Disclaimer: Some characters are my own, but others and the settings are borrowed from Tolkien.

A/N This is a sequel to From Princeling to Warrior. If you have not read the first story, you may not be familiar with some of the characters and setting of this second story.

Chapter 1 – Healing

Thranduil frowned. Watching Legolas push away his half-eaten plate of food, the King was about to lecture his youngest on the importance of nutrition during the course of convalescence, but then abruptly clamped his mouth shut. After all, it was only days ago that he had acknowledged Legolas to be the equal of some of Mirkwood’s most accomplished warriors, and accomplished warriors did not need their adars reminding them to finish all the food on their plates. It had been difficult, if not impossible, to will himself to see his youngest as no longer a child, but as a budding young warrior who soon would be a match for even his older brothers. The fact that Legolas was still looking rather pale and thin only served to make things even more difficult for Thranduil. At times, the urge to resort once again to being the overprotective adar was overwhelming. Thranduil could only hope that, with time, it would all become easier. His tongue was getting rather sore from the countless times that he had to bite back some paternal chiding.

"Adar, may I be excused?" His thoughts were interrupted by the very being who was the culprit of instigating such thoughts.

Thranduil pulled his eyes from the half-eaten plate to the wan face of his youngest son. Legolas looked tired. A flash of concern surged through him in spite of himself.

"Legolas, perhaps you should be resting more during the day rather than walking about so much," Thranduil tried to keep his voice level.

His son frowned. "I have been bedridden for far too long. My body will never recover its strength if I continue to sit and do nothing. I am fine, Adar."

"You have been spending much time on the training fields lately, have you not?" Thranduil asked.

"Yes, but I merely watch. Do not worry, Adar. I am not quite as foolish as to believe that I am ready to partake in any training exercise as yet." There was a small smile on Legolas’ face.

Thranduil smiled back. "I should certainly hope not. But you should curtail your walks beyond the palace walls."

Legolas looked at his father in surprise. There seemed to be very little that escapes the King’s attention and knowledge. "I only wish to check on the progress of the reconstruction of the cottages. I do not venture far. Besides, a palace guard accompanies me when I go."

Thranduil nodded. "I am only concerned that you may overtire yourself and hinder your recovery. Go now and rest."

Legolas stood up. "Good night, Adar. Good night, Aldeon."

"Good night, Legolas," Aldeon smiled and watched as his brother made his way from the dining room.

"He does not eat enough," Thranduil muttered, his eyes drawn once more to the unfinished food.

Aldeon could not help but smile. "I am surprised at your restraint with him, Adar."

Thranduil eyed his oldest." I surprise myself at times."

At this, Aldeon laughed. "I am sure Legolas appreciates the new way you are treating him.’

"Does he?" Thranduil raised his brow. "Sometimes I wonder whether he is aware of anything at all. He grieves still."

"As we all," Aldeon reminded gently.

Thranduil sighed. "I know. It is not something that I easily forget. It just pains me to see him recovering so slowly."

"What does Kala say?" Aldeon asked.

Thranduil frowned. "He repeatedly assures me that Legolas is mending well. And yet I know the wounds still pain Legolas more often than he lets on, and that he still requires the pain dulling teas to sleep at nights. Kala attributes this slow healing to the ongoing grief that Legolas feels. And for that, he has no cure." Thranduil resolutely pushed away the gnawing fear that his son may succumb to the grief that had been preying upon much of Mirkwood in recent weeks.

Aldeon clasped his father’s shoulder briefly in sympathy. "Legolas will be all right. Give him time. When he is stronger, I will take him riding through the woods. That has always brought him joy in the past and it will do so again."

Thranduil smiled at his oldest in gratitude. "You are a good brother to him."

"And you are a good father to all of us."

Thranduil smiled again. "At times I doubt the truth of that, but nevertheless, these words are very soothing to my ears. Thank you, my son." The King then turned serious. "Have we word from Feren?"

"Yes, I received a message from him this afternoon. I did not want to mention it in front of Legolas."

Thranduil nodded. "And what does Feren say?"

"The message was very brief. He believes he has uncovered information as to origin of the false reports that we received before the orcs attacked. Tavaro is on his way back to the palace with a more detailed report. I think Feren is being deliberately vague in his message. It is my guess that he has uncovered something that he does not want publicized beyond a certain few at this time."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. "It is as I feared then. The orcs had help from someone within Mirkwood."

"A traitor."

"Or traitors. The reach of the Shadow is far and deep in that elves would turn against their own kind." There was a hint of sadness mixed with the palpable anger in the King’s voice. "I shall find the traitors and I will show them no mercy. There is no sin greater than betraying your own kind."

"Have you any idea who it might be?" Aldeon asked.

Thranduil let out a long breath. "There are more than a few in Mirkwood who believe that I have failed as a king."

"Adar -" Aldeon protested.

Thranduil raised his hand. "It is true for any ruler. A king can never satisfy everybody. There will always be failures of the ruler in the eyes of his subjects. Whether real or perceived, it matters not. That is reality. Mirkwood has suffered much in recent years. In spite of my efforts and the efforts of our warriors, the Shadow continues to spread. Minds are poisoned and fear of evil has taken a stranglehold on some of our people. Some of our faraway settlements demand more protection from me, but we do not have the resources to provide the protection that they seek. There are simply not enough warriors to patrol the far reaches of our realm."

"Many settlements have broken up and the people are moving closer to the stronghold where they will be protected," Aldeon pointed out.

"And yet there are many still who cling to their lands with fierce loyalty despite the threat to their safety. How can we convince them to leave behind what generations before them have planted and built? People move away from the settlements to be closer to the stronghold. What then become of the settlements and their land? They fall under the control of the Shadow and the realm of Mirkwood is pushed further and further into a corner, surrounded by evil. What then?"

Aldeon shook his head, having no answers for such questions.

"It is a difficult dilemma. On the one hand, I wish all our people would move closer to the stronghold so that I can better protect them, and yet, I do not want to cede one more inch of land to the Shadow. It is a treacherous balancing act that will result in the dissatisfaction of our people at the very least, and at the most, death."

Thranduil drew in a deep breath and expelled it slowly. "If my subjects are dissatisfied, I would have them address their concerns to me directly. If they believe that I rule unjustly, I want to hear that with my own ears. If they have demands, no matter how unreasonable, let them voice them and I will listen. But I will not tolerate betrayal. I want all available resources to track down this traitor or traitors. I will not allow the death of so many of our people go unanswered."

"We will have to await Tavaro’s report before we can make any plans. If the traitor is from within Mirkwood, it will be prudent to keep this information within a tight circle until we know the identity of the traitor." Aldeon looked at his father. "I would suggest that we refrain from imparting any information to all for the time being, including the advisors."

Thranduil’s steely eyes met those of his son. "I have no intention of involving any of my advisors in this. The traitor’s fate has already been decided and no half-tuned advisor will persuade me otherwise. In the meantime, I do not want Legolas wandering beyond the palace walls on his own. Make certain someone is with him at all times."

Aldeon looked at his father sharply. "You think whoever is behind this will seek to harm him?"

Thranduil shook his head. "I do not know, but I am not taking any chances. Until we know the identity of the traitor, none of us is safe. I want you to take extra care as well. The enemy can see us, but we cannot see the enemy."

Aldeon nodded slowly. "I will take care, Adar, and I hope you will too."

Thranduil smiled, if a little tiredly. "Fear not for me, Aldeon. I have not survived these millennia by being careless. I intend to outlive our enemies for many more millennia."

Aldeon hoped with all his heart that this would be the case, for Mirkwood without Thranduil would be a kingdom lost.

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 2 – The Trap is Set

The autumn day held a hint of unmistakable crispness and a promise that winter was not far away. The fact that his thoughts had strayed to the weather surprised even himself. Indeed, Legolas could not recall the last time he had felt a change in the temperature, or to consider whether he should return to his chamber for his cloak when there was no snow on the ground. It was another reminder that his body was still healing, he thought with a certain amount of annoyance. Unconsciously, his hand trailed to his side where the arrow had pierced it in what seemed a lifetime ago. The wounds had long since closed, but his side was still inordinately sore and tender, especially if he moved too quickly or if he overtired himself, which sometimes could simply be getting out of bed, he thought wryly. The slowness of his body to recover its strength was frustrating and more than once, he had been tempted to throw caution to the wind and resume activities that had been as natural as breathing when he was hale. No doubt that would had put his body and Kala into a frenzy, not to mention how his father would react should he take on such a reckless pursuit.

A small smile touched his lips as he thought of his father. To be fair, Thranduil had been surprisingly restrained and tolerant from the day he had at last ventured beyond his sickbed. He could readily recall occasions in the past when his father would keep him bedridden for weeks on end for a much lesser injury. That he had been allowed to be up and about in such a relatively short time was indicative of the fact that perhaps his father truly meant to treat him as more of a young adult than as a child as he had so annoyingly done in the past. It was a gratifying thought. It was something that he had longed for for years now, but it had come with a price.

His heart tightened painfully as he made his way, alone, toward the training fields. Salque was not there anymore, to accompany him on such mundane outings as these. How often in the past had he tried to escape his shadow, as he had teasingly called Salque, who would merely smile and continue to follow his young charge as he had done so tirelessly and faithfully since the day his king had assigned him this at times thankless role. Legolas swallowed, forcing back unwanted emotions. The tears no longer came so easily and uncontrollably now. When they did come, it was usually in the quiet privacy of his own bed, late at nights, away from concerned and prying eyes. But even those occasions were becoming fewer and shorter in duration. Someday, he supposed, he would no longer cry at the loss of the elf who had been a second father to him, but to recall with a smile the fond memories of the times that he and Salque had spent together. But for now, he would have to learn to cope with that empty void that threatened to drain him of energy and will.

He came to a stop at the side of the training field where a group of warriors were sparring with each other, the knives flashing and gleaming in the brilliant autumn sunshine. He found himself mesmerized by the graceful yet deadly movements of his fellow elves as they pranced and leapt around each other, blocking possibly lethal blows from one warrior and dealing out strikes that were quite as unforgiving to another. Even in training, a Mirkwood elf did not spare himself or his fellow warriors, for he had known the danger of the Shadow for far too long. One fought as diligently in practices as in real battle, as one false move could easily lead to injury or possibly, death. Though Legolas had never heard of anyone being killed during practices, injuries were sometimes unavoidable. For the novice warriors, the weapons were of course blunted and could cause no real harm, but the bruises that they inflicted were no less painful. Legolas recalled the numerous times that he himself had come back from a training exercise decked out in bruises, swearing to himself that he would work that much harder in the next practice to avoid being so marked again. There were times that he wanted to question the viciousness of these practice battles, but having now witnessed and fought at a real battle himself, he could now understand the demand placed on a Mirkwood warrior. There was no mercy on a battlefield.

The training exercise appeared to be over as warriors were beginning to disperse from the field. One was making his way to where Legolas was standing. It was Hesin.

He clasped the younger elf’s arm in warrior fashion. "Greetings, Prince Legolas."

The gesture was not lost on Legolas and he felt unduly grateful toward the older elf for the recognition.

"Greetings, Hesin. It appears you have fully recovered from your injuries."

"Yes, well, the legs are still a little stiff, but they improve daily, thank the Valar. And you, my prince, how have your fared?" The older warrior eyed the young elf rather critically, taking note of the still obvious pallor and the too thin body.

"Kala says I am healing well, but I am afraid I am not ready for any strenuous activities yet. Even a leisurely walk sometimes taxes my strength," Legolas said rather forlornly. "Sometimes I wonder whether I possess the natural elven ability to heal quickly." Legolas found that it was far easier to admit his weaknesses to ones who were outside the immediate family, knowing that the outsiders could do little to hinder his relative freedom.

"It was a grave wound that you suffered so it is only natural that it will take time for you to completely heal. Fret not, young prince. I have no doubt that you will soon regain your natural ability as a formidable warrior that you have already proven yourself to be. I look forward to the day that we will be fighting side by side again."

"Thank you, Hesin. Your words are kind." Legolas could not help but smile.

"It is I who should thank you, my prince, for you saved my life. I would not be here had you not acted so valiantly and selflessly in battle. I am indebted to you for eternity," Hesin said in all earnestness.

"I acted as any Mirkwood warrior would in the circumstances. I recall it was you who told me that the duty of a warrior was to look after his fellow warriors. I merely carried out my duty." A trace of colour showed under Legolas’ pale skin.

"Nevertheless, I thank you with all my heart. Should you require my services at all in anything, you have but to ask." Hesin bowed deeply to the young elf.

Legolas was touched by the other’s words and action. He reached out and clasped the older warrior’s shoulder. "Thank you, Hesin. I shall keep your generous offer in mind."

"Will you be heading back to the palace now, my prince?"

Legolas shook his head. "I want to go over to the archery field. Though I cannot yet pull the bow, it soothes me to watch others doing it."

"I will walk with you," Hesin offered.

Legolas hesitated. "My father has not asked you to do so, has he?"

Hesin looked taken back for a brief moment and then laughed. "No, the King has not asked me to watch over you, though I would gladly do so of my own accord. You said yourself that you are not ready for strenuous activities. It may be prudent to have someone by your side as a precaution."

"A precaution to what? What can possibly happen to me within these walls? The place is positively lurking with warriors everywhere I turn," Legolas said with some his former exasperation. "Unless I look so frail that you fear my falling flat on my face on my next step forward."

Hesin laughed good-naturedly. "I meant no disrespect, my young prince. I thought perhaps you may want company."

"I am sorry, Hesin. I guess I am just frustrated with this prolonged inactivity on my part. I yearn to be my old self again."

"It takes time, my prince, like everything else. But it will happen, so do not be impatient. Would you like me to accompany you to the archery field then?"

Legolas surprised himself with a laugh. It had seemed so long since he had last laughed. It felt good. "It would appear that you are doing so anyway. Yes, come along. I can do with the company."

The archery field was but a short walk away and they covered the distance in companionable silence. The silence stretched on as Legolas watched with longing while several warriors shot arrow after arrow into distant targets. How he wished to feel the tautness of the bowstring under his fingers again, and to experience the elation once more as the arrow slam into a target with a satisfactory thud.

His roving eyes fell upon one warrior in particular and proceeded to watch the other’s movements with close scrutiny. After ten arrows found their mark in the target one after the other, Legolas nodded to himself.

"He is improving," he said, half under his breath.

"Who?" Hesin asked beside him.

"Meldon, the archer in the middle. He comes daily to practise and has improved much over recent days," Legolas explained. "He is one of the palace guards and has wanted to further his archery skills."

"Have you been training him?" Hesin asked.

Legolas smiled and shook his head. "I am far too young to train anybody with their skills. We merely discuss the art of archery. Like I said previously, even though I lack the strength yet to pull a bow, it is surprisingly satisfying just to watch and talk of archery with another who is keen on its dynamics. Like you, he too has offered his company as I roam about these grounds. We often go beyond the exterior gates to check on the reconstruction of the cottages." A small smile touched his lips. "I often think my adar has sent him to watch over me, though I have never questioned him in that regard. He is unobtrusive enough and I rather like his company."

"It appears you are in good hands. I will leave you then as I have other matters that I must attend to," the older warrior said.

Legolas regarded him rather suspiciously. "I am in good hands? Are you telling me the truth when you say that my adar did not send you to watch over me?"

Hesin laughed. "I swear it on my honour as a Mirkwood warrior. No, the King has not sent me, though I cannot guarantee that is the case with Meldon. Good day, my prince. I am sure I will see you again at the training fields."

Soon after Hesin’s departure, Legolas was joined by Meldon.

"Greetings, Prince Legolas," he saluted rather formally.

Legolas winced inwardly. "Greetings, Meldon, though I wish you are not quite so formal. There are few years between us and I would much prefer that you address me by name than by my title."

"But you are the prince and I am but a palace guard," the other objected.

"We are both subjects of the King," Legolas reminded. "Would you have me then address you as Palace Guard Meldon?"

The other laughed and hitched the bow over his shoulder. "Legolas, then."

"Good," Legolas nodded. "I see you have once again improved with your bow."

"You are a good teacher," Meldon said.

Legolas shook his head. "At my age, I dare not claim to be a teacher to anyone. Are you free to take a walk with me to the cottages or must you return to duty?"

"I am not due on duty until this evening. I would be pleased to walk with you. Perhaps we can take a different route this time," he paused suddenly with a frown. "But it is not as easy a route as the main path itself and you are still recovering -"

Legolas cut in quickly. "I am fine. A new route will be most welcome. Besides, I am probably familiar with the path that you are thinking of. It goes deeper into the woods before circling out to the clearing where the cottages are. It will be more scenic."

"How are you familiar with these routes?" Meldon asked in surprise.

Legolas smiled. "My brothers asked me that not too long ago. I have spent much time studying maps of Mirkwood. Though I do not wish to sound boastful, but I am probably more familiar with the geography of Mirkwood than most, and that includes my older brothers."

There was a look of admiration in the other’s eyes. "I would not have thought that someone like you would spend time studying maps. I mean, being a prince-"

Legolas laughed. "I may be the King’s son, but I am really not that much different from the other elves of Mirkwood. I eat, breathe and sleep like all the others."

The other elf regarded him silently for a moment. "I do not think you are like the others. Are you certain you wish to take the new route?"

"I will be fine if you are concerned about my well being. It is high time that I do more than shuffle along like a near dead." With a surge of energy that he had not felt for quite some time, Legolas took the lead and headed toward the exterior gate, followed more slowly by Meldon. The guard at the gate cheerfully greeted the familiar sight of the two elves as they made their way beyond the palace walls.

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 3 –Traitors Within

Tavaro slipped off his dusty cloak and tossed it to the servant hurrying behind him.

"The King is in his study with Lord Aldeon. Allow me to go ahead to announce you, my lord." The servant almost had to run to keep up with the other’s long strides.

"I know he is in his study. That is where I am heading. And there is no need for you to announce me for I am sure my adar will recognize his own son. I have been away but for a few days, after all."

"But my lord -", the servant protested.

Tavaro stopped so abruptly that the servant almost ran into him. He turned and smiled at the harried elf. "You may, however, bring us wine. I have had a long ride and my dusty throat needs cleansing."

"Yes, Lord Tavaro." The servant bowed rather stiffly and turned away. Tavaro smiled to himself as he watched the other’s departing back. Sometimes the servants were simply too eager to create their own sense of pomp and pageantry. He shook his head and continued his way down the hall, the smile fading from his face as he contemplated the news that he was about to impart to his father. Thranduil was not going to be pleased.

He knocked lightly and slipped in, shutting the door behind him.

"Tavaro!" Aldeon rose from his chair and quickly embraced his brother. "Welcome home."

Released from his brother’s arms, Tavaro turned to his father. "Greetings, Adar."

"Welcome home, my son," Thranduil embraced him in turn. "I am glad you have returned safely."

"Thank you, Adar. It is good to be home, but I am afraid I bear ill news."

"Feren is well?" Thranduil asked rather sharply.

"He is well," Tavaro answered quickly.

Thranduil nodded and gestured to a chair. "Sit down. You must be weary. Aldeon, send for wine."

"Adar, I have already taken the liberty to do so," Tavaro said with a smile and cocked his head at the sound of knocking. "Ah, I believe our refreshment arrives."

Aldeon could not help but grin at his younger brother. It was nice to have Tavaro home again and if the hint of a bemused smile on Thranduil’s lips was any indication, he was certain that the King held similar sentiments.

After the servant had departed, Tavaro sat back in his chair and took a long drink from his goblet, savouring the smooth liquid as it ran down his throat. "This is what I miss the most when I am on patrol. Nothing soothes like a nice goblet of wine." Almost reluctantly, he set down his goblet and straightened. "Adar, the news that I --".

Thranduil held up his hand. "We will finish the wine first. What ill news you bring can wait."

Tavaro smilingly obliged as he picked up his goblet once again. "Where is Legolas? Is he still confined to his room?"

"No, he has been up and about, though I would prefer that he rests more. I believe he spends much of his day watching others on the training fields, as well as taking walks to the outlying cottages," Thranduil replied.

"Are those part of his new princely responsibilities?" Tavaro asked with a grin.

"Certainly not responsibilities that I have assigned to him," Thranduil said. "But the routine seems to sooth him. He is still healing, in more ways than one." He drained his goblet and set it down. Taking their cue from him, his sons followed suit. "So, Tavaro, what news do you bring, though I fear I know the answer already."

