon, you stay with the elflings until your Naneth comes for them." Uncle set aside his goblet and stood. We all came to our feet. Uncle stepped to us and kissed us both lightly on the top of our heads. "Get some rest this night. All will be well." Uncle left us then, with Aldamir following closely behind.

Nana took both of us to my bathing chamber for us to get ready for bed. Legolas and I climbed into the large tub together and washed. Normally we would have been thrilled for such an opportunity to play, but on this evening, we were both nervous as gnats. Nana combed out our wet hair, saw us into our sleeping clothes and settled us in our sitting room to read. She read to us until a soft knock sounded on the door. When she opened it, Ohtar and Sairin bowed to her. "My lady," Ohtar said, "we have come to offer watch. I will stay with young Daeron, and Sairin will escort Legolas to his chambers."

Nana smiled and beckoned them in. The guards acknowledged Legolas and me with a slight nod of their heads. "Thank you both for coming," she said. "It is time for the elflings to go to bed. I will walk with Sairin and Legolas to see Legolas tucked in, then I will return." She smiled reassuringly at me. "I will be back momentarily to tuck you in, Daeron." I looked at Ohtar and saw he was watching me with rapt interest as if I might fly to pieces or cling to my nana’s skirts. Even after Nana had gone, we watched each other with a sideways scrutiny. I was not certain if I was more afraid of him or of the men. At any rate, I was sure he would not make for a good conversation.

I suppose Othar was not used to standing guard over elflings. And I was certainly not accustomed to having someone stand guard over only me. If this was not disconcerting enough, I felt as if I had stolen away one of the king’s guards because I was as nervous as a chipmunk caught out in the open. Thranduil said there was no conflict, but I suppose that depended on whose point of view he was considering. The king may have been completely comfortable, but I certainly felt guilty about bothering one of his guards to stand over me as if I were a panicked rodent. Since I had nothing to talk about and Othar’s sharp eyes were firmly trained on me, I merely sat on the couch and directed my attention to trying to intertwine my toes. Over and over I tried. I was doing fairly well at getting them interlaced when Nana returned.

"Ohtar, I do not know what specific order you were given. Are you to stand guard outside of our apartment in the corridor, or will you be required to stand guard at Daeron’s chamber door?"

"I will do as you wish, my lady," he replied.

Nana smiled. "Then, I would be most grateful if you take your station in the corridor. I do not think there is any need for you to stand guard in the sitting room."

"As you wish," he said as he bowed to her and went out the door.

When Ohtar had gone, Nana tucked me into bed and sat down next to me. "Would you like me to read to you for a while?"

"No, Nana," I said. "I will go to sleep. I am fine."

She kissed my forehead. "Then, I must take care of a few things for Lalaith before I retire for the night. Ohtar is in the corridor should you need anything."

"You are leaving?" I croaked, my breath catching in my throat as if I had swallowed a fat fly.

"I will not be gone long. Rest at peace, my sweet one."

"Very well, Nana. I will be fine." When she left, I berated myself for being such a baby. It did not do much good. No matter how hard I tried, I could not drift into sleep, so I lay in bed and glanced nervously about my room. The fire had burned low, throwing oddly shaped shadows around my chambers. I thought I saw movement in the corner, and my heart lurched. Another shadow wavered across the wall, rising up above the stone fireplace until I had visions of shadow and flame pouring up from the bowels of the caves below me to release some previously slumbering demon of the deep. I clutched my covers tightly all the way up to the top of nose and wondered for a brief moment if I should fear me suffocating myself more than anything that might steal into my chambers. At that point, I was willing to take my chances with smothering. I had been careful to not cover my eyes so that I would be free to watch these sneaky horrors that waited for me to drift off–or stop breathing, whichever came first. As if I did not have enough to worry about, suddenly from nowhere, it occurred to me that I could not believe I had not checked under my bed before Nana left! Then there was my wardrobe! It could fit a grown Elf into it-- two of the smaller strange men. I did not even think about what to do before I jumped from the bed and fled to the sitting room. The lamps were still lit, and the fire blazed warmly in the hearth. The busy crackling of the fire was the only sound I could hear. Well, the fire and my pounding heartbeat was all I could hear. And my breathing; it seemed awfully loud. Without warning, a log burned through and fell in the grate. I was out of the door and into the corridor before it had settled.

Ohtar looked down on me. "What is it, little one?"

