Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, various publishers including but not limited to Houghton Mifflin Co, Mariner Books, Ballantine Books, and New Line Cinemas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: PG-13 rating is for light to moderate angst and adult relationships.

Eryn Galen (Greenwood the Great) was the former name of the realm of Mirkwood ruled over by Thranduil. It was due to the emergence of dark creatures that is recounted in this tale that men started to call it Mirkwood. The events chronicled in this story take place at around 1050 of the 3rd Age, some 1900 years before the events that culminated in the destruction of the One Ring.

While I have tried my best to keep this story as close to JRR Tolkien's universe as much as possible, be warned that there might be outstanding points that do not fit his writings.

There is dispute about the age of the Elven prince, but in my version of events, he has yet to reach 200 years of age (b. TA866) at this point in time.

*****

I

The dark forest waited in trepidation. Silence. The dark boughs of the trees were still; Not a leaf rustled; No creature moved. Everything was expectant.

There was a sudden movement, barely perceptible to the untrained eye. Soft rustling of leaves, barely audible. The lean figure checked himself. He had allowed his mind to wander. Continuing his journey, he seemed to blend in with the trees, as he slipped soundlessly through the beeches. Sharp eyes scanned the ground, ears on the alert for any sound. The trail was only an hour old, but the signs were already fading. The creature he tracked was stealthy - the prints on the forest ground were so light that less trained eyes would have missed it.

A cry burst through the stillness of the forest, like a hot knife through butter. He paused in mid-step. Silent, wary. One hand slipped over his shoulder. Waiting. Blue eyes swept about, and his ears strained to pinpoint the source. Nothing. Body still on guard, he pressed ahead.

Abruptly, he came upon an unknown clearing. The trees had been brutally cut down, their lives hacked away by the hated axes of the evil that now preyed his kingdom. He stopped for a moment and grief filled his heart. His entire body pursed with loathing for the cursed souls. Dark things had been gaining power steadily, but this was the first attack on the forest itself.

Momentarily overcome by emotion, he did not notice the bow being drawn until it was too late. There was a sharp twang and hiss. The arrow came right at him, and it was due to his quick reflexes that the arrow barely grazed his ear.

Anger flooded his fair features as he rolled away. One hand flew up to grab the arrow as it whizzed past. Gay laughter rang out through the forest, shattering the tense atmosphere.

"Lithroleah!" He leapt back onto his feet but did not bother to reach for the weapon strapped onto his back.

A figure emerged from behind the vegetation. Guilt and uneasiness mirrored on his face, as the newcomer took a tentative step forward. Yet another appeared behind him, a fair maiden. Her long silvery hair tied back loosely, and the sun danced across her beaming face.

She laughed again. The sound pierced through the ominous silence of the woods, bringing warmth and happiness back to the forest.

Resigned, the Hunter threw down the arrow. It was useless to continue. The creature he was stalking would have heard the commotion a mile off. He threw a last angry glance at the pair and stalked away from the clearing.

In an instant, the girl moved ahead of him, blocking his retreat.

"Upset that Lithroleah almost got you?" she said. "He gets better everyday! Perhaps the day will soon come when he will be able to beat the prince!"

Refusing to meet her eyes, he sidestepped her and continued walking, body still on the alert. "There is danger within these very trees. You should return to the dwellings of our people," he said to the girl, face turned aside still.

Lithroleah stepped forward, hesitant. Doubt clouded his face as he regarded the tall figure moving silently away. His lips quivered, but kept his peace. Eventually, he looked askance at Caeriel. She shrugged, and the pair watched their friend slip slowly from sight.

There was something bothering their friend, that much was certain, and Caeriel swore to herself that she would find out what that was.

***

The Prince of Eryn Galen sighed as he continued his journey. His mind was buzzing. He fought to keep his emotions down. A Sindarin prince would never let emotions get in the way of matters - it was too risky. Especially with his home invaded by the dark things. He had promised to rid his home of the evil that preyed upon his beloved trees, and it would do no good to let his feelings prevail.

Gathering his thoughts, the fair prince strode purposefully down the path to where his father held court.

***

The dark creature breathed a sigh of relief. If not for the foolishness of the girl and her companion, the Hunter would have caught up with him. Elves did not tire as mortal folk do, and the prince was exceptionally skilled. He would have to be watched carefully. His eyes gleamed red as he thought of the Elf. Hatred coursed through his veins, pulsating along the tunnels that carried his blood.

*****

A/N: While Legolas refers to himself as one of the Silvan folk, his family is descended from a royal Sindar lineage.

I apologise for having re-written the entire story again, but I feel this is neccessary, as I cannot help but cringe every time I read it. Thank you all for your patience, and I promise that it'll be a lot better now that it's being revised and updated!

Changes (to) include:
- re-writing awkward syntax
- removal of Mary-Sue romance to suit Tolkien's description of Elven love
- less angst for Legolas, which was getting a little tiresome
- removal of superfluous chapters and events

King Thranduil sighed. His kingdom was being invaded from all fronts, and Eryn Galen was no longer the safe haven it once was. No place was safe anymore, save perhaps the Last Homely House presided over by Lord Elrond; and the golden woods of Lorién.

Elves were cheerful and optimistic by nature. Dark things did little to burden their hearts, but this was different,. A whisper of the Evil that threatened Middle Earth was returning. It was not something to be scoffed at. He could still remember the horror of those dark times. He had been amongst the armies and seen it all. Devastation, horror. The feelings that surfaced again threatened to sweep him away.

His people had no idea what they were up against. He had let them continue believing that life was the same. Only his son knew the severity of the situation.

His son. His thoughts turned to the boy. He was still young for an Elf. Born only after the horrific battle, Legolas had never been expected to take his place by his father's side. He had an older brother who would do that. He had been the adventurer, the reckless one. He had never thought of himself as a prince. The boring work was for his father and older brother. He could go wherever he wanted, sometimes disappearing for years on end, and would reappear when everybody least expected it. Thranduil himself never knew where his son went or what he did, but hunting Orcs or taunting Dwarves was his father's guess.

Yet, in spite of his impulsiveness and apparent shortcomings, Legolas had always been better than his brother. Everybody knew that, including the older boy, but no one spoke of it. Right from the start, it was evident that the younger prince was endowed with qualities most Elves did not have. He had the ability to track as well as a Ranger, and his skill with the bow was legendary. The minute he picked up a bow, he knew how to shoot, and was improving on it steadily with the passing of years. His movements were lighter and quicker than ordinary Elves. His greatest asset, however, was his intelligence. The boy could come up with brilliant plans instantly, and pull them off successfully.

He had been born a leader, and there was a fiercely independent streak within him. Once he took up a cause, he would fight to the death to defend it. If he were truly to take his brother's place, this part of him would have to be checked. The wise must know when to follow and when to take the lead. His son still had much to learn in this area.

"My lord, Prince Legolas requests an audience."

Caught up in his private reverie, Thranduil did not realise his Captain enter the room. He sighed and signalled for his son to be shown in.

***

Legolas watched as Felnor went in to inform the king. He always found it strange that he had to seek permission to confer with his own father - not that It was unexpected. He had never been close to the monarch. He was too different from the king, and they often did not see eye to eye. In recent months, however, Legolas did his very best to keep the differences at bay. Thranduil was proud, and a little too stern for his son's liking, but he had his people's interests at heart.

He often thought over the revelations his father had made to him after his brother left. It was still difficult to digest. One part of him dismissed them as utter nonsense; the other was not so sure.

Not anymore. Seeing the damage inflicted in the clearing seemed to have sparked something off in the prince. The threat in the forest was gaining. If not countered, it would completely overwhelm them. True, they could pass into Aman, but his love for Arda would not allow him to do so. He sensed some unfinished business waiting for him. Abandonment was not an option.

The ivory doors opened. The Captain of the elite Home Guard stepped out and motioned for him to go within. Legolas nodded in acknowledgement before entering.

***

King Thranduil looked at the lean figure entering the room. There was something new in his poise that reminded the old man of his older son. His heart ached anew.

"Father." Legolas bowed, and kissed the ruler's hand.

Thranduil did not speak, and instead motioned for him to start.

"Evil is closer than we think it is. I came across a trail in the woods. It was fresh, and unlike anything I have ever seen before in Eryn Galen! The air about it felt foul, contaminated, and I could sense its Shadow ahead of me."

Thranduil looked up sharply, and frowned.

"Did you manage to find out what it was?"

Colour crept into the prince's cheeks. "I - failed, Father."

A sigh escaped the King's lips. "No other could have done so when you have failed."

Legolas looked up, surprised. His father rarely consoled him, especially not since he was a young child. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Orcs have passed into Eryn Galen. As I was tracking the creature, I came across a clearing in the forest. It was small, but clearly the work of Orcs; their reeking stench was still about when I reached it. The marks of their axes have left a wound in the land that can never be healed."

Silence fell. A heavy blanket of uncertainty hung in the air, threatening to smother both father and son.

"What else could you gather from the site?"

Legolas coloured again. "I thought it wiser to return straight to you, so that a patrol could be organised to scan the site. The signs are complicated; I can't interpret them alone. The enemy is cunning and wise. He serves to cloud the mind deliberately."

Thranduil cast a glance at Legolas; clearly the boy was not telling him everything he knew.

"Father, when should we announce the threat? Our people are growing restless: they will not be kept in the dark for long. Many are already starting to question the peace that we now enjoy."

"In good time; as soon as we find out what is happening. We must proceed with caution. These creatures must not be underestimated. We cannot risk a second darkness; too much is at stake."

Legolas nodded, agreeing. It was best not to alarm their people. A frantic migration to Valinor would be the last thing they needed.

"I do not know if the clearing was the work of passing Orcs, or ones that have decided to make Eryn Galen their home. The dark creature I was trekking led me straight to that clearing. It was as if he wanted me to see it. He was taunting me, daring me to do something about it. I do not pretend to understand the twisted thinking of such a cursed creature."

Anger crept into his voice. Images of the clearing leapt to his mind: the axe marks, the slain trees, the deathly silence.

"We need Healers over there as soon as possible. There may still be a chance of bringing back the trees."

Even then, he knew it was not possible. The attack was vicious, and had been clear to him that there was no way for the trees to be brought back.

"I will send my most trusted Healers, they will know not to speak about what happened. It has been a long day for you."

"Thank you, Father." The reply was strained, awkward. "If my help is ever needed - "

Thranduil nodded heavily; his mind had wandered long before his son left the room.

The eye watched the prince leave the throne room. It would be time to strike soon. Silently, it followed the lithe figure down the path, waiting. All it needed was for the prince to leave the safety of the Palace.

Reaching the perimeter of the palace grounds, Legolas stopped. He seemed to sense something was amiss. His tracker paused; discovery seemed eminent; tension hung in the air. Just as the tracker was about to abandon all hope and turn to run, the prince abruptly started walking again.

They continued out of the palace, through the gates manned by the guards. The tracker slipped past the guards easily.

Now out of sight of the guards, it was time. He could strike now. His waiting would not be in vain.

A body moved, quick as lightning, pouncing on the other, pinning him to the ground, who knew instantly that the game was up.

***

Not too far away, yet another was pinned to the ground.

"How dare you disobey me?" An ugly, grating voice resonated around the cave as a hand tightened around the unfortunate creature's throat.

"My men where getting restless. They need the sport to keep their morale up."

The hand tightened further still. A gasp was let out as the wretched one struggled to breathe.

"The Elven prince is not one to be trifled with. He is dangerous, and could destroy us!" The ugly red eyes coursed with hatred as he contemplated his prey.

Arms flailed weakly, trying to stop the torture, but there was to be no easing up. The struggles grew weaker, and a sickening snap filled the air. The Captain lay on the floor, his neck in an unnatural angle. Lifeless, horror-filled eyes stared up at the roof of the cavern.

A grunt of satisfaction escaped from his killer's throat. The Captain was a useless fool. He had revealed himself to the Elves. He had allowed his men to destroy the trees and alert the Elves. Now he had paid for his moment of weakness. They could not afford to put a step out of place.

"Why did you have to kill the poor soul, Yarnark?"

He whipped around, the voice sending icicles through his heart.

"He had allowed his men to - "

"I know, but why make such a big fuss?" The other stepped out of the shadow, a lazy smile playing about his face. "Why do you fear the Elves finding out about us?"

"Master, you do not understand."

"Oh I understand perfectly, my friend, in fact, I was the one who led the Princeling to the clearing that your Orcs made."

Yarnark tried hard to conceal his surprise and fear. Terror filled his very being as he struggled to maintain a calm voice.

"But, why?"

"Why? Oh, it is very simple. I grew tired of waiting. Tired of having to hide in shadow and secrecy. Tired of shrinking from the open."

"Master, we are not as strong as you! We cannot stand sunlight - "

His protest was cut short by a wave of the hand.

"This is getting boring. Let's talk about something else. Something more interesting."

Grim teeth glittered in the dancing firelight. Not for the first time, the Orc felt a shiver run down his spine. The creature was overly complacent, and deranged as well. There was to be no telling what he would do to him if he argued any further. Cowering into his very skin, he nodded, fearfully. His response seemed to please his master. A laugh escaped from the hideous lips, reverberating around the cavern. More shivers ran down Yanark's spine as he stood there, awaiting his master's words, pretending to eagerly anticipate them.

IV

Caeriel and Lithroleah emerged from the forest into dazzling sunlight. It was nearing dusk, and the air was filled with an expectancy. They were perched upon the edge of the woods. Overlooking the valley set before them. Far off to the horizon, the rocky hills glowed red with the setting sun. The Elves stopped to admire the beauty of the surrounding country.

The crimson glow of the sun coloured the entire valley, encompassing it with all its splendour. Elves appreciated nature more so than any other creatures. Wonder found its way into the heart of the two. Arda was truly gorgeous. They could not understand why any would want to leave it for Valinor.

Time was forgotten, and all senses of urgency slipped away. They only existed for themselves at that very moment. A little awkwardly, Lithroleah slipped his arm over Caeriel's shoulder. Startled, she turned and looked at him. He coloured furiously. She smiled at him, a warm, grateful smile. Grateful for him being there. Grateful for the beauty they were experiencing.

The sun set gradually, darkness crept slowly into the world. The golden view was replaced as twilight made its slow but sure way into the earth. Slumbering creatures awakened, and others fell into the embrace of sleep.

Lithroleah trembled suddenly. A barely perceptible tremor which passed through his body, and he awoke from his enjoyment. The cause for it was unknown. Images of the prince flooded his mind, and he took a step back from Caeriel, withdrawing his arm as if stung.

"We must seek your uncle. The hour grows late."

Caeriel turned, questions in her eyes, but his tone was curt, and she did not probe further.

***

The two arrived at a crudely fashioned gate in the middle of a wheat field, an odd residence for an Elf.

Lithroleah pushed open the gate, brows furrowed. Uneasiness was mirrored in his deep eyes. He could not shake the feeling. The Elven prince still occupied his thoughts.

They walked down the path towards the rudimentary house that stood amidst the golden crop. A flickering light peeked out from within, glimmering ever so faintly. Above, stars had started to appear. Eärendil, the most beloved of all stars, shone brightly down upon them and bathed the earth with her gentle light.

Reaching the door of the house, Caeriel turned and looked at Lithroleah, uncertainty mirrored in her eyes, still puzzled by his earlier behaviour. It was so unlike him to be so abrupt and harsh. He sensed her concern and managed a small smile.

Still unsure, she raised her face to his and stared into his eyes. Her lips trembled. Just as they were about the part, Lithroleah pulled the knocker and banged on the door, breaking the moment.

Moments of silence passed, it was awkward, suffocating. The door opened a crack, breaking the uncomfortable situation. Intense blue eyes stared out. Fear and distrust were instantly replaced by recognition and happiness.

"Caeriel!" the Elf within cried out with joy, "It has been long indeed ere I last saw you!"

He flung the door open and embraced the Elf girl. Beckoning to Lithroleah while slipping off the hat that concealed his dark head and pointed ears, he led them within the humble abode. Homely and comfortable, it was filled of the forest. Vines grew snaking all over, twisted branches of trees intertwined with them, flowers closed for the night. There was a tree grown into the shape of a chair, a table, silver trimmings. Human artefacts interspersed with Elvish ones, a lone candle on the table, the dim light barely bright enough to fill the corner it sat in.

"Sit down! Sit down! Some tea for you?" The older Elf was beset himself with joy. He flitted lightly from place to place, opening drawers, pulling things out. The neutral, peaceful face usually accustomed to quiet contemplation lit up like the morning sun.

The two younger Elves sat down. They had forgotten the wonders of the place. The way the older Elf effortlessly combined both Elven and Human objects was a wonder. The first-born usually had no wish to have anything to do with Mortals. They considered themselves above it all. Not this Elf. He was fascinated by Humans, and had spent a long time studying and living with them. A fancy Legolas seemed to share as well.

Caeriel smiled, watching her uncle and his uncontained excitement. "Do not trouble yourself. We do not require any sustenance."

"Nonsense. Plenty of good food would go to waste if they are not eaten. I am afraid I overdid myself today. A visit to the town resulted in the buying of a whole lot of good food. Human, of course. You do not mind, do you?" the last question he directed at Lithroleah.

Lithroleah shook his head politely, having composed himself. He smiled warmly at the older Elf.

"Milinral, if you think it is good, I would try some."

Milinral chuckled, as he laid out the food on the table. He rarely had guests, and it was always a special occasion when his niece visited. Lithroleah caught himself staring at the Elf's hands. Scarred and rough, they told of his great suffering, fighting in the Great War. It was then that he had developed his fondness for Humans, Caeriel had told him. Fighting alongside them, he had found them fascinating. And it was then that he had found his own immortality a burden. He watched helplessly as his friends, one after another, died of old age. And their children. And their children after that, while he himself lived on; cursed with the fate of living forever.

Even if he wanted to, he could not be like one of them. Hence he had decided to spend his days living like them, with them, guarding them. He was an Elf with great powers, and very wise too. To spend it with Humans was considered a shame. He was thrown out of the Elven community, and stayed in a small hamlet near the Western Sea. The Humans had welcomed him with open arms in spite of his race. They became his new family.

Then one day, while sparring with a mortal child, he had forgotten his own strength, and fatally wounded the boy. Filled with grief and self-loathing, he took leave of the place, and moved back near Eryn Galen, masking his identity, becoming a wheat farmer. Few knew of his existence, which served him well. He could learn of the other race in his relative anonymity, and his new life pleased him.

Lithroleah started from his recollections as Milinral filled the cup in front of him with tea. A Human beverage, Elves generally it found too mild for their liking. Lithroleah found that it calmed his frazzled nerves, however, as he sipped at it slowly.

The conversation wound its way to the real intent of their visit soon. The old warrior sighed as he heard the questions. He knew much about the recent events in the forest, and he debated if the secrets should be revealed. He leaned back in his chair, sucking at the pipe filled with Dransloon, a favourite of Humans.

Lithroleah and Caeriel waited patiently. They could sense the other knew much and was deliberating.

"How fares our friend the prince?" An unexpected question escaped the lips of the old recluse.

"More difficult than ever. Legolas is no longer the carefree spirit we knew and loved. He has grown withdrawn, and avoids speaking more than is required to us. Only Esendri has remained close to him." Caeriel said.

Milinral nodded. His smile did not mirror what was felt in his heart. He was very fond of Legolas, and was greatly troubled by the changes in the Silvan prince. He could sense that the Elf had drifted apart from his friends. And during a time like this when he needed his friends' support.

"Ai, do not worry yourselves unnecessarily about our young prince. Give him time to get over the fact that he can no longer run wild! Which is very well too! Goodness knows how many times that fool has given me a splitting headache with his mischief! It is a change for the better. He has got to learn the meaning of responsibility!"

A faint smile played on Caeriel's lips. Indeed, Legolas had spent much of his time annoying his elders, a plague that never left them alone until he was satisfied. Yet, at the same time, he remained endearing to all. There was much love in the Silvan community for the younger prince in spite of his pranks and misdemeanours.

"Do not think so much about the changes to Eryn Galen. It is true that Legolas knows of it, and tell you he will when the time comes and he is ready. Stay close to him and offer him all the support you can. It is a difficult time for him. Do not speak of the clearing to any. Thranduil has enough to deal with without his people spreading rumours and fanning fear."

The two nodded. They were startled by the urgency of the tone. The situation seemed more serious than they had believed.

"The night is still young. Do not let your hearts be troubled by this. Starlight does wonders for a troubled soul. Finish your food and be off! Send my regards to Legolas. Let him know that he is free to visit my humble abode if the need should ever arise!"

*****

A/N: Sorry for taking so long; things have been a bit hectic here. I'll try to update as soon as I can!

V

The Elf pinned to the floor trembled. It was too much for him. He had not planned on this happening. A cold gleaming blade was pressed to the base of his throat, held with the lightest pressure to prevent any untoward movements.

Abruptly, he was released and the knife blade was whipped away. The grip on him relaxed. He climbed to his feet, a look of surprise mixed with embarrassment in his face.

"Legolas," he started.

The other stalked off, annoyed.

He ran after the retreating back of the prince. "Master Legolas, please!"

Legolas spun around in anger. He took a long, hard look at the other Elf. What he saw was concern and puzzlement, and his anger faded a little. There was no doubting that Esendri meant no harm. The cheerfulness and optimism in him had not altered one bit despite the events that had happened. While facetious at times, there was no doubting that he meant good.

"Please do not do that again. The feeling of being hunted is not a good one."

Legolas faced his friend. Guilt rushed up as he realised that Esendri had indeed believed for a moment that he was about to kill him. He regretted placing the knife at his throat. A sudden urge overcame him to break down the icy wall he had so carefully built around himself and bare his heart to his closest friend.

Esendri looked deeply into his master's eyes. He sensed much fear and confusion, and a great sadness as well. Something that was never present in the past. It troubled him greatly.

"Master. Please let me know what is bothering you. Let me help you!" The words came out with difficulty, for he knew his offer would be declined.

Legolas shook his head sadly. The moment of weakness passed. He could not tell his friend. Not yet. He had overreacted again, and let impulsiveness cloud his actions.

"Esendri, I wish to share my burden with you, as I know you would with me. Sadly my responsibilities allow it not to be. My father would not approve. The time would come when I would need your help and you will wish fervently it were not so. I am weary, for it has been a long trip. I wish to have some rest."

He started walking again, the weight in his heart growing, not waiting for an answer. The thought of distancing himself from his closest friend and brother was unbearable. Especially when he had already put a wall between himself and the rest of his friends.

Esendri caught up with him and caught him by the elbow. He spun his master around, and looked straight into the marine eyes. His grey eyes focused on the distanced blue orbs. What he saw there chilled him. Shocked and surprised by the amount of conflict and melancholy, he was stunned by the fear he saw in the other's eyes. Esendri had never known Legolas to be afraid. In all their long years as friends, not once had he seen the prince shown any sign, however slight, of anything less than an iron resolve that was unshakable and interminable.

Legolas held his gaze. He knew what the other saw in his eyes. The grey eyes mirrored his own fear. He saw the concern and love in them, and his heart ached anew. His will broke down, and he finally gave in.

"I promise to speak of it all in the morning, but my body cries for rest. It has been an enervating day for me. Much has occurred that I wish had not. I need time to pool my thoughts together before I am ready." A sad smile played on his lips.

Esendri let go of his elbow. Satisfied that his master would not break his word, he held the other's gaze for a while more. Suddenly, a bright smile broke on his lips as a thought broke through.

"Do not tell me it is your father pressuring you to take a wife?" Esendri asked cheerfully.

Faint colour crept up the sides of the fair face. A strange emotion played on his face, but it was gone in a split second, and Legolas punched Esendri playfully. It caught the smaller Elf off guard, and sent him reeling to the ground.

Legolas laughed, for the first time in days upon seeing the look on the other's face. It was musical, light-hearted. Free of the burden its owner carried. Laughter. How he had missed it, thought the prince ruefully, as he took in his battle-ready friend who stood before him.

Come what may, Legolas knew that he would have Esendri by his side. It was a thought that filled his insides with warmth and joy. It dispelled his unhappiness.

He feigned a lunge to the left. Esendri moved quickly to block it. Before it could reach him, a leg shot out and hooked itself at the back of his knee, pulling himself to the ground for the third time. Constant sparring with the Prince of Eryn Galen, however, had trained him well. With considerable speed and dexterity, Esendri brought his elbow up and against the prince's face. That was enough to cause the prince to slow his attack, as an arm went up to guard his face from the blow. Esendri smiled. He was too well versed in the other's fighting style. A slip here and there might occur, but he could usually predict his master's moves with fluidity and accuracy. Legolas knew well enough, and leapt nimbly aside, breaking the momentum.

"There is no fun sparring with you, Esendri. You know my moves as well as your own."

"Ai, you only have yourself to blame in that, Your Highness. Improvement is the only way to ensure your enemies do not get the better of you. Surely this you know. A prince cannot afford to get complacent or he would end up a sluggard!"

"Luck is with you, that I did not decide to draw blade or bow, or it would have been the end of you!" The prince's retort was sharp but the tone coltish.

"And who would be around to share your burden then, my Master, for is it not true I am the only one you would trust all your thoughts with? For if what I have guessed is true, you would need more than brute force and prowess on the battlefield. Do my words deviate so far from the truth?"

It was more than enough for the prince, his face slowly reddening. He turned from the grinning Elf and started walking with long, quick strides. His face grew hotter with every step he took. He wished Esendri would stop his incessant teasing.

Esendri laughed and called after the fast disappearing figure.

"A prince does not run from anything. Much less when he is going home to an unturned bed. Give me a few moments to catch my breath, my lord, ere I run along to tuck you in!" He made no effort to catch up with the prince.

A smile forced his way to Legolas' lips again in spite of himself. Esendri was skiving again. It would result in a return to dirty quarters for the umpteenth time. Why he had such a lazy servant he could not fathom. But the fun and laughter brought by Esendri, the friendship he offered, more than made up for the cleanest bed in the world.

The Prince of Eryn Galen threw open the door to his bedchamber. The earthen colours that rose to greet him made him feel at ease instantly. His keen Elven senses detected a fine layer of dust present. He had been gone for a week, and already it had been enough time for Esendri to neglect his duties.

Legolas took off his weapons, and flung them onto the floor. Esendri would have to pick them up later. He needed the rest badly. He sunk into the rich sheets, and let the softness and warmth overcome his being. His tired muscles began to relax as his open eyes fixed on the beautiful images that were playing out on the ceiling.

He was one of the lucky few that had a Mirror of Jalkren. Built with an ancient and forgotten magic, it drew on the thoughts and memories of its owner, sifting through them, picking out the most beautiful and beloved. These images were displayed on the Mirror, as the owner slept with his eyes open. Focusing on the things of beauty and magnificence. It was particularly useful after a long journey, when one was tired, both emotionally and physically. It kept disillusionment at bay. The effect on the subconscious form was powerful, easing the burden of the immortals, aiding in their recollections of love and beauty.

The bed was infused with an Elvish herb called Isinlar, that Legolas was partial to. It calmed the mind and banished worries. Prolonged exposure to it helped improve on iron resolve and sharp wit. Once abundant in Middle Earth, it was all but destroyed by the Great Darkness. Now, it only remained in the royal gardens of Eryn Galen, forgotten by all. Legolas credited his skills entirely to the herb, but others knew better.

As the herb and the mirror worked to heal his tired body and mind, Legolas emptied his thoughts of past events. Slowly, the tension began to drain from him, and he passed into sleep.

The prince lay there, deep in slumber. He did not stir as Esendri crept into the room, picking up the castaway weapons. Neither did he flinch as his soft footwear was pulled off, supple light shoes made from specially toughened leather, which enabled him to fly across snow without leaving as much as a mark. Unlike boots, the shoes made little noise when walking through a forest. It enabled him to track well in the forest. They were caked with the mud and dampness from the earth on which he had travelled.

The servant pulled off his master's clothes and replaced them with a loose sleeping robe. The dirty clothes were carefully bundled and left in a pile. Using a fine brush, he dusted the surfaces in the room carefully. As the brush swept over the dust, it caused the fine particles to stick to its bristles. It was made from the fibres of Gildrad, a plant that served many purposes, including its extreme usefulness in making boats. The fibres were waterproof, and Elves used them in the making of their sea-faring vessels.

He then covered the prince in a rich duvet of the purest silk. It would keep one cool during hot days, and warm through the coldest winters. Legolas stirred briefly, but did not awake from the intrusion. Esendri was concerned. He had never seen his friend slumber so deeply. He would be awake usually at the slightest obtrusion. Knife at the ready. Now, he was still unconscious to the world, after all the attention lavished on him.

After he finished, the slight Elf left the room, quiet as a cat, the ball of clothes under his arm. The windows were still open, light satin curtains billowing with the breeze that perforated the room. Odd expressions found their way onto the face of Esendri. He turned and glanced upon the slumbering form before shutting the door silently, his olfactory senses still thrilled by the mixed smell of the Isinlar herb coupled with the sweet, musty scent of the earth.

***

The night sounds gradually evaporated as the sun's rays settled once again upon the waking earth. The chirping of crickets gave way to birdsong. Flowers opened their petals, a full bloom to greet the welcome warmth. Dew on the blades of grass evaporated as the orb in the sky drew higher overhead.

Legolas jolted awake with a start. He sat up, struggling from under his sheets. The sleep from his eyes had not yet dissipated, and he sat there for a brief moment, disorientated. His sluggish mind strained to recall past events as he took in his fresh clothes and clean room.

The door opened, and Esendri slid in, a broad, cheerful grin on his face. He carried a breakfast tray, filled with fruit and oats. Silvan Elves did not eat meat, surviving instead on food offered by the trees themselves, and feywine. Close to the earth, they did not hunt as some of their kindred did.

"I have never seen you sleep like that, Legolas," Esendri said.

Colour rushed up to the cheeks of the Elvish prince. It was indeed unlike him to be so disorientated, for he usually had his senses on full alert.

Smiling weakly, he reached over and took a fruit and started eating. The hunger that was so far suppressed by fatigue appeared with a vengeance. He scoffed the fruit down ungraciously and reached for the bowl of oats. Esendri suppressed a laugh, and sat down upon the side of the bed.

"Careful, my fair prince, for you may choke yourself to death."

Legolas glared at him between mouthfuls, and took a long swig out of the silver goblet placed at his bedside. The wine warmed his throat as it slid down, bringing colour to his pallid face.

"A little early for wine?"

When Esendri saw that his master was still bleary-eyed, he set down the breakfast tray and left the room, before reappearing with a silver basin.

"A wash of your face will surely chase the sleep from your eyes."

Legolas did as told obediently, and was rewarded by refreshing coolness on still sleepy skin. His senses started to alert again, and he looked at Esendri once more, questions in his eyes.

"Master, you slept right through everything. You slumbered and failed to even flinch when I came in." Esendri's voice was mixed with amusement and worry. " I have never seen you like this before. And you promised to tell me everything!"

The prince nodded. He had no intention breaking his word, and so he began, albeit with initial hesitation. Once the first awkward words came out, there was no stopping them. He spoke of his brother's leaving, the effect it had on his father. His father's new dependence on him, the younger son. His unwillingness to accept it, the burden he had to bear. The possibility of succeeding his father should a decision be made to leave for Valinor. His lyrical voice was low and sad. It tore at Esendri's emotions, almost too much for him to bear.

He paused for a while, looking searchingly at his friend. He felt insecure, afraid, alone. Esendri nodded encouragingly, and placed a hand on his shoulder. The prince continued. Speaking of how his father had revealed to him the threat to Eryn Galen, how he had been sent to find out more, how he had been forced to keep silent about it. The loneliness was growing too much for him to bear. Forced isolation from his friends was the thing he feared most, but he was forced to turn away from himself.

Yet, he knew that all this was unavoidable, for the nature of the threat and the seriousness was still to be determined. He spoke of the dark creature he had tracked for a week, of the clearing and the Orc attack.

Esendri listened patiently. It came as a surprise to him. Careful not to show his emotions, he let his master finish. He now understood the cause of his master's sadness and conflict. It was enough to tear one apart. Especially for one as accustomed to a light hearted and untroubled existence as the younger son of the King.

Finally, when Legolas had talked himself out, Esendri spoke. "Master, I am honoured that you have chosen to tell me this. I would ask to go along with you on your journeys, if the King permits. However, if you fear his anger, I will pretend none of this ever passed through your lips."

Warmth and appreciation filled the fairer Elf. Esendri was a good friend. He already felt better, having laid his soul bare in front of the other. Keeping secrets was not one thing he favoured, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Thank you, Esendri. I will never know a friend as good as you. Do not worry yourself about my father. There are things I have to attend to."

Esendri nodded, sprinting out of the room, returning with fresh clothes.

"A bath is in order for you, Legolas. You have the name of a prince to live up to now, do you not?"

Legolas smiled and nodded, and allowed himself to be coddled into the tub of warm water that his servant had so carefully prepared for him.

Glorfindel reigned in his horse sharply. The hoofs of the horse dug into the soft earth, leaving a dark trace of upturned soil. The horse snorted, but did not throw his rider off. The Elf spoke soothingly to his horse in his rhapsodic tongue. A splendid horse, one that many had failed to tame, it had only become docile under the hand of Glorfindel.

The Elf leapt off the horse lightly, stroking the horse's mane softly, speaking quietly to it, eyes on the alert. He had felt something too. Something unpleasant. Something that chilled to the very bone. His eyes swept the surroundings. All at once, the feeling dissipated before he could get a hold on it.

He frowned. Eyes still searching, he leapt back upon his horse. They moved off again. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. And so near to Eryn Galen. He had always believed Eryn Galen to be a sanctuary, like Imladris. It was inconceivable that dark creatures be found so near. Eryn Galen had to be experiencing more trouble than he had thought.

His mind drifted from the surroundings, as he continued his musings. It was not until his horse slowed his pace did he notice that they were entering the great forest.

Jerked from his thoughts, Glorfindel looked about. He had not visited the great forest despite his many years of existence, as the Silvan Elves were somewhat insular creatures. What he saw was a beautiful kingdom. A place for Silvan Elves to call home. He now understood why others spoke glowingly of the place. The trees themselves seemed alive. The boughs spread out, reaching far towards the heavens, and the lush leaves were of the deepest green. The canopy was scanty enough that rays of sun pierced through the branches, illuminating the forest floor, giving everything a golden appearance.

The grass that carpeted the ground flourished with the loving attention supplied by the sun. Thick as a luxurious carpet, Glorfindel could even imagine walking upon the tapestry that was alive, and feel the softness on bare feet.

Flowers bloomed in every corner. The faint pink flowers had overtaken the leaves, giving the appearance of snow that had settled upon the branches, gently caressing the trees. Elsewhere, tiny yellow flowers peeked from in between the blades of the grass. Here and there, splashes of pink and blue were to be seen. It was another world altogether.