Tavaro nodded. "It is as we all feared. We were betrayed from within."

"How many? And do you have their names?" Thranduil asked in a tight voice.

"As far as Feren and I can determine, there are two."

Thranduil looked surprised. "Two only? Are you certain? Perhaps the news is not as dire as I expect it to be. Who are they?"

"Manveru and Ambartur. They are the sons of Yulion, one of the elders of a rather remote settlement in the southeast."

"Manveru and Ambartur. Are they not scouts?" Thranduil asked.

Tavaro was once again amazed at the wide grasp of knowledge that Thranduil had over his kingdom. Tavaro wondered fleetingly whether there was a single elf in Mirkwood that Thranduil was unfamiliar with.

"Yes, they are scouts, and both had brought back reports of orcs amassing in the south, independently of each other. And since they have proven themselves to be excellent scouts in the past, no suspicion was raised concerning their findings."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. "The next question is, why? Why would they betray their own kind? What do they hope to gain?"

"Ambartur had a son, by the name of Corintur. He served under Feren’s patrol until he was killed last year. He was an excellent warrior, very popular with his fellow warriors."

"Yes, I do recall that. I spoke personally with Ambartur after the funeral. He was very distraught at the time. So it is revenge that he seeks for the loss of his son? He would bring down all of Mirkwood for one death?" There was a hard edge to Thranduil’s voice. "No, there must be more to this."

"Adar, the name of their father is familiar. Yulion…" Aldeon interrupted. "Did he not come to you at one time to petition for more warriors to patrol the area around his settlement?"

Thranduil nodded. "Yes, Yulion, a most difficult petitioner. He demanded that I send a contingent of warriors to permanently guard his settlement. I had to refuse, of course. We cannot station warriors at any one settlement on a permanent basis. We do not have enough warriors for such arrangements."

"That clarifies the picture somewhat," Tavaro suddenly said.

His father looked at him questioningly.

"We have discovered that there are ongoing dealings between Yulion’s settlement and the Easterlings."

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed again. "They have been dealing with Men? In what ways?"

"Feren attempted to make inquiries of some of the elves in that settlement, though few were forthcoming with information," Tavaro said. "In the end, it was Yulion who told us of the dealings, in a very disdainful manner, I might add. The Men had apparently come to their aid on occasions when orcs threatened the safety of the settlement. The settlers in turn provide the Men with their surplus food and allow them to hunt in the nearby woods."

Thranduil’s brows darkened. "Turning to Men for help and let them trample freely through our woods? That is completely unacceptable! I may not be able to provide them with a permanent force to protect them, but I have ensured that patrols pass through that area as frequently as within reason to make sure of their safety. I have received no further complaints from Yulion. I had assumed that he was satisfied with the arrangement. I can see now that I had assumed incorrectly. I will have to deal with Yulion when I have dealt with his traitorous sons. Perhaps Yulion is also involved. I want Ambartur and Manveru arrested at once. I do not suppose they are here?"

Tavaro shook his head. "They have not been seen since the orcs attacked, with good reason. Feren has already sent out word that they are to be arrested immediately and has set a watch on the settlement as well. Nobody will be leaving or entering that settlement without scrutiny. Yulion is extremely angry at the "scandalous treatment of his people" – his very words."

"He is fortunate to feel anger still. When I am through with him, he will be feeling more than anger, if he feels anything at all," Thranduil said coldly. "It is unlikely that two lone elves, or the entire settlement for that matter, can mobilize an army of orcs of that size. The Easterlings are involved in this. They have colluded with the forces of evil often enough in the past even against their own kind. They certainly will not hesitate to do so against elves. They have long eyed the woodland realm with their greedy eyes. No doubt the occupants of the settlement have been promised a share of the spoils if they help to bring Mirkwood down. Well, they will not succeed, not as long as I am the King of Mirkwood. Anyone who conspired with the Easterlings will pay the price. I will not tolerate treachery among our own people. I want all the elders of that settlement brought back to the palace. They will be tried and justice will be meted out if they are found guilty. I want all to know what fate befalls traitors so that none will be tempted to follow the same treacherous path."

"Does Ambartur not have another son who serves as a palace guard? The name escapes me at the moment," Aldeon spoke up.

Thranduil’s head snapped up. "You are right. I have nearly forgotten. His name is Meldon. I want him arrested as well, immediately. Aldeon, see to it. And where is Legolas? I want him found and brought back to the palace. I do not want him outside these palace walls until these traitors are found and arrested."

"I have somebody guarding Legolas already. The guard has been told not to let Legolas out of his sight. I am sure he is safe, Adar," Aldeon said. "By your leave, I will go now and pass on your order on Meldon’s arrest."

"And I will go and retrieve the bratling," Tavaro said, getting up from his seat as well. "Worry not, Adar, I shall keep him under my wings until such time as you deem it safe for him to wander about unfettered. His newly found independence is certainly short-lived."

Thranduil grunted in a most unkingly manner. "It is for his own well-being."

"I doubt that he will see it as such," Tavaro grinned. "Come Aldeon. You and I both have our orders to follow, though I do not know which of us has the more difficult task, keeping a wayward elfling in rein or arresting traitors."

"Aldeon, Tavaro, be careful," Thranduil said as they both headed toward the door.

"We will, Adar," Aldeon answered and closed the door behind him.

Two guards almost immediately materialized as they stepped out into the hallway. The brothers returned their salute and left them guarding the door to Thranduil’s study.

Tavaro threw a questioning look at his older brother. "There must be a new code of security since I was last home. You have Legolas under guard. You even have Adar under guard. Where is mine?"

Aldeon smiled. "You are an accomplished warrior. You can protect yourself." The smile faded as his thoughts turned to more pressing matters. "I must hurry and send out word for Meldon’s arrest, as well as that of his father and uncle." He clasped his brother’s shoulder lightly. "Go and find Legolas before Adar himself goes to search for him."

"Fret not, I will bring the elfling home before you finish carrying out Adar’s orders," Tavaro said cheerfully.

As it turned out, that was not to be the case. An hour later, Tavaro found himself once more outside Thranduil’s study and this time, bearing news that he knew would send the King into a downward spiral of despair such as that he himself was already feeling. Oblivious to the two guards standing by the door, Tavaro let himself into the study without even knocking.

One look at his son’s worry-wrought face, Thranduil felt his heart constrict with a nameless fear. "Where is Legolas?"

"Meldon has him," Tavaro said bluntly, hating the sound of his own words.

"Are you certain?"

"The guard at the exterior gate has confirmed it. Apparently, Meldon has accompanied Legolas out of the palace for a number of days now. The guard saw nothing amiss."

At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Aldeon slipped into the room quietly.

"Adar, the order is out for the arrest of Ambartur, Manveru and Meldon. I expect that Meldon will be brought to us shortly."

"It is too late,’ Thranduil said as he slumped back in his chair. "Meldon has Legolas."

"How can that be?" Aldeon asked, looking from the stricken face of his father to that of his brother.

"It is true. We do not know how that came to be, but we cannot waste any more time. We must ride out after Legolas," Tavaro said urgently. "Adar, by your leave, I will gather some men and go immediately."

"Wait, it may not be as dire as it seems. I have assigned a guard to watch over Legolas. He will not allow Meldon to harm Legolas," Aldeon said.

"We cannot be certain of that for we do not know who else may be involved with Meldon. We must ride out immediately," Tavaro insisted. "Meldon already has more than two hours’ head start."

"Yes, someone must ride out after Legolas, but not you, Tavaro. You have just returned and are too weary to make another journey so soon," Thranduil said at last, the authority once more back in his voice. "Aldeon, gather some men together and ride out after your brother."

"Adar, I am not weary. I must go and find Legolas," Tavaro protested.

"No, Tavaro. You are staying. Aldeon, waste no more time, go!" Thranduil’s voice brooked no further argument.

"I will bring him back, Adar. Do not worry," Aldeon said with a confidence that his heart did not feel. He clasped the shoulder of a crestfallen Tavaro briefly. "Tavaro, I will bring our brother back."

Tavaro nodded. "I have faith in you, brother."

"Aldeon, take care," Thranduil embraced his oldest son and whispered an anguished plea. "Bring him back, Aldeon. I cannot bear to lose him again."

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 4 The Trap is Sprung

It felt good to be among the trees again. The soothing whisper of leaves stirring in the light wind, the glimpses of birds and other small animals, and the ever present scent of nature all served to send a resurgence of energy through him. With a spring to his steps that had been missing for far too long, Legolas made his way through the trees, marvelling at the simple wonders of his surroundings. He could almost feel the strength of the trees flowing into him with each breath that he took. Perhaps this was what his healing body needed, rather than being confined to behind the walls of the palace.

"Thank you, Meldon, for suggesting that we take this alternate route. I have not realized that I missed the woods so much. I feel better already, being out here among the trees," Legolas addressed his companion. He stopped and laid a hand on the trunk of a nearby tree, feeling its life vibrate under his sensitive fingers. Closing his eyes, he smiled. He was among friends.

"Feel this tree, Meldon. It is so full of life!" Legolas enthused, pulling the other’s hand and placing it against the trunk. "Can you not feel its song?"

Meldon frowned in concentration. After a moment, he shook his head. "I am afraid I feel nothing. Perhaps I do not have the same affinity as you have with these trees."

"But you are a wood elf. All wood elves feel an affinity to trees." Legolas peered at his companion’s face. "Is something the matter, Meldon? You have been quieter than usual today."

The other elf shook his head. "No, nothing is the matter. We should be on our way or we will have little time to visit with the cottagers." He moved ahead of the younger elf. "This part of the woods becomes thicker and less easy to navigate. Allow me to take the lead."

Legolas nodded rather absent-mindedly, his mind and thoughts already soaring among the lofty branches of the trees surrounding him. The two elves continued their way through the thick woods in companionable silence.

Suddenly, Legolas’ quiet reverie was pierced by a sound that was not one of nature. He stopped, his elven senses pricking with anticipation. Meldon had also stopped, his hand on the hilt of his knife. Seeing the other’s movement, Legolas realized that he himself was completely unarmed.

Drawing his knife, Meldon moved back quickly to the side of the prince.

"That sounded like a signal of some sort,’ Legolas said, his eyes scanning the trees around him.

"It was," the other replied and before Legolas could move, he grabbed the younger elf by the arm and yanked him close, holding the sharp edge of his knife nary an inch from the other’s exposed throat.

Legolas let out a sharp gasp, half in surprise, half in pain. At the same time, Meldon let out a whistle of his own. Instinctively, Legolas tried to pull himself from the tight arm lock. His captor pressed the knife against his skin.

"Do not move or my knife will seek blood," Meldon ordered tersely, his grip tightening on the other’s arm.

Legolas ceased his struggling and concentrated on breathing as shallowly as he could, mindful of the cold steel scraping against his skin. The sharp edge lifted marginally.

"Why, Meldon?" Legolas asked, trying his best to keep his voice steady even as his heart pounded with painful ferocity.

"Be quiet!" Meldon answered shortly, punctuating his words by tightening his grip.

A moment later, there was a slight rustling of the trees and an elf dropped lightly onto the ground before them. The face of the newcomer was not familiar one.

"Adar," Meldon greeted the newcomer, his grip on his prisoner loosened fractionally.

The other elf regarded Meldon and Legolas for a long moment. "So you did manage to capture him. For a while, I had my doubts."

"I had to wait for the right time," Meldon said.

"The right time?" the newcomer asked. "You fool, you were followed. Had I not been here, you would not have succeeded in taking him."

"Followed?" There was genuine surprise in Meldon’s voice. "By who?"

"You cannot possibly think that Thranduil would let his youngest wander about the woods unprotected? Fortunately for you, and for us, I have disposed of the guard. Let us be on our way before more follow."

"Who are you?" Legolas demanded as he once again attempted to pull away. "What do you want with me?"

The newcomer regarded him coldly. "I am Ambartur. As to what I want with you, you will find out soon enough, my young prince. For your own safety, I would suggest that you come with us quietly." He then addressed his son, "Tie him up securely."

Listening to the other’s words, Legolas knew that his captors did not intend to kill him immediately. In a desperate gamble, he twisted his body and almost succeeded in breaking Meldon’s grasp.

"He’s getting away, you fool!" Vaguely he heard Ambartur’s cry before something collided violently against his temple and the world quickly disappeared into dark oblivion.

For a moment, Meldon stared wordlessly at the crumpled form at his feet, and at the blood that was already welling from the gash in the other’s temple.

"You almost let him got away. Can I not trust you to do anything right?" his father demanded angrily as he wiped the hilt of his knife clean of blood. "Now tie him up while I gather the horses."

"I am sorry, Adar. I did not expect him to struggle like that. Do we need to tie him still? He is unconscious already," Meldon asked hesitantly.

"He may be unconscious now, but he will wake up eventually. I will not take chances. Tie him up quickly. We cannot tarry here much longer."

xxxxx

It was the constant pain that drew him from the depths of darkness. His head pounded fiercely and pain blazed from his side as his body continuously ground against something warm and moving beneath him. A low moan escaped from his lips as he opened his eyes, or tried to. One eye remained stubbornly shut, while the other opened to a blurred vision of moving ground beneath him. He groaned again as nausea rose in his throat and he tried to rid the contents of his stomach, but nothing came up. Gagging and coughing, he closed his one eye and felt himself being pulled once again into the swirling mists of unconsciousness.

The next time he awoke, he felt himself being lifted and deposited non-too gently onto solid ground. The impact sent an explosion of pain through his body, but at the same time, he was also blindly grateful for the feel of the unmoving ground beneath him. With an effort, he willed himself to take slow, steadying breaths, forcing back the throbbing pain in his head and in his side.

Hands grasped at him and he felt himself being pulled into a sitting position. The movement sent a new wave of pain through him and he groaned.

"Here, drink." Something was thrust near his lips and instinctively, he drank and was grateful for the liquid coolness against his parched and burning throat.

"Enough, or you will be sick again," the same voice said as the water source was pulled away just as abruptly. Then he felt something damp against the fierce ache in his temple and he tried to draw away from renewed source of pain.

"Hold still while I clean your gash or you will start the bleeding again."

Legolas at last forced open his eyes. Things danced and swam in a haze before him and he quickly shut his eyes again as nausea threatened him once more. He sucked in deep ragged breaths and managed to force back the rising nausea. After a spell, he tentatively opened his eyes again and found to his relief that his vision cleared sufficiently for him to focus on the one before him. It was Meldon.

The other sat back on his heels with a cloth in one hand and a water skin in the other. "There, you will live. The gash is not serious."

Legolas shifted slightly and realized for the first time that his arms were bound securely behind him, as were his ankles. From the numbness stemming from his extremities, he must have been tied as such for quite some time now. With infinite care, Legolas turned and looked about him. They were still within the woods, but there was no sense of familiarity to these trees. Daylight was gone. They must be hours from the palace, Legolas noted with a sinking heart.

"Where are you taking me?" Legolas asked. He was surprised at the weakness of his own voice.

Meldon shook his head and offered no response.

Legolas looked about him once more. Three horses were grazing quietly across the small clearing, but there was no sign of the other elf.

"Where is your father?"

As if in response, Ambartur dropped from the trees and made his way toward his prisoner. "I am here. Fear not, you will not be rid of me that easily."

"What do you want with me?" Legolas asked.

The older elf regarded him coldly. ‘Are you certain that you wish to be told of your fate? Very well then, I am delivering you into the hands of a certain group of Easterlings."

Legolas felt his heart drop. "Why? Why are you delivering me into the hands of Men? What do you hope to gain?"

"Gain? I have nothing to gain. I merely wish to get back what is mine. They have my son and have agreed to return him to me if I offer you in return."

Legolas blinked in confusion. "I do not understand. Why would Men be holding your son?"

"They want an end to Thranduil and his reign. They hold my son to ensure that I would cooperate fully with them."

"Then why have you not asked the King for aid? Surely, my adar would deal with the Easterlings in ways that they deserve and bring back your son to you," Legolas asked.

"Ask Thranduil for aid? You think we have not tried? And yet the King sends no one. We were left to our own demise. And who came to our aid when we were threatened by the Shadow? Not the King, but Men. They have offered us more help than the King and his warriors have ever done."

"And yet they hold your son ransom," Legolas pointed out.

"They will release him once I deliver you into their hands. They have no quarrel with me. It is Thranduil they want to rid of. Once Thranduil’s reign is toppled, the Easterlings will give us protection that the King was never able to provide. They will help us to conquer the Shadow that Thranduil was so ineffective in doing."

"That is not true!" Legolas cried hotly. "If not for the King, Mirkwood would long have been overtaken by the Shadow."

"All Thranduil has done is to send our warriors to their unwarranted deaths! My own son perished under your brother’s command. A fine warrior if there was one, and now he is dead! And is the Shadow defeated? No, it is creeping closer and closer, choking off the life of the settlements. The reign of Thranduil must end if we are to survive."

"You would side with Men against your own kind?" Legolas asked.

"I would side with whoever can help our kind to survive," the older elf said coldly. "And if I have to work with Men, then so be it."

"The Easterlings want Mirkwood. They will not let our kind continue living here when they have gained control of these woods," Legolas said.

"The Easterlings have helped us in the past. You know not what you speak of!"

"I know not to betray my own king and my people!" Legolas said defiantly.

Without warning, Ambartur backhanded him with a vicious blow that sent the younger elf to the ground.

"Be silent! I will not put up with such words from an elfling who knows nothing of the hardship beyond the palace walls. While you are living your life as a pampered prince, elves struggled daily to survive. While you have your own personal guard to protect you from every perceived harm and danger, we are forced to watch our children grow up in constant fear with no other protection than what we can provide ourselves. We send our children to join the ranks of warriors, only to have them killed while their own settlements stand unprotected. It is not betrayal! I am trying to right the wrongs that have gone on for far too long!"

Legolas struggled into an upright position and spat out the blood in his mouth. "You are a subject of the King. To turn against him is betrayal, nothing less. You are helping the Easterlings to defeat your own king and people. Nothing you can say can justify such betrayal!"

"You will be silent!" Ambartur struck him again, and again. With his hands tied behind him, Legolas could not protect himself from the barrage of blows and kicks that the other elf was inflicting on him. When the other’s foot connected with the barely healed wound on his side, he cried out in pain and his world once again disappeared into black oblivion.

Meldon cringed at the sound of Legolas’ cry of pain and put a restraining hand on his father. "Adar, you will kill him if you continue to beat him. We need to deliver him alive to the Easterlings."

Ambartur shook off the other’s hand angrily. "The brat needed a lesson. What knows he of the hardship that the rest of us have had to endure? Get him onto the horse. We need to be off."

"Yes, Adar." Silently, he lifted the seemingly lifeless form from the ground, frowning at the darkening bruises and the spreading stain on the young elf’s tunic. He pressed his lips into a thin line and forced away any wavering thoughts of guilt and sympathy. His young brother was in the hands of the Easterlings and he was determined to bring him back, even if it meant the certain death of the young prince. He could see no other option.

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 5 Sons and Brothers

Aldeon knelt by the body of the dead guard, his own fingers cradling the other’s cold and lifeless hand. The arrow that had pierced the elf was a Mirkwood arrow. He had been killed by his own kind. This was the same guard that he had personally chosen to ensure the safety of his youngest brother, and now the guard was dead. Fear and anger gripped the prince. There was no question now that Legolas was in the hands of the traitors.

He laid the unresponsive hand down gently and beckoned to one of the warriors. "Take him back to the palace. Tell the King that this was the guard that I had assigned to Legolas. Tell the King also that we will spare nothing to bring Legolas back."

"Yes, Lord Aldeon. I pray with all my heart that you will find the young prince safe, and that you bring death to the traitors."

Aldeon nodded grimly. "Ride back with care."

A certain solemnness had fallen upon the remaining warriors. The death of an elf was distressing enough, but when the death was caused by a fellow elf, the horror was almost incomprehensible. And yet, Aldeon could almost feel the hardening of the warriors’ determination and resolve to hound down the traitors and to bring their young prince back safe and whole. The task before them was a daunting one, but Aldeon could detect no sense of hesitancy or reserve among the warriors before him. There may be traitors within Mirkwood, but many more were still fiercely loyal and adhered to a strict code of honour. And for that, Aldeon was thankful.