I opened my mouth then shut it quickly. "I... I..." I stammered at a loss for an explanation that would not humiliate me. "I only came out...I wanted to ask you...How is Isilya?" I blurted out. I had serious doubts that even a warrior as quiet as he would purchase such a bad line as useful. Still, I could think of nothing else that we had in common that might prompt me to fly out the door as if a balrog were hot on my trail. I retained enough sanity–barely-- at that moment to know he would not believe a demon was really in my chambers.

I thought I saw the beginning of a smile, but Ohtar is too well trained a warrior to let such an unacceptable thing happen. His face quickly returned to a neutral and unreadable expression. "She is well," he answered.

"That is good," I said, in a feeble attempt to sound confident. I had started this line of conversation, and I knew I had to follow it–somehow. I felt as I were groping in the dark for anything to say. "I have not seen her in a while."

Ohtar nodded.

"She is very nice."

"Thank you," he answered, a bit formally, I thought.

I slid my bare feet around on the cool smooth stone. "I suppose I should get some rest." He nodded again. "Do you need anything?" I asked, hopefully. "A drink of water or something to read?"

Ohtar ran his hand over his mouth. "No, thank you, little one. I am fine."

"Very well then," I said, making no move toward the sitting room door. "If you need anything, all you have to do is ask."

"Thank you, Daeron. I will be fine," he said. I noted that he was pressing his jaws together as he looked steadily down at me. My Nana has always told me to not grind my teeth together. She says it is not good for them. I wondered if Ohtar knew this. But, I decided that it was probably not a good idea to tell him. Since I had exhausted all I could think of to discuss with Ohtar-- except his teeth-- and he probably had nothing better to say to me other than, go to bed, we merely stood in the corridor looking at one another.

"I should go to bed now," I said again, but still I could not find my heart to go back into my chambers alone.

Ohtar nodded. After another moment of me not fulfilling my own directives, his face softened, and a slight warm smile tilted his mouth. "Daeron...if you would like..."

He did not get to finish what he was about to say because at that moment Seregon came around the corner. "Daeron!" he said. "What are you doing up?"

Ohtar straightened, nodded to him formally and placed his hand over his heart in salute. Seregon returned the acknowledgment.

"I was only..." I said, once again trying to come up something plausible for me being out in the corridor. I saw a look pass between my brother and my guard. It was one of those looks adults give one another when they want to say something but cannot because you are there.

Seregon swept me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and breathed a sigh of relief. He carried me back to my bed and tucked me in. Then he lay down next to me on top of the covers. I snuggled up next to him as he put his arm around me. "Go to sleep," he whispered.

"Seregon," I said softly, as if speaking too loudly would make him dissolve, and I would be alone again.

"Yes."

I wiggled my hand free from my covers and pointed to the highest shelf along the wall of my chambers where among the jumble of my toys and books sat one very ragged stuffed horse. "Would you get Ion for me?" I am pleased to say that he did not show any reaction to me wanting my old stuffed toy that I had put away a very long time ago. He simply slid from the bed, reached up and retrieved the battered horse. I took it from him, tucked it under the covers with me and held it tightly to my chest. Seregon took back up his place in my bed and once again hugged me close.

"I have always wondered why you named your horse Ion," he said.

I shrugged. "I do not know. I do not remember." And I did not. But I had thought that maybe I called the horse what Nana called me. I am her son, so the horse was mine. I suppose it made sense at the time.

Seregon smiled and kissed me on the head. "Good night, little brother."

"Seregon?" I whispered.

"Yes, Daeron," he sighed.

"Please do not tell anyone about Ion."

His arm tightened around me. "My lips are sealed," he promised.

When I woke the next morning, Seregon was gone, but Ion was still tucked under my arm. I scrambled quickly from the bed and tossed him back up on the shelf. I found Nana in the sitting room.

"Good morning, dear," she smiled. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine," I said, full of confidence now that it was daylight.

"I am glad to hear that. Now, hurry and get dressed. After morning meal, hopefully, you and Legolas will get to see Erelas for a few minutes."

"Is he better?" I asked, the pleasure of hearing we would be allowed to see Erelas obvious in my voice.

"He is better," Nana said, but I heard a hint of caution in her tone. "The healers say that he may be awake for a little while after morning meal."