The musty smell of the damp earth, coupled with the light fragrances of the flowers drifted up and greeted the visitor. It was tantalising, and Glorfindel longed to get off his steed and wonder among the flowers, source of the emanations.

Birdsong filled his ears. Squirrels scampered around, storing their acorns. The soft burrowing of rabbits, the buzzing of bees. The almost silent sound of butterflies flapping their wings.

Even the feel of the air was exhilarating, a misty coolness, but not humid at the same time. The air was light, joyful, full of life. A barely perceptible breeze made its way through the trees. Winding teasingly, it gently stroked and coddled, tugging at the flesh.

Glorfindel examined the forest with wondrous eyes. Appreciative senses took in everything, stimulated by the newness of it all. He slowed his horse to a crawl to marvel at the woods, his mission temporarily forgotten. His head tilted up, a half-smile on his face

In his wonder, he had forgotten to watch out for himself. The horse stopped suddenly, and he whipped around, to face another Elf on a horse, bow stringed.

"What is your business, cousin. Speak now, or do not blame me if I shoot!" the other Elf spoke in a different dialect from Glorfindel's native tongue.

Keeping an eye on the other's bow, he nodded respectfully, and spoke back haltingly, "I carry a message from Lord Elrond of Imladris. I seek an audience with your King."

The bow was slowly let down, as the other assessed him, taking his time to draw a conclusion.

Suddenly, the stranger smiled warmly at him. "Pardon me, cousin, for I am under strict orders to keep any strangers out. I will warrant you an exception, however, for the crest of Imladris is welcome within our borders. Allow me to take you to see the King. It is a two day journey to His Majesty's palace. Take liberties with your privilege, and it is sure you will not walk out of Eryn Galen alive." His tone was friendly and jovial.

Glorfindel relaxed visibly, and returned the smile, following the other deep into the forest. Turning his head now and then to look at something new, he once again immersed himself in the feel of his surroundings.

***

As the two horses proceeded along through the forest, Glorfindel became aware of subtle movements in the woods. Upon closer examination, he noticed that there were many wood Elves concealed within the vegetation. Imperceptible to the untrained eye, they moved with such a silence and grace that made Glorfindel wonder. While stories and songs were sung of them, he had never seen them firsthand, as the two kingdoms were cut off by the Misty Mountains. Only specially appointed messengers travelled between. Relations were neither warm nor strained, but a good deal of respect existed between the two realms.

The Elves looked at him as he passed, showing no more interest than to a deer. More concerned with their tasks, they went about doing them with a spring in their step. Some were out gathering food, while others were checking on their favourite trees. Some were simply enjoying the woods, loving the very feel of the forest. They were dressed in earthen colours, unlike the Elves of Imladris, who preferred silver and richer colours. Their dialect sounded strange to the messenger's ears, and was whimsical, reminiscent of leaves rustling in the mind.

It never ceased to amaze Glorfindel that Elves, after their many years in the world, still found themselves being fascinated with Middle-Earth. Millennia spent walking the Earth was not enough to see everything still. New things were to be explored and experience with the dawn of each new day.

The two Elves moved through the forest swiftly, not pausing when dusk fell. They continued on as night enveloped the sleeping forest, the moon casting a silver glow. They spoke sparingly, but in good will, and it did not seem long ere the first signs of dawn broke through the trees again.

Evidence appeared of dwellings as the first rays of the sun hit the canopy. Barely perceptible, the Silvan Elves had changed little of the live wood. Glorfindel marvelled at how well the Wood Elves seemed to have integrated their civilisation with the woods.

Upon closer examination, it was revealed that the vegetation that grew from the ground were the dwellings of the Silvan Elves. They had deftly combined organic matter, weaving a magic, showing that the woodland Elves shared a symbiotic relationship with the trees. The great Elms providing them with shelter, and the Elves giving them nourishment, care, tender love.

The effect was breathtaking. Large trees formed canopies and enclosed spaces not unlike rooms of houses. Vines ran along the doorways, beautiful flowers attached to them. An explosion of life, and a celebration of nature. The stranger could feel that the houses were alive. Still growing, breathing.

The dwellings grew more splendid and ornate. What were previously just simple cottages gave way to beautiful mansions, with intricate patterns that grew from the plants themselves lining the pathways. The perimeter between the dwellings grew more spacious. Colours were wilder, more abundant. The aroma from flower petals varied with the houses. One moment it was a beautiful sweet drifting up from the gate of a house. The next, a refreshing, tantalizing fragrance rushing out from a column of violet florets.

Finally, the palace grounds burst into view. It greatly outstripped the extravagance of the other mansions. A formidable looking fence made of pure gold ran around it. The architecture of the palace incorporated precious metals into its design. Sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, opals and many other precious stones glittered from beneath the vines that twisted around the barrier. Glorfindel felt surprised. It was so unlike the other dwellings. While still beautiful, he felt that precious metals made it lose some of the charm that the other houses had.

They reached the gates of the palace. Ornate carvings of brass leapt up from the ground. The amount of work put into it was astounding. More gems were embedded within the twists and turns of the metal that served to keep the unwanted out.

The sentry at the gates let them through without question and a warm smile of welcome.

Once within the palace gates, the opulence and splendour increased. Glorfindel felt overwhelmed by the richness and the exotic air that the grounds conveyed. He had heard that King Thranduil coveted material wealth. It was clear from the palace grounds what he had done with his treasures.

Fountains of great magnificence appeared. Some of them made of marble, while others were trees themselves. The gardeners had weaved their magic on the plants, causing them to project jets of water, forming beautiful arcs into the air.

The sun seemed to have an added sense of cheerfulness. It beat down upon the palace grounds with an exuberance that made Glorfindel's heart soar. The rays bounced off the arcs of water, and the little streams that ran through, causing the water to look like pure silver. Even having seen the golden woods of Lórien, Glorfindel could not help but admire at the beauty of it.

Life was exuded from the very ground itself. Animals walked along the paths of the Elves, undaunted by their presence, deer and fawns grazed brazenly in the open, not bolting when the riders drew near. Birds flew right up to them, so near that he could catch them if he wanted.

The Elf riding in front turned back and smiled at his ward. "The work of the prince." He did not elaborate, and received a polite nod in return.

After a long walk, they came into view of the palace proper, and the visitor found more to wonder at. The palace itself was carved out of pure ivory. Glimmering dazzlingly in the late morning sun, it had carvings finer than hair. The whiteness of the palace was tantalizingly pure on the eyes. The patterns were decorated with fine mithril dust, which gave it a lifelike appearance, glittering and shimmering in the lazy sunlight.

At the gates of the palace, two Elves stood, arguing vehemently. Their exchange was heated but hushed, and Glorfindel could not make out the words that passed between them. As they drew near, however, the taller Elf looked up, taking in the sight of the visitor.

Glorfindel noticed an odd expression on the face of his companion. Exuberance, and love, appeared on his face, as well as something bordering on reverence.

The two Elves were clad in simple shades of brown and green, colours that blended in perfectly with the surroundings. The taller, blonde Elf wore the garb of an ordinary hunter, a long knife strapped to his side. A little braid ran down each side of his head, while the rest of his long hair was held back from his face neatly. Slender and lean, his long fingers were still tightly clasped around the other's wrist, restraining him. Intense blue eyes searched Glorfindel's face, a strong streak of independence etched in them. He had a youthful face. There were faint, barely perceptible laugh lines around his mouth that looked like they had not been used recently. Determination was in his very poise. He had the look of one used to a unrestrained life.

"Your - " Glorfindel's guide started to speak to the taller Elf, and was quickly silenced with a furrow of brows by the latter. He looked around, a little awkwardly at Glorfindel, and to the shorter Elf, as if seeking aid.

"What is your business here?" the small Elf said. His voice was flighty, with a jaunty edge to it. He was dressed in a light overcoat. His auburn hair was held back loosely, and Glorfindel noted the absence of braids. Grey eyes that danced in the sunlight looked Glorfindel up and down. He did not challenge the newcomer as the other did. The stranger was just another new item of interest. Both seemed very much at home at the doorstep of the Palace. It surprised the visitor, for he had heard that Thranduil greatly valued protocol and ceremony.

"He bears a message from the Lord Elrond of Imladris."

"Imladris? What business does Imladris have with us mere wood-Elves? The lower of their kindred, who spend their days whispering to trees, eating, drinking, and making merry?" The Elf retorted, undaunted by the powerful appearance of the other.

His companion tightened the pressure over the other's wrists, causing him to wince, before letting go all of a sudden. Nodding at the stranger in recognition, a faint ironic smile flickered across his face. He pushed open the doors of the palace and strode inside. The shorter Elf followed suit, rushing to keep pace with him, questions already being asked.

Glorfindel turned and looked at his guide, mind abuzz with questions. He received an amused smile in return. "Do not bother about them. They are both barely grown, and we are accustomed to their antics. Do not mind their abruptness. They do not mean to be impolite." He did not explain any further, and Glorfindel dismounted, following him into the palace, leaving his horse waiting outside.

He was led to a waiting room deep within the bowels of the palace and told to wait for an audience with the King. Alone, he sat on the luxurious chair, eyes sweeping the lavish interior of the palace.

He turned about instinctively at a slight rustling. It was the smaller Elf that he had seen earlier on at the palace gates. He carried a tray with a goblet of wine. Placing the tray down on the side-table, he smiled cheerfully at Glorfindel.

"A drink, my lord? You came all the way from Imladris? I wish I could set my eyes on that place, for I am told that the house of the Half-Elven is more beautiful than anything. That, coupled with the woods of Lórien, are true wonders of Middle-Earth."

"There is much left for you to see in this world, my young friend. Do not be in such a hurry to see it all. There are many things that would chill your heart. I think then you would wish you were safe at home within the confines of Eryn Galen!"

The Elf smiled mischievously. He fell silent, however, and sat down in one of the chairs, deep in thought. It struck Glorfindel as curious. Servants usually did not treat palaces with such flippancy.

The doors to the throne room opened. A member of the Royal Guard stepped out. He walked up to Glorfindel, and bowed low.

"His Majesty is ready to see the messenger of Lord Elrond."

Glorfindel got up, and nodded to the other. He looked back at the servant, who gave him a wink.

"Do mind your words, my lord, for His Majesty would surely not be in the best of moods!"

The Elflord frowned at the odd comment. He had little time to think about it though, and walked through the doors, into the room where Thranduil, the great king of the Woods sat.

*****

A/N: I have taken some artistic license with what Thranduil's palace was actually like. While in The Hobbit, Thranduil's halls are said to be underground, there is no record as to when the Silvan folk started living in the caves. How they came to live in the caverns are chronicled later in this story.

The messenger of Elrond entered the great throne room where a powerful looking Elf with flowing blonde tresses sat upon an elaborate throne decorated with jewels. It was wrought from a precious metal that Glorfindel could not name.

The King had a weary look on his face. Lines of sorrow and worry were etched on the fair, usually smooth countenance. Glorfindel was amazed by the eternal gracefulness that emanated from the Elf.

He walked up to face the throne, saluting the leader in the manner of the High Lords of Imladris.

"Your Majesty, the Lord Elrond of Imladris wishes to express his regret in not meeting you personally. He has been kept busy by the goings-on in the world. The message he wishes to convey, however, is exigent."

He spoke tentatively in the Nandorin dialect of the Silvan Elves.

Thranduil returned the greeting, and signalled for his Guard to leave.

"Speak, my friend, for you have travelled far."

Glorfindel noted that he replied in Sindarin, and so taking in a deep breath, he started to speak.

"My lord, it has come our notice that darkness has been steadily creeping back into the world. My lord wishes to warn his kindred about the threat that is slowly making its presence felt in the nebulous places of the world."

Thranduil sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He leaned back in his throne, and sank into his private thoughts.

Glorfindel stood there uneasily. He did not dare to press on further. His news clearly had not come as a surprise. It was not something the Lord Elrond had not expected. The news he bore was more of a confirmation, than a warning.

"The Lord Elrond wishes it that a meeting be arranged to discuss the latest turn of events."

He was cut off by a wave of the hand.

"Even though our relations do not run deep, our two kingdoms have always been allies. Even if this may seem like rude and abrupt to do so, I fear I have neither the time nor the resources to spare. Lord Elrond would understand. I intend to send somebody in my place. He would have much knowledge about the situation. I pray you, to let me a few days to prepare my messenger, who would then venture with you back to Imladris."

Glorfindel was taken aback. He had not expected such an outward decline from the King.

"Mithrandir would be present."

Thranduil looked up sharply. The latest news was clearly something he was interested in. He nodded mutely and motioned with his hands.

The doors opened, and the Hunter-Elf Glorfindel had earlier seen slipped through them soundlessly. The High-Lord observed the fluidity and the gracefulness of his movements.

The Hunter bowed before the King, the firm look of determination and strain frozen upon his face.

"Your Majesty." The words that came out of his mouth were cold and hard, and there was no hiding the hardness in his eyes.

The King gestured towards Glorfindel. "This is Glorfindel, a guest from Imladris. See to it that he is well taken care off."

The hunter Elf bowed again. Showing Glorfindel the way, both took leave of the King.

***

Once outside the throne room, the Hunter sighed. He turned towards his guest. A brief smile flitted across his face, lighting up his features, betraying his young age. It disappeared after the shortest of times, and he motioned for Glorfindel to follow him.

"I apologise for the rudeness of my King. He has plenty on his mind." His voice was musical, but there was a certain edge to it, and the Elflord grew more puzzled as he was led through the palace, seeing the reverent looks bestowed upon him by servants who passed them by, and the sincere smiles that lit up his face time and again as he recognised a butler here and a guard there.

Upon reaching the guest chambers, the host threw open the great doors. The interior of the rooms was more beautiful than expected. The furniture was made of living vegetation, very much in the style of the houses he had seen earlier on in the day, though far more resplendent.

"I leave you to inspect your quarters. A servant will be assigned to take care of your needs. Do not hesitate to voice any requests. Your horse has been taken care of. I would be glad to bring you on a tour of our Kingdom later in the day. I expect you will be here quite a while, for the King would take his time."

"There is much to see in my Kingdom. I trust that your time here will not be wasted."

Glorfindel thanked his host graciously, and was left to marvel at the beauty of his room. He had barely done admiring the mirror made from stardust, when a knock on the door brought him out from his trance.

A head peered into the room, and he recognised the servant he had seen earlier on the steps of the palace.

He motioned for the Elf to come in.

"Is everything in order, my lord?" The smile in his eyes was clear. "I will be accompanying you on your tour of Eryn Galen later, and I expect tales of your home in return for this favour which we have bestowed upon you."

Glorfindel smiled warmly at the young Elf. He was full of the exuberance of youth and had an affable nature.

"I would gladly do that. I could even tell you stories of my adventures, for it seems that it would attract your fancy."

The servant bowed low. His movements playful and exaggerated. Glorfindel understood the earlier comment by the Elf who had accompanied him to the palace. The servant was clearly very young. "I thank you, my kind and distinguished visitor. For now, however, my Master has requested to bring you on a quick walk around the forest. I trust you would find that Eryn Galen is as beautiful as the songs we sing about it promise. There is much to be seen, and honoured to show them to you, I would be."

Glorfindel laughed. The ripples of energy emanating from the young one made him feel youthful once again. It reminded him of why he liked to keep the company of his younger kindred. They had much love to spare, and an enthusiasm that the older of their kind sometimes lost with the passing of millennia.

"If the songs are anything to go by, I am sure your King would have to keep me here for years, ere I be able to even come close to seeing everything in this blessed realm of yours. How you came to be known as Moriquendi puzzles me, for it seems that your people have clearly the joy of living among trees as beautiful as these."

"Ai, my friend. We are indeed blessed by the Valar. Eryn Galen is a place of profound beauty. I find much to marvel at as the days go by. Even though I have lived here the whole of my life, new discoveries come to me with each breaking of dawn. It is delightful indeed, and the greatness of the woods teach us many things."

"And I would love to learn of this from you. Learning is not only limited to the younger, and that is something you should remember." Glorfindel nodded at the young Elf.

The Elf grinned. A look of seriousness broke on his face suddenly, startling the other.

"Were you received by His Majesty in a brusque manner?" he said.

"Nay, I was treated with respect and dignity. Why ask you such a question?"

"And my friend? Was he rude to you?"

Glorfindel was taken aback by the urgency and worry in the other's voice.

"No. He was a gracious host. He offered to show me around the kingdom. There were things on his mind, but he did not let it affect his treatment of his guest."

"That is a relief."

"How so?"

"Both of them often disagree with one another, and I was worried their latest dispute might affect their treatment of a distinguished guest! Father and son do not get along well!"

"Lord Elrond. To what do we owe this visit?" the leader of the Istari welcomed the high Lord of Imladris.

Elrond bowed low. He had deep respect for Curunír the White, a man of great wisdom, and a powerful ally. Present events concerned him enough to be forced to consult with the Istari. The person he sought however, was not the head of their order.

"I need to speak to Mithrandir." Elrond dispensed with all formalities and was straight to the point.

Saruman frowned. It bothered him that the Elf decide to seek council with Gandalf the Grey, who held a lower position. He brushed aside the feeling of annoyance quickly ere it become obvious. Gandalf was always closer to the other races. He did not have as big a following among Men compared to Saruman.

"Gandalf has been gone for a few days. He did not say to where he was heading. He would be back, however, ere Midsummer's Eve. He has to be around in order we conclude the Amon-thrul," Saruman kept the tone of his voice neutral, the smile on his face, plastered.

The high Elf frowned, visibly upset.

"Has something cropped up that requires the urgent attention of the Istari? For it is not often that we find the Lord of Rivendell wandering the wastelands of the South on his own."

"When will Mithrandir return?"

Saruman the White shrugged. He was getting annoyed by Elrond's insistence on seeing Gandalf. Surely he could handle whatever matter the high Elf needed to discuss with Gandalf, for the head of the Istari had greater powers and knowledge that surpassed the rest of the wizards by far.

The Lord of Imladris sensed the latter's annoyance, and hesitated. He could not afford to offend Curunír. With all that was going on in the world, powerful allies were needed about them in order to keep the dark forces at bay.

He nodded politely. "I will wait then for his return. Pray let him know I sought him out."

Elrond took leave of Saruman. He could sense an resentment towards Mithrandir in him. He found it strange. If not for the other's high position, he would put it to jealousy and fear. He quickly shrugged the feeling off. Curunír was the greatest of the Istari. His allegiance was out of the question. Elrond chided himself for even thinking along that line. He was over-reacting. A result of having seen many things since the First Age that greatly hardened him.

He left the tower of Orthanc. The Istari had gathered for the Amon-thrul, a formal council. Held only when important matters were at hand, Elrond had been alerted to its commencement by Mithrandir himself. It was strange then that Mithrandir leave halfway in the middle of their council.

As he reached the perimeters of Isengard, his eyes lit up, as he saw a grey figure on a horse not five leagues away, riding hard towards the domain of Curunír. His keen eyes saw the old man pushing his horse to go faster.

Doubling his speed, he rushed towards the wizard and waited at the crossroads. As the rider drew near, he let out a shout.

"Mithrandir! Mithrandir! My heart soars with the eagles as I see you!" His clear voice carried over the distance as he cried with joy and relief.

The Grey Rider dug his heels in and reigned in the horse, drawing up to the Elf. A look of great happiness across his face. He leapt off the horse before it came to a standstill, displaying great dexterity for his apparent years.

"What would the Lord of Imladris be doing here in the wilderness?"

The two embraced as old friends. The old man was clad in robes of grey, hair floating gently with the light breeze. In his arm he held a long staff. The weapon of the Istari. There was a long sword strapped to his side. A sheen of perspiration covered his brow.

The Lord Elrond smiled. His immortal face was filled with happiness and relief to see him again.

"Pray, tell me, old friend, what is the reason for your leaving the beautiful realm of Imladris?"

"Mithrandir, evil is beginning to stir yet again in Middle-Earth. I seek your counsel. Your wisdom and powers would be much needed in the times to come."

"None that the Lord Elrond does not have," Gandalf said. There was worry in his voice despite the benign look upon his face. "Come, it is late in the day, and I have travelled over great distance. Let us take up residence in Isengard before anything be discussed. The Istari would be eager to hear what you have to say."

Elrond frowned. He did not feel comfortable discussing the matter openly in front of the others that made up the council. It was a delicate issue. One that could ill-afford to be mishandled. He only trusted the Grey Pilgrim to deal with it appropriately.

"Mithrandir, I would much prefer we discussed the matter in private. The fate of Middle-Earth may rest in our hands. If we do not act quickly, it would destroy all that we have fought so hard for. More innocent lives will be lost."

Gandalf nodded heavily, understanding what the other spoke off, and led his horse away from the dwelling of Isengard. Elrond followed suit.

The weight in the Elf's heart increased. Distracted by it, he did not scan the surroundings. Had he been more aware, he would have noted a pair of eyes watching from the tower of Orthanc, boring into the two as they wound their way through the surrounding forest.

***

It was nearing dusk, and the woods around them were alive with the sounds of its inhabitants readying themselves for the darker half of the day.

The two old friends walked leisurely, searching for a spot to spend the night. They moved silently, each caught up in their own thoughts.

They found a shallow cave, and took refuge in it, settling in for the night.

As the sun set, they sat in front of the burning ambers and talked at length. Elrond started with an update on the affairs of Imladris, of his people and their goings-on. Gandalf listened with great interest, for it had been years since he had visited the beautiful dwelling of the High-Elves. He smiled and encouraged the half-Elf, listening and absorbing all he could.

It was not long before the topic drifted to the matter at hand.

"Mithrandir, it has come to my notice, that an evil presence is making itself felt in Middle-Earth once more. I do not yet know the full nature of it, but its encroachment grows deeper with every passing day. Its source is elusive, but it has concerned me enough to send messengers to my kindred. I have even sent Glorfindel to the realm of Eryn Galen to warn King Thranduil, although I have a feeling that it would have been known to him earlier.

Gandalf nodded.

"Indeed, there is something foul creeping back into the world. It is for this reason that I have been away from Isengard. I have just held council the Lady Galadriel, for I knew she would have much knowledge in this.

"What I managed to find out is scarce, however. The Lady did not reveal much, and instead called for a meeting of the leaders of the respective leaders of the first-born. She was adamant that we include the Silvan Elves. Clearly it is a matter of grave importance. It is to be held on September the first, and will take place in Rivendell."

"I am glad the Lady is aware of such a disturbance. It lifts some of the weight from my heart. All we can do is to wait for the meeting. I fear I have kept you for too long already. The night is starting to fade, and you must return to the Amon-thrul, for your presence is surely needed."

Gandalf smiled kindly. "Nay, do not mind that. I have been gone for three days. Another night will not make a difference. They can do without me. Saruman is a wise leader. I do not think that my presence is of such importance that they will falter without it."

Elrond thanked the wizard appreciatively. Further discussion of the threat was made, and presently, all talk died down.

A long silence passed between the two old friends. The fire had started to fade and the ambers glowed red, lighting up the cave periodically. Gandalf sat and sucked on his pipe, eyes staring, but not seeing, worry etched in every line of his wizened face.

The Prince of Eryn Galen waited patiently at the gates of the palace. He had sent his friend to fetch the visitor, and was eager to show the wonders of his beloved forest to the visitor. Nothing was more invigorating than a leisurely stroll through the beeches. If anything, it would help take his mind off matters.

His old self. He missed the carefree days that seemed so far away. It had been a year since the terrible events had taken his brother away from them.

A little fawn wandered up to him, unafraid, curious, innocent. Legolas smiled. Love swelled in his heart as he beheld the bright eyes, the velvet nose moist with breath, the face lifted up to him.

He started singing softly to the little fawn, the words gentle and lyrical.

In a time when peace prevailed,
There lived a maiden fair as snow,
Her gentle touch she left behind,
As she moved through trees and vines.

The trees she called her brethren,
The birds she named her kin,
The beasts she termed her children,
The rivers she loved and cherished.

Wonder fills those who behold her,
Their hearts would burst with joy,
All sorrows vanish in the air,
As they regard the beauty before them.

O little one do not fret,
For she is said to come,
To those who need her the dearest,
And kiss all worries away.

Tears crept to his eyes as he finished the verse. There was much more to the song, but he could not bring himself to carry on. It was a song his mother used to sing to him when he was but a child. He found himself missing her dearly. Her wisdom, her strength, her love, her laughter.

The fawn walked up to him, and pressed its face on his open palms. It rubbed its body against him, and the prince felt a warm tingling sensation spread itself from the little beast's affections. It spread out like a undulating wave, pulsing through his body. The weariness and sorrow poured away from his body, and he felt whole again.

Such was the magic of the woods. It was difficult for others to understand. The magic was not made by the Silvan Elves, but given to them by the forest itself. One had only to learn to listen to it.

The Sindarin prince knelt down and continued to stroke the animal. He rubbed his face against the soft fur, and poured his heart out to it, channelling his wonder and amazement at the world into the little creature. His anger and grief dissipated like smoke. He was always at home with animals. They had come to him like to no other, and he could communicate with them well. One of his many gifts, and one that he had always put to mischief. But now, he found it soothing. The touch of the animal was invigorating to his senses.

He spoke soothingly to the fawn. The words came out in a low undertone, and the fawn continued its affectionate rubbing against him. He laughed, the song-like quality of his tongue blending in perfectly with the soft rustling of trees.

Legolas became aware of his approaching friend and the visitor, but he did not look up. They were standing in front of him, watching him, but were ignored. All that mattered was the love of the creature that was making its way into his very being.

After a long while, he kissed the wet, soft nose, and bid the fawn farewell. It walked away reluctantly, turning back from time to time to look at him, as he spoke faint words of farewell and promise.

When it had disappeared from sight, he turned and looked at the other two. Wonder and amazement was written across the face of the high-Elf, and there was love on the face of his friend. Esendri too, had a gift with animals.

"My apologies for keeping you waiting, Lord Glorfindel. The forest offers many distractions. Do forgive me."

Esendri beamed at his master. "Ai, my dear friend, for it is not our place to hold a grudge against a Sindarin prince!"

"Mighty I am, so therefore take heed then from your own words, or I shall see to it that the birds of prey find their next meal in you!" Legolas laughed back, "I need not abase myself to ask for your forgiveness, and it is instead, to our esteemed visitor that my apologies are directed at." He made a little bow in the direction of the Elflord.

"Do not worry, my dear prince, for I have time aplenty. From what your friend has said, I doubt your father would reach a decision soon. And it seems that I am stuck with the two of you till that time comes."

"I would prefer it if you spoke not of my title. It brings with it many things that I wish were not so. Please! Let speak with each other instead as brothers should!"

Glorfindel chuckled at the thought of referred to on the same level as an Elf who was many folds younger than him.

"If you wish, Legolas! Ai, I have never been spoken to like this for a long time. My heart greatly appreciates the openness shown towards me. Many questions that need answering plague my mind, and I hope you do not mind my inquisitiveness."

"Ask all you need to, Glorfindel, for we have time aplenty," Esendri replied. He smiled, his cheery face lighting up. He dragged Glorfindel along by his arm away from the Palace grounds. "Please, let us get away from the stifling palace! Perhaps a meal in the prince's quarters would suffice?"

Glorfindel nodded, surprised that the prince did not stay within the palace grounds. He turned his head to ask a question, only to find himself being pushed along by the young prince. Resistance was futile, and the two young Elves led him out of the palace, though a series of narrow paths that wound away from the main hustle of the dwellings.

He was brought to a place that exploded with life. Beeches and Elms grew in abundance, birds flew from branch to branch, unafraid of the intruders. Bees and butterflies proceeded on their daily job of collecting nectar.

They came to a silver ladder which hung from the trees, and Esendri ran lightly up it. Glorfindel followed suit, and found himself facing the magnificent façade of a house. Built up in the trees, it was like some of the other he had seen earlier, but its beauty and splendour outshone everything else. It was not brazenly ornate like the palace had been, but subtle and intricate. Little vines with flowers attached ran all over the house. The patterns that they wrought were beautiful and alive. Given free hand to grow as they pleased, they filled the spaces in the vicinity with vigour.

Beautiful curtains made from plant material resembling silk were hung in the open arch leading into the house billowed as the wind blew gently, filling the air with expectancy and promise. Glorfindel laughed out loud upon seeing the house.

"Welcome to my humble abode. I hope you do not find it untidy, as my servant has neglected his duties." Legolas said, having followed them up the ladder.

Esendri coloured, and led them into the house.

Once through the doorway, Glorfindel saw that the house was not an enclosed space and instead, opened up into the trees. There were many platforms woven from the branches of trees, connected together by silver rope ladders and the vines. Some platforms were simple and opened to the sky, others enclosed. Some were empty spaces, with squirrels and small animals scampering about, while others had been shaped into little huts and rooms.

A thick perimeter grown from tree-trunks wound around the compound, protecting them against intruders. Save the hated axes of ten dozen Orcs, the prince's dwelling was safe and could not be breached.

It was so marvellous that Glorfindel stopped in his step and stared.

"Ai, the trees let you through. It shows you have an affinity with the earth that many do not possess."

The voice of the prince broke into his wondrous appreciation of the place.

"You managed to pass through the doors without any hindrance. The trees favour you," Esendri explained further.

Legolas smiled as he took in the sight of his dwelling. A shy flower moved slowly towards him, and intertwined itself in his flowing tresses. He tinkered and extradited his blonde hair from its grasp as if it were a common occurrence.

"Do you like it?" An unmistakable hint of pride leant itself into his voice.

"Indeed! I have never seen anything of the likes before. How came you across the skills to do it?"

"The trees are kind enough to share their secrets, and are willing to provide us with shelter from the elements. I did not command them, and instead, merely requested it of them."

"Now you see why my little Master chooses not to stay in the Palace grounds. Few have seen the insides of this dwelling, and you are lucky to have caught his liking enough to warrant an invitation!"

"Indeed I am fortunate, for it is something I shall remember for all eternity. There is much to be proud of. You display such skill with the earth for one as young as you are, Legolas Thranduilion. Do not throw your gift away, and use your talents well."

"Yes, indeed, my high-Lord. However, I believe my powers are nowhere near yours. After all, it is not everybody who can claim to have come back from the dead after slaying a Balrog."

Glorfindel stared at the prince. "You know much. Truly worthy of the Sindarin lineage." A new measure of respect crept into his eyes, as he surveyed the young Elf. His talents were raw, powerful and brimming with potential, clearly unexplored and underutilised yet.

"Enough of talking! I sense hunger! Let me serve a meal of such great splendour that you groan with your stomach bursting full of food!" Esendri cried.

"And is the prince himself going to be preparing this wonderful meal?" Glorfindel said.

"Alas! You have caught my weakness in too short a time. I am hopeless with all domestic chores! Let cooking be known as the bane of the prince for all it signifies!" Legolas laughed. "Leave the servant to do what he ought to be, and I shall show you to the Great Hall where we shall feast!"

The Great Hall in question was a splendid platform with radiant, sweet smelling flowers lining its perimeter. Rugs were thrown over the place, made from the finest silk, and plush cushions accompanied them. The tapestries were luxuriant and thick. Jasmine incense burned in various parts of the room.

The two sat and talked while waiting for Esendri, speaking about Eryn Galen in general, the animals and the trees.

Before long, Esendri returned with platters full of ripe fruit, nuts, breads and grains. He also carried with him goblets of wine. Legolas touched the floor and spoke soothingly, and vines sprung from the floor to form a low table in front of him. It was steady and firm, and the servant placed the dishes on top of the table.

"Just a little more of my magic, my friend," Legolas winked at Glorfindel's startled face.

"Forgive me, my esteemed visitor, for I have neglected my duties. What I have here is nowhere indicative of the usual feasts that we have, and I hope you will not judge my skills from such a lacklustre display of talent."

"Esendri, I believe the food that you have prepared is enough to make me dream about it for nights to come," Glorfindel said.

Legolas snorted into his wine glass, only to receive a sharp and annoyed glare from his servant.

"The blame is yours for not doing your work as you should. Why I keep you as my servant is quite beyond me. I should get another who actually does the most basic of chores!" Legolas said.

Esendri grinned and replied, "Too simple! If not for me, none would dare to stand up to you? Why, you would get so haughty that your head swell, and you will risk falling down with every step you take!"

The cheerful taunting and teasing continued throughout the meal, and Glorfindel enjoyed himself immensely. He soon felt his alertness fading, with the afternoon sun shining through the trees, and so excused himself. He had ridden out from Imladris non-stop for days, and was now feeling the strain. The servant leapt up and brought him back to his quarters within the palace grounds, and returned to find his master sprawled amidst the cushions, holding a tiny sapling and singing to himself softly.

He looked at the peaceful face of his master.

"Master, why the sudden change in your temperament?"

"It comes from partly that the Lord Elrond has been alerted to the situation. That has drained much of the worry from my heart."

Esendri shrugged. He knew Legolas was close to Elrond. While not entirely sure about its details, Esendri chose not to probe further.

"And your father?"

"I did not tell him about you knowing. It would have angered him further."

"I noticed you had a minor quarrel earlier this morning."

Legolas laughed. "Ai, it was the usual, about my choice of clothing."

"I knew it!" Esendri shouted triumphantly. "I knew His Majesty would have been upset to see you dressed so!"

"Yes, but it fails to bother me! I have been doing so for as long as I can remember! I do not understand his great love for ceremony. He chided me for not dressing as a prince should, but I am used to it, and my ears have gone numb with his many scoldings. Do you think it wrong for me to go around not acting like a prince?"

"You must understand that the hopes of your father are placed entirely upon you now. He will be naming you as Crown Prince soon, and you will have to behave yourself! I should have a fine time watching you acting like the fine little prince you were supposed to be!"

"Ai, my friend, do not mock me so! You know it is not in my heart to be a prince. Would you then trade places with me?"

"If so, the house would rot and fall apart, for with your poor house-keeping skills, surely the place would die from lack of attention!"

"That is too true! Perhaps I would have to find another to trade places with then!"

Esendri scowled. "You dare not!"

Legolas jumped up from his seat, only to have a wrist grabbed. He tried to untangle himself from the other's grasp, only to be met with more resistance, and the two ended up wrestling on the ground. They rolled around, each trying to get the upper hand. Esendri had gained much strength since the last time they fought, and the prince found himself having to fight hard to prevent himself from being held to the ground.

Their grunts and laughter filled the air, and finally, the impossible happened. Esendri, with a triumphant yell, pressed his master firmly to the ground and held him there, pinning his friend's body between his legs.

Legolas shouted and tried to kick him off, but to no avail.

"Your Highness is weak, I see," Esendri gloated. "What has made him so?"

Legolas struggled before finally giving up when it was evident his friend would not move. Letting all his strength go, he lay on the ground, limp as a rag-doll and stared at the trees above.

"Do what you want! You have won this round! I bravely await my fate!"

"You are good at pretending too, my lord," Esendri said. "That was for holding me to the ground with the knife the night before!"

He abruptly released his grip, and rolled over to the side.

The prince lay there however, and continued staring above him.