"My Lord,"

Aldeon turned at the sound of the voice. It was Hesin. The older warrior had been one of the first to join this mission. Indeed, so many warriors had volunteered that Aldeon had to turn away a number of them. There had been a certain feeling of outrage among the warriors that anyone would dare to harm one of the King’s sons, especially the one son who had so recently risked his own life to save the woodland realm.

"Yes, Hesin?"

"I have searched the surrounding area. There are no signs of any struggle. I believe the killer had fired his arrow from the trees," Hesin reported. "I can make out two sets of tracks beyond here. One set is lighter than the other. Their steps were not hurried."

"Legolas and Meldon?" Aldeon suggested. "Then someone else must have killed Legolas’ guard, rather than Meldon. If there are only two sets of tracks ahead, then the killer must have continued his way through the trees."

Hesin nodded. "That would be my guess as well."

"All right, lead the way, Hesin. We will follow these tracks on foot for the time being," Aldeon ordered. The other warriors fell in line and made their way carefully through the trees, scrutinizing each bent leaf, each broken twig for clues of their quarry.

Soon they came upon a small break among the trees. Aldeon came to an abrupt stop, followed closely by his warriors. Dropping to one knee, Aldeon studied the patch of slightly flattened leaves.

"Something happened here,’ he said softly as he was joined by Hesin. "There was a struggle of some sort here." He reached out and picked up a leaf, dotted unnaturally with brownish stains. "Blood." And deep in his heart, he knew the blood belonged to Legolas.

"The young prince," Hesin said shakily.

Aldeon closed his eyes, the stained leaf gripped tightly in his fist. Legolas could not be dead for surely the traitors would not trouble themselves by taking his body with them. Blood. They had hurt his brother. Aldeon stood up.

"We are on their track. Let us move on," he ordered grimly. He gripped the stained leaf tighter. Hold on, Legolas, we are coming. You must hold on.

xxxx
Once again, Legolas was drawn to the world of waking by pain. This time, however, he could not even be certain of the source of pain for he seemed to hurt all over. Vaguely, he could hear himself moan but was quite helpless to stop the sounds. As before, he felt hands shifting him into an upright position and eased back again a hard surface. The movement brought forth fresh waves of pain and he cried out weakly.

"Here, drink some water," a voice urged, though not unkindly.

He drank gratefully from the profferred water skin. Restored somewhat by the cool liquid, he found some remnants of strength and forced open his eyes. As the figure focused itself before him, memory also came pouring back, and with it anger and disdain for the elf who was now tending to him.

"Would you like more water?" Meldon asked hesitantly.

"You would keep me alive now just so that I can die by the hands of the Easterlings?" Legolas asked. His voice, though weak, did not lack contempt or loathing.

The other elf regarded him silently for a moment before answering, "Yes, I would. I would do all that within my means to deliver you to the Easterlings. I love my brother dearly and I want him back safely." He paused and looked at Legolas unflinchingly in the eyes. "You have brothers yourself. Would they not do the same for you? And you for them?"

For a brief moment, Legolas was taken back by the other’s question. He had risked his own life to save Feren and would willingly do so again without hesitation, but would he endanger someone else’s life to save his brother? Legolas shook his head. "My brothers would not sacrifice another life to save me, nor would they betray their kingdom for my life," Legolas said with steely confidence. "And I do not expect them to."

"Very honourable, indeed. I have long ago learned that honour alone is not enough to sustain life. I have lost one brother already, who died so honourably in battle. I do not mean to lose another," the other elf said in a level voice.

Legolas wanted to say more to counter the other’s words, but weariness and pain robbed him of the strength to continue. Though his legs were now untied, his hands were still bound behind his back. His hands were beyond numb now. In fact, he could not feel them at all. He shifted fractionally and grimaced with the pain brought forth by the small movement.

Meldon watched him closely. "Your wound has reopened. I have re-bandaged it as best as I can. I am afraid I have nothing to ease the pain." He paused as Legolas again tried to shift his bound arms. "If I untie your hands, will you give me your word that you will not try to escape?"

Despite of his weakness, Legolas spat contemptuously, "I will not give my word to a traitor!" And then braced himself for more blows.

Surprisingly, the other elf merely regarded him in silence. Then still without a word, Meldon reached behind his captive and cut the ropes that bound the other’s hands. Seeing that Legolas was unable to move his own arms, he eased them forward and began to massage them, his touch surprisingly gentle.

As the blood began to flow back into his deadened limbs, the accompanying agony left Legolas gasping and shaking with pain. He clamped his lips together fiercely for fear that whimpers may escape between his clenched teeth. He would not allow himself to show weakness before the one who had betrayed him. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his breathing, but even drawing in breath was painful. Ambartur’s beating had inflicted more damage than just the reopening of his wound. Kala and his adar would not be pleased. Then with a shock that left him dangerously close to tears, he realized that he might never see his adar or his brothers again. The full impact of his present situation suddenly struck him with mind-numbing fear and dread. He swallowed hard, but the lump did not go away. Stop it, he chided himself angrily. You will not shame yourself! You are Thranduil’s son!

Abruptly, he pulled his arms from the other’s massaging hands. "Leave me be! I do not need your ministrations just so that you can deliver me to my death!"

Surprised at the sudden outburst from the prince, Meldon sat back on his heels. "All right, but I would suggest that you rest while you can. We will be moving out as soon as my father returns."

"Return from conspiring with the Easterlings on how to bring down Mirkwood?" Legolas asked disdainfully.

"My father’s intention is not to bring down Mirkwood. He merely wishes for the survival of his family and of his fellow elves at the settlement," Meldon said quietly, staring down at his hands. "He wants his youngest son back. Though it may not be apparent to your eyes, he loves us very much."

As he listened to Meldon’s quiet words, Legolas found his anger slowly dissipating. Was Ambartur so different from his own adar? To what length would Thranduil go to to protect his own family? Legolas was certain that his adar was at this moment scouring the entire kingdom inside out searching for him and would spare nothing to bring him back to safety. But he was also certain that Thranduil would never betray another elf to accomplish this end.

"Your father is wrong," Legolas said.

"It is never wrong to love your family!" For the first time, there was emotion in the other elf’s voice.

"No, but it is wrong to betray your own kind. It is wrong to conspire with outsiders to bring down your own king. Others will die too if the King falls for there are far more than you can imagine who are fiercely loyal to my adar. They will not stand by idly if their king is in danger." Legolas shook his head. "If I were your brother, I would not want my life saved at the expense of so many."

"If your adar had been a good king, then Mirkwood would not be held hostage by the forces of evil."

"Thranduil is a good king!" Legolas protested hotly. "If not for him, Mirkwood would long be lost to the Shadow. Your brother is being held hostage by the Easterlings. They are the forces of evil that you speak of and by colluding with them, you too will become part of that evil."

Meldon stood up abruptly and turned his back to the prince. "I do not wish to speak of this further. Of course you would defend your own father, as I would for mine. I am sorry, Legolas. I like you, but I love my brother more. I have no choice in this if I want the safe return of my brother. When my father returns, we will ride out to meet the Easterlings. Rest and conserve your strength for what lies ahead. You may not find the Men as kind a captor as I."

With an effort, Legolas willed himself not to shudder at the other’s last words. Meldon had probably spoken the truth. He did not want to think what fate awaited him once he became a prisoner of the Easterlings. Death was almost a certainty, which made his stomach tightened with fear, but what frightened him even more was the fact that the men will more likely than not use him as a tool to bring down his own father. With this last thought, he looked about him in near panic. He must escape somehow! But how? He could barely sit up on his own and the slightest movement brought waves of pain that threatened to obliterate all his senses. How could he possibly escape in the condition that he was in?

He had never felt so helpless, or so alone.

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 6 – In Pursuit

For almost two days now, they had painstakingly followed the tracks of Legolas and his captors. Captors. Legolas was no longer held by Meldon alone. Aldeon fervently hoped that the third member was one of the two known rogue scouts, and not someone else who was a party to the treachery, someone whose identity that had so far escaped their discovery. What they had found along the way so far had not been encouraging. In fact, Aldeon now deeply feared for the life of his brother.

Their quarries were no longer on foot but were riding swiftly through the now thinning woods. Among the hoof prints were droplets of blood. Though the droplets were miniscule and few in number, the discovery of each crimson spot tightened the fear around Aldeon’s heart like an unwanted and hope-depriving noose. Further along, they had found a patch of blood where a scuffle had obviously taken place. More disturbing, however, were the strands of gold hair, ominously tinged with red, that were also recovered from the same site. With the exception of the King and his youngest son, fair hair was rarely seen among the elves of Mirkwood.

Anger vied with fear as Aldeon urged his horse forward. They had hurt his brother. It was not sufficient that they had taken him prisoner, but they had dared to hurt him. In Aldeon’s mind, the fate of the traitors was sealed. He cared not now whether the traitorous elves would ever be brought back to the palace alive to face justice. Indeed, he would kill the rogues with his bare hands if they would but show themselves before him now.

The wooded areas were behind them now as the landscape changed to one of barren rock interspersed with patches of grass. In one direction, the ground rose sharply to a rising wall of rocky outcrops with hidden crevices and deep hollows etched into the stony surfaces, creating a series of shallow caves. The creatures of Shadow had often hidden and attacked from these rocky hills, but at the moment, all seemed quiet and absent of malice.

With so much of the ground covered by rocky outcrops, any tracks left by Legolas and his captors would be difficult, if not impossible, to trace. Aldeon sent several of his warriors ahead to search the barren land for clues of the direction that their quarry had taken. His eyes swept the rocky hills time and time again.

"Do you think they are hidden in the hills, my lord?" Hesin asked quietly beside him.

"I do not know," Aldeon admitted.

"They have left no indication that they rested along the way. And if the young prince is injured, they may need to rest. Perhaps we should search the hills."

Aldeon shook his head. "I doubt that they would have the well-being of Legolas in mind at all. Their pace has been very fast. It would seem that they are in a hurry to get to somewhere. They would not tarry to allow Legolas rest." Aldeon gestured to the barren grounds before them. "That is the direction to their settlement. It is my guess that they will more likely head directly to their settlement."

"But Lord Feren and his troops are watching over the settlement. They would not be so foolish as to ride straight into their own capture."

"They do not know that Lord Feren is there. My brothers had ridden out on their last patrol on the pretense that they were tracking down advancing spiders when in fact they were seeking out the ones who had betrayed Mirkwood," Aldeon explained.

Hesin nodded. "Then it would make sense that they should now ride to the settlement. What I do not understand though is why have they taken the young prince? For what purpose will that serve other than to prove to all that they are in fact guilty of treachery against their own kind?"

"Perhaps they intend to use Legolas as a means to force the King to submit to whatever foul scheme they are plotting. I suspect they will eventually send word to the King as to the truth of their desires, in one way or another." Aldeon’s face was grim.

"We will rescue the young prince from the traitors before their treacherous schemes can be put into place," Hesin said resolutely.

"I hope you are right," Aldeon said. "For I fear we are running out of time even as we speak."

At this moment, they were approached by one of the warriors who had ridden ahead to check for tracks.

"My lord, we have found signs up ahead of horses passing through this way," the elf reported. "They appear to be recent tracks."

Aldeon nodded. "Lead the way, and we will follow."

"You are correct, my lord, for it appears that they are heading for the settlement," Hesin said as he remounted his own horse.

"Manveru and Ambartur are skilled scouts. It surprises me that they should leave so blatant a trail for us to follow," Aldeon said, voicing the doubt that had been plaguing his mind for some time now.

"Perhaps they do not know that we are on their trail. After all, they have no way of knowing that their treachery has come to light," Hesin offered as they urged their horses forward.

"I hope you are right," Aldeon nodded, though he did not feel completely reassured.

Hours later in their pursuit, the sparse tracks left by their quarry completely disappeared. Aldeon brought the troops to a halt and studied the line of tress that loomed ahead, beyond which was the settlement.

"Perhaps they took to the trees," Hesin offered, though his own voice sounded doubtful.

"If Legolas is injured, it will be difficult for them to take the route of the trees." Aldeon pursed his lips and made his decision. "We will head to the settlement. Heighten your senses for I do not know whether Lord Feren has taken complete control of the settlement yet. We may be greeted by either ally or foe when we go through these woods."

Scarcely had they entered the woods before two elves dropped before them from the trees. Aldeon immediately recognized them to be of Feren’s patrol. Relief flooded through him. His brother was in control of the settlement then.

"Greetings, Lord Aldeon," the elves saluted.

Aldeon returned the salute. "Lord Feren is at the settlement?"

One of the elves nodded. "Yes. He has placed guards throughout these woods to ensure the identity of everyone who approaches. No one has been allowed to leave the settlement."

"All right, return to your posts. We will make our own way to Lord Feren. Signal to the others of our approach," Aldeon ordered. He had wanted to inquire the elves of the situation at the settlement, but decided that he would wait to speak directly with Feren. He held a glimmer of hope yet that he may find Legolas alive and well with his other brother.

The settlement was a relatively small one, no more than a handful of cottages built upon a clearing surrounded by the woods. Aldeon took note of members of his brother’s patrol stationed strategically throughout the settlement. Of the settlement elves themselves, few were to be seen, and those few watched the procession of the newly arrived warriors in sullen silence. Though there was no open hostility, Aldeon could detect no sense of welcome either. It was disconcerting to be greeted with such impassivity by their own kind.

Leaving his troops behind, Aldeon was led by another elf to one of the cottages, which appeared to be a central place of gathering from which the elders directed the affairs of the settlement. There he found Feren conversing with another warrior. At his entry, his brother looked up, his face lit up with surprise.

"Aldeon." He came forward quickly and the two brothers embraced. The other elves left the two princes, closing the door behind them discreetly.

"I must admit to be surprised to see you here, Aldeon," Feren said. "I had expected Tavaro to return with word from Adar."

Though he already knew the answer, Aldeon could not help but ask, fear edging his voice. "Is Legolas here?"

"Legolas?" the other asked blankly. "No, why should he be here?" The fear in his brother’s voice had communicated itself to him. He gripped Aldeon by the shoulder. "What has happened?"

"They have Legolas," Aldeon answered almost resignedly.

"Who? Who has Legolas? Is Legolas not recovering still at the palace?"

Aldeon shook his head. "He was last seen leaving the palace with Meldon, the son of Ambartur."

Feren fell back a step, his face sharp with fear and concern. "Ambartur’s son? But I sent Tavaro with the message to Adar of Ambartur and Manveru’s treachery Did he not deliver it?"

"Aye, he did, but we had not known Legolas to be in the company of Meldon until it was too late. I have been in pursuit of Legolas and his captors for three days now. We lost their tracks just before we reached these woods. I had hoped that the traitors would have brought Legolas to the settlement here." Suddenly, Aldeon felt all the weariness of the last three days’ pursuit.

"Sit down, Aldeon. You are weary. I shall order food and drink for you," Feren said as he pressed his older brother onto the nearest chair.

"The warriors who have accompanied me have also ridden without rest. Please make arrangements to tend to their needs as well," Aldeon said.

Feren nodded, "I will ensure that they are provided for. Rest, Aldeon. I will be back as soon as I can."

True to his word, Feren returned minutes later with food and wine for his brother. There were many questions that he had for Aldeon, but he forced himself to remain silent as his older brother took in the much needed food and drink. The traitors have Legolas. The thought churned relentlessly over and over in his mind, along with countless questions of how and why. Feren forced himself to remain still even though every muscle in him screamed for action, to leave immediately in search of his young brother, to bring him back to safety. Years of commanding troops had taught him that to rush out without proper planning was pure folly. And yet he could little control the insistent voice that rang again and again through his mind. His little brother was in danger.

Knowing that his brother must be more than anxious to be told of what had taken place, Aldeon had barely swallowed the last of his food when he began to tell Feren all that he knew. At the end, the two brothers sat in grim silence as each contemplated in his own mind all that had taken place.

"Where have they taken Legolas? And what do they want with him?" Feren asked, more to himself than to expect answers.

"They must have discovered that the settlement is under scrutiny and are in hiding somewhere. As to what they want to do with Legolas, it is my guess that they will use Legolas as leverage to compel Adar to comply with their demands," Aldeon said.

"Fools!" Feren said angrily. "Do they not know by now that their king is not one to be persuaded by treachery?"

"They hold Legolas," Aldeon reminded gently. "All of Mirkwood knows of the King’s devotion to his youngest."

"Then they are all the more the fools to risk the wrath of the King should they harm Legolas."

"They have already harmed him," Aldeon said in a tight voice. "Have you found out any more information from the elves of the settlement? The elders must know why Legolas was taken and where he may be held. We must question them."

Feren nodded grimly. "That is our only option at the moment for it would be folly for us to go out and search blindly for Legolas. Come, Aldeon. I will take you to where the elders are being kept under guard. I had intended to take them all back to the palace for disposition by Adar."

Aldeon nodded. "That is what Adar had ordered."

"Prepare yourself, Aldeon. Yulion is an arrogant old fool and the others seem to have no mind of their own," Feren warned as he led the way to another cottage.

His brother smiled wryly. "Tavaro and Adar have said as much about Yulion. His arrogance may work to our advantage."

"If we could resist from throttling him first," Feren said grimly.

xxxx

"So they have your brother, "Yulion said, regarding the two princes before him with a certain amount of satisfaction. "Then there is hope."

"Hope for what?" Feren demanded.

"Hope for our settlement, and for Mirkwood," the older elf said with disdain.

"Explain yourself," Aldeon said in a quiet though commanding voice.

"You and your king shall find out all soon enough," Yulion said.

"Allow me to remind you that Thranduil is the King of all woodland elves, such as yourself," Feren said, glaring at the other elf.

Yulion snorted most disagreeably. "King of all woodland elves? What has he done for Mirkwood? What has he done for settlements such as ours? We fend for ourselves, with no help from the King whatsoever. The Shadow threatens us, but we are left to fight the evil on our own. Where was the King when our children were taken and killed by the forces of the Shadow? Where was the King when our land was trampled and destroyed by the dark creatures?"

"The King has sent patrols through this part of Mirkwood on many occasions," Feren pointed out. "And yet we have heard no charges of these threats that you speak of."

"Bah! Occasional patrols are not enough! We need warriors stationed here on a permanent basis if we are to be sufficiently protected," Yulion countered.

Aldeon placed a restraining hand on his brother’s shoulder. "Yulion, you may take up these charges with the King when we return to the palace, but right now, you need to tell us where your sons have taken my brother and what they intend to do with him."

"You will not be taking us back to the palace," Yulion said with confidence. "Thranduil is no longer our king. Others will come to our aid."

Aldeon regarded him in silence before turning his eyes to the other four elves sitting with Yulion. "Does he speak for all of you? He has just admitted to being a traitor to our King and will be dealt with as such. You must speak up now or be considered in collusion with him."

"I speak for them all," Yulion said firmly. "And we are not traitors." He turned to his fellow elves. "Do not listen or fear him for we are no longer under Thranduil’s control. Soon we will be free of them."

"Who will free you?" Feren demanded.

"Men, the Easterlings. They will come to our aid once your brother is delivered into their hands," Yulion said and watched with satisfaction as Aldeon and Feren looked at each in fear.

"Your sons mean to deliver Legolas to the Easterlings?" Aldeon asked, quite unable to control the quiver of fear in his voice.

"It is one way to ensure that Thranduil will do as we bid if his son’s life is at stake. The Easterlings have assured us that your brother’s life will not be harmed if Thranduil gives up the reign of Mirkwood quietly and without fight. They will help us build a new Mirkwood, one that is free from the Shadow and its evils."

Feren looked at the other elf incredulously." You would take the word of Men?
You would bring down your own king in conspiracy with the Easterlings? You are a bigger fool than I thought possible. Without the King, Mirkwood would be no more. How can you possibly imagine the Easterlings will allow the continued existence of elves once they gain control of Mirkwood? If the Easterlings take control of Mirkwood, you will be enslaved at best, and at worse, you will be obliterated, along with all your fellow elves."

"You are wrong!" Yulion protested. "Men have been our allies in the past and have come to our aid when the King refused to provide us with protection. We have co-existed with Men like this for years. They will not turn against us."