I rushed through my morning washing routine, dressed quickly and followed Nana to the dining room. I smiled at Ohtar as I passed him, and he fell in behind us. He stopped outside at the door with Sairin, and the other guards who were normally posted nearby. Auntie and Legolas were already at the table when we arrived. Aldamir and Seregon came in soon after us and took their places. Seregon smiled brightly at me, but I could not help but wonder if he had slept at all the night before. He still looked terribly tired. When we were all seated, Auntie told us that Thranduil had stayed with Erelas until she had dined with us, and then she would return to Erelas so that Uncle could meet with his advisors.

After morning meal, Legolas and I trailed along behind Auntie and Nana to Erelas’ chambers. Ohtar and Sairin followed behind us. Auntie opened the door and motioned us in. Our guards stopped and stood on either side of the door in the corridor.

Erelas was still pale and lying nearly flat on his back. His head was propped up only enough for Thranduil to spoon a pallid-looking broth into his mouth. His right arm was splinted and lying on top of his jumbled covers. Erelas smiled weakly at us. "Legolas! Daeron! I am so glad you are here. Maybe Adar will stop trying to force this awful brew on me."

Thranduil smiled and placed the bowl on the bedside table. "It is only a short reprieve."

Legolas and I approached the bed. "How do you feel?" Legolas asked.

"I believe I will survive," Erelas smiled and then added, "if Adar and Naneth do not kill me with attention first." I knew exactly how he felt.

Thranduil snorted and leaned back into his chair. Lalaith chuckled lightly as she busied herself with straightening Erelas’ cover to her satisfaction.

"Do you see what I mean?" Erelas said. "An Elf cannot even wallow in his bed without it being put right."

Lalaith grabbed his chin and kissed him soundly on the cheek. "Careful, child. I will turn you over to the king." Thranduil nodded with satisfaction as if he would delight in taking in hand this one who had frightened him so badly.

I was pleased to see Erelas sounding much like he always did, but I could plainly see he was weak and uncomfortable. Just the small amount of time he had been awake and, I suppose, being fed this horrible broth seemed to have tired him. "Does it hurt very much?" I asked.

"Only when you make me laugh," Erelas smiled.

"Then I will not say anything funny," I said sincerely.

Then Erelas did chuckle, and as he did, his broken arm pressed slightly into his side as if the movement did indeed disturb the truce he had made with the pain. "You cannot help it, Daeron," he said. When he had settled softly back into an uneasy-looking peace with his wounds, he said, "Adar tells me that you have guards posted with you?"

Legolas and I nodded. "Sairin and Ohtar," Legolas told him.

"Two of the Fifteen," Erelas mused. "You two must indeed be someone special."

I swatted my hand through the air. "I do not know who is more frightening, our guard or the men."

Thranduil looked shocked. "You are afraid of Sairin and Ohtar?"

Lalaith laughed again. "I believe it is a healthy respect."

"Yes," I nodded in complete agreement. "I wish to stay healthy so I am respectful."

Thranduil smiled a little sideways and said, "That is good to know." Erelas tried to splint his side again as he fought back a laugh.

The healer came bustling in the door at that moment and stopped dead at the sight, I suppose, of a room full of people bothering his wounded charge. He was carrying a cup of something I knew I most likely would not like and felt sure Erelas would not like it either. Apparently Lalaith saw the healer’s chagrin, too. She placed a hand on Legolas and my shoulder and said, "Come, my little ones. Let us allow the healer to care for Erelas."

"I will see you later if you feel like it," Legolas said as he offered a small wave toward his brother.

"I hope you two will come back and save me from Adar’s broth and the healers’ potions soon," Erelas smiled. He looked terribly wan by then. We promised to come back and cheer him up.

We met Aldamir in the corridor. "Sairin will remain outside the door while you are in your lessons," he told us. "When you go to training, Ohtar will go with you and stay while you are at the laundry with Morwen. They will both return this night." He smiled at us. "You will be safe with the masters, and it will give the guards a moment to rest and see their families."

I turned to Ohtar and said, "Please give Isilya my greetings."

Ohtar bowed slightly. "I will do so, young Daeron."

For four days, we went about our daily routines with at least one guard in tow at all times. None of the other trainees said anything about our shadows, but they all eyed them suspiciously. I concluded that the Fifteen made everyone nervous. Except Morwen. She did not seem bothered at all by the silent presence who watched us haul wood and empty washing pots. The good news of these days was that Erelas was steadily improving. He could now sit up in bed for a short while and talk to us when we visited him. The bad news was that Borgil had gone back to being our dusty old tutor.