"I am indeed sorry, Esendri, for everything. Sorry for making you worry the past year, sorry for not letting you in on the truth. But I believe I have more than redeemed myself for letting you pin me down like a common ruffian. You could be stoned for treating a prince so!"

"Ai! Master, I would not be so certain about that. Who would believe that anybody could hold the Silvan prince to the ground? For is not so that your and skill are legendary?"

"Not so, Esendri, not anymore. You have surpassed me in areas where I have not been working at the past year. Being a prince has softened me. There are many trivial matters that take up my time, and I am too busy combing and braiding my hair for the next banquet to hone my skills!"

They both chuckled, and a long, peaceful silence passed between them, Legolas, lying on his back, staring at the trees. Esendri, sitting on the floor cross-legged, gazing at his master.

"Legolas, what worries me is your father's longing for you to produce an heir."

"He knows that it is not the way of our kind to force such a thing, but yet he wishes for it."

"You must understand that there are only the two of you left."

"And has he ever spared a thought for my feelings? That it is not simply a matter of turning to the nearest maiden and asking for her hand? At any rate, I am rather certain that I would end up scaring her off with my brusque behaviour!"

Esendri winked at Legolas. "The prince with poor manners? I doubt so. After all, it is widely known that you have caught the attention of many a maiden and page-boy without even consciously trying to. Who has failed to fall under your charms? What about Caeriel?"

There was no reply for a while, as the other contemplated his words.

"What about her?" Legolas asked defensively. "Surely you cannot have failed to notice that she has Lithroleah - "

"Lass, it is only natural that the two of them are closer, after your abandonment of us all. Do not read too much into it."

Before the prince could reply, however, voices were heard from the entrance of the house, and Esendri left to investigate.

He was back not a moment later. "My dear prince, it seems that you have pressing matters at hand. The King wishes an audience with you in his chambers, immediately."

Legolas grimaced. Getting up, he took his time as he walked down the ladders, out of his house. He rolled his eyes at Esendri. Esendri stifled a laugh. It was good that the messenger had left.

"Come with me, Esendri. It is time for you to have a hand in the matter as well!"

The servant reached over, giving his master's hand a tight, reassuring squeeze, as the both of them took their time and sauntered slowly through the forest back in the direction of the palace.

Yanark shivered. He had been called up to a meeting of the Orc commanders, chaired by the dark creature that led them. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, but he could not pinpoint the exact source.

The others surrounding him seemed to project his feelings too. They eyed one another suspiciously, and shifted nervously, eyes darting from spot to spot. Fear was what kept all of the mighty commanders of the Orcs in line, not loyalty.

Such powerful commanders in their time, they had been subdued one by one by the appearance of the dark creature Hkaradil. He had forced them into servitude, killing a great number of their kind effortlessly, squishing them like insects under his thumb.

His powers were great, able to move about swiftly in the day. It was whispered in the dark corners of caverns that he hailed from a race that had long been forgotten, even by the Elves.

The various commanders stopping their shifting about. Nervous fear gave way to full-blown terror. The creature had arrived.

Hkaradil appeared at the entrance of the cavern. He hissed, a satisfied sound escaping his lips, as he noted the fear present. He seemed to thrive on the fear and hatred of others, and the atmosphere seemed to invigorate him. His eyes swept the room, causing shivers to those he landed his frightful gaze upon.

"Good evening, gentlemen." His voice was low and guttural. Slinky and lazy, ugly.

In an instant, all the commanders threw themselves at his feet, moving as a collective group. Grovelling on the floor, they closed in on him, kissing the helms of his cloak, murmuring exalted phrases of praise. He nodded with satisfaction as he surveyed the scene.

"Enough!" he growled, and the Orcs were on their feet again. The total obedience that he enjoyed was evident. It made Yarnark feel sick as the scene unfolded before his mortified eyes.

"I did not call you here today to watch you lick my shoes! My purpose, is to let all know that the Elves have been alerted to our presence."

Gasps were heard and worried glances exchanged. A wave of uncertainty filled the chamber.

"Yes, indeed. One of your kind could not control his band of wild beasts, and they stomped out a clearing right in the heart of Greenwood."

"My lord, was that a wise thing to do?" a commander said, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"He was foolhardy indeed, and has been disposed of. However, we cannot be complacent. I have neither the faith nor the trust in your abilities, nor the believe that you would be able to defeat them."

He paused and waited for any grumblings and dissatisfaction. Hearing none, he continued.

"Neither can we be certain that the Elven prince would leave us alone. I led him, in a test of his prowess, on a hunt for five days. He chased me tirelessly, never stopping for a rest. Never once did I manage to shake him off completely. In the end, I led him straight to the clearing. It was through the foolhardiness of his friends, however, and by not my own powers that I managed to stop him from catching up with me."

The commanders exchanged surprised glances, having seen the skills of the creature firsthand. Surely none could match up to him! Least of all the prince, they had heard that he was but a boy.

"Indeed, the prince has the potential to destroy us all. He shall have to be watched. Perhaps he is the one mentioned in the prophecy. The one who will seek out the gem of Makleni."

If the commanders were offended, they masked their feelings well. They nodded differentially and paid close attention to the words of the creature they hated with all their twisted hearts.

"However, there is another that I would require you to survey. He could come in extremely useful to our plan. We need to use somebody of cunning, stealth and possesses skill beyond that of an ordinary fool of an Orc. Which of you would be ready for this?"

The question was rhetoric. Nobody answered, although each one secretly hoped for himself to be chosen.

"So. Nobody wants to volunteer for the task? Very well, I will choose the least pathetic from your stinking herd. I believe Yarnark would be up to the job."

A collective gasp rose up from the ranks. Yarnark was the most junior of the commanders. He had only been promoted recently. Slow and stupid, he stampeded through the forest like an ox on a rampage.

The creature watched their reaction with a sick satisfaction. His red eyes gleamed.

Yanark too was surprised by the choice. He was not popular among the commanders, having been appointed by Hkaradil himself. They looked upon him as having caught the unexpected favour of the creature that ruled them, and making use of that to come on board their elite ranks.

To tell the truth, the Orc himself did not see why he had the favour of their Master. Dense and sluggish, it made him nervous, to be so favoured by the dark lord, for surely there was more to the matter than met the eye. Yet, he did not possess the wit to work the problem out in his slow, stupid mind.

The rumblings gradually died down, and grudges were made and held in the hearts of those who resented being shunted aside for a raw newcomer who did not even deserve to be among their ranks.

Hkaradil grinned, showing rows of jagged teeth set in a powerful jaw.

"To the rest of you, I have a very important job. Keep those under you well within the confines of your fortress. Surely I do not have to tell you what happened to the last soldier who let his army into Greenwood for a stroll under the stars."

The commanders nodded their heads profusely, although they resented the reference to the stars they hated, but none of them present had any intention at all of breaching this thinly-veiled threat and finding out the consequences. They knew that death would have been the easier option and lightest sentence.

"Now, I would prefer you left me in the company of my chosen one. I have some very important and secret things to tell him. Information that had better not be spread around with the wind."

The Orcs threw themselves to the floor once again. Their fingers scrapping at the dirt, as they prostrated themselves, humbly asking for their leave. They crawled out of the cavern, and waited until they were long out of range before launching into a tirade against the creature. Even then, the outburst was cautious and contained, for they knew about the numerous spies their master possessed.

Meanwhile, back in the cavern, the unfortunate object of the creature's lavish affections was trembling in fright as he watched the rest leave. He could not help but feel once again that something was seriously wrong.

His master walked up to him, and put a hideous arm around him.

"Yanark, my friend. Why are you shivering so? Is it not an honour to be chosen for my special task?"

"Indeed, Master. I am deeply touched and pleasantly surprised that you have chosen me. After all, I am rather lacking in experience, to say the least." The words came out stiff and nervous.

"Ah. But you have hidden talents. Ones that even you are not aware of. You have strong powers that can make you a great leader of your kind!"

The Orc was surprised yet again. He had never considered himself special. All his life he had been downtrodden and looked upon as a useless piece of scum. He craved attention and to be somebody mighty. His master had just told him that he was.

A small smile broke on his ugly face. It stayed plastered there as he fantasised about being powerful and feared by all.

The creature grinned again, and the Orc did not catch the satisfied glint that came into his eyes. He was too busy thinking about the possibilities that had been laid out before him.

"Indeed, Yanark, my friend. You have in you the potential to do great things. Imagine all the commanders cowering at your feet. The way they did before me. Imagine being at the head of a powerful army, sweeping across Middle-Earth, with nothing able to stop you in your death march!"

The images played about in the head of the Orc. A tremendous amount of pride swelled up in his chest. The quaking stopped, and he smiled, a broader, wider smile.

"Thank you, Master. I owe you much." his voice was genuinely grateful and rang of pride and servitude at the same time.

"Very well. I trust you would not forget me when you become the supreme leader of all! I must be leaving you, as I do have better things to attend to. I will send a messenger to you on Mid-Summer's Eve with my instructions. Be on the lookout for him. Do not let anybody intercept it! Do you understand?"

And he was gone with the swish of a cloak, not waiting for the foolish and wretched creature to reply.

He felt bored, unchallenged. His thoughts wandered to the Elven prince. There lay the key. He was one that was worthy of standing up to him, if there were any walking upon the surface of Middle-Earth that threatened.

He would cherish and relish the day when it would come to that.

Legolas sighed and frowned at his friend. They were waiting outside the throne room, for the guard to let them in. It always annoyed him that he had to wait for permission to see his father.

Before he could open his mouth to make a remark, Glorfindel appeared behind them. The prince's face lit up as he saw the older Elf, his troubles temporarily forgotten.

He turned around and beamed sincerely. "Have you been summoned by my father too? It seems like he has reached a decision. That comes as a surprise!"

"Indeed, the King has sent for me, my fair prince. And think it is a good idea not to speak thusly in front of your father!"

"I try my best!" Legolas grinned ruefully. "Esendri can vouch for me!"

Glorfindel stifled a laugh as a member of the Home Guard stepped out from the throne room.

The Home Guard motioned for them to enter. He did not question Esendri as he walked in, as if the servant's presence was expected.

Legolas braced himself, and squared his shoulders. Taking in a deep breath, he reminded himself to remain calm. He thought darkly about how lucky Esendri was to not have a father, how lucky he was to be a servant. He wished again that they could switch places.

Chasing the thoughts from his mind, the prince maintained an expressionless face as he walked up to his father.

All three bowed low in front of the King sat upon his throne.

"Thank you, Glorfindel, for appearing at such short notice. I apologise for having disturbed your rest," Thranduil said.

"Your Majesty, a task is at hand, one that I was given to by my lord, and I have rested well. Many thanks for your concern."

Thranduil nodded in acknowledgement. His eyes drifted towards the servant. A frown leapt to his face.

"Father, Esendri is to follow me in the mission." Speaking quickly before he could be questioned, the prince's voice was quiet and determined.

To his surprise, Thranduil smiled.

"I did wonder when you would tell him. You have held up well. I expected you to yield long before. The strength in you is great, my son!"

Legolas blinked. It was the second time in past days that his father had praised him. He felt his confidence waver. His father was springing surprises on him with an alarming regularity, and that annoyed him. He caught the pride in the voice however, and fell silent. His brows furrowed as he contemplated the significance of the words.

"Thank you, Your Majesty, for allowing me to aid Master Legolas. He has been strained greatly by the circumstances. His Highness has been put through much, this past year, and there is only so much one can bear," Esendri said differentially, but his words were piercing.

"You are right, Esendri. But I did not invite you here to speak of how I treat my son. A report has arrived from my Hunters. They have found the Orcs that ravaged the trees in Eryn Galen."

An audible gasp broke its way out of Esendri's lips. The other two, however, had more subdued reactions. Legolas raised an eyebrow, struggling to maintain a polite look of interest that would not betray his eagerness to hear more while Glorfindel nodded with a puzzled furrow of the brows.

Legolas quickly filled him in on what had happened. He spoke of how it had come to the King's notice that Eryn Galen was being invaded, stealthily by a shadow. Of how he had tracked a dark creature for five days without rest, speeding through the forest. Of how it had ended abruptly in the clearing.

He finished speaking, and glanced at his father. The King was listening to him intently, an odd expression on his face. Longing, tenderness, and anger were all present. Legolas felt frightened for the first time as he beheld his father. The passing of his brother had changed the old Monarch in ways that were still incomprehensible.

The room was filled with silence. It clung on to their backs like excess water vapour after a storm, awkward and uncomfortable.

"Indeed, it is as my son has put it," Thranduil broke the hush. "I do not know any more myself than what he has spoken of. I do believe, that Lord Elrond would be able to aid us. Glorfindel was sent to inform us that he has been aware of a threat to Arda emerging beneath the boughs of Eryn Galen. A request was made of me to attend a council. I am told that Mithrandir's council will be sought. Sadly, I cannot leave my people. They need me. The threat will worsen. An attack on my people is imminent. In my place, I would be sending my son, Legolas, for he knows the circumstances better than any other."

The news did not come as any surprise to the three Elves present. It was only natural that the prince be sent in his place. They knew in their hearts that Thranduil had made a correct decision.

Legolas felt his heart soar. He would be leaving Eryn Galen. His heart longed greatly to see Imladris again. The name brought about a great sense of comfort that he could not find elsewhere. He would be meeting Elrond and the twins. Just thinking of the immortal face of the Elflord and the cheerful faces of his sons brought some form of relief to his tormented mind.

"Father, I must insist that Esendri accompany me. His friendship and advice would be required on this journey."

Thranduil considered the matter for a while, before nodding.

Legolas beamed delightedly at his friend. He had longed to show Esendri the beautiful realm for many years. The opportunity never came to chance before, and it now presented itself. There was even the possibility of meeting the great Mithrandir himself.

Esendri grinned back, and thanked the King gladly. He was happy to be given the honour. For the first time in his life, he was contributing to something of solemn and uttermost importance. Something that could determine the fate of his kingdom. It was a far cry from the past adventures that he had with his master. Those were just little escapades, in which they derived the most joy from annoying as many as could be. He felt grown-up, important, excited.

Glorfindel nodded. He could see that the King was wise. Letting Esendri go along on the journey was his way of keeping his son contented. Also, he knew that son's life would be fiercely and savagely guarded by the servant. Esendri would unhesitatingly sacrifice himself for his master, and he provided a great source of comfort and relief from his worries.

Thranduil surveyed the excited looks of both his son and the servant, so reminiscent of himself in his youth. Innocent. Ready to save the world. Ready to die for what he believed in. But a distant and wispy memory. He fought himself to keep from thinking how different things would have been if his older son were still around. Dwelling in the past would not help matters. His son had left him. There was to be no bringing him back.

"Father, what of the Orcs. They have been found?" Legolas abruptly recalled the earlier conversation.

"Indeed. A band of Hunters have found the Orcs. Dead."

"Dead?" The reply was incredulous. "How can that be so? I do not think the Hunters would attack them! What else in Eryn Galen is capable of killing a whole band of Orcs?"

"If you would hear me out, my son, the Hunters did not attack the Orcs. It was curious. Their bodies were found in another part of the forest. Throats all neatly slit. Eyes, staring open, full of horror and fear, surprised too, caught off-guard. No tracks were found, and the Orcs numbered about three dozen. It was unclear as to whom they served."

"Are you sure about the tracks, Father? Perhaps I should take a look?" His fair face was racked with uncertainty and anger, Legolas shook at the thought of the damage the trees suffered.

The King shook his head balefully. "I am sure, Legolas. The Hunters made a very thorough search of the place. They did not find even the slightest trace of a trail. It was as if the bodies had dropped out of the trees."

"Ai! Ai! The trees! Perhaps the killer carried the bodies and passed through the trees ere leaving them there!"

Thranduil looked up sharply. He had not considered that. The Hunters were too focused on searching the ground. It was a possibility worth considering.

"I would send my Hunters back. You must follow Lord Glorfindel back to Imladris. It is vital that you get there as soon as possible."

"And the bodies of the Orcs?"

"They have been returned to their people. The bodies have been brought over to the East. Whatever is done by their kindred to the bodies is beyond us. Hated they may be, they are still living creatures who deserve dignity in death."

Glorfindel was amazed by the words of the Elven King. He could not believe that an Elf would order the return of dead Orcs to their people. The two were archenemies. He viewed the King of the Silvan Elves with newfound respect in his eyes.

Legolas caught the look and gave Glorfindel a fleeting smile. That was his father, always so concerned with dignity and pride. His son felt that he went overboard at times, for Orcs were constantly at war with their own people. Still, he held his tongue, and showed no outward signs of disagreement.

"Is it possible that you leave tomorrow?" The question was directed at Glorfindel.

"Yes, my lord."

To his son, he commanded, "Prepare yourselves. Mithrandir and Elrond would be waiting. Perhaps a message could be sent by one of your birds. It would be polite to inform them of your coming."

The Silvan prince nodded at his father. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, and he wore a faraway expression on his eyes. His father recognised the glazed look and decided against speaking any further. It would be pointless, as his son's mind had wandered.

"Esendri, prepare two horses. Ensure that they are fleet and can bear you through the High Pass of the Misty Mountains, for that is the route you will be taking. Bring along an abundance of weapons, for as there is evil afoot. Food you would be able to procure along the way."

The small Elf nodded excitedly.

The King dismissed the three, and they left the room, each wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Once outside, Esendri turned to Glorfindel, "I am sorry we were not able to show you more of our home. It seems the King has decided haste is needed in this matter. Perhaps a visit when all of this is over is in order!"

"It is a regret that I share too, Esendri. There appears much that needs exploring. For indeed Eryn Galen is beautiful beyond anything I have ever imagined! However, our journey is imperative, and we should attempt to set off at dawn."

"Indeed. I am excited at the prospect of being able to set eyes upon the blessed realm. How long would the journey take?"

"The better half of a month, I would expect. It depends on the weather at the High Pass. The horses will be hard-pressed in the blizzard-like conditions which dominate the pass, rendering it virtually impassable in the winter."

"I think we should be back long before that, Glorfindel!"

"Do not speak too soon, my young friend!"

"Perhaps. An opinion, Master?"

The prince nodded absently at being addressed.

"Master?" Esendri enquired again, louder this time, "Is anything the matter?"

"Nay," Legolas muttered, still frowning, "Nothing."

Esendri marched over to his master, and slapped him playfully on the back. Legolas jumped, and grabbed Esendri's arm tightly. Esendri winced, and tried to pull clear. To his surprise, the prince let go.

"The trail," Legolas blurted out.

"Not again, Legolas! We are leaving tomorrow!" Esendri knew immediately what occupied the other's thoughts.

Legolas smiled at him, "Perhaps. But this cannot wait. Do the packing. I will be back on time!"

And with that, he turned and sped away after giving a wave to the amused high-Lord, not casting a second glance at his resigned servant.

Esendri knew it was no use arguing the matter with him. He recognised that all too familiar hard line in his master's face, the squaring of the jaw.

He sighed and looked at Glorfindel before watching the departing figure disappear into the trees, slipping easily from sight, blending into the surroundings.

The Prince of Eryn Galen entered his house. He ran deftly up the ropes into his room, to where his weapons were kept. Esendri had packed them away neatly as he always did. Legolas opened the drawers and pulled out his long hunting knife. He took off his shoes, and replaced them with more supple and versatile hunting boots.

He rummaged about, and found his cloak. It was woven from plant matter, and was especially soft, helping him to blend in further with the vegetation. Legolas flung it around his shoulders and fastened it.

Walking to the side of his bed, he picked up his longbow and newly-refilled quiver, strapping them across his back. Esendri had made it for him using the very best materials. The bow was light but difficult to draw, and the arrows were tipped with carbon, to give them a more deathly edge.

Standing with the familiar feeling of the bow on his back, Legolas felt more alive than ever. The thrill before going on a Hunt was coming back to him. His senses were heightened as he left the safety of his home.

Once outside, he looked up to the trees and gave out a loud, piercing whistle. The sound reverberated through the trees, and carried through the forest.

The prince stood there, motionless, waiting for a response. It was not long before a little bird flew towards him from the south. A beautiful wren, it had a long slender bill that was turned down, and a brown, luxurious coat. Its tail was short and upright, the chirps it made lyrical. It landed on the outstretched hand of the prince.

He started speaking to the bird softly. The words at first were in Nandorin, but gradually softened, chirps and squeaks taking its place, as he gave himself over to the ancient magic. Legolas had learned how to communicate with nature as a very young child.

After a while, Legolas smiled and thanked the bird. He released it high into the air, watching as it flew off into the trees. It paid well to have eyes and ears in the forest, the prince thought appreciatively to himself as he started off towards the south.

As he walked along the paths, he heard a soft rustling. Barely audible, his alert ears were able to pick up light footsteps, pacing themselves with his own. He smiled. Esendri had probably decided to tail his master when he should have been preparing for the journey.

Night was falling over Eryn Galen. Twilight beckoned, and darkness enveloped all in its embrace. It was Legolas' favourite time of the day. It was then that Life was at its most radiant. Birds flew overhead, singing as they settled in cosy nests for the night. Squirrels scampered. A faint hoot could be heard as Owls and night beasts awoke, ready to start on their hunts. A singular cricket chirped, and was gradually joined by its kindred, as they opened their throats to welcome the night.

The prince walked leisurely, immersing himself totally in the atmosphere that twilight brought. Flowers closed, bees returned to their hives. His step was light and soundless, as Legolas started to sing softly to himself, a song extolling the beauty of the world.

Despite the sounds of night slowly creeping into the forest, Legolas was still able to discern his stalker behind him. Esendri should have known that the prince would have detected his presence. However, Legolas did not want to spoil his fun just yet.

He pressed on, continuing to sing softly to himself. Moonlight started seeping in through the leaves of the trees. Casting its silvery glow onto the forest floor, it made the whole place seem ethereal.

A bat flew past, close to his head, screeching as it winged near and swooped away. Legolas laughed. The animals were his friends and this one was greeting him. Indeed, he would miss them on the coming trip to Imladris.

A long time elapsed before he reached the place described by the bird. He recognised it immediately. A foul stench that spoke of death and hated things still lingered. The trees were tense, and when he touched them, Legolas could feel the shivers that ran through them. He closed his eyes and let the feelings run through from them to him.

A brief image of a creature darker than Orcs flashed before his eyes. He reeled back and broke away from the tree. Pain coursed through him.

He saw the red eyes that ran with hatred, the twisted smile on its face as it slayed the Orcs one by one. Yet, he could not work out how this had come to be their final resting ground. A shiver ran down his spine.

Legolas hesitated. He thought for a while before leaping deftly up into the trees, eyes and ears on the alert, speaking softly to the tree, stroking its bark, trying to heal it with his magic. The trees had endured a nasty shock. He moved silently from tree to tree, trying to give out a soothing calm to each, attempting to repair the damage done.

It was up in the trees that he spotted the damaged leaves, wilted and flattened against the trunks. There were many broken small branches.

The prince moved quickly towards the area. Touching the branches, he could tell it was the way the creature had come by.

His suspicions confirmed, the Elf thought hard. The natural thing would be to follow the trail of broken branches and wilted leaves winding through the treetops.

The creature had chosen to come through the trees to test him. To assess his intelligence and abilities. It challenged him, daring the Elven prince to come up with his own theories. It was strange, to say the least. He had never before come across such an adversary. One that targeted him specifically and exclusively.

Legolas had known all along that the Orcs were killed for a reason. To attract him, and true enough, he had been drawn to the mystery like a bee to honey. Now that he was here, he waited. He slipped silently into a hiding spot within the trees, his back pressed against the trunk. The leaves leapt up to conceal him. Eyes sweeping the area, he waited, as patient as a cat, every muscle in his body alert.

He readied his bow and notched his arrow. The realisation hit him suddenly then, that perhaps it was the intention of the creature to draw him out again. Alone. A wave of uneasiness swept through him. He felt foolish suddenly. It was a good thing Esendri was here to help him.

Esendri. His thoughts snapped into place with alarming clarity. He had not heard any indication that his friend was still present. Had the Elf decided to turn back?

There was a sudden movement in the undergrowth beneath. He drew his bow, aiming at the spot where the rustling came from, careful not to shoot until he made sure of its identity.

Silence. The shadowy figure that he thought he could make out amidst the undergrowth had vanished. The prince blinked.

A sudden feeling of being watched swept over him as eyes bore into his skin. The direction from where they came, unknown.

The trees behind him shook suddenly, and a silent scream of warning erupted. He let loose his arrow. It flew off, embedding itself in a tree trunk further up. Already, another was stringed onto the bow, on the ready.

Legolas leapt to the tree his weapon had hit. Yanking out the arrow savagely, he sent waves of healing energy into the knobbed trunk.

His heart filled with remorse and self-loathing. He had harmed a tree.

There was more shifting in the trees.

"Esendri!" He called out, for he had recognised the presence this time as something familiar and close to his heart.

Shock filled his limbs, as found himself staring into a face of another.

"Caeriel?"

She was a distance from him. Motioning at him to follow her, she moved quickly with great speed and agility from tree to tree.

Strange emotions flooded the prince. He stood there, unable to move. She turned again and gestured again, the urgency in her movements clear.

Compelled by her distress, Legolas left the tree, and followed her quickly through the leaves.

She increased her pace, and they continued in this manner for a few minutes before she dropped to the forest ground, silent as a wraith, still on the alert.

Legolas followed suit. She was standing in the moonlight, the silver beams illuminating her face. It enhanced her features and the look of strong concern in them. Her face was partially hidden by the darkness, and gave it a mysterious feel.

Questions worked their way to his face, as he stood there, struck by her appearance. For once, he could not come up with words.

She walked up to him.

"Legolas. That creature. It was hunting you." Her voice was low and trembling.

He nodded mutely, eyes still fixed upon her face. Emotions swelled in him as he recalled what they had gone through together, and lamented that it was no longer to be so.

Caeriel closed in and took his hand.

"Legolas," she whispered.

"Why did you follow me?" He released himself gently from her grip, on the pretext of returning his arrow to his quiver and strapping his bow to his back. He did not trust himself to control his emotions any longer, and backed himself against a tree and sank to the ground.

"I waited at your house. I wished to speak with you, for my behaviour today left much to be desired. You seemed in a hurry, and I followed you here. The creature is evil, Legolas, and it wants you. I did not dare to call out, and so made the noise at the foot of your tree." Her tone was anxious and nervous, still unable to be certain of matters.

"Have you any idea what it was?"

She shook her head and knelt beside him.

"Do you not think then, that it was the creature that killed the Orcs?" she said.

The question surprised the Elven prince. "How came you to know about the Goblins?"

"A Hunter spoke to me of it. The rumour of trouble grows strong. The King cannot keep it secret much longer. This is what has been troubling you. Please forgive me, Legolas. I did not know it was this serious."

"Nay, it is I who should beg for your forgiveness, for being curt and abrupt. I apologise for any worry or hurt I have caused you."

She lifted a hand and pressed it softly against his lips. "Please. Speak no more of this matter. It is forgotten. Nothing you say can change the past." Tears flowed down her cheeks as she thought of what her friend must have gone through.

He took her hand in his own, removing it from his lips.

Caeriel looked up into the fair face of the prince. She saw hurt and anguish, love and loss. The numerous emotions made him look tired, but beautiful at the same time. She reached forward and stroked his cheek.

"Legolas. There is no need for you to hide in the shadows anymore. It is not like you to shirk from trials. We are here for you. As your friends, it would hurt us more than anything, to see that we have failed in our duty to protect you."

For once Legolas seemed to be listening. There was an internal struggle in him, one that she did not understand.

"I am sorry, Caeriel. For I leave tomorrow at daybreak," said Legolas awkwardly.

"So I have heard. It was my intention to bid you farewell. Much as I wish it were so, there is no place for me in your upcoming journey."

She moved forward and leaned into his body, hugging him, pulling him close to her. They stayed there for what seemed like eternity before Caeriel broke apart gently, in her hand she held a carved talisman.

"Lithroleah and I would like you to have this. We fear it will be a difficult one. Keep it close as a reminder of your friends."

She pressed the carving into his hand, and whispered, "Miss you, I will, Legolas."

And she was gone. A sudden realisation dawned on Legolas that she loved him. As a sister would a brother. And he knew that he returned her feelings. It explained why he had felt so guilty about pushing her away, about distancing himself from one so dear to his heart.

He stared down at the talisman. It was carved intricately but in a hurry. A joint gift from both herself and Lithroleah. He tucked it deep within his tunic, its weight against his bare chest a new source of comfort.

Rising from the ground, he stood and surveyed the spot where Caeriel had been just a moment ago, it had all been so surreal, like wisps of a dream.

"I will miss you too, gwathel " he whispered into the wind, as he turned and made his way back to where his duty beckoned.

*****
Sindarin Translations:
Gwathel - (sworn) sister

A/N: Legolas' native tongue is not Nandorin, as postulated by some, and is in fact Sindarin (FOTR). His family is of Sindarin origin, but his grandfather Oropher came to rule Eryn Galen and the Silvan Elves sometime in the 2nd Age. The details of how it happened are sketchy, but some interpret a falling-out with their Lorién kin.

Esendri wandered into the stables. He already knew which horses to choose for the journey. His master's steed would be a beautiful black mare. She was powerful and sleek, her black coat gleamed in the starlight that lit up the place. She whinnied as Esendri walked up to her.

The Elf picked up a brush, and started to stroke her with broad, strong movements. He teased her at the neck with his other hand, using his fingers to rub her up and down. He sang softly to her, a song about open meadows and fields.

"Nardawin, A favour is needed. Master Legolas asks for a ride to Imladris. Would you consent to bear him?" Elves knew that horses could never be tamed. Favours were asked, and they would never take a command. It was the way things were, for Elves and Men were not superior to other beasts. Instead, they existed as parts of a whole, and needed each other. Respect was vital in the relationship between them, a point that Men had yet to learn.

Nardawin rubbed her head affectionately against Esendri. She was Legolas' personal steed. Swift as the wind and more nimble than most stallions, she loved her master fiercely.

He cuddled her gently, and laughed as she nibbled on his hair affectionately in return. Her eyes were intelligent and understanding as he spoke soft words to her, and they glimmered with appreciation as Esendri fed her an apple.

He gave her a thorough run-down before leaving, and slipped into the adjacent stall.

The chestnut stallion snorted with delight upon seeing his master, and pawed the ground impatiently. Esendri beamed as he watched the horse flare its nostrils in delight, and was almost knocked over by the enthusiastic welcome. Lindral head-butted him affectionately, before allowing himself to be tickled under the chin.

Esendri placed an arm across the horse, pulling him close for a hug. He rubbed his cheek against the silky fur, laughing, as the mane tickled his face.

A soft cooing was heard in the stable next to him, and Nardawin's delighted whining filled the air.

Abandoning his own steed for a moment, he peered into the adjacent stall. He was greeted with the sight of Legolas being pressed against the stable wall by the over-affectionate mare. Legolas was laughing, while trying to free himself, pushing, without much avail, at the excited mare who had pinned him down against the wall.

"Indeed, tithen ernil, you have a way with females, do you not?"

"Do not be jealous, my friend. It is not your fault that you were born with jug-like ears!" the prince said in between struggling to work himself out from beneath the mare's strong affections.

Esendri turned back to Lindral, and fed him a handful of oats out of his pocket.

"Did you not find the Orcs?" he said as he stroked and groomed his stallion.

Legolas, having managed to writhe free of the mare, had been murmuring to her softly, and looked up at Esendri for a moment before speaking.

"Yes indeed. It was as I had suspected. The creature moved in through the trees. Leaves wilted and branches snapped where it had passed, destroying all that it came into contact with its cursed touch."

Esendri listened quietly, and waited for his master to continue for he was sure there would be more.

His patience was rewarded as Legolas started to speak again, "It did so to test me. I thought I felt its presence, but I am not sure."

"Caeriel followed me from my house. I had thought it was you initially, but it seems I have placed too much confidence in your concern for me!"

Esendri finished grooming his horse, and readied it for the journey ahead. Speaking soothingly, he opened the stable doors, leading the way, with Legolas following.

"So it is my fault, as I failed to protect you again!" Esendri exclaimed.

"Ai!" retorted Legolas.

Light was creeping back into Middle-Earth and the slumbering world started to reawaken. The two young Elves strolled through the grounds of the palace with their horses, enjoying their last moments within its safe confines, making their way to the front of the palace, where they would meet with their travelling companion.

"Perhaps so! Yet, you have not finished your story, and I am eager to hear more!" Esendri said.

"Do not hurry me! I followed Caeriel through the trees, away from the place. She told me then that our people have come to hear of the threat. My father cannot keep it hidden for any longer."

"She knows we are leaving?"

"Yes." Legolas let the sentence drift off as he recalled the words he had exchanged with the fair maiden.

Esendri did not probe further. His Master would tell him more if he wanted to.

"Then it is ever more exigent that we ride out to meet the Lord Elrond, for I feel an expectancy in the air. Something evil is about to strike. Misfortune is about to befall Greenwood."

"Indeed, Esendri. I feel it also. The trees whisper of nameless fears that they cannot describe. The creature is merely biding his time."

"You should be glad then that you will be returning to Imladris," Esendri said, attempting to probe his master for more information on the close relationship the Silvan prince shared with the Home of the half-Elven.

"It will be good to see Lord Elrond again."

"And the twins?" Esendri was not about to be deterred.

"'Twould be good to see them too, for it has been years since our last parting."

"And you have been in touch with them since your brother left?"

Legolas frowned at the edge in his voice. "Of course! Elrohir and Elladan are good friends of mine!"

Esendri was about to say that Caeriel and Lithroleah too were good friends, but thought the better of it.

"They have been supportive even from such a great distance." Legolas smiled, excited at the thought of seeing them again.

"That is good to know," Esendri could not help but feel put out.

"What is wrong, Sen?"

"You have been corresponding with them regularly?"

"I always have! And it is something you knew all along! What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Esendri muttered.

The arrival of Glorfindel halted the exchange.

"Good morning, my young friends. I hope you slept well, for the journey will be long and difficult."

Before either could reply, Thranduil emerged from the shadows.

"Adar!" Legolas exclaimed, surprised, not expecting his presence.

The other two bowed to the King.

Thranduil nodded his head curtly. There was tension on his face and his features were strained.

"Did you manage to explore the clearing?" he asked Legolas.

"Yes, father. I made my way there after leaving your chambers. It was as I expected. The creature carried the bodies of the Orcs through the trees. Its motivations for doing so yet are unclear." Doubt and uncertainty crept into his voice as he addressed his father.

Esendri tried to suppress a smile. The King had not asked if his son had taken matters into his own hands. It was a foregone conclusion that Legolas would take a look for himself.

"Our people have started to question this watchful peace. We can no longer hide the danger from them. Perhaps you should summon your council and discuss it openly with them. Even Milinral should be consulted."

"Perhaps. However, dawn is starting to break, and you should be on your way."