"They will turn against you once they have achieved what they want, and that is the control of Mirkwood. You must come to your senses before it is all too late. Tell us where your sons have taken Legolas," Aldeon spoke up, forcing himself to sound no more than reasonable.

"All I know is that they will take your brother to the Easterlings. Where, I do not know and even if I do, I will not tell you."

It took all of Feren’s willpower not to cleave the elf before him into halves with his knife. Yulion must be speaking the truth, for he was far too arrogant not to be. Through the haze of his anger, he heard Aldeon speaking to the elders.

"You have all admitted to the betrayal of the King and you will be treated as traitors. You will be taken back to the palace and tried for what you have done. Expect no mercy from the King or from your fellow elves. What you have done is totally unforgivable for you have put all lives of Mirkwood at risk. Think, while you are able, of all the lives that will be brought down should this despicable ploy of yours succeeds. Think and see if you can live with such consequences." Aldeon regarded them with total loathing and disdain. "I doubt that even in death, your souls will ever be cleansed of the blood that will be spilled." He turned to his brother. "Come, Feren. Let us leave these treacherous creatures for I feel soiled just breathing in the same air as they do."

Once outside, Feren seemed totally deflated by the magnitude of what they now know. "What shall we do, Aldeon?"

"We must send word to Adar and inform him of what is happening. He will need to prepare, for I fear the Easterlings’ ultimate goal is the annihilation of Mirkwood. You and I will ride out after Legolas."

"But we have no idea where Legolas is being held or where he is being taken to," Feren said rather hopelessly.

"We will ride east toward the Men’s stronghold beyond the borders of Mirkwood. That will be where the traitors will be taking Legolas. If we hurry, we may be able to intercept them before Legolas falls into the Men’s hands. Leave sufficient warriors behind to guard the settlement and gather together the remainder and prepare to ride out. I will send someone with the message to Adar."

Feren nodded, grateful for the steady presence of his older brother, and the other’s decisiveness in the need of action. He hurried through the settlement, anxious to find his second-in-command to issue the order for moving out. Legolas, we are coming. Please hold on, little brother. We are coming.

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 7 The Pawn

"Tie him up quickly. We have lost much time already!" The irate voice, together the sting of the rough rope once again binding his already raw wrists, brought Legolas sharply back from the depths of semi-consciousness. He blinked open his eyes in confusion while instinctively pulling back his hands from the flashing pain.

"Keep still or it will hurt even more," Meldon cautioned as he wound the ropes around the scraped and bleeding wrists, trying to ignore the grimaces of pain flashing across the other elf’s face.

‘You should not have untied him in the first place," Ambartur admonished. "He could have escaped."

Meldon cast a sullen glance at his father. "He is in no shape to move on his own, let alone escape."

"We can ill afford to take risks, not if we want to get your brother back. Now let us be off." The older elf turned toward the entrance of the shallow cave.

"Can you move?" Meldon asked as he looked at Legolas with uncertainty.

Clenching his teeth with effort, Legolas managed to push himself halfway into an upright position before dizziness and pain overwhelmed him and his legs buckled helplessly under him. He would have crumbled to the ground had Meldon not grabbed him by the arm and pulled him upright again. Biting back a cry of pain, Legolas forced his shaky legs to straighten and take on the burden of his own weight.

Meldon shifted his grip on the other’s arm. "We will have to climb down some rocks. Can you manage?"

Legolas was tempted to pull his arm away from the other’s supporting grip, but he knew that he would not get far without Meldon’s aid. "I can manage." Bracing himself against the pain that seemed to scream from every muscle, he forced his feet forward, allowing the other elf to half-support and half-pull him toward the mouth of the cave.

Once outside, he looked about him, realizing for the first time that they were atop of a rocky incline that was part of a cluster of jagged hills that rose above the barren grounds below. He eyed the rocky path before him and wondered how he was going to make it down to level ground without falling. Ambartur was already waiting for them at the bottom of the incline, the three horses shifting restlessly by his side.

"Lean on me," Meldon said, not unkindly. "I will not let you fall."

Relinquishing his pride out of absolute necessity, Legolas allowed the other elf half carry him down the rocky path. Even then, Legolas wanted nothing more than to sink down onto the ground and give in to the easy darkness by the time they reached the bottom. Instead, he felt himself being lifted onto one of the horses. He tried to straighten and found that he could only manage to rise to a half slouch over the horse’s mane. At least his hands were not tied behind him this time, he thought in hazy consolation as he gripped the silky mane, determined not to shame himself further by falling off the horse.

"Where is Uncle?" Meldon asked his father as he mounted his own steed.

"We had to change our plans. The settlement is under watch by Feren and his troops. Aldeon and another group of warriors have been tracking us for days now."

Legolas lifted his head at the mention of the names. "My brothers are here?"

"Do not let your hopes rise for I have no intention of letting them get anywhere near where we are taking you," Ambartur said coldly as he urged his horse into a quick cantor. The other two horses instinctively followed his lead.

"Then they must have found out about us," Meldon said.

"Thranduil is no fool. It was only a matter of time before he found out. Aldeon has been riding no more than a few hours behind us. Had I not ridden ahead with the horses to lead him away, he would have found you both in the cave."

Legolas felt a surge of hope as he listened to the other elf’s words. His brother was near, looking for him. Perhaps his situation was not so bleak after all.

"What do we do now?" Meldon asked his father.

"We cannot go by the way of the settlement now. Your grandfather and the other elders are being held under guard. Thranduil’s two sons are riding out in search of this one. Your uncle has ridden ahead to try to draw them away from us. We will take another path to where the Easterlings are, but we must ride quickly for we have lost too much time already."

"If my brothers are out there, you will not succeed," Legolas said.

"They know not where we are taking you. We will have delivered you to the Easterlings before they can ever get near," the older elf said with confidence.

"Cease your dealings with Men. My brothers can help you get your son back," Legolas said.

"No! I have no faith in Thranduil and his sons. My son will be returned to me as soon as I deliver you into the hands of the Easterlings. Resign to your fate, elfling, for nothing you say can deter what I am set to do."

"My brothers will find me," Legolas said with determination.

"If that should be the case, I shall kill you before they can rescue you. They will not get you back alive. If my son is to die, then so shall you."

Legolas was taken back by the venom in the other’s voice. "We are both of the elf kind. Why do you hate me so much?"

"Because you are Thranduil’s son. I want him to know the pain of losing a son as I have known it, and will do so again if I fail to deliver you to the Men."

"You cannot blame the King for the death of your son. He was killed in battle, as were many of our warriors. Your son died defending Mirkwood, and you will dishonour his death should you continue your collusion with Men."

"My son died in vain! We turn to others for help because we can no longer rely on our own kind for aid. Now cease talking or I will be tempted to give you another beating." Turning to his son who was leading Legolas’ horse, he ordered, "We must quicken our pace. Make sure he attempts nothing foolish!"

As his horse quickened into a fast gallop, it was all Legolas could do to hold onto its mane as the incessant jostling sent waves of pain through his battered body. He was certain his wound was bleeding again, and the light rain that was falling chilled him to his bones. Aldeon and Feren were out there searching for him. He held grimly onto this thought as they raced forward. Somehow he had to get away. Desperately, his mind flitted with plans of escape, but each option was defeated by the weakness of his body. He cursed his own frailty that bound him as a virtual prisoner to the other two elves. The mounting frustration over his helpless plight and the endless pain that was leaching the very life from him brought him once more precariously close to tears. He closed his eyes and hunched further down atop of the galloping horse, beseeching to his brothers in anguished silence. Please, Aldeon, please, Feren. Please hurry, for I do not know how much longer I can hold on. And I am so frightened. Please hurry!

xxxxx

He knew not how long they had raced across the land. At times he was barely conscious and he was certain darkness overtook him more than once, but somehow he managed to stay seated atop of his horse. The only thing that was constant was the pain, and the cold. As the hours waned, so did his hope of being rescued by his brothers.

"I bring you the son of Thranduil."

Those were the first coherent words that Legolas heard in a long while. He blinked open his eyes and forced himself upright, biting back the sounds of pain. He felt hands reaching for him and he was pulled off his horse non-too-gently. The same hands now gripped him tightly and propelled him forward several steps.

"This is Thranduil’s youngest, as I have promised." The hands that held him and the voice that spoke were that of Ambartur. "Where is my son?"

Legolas looked about rather wildly and found that they were now in a large clearing, surrounded by Men. There seemed a great many of them and in the dimming light of the day, a certain menace emanated from these beings that made his stomach tightened with fear. It was not the first time that he had seen Men. On two previous occasions, he had visited Esgaroth and had found himself fascinated by these creatures who in some ways so resembled the elves. He had found it exciting then as he moved amongst the humans who had seemed friendly enough and he had interacted readily with them. But now, surrounded by the Easterlings, he felt only fear. He felt as vulnerable as fresh prey being cornered by a pack of hungry wolves. Unable to control himself, he shuddered and Ambartur’s grip tightened on his arm.

"So this is Thranduil’s son." One of the men stepped forward and studied Legolas intently. The young elf lifted his chin and forced himself to meet the human’s eyes squarely, even as his heart constricted with a nameless fear. Yes, he was Thranduil’s son and he would carry himself like the prince that he was.

"Where is my son?" Ambartur repeated his demand.

The man turned his head slightly and gave an order to the one behind him. "Bring the elf." Turning back to Ambartur, the man spoke again. "You have done well. My lord will see that you are justly rewarded for your efforts."

"I seek but two rewards. One is the return of my son," Ambartur said.

"And the other?" the man asked.

"Thranduil has learned of our plans. His warriors have taken control of our settlement and my father and the other elders are held under guard. I would ask your aid in freeing them."

The man nodded. "Consider it done. I shall send some of my men back with you. And here is your son."

"Adar! Meldon!"

Legolas saw an elf brought forward, flanked by two men who held him lightly by the arms. Ambartur loosened his grip on the young prince and pushed him forward to the man who had been speaking. The latter nodded slightly and his men released their hold on their charge. Instantly, the elf ran forward and into Ambartur’s arms.

"Adar!"

"Merimon!" Ambartur embraced the elf. "Are you well?"

"I am fine, Adar," the younger elf said, pulling himself away long enough to embrace his brother.

Meldon held his brother close. "Merimon! Thank the Valar!"

Legolas watched the reunion with a growing lump in his throat, recalling the countless times that he himself had been so held by his own father and brothers. He blinked rapidly and fiercely, forcing back the emotions that threatened the composure that he was trying so hard to maintain.

With his son securely held in his protective arms, Ambartur nodded briefly to the man. "As we both have what we want, I will take my leave now."

"If you will allow me a few minutes, I will ready my men to accompany you." The man turned and instructed the two who had brought forth Merimon. "Secure our prisoner. I will deal with him later."

Legolas found himself being led away. He cast a final look at the other elves and for a brief moment, met Meldon’s eyes. In them, Legolas saw turmoil of relief, remorse and shame. Legolas held onto the other’s eyes for as long as he could and in spite of himself, felt a fleeting sense of regret as he lost sight of his former captors. He was now a lone elf among Men. The thought made him want to weep.

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer. <>Ch. 8 The Captive

Legolas watched in guarded silence as the man approached, willing himself not to show any of the fear that was filling his very being. He kept his eyes trained straight ahead, refusing to look up even when the man came to a stop no more than a foot from where he sat, his back tight against the trunk of the tree that he was tethered to. His heart pounded furiously and his mouth was dry. It was a struggle to continue to draw in breath on regular intervals. The legs of the man shifted and his captor crouched down so that they were now face to face and Legolas found himself looking into the dark smiling face of his captor. It was not a kind face. In spite of his best efforts, Legolas shuddered.

"The son of Thranduil," the man said. "That makes you a prince. You do not look very princely right now. In fact, you look more like one of those miserable homeless urchins that roam our streets, begging for food and scraps."

Legolas pressed his lips into a thin line and defiantly turned his face away.

The man reached out and seized his chin in a bruising grip, forcing the young elf to face him once more. "You will look at me when I speak to you. You are now my prisoner and it will be wise for you not to cross me."

Legolas gathered the remnants of his strength and jerked his face away from the other’s brutal grip. He was instantly rewarded with a stinging blow across his face, the force of which snapped his head back painfully against the solid trunk of the tree.

"I warned you. Do not cross me," the man said, smiling again. "But fear not. I will not kill you, at least not just yet, for you are far too valuable."

"What do you want with me?" Legolas asked, and was quite pleased at the steadiness of his own voice.

"Ah, so you do have a tongue. I was beginning to think that Thranduil’s brat is a mute. What do I want with you? Surely you can guess by now." The man paused, and smiled again. "It is well known even among Men that Thranduil dotes on his youngest and that he goes to great lengths to protect that son from harm. What will he not do to have you returned safely?"

Even though he had long guessed the reason for his capture, to have that now confirmed by the man sent waves of cold despair through his heart.

Seeing the look of realization and fear on the young elf’s face, the man laughed. "With you in our hands, Mirkwood is ours."

Forcing the tremour from his voice, Legolas spoke steadily, "Your efforts are wasted. My father will not give into your demands. For him, as it should, Mirkwood comes before all else."

The man cocked his head slightly. "He would sacrifice the life of his son for the sake of his realm?"

Legolas nodded with a certain amount of pride. "Yes, for he is a good king. You will not bring him down."

The man smiled again. "That remains to be seen. You realize it does not bode well for you if he remains a good king, such as you have claimed."

Instinctively, Legolas squared his shoulders as much as his bonds allowed. "I do not fear death. I would sooner die than to become a tool that brings my father down."

"I applaud your bravery, young prince. Death by itself is easy. There are many things that are worse than death, however. And how would your father react if I should send a message to him, describing what would be done to you should he not abide by our demands?" He reached out and touched the sensitive tip of Legolas’ ear, forcing the young elf to cringe back against the tree. "Perhaps we can enhance the message with one of these ears? Or perhaps a finger or two? Piece by piece, we will return you to your father. How long do you think Thranduil can hold onto his realm then?"

"He will not give in. I am but one life. He will never sacrifice the lives of so many for one son. But if I should die in your hands, he will hunt you down and obliterate you so that there will be nothing left of any of you to be picked over by scavengers," Legolas spat out his words with all the contempt and scorn that he could muster.

"Spoken like a true prince. It will be interesting to see how long you can maintain such bravado. But I am told that elves are very resilient and can bear far beyond the endurance of man." He once more gripped Legolas by the chin and studied him closely. Tried as he might, the young elf could not pull himself free this time. He glared back in defiance.

The man released him and laughed. "You have all the arrogance that Thranduil is so infamous for. Well, it is time to bring an end to such arrogance. Thranduil will soon learn that he will have no choice but to deal with the very people that he holds in such disdain and contempt. It will be such a pleasure to hear him beg for your life."

"My father will not stoop so low as to beg from the likes of you," Legolas said scornfully. He was struck once more.

"You will learn to curb that arrogance of yours," the man said coldly. "Or you will learn to feel more than just my fist."

In complete defiance, Legolas spat the blood into the other’s face. "Your threats mean nothing to me!"

In a flash, the man cut the rope that tethered the elf to the tree and yanked him upright by the tunic.

"Secure his arms to that branch, for he needs a lesson that he will not soon forget," the man ordered furiously.

Two others ran forward to obey the order. Looping the cut rope through Legolas’ bound hands, the men then secured the same rope over a overhanging branch, pulling the elf’s arms tight above his head, leaving his feet barely touching the ground beneath him. Even before he realized what was happening, Legolas heard a strange whistling sound behind him and then something slammed onto his back, exploding in a hot snake of searing pain. He gasped and a small sound escaped from his lips. There was another whistle of air and he was struck again. This time he was able to bite off any sound of pain. The blows continued to rain down mercilessly and all that he could do was draw in shuddering sobs of breath in between each onslaught of pain. Then as suddenly as it had started, the whipping ceased. Legolas hung limply by the weight of his arms, unable to find the strength to pull himself upright to relieve the painful pull on his bound limbs. His back felt as if it had been ripped apart and set on fire.

"Not so arrogant now, are we?" Vaguely he heard the voice of his tormentor, speaking close to his ear. With a supreme effort, he tried to straighten his legs, only to have them buckle beneath him seconds later, leaving him panting with the effort and pain.

"You bleed, you feel the pain, just as we do. Why then are you elves so arrogant?" The mocking voice continued. "Is it because of your perceived immortality? But elves die too, do they not? In fact, did not many of your warriors perish when the orcs attacked Thranduil’s stronghold so short while ago? Were they not slaughtered by the orcs and their immortal blood spilled on the battleground?"

"The orcs were defeated," Legolas managed to give sound to the words in spite of the pain and the weakness. He gasped as his hair was yanked back cruelly and he was forced to look into the man’s angry face.

"Only because you interfered." He twisted his hand until Legolas feared that his hair was being ripped from his scalp. "Were it not for you, Thranduil’s stronghold would be flattened by now and your people enslaved under our command." Suddenly he released Legolas and stepped back. "But you are our prisoner now, to deal with as we see fit. You may have saved your people once, but you will be the one responsible for the final demise of Thranduil and Mirkwood."

"You were responsible for the orc attack on Mirkwood?" Legolas asked, anger fueling his waning strength as he recalled the blood that had been spilled during that battle.

The man laughed. "Let us say our hands were involved. Unlike the first-borns, and others who know not how to survive in times as these, my people can co-exist with the dark forces quite well. When this is all over, Mirkwood will be partitioned in ways that will satisfy all. Elves, I am afraid, will not share in such a partition. They will exist only to serve our desires and demands. That is, if we choose to let them exist at all."

"We would die before we would enslave ourselves to despicable creatures such as you," Legolas spat. He gasped as the whip once more made contact with his back.

"You will learn to serve us. Believe me, you will learn," the man said coldly. "You have provided enough sport for the night. We will continue tomorrow. You and I will be spending much time together, son of Thranduil. And you will learn to fear me." The whip struck again. "I will leave you hanging here for the night so that you may have all the time to contemplate on what lies ahead of you." The man began to cut the torn and bloody tunic from Legolas’ body. Smiling darkly, he held it up for the bound elf to see. "And tomorrow, my dear prince, we will send the first message to your father. He will see for himself your spilled blood on this tunic which will accompany the message."

He was at last left alone. Legolas buried his face into the side of his bound arm and bit back the tears that were threatening to spill over. Uncontrollably, he began to shake, both from the pain and the delayed shock of being whipped. Never before had he been struck in his life, and in the brief span of the past few days, he had tasted both the fist and the whip. No, he would not cry. He would not allow himself to expose such vulnerability to these Easterlings. He would not bring shame to himself or to his adar.

The thought of the King nearly undid the precarious hold he had on his emotions, and he nearly wept then at the thought of the pain that his father would surely feel when he learns of the plight of his youngest. That he should be the cause of such pain to his father was almost more than he could bear. Legolas fervently hoped that his adar was as strong a king as he had so declared to his captor, that Thranduil would not let the love for his son take precedence over his duty to his realm and his people.

Adar, you must not give in to the demands of these evil creatures. I do not fear death. I will accept whatever fate awaits me in the hands of these Men. But please do not let me become the weapon that brings the demise of Mirkwood and its people. As the pain at last began to steal away the final remnants of his remaining senses, he prayed to the Valar that his desperate pleas would somehow reach across the distance to his father’s heart, and that the King would abide by the final wishes of this one son.

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 9 Messages and Plans of Rescue

Thranduil stared blindly at the scroll lying on the desk before him. The words danced incoherently before him, but the King made no effort to concentrate on their meaning. He only knew too well the message that was imprinted on the curled and much-handled piece of parchment. In fact, he knew each word by heart, its meaning burned into his memory like an unwanted brand that his mind had no intentions of erasing.

The message had been from Aldeon, received early yesterday morn, and had not brought the much sought-after relief from fear that he and his other son had so fervently prayed for. Instead, it had brought further fear, laden upon that which already filled their hearts to the brim. Legolas had not been found. But what made Thranduil’s blood turned cold were the following words from his oldest son: "The traitors hold him still, and are intent upon delivering him into the hands of the Easterlings."

Even now, those very words sent a fresh wave of cold fear through him, robbing him of breath and clear thought. Legolas in the hands of the Easterlings. Never had he imagined such a scenario, not even in the deepest fears that were aroused when it came to the wellbeing of his youngest. His child in the hands of the Men of Darkness, known for their treachery and cruelty even against their own kind. Deep down, Thranduil knew, knew what the Men would demand of him while they held a knife to his son’s life. Already, the King was preparing himself for the next message that would arrive. That message would not be from Aldeon, or Feren, and Thranduil shuddered at the very thought of the choice that he knew he would have to make, a choice that no father should ever have to make.