On the morning of the fifth day, Uncle called us into his office after morning meal. As Legolas and I went down the corridor to where the king waited for us, I whispered, "What have we done now?"

Legolas sighed. "I do not know, but it is rarely a good thing when Adar summons us to his office."

Aldamir and Seregon were present when we arrived. I breathed a sigh of relief when Uncle motioned us to chairs.

"I have asked you here this morning, little ones, because I wish to explain to you about the men," Thranduil told us. I let out the air I had been harboring in my chest in preparation for meeting yet another doom. Legolas looked equally relieved that all we had to face was talk about the men instead of consequences for something we did know what it could possibly have been.

"The men have told us most of what their mission was, we believe," Uncle went on, apparently having missed our nervous looks and sighs of relief. "The men come from a land far to our East. Some years ago a man came to them. He told their leader that much evil existed in our lands. Not only the Elves were not to be trusted, but all free folk of this region were thought to be preparing an attack on the far eastern lands."

"But that is not true," Legolas protested.

"No, it is not," Thranduil said, mildly.

"Who was this man who told them this?" I asked. Who would do such a thing? Was there not enough trouble to go around without someone traveling to far off places and stirring it up?

"We do not know for certain who this man is," Thranduil said. "He has called himself Carion. The leader of the Easterling people was not easily swayed by this man, but over a long period of time by men’s reckoning, he gained the ear of the leader. The leader finally consented to sending his warriors to see what they could discern about the Elves. One of the men we took captive said that The Hanu, as they call their leader, was not even certain he believed that the Elves existed. They had never heard of nor seen such as our kind until this man called Carion came to them. The Hanu requested an Elf be brought back with his warriors for him to see and learn of our kind."

"That is why they took us?" Legolas asked.

"Yes, though we still do not believe the men knew they had taken my son and my nephew," Thranduil said. "We did not tell them."

"Then they did not mean us harm?" Legolas asked.

Thranduil rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke. "The purpose of their mission was to scout for our weaknesses and to take an Elf. From our position, that is meaning us harm. While they might have had some lingering doubt about this Carion’s claims, they were intent on realizing their mission."

"That is why they were in the forest, then," I said, trying to piece all the information together.

Thranduil nodded. "There were three groups of them. Two of the groups had reunited at the northern border to await the third when Erelas’ patrol found them. Of course, the third group was the group who had taken you, and that group had been charged with abducting an Elf."

"Did the Carion man know they were to abduct an Elf?" I asked. "Would he have not known that if the strange men took an Elf that you might send troops after them?"

"I think he knew that very well. The Easterling men had been told that if they needed assistance they could find aid at Dol Guldur. Apparently, none of the men sought such aid, and they did not go to this place they thought to look menacing. It is possible that Carion thought they would weaken our forces by forcing us into pursuing them, and then the shadow would be able to swarm from Dol Guldur to lay claim on more of the forest. It is also possible that the idea to abduct an Elf was Carion’s plan all along, and he merely convinced The Hanu that it was his bidding."

"But it did not work," Legolas said as if mulling over the failed strategy.

"No, it did not," Thranduil said. "The men found that Carion had not lied about the existence of Elves, but they were not prepared for us to defend ourselves and our borders as vigorously as we do. Carion had told them we were accomplished warriors, but these men had never seen any who could withstand their own skills. They did not know their enemy."

Legolas shifted as if this whole story did little to offer him comfort. I have to admit, the thought of these men being as well trained as they were and their leader still listening to Carion did not make me feel much better either. "Will they come again?" Legolas asked.

Thranduil shook his head. "I do not know what sort of influence Carion has on The Hanu. It is possible, but we hope to prevent it by revealing to this leader the lies of Carion. But I cannot say if he will believe what he is told."

"How, Adar? How will you tell this leader that he has been lied to?" Legolas asked.

"We have sent his surviving warriors back to him to tell him that they are all that live and what they found," Thranduil said.

"You let the men go?" I asked softly, or said. I am not certain if I was merely stating the obvious or inquiring to my understanding. No matter which it was, I was shocked and none too pleased to hear the men were free.

Thranduil leaned slightly forward to catch my eye and then made certain he had Legolas’ attention. "They are gone. They have been escorted to our borders after having been given a warning that should they or any of their people ever return, there will be no mercy. We have granted them their lives so that they may take the message of the man Carion’s deceit back to their master. What The Hanu does with that knowledge will be up to him. We will not tolerate them again."