The three Elves agreed and mounted their horses. All rode bareback in the manner of Elves. Thranduil unexpectedly as he surveyed the two younger Elves, their faces lit up with trepidation. He saw the determination in his son, the devotion in his servant, and was enveloped by a fatherly longing and wistfulness.

A look of concern passed through his face. "The journey will not be easy. Stay alert for trouble, and do not go looking for it. Lord Elrond would protect you once you are within his borders, but be on the lookout before that!"

Legolas smiled in spite of himself. His father, the perpetual worrier.

The riders bode the King a final farewell before starting on their way. The King kept his eyes fixed on them as they passed through the palace grounds and disappeared into the forest. His son's words reverberated in his mind. Perhaps the time had come to let the people know.

Had he not been so preoccupied, he would have noted the soft rustle of trees as two figures slipped stealthily away.

*****
Sindarin Translation:
tithen ernil - little prince
adar - father

"Father! Father! Do come in! You'll catch the death of a cold!" the young lady's voice resonated above the noise of the storm.

The maiden sighed and ran out from the shelter of the wooden house to where her father was attempting to hastily collect the skins that he had hung out to dry earlier in the day. She carried a cloak, and draped it over her father as she reached him.

The rain did not relent in its fury, and instead seemed to beat down with a greater burst of energy. The daughter quickly helped her father gather up the skins.

"Alas! My skins!" the woodsman lamented as they entered the relative safety of their dwelling. "They are of no use now!"

"Do not worry, Father. I am sure they can be saved." She took off his cape, and hung it out to dry in front of the fireplace, and the skins followed suit. After that, she whipped out a dry cloth started to dry the drenched old man. He pulled off his boots wearily, and sunk down into the rickety armchair.

The old Hunter sighed heavily. He yet to reach three score, but his hair had already turned snowy-white. Deep wrinkles entrenched on his face like canals. His face was leathery, as one who was accustomed to the elements, and his formerly proud eyes were downcast. His movements were slow and strained, as age caught up with him; hands callused with labour and toil, joints stiff with wear and tear. Nearing his twilight years, he still had to work as hard as he was twenty, to support his tiny family.

The room was furnished simply. A roaring wooden fire was blazing in the fireplace, and a large pot with simmering contents hung over the dancing flames. Enticing fumes of pot roast wafted up from the food being cooked. A small dining table was set for two, ready for dinner. Coarse plates and cutlery were used, the terra cotta chipped at the rims, the colour long since faded. Curtains, threadbare and frail, hung sadly over the windows. The furniture was old and weathered, made by the woodsman in his prime. The armchair was the only exception. Bought at a market of fleas, it had been lugged through the forest by an ancient mule on the back of a broken cart. The journey had taken the better part of two days. It was the family's most prized possession. Even though the leather had long since lost its shine, the cushioning was still soft and comfortable.

In spite of the dilapidated condition of the house, it was spotlessly clean. The attentions of the girl had left the occupants of the room dust-free, and not a single cobweb was in sight.

She walked over to the pot with its contents hanging over the ambers and scooped ladles of pot roast. More aromatic smells drifted up and stimulated the olfactory senses of the old man. Gastric juices within his stomach turned it into a knot, and he got up and seated himself at the table.

"Father, do be careful! It is hot, you might scald yourself!" the young lady chided as she watched the old man wolf down his food.

"Yuvinel, don't worry! Some hot stew is not going to get the better of me!" the old man chuckled.

A sudden banging was heard on the door.

The maiden frowned. They never had visitors. Perhaps it was a traveller who needed a respite from the elements. She got up and headed towards the door.

"Open up! Open up in the name of the Lord Marnor!"

Both father and daughter paled. Yuvinel turned and stared at her father, uncertainty and fear in her eyes. The old man got up and walked to the door. He did not want his daughter to face the undoubtedly armed men outside.

He opened the door. The sight that greeted him chilled him to the bone. Flashes of lightning illuminated a group of soldiers of about two dozen. They were all stony-faced and grim. He recognised it as the look of men from a disciplined force mindlessly carrying out orders. Their long spears were cold and glinting, and their shields were pale and menacing.

"Gamlor, son of Gronlé! You are under arrest for refusal to obey orders!" the leader of the man dictated, his face an expressionless mask.

Gamlor trembled furiously upon hearing the words. The leader held out a pair of metal chains out in front of his face. The old woodsman collapsed to the floor, as if it was too much for him to take.

"We are under orders to take your daughter back with us too!" the leader continued, before stepping forward to clasp cold metal against flesh.

A sudden blow struck and hit his stomach causing him to double over, winded. Gamlor had launched himself at the leader with surprising agility and strength. The man gave out a loud cry, and his followers responded, leaping forward, trying to contain the man who seemed as if he had gone mad.

"Yuvinel! Flee! Flee!" the woodsman cried to his daughter as he held them back successfully.

The maiden stood still, rooted in horror, even though a few soldiers were making their way towards her.

"Run! Remember me, and avenge me!" the old man screamed, frenetic.

Yuvinel responded, stung by the urgency of his tone. Picking up the pot hanging over the fire, she threw it at those who had entered the house. They screamed in anger and pain as the hot contents splashed over them.

Making use of the diversion, the maiden fled through the back. Once outside, the full force of the rain hit her. Raindrops flung themselves upon her with unrelenting fury as she ran through the woods she knew so well. Her mind was numb with confusion and the cold. The shouts of her pursuers faded slowly as they rapidly lost her trail in the labyrinth of trees.

On she ran, mindlessly. Thoughts ceased to come to her, and all she heard in her mind were the calls of her father. To run away. To avenge him. Avenge him.

The thunder crashed and set her eardrums ringing. The lightning flashed and lit up the trees. The environment which had previously been so inviting and invigorating to her suddenly seemed so hostile. Every root was out to trip her, every branch to fall and crush her.

The manic strength that drove her gradually gave way to fear. Muscles seized up and spasms worked their way through her body. The weariness enveloped her entire being, and she felt her legs give way. Rain continued to pour from the heavens as she passed into darkness.

*****
A/N: The (relatively small) forest mentioned in here is a figment of my imagination, which is separate from Eryn Galen. I would place it about 10 miles south of Beorn and just West of the Old Ford on the Anduin.

When the girl came to, the forest had changed dramatically. A fine mist hung in the air. The surroundings were still waterlogged, saturated, but bright rays of sunshine bore down, filtered by thin layers of leaves and moisture.

A sudden movement startled her as she struggled to recall the events of the past night.

Two grey eyes set in a small, open face were staring directly at her. Their owner was lean and had reddish-blonde hair, giving him a feisty look. It was worn lose, with ceremonial braids woven into them. She had never seen the likes of this stranger before. His features were odd to her eyes, unlike the Men she had grown accustomed to seeing in the marketplace of Beorn. They were delicate and pointed, and his cheekbones were high. There was also an absence of any facial hair, his face was smooth. He looked very young, like one who had not yet made it into manhood.

Upon closer examination, she saw that he was of a small physique, nimble and quick. He was dressed oddly, in green and brown. The material was plain, but the stitching of the clothes was fine and delicate. He smiled upon seeing the maiden awake, yet did not make any overt movements.

Three horses were grazing on the grass behind the Elf. The black beautiful mare caught her attention. Her fur was gleaming in the light, soft as pure silk. Strong muscles rippled as she moved.

The horses were clearly owned by nobles of some sort. Her stomach lurched. Nobles. They could be related to the Lord Marnor. She fought to keep the panic down. The stranger was still staring at her silently. He did not move a muscle, as if waiting. For what she did not know.

The stranger smiled once more, his face lighting up, this time directing it at something behind her. She whipped around and saw two of his companions walking in her direction, carrying with them flasks. She had not heard their approach, for they moved with such silence and surety in the forest. It unnerved her.

The two hardly paused when they saw her turning to face them. The younger of them smiled at her, and she was immediately struck by his beauty. He was lean but tall, and his lithe figure had a grace that Yuvinel never thought possible. He held his body with a regal air that made her think of royalty and nobility.

His face was fair as the morning sun, and his cheeks were set higher than that of his companion. His eyes were of a deep blue that mirrored the sky and the waters of the river, reminding her of a thousand pleasant things. She stared unabashedly at him, taking in the proud profile, the delicate nose, the beauty of his perfectly-formed lips.

A slight clearing of the throat started her out of her admiration. A faint colour crept into the cheeks of the object of her fascination. His handsome feature darkened as he shot a quick look at the one who coughed.

"You do not happen to be associated with the Lord Marnor, do you?" Yuvinel blurted out. She felt awkward and inadequate, and was suddenly aware of how shabby her clothes were.

"The Lord Marnor?" The fair features clouded over. His voice was low and lyrical, and it brought to mind trees whispering in the wind. It was comforting and soft, although a strange but pleasant accent played on his words.

He turned to look at his companion who had been standing silent behind him all this while. Yuvinel caught a sudden glimpse of his ear. A pointed ear. Elves.

She gasped. Relations between Men and Elves had grown cold in recent years. Only stories and rumour were heard about them. What she knew about the Elder Race was only through songs sung in the village inn.

"Forgive me. I did not know you were one of the first-born!" her voice was shaky and her eyes shone with fascination.

"Do not fret, my lady, for my kind has not walked among men for centuries," the small Elf said.

"What I am concerned with, is how a maiden such as yourself came to be in such a wild part of the world?" the fair Elf added.

"Father!" The events of the past night came crashing back to her in a rush. The wonderment of seeing the Elves had caused her to forget them. She leapt up.

Her arm was grabbed by the strong grip of another. She turned and found herself being swallowed by mesmerizing blue eyes, a look of concern and gentleness that suggested one who cared greatly.

"Evil is afoot in this forest. We came across men with hounds, searching among the trees. They are seeking you."

"Please, I beg you, let me go! They have taken him away!"

The Elf's face darkened. A wave of conflict swept through. Yuvinel felt a shiver run down her spine. She calmed down, however, as confidence returned to his face.

"Fret not, for we will aid you in locating your father."

"Perhaps a meal would give you the sustenance to chase the captors?" the small Elf interrupted.

Yuvinel nodded tentatively, eyes still fixed upon the blonde Elf's face, unsure of what else to do. Drawing courage from the look he gave her, she felt her body stop trembling. It was then that she noted that she was a strange cloak wrapped around her.

The Elf let go of his grip around her wrist. She blushed faintly and pulled the cloak tightly around her. It was so light and fluid that she had not noticed it draped around her initially. The morning air was chilly, and she was suddenly conscious of her tattered clothing.

"Would you care to join us? You have not had a meal for many hours," the small Elf said, trying to dispel her uneasiness.

"I am Esendri, and these are my companions, Legolas and Glorfindel." He motioned to the other two, who nodded politely in acknowledgement.

Legolas turned and spoke to the silent Elf in his own tongue. Yuvinel strained her ears, but his voice was so soft that she could barely make it out. Glorfindel frowned and replied back, a disquiet look flitting pass his face. Yuvinel noted that his raiment was different from the other two. Dressed in silver, his clothes were more ornate and resplendent. Esendri took the maiden's hand. He grinned as he sat her down at the foot of a tree and produced with a flourish an oddly shaped packet. He opened it once sure of her curiosity, beaming.

"Lembas, waybread of the Elves," he explained quietly as the other two continued their conversation. "Eat some, for it would give you strength."

Yuvinel picked up a flaky piece hesitatingly and placed it in her mouth. A taste unlike anything she had ever eaten before filled her mouth. It was strange, yet not unpleasant. She conversed with Esendri while the other two continued their debate. He managed to procure her name, and she of their origins.

The sun had swung high in the sky, and the maiden was anxious to start searching for her father. She spoke her desire to the Elves, who had sat down upon the grass, and were taking swigs out of their intricate flasks.

Legolas agreed and got up. Dusting himself, he walked over to the horses. Speaking quietly to them, he stroked the mane of the mare, cooing softly, and received an affectionate nibble on the ear in return.

"Nardawin has consented to bear you, Lady Yuvinel. However, our kindred do not ride with the saddles that you are accustomed to."

"Your concern is not misplaced, but I have never ridden a horse before." She was unashamed, and a quiet fire burned behind her dark eyes, as if daring the Elf to mock her.

To her relief and surprise, he did not show any sign of contempt. "Then ride with me, for it is a long way to your house."

"There is much to learn from the trees and the good beasts that inhabit a place," Esendri said, seeing the questions in her eyes.

Glorfindel stood up abruptly and walked over to the horses. His horse was larger than the other two, and had little bells running down its flanks. They tinkered as the horse moved towards his master, and the maiden noted with delight that they did not sound as ordinary bells, bringing to mind the rustling of falling leaves on an autumn's day.

"Come! We will begin our journey!" Glorfindel called and leapt up deftly on top of his horse. The stallion did not fidget, and seemed to read his master's mind and will. No words needed to be spoken, and Yuvinel wondered anew.

Legolas offered her his hand, and indicated to her that she mount his horse.

She blushed suddenly, remembering something. "Wouldn't it be inappropriate?"

All three Elves turned and looked at her, genuinely puzzled. They could not understand her reservation at riding with Legolas. He frowned and thought for a while.

"Inappropriate? I think not, Lady! Nardawin has given her consent! Worry not! She can easily bear the extra burden!"

Yuvinel laughed. Elves were so different from humans. Sensing no malice or threat in them, she consented willingly.

Aided by Legolas, the maiden swung herself onto Nardawin. Years of working with her father in the forest had given her some skill in movement. Once atop the horse, she marvelled at how still the beast kept. The Elf then leapt up and seated himself behind her. He leaned forward and spoke softly in her ear.

"Do not fret! Nardawin is gentle, and will neither jolt nor bolt. Relax, and enjoyment of the ride will come swiftly!"

The maiden nodded. She was afraid, but felt the hard chest of the Elf pressed against her, and was astonished by the warmth she felt reverberating from it. The Elf touched her shoulders gently.

"Place your hands on her mane. If you feel yourself getting unseated, lean back into me to regain your balance." His tone was guileless, and she obeyed his instructions obediently and appreciatively.

Yuvinel watched as Esendri cleared up the spot where they had rested a while ago, and carefully picked up the flask that Legolas had left behind.

Her mind drifted again to her father, and she felt her stomach knot in fear.

"We will find your father," Legolas murmured into her ear, reading her thoughts, "Once we come across the trail, we will turn hunters, and it would not be long ere you be reunited with him!"

Esendri mounted his horse, and Legolas moved off, leading the way.

Yuvinel gave a shriek of fear as Nardawin started walking.

Legolas turned and winked at Esendri. He was amused by how tense the maiden was. Esendri frowned and gave him an odd look. It spoke very clearly about his doubts and confusion about whether they should help the girl. It was so like Legolas to deviate from what they had set out to do. On the other hand, she needed help, and could not be abandoned.

The speed of the mare increased to a canter, and very soon they were tearing through the woods. Yuvinel clenched her eyes shut as they sped up, and grabbed on wildly to the horse's mane.

She felt cool hands wrap themselves around her own. They interlaced themselves with her own fingers, then slowly unclasped and released their grip on the long hair of the horse. She remembered his advice and leaned back. The body of the Elf was rock-solid and hard. She felt confidence flood back into her.

Her eyes opened tentatively and took in the surroundings. The horse knew exactly where to go without being told. The wind blew in her face, and she gradually gave herself in to the exhilarating feeling. A smile broke on her face, and she was soon enjoying the experience.

All worries faded from her mind as she recalled the confidence of the Elves, and felt the strength of Legolas behind her.

It was all too soon that the horses began to slow down progressively. She found herself recognising the forest around her as being near to her home. The Elves had not been wrong about locating her house.

She strained her eyes to look for the clearing she knew would burst into view in a few moments.

Nardawin came to a complete stop suddenly, and Esendri and Glorfindel drew abreast. Yuvinel turned and looked questioningly into the tightly drawn face of Legolas.

"What's the matter?" A cold knot of fear seized her stomach as she noted the same expressions on the faces of the other two.

The Elves did not answer, and seemed at a lost for words.

Yuvinel struggled to free herself. With a wild cry, she leapt off the horse and fell to the floor. Picking herself up, she ran in the direction that was her house.

She heard a sharp voice call out in an Elven tongue. A moment later, firm arms had wrapped themselves around her from behind, restraining her, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Esendri is right. We made a wrong turning. Let us leave at once!" Legolas whispered.

It was confirmation of the suspicion that grew in her mind. The Elves were hiding something from her. She struggled and thrashed convulsively in his grip, as if gone mad.

"Let go of me! I recognise my own home! Let go!" Her voice was hoarse from the strain she was exerting. The Elf was strong in spite of his appearance. She beat on him furiously, fists raining down on his arms as he tried to hold her still. It was due to his respect for her that he did not pick her up and carry her back towards the horses.

Esendri and Glorfindel dismounted and ran up to their friend.

Yuvinel went still suddenly. Tears streamed down her face. She was shivering and trembling. Legolas glanced at his companions, worried.

"Please. I beg of you! Let go!" she said, voice pleading.

The arms around her loosened their grip abruptly. She fell forward, but was steadied.

Legolas sighed. He closed his eyes and turned away. He did not have the heart to see the maiden discover what the Elves had seen. She was determined, and it was not his place to protect her.

His companions stood aside him, and Esendri placed a hand on his master's arm. Legolas did not look up, but the gaze of the other two were steady, eyes baleful and full of sorrow, as they watched the maiden run in the direction of her home. Or what was left of it.

The keen eyes of the Elf picked out the sight of an eagle soaring high above the clouds. He smiled. News.

His silver cloak glittering in the sun as he stood atop the hill, the Lord of Imladris pondered upon the unanswered questions. He had left Orthanc two days ago, and was on his way back to Imladris, where he would await the arrival of his messenger and the Silvan Elf representative. It was unlikely that King Thranduil himself attend the council, and he knew it was likely that the young prince would be sent in his father's place.

Elrond's smile widened as he saw the eagle go into a steep dive. His steed did not panic as the big bird drew near and landed next to the Elf.

"Greetings, Lord Elrond," The Eagle bowed in deference to the Elflord, "I am Obsiran, and bring tidings from Eryn Galen."

"You have travelled far, mellon-nîn. I thank you for bearing the news," Elrond said. He noted that the eagle was not yet full grown. Its wingspan had yet to reach twenty feet, and the feathers had not yet taken on the resplendent gold sheen of his kindred.

"Indeed I have flown many days, but it is with pleasure that I did so. The Prince of Eryn Galen wishes to convey the following message: he has set out from Eryn Galen not seven days ago, and with him were his friend, Esendri, and lord Glorfindel. Barring any extenuating circumstances, he should reach Imladris within twenty days."

Elrond laughed. "You bring joyful tidings, for my heart longs greatly to see Legolas again, for it has been too long since we parted! May I assume he is a friend of yours, for surely no eagle would consent to carry a message unless he is willing to."

"More than a friend, my lord. Prince Legolas saved me when I was but a nestling. I had fallen from the eyrie, and his sharp eyes spotted me amidst harsh rocks and stone. He picked me up and cared for me, nursing my broken bones, healing them with his magic. It was not long before I was well again."

"I knew not that Legolas possessed any magic! He has never mentioned it to me before!" the Elflord exclaimed, surprised at the revelation.

"He knows magic, and much more. Compassion and love are never far from his heart. He did not stop there, and instead, he bore me up and climbed the steep peak to return me to my family, risking his own life."

"Indeed. But that may come about to be his detriment one day! He is young and has yet to learn that kindness is not necessarily repaid. Compassion towards those who do not deserve it may yet lead to undesired outcomes. But I digress. What news of Eryn Galen?"

The eagle flapped his wings, anger creeping into his body.

"Orcs are starting to make their presence felt in Eryn Galen. Nine days ago the prince came across a clearing in the heart of the woods. The wounds were inflected by the axes of Orcs."

Elrond paled. While he had felt the threat, he had not expected it to be this serious.

"Orcs," he muttered, "They have neither the courage nor intelligence to launch such a strike against the trees. The wrath of the Silvan Elves would be great!"

"His Majesty has managed to keep the matter silent. Only a select few know of it. It has also come to the attention of my leader, Gilidan, that a creature has been stealthily bringing the Orcs under its control. What sort of creature it is, we do not know, but it appears to be of great evil and possess much power. We fear that if nothing is done to act against the assault on Eryn Galen, the Wood would be lost forever."

"Indeed you speak wisely, my friend, for your fears are not without basis. Once again, I thank you for the help you have rendered. It is imperative that I rush back to Imladris as soon as possible, for I believe Legolas will be arriving soon enough."

"That would be so under normal circumstances, my lord. However, if I read it correctly, the weather at the High Pass of the Misty Mountains is about to take a change for the worse. His Highness will be delayed, for the horses will not be able to make it through. I must warn Legolas. Something does not feel right about this; something is amiss."

Elrond raised an eyebrow. Eagles had senses sharper than that of Elves even, and it was not wise that their intuitions be ignored.

"Perhaps then, Obsiran, I should request an audience with your leader. Let it be known to him that there will be a council in Imladris on the first of September, and I will very much like to meet him after."

"I will gladly carry your message, Lord Elrond. Meanwhile, I have to take my leave. The hour grows late, and I have to reach the prince to prevent him from attempting the High Pass without due warning!"

With that, the big bird spread its wings and took off, circling once more around the hill, before disappearing from sight.

The Lord of Imladris stood and watched the bird of prey with a heavy heart. If his hunch were correct about the creature that had re-emerged from the shadow of the Withered Heath near Eryn Galen, it would soon come to the same days that plagued Middle-Earth while the Dark Lord had been in power.

He moved off, gradually working up his mount to a fast gallop. It was imperative that he return to Imladris as soon as possible. Mithrandir had promised to meet him again before the council to be held on September the first, and he had some research to do before that.

"What bothers you, Lithroleah, for it has been days since anything remotely resembling a smile has passed your face!" Caeriel said.

Their relationship had progressed much in the days since the prince was called to duty beside his father's side. Love had grown out of their friendship, and it was something they had gradually come to accept. Gone was the awkwardness that plagued the initial moments of the realisation of their feelings for each other.

"It is not something I can put my finger on, which troubles me so," he replied, face drawn into a tight knot. "It concerns the forewarnings that have been plaguing me ever since the Orcs attacked."

Caeriel's lip quivered. It had been long since Lithroleah had any premonitions. She had thought them gone for good.

"I know not their exact meaning, but their message is clear. Something terrible is about to befall Eryn Galen. A dark entity moves about in Shadow. I fear for the safety of those I hold dear to my heart."

The last sentence was directed as Caeriel, as he looked feelingly at her.

"It concerns Legolas most of all. The events will be centred around him. Great tribulations would be placed upon him, and we would be helpless and can only stand and cry out in fear. I have had many a dream of him. In them, he runs. He is running from something, something dark and strange, evil and foreign. He is afraid, and so alone. Happiness is not far away, but unattainable. There is so much pain and suffering."

Caeriel's lips trembled, and she gave a small cry. She reached forward and clasped the other's hands, bringing them closer to her.

"These dreams. Do you not think they will come true?"

"Once again, I know not. They come to me as I lie asleep, staring at the sky. My mind enters a different world, and they are presented to me as visions. I do not know if they speak the truth or serve to cloud the eye, for it is not unknown that they are wrong."

He frowned. It was as if the images were dancing in front of his face. The Elf was unsure if the reason for his visions was the guilt he felt. The guilt he felt at accepting the love of Caeriel. A love that rightly should have belonged to Legolas.

Before she could reply, a strange rustling was heard.

Lithroleah flung himself in front of Caeriel, a reflex action, his bow drawn and ready. Although they were still within the confines of Eryn Galen, caution was necessary. The King had dictated that the forest was under a threat.

There was silence. The sound was not made by anything that the Elves were familiar with. Caeriel put her arm on Lithroleah's shoulder. It was trembling.

The feeling swept over him with such a force that he was stunned. It spoke of danger making its way up toward them. He let loose an arrow, and the vibrations of the singing string carried up high, reflecting off the forest roof.

The powerful Elf rushed forward to the spot where his arrow had hit its mark. A large beast lay there, its centre pierced by the sharp tip of the arrow.

Caeriel ran up to join her friend. She gave a small cry as she saw the strange beast, the likes of which had never been seen in Eryn Galen before. It was so aberrant with what they knew about the forest that it left them stunned. Its eight long legs were so reminiscent of an arachnid that one would think it a giant spider.

Lithroleah was so preoccupied with examining the fallen beast that he did not notice the second dark creature that sidled up to his side. It slammed into him, attacking him with such a fury that he was pinned to the floor. He shouted to alert the Elf-maiden, as he was held there in a vice-like grip. Pale yellow eyes grinned malevolently at him, victorious and taunting.

The shout drew an immediate reaction from Caeriel. Brandishing the long knife she wore at her side, she hurled herself at the beast.

The monster released its grip on Lithroleah to ward off her attack. It seemed surprised at her strength and considerable skill. It had underestimated its opponent. Lithroleah swung his short sword up. It embedded itself in the flesh of the creature. It screamed loudly, the sound piercing through the woods, and turned its attention back to the Elf who was still on his back.

Pincers reached forward and attempted to inject its deadly poison into the Elf's throat. Lithroleah thrashed and squirmed convulsively, brandishing his sword wildly.

Caeriel renewed her attack on the spider-creature. With frenetic strength, she managed to get a stab on the creature's legs. Screaming in agony, the desire to pierce the throat of the Elf forgotten, it picked up the Elf maiden, without releasing the grip on the Elf pinned to the floor.

Lithroleah watched in horror as the creature hurled his maiden across the forest. He heard the sickening thud as she was slammed into a tree, saw with wide eyes as she slumped forward, a trickle of blood flowing from her head down her deathly pale face.

A hot wave seized him and he made a enormous effort to get the creature off him, but to no avail. Instead, the creature gave a satisfied grunt, and turned back to him.

This time, it did not attempt to gorge the Elf's throat out. Instead, it held him there, enjoying the moment as a cat does with its prey. Lithroleah squirmed and thrashed further, growing numb with his efforts to break free.

The creature leaned forward, with the slowness of one enjoying watching the last moments drain away from its enemy, lifting its pincers to the sky, ready to strike.

Lithroleah looked away, eyes fixed on the one he loved. He feverishly hoped that after his death, the creature would leave her alone. Hunters would find her and rescue her. Her wounds would heal. A great sense of loss and hopelessness welled up in him.

He waited for his death with a calmness that amazed himself. Seconds passed. It grew to a minute before the Elf looked up and found himself staring at a large sword embedded in the body of the creature.

He pushed forward, and the beast fell away, still frozen. Lithroleah leapt up and ran over to the fallen maiden. To his relief, she stirred but did not awake as he gently lifted her up and cradled her head in his arms.

Then, he looked up and was greeted by the sight of one clothed in a black robe, head hidden in the cowl, staring at the two Elves. Lithroleah watched as the man moved towards the bodies of the spider-like creatures, and poured something out of a bottle over the corpses. Lithroleah watched with wonderment as organic matter began to melt into liquid and disintegrated. A moment later, no trace of the bodies remained.

The man moved towards them, face still hidden, such that even the keen sight of the Elf was unable to discern an outline within the shadows where it remained.

An arm, pale like one unaccustomed to the sight of the sun, reached out and touched the forehead of the maiden.

"She'll live." His voice was coarse and rough.

Lithroleah managed to gain back some of the composure he had lost. "I know not how to thank you enough!"

The man waved his hand. "Do not speak of it again."

"May I know your name, my benefactor?"

A snort escaped the many layers of cloth. "You need not remember me."

He turned to leave. Lithroleah set Caeriel down on the floor gently and leapt after him. He blocked the path of the other, holding his arms out at his sides.

"I would not let you leave lest you give me a name!"

His persistence seemed to pay off. The man nodded, a bare shifting of black, and spoke again, "I see there is no deterring you. Very well, bring the lady and follow me."

Lithroleah thanked the stranger profusely and did as he was instructed.

The man lead him through the edge of Greenwood and into the open. It was territory that Lithroleah did not frequent, having only ventured there with Legolas to hunt Orcs that dwelt there.

His curiosity increased as he followed the silent man. Never had he heard of one who roamed among the trees in East Eryn Galen, cloaked in robes of black.

They came presently upon the rocky side of a hill. Lithroleah's eyes grew wide as he saw the man lift a large boulder that concealed a passageway, leading deep into the bowels of the hillside.

The stranger walked in, not turning to look behind him, and Lithroleah followed suit.

The cave was small and sparsely furnished, with a bare bed in a corner, and a fireplace. The man had not removed his cloak, and bent over a cauldron that stood, simmering over the flames.

Lithroleah placed Caeriel on the bed and wiped the blood off her face with his hand. He heaved a sigh of relief when he realised that her injuries were not life-threatening.

The man, having done with the cauldron, walked to a small cupboard and procured a vial. Walking over, he shoved the bottle impatiently at Lithroleah, and grunted, "Give your companion this to drink."

He then proceeded back to the cauldron and scooped its contents onto two plates. Motioning for Lithroleah to join him, he sat down at the table and started eating, still keeping his features concealed. Only his bright eyes were visible, reflecting the dancing flames.

Lithroleah accepted the bowl graciously.

"Elves may not like the food I eat, but it is still sufficient to keep one going," the man said in between mouthfuls, his tone heavily ironic.

Lithroleah nodded respectfully. There was no point in pushing his rescuer for answers.

They ate in silence, Lithroleah barely noticing the food, questions racing through his mind.

"Your friend is waking."

The Elf rushed over to the bed, abandoning his meal. As if on cue, Caeriel stirred and her eyelids fluttered open.

"Lithroleah! I thought you lost!" Colour started to creep back into her face. She sat up and looked around anxiously. Her eyes widened as she saw the interior of a cave, and frowned in confusion as they settled upon the stranger.

The recluse walked over to them.

"You have recovered now. Be off with you!" he commanded.

"But we still know not your name!" Lithroleah cried.

"I am known in this parts as Praneer the Hunter. Now that you have a name, never come looking for me again, for I would not hesitate to finish the job the creatures set out to do. Go!"

Lithroleah nodded, and helped the Elf-maiden off the bed. They turned to thank their saviour one last time before turning and leaving.

The pair walked in silence until they reached the confines of the great Wood. Each of them mulling over the strange events of the day.

Holding Lithroleah's hand, Caeriel's heart still fluttered as she thought of the beast holding him down, pincers ready to strike, ready to force the poison into him, to squeeze the life out of him. She shuddered involuntarily.

"Caeriel, how feel you?" Lithroleah paused to look the maiden up and down, as if checking her for any other injuries.

"Do not worry! The injury is not as severe as it seems! We both still walk the surface of the earth! Thank the Valar for that!"

Lithroleah smiled shakily. The experience had terrified him. The sense of helplessness and fear that had swept over him came back again.

"Did he not say what the creatures were?" Caeriel asked.

"Nay."

Hands clasped tightly, they walked in the direction of their homes.

It was Lithroleah who spoke next. "Should we report this incident to His Majesty? A proper investigation should be carried out. The creatures pose a real threat to our people. Yet I wonder, as Praneer seemed eager to be rid of the bodies. What could be his motivation?"

"I know not the answers. I wish Legolas were here. Surely he would tell us what to do!" Caeriel said.

Lithroleah looked up sharply. Caeriel's face was filled with a longing. The bile from rose in his throat. He fought down the feelings. Legolas was their friend.

"The Home Guard are alerted to the danger. If the intrusion persists, it will not stay in the dark for long."

Lithroleah kept his thoughts to himself. The dreams, the premonitions, the innocent lives that would be lost.

The sight of a fully clad Hunter crossing their path stopped them in their tracks. His clothes bore the insignia of the elite Home Guard, the very best there was. The Home Guard were rarely seen outside the palace. Thranduil was not sparing his best men in the defence of their kingdom.

Lithroleah made up his mind then. He would not report the issue to the King, and instead, would carry out his own investigation. He knew what he was up against, and the creatures did not. His dark features tightened. He did not understand the rationale behind his thinking, but a small voice whispered to him, telling him that the choice was the correct one.

***

Yanark grunted: it was a satisfied Orc that made his way back to the caves.

He came into view of the imposing structure, and his heart filled with satisfaction as he saw the sentries bow to him differentially. It did not matter that their eyes were full of barely masked hatred and jealousy. Fear, not respect or friendship drove them. He saw the fear in their bodies, the way they lowered their eyes.

His master appeared suddenly beside him, silent as a wraith. The dark lord had an ability to sneak up on his follows from behind as they complained and whined about him. This habit quickly put an end to all forms of verbal disagreement for good once news got out of what befell the unfortunate creatures.

"Well done, my young servant!" the creature said. His voice was soft and silky, and dripped with malevolence enough to freeze the spine of the most hardened warrior.

"It was an honour to carry out the task that you set for me, my lord!" the Orc replied, quaking in his boots.

"You displayed dexterity I would never have thought possible from so stupid a race like yours. Clearly you rise above the ranks of the common Orc."

"It was Your Greatness who came out with the plan. I merely was a pawn who carried it out!"

Hkaradil chuckled. It seemed to genuinely please his twisted heart.

"Yanark, my friend. I grow to like you more with each passing day! It is so wonderful that an Orc could manage to catch my fancy, do you not think?"

He gave the startled Orc no chance to reply, and continued, "The Elf is better than I thought! Just as the prince was."

"But Master, that was because he was saved by a meddling old fool! Just another few seconds and he would have been dead!"

A flash of anger rose in the creature. It was quickly covered by cool indifference and passed undetected by the bowed head. "Ah. But what use would he be, what purpose would he serve to us dead?"

Yanark knitted his brow, his brain sluggishly trying to search for an answer.

"You have much to learn, and I have much to impart. Like how my plan would unveil itself slowly to ensure its smooth execution. Like how I have to take an apprentice to help me in my quest."

Yanark looked up. Was it true that his master wanted him to be his student? He struggled to maintain a calm face as he listened to the creature who was to become his teacher.

The maiden felt her legs go weak as her eyes took in the sight spread out before her. Smoke rose lazily from the smouldering ruins of ashes; mocking, taunting.

Her eyes filled with tears of rage. She took a tentative step towards the ruins, swaying as she moved.

She saw a long spear that stuck out amid the rubble was discerned and emitted a gut-wrenching scream as her eyes fixed upon that of her father.

Legs gave way and the maiden fell forward. Strong arms wrapped around her limp form.

Her body was so depleted by the spectacle in front that Yuvinel could not find the strength to cry or speak.

Soft, comforting words were spoken in her ear but not registered. Mechanically, she turned around, soundlessly pressing her face into the hard chest of the Elf.

The arms maintained their hold, neither tightening nor releasing their grip, holding her upright, wrapped tightly around her frail body, a rock-solid presence.

The sobs started, the pent-up grief breaking out. She let out huge, racking sobs and little moans as she cried deep into the bosom of the Elf. Gentle hands stroked her hair. Delicate and sorrowful, soft words found their way into her heart.

A wave of energy emanating from the Elf passed into her body, filling her stone-cold limbs with intoxicating strength. The pulses came and went, each bringing about more relief. Yuvinel felt her sobs soften and eyelids grow heavy.