As these dark thoughts and fears tightened their stranglehold on his heart and mind, Thranduil heard a sharp knock on the door and instinctively braced himself. So soon. So soon would the last remnants of hope be tore from him. He watched in numbed silence as Tavaro entered the room, white-faced and bearing a parcel in his hand.

"Adar." His son approached him. "This was found near one of the outermost cottages. It is for you."

Thranduil met the eyes of his son, and recognized in them the unspoken fear. The King reached for the package, his hand trembling ever so slightly. For a long moment, he stared down at the cloth-wrapped parcel.

"Adar, open it," Tavaro urged, a tremour in his usually light voice.

Thranduil nodded, his cold fingers reaching for the knot. It seemed to take an eternity before the package lay exposed, and it was Tavaro who cried out as he snatched up the familiar green tunic, tattered and stained ominously with streaks and patches of what could only be blood. Legolas’ blood.

In silence, Thranduil picked up the scroll that lay under the stained tunic. A cold calmness descended upon him as he read the words once, and then read them again. At last he looked up and met his son’s anguished filled eyes. "The Easterlings have Legolas. Unless I agree to their demands within a week, they will return Legolas to me, one limb at a time."

"If they harm one hair on his head, I will kill rip them apart with my bare hands!" Tavaro said in cold fury.

"They have already hurt him," Thranduil said as he reached for the tattered tunic from his son’s grasp. "Look how they have hurt him."

Tavaro quickly scanned the ominous message and looked at his father in beseeching anguish. "Adar, what shall we do?"

From Thranduil, there was only painful silence.

Fear and disbelief filled Tavaro’s heart. "You do not mean to leave Legolas in their hands, do you?"

"Tavaro, I am the King. Mirkwood and its people come first, before all else," Thranduil said quietly, hating the sound of the words in his own ears.

"You would let them do what they threatened to do to Legolas?" Tavaro was on his feet. "You would sit back and do nothing while they torture your own son to death?"

"Tavaro!" Thranduil said sharply.

"I am sorry, Adar. I am so sorry." Tears filled his son’s eyes. "I do not mean those words."

Thranduil drew his son into his arms. "If you but know the pain that is tearing my heart apart now. I would willingly give up my life for Legolas, for any one of my sons. But as King, my duty to the realm and its people comes before my duty as father. Forgive me, Tavaro."

"No, Adar, I should be the one to beg forgiveness. My words were spoken in haste," Tavaro said tearfully, holding tight to the embrace of his father. "But I simply cannot bear the thought of Legolas being harmed. Is there naught that we can do? I cannot live with myself if I sit by idly while they kill my brother. Let me go find him, please, Adar."

Thranduil pressed him down back onto the chair. "Your brothers are searching for him right now, along with all our available warriors. You know Aldeon and Feren will spare nothing in their search for Legolas. We must put our faith in them. No, as desperate as I am to ride out after your brother, it will be folly to do so in blind haste, for even Aldeon and Feren do not know where Legolas is being held hostage, but they will find him. I am certain of it. And when they do, these scum of Arda will rue the day that they drew their first foul breath." Thranduil narrowed his eyes and Tavaro saw a look in them that sent an involuntary shudder through him. The ferocity of anger that burned in the King's eyes would surely burn a soul alive. "I will not give in to the demands of these despicable creatures, but they will answer to what they have done to my son. Aldeon and Feren have been directed to soak the ground with the blood of those vile beings that have harmed their brother. I have no doubt that they will do so."

Thranduil regarded his son. "I too regret not being able to partake in that blood bath, but we are needed here, Tavaro. Aldeon fears that the Easterlings may launch an attack on our stronghold should I not give into their demands. We must prepare for the worst."

"Our people have not yet recovered from the last orc attack, and yet they must now face a threat from Men," Tavaro said bitterly.

"Mirkwood has survived many threats in the past, and it will do so again," Thranduil said with cold grimness.

"Mirkwood may survive, but will Legolas?" Tavaro asked.

Thranduil flinched as if the words were a physical blow. He stared at the familiar tunic in his hands, feeling his heart break into a thousand pieces as his trembling hands fingered each stain of rusted crimson, each bloody tear in the once soft leather. Forgive me, my son. Were that you are not the son of a king. Forgive me, Legolas.

****

"The tracks are leading us back to the way of the settlement," Feren said, frowning, as he studied at the line of trees looming before them. He looked at his older brother. "Should we continue to follow them?"

"We have little else to go on. We will follow them for a while yet, and if they come to naught, then we should split into two groups so that we can cover more area. We should send forth scouts to check out the path ahead. I do not think it wise for all of us to ride into the woods together. It may be a trap," Aldeon said.

Feren nodded and dispatched two of the warriors. In anxious silence, they waited, watchful eyes scanning for any sign of danger or threat. Sooner than expected, a shrill whistle reached their ears, signaling clearance.

Aldeon and Feren urged their horses forward, followed closely by the others. The scene that greeted them was not one that they had expected to see. The bodies of three elves laid strewn in pools of congealing blood that stained the forest ground a dark rustic red. Another elf crouched by the bodies, a knife held close to his throat, wielded by one of the two scouts sent by Feren. The other warrior stood by warily, his weapon drawn.

For a moment, Aldeon thought his heart had stopped until he realized that none of the dead had golden hair. He watched, his heart pounding still in reaction, as Feren turned one of the limp bodies over with a shaking hand, and knew that he had not been alone in his initial breathtaking fear.

"What happened here?" Feren asked after studying all three bodies.

"We found him by the bodies. He has not spoken," the elf who was wielding the knife answered.

Feren approached the crouching elf. "Manveru, what happened? Ambartur lies there dead with two others. Who are they? How did they die?"

"Manveru?" Aldeon repeated. "And Ambartur?"

Feren nodded grimly. "Yes, we have found our traitors. Where is our brother, Manveru? What have you done with him? Answer me!"

"They are dead! They are all dead! My brother and nephews. They killed them all!" the elf said brokenly, suddenly breaking into a torrent of wild sobbing. "What will I tell Adar?"

Feren grabbed him by the tunic and shook him with bone-rattling force. "Speak sense! Who else is dead? Is Legolas dead? Where is my brother? Answer me before I end your miserable life!"

"They are dead. We gave them the prince. Why did they kill them? Why?" The distraught elf paid him no attention as he continued to weep, heedless of all else around him.

Aldeon stepped forward and touched his brother's shoulder lightly. "Allow me, Feren."

Feren shoved the sobbing elf away with disgust, and the latter crumbled to his knees like a rag doll.

"Manveru, the Easterlings have killed your brother and your nephews. Tell us where these Men are and we will avenge their deaths," Aldeon forced himself to speak calmly, though he too desperately wanted to shake the elf before him for information of Legolas.

"Avenge their deaths?" Manveru looked at him blankly through tearful eyes.

"Yes, lead us to the Men and we will avenge the deaths of your brother and nephews. Tell me, do they have my brother?"

"Ambartur was to deliver your brother to the Men in exchange for my nephew, Merimon." The elf looked down at one of the still forms and his breath caught on a sob.

"Then the Men must already have Legolas. Where are they holding him?"

Manveru shook his head in misery. "I do not know. Once he delivered the young prince to them, Ambartur was to ask for aid from the Men to free our settlement from your hold."

"Free the settlement from our hold with the aid of Men?" Feren asked incredulously, feeling a nameless rage washing over him. Angry murmurs broke out also among the warriors as they too reacted with fury to the near blasphemous words.

Aldeon looked at the tearful elf with total disdain. "It would appear that the Men had no intention of freeing your settlement. They were too occupied killing the very people who had requested their aid. Do you then still place your trust in these Men? Or will you now lead us to them?"

Manveru stared at the bodies before him, his fists balling. "Yes, I will lead you to them. They will be heading east, taking your brother back to their stronghold." He looked up at Aldeon. "I will lead you to them, on the condition that I am allowed to spill their blood as they have spilled the blood of my loved ones."

Feren spoke up, his voice cold and hard. "You are hardly in the position to demand conditions. You will do as you are told or I will tie you to a tree and leave you here, to deal with once my brother has been found."

"I care not what you do to me so long as you allow me to avenge their deaths first," Manveru said determinedly. "I have no more to lose."

Feren eyed him coldly and nodded to the nearest warrior "Tie him up firmly and set him on a horse. We must be on our way, quickly!"

"What about my brother and nephews?" Manveru asked frantically.

"We cannot take them with us. They are beyond our help now. We will deal with them when we have rescued my brother, and you better pray that Legolas has not been harmed, or worse, killed or you will be the first to follow him in death. Now lead us to the Men." Feren then turned to his troops. "Keep a close watch on him. If he attempts anything foolish, bring him down, but do not kill him."

As it turned out, the tracks left by the departing Men were many and all too clear to follow, and Aldeon and Feren were thankful that they would not have to rely solely on Manveru in locating the humans. Once again, scouts were sent ahead to ensure that the tracks would not lead them into a trap. It was not long before the Men were sighted, trudging their way noisily through the woods, completely unaware of the watchful eyes that followed their every move from amidst leaves and branches. Satisfied with what they have learned, the two scouts retreated noiselessly from their perch and made their way back swiftly to report their findings to their commander.

"How many are there?" Feren asked.

"Thirty at the most. Their leader was urging them to move quickly so as to reach the main camp before dark."

"These must be the Men who killed Ambartur and my nephews," Manveru cried. "We must get to them before they reach camp. Untie me at once and let us move out!"

Feren looked at him icily. "We will not move out until I give the order. You will remain tied to the horse until such time that I feel it appropriate to release you to fight. These Men are not to be touched at this time. They will lead us to the main camp where I hope we will find Legolas. If you raise any alarm at all and jeopardize our chances of rescuing my brother, I will personally put an end to your miserable life in the most painful way possible."

Feren then turned to four of his waiting warriors. "I want you to follow these Men to seek out the location of their main camp. Study the camp carefully, take count of the number of humans, the location of trees from where we can attack, and possible escape routes, but above all, ascertain whether Legolas is being held there. As soon as you have completed your surveillance, return here immediately and we will plan our attack accordingly."

Having received their orders, the four warriors saluted and disappeared quickly into the trees. Then the anxious waiting began. For the first time in days, Aldeon and Feren dared to hope that their long pursuit might at last be coming to an end. Mingled with that hope, however, was also the unspoken fear that their brother may not be at the camp, or worse, may no longer be alive. To be thrown so suddenly into such inaction, in the wake of hard pursuit, was more trying than either of the princes could imagine. And yet, there was naught that they could do but to await with forced patience for the return of the scouts and their report.

In the end, the scouts did return bringing with them the news that the main camp was no more than an hour away.

"And Legolas, did you catch sight of him?" Aldeon asked anxiously.

"I am sorry, my lord, but we could see little beyond the peripherals of the camp as we dared not alert them to our presence. We did not see the young prince. It is likely that he is being held deep inside the camp," one the scouts answered.

"And the number of Men?" Feren asked.

"It is a large camp and there are many humans. I would guess the number to be close to one hundred, if not more. But the camp set in a large clearing surrounded by trees from which we can launch our attack."

Feren frowned. "We will be greatly outnumbered. We will attack at night, when we will be aided by the darkness. We will be able to see the enemies whereas they will have difficulty sighting us. Aldeon, I want you to go into the camp to search for Legolas. It is imperative that he is found before the Men are alerted to our presence. I will send two warriors with you and we will hold off our attack until you have found him."

Aldeon nodded. Though he was the elder of the two, Feren was the commander of the troops and he felt no slight in taking orders from his younger brother. "I will signal to you once I have located Legolas. Give me time to get beyond the clearing before you launch your attack." Aldeon did not want to consider the consequences should he fail to locate his brother.

"We will hold off for as long as we can, though should the alarm be raised, we will protect your retreat with our arrows. Leave all fighting to us. The most important thing for you to do is to get Legolas away."

"If I find him, I will get him away. You can be certain of that." He regarded his brother and added quietly. "Feren, show the humans no mercy."

Feren nodded. "I do not intend to. By the Valar, I do not intend to."

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer

Ch. 10 - The Rescue

Aldeon silently made his way around the perimeters of the Men camp, his eyes steadily searching for any sign of his captive brother. Much of the camp was bathed in darkness, broken only by the occasional fire around which the humans huddled closely in sleep. A few remained awake, warming their hands over the blaze, chatting intermittently amongst themselves.

The guards that were patrolling the peripheral areas of the camp were disposed of quickly and silently. Having completed the initial surveillance without catching sight of the captive prince, Aldeon gave the signal to continue their search within the confines of the camp itself. The three elves flitted stealthily from shadow to shadow, unnoticed by the wakeful few who remained totally oblivious not only to the three intruders, but also to the elvish warriors who were now hidden among the trees that surrounded their camp, bows readied to deliver death.

Though his heart pounded furiously, Aldeon forced himself to move slowly and with the utmost caution, his eyes sweeping methodically into each corner of the camp, looking always for the telltale sign of his brother's golden head. Each passing moment seemed an eternity and Aldeon found himself forcing back fears that perhaps his brother was not among these Men after all. Just as his heart was nearing complete despair, a glint of gold caught his sharp eyes, causing his breath to hitch painfully. He pressed himself deeper into the shadows and signalled to the other two.

At the first sight of his brother, Aldeon had to bite down hard to prevent the cry that threatened to escape from his throat. Fear and joy washed through him in dizzying waves, and it took all his efforts not to rush forward to sweep that huddled figure into his arms. He had at last found his brother!

Legolas sat hunched against the trunk of a tree, his hands and feet bound tightly. A rope had been threaded through his bound hands and looped to an overhanging branch, pulling his arms above his head. His head slumped forward limply, his face hidden by the fall of tangled golden hair. Nearby, two humans huddled around a small fire, glancing at the bound elf from time to time. One held his sword loosely in his grip, the other had his on the ground within easy reach.

The three elves moved in closer and Aldeon reached down and drew the dagger from his boot. The other two followed suit. Drawing in a sharp breath, Aldeon threw the dagger, and the sharp missile caught one of the Men deep in the throat. Almost simultaneously, another dagger glinted through the night air, catching the second Man in the chest. Both fell over without a sound. Even before their bodies hit the ground, Aldeon sprang forward, followed closely by the other two warriors.

With a flash of his knife, Aldeon cut the rope that held his brother to the tree and scooped the limp form into his arms in one fluid movement. While the other warrior quickly sliced through the bonds that held the young prince's hands and feet, Aldeon allowed himself one brief look at the bruised face, to ensure that it was indeed Legolas that he now held in his arms. Then they ran for the trees. A cry rang out behind them. The alarm had been raised.

Aldeon let out a shrill whistle of his own as he sprinted forward. The other two warriors flanked him closely, sweeping their knives in deathly arcs, driving back the Men who seemed to be swarming upon them from all sides. Then the air was suddenly filled with the whizzing of arrows and cries of human pain and death as these lethal projectiles found their targets.

Even before they reached the relative safety of the trees, elves were dropping onto the ground from their arboreal perches, weapons drawn to inflict what damage they could upon the Easterlings. Aldeon dodged amongst them, intent only upon getting his precious burden as far away as possible from the Men camp. Only upon reaching the wooded grounds did he slow down a little so as to avoid the danger of snagging branches and upraised roots. The other two elves followed closely, their weapons at ready to bring down any perceived or real threats to the two princes.

It was not until they were deep into the woods did they at last slow down. With adrenaline ebbing from his body now that the imminent danger had abated, Aldeon found himself gasping painfully for breath and his muscles burned from the recent exertion, compounded by the exhaustion of the desperate pursuit of the past days. Caught by an unseen root, he nearly stumbled and one of the warriors reached out with a supporting hand.

"Allow me to take the young prince for a while, my lord," the elf offered.

"No!" Aldeon drew back, tightening his hold protectively over his brother. It was absurd, he knew, for the other wished no more than to help, but Aldeon was loath to let anyone take his brother from him at the moment, regardless of his intentions. He had feared for so long that he would never again hold Legolas in his arms that even now, if not for the blessed warmth of the limp body against him, he would still be in doubt of the reality of the rescue and its success. "No, I can carry him."

"Is he hurt? His eyes are closed," the other pointed out tentatively.

Aldeon felt his heart lurched and immediately cursed himself for failing to check his brother for injuries until being so reminded. He stopped and crouched down onto the ground, cradling the limp form over his upraised knee. With a shaky hand, he reached for his brother's throat and closed his eyes in momentary relief when he felt the light pulse racing under his sensitive fingers. He ran his eyes over Legolas' inert body, grimacing as he took in the tattered undertunic, marked by streaks and patches of what could only be blood. He could also sense the unnatural heat that was radiating from his brother, deepening his growing concerns and fears.

"He is not well, but we cannot attend to his hurts here. We must head back to where we will meet the others," Aldeon said. Once more, he gathered his arms around his brother and straightened. Stoically, he made his way forward, forcing himself not to think of Legolas' injuries, or of the battle that was now being waged by Feren on the Men who had taken their young brother prisoner. Legolas was alive and safe in his arms and for the moment, that was enough.

The trek through the woods seemed to take an eternity though in reality they reached, in just over an hour, the small clearing where they had gathered and waited the previous day before launching their attack and rescue. Somehow, Aldeon managed to maintain his hold on Legolas as he trudged forward, but upon reaching the clearing, he fairly sagged to the ground in exhaustion, hugging his brother close even as he slumped back against the nearest tree. One of the other elves immediately sought out the packs on the horses and brought them forward along with a skin of water.

"My lord," he held out the water to Aldeon.

"Thank you." Aldeon nodded appreciatively. Ignoring his own burning thirst, he painstakingly trickled a few drops into Legolas' mouth, massaging gently the unresponsive throat until the water was swallowed reflexively. He continued patiently until he was satisfied that his brother had taken enough of the precious liquid before taking a long cool drink himself.

There was a slight stirring in his arms and Aldeon looked down quickly.

"Legolas?" he called out hopefully, pushing back a strand of hair, stained with blood and dirt, from his brother's bruised face. "Legolas, it is Aldeon. Can you hear me?"

The fine brows drew together painfully and a small moan escaped from the split lips. The thick lashes fluttered, followed by another moan. Aldeon placed a gentle hand on his brother's face, and lightly stroke the skin where it was not discoloured by bruises. "Legolas, awaken, please."

As if Aldeon's words had somehow found their way through his muddled senses, Legolas opened his eyes a fraction, and gazed without recognition at the face above him.

"Legolas? It is Aldeon," the older elf prompted gently.

A tremour shook Legolas' body. "Aldeon?"

"Yes, little one, I am here. You are safe now." Unconsciously, Aldeon tightened his hold on the younger elf.

Legolas cried out weakly. "Hurts."

"I am sorry, Legolas. Tell me where you hurt," Aldeon said quickly.

His brother's eyes closed once more as he let out another moan. "Hurts."

Aldeon began to ease his brother onto the ground so that he could check for injuries. Instantly, Legolas' eyes flew open and his hand grasped his brother's tunic in a near death-grip. "No, do not leave me! Please do not leave me!"

"I need to check your injuries, Legolas. I am not leaving you," Aldeon said soothingly.

His brother's grip tightened on his tunic as he trembled uncontrollably. "No, do not leave me."

There was so much desperation and fear in the weak voice that Aldeon ceased all movement to ease the young elf to the ground. "It is all right, I am not leaving. I am right here, Legolas. I will not leave you. You are safe. You are safe, little one."

In spite of his soothing words, Legolas continued to shake and refused to release his hold on his brother's tunic. As gently as he could, Aldeon pulled him closer into his arms, hoping to warm the other with his own body heat.

"My lord."

Aldeon looked up and saw one of the warriors holding out a cloak. "For the young prince."

Aldeon nodded gratefully as the other elf tucked the warm wool around his brother's trembling body. "Thank you."

"Should I start a fire, my lord?"

"Yes, we will need hot water to tend to his wounds."

The other elf nodded. I will get ready the bandages and herbs." Glancing briefly at Legolas, he added, in a quieter voice. "Perhaps a sleeping draught as well for the young prince?"