Legolas slid from his chair and went to his adar. He slipped between his adar’s knees and placed one hand on Thranduil’s shoulder and the other on his chest. Uncle covered Legolas’ hand with his own. "Would you take the word of your warriors, Adar? Do you think their leader will listen?" Legolas asked.

Thranduil nodded his head. "Of course, I would listen to what my scouts told me. That is their job. I must be able to trust them, or they would not be appointed such a task. I do not know if The Hanu will listen, but if he is as wise as the men think he is, then he will heed the warning."  I understood that Uncle could not know this for certain. Perhaps the same men would not come back, but we had no way of knowing if the men would make it back to their homeland to deliver the message or if the message would be received in the manner the king desired. None of us had the foresight to know what would come in the distant future. Not even the queen knew all ends. I suppose what he was telling us was that we had to believe that the men would chose the right course. It was all we had, I thought. The king spared their lives, and we could only hope that we would not meet them in the future on a battlefield where no one would win, and we would all suffer the defeat that war brings to all, even to the ones who find themselves with banners still flying. It was not beyond my ability to understand protecting ourselves; I lost my adar to our defense, but I did not think I would ever understand war. Sauron must indeed have a smooth tongue to be able to convince his followers of such lies when in the end, if he did prevail, he would be the only one to benefit. I felt sorry for these men. They were the prey just as much as we were. I hoped their leader would cast the man Carion out of his land. I even managed a small inward smile; I even hoped this deceitful man would land on his rear end!

Uncle motioned for me to come to him. I leaned against his other knee and he hugged us both closely. "You need not worry further about this. The men are gone, and you are safe. We are all safer now." He smiled as he released us. "Go now and be children of this forest. Take joy in her as we take joy in you."

There was nothing I could do about what might happen in the future. Legolas and I smiled at each other. At that moment, I truly felt the return of joy.

Erelas got better daily. He was still confined to his bed most of the day, but by this time, he was being allowed to sit in a chair when he ate. We tried to visit him as much as we were allowed, and I could see the Erelas we knew resurfacing more each time we saw him. His color was better, and his humor was as biting as ever. His barbs were not so much directed at Legolas and me. But since he was not serving under our brothers' command during his recovery, he fell back into simply being a brother. It was Aldamir and Seregon who were his main targets. Though they protested and gave as much as they got, they both seemed pleased to hear Erelas’ laughter and took his teasing, I think, as a matter of good course. I suppose there was much for all of us to be happy about. And I admit, I loved watching Erelas’ quick wit cut his bossy older kinsmen down to size.

Laundry duty had not been all bad. It was hard, dirty work, but just as Erelas had told us, Morwen was a kind gentle Elf. Each day we looked forward to hearing her stories. Over our remaining time with her, she told us more about the early years of our families coming to these woods. This forest is our home, and I felt a connection to it that ran as deep as the oldest oak’s roots and as clean and clear as the waters that ran throughout her borders. We did not merely live here; we were a part of this land.

I learned to hear the deeper meanings of the tales she told. The forest in its time before the shadow came alive to me as it never had before. As the darkness claimed more and more of the woodland beauty, I felt the cries of the trees and the anguish of all living creatures that have long made this land their home. The trees bent and darkened under the weight of the shadow, black squirrels usurped the homes of the small gentle grey squirrel, spiders twisted their sticky rope webs around branches, choking life and light away from everything in its way, and the shadow that fell from Dol Guldur grew longer as time passed. Only by the strength of their will do Thranduil and the people of this realm keep the shadow from laying its claim from border to border. I felt proud to be a small part of it.

As I listened to Morwen, I wondered often why we did not have her teach us our lessons instead of boring old Borgil. He was about as entertaining as watching dew dry. Morwen, on the other hand, told stories in such a way that the listener was transported into the world she wove with words and the tone of her voice.

I was almost sorry when our last day with her came. I was not sorry to leave behind hauling firewood or dipping out vats of dirty water, but I was most sorry to leave her daily company. She promised us that it was fine for us to come and visit whenever we wanted, but I was not sure if she meant it or if she was merely being polite. So as to not become a nuisance, Legolas and I agreed we would limit the number of times we went to just once week until we knew how well we would be received. We would miss her.

As we ambled back to the palace after our last day with the laundress, we spied a small green frog on the path. He must have liked the damp river banks, not to mention that Legolas and I had sloshed enough water over the course of the last two weeks to created several good frog ponds behind the laundry hut. He eyed us curiously, but did not seem alarmed by our presence. Legolas bent down and spoke to him. "Mae govannen, little hopper. The nights are getting colder. Should you not be in your burrow?"