Esendri watched Legolas gently lay down the girl. His actions were slow and deliberate. There was sorrow in his eyes, and he lay down his cloak on the ground, before placing the girl upon it.

The two Silvan Elves stood and watched the maiden as she slept, thoughts racing through their confused heads.

Meanwhile, Glorfindel started towards the spear. He saw and recognised the magic being employed by his young friend, and was deeply impressed and concerned at the same time. His thoughts dwelt on the way the air around the prince filled with a sense of warmth and calmness. It was so strong in that the Elflord felt very afraid, for the raw potential was chilling.

It was clear to Glorfindel that the servant shared the same powers, for he had seen the brief linking between the two souls as the magic took its effect. They were both not aware of what they were capable of doing. The ability to comfort always went in hand with the ability to destroy. It was dangerous for one to have such a power, for paradoxically, good and evil are never separated. Glorfindel wondered anew at whether anyone else apart from Esendri knew about this magic. This worried him greatly, for such power could easily be manipulated by evil forces. Elrond had to see to it that the two young Elves were given proper guidance.

Glorfindel shuddered as he removed the head from the stake. He set it reverentially on the ground, wrapping it carefully in a piece of cloth.

Taking up a fallen sword, he started to dig in the soft earth. It yielded readily.

Esendri looked at his friend meaningfully. Legolas caught his look, and they moved out of earshot.

"Master, what are we to do?"

"The blame is entirely mine. Never should I have let her set eyes upon this scene!"

"Hush! Do not reproach yourself! The fault was not yours, for it is a matter of time ere she make this discovery!" Esendri's eyes drifted to the maiden and back, a curious light in them.

"You speak the truth, Esendri, I can not dispute that. Yet, my heart weeps for the maiden!"

"Lass, a warning about the maiden. She is of the race of Man. They form attachments easily, and their emotions are easily swayed. You treat her too much like one of our kindred. Your gesture would surely have undesirable effects!"

Legolas looked up sharply and grimaced. He had not given much thought to the matter.

"You employed the magic on her. What effects would that have? Surely this would have crossed your mind?"

The look of panic that crept into his master's face answered the question. Esendri sighed. Yet he could feel the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Ai, Master! How many times have I warned you? We are not used to dealings with Man and cannot pretend to comprehend them! You know too that the magic is unpredictable!"

Legolas took on a pitiful look, all the while knowing that his servant spoke the truth.

"Why did you not warn me about this?" "Had I the chance? Legolas, your impetuous nature must be checked! You mean well, that is true, but try to give matters more thought! Do not assume you would always have me by your side. The day will come when you will be on your own!"

Glorfindel approached the two cautiously. They were having a debate, with Esendri frowning as he rebuked his friend, Legolas looking every bit like the little child being reproached.

The Silvan prince looked up, glad for the distraction. He gave a small smile, one that had a shade of embarrassment which he tried to cover up.

"How now, my two friends? Are we to stay and help the maiden?" Glorfindel said, acting as if he did not notice anything amiss.

Esendri did not speak, and instead respectfully awaited his master's reply.

"We should stay behind till Lady Yuvinel has recovered from her grief and found a sanctuary," Legolas replied. He glanced at Esendri, waiting for an approval or debate.

"Do not view me thusly, Legolas, for the decision you make is the one I follow!" Esendri said, laughing upon seeing his face.

Legolas let out a weak laugh, and turned towards Glorfindel. "What do you think then, Glorfindel, for you are much wiser than the both of us put together!"

"Do not overestimate my judgmental abilities!" the Elflord said. His face turned serious as he continued, "I fear we will encounter something evil on our way to the High Pass. I know not what it is, but it seems imperative that we not linger! I have made my clear reservations about helping the girl, but I respect your decision."

The fair face of the prince took on a determined slant as he studied the ashes that stood before them. His eyes shifted to the freshly dug pile of earth that was the final resting ground of the woodsman.

"It is not in my nature to abandon one in such need, but we must not tarry."

His tone was so polite yet final that Glorfindel did not pursue the matter further. The Eldar noted the stoic face of the servant, and saw that he was not alone in feeling uneasy about their involvement.

The prince was the first to move, and he wandered off into the forest surrounding them, to give himself time to ponder the events, and to seek solace from the trees that he loved so much.

"You did well with the burial." said Esendri to Glorfindel heavily.

"I have had loads of practice," Glorfindel replied, his voice melancholic.

The forest had strangely fallen silent: the sounds of birdsong and animals scampering around conspicuously absent. It was as if a heavy blanket had been pulled over the forest, making the air feel saturated and stifling.

The Prince of Eryn Galen frowned. He had been so preoccupied that the change had escaped his attention - until now.

He walked towards a tree and leaned against it, and silenced his thoughts. His eyes continued to sweep the area, noting how there were no animals about. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

Calming his thoughts, he reached out to the tree he was propped against. A strong deluge of emotions came right back at him as the tree responded to his probing. He fell back at the flux that coursed through his body.

He shifted, sending calming waves, in a bid to get a less conflicting response.

Nothing. Legolas frowned and continued to probe further. The silence that followed seemed to be like an unseen hand choking the tree.

He made another effort, but it was to no avail. Legolas felt his heart grow heavy. It was as if the life had been completely sucked from the tree.

A sudden chill ran down his spine, as a belligerent presence seemed to come over the forest. Legolas gave out a loud gasp as he suddenly recalled his friends. Taking off like the wind, he raced back to the site where he had left his companions. He found Esendri and Glorfindel in defensive half-crouches, eyes sweeping about the area.

"I feel it also!" Esendri muttered softly as he sensed Legolas drawing near.

The two younger Elves strung their bows. Legolas moved swiftly to stand beside the sleeping girl.

His mind was racing in spite of the steady gait he maintained. Some sort of spell was being employed. He could neither feel life nor death, and the woods seemed to hang in a limbo.

Legolas was worried, for much of his strength and prowess in battle was derived from the comforting presence of life. Life sustained the Elf, and he was ill at ease when entering places that were devoid of it. Whatever was causing this sudden blanketing was not friendly. It was an enemy who knew his weakness.

His two companions fanned out, Glorfindel firmly clasping his sword in its scabbard, ready to draw it. Esendri moved to the side, bow still drawn. The trio thus formed a loose triangle, backs facing one another, with the horses in the middle.

Minutes slipped by, but the unearthly silence persisted. Having seen no sign of any hostile intent, the Elves slowly relaxed. Their drawn muscles, pumped full of adrenaline, slowly relaxed, and the tension seeped away from their minds.

"Lass, there seems not to be any bellicose intents."

The prince nodded and unnotched his arrow from the string, eyes still scouring the area. The sudden fleeting feeling of unease and malevolence experienced earlier had not returned.

Glorfindel did not share the optimism of his two younger companions. He knew what they had just experienced could only be achieved by a strong power. Evil or not, he was determined not to underestimate it.

Legolas did not leave his position beside the maiden, which earned him an irritated glance from Esendri.

Night was falling in the still woods. The trees appeared to be framed in a soft blue light, an unearthly glow about them.

Esendri got up from his resting position without a word and took off in search of rations.

The servant returned to find his master stretched out on the leafy floor, hands behind his head, looking up at the sky. His eyes had taken on a faraway look that Elves had when they rested their minds and bodies. Glorfindel had taken up the first watch, and sat quietly, back resting on a birch, eyes sweeping the area. He was edgy, as if waiting for something to happen.

Thrusting his water-skins upon the ground, the young Elf joined his companion. He opened up a piece of cloth, revealing many different fruits that he had just gathered. He proffered one to the older Elf who accepted gratefully.

"I think a fire will not be a wise!"

"Indeed, Esendri, for I cannot help not but feel that we are still under threat!"

Esendri paused for a moment and considered his words.

"Yes, we should be guard. Shall I take over the watch?"

"Legolas is exhausted!" Glorfindel said, motioning at the sleeping Elf.

"There is a great weight on his heart, and he has been worn out by events!"

Glorfindel considered his words and continued to gaze at the slumbering form of the prince at home among the organic matter.

"Do you believe he has other reasons for helping Yuvinel?" he asked, a touch of wryness in his voice.

Esendri let out a short laugh. "Legolas is helping her out of the genuine kindness of his heart! He has a fondness for mortals and feels an affinity for them that even I do not comprehend."

Glorfindel relaxed. It was a great load off his mind, for he had been worried about the young Elf forming attachments with the maiden.

"In that case, I would appreciate it greatly if you would relieve me, for I am indeed weary. The journey has been long, and we have much to cover yet."

Esendri smiled pleasantly and nodded. Elves usually needed little more than an hour of sleep to sustain them, for they were accustomed to sleepless nights spent roaming plains and gazing at the stars they loved so greatly. Glorfindel however, had travelled without rest from Imladris, and had barely recovered from that first journey before setting out again.

Scarcely minutes passed after the Elflord lay upon the forest ground did the creatures descend upon them like flies.

Lithroleah moved surreptitiously among the trees, trying to avoid detection.

A sudden movement in the undergrowth caused him to start, but he relaxed slowly as he saw a deer bolt, disappearing into the undergrowth.

He carried on. There would be time to enjoy the finer aspects of the forest later.

His legs took him to the edge of the forest. A little voice whispered in his mind, telling him to set out on this journey, urging him to seek out Praneer in spite of his earlier warnings.

Not even Caeriel knew of his decision to go looking for the hermit. He had excused himself from her company with an excuse of carrying out a task for the King, and thus found himself here.

Coming to the edge of the forest, he saw that the surrounding land was encompassed in darkness. The stars shone down, and the earth was basking in their beautiful light. Pausing to appreciate the sight, he felt his heart rise.

It did not take him long to reach the rocks that concealed the dwelling of the hermit. They were merely small hills that rose out of the land, a mere fraction of the Lonely Mountains that were rising so majestically to the East.

Lithroleah stood and sighed. The craggy features thrust high into the night sky, framed by the dancing orbs in the sky. A smile spread across the face of the Elf.

He heard a thump, and swung around.

Silence. He looked about warily. A sudden gust of wind caught him off guard, and he swayed uncertainly. Irritation welled up in him. It was unbecoming of an Elf to be so unnerved.

"I was clear enough the first time, wasn't I?" Lithroleah spun around, and a red flush rose in his cheeks as he faced the recluse. A new measure of respect crept into his heart. He had not heard the man coming down behind him.

"Excuse me, Praneer!" he said, with equanimity that surprised even himself. His voice was smooth and unrecognisable to his own ears. "Interminable premonitions have led me to this very place. I fear I will not rest well until they are obeyed!"

"You are lucky that I happen to have a predilection for you. Or you and your companion would have been killed by that awful beast" His voice as at the same time familiar and strange to Lithroleah.

"It is answers that I seek," Lithroleah said, and sensing no irritation in the other, pressed on, "I seek to find the truth about those creatures that attacked me; from whence they hail; about the threat to my home."

A derisive snort rose from within the cloak.

"Curiousity. A trait common among Elves. You are always wanting to increase your knowledge about Middle-Earth. Yet, the more you know, the colder you feel about Arda. What self-destruction! There are strange and dark things making their presence felt."

He produced a pipe from within the folds of his cloak and set the leaf within it burning. Lazy wisps of smoke rose up from it and encircled his cowl. Lithroleah did not respond, and instead waited respectfully for him to continue.

"Indeed, what were those creatures? Would it satisfy you if I told you that I know not the answers?"

"I do not know what to think. His Majesty grows more weary with each passing day."

"You know the King of Eryn Galen?" The other's tone had lost his steadiness, and seemed almost febrile with excitement.

"Ai!" Lithroleah answered, surprised by the change in the usually taciturn man.

The man paused and seemed to collect himself before proceeding.

"Do you know him well then?"

"Nay! I am too young to be associating with the King of Eryn Galen on intimate terms!" the Elf said. "It is his son, Prince Legolas, whom I count as being a friend."

"So, tell me. When did you first hear of the threat to Greenwood?"

"His Majesty made an announcement to our people. It seems to me, however, that he has known about it ere the start of spring."

Praneer nodded reflectively, and took another puff from his pipe.

"That is not surprising. For all his faults, Thranduil is a great king. I suppose his son knows of it as well." His voice was filled with irony and even carefully masked hatred.

Lithroleah looked up abruptly at his rescuer and nodded, unable to keep the curiousity out of his eyes.

"And the Prince. When did he find out about the threat?"

"That I cannot ascertain" Lithroleah stopped abruptly upon hearing the resentment creep into his voice. He was jealous; jealous of his friend. The suddenness of the feeling, and the intensity of it unnerved him.

The hermit waved his pipe and motioned for the Elf to carry on, as if sensing there was more to come.

"It is possible even his servant knew before we did!"

"His servant?"

"Ai, Legolas's aide and closest friend, Esendri."

"Indeed, that is something that I have never heard about! Thranduil has handled the situation in a disappointing manner. You have seen with your own eyes that the circumstances are more serious than a couple of Orcs ravaging some beeches."

"There does not seem to be anything that occurs without you knowing, Praneer! I do concur, however, that the state of affairs is alarming!"

"The creatures that attacked you were spiders, Elf! If you follow the train of thought, it would lead you to an obvious conclusion. And there are things much worse out there biding their time."

Lithroleah felt shivers run down to the base of his spine at the ominous prediction.

For the first time, Lithroleah felt that perhaps he had spoken too much with the man. Rational thought came to him all of a sudden, and he realised that he hardly knew the man. It was peculiar that he had even opened up to him.

He gave himself a mental shaking-down. He was being silly.

"Perhaps it is time you revealed more of yourself!"

Praneer grunted impatiently. "Trying to find out more about me? I am afraid I don't even know myself. I am an outcast: shunned, spurned, never belonging to any people. Neither Men nor Elves interest me. I am a Hunter and have lived in these parts for as long as I have been alive. Does that satisfy you, little Elfling?"

Lithroleah nodded vaguely. He was not satisfied with the explanation. It did not account for how the man had taken on the creatures with such skill not usually possessed by common Hunters. He decided to ask no more, and instead to consult with Caeriel.

As if reading his thoughts, the Hunter started speaking again. "Promise me you would not reveal this conversation to any."

"You have my word!" the Elf replied after a moment's hesitation.

The words had barely left his mouth before he realised that he was alone again, staring at the empty spot where the Hunter had been just moments before. The only clue to ascertain he had not been dreaming were the few ashes fallen from the pipe, staring up tauntingly in the face of the confused Elf.

The men walked through the forest, hearts beating wildly. Elves walked, grim-faced, on either side of them. It had been the first time they had set foot within the bounds of the enchanted forest. However, the circumstances were such that they could not find the spirit to admire the beauty around them.

It had been almost dark when the party had stumbled, fatigued and injured, finally coming within the confines of the Great Wood for shelter. They knew, from stories and ballads passed down through generations, that a great Elven King dwelt within the forest, and kept all good creatures that passed through it safe.

Not being familiar with the strange forest, they had staggered about wearily. It was not long before they were approached by the Elven Hunters. Dressed in greens and browns, the Elves slid right up and formed a tight circle around them, making escape impossible. It was only when they spoke did the party notice the sharp arrows slung and aimed at them. They were not surprised to be approached and accosted by the Elves in this manner. The Silvan folk were known to be brusque in their treatment of Man, for they did not trust them.

Their leader had stepped forward and identified them, asking for help. It was then that the Elves lowered their bows and offered to take them to see their King. They explained how they had to escort the Men for they could not decide on behalf of their king if the men were to be trusted. Desperate for shelter and relief, the party had agreed eagerly.

Healing salves were applied upon the injured, bringing quick relief. The mortals were amazed by the fast action of the medicines and rejuvenating effect of the draught given to them. It burned its way down to their stomachs, but brought with it such refreshing strength that they did not stop to catch their breaths, and so pushed on readily, keeping pace with their escorts.

They walked on for what seemed like ages before they came to a standstill. A messenger greeted the party. He spoke softly to the Hunters. Dressed differently, with a chain-mail shirt glimmering softly in the soft glow of starlight, he had a regal appearance, and his movement was fluid as flowing water.

The Elves spoke quietly among themselves. The Men strained their ears, while soft and rhapsodic utterances filled the air. They found their eyes shining with wonder as they listened. Lulled by the soulful rise and fall of the Elven language, the Men felt their eyelids drooping, and drifted away into the strange dreams of the woods.

***

In another part of the great forest, the King of the Silvan Elves nodded gravely upon being told of the new occurrence within the northern edge of his kingdom.

A small barn owl flew in and twittered briefly. Night had fallen, and only owls remained that could carry messages rapidly among the Elves, for the eagles had retired to their eyries.

He called for an interpreter, one who could at least partially understand the tiny bird's trills and whistles. Instinctively, the feeling welled up in him again, wishing that his younger son were around, for he alone could speak the language of the beasts and birds flawlessly.

Thranduil himself was not as comfortable among the sentient creatures of his realm as some of his people. While fair and just, ruling the forest well, he had not developed a close affinity with the earth. It came of having come ascended the throne so early in his life.

He half-listened as the interpreter started to speak, putting the bird's excited chirps into words.

"Our Hunters in the North of the forest came across a party of Men, numbering about two dozen. The leader told the Hunters that they had been attacked by Orcs and sought safety within the forest.

"The Hunters do not sense any deceit, although it is a strange tale they carry."

"Did the men not say from whence they came?" Thranduil asked.

The little owl started to hoot again.

"The information was not divulged to the messenger!"

The King nodded solemnly and indicated for the interpreter to carry on.

"The Hunters await your orders, Your Majesty!"

"Tell them to bring the Men as swiftly as the Forest River would carry them to the Palace. There is much more to this, I fear. I will speak to the Men personally!"

The bird gave a small hoot of assent, and took off, eager to deliver its message.

The interpreter took his leave of his King, leaving Thranduil feeling as lost and helpless as he had ever been.

Yuvinel was awoken abruptly by a jolt. Her eyes flew open and she sat up tersely. The soothing presence she felt earlier had totally dissipated.

Before coming to complete awareness, the maiden was aware that there was imminent danger to the company.

A loud cry pierced the air. Esendri had been alerted to the presence of the creatures. He sprung nimbly to his feet, drawing his bow and letting loose an arrow.

The sleeping Elves flew into action, Glorfindel with his sword, and Legolas piercing the air with a well-aimed arrow. Despite the danger, the maiden could not help but admire at the reflexes at the Elves. They moved with dexterity that she never believed possible.

Almost at once, Legolas was at her side, defending her as the dark bodies of the Orcs descended upon the party. Horses reared and shrilled, panicking at the sudden invasion, nostrils flaring with fear.

"Take this!" the prince shouted and shoved his long knife into her hand. He let loose another arrow before calling out for his mare. Nardawin responded, and fought her way to him. Arrow after arrow took down the Orcs who rose to attack her, and she soon stood by her Master.

Yuvinel wielded the long knife awkwardly as she tried to take down the creatures around her.

Meanwhile, Esendri and Glorfindel had taken on defensive positions, backs pressed against one another. They found themselves coming under attack from all fronts by the massive numbers of Orcs. Creature after creature fell upon the shower of arrows and the falling of the sword blade. The younger Elf kept half an eye out for his friend. It was with alarm that he saw the prince give his long knife to the maiden. Legolas's arrows were not of an infinite supply, and he had no other weapons, save a small dagger, once they ran out.

Esendri tried to make a break through the ranks of the invaders but to no avail. There was too many of them. He felt a strong sense of panic rush through him as he saw Legolas expending arrow after arrow.

Glorfindel sensed the other's panic. He was doing much better than the young Elf, having fought in tighter situations, and made use of the inertia of his sword strokes, coupled with the falling bodies of the Orcs to slowly push forward. He called for Esendri to move backwards, and the two moved as a unit, slowly but surely, towards Legolas.

Nardawin reached her master and brayed, fear completely overtaking her, while the other steeds reared and bolted. Legolas shouted for Yuvinel to mount the horse, and she obeyed.

A sharp whistle from Legolas was the signal the mare had been waiting for. Her shanks gleaming with sweat, the horse sprung into life, managing to break through the ranks of the attackers, stunning them, but not without sustaining a few injuries herself.

Legolas made use of the onslaught of the mare to mount an assault upon the previously unbreachable wall of creatures. Confused by the sudden turn of events, from being the attackers to the attacked, they panicked and were thrown into disarray. Some turned and fled, while others struck down their comrades in momentary panic.

The mare broke free of the foul creatures, but the same could not be said of her master. He had almost reached the perimeter of the attackers when the Orcs regrouped after the initial moment of chaos, and prevented him from escaping.

Carried away by the mare, Yuvinel could only look on helplessly at the Elf, under the threat of being swept off his feet by the hordes of Orcs. She tried to get the mare to turn back but to no avail. Legolas had given Nardawin strict orders to bear the maiden to safety.

***

Stuck in the middle of the screaming and hissing Orcs, Legolas felt a genuine rush of fear pass through him. He managed to maintain a metre's radius around him, using his arrows to shoot and stab any that came too near. His wits were kept about until he saw the black mare disappear into the trees. Then only did the vulnerability of his situation hit home.

The feelings refused to abate once they had arisen. He pushed himself to concentrate on the present, taking on the determined frown of a fighter. Yet the nagging feeling continued to plague him as he mindlessly slaughtered beast after beast, using his arrows as a knife in a pitiful effort to get them to last longer.

His lapse in concentration was paid by a sudden stinging pain to his right thigh. He cried out in pain and shock, staggering briefly, arm swinging downwards, killing the Orc who had dealt him the blow. Warm blood exploded from the wound, flowing freely without hindrance and reaching the forest floor. Legolas ignored it and continued defending himself, teeth clenched tightly, trying to push the pain out of his head.

Esendri heard the cry his master gave, and knew instinctively that he had been hit. He shouted out, trying to reassure his master, promising to arrive to aid him soon. Yet his heart sank as he knew it was only a matter of time that they would all be overwhelmed. He gritted his teeth and renewed his attack upon the Orcs, hoping against hope that a miracle would happen to save them all.

The servant reached to draw another arrow from his quiver, only to find his hands closing around air. The inevitable had occurred: he had run out of arrows. A shiver ran down his spine as he unsheathed his long knife.

A sudden blast of a horn, and the Orcs changed their formation. A line was quickly drawn across the clearing where the battle was taking place. The Orcs who had been battling with Esendri moved towards the centre of the clearing, and the young Elf suddenly found himself facing air. He turned around in shock.

Slowly but surely, the Orcs advanced upon the two Elves in a thick line, pushing them backwards, making them fight hard to maintain their positions, making them take a step back to keep from being cut down. A step back from Legolas.

The alarm was especially strong in Esendri. He would lose sight of Legolas soon.

On the other side of the clearing, the Orcs surrounding the Elven prince did not relent in their assault, maintaining an unbreachable knot around him.

Legolas had exhausted his supply of arrows, and was relying upon the weapons of dead Orcs, large ugly swords and maces, to keep alive. He hated the feel of the cold metal, but nevertheless continued to hack away at the creatures that sought to take him down.

He saw the numbers of Orcs thin, but noted with alarm the increased intensity of their attacks. Closing in upon him, seemingly throwing all caution to the wind, it was not long before he was fighting limb to limb at close range with rancid bodies.

It was all he could do not to trip over the dead bodies, as the poorly constructed weapons in his hands shattered one by one, shortly after being picked off the floor.

A sheen of perspiration worked its way onto the Elf's fair face. He was beginning to tire. His mental and physical strength were being sapped rapidly, and he knew in his heart that it would soon come to the point that he would be too tired to defend himself.

A stinging blow hit his head. Caught by surprise, he lost his vision temporarily. Instinct forced him to start swinging the weapons like a dance. The blades blurred with the continuous motion, forming a tight net around the Elf, attempting to prevent any enemies from chancing on his momentary disorientation.

Yet some managed to evade the weapons the Elf wielded, burrowing themselves into his flesh, one striking his left shoulder, the other drawing blood from his upper arm. The sword he held in his left hand fell uselessly to the floor, his arm hung flaccidly, the pain blinding. Legolas gritted his teeth, and punished the owners of the offending blades dearly.

Waves of panic started to spread through the Elf, and he knew that it would not be long before the loss of blood from his wounds weaken him. Desperation surged through him, and perhaps for the first time in his life, the proud Silvan prince felt uncertain if he would walk away alive from the battle that he was partaking in.

***

On the other side of the forest, a good distance from their friend, the two Elves fought to keep from being pushed further back by the savage beasts. Esendri's long bow broke and fell to the floor, to be instantly crushed by the rampaging feet of the dark creatures.

Glorfindel was not in any imminent danger, but the worried glances that he threw at his companion underlined the concern he felt for the other. Esendri was frustrated and anxious to go to his friend's rescue, and was committing many mistakes. It was largely due to Glorfindel's experience that he was still alive, for he had blocked a good number of otherwise mortally crippling blows directed at the Silvan Elf.

Loud panting emanated from Esendri, his face smeared with mud and blood; blood of his own mingled with that of slain Orcs. He was moving slowly and awkwardly, his many wounds deep and bleeding profusely. Only the sheer force of his will and the thought that his master was in greater danger was keeping him on his feet.

Just as all seemed lost, a sudden whinnying was heard behind them. Esendri recognised the frantic call of his steed, Lindral, who had bolted earlier. So caught up in the battle, neither one nor the Orcs had noticed the approach of the horses

Reacting to the new development, Glorfindel cried out for Esendri to mount his horse. Mustering all his energy, the Elflord called upon the magic, projecting multiple images of himself throughout the attacking Orcs, causing widespread disorientation and panic.

Making use of the distraction, both Elves jumped onto their steeds, and were away like the wind. It was not to soon as well, for the images soon frayed and disintegrated, their lifespan being limited.

No amount of cajoling could get the petrified horses to turn in their tracks. They ran on, refusing to even slow down, and Glorfindel noted with alarm that his companion had passed out. His body flopped limply atop Lindral, and it was due to the skill of the horse, that the young Elf did not fall.

When the horses finally slowed down, Glorfindel leapt nimbly off, ignoring his own injuries, and hurried to attend to his unconscious friend. The Elf's bleeding had ebbed, but blood still continued to ooze out of the wounds. Glorfindel frowned worriedly, and laid the servant down on the ground. Reaching into a bag that hung from his own horse, he procured some herbs and healing salves, and attended to his young friend.

He would have to make his own way back to aid the Elven prince, for it was clear that the horses would refuse to return to the battle.

When Glorfindel was sure that Esendri's wounds had been addressed, he left the young Elf to be watched over by his steed. He then drew his weapon and started off in a quick run across the forest.

***

Legolas stumbled as he fought on to keep the Orcs at bay, deflecting a blade, bringing his weapon down on another.

It seemed like it would never end. A new Orc appeared for every one he hacked down, a new sword sought to hack at his flesh for every blade he diverted. It was all so mechanical now, for his mind was far too numb and sapped.

He found himself wondering about his companions, if they had managed to survive. A sudden swelling rose in his throat as he thought of all the fights he had been with his friend. Perhaps the both of them had finally fought their last battle.

Excruciating pain rocked through his body, as a small dagger lodged itself onto the Elf's right shoulder.

The other Orcs were whipped into a greater frenzy, attacking the prince with renewed ferocity. Some lunged at Legolas's unguarded legs as he strove to work his increasingly sluggish arm. It would not be long ere he fall, the Orcs could sense that, and moved in for the kill.

Legolas felt a sudden surge rock through his body. He could not die in the hands of Orcs. It was too pitiful, too pathetic. A sudden flash of inspiration came to him, to use the powers he possessed. While untested in battle, it was worth a try in such a desperate situation.

Displaying composure that was characteristic of a hardened warrior, Legolas renewed his onslaught, and systematically widened the radius around him. As soon as the space was wide enough, the Elven prince knelt down on one knee, and grasped at a small shrub with his left hand, all the while deflecting blows with his right. He called upon the magic, and the trees started whispering furiously. The Orcs startled. Making use of the distraction, with every grain of strength left in his ailing body, Legolas leapt high into the air. He reached up and grabbed the bough of a tree, and hauled himself onto the branch.

The Orcs below screamed in frustration. By the time they had regrouped, the Prince of Eryn Galen had long since disappeared into the trees.

Nardawin finally slowed her pace and came to a complete stop. She waited impatiently for the maiden to get off, so she could return to her master. Yuvinel however, had other plans, and refused to dismount. The mare pawed at the ground, and snorted impatiently.

"I understand that your master has given strict orders to bear me to safety. In spite of that, I will not dismount and wait here. I want to seek him out too!" she spoke with such quiet determination that the mare stopped and listened.

"I care for Legolas at least as much as you do, and I will be able to locate him within the forest, for it is my home!" she pleaded, sensing the horse's hesitation.

After a moment's consideration, Nardawin seemed to finally agree with the maiden, and moved off back in the direction they had come from.

Horse and rider sped through the forest, and it was a good half an hour ere they came back to the battle site.

Silence cloaked the woods. Yuvinel dismounted. Twigs cracking under her feet made loud, snapping noises which filled the air, and the bodies of slain Orcs lay strewn by the dozens. The rancid smell of a battle filled the air.

She ignored the sight as best as she could, although it was all she could do to keep herself from gagging as the execrable smell of already decaying Orc bodies floated up while she continued her search through the corpses.

Nardawin was neighing balefully, while searching among the carcasses. Both horse and maiden had seen the number of attacking Orcs, and knew that it was unlikely that the Elves had managed to destroy them all. Perhaps the Elves had been either captured or killed.

Examining the area, Yuvinel gave a loud gasp as she saw horse tracks. Nardawin moved over upon hearing Yuvinel, and screamed loudly before taking off like the wind, for she had recognised the tracks as that of the other steeds.

Left behind, a strange conviction to walk in the opposite direction took hold of Yuvinel, and she found herself obeying it.

She started running, a sudden wave of panic coming over her. There was a weak throbbing in the air, calling from the west. It was not unlike the tingling sensation that swept over her earlier in the day as she was put into a deep and restful sleep. This time, it seemed so much weaker, so pitiful, struggling to stay alive.

Holding her course, Yuvinel doubled her pace. Her mind was numb and empty, focused on putting one foot in front of the other, fighting to reach Legolas as soon as she could.

Dawn was breaking, and little bursts of rays made their way into the forest. The girl was no longer running in the dark, and the shapes of the vegetation about her grew more distinct.

She burst out into the open, the dazzling sunlight hurting her dilated pupils. As her eyes gradually grew accustomed to the new light, Yuvinel noted that she had emerged on the West end of the forest. The Anduin flowed tranquilly a distance away.

Something caught her eye, and she rushed forward.

A limp body was slumped facedown on the riverbank, caked in blood, long blonde hair in disarray, bearing testimony to the epic battle that had taken place. Without pause for thought, the maiden turned the Silvan prince over gingerly.

The sight that rose up to greet her eyes caused her to let out a small gasp. The face of the Elf was pallid, and so devoid of colour that she leaned forward to check for signs of life. To her relief, she was able to discern a weak and irregular pulse stemming from the Elf. He was still alive.

Legolas's eyes were clenched shut, and his facial muscles were tense. Big, gaping wounds were evident all over his body, and many of his injuries were still weeping. A black, ugly dagger still lodged itself deeply in his right shoulder.

Without thinking, Yuvinel reached forward and yanked the dagger out, throwing it onto the ground, where it disintegrated into powder. To her surprise, the wound did not bleed, and there was an empty ulceration, the edges of which had turned black.

Pushing aside the impulse to cry, Yuvinel took deep breaths to calm herself. She tried, but to no avail, to rouse the Elf. her teeth, she began the slow and tedious process of bringing Legolas back within the safety of the forest.

After both were under the safety of foliage, she tore strips of cloth from her clothes and used them to bind his wounds. Once the immediate danger of the Elf bleeding to death had passed, Yuvinel started scouting about the forest floor for the leaves of the Athalas plant. Her father had taught her about its healing properties. Commonly known as Kingsfoil, it was efficient in working against agents of evil.

When she finally managed to procure the plant, she noted with alarm that the blackness had started to radiate outward from the wound, and a touch of the Elf's forehead revealed it to be scalding hot. Panic rose in her throat as she chewed on the leaves of the plant, causing them to release their healing juices. Without much hesitation, she placed the ground her within the wound.

The effect it had on the Elf was frightening. A huge spasm rocked through his damaged body as the first bruised leaves touched his wound. Yuvinel pressed more of the plant into the wound. Convulsions wrecked the Elf, and his arms thrashed about violently, attempting to tear out the herb from his shoulder. She quickly placed a protective had over the wound, pressing the herbs deeper, causing him to claw futilely at her hand. Ugly red marks appeared on her fair skin, yet she did not yield.

Her other hand stroked the hot forehead tenderly, as she sought to comfort the delirious Elf. Soft, comforting words were spoken. After what seemed like an age, the convulsions eased off as the plant's magic started to employ itself.

She released her hold on his wound, and noted that the fever still raged on. His face was flushed from the efforts of his body to counter-act the toxin. The situation was grim to the woodman's daughter, and she bit her lip hard to keep the tears from falling. Although the toxin appeared to be contained for the moment, it was not being beaten back. The poison had penetrated itself deep within him. It would take more than the powers of the Athalas plant to drive the venom from his body.

A sudden wave of drowsiness swept over Yuvinel. Battling against the exhaustion proved to be futile, and it was not long before she succumbed to the exertions of the previous night, and fell asleep, an arm cast protectively around the torso of her ward.

***

It was thus that Glorfindel chanced upon the two. Coming to the edge of the forest, all but given up hope on locating his young friend, his heart started beating wildly as he drew closer to the two figures.

A stone dropped from his heart as the realisation dawned that Legolas was still alive. Casting aside his reservations, the Elflord proceeded to rouse the maiden from her nervous slumber.

At the first touch of the other, her eyes flew open, and the black pools mirrored the weariness but determination that Glorfindel himself felt. A sigh of relief passed through her lips as she took in the sight of a friendly face.

"It is indeed a relief to find both of you alive, Lady Yuvinel!" A fleeting smile escaped his features. "I had feared Legolas lost!"

Glorfindel took the opportunity to examine the prince. Seeing the black wound, he let out an involuntary cry.

"Ai! There is the poison of the Orcs present in that wound! Not a moment must be lost! Watch over him!"

Yuvinel, startled his panic, watched on helplessly as Glorfindel sped away.

In the meantime, all she could do was sponge the hot forehead of the Elf.

Then, the events of the past few days began to take its toll. Teardrops the size of pearls rolled off her tired eyes, and splashed onto the Elven prince. Once the dam broke loose, there was no stopping it. She buried her face in her fingers, and sobs racked through her body.

Fear, grief, sorrow, anger. The emotions hit her one by one, unrelenting in barraging her fragile soul. The image of her father, fading in and out, the burnt out house, the horrendous battle, Legolas.

Just as the feelings threatened to completely overwhelm her and push her to the brink, an icy-cold hand enclosed around her wrist.