Aldeon nodded, grateful for the other's thoughtfulness and concern. He turned his attention once again to his brother. Legolas' eyes had closed again, but tremours continued to run through his body, and one hand maintained its grip on his older brother's tunic. Aldeon shifted slightly and instantly, Legolas' eyes flew open.

"No, do not leave!"

Aldeon leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "I am not leaving. I am right here. You are safe, Legolas. I will not let anyone else harm you, I promise."

Legolas' body relaxed fractionally and he once more closed his eyes. Aldeon brushed his lips lightly across his brother's forehead, feeling the heated skin under his lips. With growing apprehension, he wondered what trauma and hurt had befallen his young brother to cause such fear to grip him. Aldeon felt anger searing in him again and wished, not for the first time, that he too could personally wreak his vengeance upon the Men who had so harmed his brother, as Feren was no doubt doing now. He could only hope that Feren would carry through with his promise that no mercy would be shown to those despicable creatures that had held his brother prisoner.

Aldeon gently eased his brother onto the cloak that was spread upon the ground. Legolas had at last fallen into a deep sleep, brought on by the tea that Aldeon had managed to coax down his throat. He looked down at his sleeping brother, grimacing as the early morning light began to reveal more and more the extent of Legolas' injuries. Pursing his lips in grim resolve, he reached down and began to cut away his brother's bloodied and tattered undertunic, hissing in sympathetic pain as the colourful bruises came into view. More distressing, however, was the wound inflicted by the orc arrow so many weeks ago. It had reopened and had bled freely, as evidenced by the stained tunic and leggings. Even now, traces of blood seeped still from the jagged edges of the reddened and raw wound. With infinite gentleness, he bathed and dressed the festering wound with what herbs that were available. It was a temporary measure, and Aldeon hoped that it was sufficient until he could get his brother into Kala's experienced care.

Suddenly, he became aware of the other two warriors standing protectively above him, weapons drawn. His keen ears picked up what the other two must have already heard, the sounds of ones approaching. He straightened, his hands gripping his knives.

"My lord, look after the young prince. We will hold them off, should they be foes," one of the warriors said.

Aldeon nodded. "Hopefully, it will be Lord Feren and the returning troops."

As it turned out, the ones approaching were the returning troops. As the warriors began to filter out among the trees, Aldeon released the breath that he had not realized he had been holding. Instinctively, his eyes searched for Feren, and came upon his brother's equally searching gaze almost immediately. In a flash, Feren was at his side and the two brothers embraced briefly.

"You are well, Feren?" Aldeon asked.

"Yes, how is he?" Feren had already dropped to his knees by Legolas' inert form.

"He has many injuries. I was just tending to them. How went the battle?"

Feren reached out and touched the bruised cheek. "He has fever."

"His wound has reopened. How fared our warriors? Did we suffer losses?"

Feren looked up, frowning. "We lost two of our warriors, and Manveru as well. There are scores of injuries, but none, I believe, are life threatening."

"And the Men?"

"A few escaped. That was my intention. I want them to return to whoever is at the root of this evil scheme with the message that Mirkwood stands for no transgression such as this. For what they have done, they will pay for with blood and death. I also sent a warning that they may see Mirkwood warriors battering at the door of their stronghold should we choose to seek such vengeance."

Aldeon nodded. "You did well. Adar will approve of such strong warnings. It will not surprise me at all if Adar does decide on such a course of action. A messenger should be sent immediately to Adar with the news that Legolas is now safe. I cannot imagine how he has fared these few days."

"No better than us, I imagine. I will dispatch a warrior with the message," Feren said, straightening with unmasked weariness. "I will be back as soon as I can to help you tend to Legolas."

Aldeon turned his attention back to his youngest brother. Gently, he rolled the unresponsive form to his side in an effort to remove the remaining tatters of the tunic. At the first sight of his brother's back, all breath left him.

"Dear Elbereth, what did they do to you?" he gasped, feeling the nameless pain constrict his throat, and breathing became an all but impossible task. He closed his eyes momentarily, unable to take in the further sight of the torn and lacerated back where welt laid upon welt, bruised and bloody against the once flawless skin. He nearly wept then.

From beside him was a similar breathless gasp and he glanced over to see the same stricken look on Feren's face that must surely mirror the one on his own.

"I had not known the extent of the injuries to his back," Aldeon said almost apologetically, thinking with guilt how Legolas had moaned and shook in his arms earlier. He could not imagine the pain that he had so unwittingly inflicted upon his brother.

"I am only thankful I had the opportunity to personally deliver death to the Easterlings," Feren said through clenched teeth. "I only regret that their death was swift and that they did not feel the same pain that they had put my brother through." He took in a ragged breath, ruthlessly reining in his seething anger. "Come, Aldeon, we need to clean and dress his back before he wakes. And then, we will take our brother home to Adar."

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 11 At the Settlement

With the wounded among them, it was decided that a brief sojourn at the settlement would be a more pragmatic option than to journey directly back to the palace. There was also the issue of the settlement elders and the fate of the settlement elves themselves. Thranduil had ordered that the elders be brought back to the palace to answer to justice, but no decision had been made as yet concerning the elves at the settlement. Aldeon had suggested, and Feren had concurred, that a detachment of troops should remain stationed at the settlement until such time that their fate was decided by the King. The remaining troops, once rested, would return to the palace, bringing with them the prisoners and the King's youngest son.

It was late afternoon when the weary warriors rode into the settlement, bearing the wounded and the bodies of six elves. For four of these elves, this was their last journey to the place where they had been born and lived. It was not the homecoming that had been anticipated, and sullen eyes followed the procession in muted silence, the air thick with grief, resignation and at times, stark hostility. Regardless of the decision of the King, this settlement was already lost to him.

The two brothers made their way silently to where the elders of the settlement were held under guard. Their task ahead was not to be a pleasant one. How was one to tell a father that his sons were now dead, and that his two remaining grandsons were no longer among the living? However much disdain they may hold for Yulion, neither Aldeon nor Feren could find comfort in the fact Yulion was about to receive the greatest punishment that was possible for his traitorous dealings with the Easterlings. To lose a loved one was to lose a part of one's soul, the pain forever etched into the heart, perhaps fading over time, but never forgotten. Aldeon and Feren had known such pain when their naneth was so brutally taken from the world of living, and had to nearly endure it again in recent weeks when fate had threatened twice to take their young brother away as well. Thus, it was with heavy hearts that they entered the cottage where the elders were held.

Their entrance barely merited a glance from the five elves, who continued to speak quietly amongst themselves as if they had not been interrupted at all. Though the two brothers were not ones to expect preferential treatment due to them as the deemed heir of the King and the commander of the King's troops, neither were they accustomed to such blatant discourtesy from their own kind.

In as neutral a voice as he could manage, Aldeon spoke up. "Yulion, we have news for you."

"Unless it concerns my sons, I do not need to hear anything from you," the older elf said coolly.

"It concerns your sons, and grandsons. They are dead."

The other elf instantly sprang to his feet with a nimbleness that belied his years. "You lie!"

"I do not," Aldeon said firmly. "Their bodies lie outside. My men are preparing the funeral pyres even as we speak."

'"You have killed them!" The older elf made a move as to lunge forward.

Feren stepped in quickly. "You will stay where you are or I will be forced to call in the guards to restrain you. We have not killed your sons. Their deaths were brought on by the Easterlings, the same Men with whom you have conspired to bring down Mirkwood."

"I do not believe you! The Men would not have killed my sons and my grandsons! This is a lie that you have concocted in order to turn us against them. The humans would not disrupt the peaceful harmony that has developed over the years between us. You have killed my sons and grandsons and you try now to place the blame on them."

"Ambartur and your two grandsons were killed by the very Men from whom they had requested aid. Your other son, Manveru, was killed by the humans when we broke into the Easterlings' camp to rescue my brother and to avenge the deaths of your son and grandsons," Aldeon said, anger edging his voice.

"No! Why should I believe a word that you say? You have condemned us all as traitors and no doubt it will please you to see the destruction of this settlement."

"You old fool!" Feren said with unrestrained exasperation. "You need not believe our words, but you can go see for yourself the wounds that have killed your sons and grandsons and determine whether they are wounds inflicted by elven weapons or those of Men. Can you not see even now how your collusion with Men has brought nothing but death and pain? Can you not see how your twisted aspiration to bring down the King with the aid of Men has robbed you of all that you hold dear to your heart?"

The older elf stiffened at the words. "I will see my sons and grandsons."

"Very well. You will be allowed to preside over the funeral of your loved ones, but you will remain under guard at all times. Because of what you and your sons have done, two of my warriors are now dead. The other warriors do not look kindly upon the death of their comrades. Do not give them the excuse to cause you harm, for they will not hesitate to bring you down should you try anything foolish." Feren eyed the older elf coldly.

He turned and led the way out, followed by the five elders, while Aldeon brought up the rear. Outside, they were joined by the two guards who had been posted at the door. In silence, the group made their way toward the four blanketed bundles that laid in the shadow of the funeral pyres. The settlement elves had gathered loosely in the central clearing, watching the procession pass through in impassive silence.

Upon his first sight of the still forms of his loved ones, with the light of life forever smothered from their eyes, Yulion's arrogance at last broke. He crumpled to the ground like a broken doll, his shaking hands touching each lifeless body in turn as tears spilled heedlessly down whitened cheeks. The other four elves knelt as well, and bowed their heads in wordless grief. From behind, the former impassivity of the settlement elves was broken now and then by small sounds of anguish.

Aldeon let out an inaudible sigh and glanced at his brother, seeing a mirror of his own mixed emotions on the latter's face. The anger was certainly still very much at the forefront, yet there was also unmistakable sorrow over such a futile loss of immortal lives. Had the Shadow gained so much ground that elves were now pitted against their own kind? How deep was this poison that it should nullify the bond of trust that once united the elves of the woodland kingdom? Aldeon realized that he feared the answers as much as the questions themselves.

The flames ignited and leapt high into the night sky. A lone elvish voice rose in a haunting and melancholic strain, bidding the departing souls a final farewell. Fathers and sons were not to meet again in this world.

Feren nodded briefly at his second in command who quickly eased his way to his side.
"Lord Aldeon and I must tend to our brother. Ensure that the elders are taken back and kept under guard. Increase the patrol for the night. I do not anticipate trouble, but one cannot be certain after a funeral such as this. Tell the men to be on guard. I do not want more blood to spill this night, or at all."

The warrior nodded solemnly. "I will ensure that this night passes peacefully."

"Alert Lord Aldeon and myself should there be the first sign of trouble." Feren acknowledged the parting salute and turned to touch his brother briefly on the shoulder. "We should return to Legolas."

Aldeon cast one more look at the still burning pyres before following his brother from the central clearing. There had been far too many such burnings in recent memory. There was a time that such a sight was unseen within these woods, when immortality had been untouchable. Those times were now an eternity away.

****
"How is he?" Aldeon asked as he stared down at the pale form of his brother with a frown. Legolas laid on his side, bared except for a sheet pulled up to his slim hips. His back had been too raw to withstand any type of covering. At least his bandaged side showed no more signs of seepage.

"The fever makes him restless, but he has not awaken," Hesin answered. "Perhaps we should send for the healer."

Feren shook his head. "No, I do not trust the elves of this settlement. We will have to tend to him the best that we can."

"Lord Feren is right," Aldeon concurred. "We are not welcomed here. I will not have him exposed to undue risk." He turned to the other warrior. "Thank you, Hesin, for caring for him. We will tend to him now. Go and rest."

"I can assist still," Hesin protested.

Aldeon grasped his shoulder briefly. "You have ridden with little rest the past days. Go, your weariness shows."

"Yours too, my lord," Hesin pointed out.

Aldeon looked down at the prone form of his young brother and shook his head. "I am fine. Go and join the others who are resting now."

Reluctantly Hesin left. Aldeon reached forward and touched Legolas' face gently.

"Hesin is right, you know. You do look weary, Aldeon. Go and rest. I will tend to Legolas," Feren spoke up gently.

"I am tired, but I do not think that I can sleep. We need to put more salve on his back."

"I will do it. You keep a hand on him in case he moves," Feren said as he settled onto the bed behind his brother. Pursing his lips into a hard line, he began to apply the healing salve onto the torn back, keeping his touch as light as a moth's. Some of the welts were already beginning to close, but the deeper ones continued to seep traces of blood and looked painful beyond words. He felt anger welling within him once more at the mindless cruelty behind such a whipping. He wondered what other barbarity had been inflicted on his brother while he was held captive of the Easterlings.

Under his gentle ministrations, Legolas moaned and shifted fractionally. Feren stopped immediately, in fear of causing further pain to his brother.

"Legolas?" Aldeon called out softly, as he stroked the golden hair that was now cleansed of blood and combed free of tangles. "Legolas, can you hear me?"

Legolas moaned again and the thick lashes fluttered open. "Aldeon?"

"Yes, and Feren too. How do you feel?"

Legolas closed his eyes. "Hurts."

"Can you lift up a bit and drink some water?" Aldeon eased a hand under his brother's neck and raised him gently. Legolas' brows creased in pain as he was moved, but drank the water that Aldeon held out to him.

Feren made his way to the front of the bed and knelt down. "Hello, Legolas, you have given us quite a scare."

Suddenly, the blue eyes sprang open and Legolas looked about him frantically. "The Men--"

Aldeon quickly took hold of one of his hands and held it tightly while the other continued to stroke the bright head. "It is all right, Legolas. You are safe. The Men have been disposed of and can no longer harm you. You are safe now."

"Where are we?" Legolas asked, the fear not yet completely gone from his face.

"We are at the settlement,"

"Settlement?"

Aldeon glanced briefly at Feren before answering. "The elves who took you were from this settlement."

"Ambartur and Meldon?" A tremble went through Legolas' slender frame. "Are they here too?"

Aldeon shook his head. "They are dead. The Men killed them."

The shock, for all Legolas' weakness, was palpable. "Killed them? And the other elf, the one that I was -- exchanged for?"

"He is dead as well, also killed by the Men."

"Killed? I thought the Men were to help them?"

"No, the Men never intended to help them. They were used, and then discarded when their usefulness ran its course." Aldeon could feel the trembles running through his young brother's body. "Think of it no more, Legolas. You are safe now and that is all that matters. Once you are rested, we will go home to Adar."

"When? Tomorrow?"

Aldeon shook his head. "Your injuries are many, and you burn with fever still. We should stay here until you are stronger. Travel in your state now will not be wise."

Legolas shook his head weakly. "No, I want to leave tomorrow. I do not wish to stay here any longer. I want to go home."

Aldeon touched the heated skin of his face gently. "We will leave as soon as you are stronger. I have sent word to Adar. He knows you are safe with us."

"Please, Aldeon. I do not want to stay here. I can travel, truly I can," Legolas pleaded, the weak voice edged with fear.

Aldeon glanced at Feren, who gave a slight shrug of the shoulders. Aldeon turned his eyes back to his younger brother, feeling his heart tightened at the unmasked fear that marred the young features. It had always been difficult to say no to Legolas.

"All right, we will leave tomorrow. Our journey will be slow and you will let us know if it becomes too difficult for you."

Legolas closed his eyes in weariness. "Thank you, Aldeon."

Aldeon bent down and kissed the feverish forehead. "Sleep, Legolas."

The hot fingers tightened their grip fractionally. "Do not leave me."

"We will both be here when you awake." Aldeon caressed the bruised cheek gently. "You are safe, Legolas."

Feren sat back onto a chair, a frown marring his handsome features as he stared at his now sleeping brother. "I have never seen him show so much fear."

Aldeon let out a long breath and shifted his position slightly on the bed, his hand still imprisoned by his young brother even in sleep. "He has been like this since we rescued him from the Men camp. The first time he awoke, it was even more heart-rending. I cannot imagine what he has gone through these past days."

Feren narrowed his eyes. "I only wish that I did not kill the humans so quickly. They did not deserve such a swift death."

Aldeon threw him a glance and leaned back wearily against the wall. "I wish I had the opportunity to spill their blood, as you did."

The two brothers looked at each other and a reluctant smile broke across their tired faces.

"If Tavaro was here, he would sure to say that such blood thirst does not become Mirkwood Royalty," Aldeon said, feeling a measure of cheer for the first time in many days.

"If Tavaro was here, he would be chasing after the few that I had allowed to escape to spill more blood," Feren said dryly. "And Adar would be right along side of him."

Aldeon raised one brow. "Adar may very well do that yet. We should both rest if we are to move out tomorrow. I must admit, I too want nothing more than to return home."

Feren nodded in acquiesce. "I feel the same way. These have been trying days."

"I fear that more await us. The evils of the Shadow are relentless."

Feren frowned. "We will hold them back. Our warriors too are relentless. Mirkwood will not fall."

Aldeon smiled tiredly, hoping with all his heart that his brother's words would hold true and that the time of the woodland elves was not nearing an end.

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 12 The Journey Home

Aldeon stared at the impassive faces before him, searching in vain for the slightest hint of warmth or acceptance. A stone wall would have made a better audience than these elves. Regardless of their cold apathy, he would have to speak to them, as a representative of the King.

"Many, if not all of you, are aware of the events of the past days and the implications upon this settlement. Your elders have admitted to acts of treason and betrayal against the King and will be brought back to the King to answer to such acts. Ambartur, Manveru, Meldon and Merimon have all been killed by the very Men that the elders were in conspiracy with. The folly of their decision in enlisting the aid of Men to bring down the King is now all too evident. What have you gained, other than death and an uncertain future for this settlement?" Aldeon regarded them coldly. "Let me assure you that the Easterlings had no intention at all to share Mirkwood with anyone. They wanted it for their own and had they gained control of our woodland realm, they would not tolerate the existence of elves, regardless of past promises made."

"They have aided us in the past, long before all this took place," an elf standing at the forefront of the group spoke up. "You cannot paint all Men as evil."

Aldeon regarded him with icy eyes. "No, perhaps not all Men are evil, but this particular group of Easterlings that your elders have been colluding with are evil personified. They have murdered Ambartur, Meldon and Merimon in cold blood. They held my own brother in brutal captivity while they used him as leverage to force the King's acquiescence to their demands. I have no doubt in my mind that had our warriors not stopped them, their annihilation of this settlement would be a certainty. The murder of Ambartur and his sons was meant as a warning to you all."

"And now, you will leave and abandon us to our fate, just as you have done in the past," the same elf spoke, bitterness ringing in his voice.

"Some of our warriors will remain and keep watch over the settlement. As to the fate of the settlement itself, it is the King's decision to make. However, I should warn you that the King does not look kindly upon those who seek to bring his downfall, especially if his own son is harmed in the course of such treachery."

"Yulion and the others had control of the affairs of this settlement," another elf spoke up. "We had no choice but to follow the path that they direct."

"Surely you can distinguish for yourself between right and wrong. Would you so blindly follow what your heart says is wrong? Did you at all protest the decisions made by the elders?" Aldeon swept his eyes about him, meeting coldly all those who stared back. "By your blindness and silence to their deeds, you too must share in their guilt. The King would have provided the reasonable protection you needed had you but asked. Instead, you turned to Men for aid. The King did not abandon you, you have abandoned the King and will therefore suffer the consequences of your action." He paused briefly. "Once the King has made his decision, you will be advised of it. In the meantime, I suggest that you all cooperate with the warriors who remain behind. You do not need to make things more difficult for yourselves than they already are."

With these words, Aldeon turned on his heels and made his way to the cottage where his brothers were preparing for their journey home. He was relieved, though not surprised, at the lack of resistance from the settlement elves to their fate. It was as if the life force had already been drained from these elves, and death was simply a formality that had not yet taken place. Aldeon forced back a shudder at the bleak thought, and was secretly glad that it was his father, and not him, who would have to decide on the fate of these pitiable beings.

Back in the cottage, he found Feren coaxing a cup of tea into their young brother. The younger elf appeared dazed with fever and pain and Aldeon again questioned himself as to the wisdom of embarking on the journey home so soon. Legolas was dressed in a borrowed tunic and leggings, probably ones of Feren's as they fitted him loosely. Earlier, they had lightly bandaged his back so that the clothing would not rub against the still raw welts, though it was obvious that they were still causing sufficient pain to the young elf.

"How are you feeling, Legolas?" Aldeon asked.