"Where do frogs sleep?" I asked as I bent down to greet the little green fellow.

"I do not know for certain," Legolas replied as he gently stroked the tiny head. "I would have to ask."

I snorted. "Let us not ask Borgil. Such a question would surely turn into a month long frog house study."

Legolas picked him up and stood. "We can ask Morwen the next time we go to visit her." He continued to stroke the head of the frog and surprisingly enough, the frog seemed to like it.

"It is becoming colder. I wonder if he has a place to stay warm?" I pondered innocently.

"Perhaps we should take him in for the night," Legolas said. "I do not want him to get cold."

"Me either," I agreed.

Legolas slipped him into his tunic, and we went home to bathe for evening meal.

When we entered the palace, there was more scurrying about than normal. The guard stopped us at the door. "The Queen and Lady Noreth have requested that, when you returned this eve, you are to go straightway to your baths, and then go the Great Hall for evening meal. There are visitors from Esgaroth, and the meal will be served there."

Legolas and I both smiled. Perhaps the son of the leader would be with them. I hoped that the strange red pox on his face was better.

I found my clothes had been laid out on my bed for this evening. Legolas and I were not required to wear formal robes, but we were required to wear formal tunics and leggings. My naneth had laid out a deep blue velvet tunic with gold embroidery adorning the collar and cuffs. Matching leggings were there, too. I felt itchy just looking at them, but there was little I could do to change this arrangement, so I simply bathed and dressed.

I found Legolas already in the Hall when I skidded in the door. Seregon saw me and came to collect me to see me to Naneth. On our way, I greeted the men whom I had met before and even those we came across whom I had not met before. My good manners were pulled out and dusted off. Seregon smiled down at me, obviously pleased I had not embarrassed the entire realm. It was not until we were seated that I saw the son of the leader. He was seated directly across from Legolas and me. I was sorry to see his face was still afflicted. I wondered if our healers did not have some salve or potion that would heal these strange red bumps. I would have to ask Nana.

As soon as everyone was seated, Thranduil rose to welcome our guests. He looked regal in robes of deep forest green trimmed in small leaves stitched in mithril thread. A crown of autumn leaves and berries adorned his head. I had never noticed before how much Legolas did truly look like his adar. It was not just the color of Uncle’s hair that was the same, but also the curve of his cheek bones, and the faint dimple in his chin; both were evident in his youngest son. I would have liked to have known Legolas’ grandparents, too. I would have especially liked to have seen his daernaneth best Oropher in archery. I wondered if one day Legolas would be able to defeat his own adar with a bow. I have seen Thranduil shoot, and he is impressive. It would be quite a challenge.

As Thranduil completed his welcome, he offered up a toast, and everyone raised their goblets in salute as he talked about good will between our peoples. I put my hand on my goblet and turned to look at Legolas. He was wearing colors much like those of his adar, and I noted that Aldamir was also in variations of the same colors. Lalaith was wearing a gown of a soft green that shimmered like morning dew on the underside of new leaves. This color was also seen the formal robes of her older son and in the tunic of her youngest. They looked like a family. My nana and Seregon were in the same blues as those I wore. We were a family, too.

I leaned in closer to Legolas. "Where is the frog?" I whispered.

He grinned and pointed to his tunic. That was good, I thought; it would be warm there.

However, the question had barely left my mouth when Legolas got a strange look on his face and began to wiggle slightly. I suppose the frog had decided to join the festivities. I saw it as it bounded out from under the edge of Legolas’ tunic onto his leg. He grabbed for the frog, but it was too fast. With one mighty leap, it was on the table. Legolas jumped to his feet and made a play for it, but it hopped happily across the table toward the boy from Esgaroth. Men and Elves were snickering as politely as possible while seated at the king’s table. I meant to help, but when I grabbed for it, I knocked over my goblet and cider splashed everywhere. The boy from Esgaroth quickly snatched the frog from the table and placed his hands in his lap. Feeling helpless and stricken, Legolas and I both then turned our eyes to the very silent king still standing at the head of the table. His face was impassive, but in the depth of storm-cloud grey eyes, there was lightning flashing. A vein throbbed on the side of his neck. "Oh no!" I moaned softly. "We are in serious trouble."

                                 The End