The maiden started. She lifted her face, to find the hand that held her wrist was fair, but bore wounds. Legolas's face was turned towards her. The concerned blue eyes of the Elven prince were fixed upon her, for he had been roused from the dark abyss of his unconsciousness by her tears.

The fear and loneliness gave way to concern as she took in his unfocused eyes. He tried to rise from his slouched position against the tree, but failed. There had been too much blood lost, and his wounds were too fresh. Instead, he shut his eyes tightly, and bit his lip, fighting not to cry out from the pain.

Brushing aside her despair, Yuvinel spoke soothingly to him in an undertone, seeking to allay his suffering. She resisted the urge to break into fresh tears as she saw again the extent of his injuries.

Legolas opened his eyes, resisting the wave of unconsciousness that threatened to take over, beating away the stars that danced across his eyes. His lips parted, and a slight croak escaped.

"Legolas, please! Do not move about, for it would only worsen your injuries! Do not worry about me."

She saw the gratefulness and acknowledgement within his eyes, and the pride of the Elf which fought with the demons that plagued his body. A jolt of joy ran through her body. He was awake, and he was fighting it.

Her happiness was pushed aside by apprehension as a soft moan escaped his parched lips. Yuvinel rushed down towards the river with a water bag that Glorfindel had left behind.

She refilled the bag quickly, and was back by his side, tenderly relieving his discomfort.

All the while, those intense blue eyes drifted in and out on the border of consciousness as he fought against the giddiness brought about by the loss of blood and the workings of the venom. The Elf's body was still warm to the touch, although his hands were icy-cold, and his lips were starting to blacken. The poison was invading the rest of his body, continuing its relentless death march.

"Esendri?" the word came out in a slur. A strange numbness had come over Legolas's body, and he sensed vaguely that something was wrong. Yet his mind was sluggish, and he struggled to recollect the events that had resulted in his current state.

"I have not seen him, but I am confident that he is not in any danger."

Yuvinel could see that Legolas was fading fast.

Alarmed, she cried out, "Legolas! Please, listen to me. Do not give in! Hold out for just a while longer! Glorfindel will be back soon!"

His eyes regained some focus, only to glaze over again. Frantic with anxiety, the girl clasped his cold hands to her, and started speaking of the Great Halls of Men, stories told to her by her father of the glorious days of Gondor. Of the white towers that rose above its spires and domes, of the Kings that lived within the stone walls of Minas Tirith.

She could sense that her words had an effect on him initially, and that he was making a genuine effort to listen to her tales. After a while, it seemed too much for him, and the Elf started to convulse. His lips were a ghastly black, and the blue eyes had misted over, as the words she spoke were no longer registered.

Her eyes filled with tears, as she grasped his hands more tightly, which were going limp with the passing into a dreadful sleep.

Just as all seemed at a loss, a piercing cry shattered the air.

"Legolas!"

The girl looked up to see Esendri balanced precariously upon Nardawin, before crashing to the ground.

Esendri grunted as he hit the forest floor, but he was not to be kept down. Scrambling madly, he was soon beside his friend.

"Forgive me, Lass!" he cried as he approached gingerly.

The dilated pupils regained some of their focus, as Legolas realised Esendri had arrived.

Even Nardawin went up to Legolas and nuzzled him worriedly.

Legolas managed a smile through the haze of pain and confusion while Esendri cast his eyes hurriedly over the numerous wounds, examining them quickly. He had seen worse. What worried him most was the poison of the Orcs. Pressing a palm to the laceration, he could feel the pain and damage it was causing.

In the meantime, the maiden could only watch on helplessly. A sudden feeling of being a stranger swept over her.

The thought caused her much hurt, as the oddity of the mingling of mortals and Elves came to her. It was not surprising, though, as she reflected on her inability to do anything, while Esendri and Glorfindel seemed to be able to provide relief to Legolas.

The red flush in Legolas's cheeks lessened as Esendri continued to send comforting waves of energy into the wound, and his temperature came down.

Esendri smiled grimly, as he watched his Master's eyes stopped flickering. He knew that the respite he gave was only temporary, and it would not be long ere the poison break through the flimsy barrier installed in place of what should have been an antidote.

"I have been through worse," Legolas said, trying to maintain his spirits.

Yuvinel could only squeeze his hand in reply, a small amount of relief coursing through her.

"Indeed! Surely Orcs are no match at all for His Royal Highness and the brave maiden by his side!" Esendri said, scowling.

The derision in them did not escape Yuvinel's notice. She blushed and relinquished her grip upon the hand of the Elf, and scrambled to her feet, leaving on the pretext of fetching more water from the river.

"A fine state I would be in, if Yuvinel had not found me!" he said acidly.

Esendri turned away from his friend for he had no wish to exacerbate his condition.

"I apologise, Legolas. It was not my place to make such remarks!"

Legolas sighed, and was about to answer when Esendri sucked in suddenly as a wave of pain from his own injuries hit him.

"You too are hurt!" Legolas cried, reaching out and gripping Esendri's arm.

"It is nothing compared to yours, Lass." Esendri snapped.

Glorfindel chose this moment to arrive, raising an eyebrow upon seeing Esendri.

"May I enquire after the whereabouts of Yuvinel?" he said casually, busying himself with the herbs, preparing the remedy for the poison. Still, he caught the blush that crept up into Esendri's face, and the discomfit on Legolas'.

As if in answer, footsteps were heard.

A strange light flashed in her face as she noticed the presence of the third Elf.

"Have you managed to procure the necessary herbs?"

The high-Elf nodded curtly.

Legolas grinned through the veil of confusion that was setting in as the effects of the magic started to fade.

"Orcs are not enough to fell me, this I assure you!" Legolas was barely aware of what he was saying.

Esendri threw him a dirty look. He had not forgotten the waves of bodies pressed against him, seeking to destroy him. A ripple passed through his body as he recalled how close they had been to their last battle.

By this time, Glorfindel had finished his antidote. It was a good thing that the prince was still conscious, for it would have been difficult if Legolas were to slip into another coma.

Glorfindel drew a deep breath, and unsheathed his long knife, before moving towards Legolas.

The maiden's eyes grew wide, and she threw herself before him. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"Do not harm him!" she cried.

Glorfindel let out an impatient noise. "Indeed. I would wait till this very moment to harm him, instead of letting those Orcs finish their job!"

Yuvinel blushed and yielded.

"You are too harsh on her!" Legolas protested weakly.

His comments were ignored by Glorfindel, who moved closer still.

Glorfindel motioned for Yuvinel to pass him the water-skin, while he rubbed an ointment upon the blade of the knife.

"Glorfindel!" Esendri cried out in alarm, as he realised what Glorfindel was about to do.

He was silenced by an icy stare from the Elflord.

A look of understanding passed across Legolas's face, and his eyes widened in fear for the briefest moment, before it was replaced by a determined but ashen look of acceptance. This had to be done in order to purge his body of the poison.

The older Elf signalled for the girl to render her assistance. She complied, but with a pallor in her face.

Working the knife expertly, Glorfindel cut away the cloth that surrounded the wound. The flesh in the immediate area had turned a ghastly, festering black. Loud gasps were heard as the servant and the girl took in the sight. Legolas turned a deathlier shade of grey as he took his cue from those surrounding him.

Frowning hard, Glorfindel tentatively pressed a finger against the venom-laden flesh, and drew back, as if stung.

Yuvinel slipped her hand into Legolas's, and it was not too soon, as the sharp edge of the knife plunged into his flesh. Black liquid spurted out of the wound. It was a grotesque sight, and Legolas bit on his lip hard to keep from crying out loud. His face lost whatever colour it had, and his fingernails dug deep into Yuvinel's palm, causing ugly purple marks to appear upon her fair skin. Yet, he did not cry out nor display any obvious signs of distress.

Flicks of the knife ensured, and Glorfindel hastily cut away the rotten flesh, before he motioned for Yuvinel to press fresh dressings upon the reopened wound to stem the flow of blood. He then threw down the blood-laced knife and took out the salve he had concocted.

More blood, this time a dark brown, poured from the window in the flesh as the applied pressure was released slowly as Glorfindel's applied the medicine to it.

Esendri stood and watched, going as pale as his master as he watched the suppressed pain. He knew his master's pride well, and that he could see the pain in the eyes of his friend showed just how bad it must have been, for it was not often that the iron mask cracked and revealed the true face hidden under it.

Having finished administering the antidote, Glorfindel let Yuvinel bind the still spurting wound.

He tilted his head, and took in suddenly Esendri's pallor.

"Ai, Esendri! You too are hurt! Forgive me, for in my haste to stem the poison, I disregarded you!"

Hearing himself being addressed, Esendri peeled his eyes off Legolas, who had almost passed out.

"I still have enough in me to draw blood from a dozen Orcs!"

"Do not speak of such things, Esendri! We are not yet out of danger. I shall tend to your wounds ere we concur about the next step to take!"

"My injuries are not as you have made them out to be, Master Glorfindel!" he protested.

His remarks were blithely ignored by the other, who made quick work of inspecting the wounds.

Glorfindel stood up and dusted himself, satisfied that the injuries sustained by the pair were healing, before he disappeared to take up the watch.

"He has ceased his trembling!" Yuvinel cried as she saw Esendri coming back again.

Esendri beamed. He ran a hand across the cooler forehead of his friend, who had lapsed into a peaceful slumber. He studied his master further, before breathing a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Yuvinel, for the assistance you have rendered." His tone was sincere and his smile genuine.

"It was nothing, Esendri. I am sure you would have done the same. If anything, it was my fault for getting you in this situation! Forgive me!!"

"Nay, it is I who should ask for forgiveness, for I have treated you unfairly! We must continue to be on our guard, for who is to say that the accursed creatures would not make a return? Make use of the remainder of the sun's rays to recuperate and recover your strength! Glorfindel is keeping watch, and we will not be caught off guard twice!"

The maiden nodded mutely. The servant turned and settled down next to his unconscious master, and cast one last protective glance around him, looking for any further discomfort, before soon drifting off into the strange world of Elven dreams.

Legolas awoke slowly. Sunlight pierced through the canopy of leaves that formed a protective layer above him. It took him a full five minutes to come to full consciousness.

"Master! You are awake!" An exuberant shout announced the presence of his ever faithful friend. "How feel you?"

A hand brushed his forehead. He struggled, and was helped upright, leaning against a beech.

"You do recall the attack by the Orcs and your subsequent injury, do you not, Legolas?" Esendri enquired anxiously, peering intently at his friend, when he saw the confusion. "Glorfindel has been keeping watch, and the Orcs have not returned but we must move once you see fit!"

"What of Yuvinel?" said Legolas.

Furtiveness swept across the face of the other.

"She saw fit to leave in the dark of the night, believing us unaware of her movements. We did not stop her."

"You let her leave?" Incredulity and anger crept into Legolas.

"Indeed, for it was her decision!"

Legolas cast a dark look at his friend.

"I had not the chance to thank her!"

"Save your breath, my prince, for it is perhaps a greater favour for her to remove herself from your influence!" said Glorfindel, who had come up to them when he heard voices. "Enough time has been wasted. Do not lose yourself in every whim and fancy you encounter! You forget your duty to both you father and your home."

"Lord Glorfindel speaks the truth, Legolas. The threat to Eryn Galen is great, and we cannot fail in our task. How do you feel this morning?"

"The pain is bearable, although it usually does not come with guilt as an accompaniment!"

"Enough, Legolas! You must learn to limit your contact with mortals. Nothing good would come out of it! You must realise that kindness will not beget kindness. You barely escaped with your life this time, and let this be a lesson!

"It is time we left this forest, for we have lost two days to the foul creatures. Let us know if the pace we set is too quick for you, Legolas, as the journey to come will tax you greatly. You are no stranger to the High Pass."

A determined nod of the Elf's head signalled the affirmative.

"Indeed, Glorfindel. Rest assured that I will be no hindrance to the group!"

Glorfindel smiled, and offered the prince a hand, only to be refused politely and pointedly. The smile faded as he noted the flash of uneasiness in the eyes of the young one as he rose.

"Perhaps I should examine your wound again?" he proffered, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

A short laugh erupted from Legolas. "Mind me not, Glorfindel, for I can assure you that being kept off one's feet for two days would indeed have some effects on one's movement!"

Glorfindel did not press further. He could see that Legolas was embarrassed for getting himself injured, and so he left it at that.

In spite of the words he spoke, Legolas felt a heavy throbbing in his shoulder. While the rest of his wounds had healed quickly in the manner of Elves, something felt wrong about his shoulder. However, he had cost his companions enough worry and time, and he would not slow them down. His own examination of the injury could wait.

He noted how he was wearing his ceremonial robes. A dark curse passed through his head, both for the foul creatures, and the tailors who had managed to conjure such majestic but impractical garments.

Esendri thrust a cloth of fruit in front of him, interrupting his thoughts.

"Have some sustenance, Lass!"

A sudden gagging rose in Legolas's throat as he beheld the food. He pushed it down quickly, beaming at Esendri, and took one up in his hand. The thought of having to eat the pear was vile. Not understanding, confusion took hold of him. It was silenced by his awareness of his companions suddenly watching him closely.

Smiling as hard as he could, he forced himself to take a bite of the fruit. Bile came up in his throat, almost making him spit it out. The taste, normally so pleasant to him was revolting. Not wanting to alert his companions to this alarming change, he swallowed it as quickly as he could, all the while struggling to maintain a neutral, appreciative expression in his face while it was all he could do not to run into the bushes and throw up.

Seemingly satisfied, the other two turned their backs on him, readying themselves to set off. Legolas quickly hid the remainder of the pear in the undergrowth.

A loud whinnying was heard, and Nardawin charged out from the bushes, straight into Legolas. In her anxiety and elation at seeing her master awake and recovered, she charged straight at him.

"Legolas!" Esendri cried, as he saw Legolas get knocked to the ground.

Even Glorfindel was caught off-guard and both cried out as the Elven prince hit the ground.

The Elflord and the servant were at his side in an instant, only to be pushed aside by a laughing Legolas.

"Worry not! I panicked upon seeing Nardawin come charging at me!" Legolas rose, and rubbed the startled mare's nose affectionately.

Esendri could tell that Glorfindel was not convinced too. They both exchanged another worried glance before pretending to ignore what they had just witnessed. No Elf would ever let himself be so easily run to the ground, but neither wanted to push their friend. They knew that they could well be dealing with a mutiny if they attempted to force Legolas to rest further.

Legolas took a swig from his flask, wiping away the beads of moisture that had gathered on his forehead. He had not even managed to gather the reflexes to jump aside as the horse charged at him.

He continued stroking his horse's mane, unsure of what to say next. Even the mare was eyeing him suspiciously. He spoke soft words to her, before swinging himself up. She shuddered at his touch, but went still. The horse was agitated, but did not show it, and the Elf could tell that she was uneasy bearing him.

Horse and rider moved off, not waiting for their companions. Legolas felt his hands go cold with the movement. The mare seemed to be eager to depart from the place, and worked up a canter.

"Nardawin!" Legolas cried. Never before had the mare moved without instruction from him. The sounds of branches cracking behind him told him that his companions had caught up.

Esendri pulled alongside his master, and looked worriedly at him.

"Legolas, why did you not wait?"

"Do you not see that we must not tarry? Imladris awaits us!" the prince answered. "Surely you are eager to set your eyes on the house of Lord Elrond?"

"Indeed, you speak the truth, Master! Away, away we fly!"

"Ride on, Legolas, for many pleasures await at Imladris!"

Glorfindel, too, sped along his way. He was followed closely by Nardawin, and the Elven prince who rode uneasily atop her.

He had examined his wound, and the prognosis did not seem encouraging. Having stopped to rest their horses, the Elven prince volunteered to scout the area and gather supplies and slipped off into the night while the other two waited. The sight that greeted him had caused him to be very worried.

The wound had not closed up as expected, and the flesh surrounding it was slowly turning black. Sharp bursts of pain continued to plague him all day, and he had to fight very hard to keep focused. Luckily, the other two did not seem to sense anything amiss. It did not comfort him much, for he did not know how much longer he could hold out against the nausea and the waves of disconcerting drowsiness that plagued him.

Legolas was too proud to admit that his wound was affecting him. He did not intend to hold the other two up any more than was necessary, for they were still a good distance away from the High Pass, and there was the ever present danger of the Orcs attacking again. It was clear that they would not survive a second attack. As it was, Glorfindel had set a pace that was nowhere near punishing. It was something that Legolas both knew and resented.

Weakness still whispered in his limbs, as he pulled out some herbs that had been secretly procured before they left the forest. He shoved them quickly into the ulceration, ignoring the terrible spasms that racked through his body.

He smiled grimly as he felt the waves of nausea dissipate.

Mustering up his strength, he wiped his wet brow, where beads of perspiration had formed, and returned to his friends.

He threw the water-skins on the ground and smiled at the other two. Glorfindel looked him up and down, as if searching for any signs of anomaly, a look which caused much uneasiness to Legolas.

"Legolas, perhaps you should rest," he said, being careful to not sound patronising.

"Thank you, Glorfindel. My body is weary indeed, and rest is what I need," the Sindarin prince said, not wanting to start an argument. He knew very well that the other was capable of pinning him to the ground and forcefully checking his wound.

Esendri looked up sharply. Legolas would never admit he was tired under normal circumstances. His injuries must have been worse than he had thought.

"Something to eat, Lass?"

A wave on the hand and a small smile refused the offer politely. Legolas fought back a frown as he felt the pain return with a vengeance. The herbs were not enough to stem the tide. Trying to keep his face expressionless, he lay down on the ground and fell into a deep trance.

Esendri stopped in his tracks, unsure of what to do. Legolas was evasive and had refused to meet his eyes properly the whole day, but pushing him further would not achieve anything, for Legolas was stubborn.

A glance behind him revealed an untroubled Glorfindel tending to his mount. A stone dropped from his heart, and he too stretched out on the grass. The stars were pretty that night, and Esendri was soon fast asleep.

Unknown to the other, Legolas was not asleep. Instead, the pain kept him awake, and for the first time in his life, he felt a dreadful chill whispering in his bones. His fingers were icy-cold, and it was all he could do not to shiver uncontrollably. He did not understand the feeling very well, for Elves were immune to the cold. He bit his lips hard, tasting blood, and struggled to keep his face passive.

He startled as Glorfindel walked up and stooped beside him. The Elflord did not make any noise, and moved away after motioning for the Elven prince to follow him.

Legolas got up with difficulty. Grimacing, he followed Glorfindel shakily until they were out of earshot.

"You do not seem well," Glorfindel's eyes glittered strangely, making Legolas feel uncomfortable with their scrutiny.

The Elven prince shrugged casually, unsure of how to respond. He struggled to keep his face unreadable, an impassioned mask of indifference, all the while knowing that he did not fool the other.

"Legolas, what is wrong?"

"What more should I do to dispel this erroneous thought from the depths of your mind? Scale Caradhras within the hour? Slay a Balrog? You do have to understand that the powers Lord Glorfindel possesses are hardly common. Normal beings get wounded and take time to recover from battles. Apply not your exacting standards on others for you will be sorely disappointed!" the Silvan prince snapped, irrational anger and caustic words escaped his mouth, stunning the other.

The increasing wave of anger that surged through his body caused him to throw the water skin he held in his hands hard on the ground, before he flashed a black look at the Elflord and stomped off into the night.

Glorfindel could only watch, dumbfounded, as the young one walked away. He had seen hurt, anger, and confusion in those blue eyes. Part of him was already starting to regret the confrontation. Perhaps Legolas was prouder than he had given him credit for.

There was also the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong with the whole journey. As if there was something out there, biding its time, waiting to strike.

Still, there was nothing the Elflord could do but to leave Legolas alone. Sighing heavily, Glorfindel took one last look in the direction the other had gone, seeing the slender body in silhouetted in the moonlight, moving steadily out of sight.

***

Legolas shivered, the slight chill of the night getting into his bones. He continued walking, holding his head high, for he knew Glorfindel could see him. There were no beloved beeches for him to seek refuge in, and all he could do was maintain his stance and the illusion that all was well.

It eventually got too much for him, and he collapsed, kneeling, to the floor, past caring about whether the others were watching. All he could feel was dizziness. His vision was blurred from the perspiration that dripped into his eyes. Wiping the beads of water angrily away, he clenched fistfuls of long grass, and called upon the magic.

The familiar feeling of small pulses of life did not come to him. Frowning, he tried again, summoning up every fibre of his body, and strained to find it.

The result horrified him. Instead of calming waves of energy, spasms of pain rocked his body, and he curled up into a ball. They held him in a tight embrace, refusing to release him. Curling up into a ball, he gasped loudly as more waves threatened to encompass him. It was long after he stopped attempting to use the healing magic before the terrible pain went away.

Gritting his teeth, he tore open the bandaging and stuffed more herbs into the wound. It was obvious that the poison of the Orcs was not so easily dispelled, but he refused to be the one to hold the group back. He got to his feet unsteadily, and walked off further from his friends. He could not stand the thought of having to face them any longer than was necessary, for the fraying illusion would not hold long

Stumbling about, he eventually came to a huge rock on the plain that offered some form of shelter. He moved to the leeward side, in a feeble attempt to get out of the wind, and curled himself into a foetal position. There he shivered for what seemed like eternity, growing colder by the moment, before finally passing into feverish dreams.

"Your invasion of my kingdom is yet to be explained," the king of the Silvan Elves demanded of the men who stood before him.

Their leader stepped forward boldly, undaunted.

"Our men were ruthlessly attacked by Orcs, my lord, as we passed through the northern fringes of your great wood. We are all that remains of the band that sought no quarrel with any. We could not defend ourselves, and instead fled within the safety of the trees. We do not mean to trespass, and neither do we bear any ill-will to your people."

Thranduil did not respond.

"We did not know of that goblins resided there."

"Speak no further, Fenmir, son of Eilmar. I will send my patrols to investigate further. In the meantime, we will hold you here for your safety. Rest assured that all your men's needs will be attended to, and their injuries looked after."

Fenmir bowed, and the party was escorted out by members of the Home Guard.

When that was seen to, the Captain of the Home Guard, a tall, broadly built Elf entered the room.

"My lord, what is to be of the men?"

"Felnor, tell me. Was I right to send my son away?"

"My lord? Why speak you thusly?"

Thranduil sighed, his long years threading the earth suddenly all coming down upon him.

"My sons; they are lost to me."

The captain took an uncertain step forward.

"Thranduil - "

The king seemed to break out of his trance. He blinked, and looked his captain in the eye.

"Felnor, give the order to treat the men well. I shall question them further about the attack. They might yet have information useful to us."

A perfunctory nod was the reply.

"Your Majesty, how feel you

"I did not realise I was speaking out loud, Felnor. I am grateful for your many years of service."

"It is my duty and honour to serve you, sire. There seems much on your mind. Perhaps you should rest, for the day has been long."

"Indeed, Felnor. I wonder how fares my son this very moment."

Felnor took a step back. In all his long years in service, he had never heard the king speak of his younger boy is such a tone. Thranduil had allowed the gap between himself and Legolas which had formed in the wake of his wife's death to remain, and had always been distant to Legolas since. While he had positively doted on his younger son when he was a mere child, the king had put his disapproval of Legolas's apparently flippant nature at the fore of most of their relationship.

"Strange it is. Three sunsets have gone by since I have not been able to keep my thoughts off the boy. The lost years between us haunt my every breath."

"My lord. Dwelling on the past will not aid you in the present. Your kingdom needs you." The Captain stepped in as he saw the tears well up in the proud monarch's eyes.

The king nodded mutely, attempting to keep his emotions under control.

A tapping on the door brought both back to the present.

"Your Majesty, Milinral requests an audience."

Thranduil was not surprised. He had been expecting a visit from the exile since the Orc-attack

Milinral stepped into the throne room, head held high, neither prostrating himself before the king nor obeying any formalities.

"Legolas is in danger, Thranduil,"

The effect on the king was great. He struggled hard to maintain his calm while waiting impatiently for the other to elaborate further.

"I would not have come to you had it not been imperative that you get a warning out to your son. I questioned a straggler from a party of Orcs that passed through the fringes of Eryn Galen, and he revealed a plan that involved Legolas. You might not care very much for what happens to your son, but you must know that the fate of your kingdom is tied to that of the boy. It is his birthright."

Thranduil did not answer.

With that, Milinral bowed mockingly in the direction of the king, his derision barely concealed. He then nodded curtly at Felnor, before departing the room.

"Your Majesty - " began the captain. He too was deeply concerned, for he had watched over the little Elf growing up, and was his personal tutor, responsible for most of his training.

The king leapt up suddenly from his seat, and flung open the door, only to be greeted by the sight of an empty corridor.

He frowned, and turned towards Felnor.

"Speed the swiftest eagle along the way. I want my son to be aware of this threat."

"Yes, Your Majesty, as you wish."

***

Once outside the palace confines, the captain found the exile waiting for him. Stepping up to the old Elf, the old friends embraced.

"The situation is grave indeed, much worse than Thranduil gives it credit for."

"Do not be too harsh on him."

"Thranduil is blind. He manages not to see the gifts Legolas possesses. How a father can feel naught for his son is beyond my reckoning."

"He is proud of his son, Milinral."

"Legolas never had a father. The hour grows late for rectification."

"Thranduil loves him."

"Yet, the boy does not blame his father. There is much love in him. I fear he gives too much," Milinral said.

"Whatever warmth Thranduil lacks in his heart, his son makes up for it tenfold." Milinral smiled wistfully as he recalled the numerous injured animals the little prince had taken back to his chambers, attempting to heal them, and the subsequent disaster that was brought upon the household when they had escaped into the palace.

"His Majesty has been hit hard by tragedy. Do you blame him for the way he reacted?"

"Legolas was but a child! Valar, he is still a child!" Milinral exclaimed. "He almost died when Thranduil cut him off - "

"He did not want his son to grieve. He did not Legolas to give too much!"

"And yet his does. I fear for Legolas. He has already gone through - and survived - so much. But yet, there is more waiting for him."

"He is strong, Milinral. He has the support of many who care for him. We will make sure he gets through this!"

There was a whooshing of wings and a huge bird descended upon them, its golden features shining in the early morning sun.

"What news, Lord Felnor?" it said, a deep, throaty voice rising from its brilliant chest.

"His Majesty wishes it that a message be sent with all due haste to Prince Legolas."

"Tell him to avoid the High Pass at all costs. He should turn his tracks South, following the river, before crossing. If that is not possible, bear them across the Misty Mountains yourself, leaving the steeds behind. Fell deeds await them at Caradhras!"

The sudden interjection by Milinral startled Felnor. He frowned at his companion, wondering at the deviant information as compared to what he had told the King earlier. Still, he nodded to the puzzled eagle, indicating for it to convey the message.

"Very well, my Lord, I shall speed on the way."

Felnor turned questioningly towards Milinral once the eagle had departed.

"There is no use, letting Thranduil in on any of this, for it would only serve to worry him unnecessarily."

The other reached out and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, in spite of the anxiety he felt growing in his own chest.

***

The dark creature grinned sardonically as it methodically ripped apart the still form of the bird it had just brought down. Satisfaction pulsed in its veins as it slashed at the golden feathers, ripping apart the throat. Greedily, it began to drink the still warm, sticky liquid that gushed out of the gaping holes within the flesh.

Who is going to save you now, my young Princeling?

Esendri paced up and down impatiently. The sun had risen long since, and his master had not returned. Glorfindel made it very clear that the prince had wished to be alone, although he had been vague and unclear about what had happened the night before.

"Master Glorfindel, should we - "

Esendri was cut off by a loud shrieking, as Nardawin reared in delight. He turned sharply to see his master making his way towards them.

"We must be swift! Obsiran has returned with news from Lord Elrond. A storm is building in the clouds, and we must reach Caradhras by nightfall!" The chest of the Elven prince heaved heavily as he reached them. His eyes, however, glittered dangerously, as if challenging the other two to say anything about his perceived state of unfitness.

"Did he not stay?" Esendri said.

"Nay, Esendri, for he had tidings to bear from Elrond to his leader. But now the hour grows late! Let us ride on!" cried Legolas, leaping onto his steed.

He was off like the wind.

Legolas felt a chill set itself into him. His condition had worsened during the night, and the iciness that held him in its chilling embrace had kept him awake. On top of that, his nausea and exhaustion did little to alleviate the situation. He had stumbled many times on his way back, and it was all he could do not to stumble in front of his friends.

So good was he at disguising his pain that even the eagle was fooled. Although, Obsiran had been preoccupied.

The horses sped on throughout the day, Legolas pushing hard, unaware of his surroundings for most part, focused instead on keeping his balance. He rode uneasily, and more than once, almost gave in to his body's cries. Yet each time, he chided himself angrily, furious at his own weakness.

Finally, long after the sun had set, the prince looked up from his stupor Esendri let out a shout. The mountains loomed before them in the moonlight, big and threatening, hostile slopes beckoning. The air had also turned distinctively chillier.

"Legolas, I fear we cannot go further. Lindral is close to collapsing!"

"Let us tackle the Pass tomorrow," said Glorfindel, somewhere in the distance. He had been reserved towards the Elven prince all day. It was something that served Legolas well, for the last thing he wanted was for the others to notice his ever-worsening condition.

A terrible pain seized hold of Legolas suddenly, and he flung himself off Nardawin, only to go crashing to the hard ground. More sharp pains took him as he hit his head hard, and he curled up into a foetal position. The pain, nausea, and cold all caught up with him, and it was all he could do not to cry out. He could not move, and giant shivers wracked his body.

His companions cried out and dashed towards him. Esendri gasped as he grasped the freezing hands of his friend. Glorfindel too, his annoyance forgotten, was kneeling beside him, astute eyes taking in the blackening of the pallid lips, and the terrible gash on his forehead from the fall.

"Legolas!" cried Esendri, frantic. If not for the calming presence of the Eldar, he would surely have broken into tears as he stooped helplessly by the spasmodic form of his friend. There was no response, for Legolas was so caught up in the pain that all he could see were white flashes and stars across his visual field.

Muttering a dark curse for the stubbornness of the young one, Glorfindel scooped up the lithe form in his arms, feeling the coldness of his body, and placed him quickly on a softer patch of ground. Taking charge of the situation, he instructed Esendri to get a fire going, and threw their cloaks upon the freezing body, and quickly tended to his head injury.

The face of the fair Elf was flushed and wet with perspiration, but the warm cloaks seemed to have no effect on him.

It took Esendri the better part of ten minutes to get a fire going, and Glorfindel moved the icy-cold youngling towards it. He sent a silent prayer to the Valar for the heat radiating from the flickering flames to warm Legolas.

Glorfindel then carefully peeled off his tunic, and the bandages over the shoulder wound. His face turned a deathly shade of grey as he saw the blackness had spread to the chest of the young Elf, and was creeping up his neck. The crushed leaves of the Athalas plant crammed into the ulceration had been reduced to a black powder by the poison.

He motioned for Esendri to boil some water. The toxin was unlike anything he had ever encountered. Although he did not possess the healing skills of Elrond, the antidote and treatment he had administered earlier should have at least contained the poison for ten days. Speaking comfortingly to the half-unconscious form, his heart dropped further as he noticed the clenched fists, and the fever in Legolas's half-open eyes.

Searching the Elf, he found many leaves of the healing plant. He smiled grimly. It was a good thing the young one had the wits to procure enough leaves, for they would not find any on the hostile slopes of the Misty Mountains.

Esendri moved over with the boiled water, eyes hooded in pain and apprehension. It was all he could do to hold back the tears that threatened to erupt, as he saw the indecision and worry on the Elflord's face.

Glorfindel took up the goblet of hot water, and sprinkled it with the Athalas leaves. He then instructed Esendri to feed it to his friend, while he got up and headed for his horse.

Esendri obeyed, moving over to Legolas, and spoke in soft, soothing tones, gently propping his master up against his knee, massaging the small of his back with his free hand.

"Drink this, Lass," Esendri said, knowing that Legolas could not hear him.

Bringing the can up to the parched lips of his friend, he gently tilted it, causing the hot liquid to travel down into the throat of the trembling Elf. Legolas spluttered and choked initially, attempting to spit out the liquid, but the soothing and firm presence of his friend gradually won over.

Glorfindel returned, and noted with grim satisfaction that Esendri seemed to have marginal success with getting the Elven prince to drink, as Esendri caressed Legolas's back, making soft, gentle downward motions to ease the passage of the healing concoction.

Eventually, the terrible spasms seemed to ease off, but Legolas was still shivering with cold. Slowly, the Silvan prince seemed to return nominally to the present, and he murmured weakly to himself, nonsensical words.

"Ada?" he muttered. Esendri looked up in alarm at Glorfindel. Legolas had never before used the endearing term for his father.

"Esendri, we must not tarry!" Glorfindel said, and knelt beside his friend. "More than herbs are required to stem the tide. I must summon upon an ancient magic, and you have to help me. It is not a cure, but it will hold back the poison."

Esendri nodded. Taking a cue from Glorfindel, he held the hands of his friend, clasping them tightly, afraid to let go.

Glorfindel knelt by Legolas's side, and placed his palm over the shoulder wound. Small, blue sparks emanated from his finger tips, and travelled down into the wound, disappearing deep into the flesh of the prince. Legolas convulsed sharply with the first sparks touching him, and, Esendri could feel a dreadful tugging of his spirit.

Esendri bit his lip hard, ignoring the pain that passed through his friend to him. Their spirits were joined as the magic slowly took effect, and he hissed as he felt the frostiness. A loud humming filled his ears, and he looked on in wonder as the world around him spun into a blur. He could feel the fading strength of his friend start to return, and the humming worked up into a loud roaring that hurt his ears. Esendri held on tightly still, in spite of the terrible pain, determined not to abandon his friend.

The world returned to normal suddenly, leaving Esendri gasping for air. He looked up, eyes starting to focus, and saw that Legolas's face had lost its black shade.

Looking about, he noticed Glorfindel kneeling beside the prince, knuckles pressed to the ground, panting terribly.

"Glorfindel!" he cried.

The Elflord looked up and smiled shakily.

"Do not fear, Esendri, the venom has been contained for the time. He should drink more warm fluids, for he is still icy to the touch."

"Nana - heleg - ring - " Fragmented words emitted from the lips of fair Elf. "Nana - ring - "

The servant ignored them, and instead, propped his master up, coddling him to down the warm liquid. This time, there was no resistance, and the Elven prince relaxed as the hot fluid ran down his cold throat.

"Keep him warm!" Glorfindel, having regained his strength, started pacing about, looking worriedly at the sky.

Esendri nodded, and scooped his master up into his arms, holding him tight, singing softly to him. Eventually, the tremors stopped wracking his body, and his breathing deepened.

Without warning, Legolas's eyes flew open. Confusion and fear settled upon his face, and he struggled weakly.

"Hush, Legolas, do not move, for you are still weary."