"I am fine, but Feren is trying to put me to sleep again," Legolas said weakly, as he grimaced at the taste of the tea. "This is almost as bad as Kala's brew."

Aldeon smiled at him. "It is probably for the best. You will feel less discomfort if you remain asleep." He draped a cloak around his young brother's shoulder. "You will ride with me, little one. And I expect you to let me know when you feel we need to stop for a rest. We are in no hurry."

"Yes, Aldeon," Legolas said, his words already beginning to slur. The sleeping draught was taking its effect.

Aldeon scooped him gently into his arms. "Let us go home, Legolas."

*****

The messenger arrived in the dark hours of the night, and gauging the importance of the message, his personal servant decided to risk intruding upon the King in his sleep chamber.

Sleep did not come easily to Thranduil this night, or the nights previous, for that matter, as his mind churned endlessly with thoughts of his youngest child whose fate remained so heartbreakingly unknown. Two days without news, whether from his sons or from the Easterlings. Two days that had been longer than an eternity, during which unbidden fears continuously gnawed at the delicate tendrils of hope that he clung onto so desperately. When the knock sounded on his door, echoing menacingly in the silence of the night, Thranduil felt himself going cold with fear. Here was news then that he had so desperately waited for and yet now that it was here, a part of him wanted nothing more than to ignore the insistent knocks, to hide from the reality of whatever news that was being brought to him.

In the end, it took all his considerable power to give sound to his words, "Come in."

The door swung open quietly and his personal servant stepped inside, followed closely by a travel-stained warrior.

"My lord, he comes with message from Lord Feren. I thought it may be important."

"Thank you, Kale." Thranduil heard himself saying, as distant as if spoken by another person. "What news do you bring from Lord Feren?"

"They have found Prince Legolas and are bringing him home," the weary warrior said quickly.

"Legolas -- he is alive?" Thranduil could not control the tremour in his voice.

"Yes, my lord, he is alive, but he is wounded."

Thranduil closed his eyes, feeling lightheaded and weak with relief that was washing through him in waves. Legolas was alive! His child was alive!

"My lord," Kale said hesitantly, watching his liege's pale countenance with growing concern. "Are you well? Should I send for the healer?"

Thranduil opened his eyes and waved him away. "No, no, I am fine. Send for Lord Tavaro and bid him to come to my chamber immediately. Go!" Turning back to the warrior before him, he gestured to the nearest chair. "You are weary, sit down."

"My lord," the warrior hesitated. One did not sit before the King.

"That is an order," Thranduil said, though the tone of his voice belied his words. Legolas was alive!

"Thank you, my lord," the warrior acquiesced gratefully.

"You said Legolas was wounded. Are the wounds serious?" Thranduil asked, voicing the concern that was at the forefront of his thoughts.

"I believe his injuries are serious. Lord Feren bid me to tell you that Prince Legolas will be safe in their care. When I left, the young prince was unconscious and Lord Aldeon and Lord Feren were tending to him. I am sorry, my Lord. I did not stay long enough to find out the full extent of the prince's injuries."

"And the traitors?"

"They are dead, killed by the Easterlings themselves."

"And the Men who held my son hostage?"

"Most are dead, killed when we rescued the young prince. Lord Feren allowed a few to escape with their lives so that they can return to their own kind with news of their failure. Lord Feren will provide a more detailed report upon his return."

Thranduil stood up and the warrior quickly followed suit, nearly stumbling in his haste. Thranduil smiled and pressed a hand onto the other's shoulder. "You did well. Thank you for bringing me this news. You have ridden long and hard. You may give me the remainder of the news when you have rested. Go, for you have well earned your rest."

The warrior bowed deeply. "My heart is gladdened by the news I bring. There was not one among us who did not pray for the safe return of the young prince."

"Thank you. I am indebted to you all for the life of my son," Thranduil said, his voice unaccustomedly tight.

The warrior bowed again and turned to leave, just as Tavaro hurried into the room, half-dressed in his night robes. Ignoring the other's salute, the prince looked beseechingly at the King, unable to give voice to his fears.

"Legolas is alive, and Aldeon and Feren are bringing him home," Thranduil said quickly and drew his trembling son into a hard embrace.

The warrior slipped out and closed the door silently behind him, leaving the King and his son to their privacy.

His shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs, Tavaro clung tightly to his father. Thranduil himself could no longer blink back his own threatening tears, even as a smile, the first one in days, slowly graced the corners of his mouth. Legolas was alive!

With an effort, Tavaro brought himself under control. He pulled back from his father's arms, wiping his face unabashedly on the sleeves of his robe. At the sight of this, the King's smile grew wider. Then he too, put his robe to the same use in the most unkingly manner.

Father and son both laughed, and the burden that laid so heavily upon their hearts lifted at the joyous sound, a sound that had been so conspicuously absent in the past days within these palace walls.

"He is well and unharmed?" Tavaro asked.

The smile faded from Thranduil's face. "No, he is wounded, though the messenger knew not the full extent of his injuries. I am told that they are serious, though I do not believe they are life threatening or surely Feren would have said so. We will have to await their return to find out." Thranduil frowned thoughtfully. "No, I will wait no longer. I have waited an eternity already. I refuse to remain idle further. Tomorrow I shall ride out to meet them."

"And I with you, Adar," Tavaro said quickly.

"The palace will be left unattended should both of us take leave," Thranduil reminded. "The counselors and advisors will not be pleased with what they perceive to be irresponsible abdication of royal duty."

"On the other hand, they will be so dizzy with delight to have complete run of the place while we are absent that they will soon forget their displeasure," Tavaro said with a grin. "Adar, we will be gone but for two, perhaps three days. Surely chaos cannot set in in so brief a spell."

There was a pause and Thranduil nodded. "You are right. Our absence will be brief. We will both ride out at first light tomorrow."

"With your leave, Adar, I will go and make the necessary arrangements now. You should rest, Adar. You have not slept for days and look it."

"Your lack of rest is showing as well, my son," Thranduil said gently.

Tavaro smiled. "I will be fine, Adar. Besides, I am in the prime of my youth. I do not need rest as the aged do."

Thranduil shook his head, smiling. "Be gone with you, before I am tempted to leave you behind to keep company with the advisors and counselors as punishment."

****

"Legolas, you must take in more water," Aldeon urged as he held the water skin to his brother. The latter drank obediently, but pulled away after a few sips, closing his eyes in exhaustion and pain.

Aldeon frowned and handed the water skin to Feren who knelt by their side.

"He is not doing well," Feren said, more of a statement than question.

"No, he is not. His fever is higher, and his wounds continue to seep blood," Aldeon said as he shifted fractionally so that his young brother could rest more easily in his arms. "I am beginning to doubt the wisdom of travelling before he is ready. We will ride no further today. We need to light a fire for the air is cold and he is in no state to suffer further chills."

"We are but about two days from the palace. Perhaps a rider should be sent ahead to bring back the healer and a litter," Feren said thoughtfully.

Aldeon nodded, his face grim. "Perhaps we should have done that sooner, but I had not thought that the journey would be so difficult for him. Send out your fastest rider now, Feren."

There was a slight stirring in his arms and Aldeon looked down to see his brother's fever bright eyes peering at him.

"How do you feel, Legolas?" Aldeon asked, pulling the edges of his brother's cloak closer around the heated body.

"Are we close to home yet?" Legolas inquired instead.

"Two days' ride away, but a rider is being sent ahead to bring back the healer and a litter. Your wounds are not healing as they should."

"Do not worry so, Aldeon. I will be fine," Legolas said tiredly.

Aldeon smiled half-heartedly at his brother's assurance. With Legolas, there was always cause for worry. Instead of voicing his concerns, Aldeon asked, "Would you take some food, Legolas? You have eaten very little the past days."

"No, I feel no hunger. And please, no more sleeping draughts. I do not need to feel any more disoriented than I already do."

"But you are in pain," Aldeon protested.

"I can deal with the pain," Legolas said stubbornly despite of his weakness. He reached out and grasped his brother's hand. "I need to feel your presence, and the presence of the others." His voice faltered as it dropped to a mere whisper. "When I sleep, I dream that I am back there, held by the Men. I do not want to be alone again."

Aldeon's heart clenched with pain for his young brother. He leaned forward and brushed his lips over the hot brows. "You are safe with us now, Legolas. Feren and the warriors have killed those who have harmed you. They will not touch you again."

"I know, Aldeon, but the fear haunts me so," the younger elf said, a trace of shame edging the weakened voice.

Aldeon cupped his brother's face gently. "Legolas, there is no shame in feeling fear as you do. I too would have been consumed by fear had I been in your predicament, as would many of our warriors."

Before he could say further words to comfort his young brother, Aldeon's attention was drawn by a sudden commotion. Before he could react, several warriors had taken a protective stance around him, weapons drawn. Among them was Feren himself.

"What is happening?" Aldeon asked, his body tense and his hold on Legolas tightened fractionally.

"Someone approaches," Feren said, his eyes scanning the trees methodically. "In fact, more than one. Take care of Legolas."

Before any of them could move, a shrill whistle cut through the air and the warriors relaxed, marginally. It was a signal used by the Mirkwood warriors. In the next instant, several elves dropped from the trees, and more filtered out into the clearing. Feren immediately recognized them as members of Thranduil's own personal guards, an elite group that accompanied the King each time he left the confines of the palace walls. The newly arrived elves saluted the princes.

"My lords, the King and Lord Tavaro are here," one of the elves announced.

Feren lowered his weapon, and the other warriors followed suit. "The King is here?"

Even as he spoke, he saw his father and Tavaro broke through the trees, both dismounting even before their horses had come to a complete stop. Other mounted warriors followed closely.

Ignoring the surprised salutes of Feren and the other warriors, Thranduil made his way quickly to where Aldeon crouched still with Legolas in his arms.

"How is he?" Thranduil had no eyes for anyone else at the moment as he drank in the sight of his youngest. Mindless of the less than regal carriage that he was exhibiting, the King dropped to his knees and enfolded Legolas into his gentle arms.

"Legolas, my child, my heart," the King whispered as he kissed first the brows, then his son's fevered cheeks.

"Ada," Legolas said brokenly as he clutched at his father's tunic. The tears came unbidden and spilled freely. "Ada."

"Shh, hush, I am here, my son. I am here," Thranduil soothed as he kissed his child again, brushing away the other's tears, even as his own threatened to brim over. "Thank the Valar, you are safe." He buried his face into the fine golden hair, breathing in the scent of his son like one drowning and desperate for his next breath.

The elves looked on as their liege continued to cradle his son, whispering soft words of comfort that could only be heard by the one in his arms. More than one warrior had to blink back the unfamiliar warmth that stung their normally stoic eyes as they witnessed the tenderness so unabashedly displayed by their King for all to see.

****
Legolas was at last asleep in his father's arms, worn out by tears and his own body's weakness. The King had yet to relinquish his protective hold on his youngest from the moment of his arrival, and clearly had no intention of doing so in the foreseeable future. Tavaro hovered close by, contending himself with holding onto his brother's now unresponsive hand.

"Tell me what happened," Thranduil commanded of his two oldest sons as he continued to stroke the golden hair of the one in his arms.

And so Aldeon and Feren recounted the events of the past days as their father and other brother listened on intently, interrupting now and then with questions of their own. When they at last finished, they watched the King expectantly.

"You both did well," Thranduil said at last. "Your brother owes his life to both of you." He looked over to where Yulion and others were held under guard and his brows darkened ominously. Because of their foolishness and arrogance, he had nearly lost his child. It was not something that he could easily forgive and he had no intentions of doing so. It was regrettable that others who had so harmed his son were now dead and beyond the reach of the wrath of his vengeance.

He looked down once more at his sleeping son, whose face was marred still by fading bruises and lines of pain. He brushed his lips against the hot skin. Legolas was safe in his arms and he felt again the wave of gratitude and relief that swept through him like an intoxicating drug. Legolas was safe, and for the moment, it was all that mattered.

TBC

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer

Ch. 13 Home

Again Kala calmly regarded his liege, seemingly undisturbed in the least by the other's brusqueness of voice and manner. He has been a healer for more years than he cared to count, and knew that family members of the seriously injured or ill often forego niceties of manners when the well-being of their loved one was at stake. Thranduil, never known for his patience, could be particularly grating when one of his sons was injured, which unfortunately seemed to take place with disconcerting regularity.

And Legolas was near to having his own private supply of healing herbs marked and set aside, as well as a permanent bed in the healing room. Considering how protective the Royal Family was of this youngest son, it was rather astounding how the youngling had become quite the constant in Kala's healing practice over the years. It was not surprising then that the healer had always been able to handle the King with serene patience, something that he had gleaned from the countless years of dealing with Thranduil, the concerned father. He respected Thranduil the King, of course, and his ability to rule Mirkwood in such troubled times, but he respected Thranduil even more as a father. There was no doubt in Kala's mind that it required the skills and qualities of divine beings to survive the worries and heartaches so unwittingly caused by this one son. And thus far, Thranduil seemed to be surviving quite admirably, albeit the worry lines on the regal face seemed more prominent during particularly trying times.

"We should let him sleep now," Kala said, as he pulled a light blanket over his patient whose eyes had already closed.

"I am not leaving him," Thranduil said, setting himself firmly down onto the chair by the bed.

The healer arched a brow. "I do not expect you to, my lords." His gaze not only encompassed the King, but also the three brothers who hovered so protectively over the now still bed. "But I suggest that we refrain from further discussions until the sleeping draught has taken full effect."

Thranduil clamped his mouth shut, though the look that he gave the healer was not one of benevolence. He turned back to the bed, his expression softening instantly as his eyes swept over the still figure of his sleeping son, whose too pale features were tinged as yet with the flush of fever and whose body was swathed in bandages that cover its many hurts. His regal brows tightening into a frown, the King thought back to the events of the past two days, from the time that he was reunited with the son that he had feared to be lost to him forever.

Their slow journey back to the palace had been increasingly arduous on Legolas in his weakened condition. The fever had showed no signs of abatement and the pain from his injuries had tried Legolas almost beyond the young elf's endurance. It had tore Thranduil's heart to see his child to suffer so, and more than once, the temptation to expend his wrath on the captive elders had been so great that it took all of his stubborn will-power to refrain from carrying out what his heart so manically desired.

They had encountered Kala and his escorts soon upon their return journey. After a brief examination, it had been the healer's suggestion to return to the palace as quickly as possible where he would have his considerable supply of healing herbs at his disposal to deal with the young elf's many injuries. Legolas had stubbornly refused to be transferred to the litter, choosing instead to remain in his father's arms, despite the pain such a position no doubt inflicted. Though he had loathed the thought of Legolas having to endure any additional discomfort, Thranduil had also been reluctant to relinquish the physical hold on his son, the fear of nearly losing this child being too fresh still in the paternal mind. In the end, Kala had administered a brew to ease the young elf's pain so that both father and son could continue the journey in greater ease. They had quickened their pace. Though Kala had not opined on any dire prognosis, the concern in the knowledgeable eyes had not been lost on the King and his other sons.

They had reached the palace in the early hours of the day and Kala had been working on his young patient since, cleaning and bandaging the many hurts with poultices of his own creation while Thranduil and Legolas' brothers watched in close scrutiny. Finally, the healer had completed his ministrations with a tea that would ease the fever as well as put the patient into a deep healing sleep.

Thranduil pursed his lips tightly as he once again saw in his mind the welts that so viciously marked his son's back. Those despicable creatures had taken a whip to his son who, in his relatively short life, had rarely heard a voice raised in anger at him, let alone suffered any such form of brutal punishment. He could not even begin to imagine the fear and pain that Legolas must have endured, first being a captive of his own kind, and then as a hostage of Men. With an effort, Thranduil unclenched his hands, which he had unconsciously balled into white-knuckled fists, even as he mentally visited horrific torment upon those responsible for his son's current state, even though they were no longer in the world of living. The quick death that they had received was far too merciful for them, mercy that they had not shown to his child.

A part of him seethed with rage against the elves who had betrayed Mirkwood and the humans who had abused his child with such cold-bloodedness. But there was also anger directed at himself. Twice now, in so short a span of time, he had failed to protect this son whom he had sworn to safeguard against all harms that may befall him. Thranduil was thankful that Legolas had managed to cheat death on both occasions, but the King knew only too well what had been lost by his youngest child in these brushes with fate. Gone now was that sweet innocence that had instilled such joy in his father, and Thranduil now feared the events of the past days would also rob his child of the trust that Legolas had so endearingly bestowed in the past on all those around him. He gazed down at the still form and felt the guilt wash over him in icy waves.

"My lord, you need not to worry so," Kala said gently. "His injuries are not life-threatening."

Thranduil looked up, startled out of his dark brooding. "There are injuries that the eye cannot see and those are the ones that are most worrisome."

Kala inclined his head slightly. "Yes, the young prince has gone through much in recent weeks. But I also believe that his youthfulness will serve him well in the coming days. Young saplings bend with the rage of the storm, but they invariably strengthen and mature with the weathering of such tempests. Younglings have more resilience than we often give them credit for."

Thranduil regarded the healer with a half-smile. "Your words are soothing indeed, and not to the ears of your patients only."

"Often it is not the patient who needs tending," Kala returned the King's smile.

Thranduil took in a deep breath. "You have declared his injuries not to be life-threatening. You know I will hold you to that promise."

Kala dipped his head slightly. "The young prince will heal, fear not. The fever that plagues him now results partly from the infection of the reopened wound, but probably due more to the harsh treatment that he has suffered in the past days. His body had not fully recovered from the previous injuries and is therefore susceptible to ailments to which elves are normally immune. Now that his injuries have been treated and he is no longer being jostled about on horseback, I suspect he will heal quickly."

"His back --" Thranduil began, frowning.

"The welts are painful and no doubt will cause him discomfort in the days to come, but they too will heal. He will not wake soon as the draught that I have administered to him is a potent one. The deep sleep is what his body requires to heal. Do not be concerned with his prolonged unconsciousness. I will check on him later today, but if I may take my leave now, my lord."

"Thank you, Kala for all that you have done for him," Thranduil said. "You may leave."

The healer bowed once to his liege and nodded to the three princes before making his way from the chamber.

Once left alone, Thranduil regarded his sons. "You have all heard Kala. Your brother will recover. I suggest that you all go and rest now, especially you, Aldeon and Feren. Your efforts of the past days show clearly on your faces."

"I will stay with you, Adar. I am not tired," Tavaro spoke up quickly.

The King shook his head. "Please allow me some time alone with Legolas."

Aldeon pressed a gentle hand to his father's shoulder. "Of course, Adar. Come, Feren, Tavaro. Let us leave them."

Alone with his youngest son, Thranduil reached out and took hold of the unresponsive hand, cradling it within his own gentle grasp. He leaned forward and brushed his lips over the hot brows, savouring with all his heart and soul the returned presence of this one child.

xxxx

"My lord, it has been three days. Have you decided on the fate of the elders?" Yaavie asked, watching the King anxiously before exchanging uncertain looks with his fellow advisers.

Thranduil tapped the arm of his chair in thoughtful silence as he regarded the elves before him. Aldeon sat by his side, and watched the King with controlled expectancy.

"For what they have done, they deserve no less than death, " Thranduil at last spoke, his voice quiet and cold.

At the sound of the King's words, the advisers looked at each other in nervous uncertainty.

"But condemning another elf to death is not our way," Yaavie at last ventured.

"Have they not condemned many of their own to death by their treacherous acts? You will not have forgotten the blood that was spilled when the orcs attempted to raze our stronghold. Who among you can say that you, or someone that you know, remains untouched by death in that last battle?" Thranduil looked at them through narrowed eyes. "Perhaps we should let the loved ones of those killed in battle decide on their fate."

"There is no precedence for such a procedure," Yaavie pointed out.

"There is no precedence for such treachery either among our own kind," Thranduil countered. "I am determined to make an example of these traitors."

"My lord," Aldeon at last spoke up, addressing his father the King. "Death is quick, and in my opinion, too kind for what they have done."

Thranduil turned to his oldest with a raised brow. "And what would you suggest?"

"They should live out immortality in total shame and shunned forever by their own kind. They should be marked permanently as traitors to their own kind and banished forever from the woodland realm."

Thranduil pondered over his son's suggestion. After several moments of silence, he spoke. "They would live when so many have perished because of their treacherous collusion with Men."