An abrupt bolt of coughing caused Glorfindel to look sharply at Legolas in concern. The fair Elf twisted about, and retched violently in the midst of his coughing fit. Dark, foul liquid poured from his mouth.

Esendri reacted immediately, stroking his back gently, speaking soft words of comfort, not showing his increasing worry as Legolas continued to gag, even after the contents of his stomach ceased its flow. The Elven prince's eyes were red from the effort to rid his stomach of its non-existent contents, and he remained half-conscious.

After what seemed like ages, the heaving stopped, and he leaned back heavily on the chest of his servant, eyes closed, chest moving up and down heavily. Esendri ran a cloth over his pale lips, wiping away the black sickly liquid. His eyelids flickered, and Legolas gradually opened his eyes again.

Panic flooded through the veins of the prince and he cried out suddenly.

"Are we in a cavern?" The words were full of fear and bewilderment.

Glorfindel was over in a second.

"Legolas?" he asked, concern permeating his words.

"I cannot see you, Glorfindel!" the young Elf cried, panic overcoming him, and he started to thrash about.

The strong arms of his friend held him down, and Esendri spoke soothingly, "Lass, relax."

A look of worry and understanding passed between Esendri and Glorfindel. The poison had taken away his sight.

The panic draining slowly from his limbs, Legolas pried himself away from Esendri's embrace.

"The poison has yet to be purged from your body, Legolas. Be still, and do not move about. Your sight may yet be saved," Glorfindel said, noting the look of dismay on the other's face.

It was instantly replaced by an impartial mask, one that Esendri recognised very well. Legolas was withdrawing into himself, unwilling to show his true feelings.

"I can deal with it, Glorfindel, we must move on, we cannot linger!" Legolas said, the words coming out with some difficulty.

"Not before I examine you, thoroughly, this time!" Glorfindel's voice was stern, and he did not bother to keep the worry out of his voice.

As if on cue, the Elven prince pulled the cloaks that were draped over him defensively up to his chin.

"Legolas, might I remind you that if it were not for your stubbornness, you would not be in this state!" stated the Eldar brusquely.

Dismayed, the young Elf attempted to pushed the other aside.

"It is only my sight that is absent. I do not feel any worse than I should!" he pleaded.

"Mayhap then, I should knock you unconscious and tie up your limbs ere you lay still?"

The intimidation did the trick, and Legolas let go of his cloak, the vacant eyes resigned and defeated. If there was one thing he hated more than being fussed over, it was being humiliated, and he knew that Glorfindel was serious about carrying out the threat.

"We should move off now!" Legolas said, for he could not bear another second of the fuss being raised over himself. "Do not fret about me, my other senses will pick up where my sight has failed!"

"Patience, neth-pen, for night has fallen. We set off at dawn. The horses need their rest, even if you do not."

"Master, a drink?" Esendri offered, thrusting a goblet into to his friend's hands.

"Ai, your hands are still icy-cold, Legolas!"

He fell silent when Legolas shot him a look.

Glorfindel, however, was having none of that.

"You will compromise the mission further by pushing ahead, Legolas. Let your pride go, for once, I pray you! You have caused enough worry already!"

"I always manage to get into trouble, is it not, Sen?" said Legolas humourlessly, before settling down.

"Fear not, Legolas, your sight will return!" replied Esendri comfortingly, stroking his friend's forehead. He pressed forward with his palm lightly, and the Elven prince grew drowsy with the workings of the magic.

"You know how I hate that, Esendri?" Legolas murmured, before dropping off into a peaceful sleep.

A sigh of relief passed through the pair, as they noticed his head fall to one side, the tension in the muscles draining off. The poison had weakened Legolas sufficiently for Esendri's magic to be effective. Esendri's arms were still cast protectively around the icy body of his friend, and he shivered as he felt the cold refusing to abate, despite Glorfindel's efforts to coax the fire into releasing more heat.

Abruptly, the blonde Eldar sprang up and rapidly doused the flames.

Esendri looked up in alarm, eyes full of fear.

"Something is amiss!" cried the Elflord. He resisted the urge to draw his sword, for fear of startling Esendri any more than necessary. The young Elf strained his ears, listening, wondering what the other had picked up.

"Glorfindel?" "Hush, Esendri!" the Elflord was frowning heavily, keen eyes scanning the horizon, darting about.

"Esendri! Orcs!" cried Glorfindel, jumping into action. He set two horses into motion, making them flee with a sharp word, and gathered up his weapons. Only Nardawin remained, refusing to leave her master. Muttering dark curses under his breath for the foul creatures. Glorfindel's heart sank as he realised the predicament they were in.

The servant's limbs turned to ice. The slopes of the mountain were hostile, and Legolas could not fight even if he were awoken. Quickly but gently, Esendri settled the lithe form on the ground, removing him from his embrace, and headed for his own weapons. He thrust his long knife into Legolas's hand, and caught the dagger that Glorfindel tossed over to him. They had no chance to restock on arrows, and his long bow had been broken in the earlier battle with the foul creatures. The vulnerability of the situation hit him, and he glanced about frantically.

His keen eyes swept the surrounding area, and came upon a small recess in the rocks a distance above. Scooping his master up into his arms, he started climbing towards it.

Glorfindel too had noticed it, and nodded grimly to the young Elf, before leaping onto the back of Nardawin, sword drawn, and went charging down the slopes of the mountain. His hair streamed behind him, and he uttered a silent prayer that this diversion would work.

In the meantime, Esendri had reached the alcove, and hurriedly settled his friend down within it. Throwing all three cloaks onto his master, he noted with satisfaction that the material worked well in concealing the unconscious form. He doubted very much that Glorfindel would be able to hold back the tide of Orcs. Descending the slopes, he laughed briefly, a derisive snort raising in his throat, as he examined the short dagger in his hands. Some kind of weapon it was, against the horde of Orcs he could see stampeding across the plains.

He stood there, sorrow rising in his throat, on the slopes of the mountain. Surely Glorfindel would not succeed, and then, he too, would fall. There was still a chance of Legolas escaping undetected, but he was blind and poisoned, and could never make it across the High Pass to Imladris - and safety.

Heavy footsteps jolted Esendri out of his reverie. His sharp eyes could barely discern dark figures emerging from behind the boulders to the north. So the Orcs were playing strategic games. The thought surprised him, for he had never seen anything of the likes before. The goblins were usually stupid creatures who had no minds to think on their own.

He moved slowly towards them, dagger ready, intent on taking out as many as possible before he fell.

The blow hit the side of his head and before the Elf could react, all was enveloped in darkness. Esendri fell to the ground, the dagger in his hands clanging uselessly on the hard rock.

*****

Glorfindel made his way back, having seen off the band of Orcs with relative ease. As hoped, they had been drawn to him like bees to honey, and he had led them on a chase away from his friends. The mare had gradually outrun them, did a turn back at a considerably higher altitude, using the mountain's many crevices to hide him.

He noted with relief that there seemed to be no sign of the goblins. He leapt off the horse, stroking her mane, and noted anxiously that Legolas and Esendri were nowhere to be seen.

He came to the alcove where Esendri had left Legolas and breathed a sign of relief when he saw that the prince still slumbered in his enchanted sleep, well-concealed by the cloaks piled upon him. Rushing forward, he noted the iciness that still clung on.

"Esendri?" The Eldar called softly, but there was no response.

Checking again to make sure that Legolas was in no imminent danger, he started scouting about the area. It was not long before his sharp eyes noted the blade of a dagger glinting in the moonlight. Crying out loud, he rushed forward, and recognised it as the one he had given Esendri. A quick scan about the area revealed a single set of tracks heading away, dragging something heavy.

Esendri had been captured. The blonde Elf felt his heart go cold. Deliberating on the subject, he made a decision to see to Legolas first.

Returning to the cave, he wrapped the unconscious Elf in another cloak. He was torn in two: one part of him wanted to rescue Esendri, the other part knew he had to stay with Legolas.

Legolas stirred, and Glorfindel knelt by him, pressing a water-skin to his lips, coaxing him to down the refreshing liquid. His heart dropped further as he noticed the vacant stare of the other. Legolas's sight had not returned.

"Esendri?"

"Nay, it is I, Legolas. Drink this; you need it."

"I feel much better, Glorfindel," the young one said, pushing away the water-skin.

Glorfindel sighed and gave in. He was too troubled to coddle him.

He watched distractedly as Legolas glanced around the cavern, confusion in the otherwise blank eyes. A calm, expressionless mask was set on his face, and did not betray the turmoil he surely was feeling at having lost his most important sense.

Legolas seemed to be listening hard, and he frowned before turning to face the Elflord.

"Where are we, for the wind is not half as strong as it was. Also, pray, tell me where Esendri has gone?"

"Orcs attacked us and Esendri hid you here before he was captured. He has not been hurt, for surely they would have killed him if that were their intent," said Glorfindel, seeing no point in keeping the truth from Legolas. His sight might have been gone, but it was clear that his mind was still as sharp as ever.

To his surprise, Legolas did not leap up from the ground. instead, he turned an ashen grey.

"Lord Glorfindel, I plead with you to leave me and hasten in your search of Esendri."

"You know I cannot leave you, Legolas!"

"I will only hinder your search!" Legolas stood up, shaking with the effort and emotion.

"All I see is two friends, one right before me, whom I cannot abandon, and other, lost. Both need my help, but there may be yet a chance that Esendri has escaped from the clutches of his captors!"

Legolas frowned intently, contemplating the situation.

"Orcs are slow, Legolas, it will not be long ere we catch up with them. We have the advantage of moving in both daylight and at night!"

Legolas nodded, still not convinced. His hands caressed the long knife that he was grasping firmly.

Glorfindel heaved a sigh of relief. The Orcs might return, and Legolas was defenceless.

"So be it!" Legolas said, face unreadable, "I assume we are to set off immediately. Do any tracks lead from the area?"

"Before we leave, Legolas, I must ask that you swear by the Valar to heed my words. I shall not risk both your lives by your stubbornness

A flush rose in the other's cheeks in being thus addressed. Legolas was disgusted with himself, for slowing the party down, resulting in Esendri being taken captive If not for him, the party would have already crossed the high-Pass.

Sensing the other's impatience, he nodded resolutely, anxious to be on the move.

"The tracks lead down the side of the slopes. They were headed north. Bear it mind, too, that I am no tracker. The mysteries of the ground are all too often lost to me.

"Ready yourself for our forward journey, and do not move ere I return," Glorfindel commanded, before slipping off.

Legolas could only sit helplessly, and pull his cloak tightly around him, fighting to keep his panic down.

Barely five minutes passed before the Eldar returned.

"The weather grows ever more ominous. I fear a storm will hit us before daybreak. There are no traces of Nardawin and the other steeds. There is something strange at work here; something that sets its will against us!"

"And the tracks?"

"They lead north. Hugging the slopes of the mountain, they vanish into the horizon. We must not tarry!"

Legolas sprang to his feet, surprised at having regained some of his dexterity. Perhaps, his condition was not as bad as it seemed. The endless darkness was starting to eat at him, and he was glad of having something to focus on at the moment. Already, he could feel his hearing becoming more sensitive, in a marked attempt to compensate for the loss of his sight.

The Eldar touched his arm and motioned in the direction in which they were to take. Glorfindel noted the ungainliness of his poise, but was still very much amazed by his ability to adapt so quickly. Still, he followed Legolas closely, keeping a careful lookout for any dangers or obstacles that might hinder him.

***

Four hours passed before the Elves were forced to stop. The wind and rain were coming down with a vengeance, and even Legolas could not help but admit to himself that he was in no state to continue. Already, he was shivering violently from the cold.

Collapsing to the floor, the soaked young Elf's chest heaved heavily, and his limbs felt like lead.

"Even the Misty Mountains work against us! I fear the tracks will be lost in the heavy downpour!" Legolas was unable to keep the dismay out of his voice. "Mind me not, Glorfindel, and press on, for this rain surely does not dampen your spirits!"

"I will have none of this talk, neth ernil! Have I not made myself clear? I will not abandon you! All talk of this must cease! The storm will pass, and dawn is breaking."

"Nae, Glorfindel, that it should come to this! Shrinking from the rain!" exclaimed the young one, slapping the ground in frustration. His head was tilted to one side, ears straining to pick up any sound apart from the roaring of the rain and wind.

Glorfindel wrapped his own cloak around the prince. Legolas turned to the other, and. The wind was not giving up, and instead, seemed to whip itself up in a greater frenzy.

"Do not blame yourself, Legolas. You should not be ashamed; your resilience has been admirable."

Legolas was silent, instead concentrating on regaining as much strength as was possible, attempting to clear his mind of all thoughts, letting his body fight against the toxin.

Glorfindel could not help but find himself marvelling. How Legolas managed to keep himself calm under the circumstances was quite beyond him. Even an Elf with experiences of his own would have found it difficult. Still, he felt sure that his friend had many more surprises waiting for him, and concentrated instead on studying the pattern of the storm.

He jumped up violently as a sudden realisation dawned on him.

"We have been fools, Legolas! The storm clears not a few miles to the West!"

The fair head of the Elven prince jerked up as he heard the exclamation, excitement and hope on the pallid countenance.

"Then tarry not, Glorfindel. I am ready to leave." Legolas stood shakily, and placed a quaking hand on the Elflord's shoulder. "Only, the storm has made it impossible for me to sense any direction."

The Eldar did not answer, and instead squeezed the other's hand reassuringly, before starting off at a measured pace.

On the two Elves crawled, slowly working up their pace as Legolas grew more confident with every step. He slipped less on the slippery, rocky terrain with every metre they progressed. The better part of two hours passed in this manner, before they burst without warning out into a different world. The sun beat down with an intensity, but the air was distinctly heavy with moisture of the storm that plagued the lower altitudes of the mountains's flanks.

"Dry yourself and rest, Legolas. Who knows how long we will be within the centre of the storm!" Glorfindel said to Legolas, who was standing motionless, soaking in the sunlight, attempting to derive as much warmth as he could from the brilliant rays of the young sun.

"We should make use of this easing of the storm to press on, Glorfindel, for surely we have a better chance of overtaking the Orcs! I shall take my rest when Esendri has been rescued!"

Glorfindel thrust a flask of water in the direction of his friend as an answer.

"We set off, after you have taken a drink, for your throat must surely be parched, in spite of all the water pouring down on us!" he said wryly.

Legolas managed a small smile, and gratefully did as he was told, letting the water moisten his dry throat. The shivers were abating, he noticed with gratification, as the sun started to dry his wet body, and although the air was chilly due to their high elevation, it was a big improvement from stumbling about in the storm.

"Thank you, Glorfindel. Which direction should we take?"

The Elflord hesitated before replying, "The last sign we had was of them headed north. It is the course we should take if we are to have any hopes of locating them. Give me your word that you lie low and do not partake in the rescue itself, for in your condition, you will be more of a hindrance than a help!"

A curt nod of the head showed Legolas's unhappiness, but the Silvan Elf started off in a Northerly direction, picking out his way by the direction of the sun. Glorfindel hurried and fell soundlessly into step beside Legolas, noting that he was still shivering with the number of cloaks he had on.

Something caught the eye of the Eldar, and he rushed forward to examine it more closely. Legolas waited impatiently as he heard the other gather speed, knowing that he had spotted something.

"Ai, Legolas, the tracks are headed West towards the High Pass! They lead right out of the storm."

"Is there any sign of a captive, Glorfindel?" the young Elf said, hurrying to join the other, and pressed a palm against the ground, trying to wean more information.

Glorfindel's sharp eyes picked something out in the distance ahead. "The horses have been captured as well! Nardawin and Galdrier are with the foul creatures!"

"It matters not, Glorfindel! On we press, until their cursed heads are removed from the necks of the foul creatures! We cannot be far!" cried Legolas, before he started moving up the incline of the slopes, pushing forward as fast as his injured body allowed.

The Elflord could not contain a brief smile of amusement at his impatience. Legolas could be six feet under, and nothing would change his temperament.

"Indeed, Legolas, the situation looks promising, and we will be reunited with Esendri before sundown!"

He was greeted with silence, for Legolas was concentrating hard on moving as speedily as he could, picking his way laboriously through the rocky and grassy terrain, which was slowly giving way to the rocky landscape of the mountains.

It was a good three hours that they journeyed. The temperature of the surroundings plunged steeply, and the first signs of snow started appearing on hard ground.

Examining the ground around them, Glorfindel gave a satisfied nod as he saw tracks headed in the direction of the High Pass.

"The trail leads towards the Pass. It is curious that we have not yet caught up with them! It is strange too, that they seem not to have rested and hidden from the sun!"

distracted, Legolas stumbled and lost his footing, falling hard to the ground, where he remained, shivering furiously.

Glorfindel rushed up, face full of concern. He knelt down beside the quivering figure of his friend, offering a helping hand, only to be pushed away angrily.

"Ai, that I should be reduced to this by some Orc poison!" cried Legolas, "We should press forward, Glorfindel, once I catch my breath!"

"Nay, Legolas, do not blame yourself for this sorry state of affairs. From the tracks, we can be certain they had the two horses with them, and it seems as if they were making a huge hindrance of themselves, for they would surely never be taken willingly. That would impede their journey hugely, and we have a good chance of catching up. We have been journeying for close to ten hours, and you must rest!"

"Ten hours, and still no sign of our quarry," lamented the Sindarin prince. "Even so, I know not how much longer I can sustain this pace."

The admission came as no surprise to the Eldar, as he watched the other moving slowly into a sitting position, pulling his arms around the lean, trembling legs. The fair face of the young one was an impartial mask, the blue eyes empty and staring into emptiness, but his chest was heaving heavily, trying to recover from the arduous trek.

Minutes passed this way, Glorfindel ever watchful, letting the young one take his time to recover.

"Glorfindel, lead me to the tracks."

Not knowing what was on the other's mind, the Elflord acquiesced.

Kneeling down in the sparse snow, his palms lightly brushing the tracks, Legolas was silent for a few moments, before eventually looking up at the older Elf.

"These do not bear the mark of Orcs, Glorfindel! Look, the ground does not groan in hatred under their passing!"

Glorfindel breathed in sharply, chiding himself for not realising it earlier.

"Humans it is, then. 'Tis strange indeed!"

There was no answer, as Legolas continued to brush at the ground absently, his mind elsewhere.

It was Legolas who noticed the sound first, his head jerking up tersely, ears on the alert. A broad smile soon lent itself to his face.

"Ai! The tide has turned with us, for no sound could be more welcome than hooves of a newly-freed horse!" cried the Silvan Elf, leaping up.

The black mare burst into view a few minutes later, shrieking with delight. She headed straight for Legolas, and was embraced warmly. The other steed was not close behind. An examination by their masters reviewed them to be none the worse for their ordeal, and it was instead Nardawin who seemed more concerned for her master, nosing him worriedly.

Legolas laughed, and soft, quiet words escaped from his delicate lips, lyrical to the ears, as he sought to reassure his steed.

"Legolas, the men indeed bear a captive, and are a few good miles ahead of us. We must go after them on the steeds, but our progress will not be fast, as the rock and snow will do much to hinder us."

The Silvan Elf nodded, having already gleaned the same information from his own horse. The sic feeling in his stomach was starting to return as he thought how Esendri was still being held captive, and that his injury was preventing them from getting to him faster.

The questions remained, as both Elves swung themselves atop their horses, and sped quickly up the slopes.

It was hours before Esendri awoke. His head throbbed from the blow, and his throat was painfully dry.

He tested the bonds that wound around his limbs, and was noticed by his captor, who strode up to him. The man was big and burly, and wore clunky armour with jewels embedded in it.

"Our friend awakens." The voice, oily and smooth, was grating to the sensitive ears of the young Elf. "Has he the capability to speak the Common Tongue?"

His efforts were rewarded by a furious and unexpected blow in the chest as Esendri rammed his head into it. The man fell and landed heavily, hissing in rage. Picking himself up from the floor, he aimed a hard kick at the stomach of his captive, and smiled sardonically as he noted the pain it elicited in the eyes of the other.

Stepping back, he said, "So pretty, so fragile, yet so capable of drawing blood; like a rose."

Esendri met his gaze full on, grey eyes blazing with hatred.

"I have never met one of your kind before, Elf, and I have to say I was not prepared for your delicacy! It amazes me, how feminine the males of your kindred are, for you seem so much fairer than even the loveliest of our maidens," he carried on, seeing how his words seemed to draw out more anger. "Perhaps then, it would not be difficult to make you talk, and tell us of the whereabouts of your friend."

The words had the desired response, and Esendri's eyes filled with concern at the mention of his master. Yet, he bit his lip before he could respond verbally to the other's taunting, and his gaze turned stony, refusing to let on anymore than he already had.

"It is not you that we are after, for my men had made a mistake. We could do a deal, you and I. Reveal the hiding place of your friend, and I will set you free. It's that simple, surely you can see the benefits?"

Esendri made another attempt to take a swipe at the man. This time, it was avoided deftly. A brief signal brought two lackeys to him, and they pinned the struggling figure down to the ground, pressing his chest painfully on the cold, hard rock.

The man knelt down and grabbed the chin of the Elf, yanking his head up so that their eyes locked once more. His strong fingers squeezed tighter, enjoying their grip around the small, sharp jaw. His eyes glinted strangely as he saw the flesh go white and then dark red around them, and the wince which Esendri tried to contain.

"Perhaps then, I should teach you a few lessons, of what happens when Lord Marnor is disobeyed!" he said casually, before hitting the side of Esendri's temple with a stinging blow, his big fist making contact with a sickening thud.

A smile of satisfaction erupted, as he saw the eyes roll back, and the tense muscles of the Elf go limp. He let go of his vice-like grip on the jaw of the Elf, noting with approval the stubborn ugly red marks seared onto pale skin.

Signalling to his men, he watched as they blindfolded the servant, and placed the limp body into a thick sack.

"Ensure he does not come to when we are moving; heads will roll if he escapes!" he snarled at his men, before taking big strides away.

***

"Our quarry is not a few miles away," Glorfindel said, seeing the freshly made tracks in knee-deep snow. And it was not a bad thing too, he added to himself, noticing the tightly-drawn face of his companion. It had been two long hours of riding up the slopes of the mountains, and he could tell that Legolas was close to collapsing.

Dismounting, he ran over to the black mare, and helped the young one off his uneasy perch. Glorfindel noted with alarm the iciness of the other's hands, and the horrible tremors that seemed to have increased tenfold. As if on cue, Nardawin settled herself down in the snow, unfazed by the iciness, and looked worriedly at her master, who was almost unconscious. Glorfindel thanked her silently for her idea, and half carried Legolas to the mare, placing his back firmly against the warm body of the beast, before covering him with the cloaks. An inspection of the wound revealed that the poison was still flimsily being held under check.

Leaving strict instructions with the mare to prevent Legolas from straying once he awoke, Glorfindel remounted his steed, and was off in pursuit of the band of humans.

Five minutes later, the Elflord dismounted, and bode his steed to be on the lookout for danger. He then unsheathed his sword, and made his way soundlessly forward on his own. His quarry was beyond the slight rise in gradient, and it seemed as though they were labouring on slowly, from the sounds he could discern.

Nearer to the rise, the Elf crouched low, and proceeded forward cautiously, glad that the silver material he wore helped to conceal him. The thoughts that ran through his mind were focused; and his mind spun, working through his plan of attack. Hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, and the blade seemed to quiver, in anticipation of the action.

Once over the top, he took in the sight of a dozen men, fully armed, trudging arduously through the snow. They were a few hundred yards away. Glorfindel saw that the snow up to their knees. His amusement turned to anger and a red flush erupted in his cheeks as he saw a rough sack slung over the shoulder of one of the men.

Unable to contain his fury, the Elflord gave a great cry, and bore down upon the tail end of the column, all plans forgotten. That one of his kindred be treated with such disrespect by a mortal fanned the flames within him, and he struck out viciously, incapacitating the two men instantly, before taking down another two.

A rallying cry went up through the column. Resistance, however, proved futile, as Glorfindel hacked down on them mercilessly, driven by seething rage at their treatment of his friend. Wielding his sword, he disposed of all twelve men in mere minutes, emerging from the fight with nothing more than a few scratches.

Having seen to the captors, Glorfindel immediately rushed over to the sack that had been hastily thrown aside by its bearer when he attacked. Untying the firm knots that held the mouth pulled tightly closed, he anxiously pulled down the cover, only to reel back in surprise.

Instead of a shock of red hair, he was greeted by black tresses. Turning over the captive gingerly, he saw that the girl's face was pale, and a trickle of dried blood ran down the side of her forehead. The Elflord paused for a moment, stumped, before attempting to rouse her.

"Lady Yuvinel?" he called softly.

Glorfindel picked her up carefully and headed back in the direction of where his steed waited.

As they drew near, Glorfindel noted the lithe form of the prince impatiently awaiting their arrival. A cry escaped his lips as Legolas heard the arrival of his friend.

"Indeed it is you, Glorfindel!"

The Elflord answered in kind, aware that Legolas was still unable to see.

"The humans have been disposed of, Legolas!"

The distance between them lessened, and Glorfindel dismounted.

"The captive they held was not Esendri, Legolas," he said, watching the panic rising in the other's face, "However, you will find that she is not a stranger."

The look on the young Elf's face did not waver as he carefully spread a cloak upon the ground. Glorfindel laid the maiden down upon it, but not before giving a hurried glimpse to check Legolas, who was not looking well. However, he decided to ignore it for the time being.

"'Tis Lady Yuvinel," Glorfindel affirmed, noticing the frown of surprise and recognition that ran across the face of the other as he felt the soft locks of hair. "I know not what she was doing in the hands of such cruel men."

Legolas did not answer, and instead drew away sharply from her. Worry and confusion flashed in his face for brief moments, before they were replaced by a stony expression, his troubled, unseeing eyes gazing into the vast expanse.

"Do not fret, mellon-nîn. We will find Esendri."

The stirring of the girl broke the uneasy silence that hung between the pair, and the Elflord hurried to tend to her. Legolas he kept his distance, unwilling to let his disability show anymore than it already did.

The dark eyes fluttered open, and widened in shock. She sat up abruptly, confusion and fear taking hold of her. Her eyes darted around, and rested upon the lithe figure a few yards away, and she let out a small gasp.

"Legolas!" she cried.

A curt smile was the only response, and Yuvinel frowned in puzzlement.

"How feel you, Lady Yuvinel?" Glorfindel said.

"I am not hurt much," she said absently, frowning Legolas. "How did I come to be here?"

"We were chasing after Esendri, who was taken captive, and instead picked up the trail of your captors."

Comprehension dawned on the face of the maiden.

"It is him then, that the men were speaking of!"

"What did you hear?" Legolas asked sharply.

"A messenger bore the following news: Lord Marnor, who hails from the West of the Misty Mountains, had taken a valuable prisoner. They are taking him back to their stronghold there. However, I do not know why he has been taken."

"Legolas!" she cried, suddenly noticing how uneasy Legolas was. Leaping up, she rushed over, inhaling in surprise as she grasped his icy-cold hands. Her grip on them was relinquished as he shook himself away from her, and made an attempt to move away from her.

The maiden, however, was having none of that, and instead grabbed his arm. Tugging on it fiercely, she spun him around, only to be greeted by his ashen face and the unseeing eyes.

"The Orc poison," she said, dread filling her as she realised the grimness of his condition.

"Do not fret yourself with me." The words that erupted from the Silvan prince did not convince either of his companions.

"Legolas - " Glorfindel began, only to be cut short by the other.

"We must rescue Esendri, for he must surely be suffering greatly!" exclaimed Legolas. "It is imperative that we ride out this very instance, for the distance between us grows every moment we tarry!"

His friends glanced worriedly at each other, knowing very well that he spoke the truth. Yet, they could not help but feel apprehension for him. Yuvinel had noticed his shivering, and tears sprung to her eyes. She could tell he was suffering, and that his pride and concern for Esendri were the only things that kept him going.

The Elven prince swallowed hard, before striding purposefully to Nardawin, who looked balefully at Glorfindel. All the while, Legolas kept his face turned away from his companions, afraid of displaying any further discomfit or weakness than he already had.

Glorfindel sighed heavily, he had no choice but to do as Legolas had suggested, for they could not find any relief for him except in Imladris. Even then, he was beginning to feel doubt for the prince, for the poison was almost definitely starting to break through again. This time, there would be no saving his friend unless they got him to the refuge of the house of the half-Elven.

The young Elf was woken up by a sharp pain to his side. Struggling to open his eyes, he found a strange soldier staring down at him.

"Might this be your steed?"

Esendri looked up, head spinning, and his eyes dilated in a fleeting mixture of delight, followed by anger as they rested upon a splendid chestnut stallion being held down by four men with ropes. The horse was rearing wildly, and was letting out anguished screams as it fought them.

The Elf called out to the beast in his native tongue, "Lindral, heb-bellas, i lu teli!"

The men gaped openly with amazement as the wildly charging horse became instantly docile and allowed itself to be tied up.

"You are capable of speech," said a familiar, caustic voice, causing Esendri to startle. "We have paused for the night, and I want you to reconsider my earlier offer."

Casting a last look at the Elf laying on the ground, the swarthy man smirked and turned around.

Left to his own devices, Esendri managed to shift his position discretely to get a better view of his surroundings. It seemed as if a company of more than thirty men had taken him captive, each fully armed, their steeds well-built and powerful, flanks gleaming in the moonlight. A fire and a watch had been set up. They were relatively high up the slopes of the mountains, for the snow was deep, and the landscape sparse. His heart sank, seeing that even with Lindral's help, he would have difficulty escaping.

A dish was thrust in his face, a piece of cooked meat on it.

"You should have something to eat." The voice was hushed and surreptitious.

Esendri turned to see a young face, watching him eagerly. This man was different from the rest. Not older than twenty-five, he was leaner too, and had a dark bristle growing on his face. His intelligent eyes seemed to take in everything about the Elf, and there was unmistakeable curiousity in them.

"Do you not speak our tongue?" the young man said, not taking his eyes off Esendri for one moment. "I see that you comprehend what is going on, at the very least, and it would not surprise me if you could reply if you chose to! I have heard so much of your kind! This is the first time I've actually seen one of the first-born, and I must admit that you indeed do live up to the songs of old!"

The servant frowned quizzically. The man did not seem to have any bellicose intents. Yet, he was still distrustful.

"Do you come out of the forests of the East? I have heard stories of a great Elven king who dwells within the Woods. Judging from your appearance, it seems as though you are a Wood Elf!"

Upon seeing no response, the man offered the piece of meat to him again. "Fill your stomach, for the journey to come will be harsh. The conditions of the High Pass will be trying at the very best!"

Esendri recoiled from the sight of the cooked meat, disgusted.

The other sighed, and drew out a flask. "Perhaps then, a drink?"

He uncorked the flask, and approached the Elf cautiously.

"Come any nearer, and you will be sorry!" snarled the Elf, his defences flaring up upon seeing the other drawing near.

The man drew back, surprise in his features. "So, you speak after all!"

A black look from the Elf silenced him.

"You are proud too. Rest assured that I will reveal none of this to my leader! I must go now. Try to get some rest; we set off at dawn!"

And with that, the young man stole silently away, leaving the befuddled prisoner without a second glance.

Snow started to fall as the three companions rode through the night, gently and lightly at first, before gradually working itself up into a storm. The Elflord and girl could not help but throw worried glances at Legolas every few moments. He was not taking to the weather well.

They journeyed through the darkness, Glorfindel relying on his innate sense of direction to lead them along the way. It was fortuitous that the Eldar knew the Pass well, for anyone less experienced would have gotten lost.

The horses were hard-pressed to go any further, for their legs sank deep into the snow, which had deepened up to their shoulders. The wind whipped around their ears, but Glorfindel made the decision to press on, for he knew there would not be a chance of them finding any shelter on the hostile slopes. A quick check revealed that Legolas was still holding up, but for how long, Glorfindel could not tell. He could see that the prince's hands had turned blue from the cold. Yuvinel too was not faring well.

On they laboured, soon losing track of time. Glorfindel dismounted and walked between the two steeds, keeping a close eye on both of his charges, neither who would last very much longer.

As if on cue, the ground started to slope downwards. The surroundings grew lighter. The first rays of sun started to peek through the flurry of white that enveloped them. Glorfindel also noted with satisfaction that the wind was starting to let up, and thanked the Valar, for even the horses were close to dropping dead with exhaustion, and were shivering with cold and fatigue.

Another hour passed before it stopped snowing, giving way to a grey and cheerless sky. Seeing that Legolas had passed out on Nardawin, Glorfindel called the party to a halt, before hurriedly tending to the prince. Even his lips had turned blue from the cold, and his chest was barely moving. Yuvinel got off the horse unsteadily, looking no better. She watched anxiously as Glorfindel drew out a flask of liquid and fed a few drops to Legolas. He then passed it to her. The liquid burned its way down her throat, but had the desired effect, and she found herself able to move her frozen limbs again.

"Miruvor," Glorfindel said, and a grim smile came to his face as Legolas started to stir.

"I fear we have to carry on, as these are hardly ideal conditions to linger in, exhausted as our company may be," said Glorfindel to none in particular.

Yuvinel nodded, as did the Elven prince, who had recovered consciousness, but was still too ill to speak.

"Perhaps I should ride with you then, Legolas," Yuvinel offered.

To her surprise, no protests erupted, and instead, a weak but grateful smile was flashed at her.

Glorfindel helped Legolas onto Nardawin, and Yuvinel followed, taking a seat behind him, noting with alarm the iciness of his body. Legolas was drifting in and out of consciousness, and the maiden wrapped her body around his, attempting to pass on what little warmth on to him.

"We must journey for close to a day ere we can set a fire going," said Glorfindel, trying to hide the despair he felt.

It was not long before the sun burst through the clouds, warming the bedraggled party. Legolas recovered enough to be able to insist on riding behind Yuvinel, where he conversed with her, telling her tales of his homeland, describing the various beasts and trees he loved so dearly. She listened, although the worry did not lessen, for he was so cold, and his speech was slurred. He drifted off from time to time, leaving his sentences trailing.

Eventually, the terrain got friendlier, the snow gradually giving way to the first signs of life, bringing a smile to the face of the tired travellers. Even the horses were rejuvenated, and started walking with renewed strength.

"It will not be long before we find the shelter we seek!" Glorfindel said, leaping onto his steed.

The promised shelter materialised, a small cluster of bushes just tall enough to enable some protection from the elements. Legolas leapt off Nardawin, managing to keep his balance, and climbed atop a large rock, ears on the alert, listening hard, trying his best to pick up something from the sounds around, while the girl and Glorfindel set up camp.

Having got the makeshift camp ready, Glorfindel joined Legolas, looking out into the huge, open expanse.

"Legolas, I fear we have to make straight for Imladris."

The Silvan Elf swirled around, turning to face the Eldar, stricken.

"But - Esendri!"

"It is not a decision I wish to make!" snapped Glorfindel, "We are out of weapons, and I will not risk Yuvinel's well-being! We have to get back to Imladris and regroup. There is more to this than meets the eye! While I do not enjoy leaving a friend in need, you must understand that this is for the best!"