"Death to Yulion would be a release. He has lost all his loved ones and probably would fade away in grief in any eventuality. He has already been condemned with the harshest punishment," Aldeon said.

The King was not inclined to feel sympathy for one who had nearly brought down Mirkwood in his misguided beliefs. "He suffers the tragedy of his own creation. He can blame no one but himself."

"My lord, I believe Lord Aldeon's suggestion is a wise one," Yaavie said, as others nodded in concurrence. "For what life is left to an elf if he cannot live among his own kind?"

"They were ready enough to live side by side with those vile Easterlings," Thranduil reminded coldly. "They were convinced that those humans would help them rebuild a Mirkwood that would be free of the Shadow."

The room fell into silence. In the end, Thranduil drew in a deep breath and declared, "The traitors will be dealt with as Lord Aldeon has suggested. They will be marked and banished from Mirkwood. Missives will be sent to all elven realms advising of their treachery and punishment so that none will afford them sympathy or residency."

"And the settlement elves?" Aldeon asked.

Thranduil frowned. "They will not be banished, but neither can they be allowed to stay in that settlement. I want all of Mirkwood to know of their association with the traitors so that they too will be marked by shame and be scorned by their own kind. I want them brought back and installed among the outermost cottagers. They have wished for greater protection from me. I will provide such protection," the King said with grim satisfaction. "I will ensure that I have my eyes on them at all times, as will all others."

"To have them so near. Will that not be courting danger should they take to rebellion?" one of the advisers asked in concern.

"They will be guarded closely. They will have as much freedom as if they are locked in the dungeon. I am being merciful in not throwing them all into the dungeons to live out their miserable days in perpetual gloom. This way, they will be living among the trees and able to see the sky," Thranduil said, and then added, "As well as the disdain and wrath of their fellow elves." He gazed steadily at the elves before him. "Are you then all agreeable to these forms of punishments?"

Yaavie bowed deeply, followed by the others. "Yes, my lord. You have acted with wisdom."

"If not with my heart," Thranduil said dryly. "Tomorrow the traitors will be brought before me and I will pronounce to them their punishment. I want missives prepared and sent to all elven realms. I will instruct Lord Feren to make the necessary arrangements to have the settlement elves brought back. That is all. You may leave us."

The elves bowed again and retreated from the throne room. Left in privacy, Thranduil let out a long breath and rubbed his aching head.

"Adar, are you all right?" Aldeon asked with concern, one hand on his father's shoulder.

"Aye, I am weary of all this, that is all. The past days have been all too trying."

"Forgive me, Adar, "Aldeon said quietly.

"Forgive you for what, my son?"

"I know you wanted nothing but death to the traitors. Perhaps I should not have suggested banishment as punishment."

Thranduil gazed at his son with steely eyes. "Yes, I did want an end to their miserable lives, for all the pain and death that they have caused Mirkwood, whether intentionally or not. As a father, I want nothing more than to obliterate all those who had a hand in harming your brother. But death, as you have pointed out, is quick and even merciful. What you have proposed will punish them for an eternity. Each day they will be reminded of their treachery and treated with scorn by all those they encounter. Even when they pass from this world, their punishment will not cease." The King's eyes glittered coldly. "It is unfortunate that those who had directly inflicted pain on Legolas would not suffer the same fate."

"And the Easterlings? Do we seek further revenge?" Aldeon asked.

The King's voice was bitter when he spoke. "If it was possible, I would declare war on them tomorrow and turn their strongholds into complete wastelands. But Mirkwood suffers still from the last battle with the orcs. We are woefully short on warriors. I cannot risk further lives, no matter how strong my sentiments are for revenge. We will have to wait until such time that our forces are rebuilt to their former strength."

Aldeon nodded. "Let us hope that those few spared by Feren will return to their leaders to recount to them the ferocity of our warriors. Let them live with the uncertainty as to when we will actually attack to take our revenge."

Thranduil nodded. "Aye, Feren did well. Uncertainty breeds fear. Those vile creatures deserve every bit of misery that we can cause them. We will, however, need to strengthen the patrol to the east to ensure that the Easterlings attempt no further transgressions. I will have to discuss this further with Feren to see how we can best allocate our troops."

Thranduil rose to his feet and his son quickly followed suit. "I must go and look in on Legolas. I have left his bedside for long enough."

"Let us both go see him. What says Kala of his injuries?"

Thranduil let out a long breath. "Kala assures me that Legolas is healing well. The fever, thank the Valar, is at least gone. I am concerned though by your brother's silence. He has yet to recount the events of his captivity. I see the fear that haunts his eyes and it breaks my heart to be ignorant of what he has suffered other than what is obvious. He cannot maintain such silence if his fears are to be exorcised, and yet I do not wish to force him." The King stopped and looked at his oldest. "Why is it that I always feel so helpless when it comes to Legolas?"

Aldeon could not refrain from smiling. "Adar, you really do not expect me to have an answer to that, do you?"

His father regarded him thoughtfully before slowly joining in with the smile. "No, I suppose not."

Aldeon put a hand around his father's shoulder as they continued down the hall to the Royal Family's private quarters in companionable silence. Aldeon smiled wryly to himself as he thought again of his father's question. Thranduil loved all his sons dearly, but Legolas, being the last born, would always hold a special and untouchable spot in their father's heart. It was a fact known and acknowledged by all, except perhaps by Thranduil himself. Aldeon's smile deepened as he tightened his hold around his father.

TBC

*****

See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 14 Reflections

He found his brother at the far end of the battlement, gazing at the distant canopy of trees as the icy wind blew and pulled at his billowing cloak and swirls of fine snow danced and gathered about his unmoving feet. For a long moment, Tavaro remained by the doorway and studied his brother's slender form, silhouetted against the gray sky. Then with a shake of his head, he padded forward silently, feeling the bite of the wind as it whipped his hair in all directions.

Silent as he was, Legolas had heard him. He turned and watched his older brother's approach in guarded silence. Tavaro came to a stop by the other's side and stared at the distant trees, much as the younger elf had been doing.

After a long moment, he turned to his younger brother and declared, "No, I do not see anything in those trees. What are you looking for? Or are you simply admiring the scenery on this blustery day?"

Legolas turned and stared off at the distance again. "I needed to remind myself that there is a world outside the four walls of my chamber."

"You could have chosen a warmer day to do so, bratling. Now that you have assured yourself that a world still exists outside your chamber, I suggest that we return to that said chamber where I believe a certain elfling is to be resting in comforting warmth."

"Let me stay a while yet, Tavaro. I have been suffocating behind closed walls for far too long."

Tavaro studied the other through narrowed eyes. "You know Adar will have my head for condoning this."

'I will not tell if you do not," Legolas smiled faintly.

"No, but knowing Adar, he will find out in any event, and heads will roll. Mine for certain. Yours he may spare until you have fully recovered your strength," Tavaro said with an exaggerated sigh. "How did you get pass all the guards to get up here?"

Legolas' smile deepened. "I have my ways."

"Hmm, more heads will roll. Those poor unfortunate guards. I would not want to be in their place explaining to an irate King how they have allowed an elfling slip by their supposedly tight security." Tavaro regarded his brother with a bemused grin. "Well, do you suppose we should head back now before Adar sends out a full search party? Besides, the fresh air that you so desperately seek is becoming uncomfortably fresh."

Legolas gave the trees another wistful look and followed his brother's gentle tug toward the door.

Once back in his brother's chamber, Tavaro immediately set about to build up the fire in the grate.

"Come, Legolas, sit closer by the fire. You look cold."

Legolas frowned and flashed his brother an annoyed look. "Stop fussing, Tavaro. It does not become you."

Tavaro sat back on his heels and grinned up at his younger brother. "Yes, right, for a moment, I thought I was Aldeon, or worse, Adar."

Legolas could not help but laugh at his brother's words. Nevertheless, he obediently took the chair closest to the now roaring fire and was secretly grateful for its warmth.

"Tell me, little brother. How are you feeling?" Tavaro asked as he took the chair across from his brother.

Legolas shrugged. "I am nearly fully healed. I wish someone would tell Adar that. He seldom allows me out of his sight."

Tavaro laughed. "After what has happened, you will be lucky if he lets you go to the bath chamber unescorted." Seeing the expression on his brother's face, he let out a hoot of laughter. "Do not tell me. He does that now?"

Legolas flashed him another annoyed look. "No, but it is not for the lack of trying." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I was afraid this would happen. For a while, I had thought that he truly would allow me greater freedom. But now he fusses more than ever. I feel suffocated."

Tavaro studied his young brother and said gently. "Legolas, for days Adar believed that you were lost to him. I have never seen him in such helpless despair. Have you not been found, I dread to think how Adar would react to such a loss. Or how any of us can cope with such a loss, for you are more precious to this family than you can ever imagine."

A look of guilt flashed across Legolas' face. "I am sorry to have caused such fear for everybody. It pains me that you all have suffered so because of me."

Tavaro swiftly crossed to where his brother was sitting and pulled him into his arms. "It was not your fault, Legolas. We are all so grateful to have you safely back with us."

It felt good to have Tavaro's arms around him, Legolas thought as he closed his eyes, savouring the close presence of his brother. Not so long ago he would have been squirming in such an embrace, declaring himself to be too old for such coddling. An involuntary shudder went through him as he remembered the feeling of desperate aloneness while he was held captive, and burrowed himself deeper into his brother's embrace.

"What is it?" Tavaro pulled back and asked with concern.

Legolas shook his head. "Memories."

His brother studied him. "Would you like to talk about them?"

Legolas stared at the dancing flames and did not respond immediately. Tavaro sat back in his own chair and waited patiently.

"They hated me," Legolas said in a whisper, after a lengthy silence.

"Who?"

The younger elf kept his eyes on the fire. "Ambartur, and the Men. They hated me because I was the King's son. Ambartur was going to kill me should Aldeon and Feren find us before we reached the Easterlings' camp. He wanted Adar to know the pain of losing a son. And the Men," Legolas stopped on a shaky breath, and then forced himself to continue. "The leader, he enjoyed hurting me, to break my arrogance as he said it was so like Adar's. He would whip me until I cried out. I tried so hard to be brave, but I could not help myself." He closed his eyes and shuddered helplessly.

Tavaro was immediately before him, taking his brother's colds hands into his own warms ones. "He will not hurt you again. Feren killed him." It was an effort to keep the anger and horror from his voice. The thought of his little brother being so mercilessly abused made him want to scream with rage.

Legolas looked at his older brother rather helplessly. "Why do they hate Adar? Adar is a good king. Why do they hate him?"

"Adar is a good king," Tavaro said firmly. " Mirkwood stands today only because Adar has been relentless in his fight against the Shadow. Ambartur was bitter because he had lost a son in battle and he believed it to be the fault of Adar. He and the others had been under the evil influence of the Easterlings and could no longer distinguish between what was right and what was wrong. That is how the Shadow spreads its evil. It takes away trust and honour and leaves behind hatred and greed." He reached out to stroke the bright head. "Do not despair, little brother, for they are but a very small minority of Mirkwood. The majority is still fiercely loyal to Adar and will never give up the fight against this spreading evil." He frowned, and then continued. "As for the Easterlings, they are not trusted even by others of their own race. Their cruelty and treachery are well known. Ambartur and the others were beyond foolish to place trust in those despicable creatures."

Seeing the uncertainty that lingered still on the young countenance, he cupped his brother's face gently. "Did you know that we actually had to turn away warriors because so many had volunteered to join Aldeon to search for you? You are well loved among our people, bratling."

Something glittered in Legolas' eyes. "They volunteered? I thought Adar had ordered them to come."

Tavaro shook his head, smiling. "No, they all wanted to go to bring you back to safety. The ones left behind were bitterly disappointed. Their complaints are still being heard this day. And they are even more incensed by the constant boasting of bravery and fearsome fighting skills from those who were fortunate enough to have been a part of the rescue mission. And of course there is the incessant talk of the honour of rescuing the King's son, the very same one who saved Mirkwood from certain annihilation by the orcs not so long ago."

The younger elf slowly joined in the smile. "You always exaggerate so, Tavaro."

"Not this time. You may ask Aldeon and Feren for confirmation," Tavaro said, grinning. He did not mention the fact that two warriors had been lost in that rescue and he hoped that his brother would remain ignorant of such knowledge.

Unexpectedly, Legolas wrapped his arms around the older elf and pulled him into a tight embrace. "It is so good to be home again. I love you, Tavaro."

Tavaro returned the embrace with equal warmth. "I love you too, bratling."

******

Legolas awoke, feeling disoriented and confused at the apparent lateness of the day, a reaction that was not unusual for one waking from a prolonged nap to discover the day more than half-gone. Instinctively, he felt another presence in the room and turned his head. Without surprise, his half-focused eyes fell on the familiar figure of his father, sitting, as he had done so tirelessly in recent days, in the chair by the bed.

"Adar," he smiled sleepily and pulled himself into a sitting position.

"You missed the evening meal. I brought you some food," Thranduil said as he studied his son closely for any remote sign of discomfort.

"Thank you, Adar. I am sorry for missing the evening meal. I had not intended to sleep for so long."

"It is obvious that your body needs the rest. Come, eat while the food is still hot."

Legolas looked at the food and realized with some surprise that he was actually hungry. He ate quickly while his father watched, unable to keep from smiling with satisfaction at his son's returned appetite. It was gratifying to see that Legolas was at last well on his way to recovery from his ordeal.

Thranduil shuddered inwardly as he recalled those agonizing days after Legolas had been brought home, when he had watched in helplessness as his son struggled with the seemingly endless fevered nightmares and pain. He had been there each time when his son had cried out against the unseen demons that so plagued his sleep. He had held the trembling body in his arms as he spoke soothing words to calm away the fears and pain, even while his own heart silently had wept for his son's sufferings. During those difficult days, Legolas was never left alone, being constantly watched over by his brothers in turn. And Thranduil had been there day and night, with or without sleep.

Slowly, the wounds healed and the nightmares lessened as the days passed, though the King often found himself slipping into his son's room in the dark hours of the night, if only to reassure himself that his child's slumber was undisturbed by nightmares or other discomfort. Thranduil knew that his protectiveness of his youngest was once more nearing manic proportion and that Legolas would no doubt soon find it all too stifling. However, the fear of nearly losing this son was still too fresh in his mind and Thranduil found himself quite helpless to act otherwise.

"Would you like more food?" Thranduil asked as he studied the emptied tray with an irrational joy.

Legolas shook his head, smiling. "No, thank you. I cannot believe that I ate it all."

"It is good that you are eating as such. You should do so at every meal for you are far too thin."

Legolas winced. "Adar, tree branches will be breaking under my weight should I continue to indulge like this."

Thranduil smiled. "That is an unlikely scenario. How is your wound?"

"It is healed and pains me not at all," Legolas answered, glancing hopefully at his father. "I feel ready to return to the training fields."

"You will be ready when Kala declares you to be, and not before," Thranduil said sternly.

"Adar, I will never regain my strength if I continue to sit idle day after day," Legolas said with a trace of his former impatience.

Thranduil shook his head. "Legolas, this is not something that is debatable. I expect you to fully abide by Kala's orders, whatever they may be."

"Yes, Adar," Legolas said resignedly.

Thranduil studied his son, and something pulled at his heart. He stood up and moved to his son's side on the bed, his arm encircling the young elf protectively. "I am sorry, my son."

Legolas looked at his father in surprise. "It is all right, Adar. I know you are only concerned with my wellbeing."

"No, I do not mean keeping you from the training fields." Thranduil drew in a deep breath. "I am sorry for what you have gone through."

"It was no fault of yours, Adar. There is no need for you to apologize."

"Were you not my son, they would not have done what they did to you."

Legolas looked at his father with unwavering eyes. "I am proud to be your son. I would not change it for all of Arda."

Thranduil saw the conviction on the young face and nearly cringed with guilt. "You do not understand. The Easterlings demanded Mirkwood in return for your life." The King looked away from his son's guileless eyes. "I -- I was not going to give into their demands. The realm had to come first." Thranduil's proud shoulders sagged. "I had been willing to sacrifice you."

Legolas grasped his father's hand. "It was what I was praying that you would do, even when the Man was hurting me. I told him that you were a good King and that you would not sacrifice the lives of so many for one son."

Thranduil stared at his son, feeling his throat constrict with unbidden emotions. Wordlessly, he drew Legolas into his arms and hugged him desperately, his heart brimming with pride and love for his child.

At length, Thranduil released his son and broke the silence between them. "I would not have given into the demands of those vile humans, but I would have never allowed them do to you what they had threatened if there was even the remotest way that I could prevent it. You must know that, Legolas. Your brothers were told to spare nothing in their search for you and to bring death to those who had dared to harm you."

"I do know that, Adar. I would never doubt the love that you have for me. That was why I feared that you might give into the Men's demands. I did not want to be one to bring the demise of Mirkwood." Legolas paused, and swallowed painfully. "I did not fear death, but I feared what they threatened to do to me. I did not know whether I had the courage to endure what they promised to do to me. I had never felt so frightened, or so hopeless." He stopped again and drew in a ragged breath. "I prayed for death, Adar. I thought that was my only salvation. I was willing myself to die, but I also dreaded the thought of drawing my last breath among strangers."

Thranduil shuddered and once again hugged his son fiercely. "I am so sorry, my little one, for what you have gone through. I would give my life to spare you of all that suffering." He closed his eyes and drew in the scent of his child greedily. Deep in his heart, Thranduil knew that had Legolas perished in the hands of the humans, his own will to live would be lost. For how could a father ever live with the bitter knowledge that he alone could have prevented his son's death, but had not done so?

"What will happen to the settlement elves and their elders?" Legolas asked softly.

Thranduil reluctantly released his hold on his son. "The elders have been forever banished from all elven realms and will be scorned by all those they encounter as traitors to their own kind. The settlement elves will be brought back here where they will live under the disdainful eyes of our people. I only regret that those who had direct involvement in your ordeal are dead and beyond punishment." Thranduil's eyes had hardened perceptibly as he spoke.

Legolas stared down at his own hands, frowning.

Thranduil saw the knitted brows and said gently. "For what they have put you through, no punishment will ever be sufficient."

Legolas shook his head. "I am not thinking of punishment. I merely have difficulty making sense of all that has happened." He looked up at his father, the young face uncertain and troubled. "Would you have sent troops to rescue Ambartur's son had he so requested?"

"If he had not been dealing with the Easterlings, his son would not have been in such a predicament in the first place." Thranduil's voice was cool. "But yes, I would have sent troops to rescue his son for I am responsible for all my subjects, regardless of their errant ways. But he would not be spared of punishment afterwards for what he had done."

"He was not kind to me, but he loved his son," Legolas said quietly, remembering the look on Ambartur's face as he held his son in his arms. The same look had been on his father's face when they had first reunited after he was rescued.

Thranduil let out a long breath. "He may have loved his son, but what he did was undoubtedly wrong and totally unforgivable. One can love his offspring without having to put another's life in danger. And in Ambartur's case, his misguided beliefs resulted in far too many deaths. What virtue he may have had as a father could not even begin to outweigh the amount of innocent blood spilled, including those of his own sons. I cannot find it in my heart to sympathize with one such as him."

Thranduil studied his son's distraught face and drew the younger elf into his arms once again. "Legolas, you have been through much these past weeks. I wish with all my heart that you could be spared of all that you went through, but we cannot change what has passed, nor can we wipe it from our memory. We can only try to continue on and not let those dark memories draw us into total despair. It will not be easy, my son, but we must also be mindful of the mercies that fate has shown us, not the least of which is that you have been returned safely to us. For that alone, I will be forever grateful and dare not ask for more."

Legolas burrowed deeper into the warm security of his father's embrace. "I am grateful too, Adar, to be alive, to be home again. I had thought that I would never see you or Aldeon, Feren and Tavaro again, and that was more painful than I could ever imagine. I never want to feel so alone again for as long as I live."

Thranduil closed his eyes and tightened his hold on his son. "You will never be alone, little one, for our love will always be with you. Always."

THE END.

A/N: Well, this is the end to my second story. I hope you have enjoyed it. I would like to thank all those who came along for the ride, and especially those who took the time to send in reviews. They are greatly appreciated. I must also apologize for all the typos and grammatical errors that I am sure are rampant in these stories. English is not my first language and I am still learning, so thank you for bearing with me.