As expected, the prince did not reply, and made for the cover of the bushes, where he lay, back turned towards his companions. His mind was spinning. He knew that no amount of cajoling would turn Glorfindel around, as the tone in his made it clear that there would be no negotiating.

The soft night breeze did little to warm his chilled heart, and he started when he felt the warm hands of the maiden take his own icy ones.

"Legolas, rest, for we have much to cover tomorrow. Glorfindel has told me of his decision, and I cannot help but agree. Your body needs to be purged of the poison as soon as possible, and only then will you be able to be of any aid in rescuing Esendri!"

Her soothing words had little effect on his troubled mind, yet, he did not react angrily. Tears leapt to her eyes as she beheld the beautifully cold blue orbs, devoid of the sparkle they usually contained. She reached out gently and stroked his ashen cheek, marvelling at how cold and beautiful a creature he seemed, knowing that he was anything but.

Legolas relaxed visibly under her touch, and eventually fell into the world of strange Elvish dreams.

Glorfindel watched the goings-on, and heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the girl gently lay the limp hands of the Elf down upon the ground, before covering him with a thick cloak. The horses had settled down for the night as well, and he gestured for her to do the same, taking up the watch. Soon, his mind had started to wander, as he too entered the other realm of consciousness, even as his eyes remained wide open.

He was awoken by an anxious tug on the sleeve, and the frightened eyes of the maiden greeted him on his return to consciousness. Chiding himself for falling asleep, he stood up quickly.

"It's Legolas, Glorfindel! I am unable to rouse him!"

Glorfindel rushed over to Legolas, and his heart turned to ice. Huge convulsions wrecked the lithe body curled up on his side, as Legolas thrashed about wildly, bleeding hands clawing at the hard rock, eyes squeezed tightly shut. The poison had finally broken through the barrier, and was attacking the lean body with renewed intensity. Glorfindel chewed more leaves of the few healing herbs that remained, and stuffed them into the gaping wound, causing a greater bout of spasms to hit the young one, before he eventually passed into an fitful calm.

Mind racing, the Elflord turned towards Yuvinel. "We are a full five days of non-stop riding from Imladris. It is a trip that I will have to make alone, for Nardawin will not be able to take the strain. She will bear you there in her own time. It is imperative I ride out now, for not a moment is to be lost!"

Yuvinel nodded firmly, horrified eyes fixed upon the thin form.

Glorfindel strode over hastily and picked up the unconscious, shaking figure of his friend. Whistling for his steed, he leapt up, and was off with nary a word left, the limp body of the Elven prince held in his arms.

"Hang on, Legolas, Imladris awaits!" he whispered to the Silvan Elf, before driving his steed hard.

*****

A/N: Miruvor - 'nectar, drink of the Valar' or 'a special wine or cordial'

"I see you have not eaten!" exclaimed the young man, coming back to check upon the young Elf. The night had dragged on, and in spite of his misgivings, Esendri felt almost grateful for a familiar face.

Esendri did not reply, and instead fixed him with a piercing gaze. His suspicions had not been completely purged by the other's apparent genuine intents.

"Your silence is perfectly understandable, seeing as to how my comrades have mistreated you, but surely you have to eat!" said the man, bending down and loosening his bonds, before taking a seat.

"Mayhap your food is not to my liking," Esendri said as he gradually sat up into a more comfortable position.

The soldier looked up with delight and beamed at the Elf.

"You have decided to speak!" The astonishment in his voice was unmistakeable.

Esendri chose not to answer, and instead looked away. To his surprise, he found that that his hatred of the man had diminished greatly.

"I am sorry that you will not even consider eating the meat, but I have nothing else to offer!"

"I am a wood Elf, and we do not consume meat!" Esendri offered, "Elves can survive on little or no sustenance for days."

"You do not eat meat? Why, that is something I have never heard of! It is strange that you claim to be more resilient than us, for you seem so delicate! It also seems that I have forgotten my manners! I am Gallenon, son of Gallorin."

"My friends call me Esendri," replied the Elf, after a brief moments consideration.

"A pretty name indeed! It has always been my life's dream to meet one of your kind! The old songs contain mentions of the first-born, but I have never yet met anyone who has had the fortune to come across one of you! It is a shame that our meeting has to be under such circumstances, for I am sure it would have been more pleasurable if you had been in your natural element."

"A pity it is, that your deranged leader has decided kidnapping Elves is to be his new pastime!"

"I do apologise for his actions once again, I would free you, if not for that my family lives under his threat!" The young man's face grew dark. "It is up to you to believe it or not, but I do not wish to be here as much as you do!"

The Elf looked up sharply at the man, searching has face for any signs of deceit, before speaking, "Why have I been captured by your leader?"

"Alas, my friend, I am as much in the dark as you are. We crossed the Misty Mountains ten days ago. For what reason, he did not say. The men in this column are all members of his highly trusted Guards, and even we were not given any information."

"You claim your family is under threat, but you speak so freely of such matters! I find the two situations difficult to reconcile."

Gallenon looked at Esendri before chuckling softly. "I can see your mind is astute! If you take a look around you, you will see that the company lies asleep, for it is my turn to take up the watch."

"How came you then, to be in the service of as twisted a man as Marnor?"

A brief shadow flitted across the face of the man.

"Marnor rules over his kingdom with an iron fist. He enlists boys at the tender age of ten into training schools, where they are forced to work and are taught the mechanisms of warfare. The conditions are harsh. Those who show potential are allowed to progress. Those who do not are cast to work in the mines, spending the rest of their wretched lives underground, driving the furnaces of industry until they drop, their energy utterly spent. I was fortunate and avoided such a fate, for I performed well. In less than ten years, I now stand as a member of the palace Guards.

"But that has been enough about me; you should tell me more about yourself!"

The Elf smiled at his curiosity, taking his time before he spoke in his rhapsodic voice, choosing his words carefully.

"I hail from a land to the east of the Misty Mountains, known as Greenwood in your tongue."

"I see brevity is in your nature, my friend, or perhaps, you are distrustful of Man. There is no shame in admitting that, for it is with good reason as well. I have seen many deeds committed by men in my time, enough to make one give up all faith in our race forever, and condemn us to a doom, to dwell in the fires of Morgoth forever!"

"Ai, you speak as if I were a mere child, Gallenon!" exclaimed the Elf.

"For is that not what you are?"

"Mayhap in the eyes of my race, yes. However, I have walked Arda for more than a hundred years, and I must warn you that there is always more to an Elf than meets the eye. Do not let our frail and delicate constitution take you in, for you may live to regret it!"

The soldier laughed. "I forget that you are immortal, and beg for your forgiveness. You must understand that it is difficult for one such as myself to look upon one of you and wonder at the innocence and grace you exude. There is much wisdom possessed by your kind, more than Man can ever hope to learn."

"That is only so because we listen to the Earth, for she has great things to impart to her children."

"You speak the truth, Master Esendri, but I fear her secrets are forever lost to my race!"

"Nay, her knowledge is there for all that are willing to learn."

"I will bear that in mind. Alas, dawn draws nigh, and I must return to my post, for it will not be long before they awaken. I beg for your forgiveness for how Marnor treats you, for his is a heart blacker than coal even. I shall attempt to convince him of your agreeing to cooperate with us, and hopefully, your form need not be bound in such a shameful manner. Then, escape might be an option."

"I thank you for your efforts, friend."

A brief and apologetic smile, and the other was behind him, pulling on the rough ropes, returning them to their previous painful hold.

"I apologise once again for the way you are being treated, I hope to be able to speak with you soon, for your company is definitely more preferable to ignorant soldiers!"

Esendri had not the chance to open his mouth when the other slipped silently out of sight. The man was interesting. Perhaps Esendri had been overtly hasty in branding them as uncivilised beings, brought about by the souring or relations that resulted from the breaking of the great alliance between Elves and Men brought about by Isildur's betrayal.

His prejudices all came back to him, however, as a sharp kick was aimed at his stomach. Trying not to wince in pain, he looked up into the cruel eyes of Marnor.

"I am told you are willing to consider a deal?" asked the man.

Esendri met his gaze squarely, barely attempting to conceal his contempt and hatred.

"I see you will only speak to the good Captain. If that is what you wish, so be it. However, there are more important things we have to attend to, and you will just have to wait your turn!" Unable to resist his feeling of power, over the Elf, the man squatted down once again, and grabbed his jaw. Stroking the fair cheek with his other hand, he whispered, "Is that something you can do, Elf?"

It was all Esendri could do not to lash out at him in. A hot rush of rage and humiliation welled up in him, and he fought hard to maintain his passiveness. The human seemed disappointed in his failure to draw a response, for he stood up, and left without a second glance at his captive.

The servant breathed a sigh of relief. Gallenon was putting his family's lives at stake for him, and he had almost blown it away by his impulsiveness. It was more like something Legolas would do, failing to keep his pride and rashness under check. His insides lurched, remembering his master. A rising wave of panic came up in him as he remembered how he had failed to protect him. He wondered if Legolas had managed to escape unscathed, and felt his heart grow numb at the thought that anything would happen to him.

His thoughts were cut short by the arrival of a soldier, who picked him up, and placed him on the back of a horse, fastening him to the saddle like a sack of potatoes. If not for his earlier conversation with Gallenon, this would surely have caused Esendri to explode with bitter rage, and he would have attempted an attack. Instead, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself, and ignored the soldiers around him.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, as the Elf withdrew into himself. They descended the slopes of the Mountains. Once or twice, Esendri managed to catch a glimpse of a very subdued and forlorn Lindral, tied up with as many ropes as his master. Each time, he sent the steed calming waves of the magic, in an attempt to reassure him.

Eventually, the company stopped for the night, and Esendri was taken off the horse and tossed roughly aside. A fire was set up, and he could pick out their rancorous laughter as they sat around and ate their cooked meat, the acrid smell of charred flesh rising and stinging his nose, making him feel ill. In time, the grating voices dropped off, as the men retired for the night.

A familiar step announced Gallenon's return. He did not speak, and instead bent down to loosen the tight bindings, before waiting patiently for Esendri to struggle to a seating position.

"Thank you, Gallenon."

"Alas, Esendri, that I did not manage to lessen your suffering any earlier."

Esendri nodded appreciatively, although his eyes were distant, and his mind elsewhere.

"Esendri?"

The prisoner started from his thoughts at the touch of the other. He smiled, unconvincingly at the other, attempting to hide his distress.

"Do the ropes hurt you?" enquired his friend.

"Nay, Gallenon, it is my master that I worry for."

"Your master? I did not know that Elves had servants."

"Not in the way of your race, Gallenon."

"I apologise for my brusqueness; I did not mean it to be degrading. Why do you worry for him?"

"Ai, I believe that he is the one your Lord seeks. He was poisoned by the foul venom of Orcs that waylaid us on our journey," said Esendri, eyes masked at the thought that he had let Legolas down in such a time of need.

"That explains the search party sent! I did not know that the one Marnor seeks is your master! Do not fret, for the men who have been sent are weak and foolish, and I do not doubt that they will not be able to succeed.!"

"You do not understand, he has been blinded by the poison!"

"In that case, I do not know what to say in order to comfort you. It is beyond my ability to help, but I do promise to alert you of any news."

There was no reply.

"If it is of any consolation, I have managed to glean the following information: we are headed back to our city, as Marnor believes there to be a threat. You are to be taken along. Once we reach the castle, hopefully the confusion will allow me to set you free without raising too much suspicion."

Esendri nodded absently.

"You seem very concerned for your master. It strikes me that your relationship must transcend that of a master and a servant?"

"Ai, he was the first friend I ever had. We were then mere boys. I can never repay the kindness he has shown to me."

"You were already his servant then? I can never fathom the ways of your kind!"

"Indeed. My family has always served his. My parents were killed by Orcs, and the King took me in, and I have waited on his son ever since!"

"An Elven prince!"

"Not so loud, Gallenon," said Esendri. "We cannot yet ascertain the reasons your leader has for wanting Legolas."

"I beg your pardon, Esendri, for I let my excitement get the better of me! He is called Legolas then"

An awkward silence hung in the air, as Esendri berated himself for revealing so much.

Gallenon seemed to read his thoughts. "Do not fret! Rest assured that my lips remain sealed! Alas, I fear I must once again leave you! Be patient, the time will come for you to make your escape."

Esendri maintained his quiet and let the captain tie him up again.

"I will be back," promised Gallenon.

The fourth day of riding dawned, and Glorfindel was worried beyond himself. His steed was close to dropping, and yet, he loathed to give up hope.

Looking down at the Elven prince, the Elflord felt helpless. The trembling had stopped, and Legolas's body was icy-cold. It was difficult to tell if he were even alive, for his breathing was so shallow, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. He did not like the look of the situation; it seemed that Legolas was giving up the fight. The poison was slowly establishing a death hold on the exhausted body of the Elf, and all Glorfindel could do was watch. To employ any more magic on the young Elf would mean certain death.

It was close to midday when his horse finally collapsed, giving in to fatigue. Glorfindel leapt off, laying Legolas's lean form on the ground, before attending to his steed. He spoke soft words of apology and poured cool water across the steaming flanks of the magnificent horse.

Eventually, Galdrier recovered sufficiently for Glorfindel to turn his attention to the young Elf. The absence of the soft moans that he had been uttering earlier bore testament to the advanced stage of his injury.

"Do not give up, Legolas, fight the poison!"

Glorfindel scooped up the body of his friend, and rose to his feet, determined to run the last miles to Imladris.

"Glorfindel!" A loud shout reverberated through the trees.

There was the sounding of hooves, and a dark-haired figure riding a splendid chestnut mare appeared shortly.

"Elrohir!" cried the Eldar.

"Ai!" shouted the twin, leaping off his horse, eyes wide with horror upon seeing the limp form the other held in his hands.

"It is Legolas!" Elrohir cried in recognition, shocked to see the emaciated and pallid state of the Elven prince. He quickly ran a hand down Legolas's cheek, shuddering at the frostiness of the skin. There were tears in his eyes.

"He has the poison of Orcs pulsing through him. Elrohir, take him to Imladris; Galdrier cannot take a step further. For four days, I have pushed him, and I fear for him too!"

Elrohir nodded, his expression determined as he gathered up the body of the Elven prince in his arms.

"Rest assured that Legolas will be taken to ada as swift as Danedine can bear, Glorfindel. I will see you under the eaves of Imladris!"

Scarcely had Glorfindel the chance to answer when the dark-haired Elf sped off like the wind, clasping the form of his friend tightly to his chest, attempting to provide as much warmth as was necessary to keep him alive.

***

The swiftness of Danedine made the world of difference, and Elrohir reached his home as dawn was breaking on the fifth day. Legolas had almost ceased breathing, and Elrohir quickly carried his motionless form through the hallways of his house.

He was greeted by his twin, and they both were ushered into a guest chamber. Servants were sent for their father, and Elrohir lay Legolas down upon the soft satin sheets, where his icy form was immediately wrapped in warm layers.

"Ada!" cried Elrohir, worry and tiredness in his eyes, as he saw his father approaching.

"'Tis the poison of Orcs, according to Glorfindel, who is on his way back this moment," said his younger son, still unable to keep his eyes off the face of his friend.

The high-Lord of Imladris peeled back the layers and was greeted by the festering wound. He frowned, unsure of how to proceed. This poison was unlike anything he had seen before.

"Elladan, take your brother back to his chambers," he ordered firmly after taking a look at Elrohir's tightly-drawn face.

"Ada, I must stay with Legolas!" Elrohir protested.

"You will be of no help here, Elrohir, and I do not need another sick Elf on my hands," returned his father.

Once his sons had exited the room, Elrond quickly sent his servant to gather the required herbs, and started work on the poison, probing it with his touch, attempting to discern its nature. All the while, Legolas did not show the briefest response, and if not for the faint fluttering of his heart and the increasingly shallow breaths, one could almost mistake him for dead.

There the half-Elven stayed, later joined by his elder son, all through the day and night, employing his most powerful healing techniques, fighting against the poison. Initially, it seemed as though all hope was lost, as the Silvan Elf did not respond to the treatment administered. Eventually, Elrond's skill started to take effect, and the toxin started to be beaten back, slowly, but surely.

Glorfindel made his appearance at dusk, and was greeted warmly by the high-Lord. A brief smile flitted across his face as he noted the recession of the poison, before he too, was sent to rest by Elrond.

Elrohir returned to the side of his friend in the middle of the night, relieving his brother. Seeing the red flush in Legolas's cheeks, he looked up quizzically at his father.

"Indeed, Elrohir, the poison is strong, and I cannot yet say if the battle has been won. It is unlike any I have ever seen before, and that worries me greatly! However, his breathing has stabilised, and that is a positive sign," he added quickly, seeing the look of dismay.

The younger twin did not look convinced, and instead grasped the hand of his friend, noting that it still felt cold to the touch.

"It will be yet a while for the healing to take effect, and warmth to return to his body."

Elrohir nodded mutely, and settled down into a comfortable position, casting a watchful eye over his friend.

As dawn broke, a rustling at the door signalled Glorfindel's return, fully rested and recovered. He walked up to Elrond, and spoke a few quiet words to him, face full of concern. He was firmly reassured by the other, and a quick glance at the peacefully slumbering Legolas seemed to put his mind at ease.

Elrohir half-listened to the two Elflords as they conversed. He caught broken phrases here and there, but was too caught up in studying the face of his friend to pay full attention to their words. Elrond caught Elrohir's worry, and smiled reassuringly at him once again, attempting to allay his fears.

"Elrohir, the poison will be beaten back," said Glorfindel, seeing how worried the other was. He turned and looked at Elrond, unsure of how to continue.

"Indeed, Legolas will fight it, and already he is starting to recover from his ordeal! Rest assured that it will not come to be as it was once!"

The twin smiled weakly at the pair, grateful for their concern. Yet, the nagging feeling refused to go away. "Perhaps then it is time for a rest, ada, for it seems you are weary yourself! I will watch over Legolas, for it seems that your constant attention is no longer required."

Glorfindel agreed. Nodded appreciatively at Elrohir, he half-dragged Elrond out with him, bringing him down the corridors into his bedchamber.

Once within the privacy of the room, he turned to face Elrond.

"My lord, the use of your powers has worn you out, and you must rest! Legolas seems out of danger for the time being, and there is naught you can do for him now."

Elrond nodded, before taking a seat upon his bed. Glorfindel moved silently behind him, and started kneading his tight muscles. Elrond closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion and worry drain from him, drawing strength from the skilful and soothing touch.

"I do not claim to fathom this chain of events."

"We will discuss this after you have rested," said Glorfindel firmly.

Elrond sighed, before relenting, "As you insist, Glorfindel."

A slight chuckle, and there was a last brief touch on the small of his back, before Glorfindel left the room, leaving Elrond behind to his rest.

***

A soft stirring of the sheets startled Elrohir from his thoughts. Looking up, he was thrilled to see Legolas starting to toss about. He quickly rushed over and took a seat on the bed, and waited impatiently as the Elven prince awoke from his long slumber.

"Elrohir?" croaked Legolas, as his eyes slowly came into focus. The room refused to stop spinning, his head hurt, and his throat was dry. He struggled to remember the events of the previous days, and failed. The sunlight streaming into the room was hurting his eyes, and he squinted to shut out as much light as possible while struggling to see past the shape of the beaming Elrohir.

"Welcome back to Imladris, Lass," said Elrohir, aware that he was still disorientated.

The door closed softly, as Elrond slid in, eyes twinkling as he looked upon the pair.

"You possess much fighting spirit in you, neth pen," Elrond said, taking Legolas's pulse. Satisfied, he stepped back.

Elrohir coaxed some liquid down Legolas's throat once his father was done, much to the prince's indignation.

"I do not understand. How came I to be in Imladris? I cannot recall anything!"

"Glorfindel and Elrohir brought you here. For three days you have slumbered, but it is safe to say that the Orc poison has been banished. Mayhap it will take time for your eyes to adjust, but you are on your way to recovery."

"Glorfindel? Ai! The Orcs! Esendri!" cried Legolas, as events came flooding back to him at once. "Esendri still lies in the hands of those foul beasts!"

He pushed the sheets asides, and attempted to rise, but was quickly pushed down by Elrohir.

"You are still not fully recovered, Lass. Glorfindel and a host of our best set out a day ago with Elladan and Lady Yuvinel. They will see to it that Esendri is rescued!"

"Elrohir is right. Legolas, you barely escaped with your life," said Elrond, as he saw the beginnings of a mutinous expression on the face of the Elven prince. "You will be more of a hindrance if you were to go along. Do you think yourself able to ride in this state?"

Legolas closed his mouth, and swallowed the argument he was preparing to come up with.

"I apologise, ada," he muttered.

"Changed not a bit, you have, Legolas," teased Elrohir, as he recognised the all too familiar clenching of the jaw. "Ever the same, even though it has been years since you graced our house with your cheerful presence!"

His words had their desired effect, and Legolas let out a small laugh.

"Indeed, Roh, it has been long ere I visited! I must thank you both for saving me. Forgive my lack of manners, I had forgotten to thank you."

"You have always been good into landing in trouble, Legolas, and this was a particularly strong poison. Had you been brought to us but an hour later, you would have been beyond all aid. You are lucky to have regained your sight." Elrond waved the apology aside. "You must rest, as your body has yet to recover fully."

Elrond watched as his son forced a goblet of fluid lacked full of sleeping powders down the stubborn youngling's throat, and almost let out a chuckle as he saw the resistance mounted by the young Elf fading as the powers of the herb took its effect.

Thinking about the whole situation caused lines of worry to appear once more on his face, for he knew how close to the brink Legolas had been when he was brought to Rivendell. That he could not identify the poison only served to add to his concern.

Having made sure that Legolas was fast asleep, Elrond exited the room, and made his way up to his bedchambers once more. Middle-Earth stood at the precipice of danger, he could feel it in his bones. And not having any knowledge only exacerbated his feeling of dread and fear.

The thick metal doors slammed, the vibrations ricocheting off the cold stone walls. Esendri sat up, rubbing his wrists, mind whirring. They had marched on relentlessly for the last three days, rarely stopping for more than an hour at a time. Their captive was cast into the fetid dungeons once they reached the city.

He heard a scampering, revealing the presence of rats, and an idea hit him. A soft sound escaped his lips. The rat paused in its scavenging, waiting, listening. Esendri tried again.

He waited as the snout of the creature was raised in curiousity, sniffing the air. There was confusion in its eyes, as it studied the Elf. A smile broke upon the face of the Elf as he felt the familiar tingling of magic rush over him. The rat's mind opened up to him. Having gained the trust of the creature, Esendri spoke to it, before the air around him shimmered briefly before the connection was lost.

He sank back against the wall, exhausted, watching with satisfaction as the rat turned and left. His captivity had weakened him more than he had imagined, and the lack of life in the stone prison had meant that much energy had to be used in order for him to communicate with the animal. Esendri shut his eyes, concentrating his thoughts on his homeland, removing himself from the cold, hard stone that surrounded him.

There he slumped, for what seemed like eternity until footsteps sounded in the corridor. His eyes flew open, and he leapt to his feet, ready for any confrontation.

The footsteps drew nearer, and paused outside his door, before a steel plate was shoved through an opening into the small cell, a thin soup and piece of hard bread placed in it.

"Food for an Elf!" A sarcastic voice laughed.

Esendri's face flushed, but he did not deign to respond. He walked over and studied the plate. Dismay filled his heart, as he realised the fix he was in. Although Elves could survive without sustenance for significant periods of time, they were by no means able to achieve this without the loss of their fighting prowess. It had been a week since he had had anything to eat, and Esendri could feel his strength starting to ebb.

Picking up the bread, Esendri picked at it, producing crumbs and dropping them to the floor, watching absently as rats darted in and out, grabbing whatever they could before disappearing in the cracks. He continued in this fashion, deep in thought, when his fingers closed in on something unusual.

The Elf broke away the remnants of the bread to reveal a thin parchment no wider than an inch. Esendri smiled for the first time in days when he saw the hastily scribbled words. Have faith. Gallenon had not forgotten his promise.

***

Yuvinel's steed screeched to a halt abruptly. Even so, the speed at which she had mastered the basics of horsemanship astonished both her and the Elves. Barely a fortnight after that first ride, she found herself capable of holding herself upright upon the horse's. There was something about the Elves that made her feel so at home, even more so than she had been with her own people.

"How fare you, Lady Yuvinel?" Elladan pulled up alongside her.

She smiled at him before replying, "Do not worry about me, I can still muster the strength to push on. We are no more than a day's journey from Umstraag."

"There seems to be more to you than meets the eye," Elladan said, eyes scanning his surroundings. "From where do you hail?"

"I am afraid I will disappoint you with my answer, Elladan, for I am but a mere woodsman's daughter. My father and I led a simple existence off the forest, making do with what we had. That was before Marnor broke into our lives, and killed my father!"

Elladan reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and nodded comfortingly. A long silence passed before she spoke again.

"It was early in spring, and my father made a decision to visit the city of Umstraag. It seemed as if he was planning to meet someone. I went along, as he did not want me staying behind alone.

"The city was unlike anything I had ever seen before; it was so easy to get swept away by it all! However, things started to go wrong once we got there. The contact my father was supposed to meet did not turn up, and we spent the better part of two weeks searching for him before my father started to become agitated. On the fifteenth day of our stay, we ran into the person whom we pursue: the Lord of the city, Marnor.

"It was a day just like any other, and I was out on my own, exploring the marketplace, when a strange hush fell over the cacophonous crowd. Loud trumpets started blaring, and heralds announced the passing through of the Lord. Everyone fell to their knees and cast their heads down. I risked a glance up at the host that rode past, and my eyes met that of a man of about sixty. All I remember is his eyes, hard and cruel, and I felt myself being compelled to drop my gaze.

"The company passed through without much incident, but having returned to our temporary dwelling for less than two hours, the peaceful atmosphere was shattered by a page-boy's arrival. Flustered and scared, he informed my father and I to flee, for the order had been sent out for my capture. He intended to take me as his bride!

"We left Umstraag under the cover of darkness. There was no sign of any pursuit, but we pushed on. Even after we returned, there was no peace to be found, for they eventually caught up with us! How they did so, I do not know."

At this point, the girl's voice wavered, and tears sprang to her eyes.

Elladan nodded gravely as the maiden stopped in her narrative.

"I will speak to my father about this, for he will be able to offer some insight into the matter. Rest, while I consult Glorfindel about our next move."

Finding the Elflord deep in thought, Elladan approached carefully, not wanting to intrude. His presence was noted immediately, and Glorfindel looked up at him, a warm smile upon his face.

"The maiden informs me that we are but a day's journey from the stronghold. How do you plan we carry out the rescue?"

"I do believe it safe for us to attempt to enter the city under cover. We shall conceal our forms under our cloaks, and disguise our gaits. It is best we split up to avoid arousing suspicion."

"She spoke of a contact her father was searching for, and spies within Marnor's camp. From the sound of it, there is a rebellion."

"What else did she speak of?"

Elladan quickly recounted the conversation he had held with Yuvinel earlier.

"There is something about the girl, Elladan, do you see the way in which she acquires new skills? Her affinity in with the earth is astonishing for a human. She is more than a woodman's daughter. I failed to notice it at first, but it is becoming increasingly evident. Mayhap Legolas detected it on our very first encounter!"

The raven-haired Elf smiled at the mention of his friend. "Ai, Glorfindel, he would undoubtedly have an astute take on the matter. My brother informs me Legolas has an uncommon curiousity for the human race. As for the maiden, I am with your view about her identity. I suspect she does not know who she is!"

"We will dwell on this later. There are more pressing matters at hand. We set off at once."

"Indeed, my Lord Glorfindel," teased the other, before making his way back to his steed and the maiden.

Legolas slept on for the better part of two days. His progress was quicker than Elrond had dared to hope, and his spells of consciousness were spent in quiet conversation with Elrohir or his father, speaking of events since their last parting.

On the third day, he was allowed, much to his delight, a brief sojourn into the gardens. He had never been happy with being contained in a place, and it came to be such that Elrohir chanced across the fair Elf, dressed in flowing white robes, wandering the pathways of the garden. The sight caused him to breathe in hard. Legolas had his hair let loose, and there was such an ethereal air of peacefulness that Elrohir had to blink to make sure it was not a hallucination.

"Legolas," he whispered.

The Elven prince looked up from his examination of a flower and smiled, a sweet, gentle smile.

"I see ada has consented to your venturing out of the room," Elrohir said, recovering quickly from his initial wonderment. "It seems you are enjoying every moment of your freedom!"

"Ai, Elrohir, I am most at home with trees and beasts. Surely you know that to keep me locked within four walls would mean certain death!" The Elven prince laughed, his face showing the joy at having been allowed outdoors. "For there exists no better healing than that offered to us by the earth."

Elrohir nodded mutely, aware of the heightened level of affinity with the earth Legolas possessed.

"Do not fret, Elrohir, for it is something one comes to learn if one is willing," said Legolas. His eyes twinkled suddenly as an idea hit him. A wide smile slowly spread across his face.

"Nay, Legolas, not another of your schemes!" Elrohir recognised the look for what it was.

Legolas grabbed his arm and led him through the garden, ignoring half-hearted protests erupting from his mouth.

Coming up to an oak tree, Legolas grabbed his friend's palm, placing it on the broad trunk.

"What do you feel, Roh?"

Elrohir frowned, unsure of what he was driving at.

"What? Legolas?" he asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Legolas pressed a finger to his lips, silencing the stem of questions. "Let yourself go, Roh. Feel."

The younger son of Elrond closed his eyes, concentrating hard on the tree. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, all he felt was a rough bark.

Legolas placed his own hand over his friend's, and silently called upon the magic. He did so quietly and gently, aware of how new Elrohir was to this, afraid of overwhelming him. He heard the astonished gasp, as an inexplicable warmth filled them both. Then, slowly, Legolas removed his palm.

After a while, Elrohir opened his eyes, filled with wonder and amazement as he regarded the bemused blue orbs. He had felt it, a strange, pulsing, throbbing sensation, full of emotion, wisdom, strength, and grace. The link was maintained for a brief instant after Legolas let go.

"It is there, Elrohir, you need only to learn how to listen to it," said Legolas, his eyes filled with appreciation as he lightly stroked the bark.

"What else can you do, Lass?"

Legolas smiled secretively and picked up an acorn from the ground. He knelt down on a patch of soft soil, and buried the acorn. He then pressed both palms to the earth, and seemed to fall into a light trance. After a few minutes in which he remained unmoving, he broke off contact with the ground, and Elrohir had to stop himself from crying out in surprise as a tiny shoot began to fight its way out of the Earth, slowly but surely, before stopping as two juvenile leaves were formed.

"Might I remind you that the gardens of Imladris are still under my command, Prince Legolas of Eryn Galen!" A soft voice chided, announcing the presence of the high-Lord, his eyes twinkling as he beheld the pair, Legolas looking triumphant, while his son's eyes were wide with astonishment.

"Ada!" Elrohir exclaimed, barely unable to contain his excitement.

"I seek your forgiveness, ada, I did not mean to alter your immaculately kept garden!" said Legolas, mischief in his eyes.

"Did you not see what he did?"

"Indeed, you possess skills I have never before seen, tithen ernil. However, I am afraid I must insist on putting an end to your fun, and that you must return to your chambers."

"Ada!" cried the fair prince, dismay upon his face. "I have recovered fully!"

A raised eyebrow was the only answer, and the lean shoulders slumped in resignation. Legolas knew there was no point in arguing with the high-Lord, and instead turned and started to head back towards the house, followed by Elrohir.

Elrond stared quizzically at the back of the retreating figure. He shared Elrohir's wonder and astonishment, having seen the Silvan Elf working with the acorn. While the Silvan Elves were known for their affinity with the Earth, this was surely something uncommon. It explained the remarkable resilience and healing ability of the young one, and also accounted for the strong, vibrant pulses that he always felt while working on Legolas. The matter would have to be more thoroughly pursued.

***

In the meantime, the pair of Elves made it back to the bedchamber, and sat, speaking quietly, on the bed, Elrohir still flushed from his experience.

"How came you to possess such magic, Legolas?"

"I do not know the answer, for it has been with me for as long as I can recall. Given to me by nature itself, even I do not claim to have a complete understanding of it."

Elrohir nodded, considering his words before speaking again. "Yet, you have managed to keep it hidden from us. Even ada did not have knowledge of the magic you possess!"

"I did not see the need to reveal it," said the fair prince, "It would not have changed anything."

"Do all Silvan Elves possess it then?"

"Nay, Elrohir, even my father does not know of it. It has been useful. The number of things Esendri and I have managed to pull off as a result! Only my mother had any idea of what was going on."

Elrohir noted the strain in Legolas's face, and knew that he was more tired than he would like to admit.

"You are indeed privileged to have control of such magic. See to it that it is put to good use." Elrohir handed a goblet over to Legolas, hoping he would not notice that it contained sleep-inducing herbs.

Just as he had hoped, Legolas accepted the drink gratefully, and it was only when the power of the rink started to take its effect did he realise what had been done to him. Legolas gave a weak protest before he sunk into a deep sleep. Elrohir managed a brief, apologetic smile, and caught his falling form. Covering him with a light blanket, he left in search of his father.

He came across the high-Lord of Imladris in his study, carefully examining an ancient parchment.

"Ada?" he called softly.

Elrond looked up and smiled warmly at his younger son. "I expect you have come to speak to me about Legolas?"

"Indeed. He is sleeping, for I had to administer him a strong dose of the sleeping potion. He was exhausted from the walk."

Elrond frowned at his words. "He has yet to fully recover, and is still vulnerable." He rose quickly, leaving the study, heading back to the bedchambers of the Elven prince.

Entering the room, he noted the serene face of Legolas, eyes glazed over in sleep. Elrond gently pushed aside the sheets and undid the light tunic the slumbering form wore, revealing to Elrohir a faint, calloused scar where the wound had been.

"It has healed well, but I am afraid the scar will remain," said the Elflord, rubbing at the uneven skin with his fingertip.

"Why one of such beauty be made to carry such scars, I do not fathom."

"The workings of the Valar are mysterious and unknown to us. Suffering strengthens us all and helps us grow in our beauty," said Elrond, smiling serenely at the young one, "Mayhap you do not understand it, but give it a few millennia and you will!"

"What do you know of the magic Legolas possesses? He says even Thranduil has no knowledge of it!"

"Does that surprise you, Elrohir? Indeed, I was as astonished as you were, but much less in awe of it. Such magic is rare, but fraught with danger. It is raw and undeveloped, and you should know that untutored wielders of such powers are easily led astray. It will have to be investigated more thoroughly. That aside, keep an eye out on Legolas. Do not allow any of the nightmares take hold of him. Send a servant for me should anything become unmanageable. I need to return to my preparations, for your grandmother will be arriving soon. Hopefully, Glorfindel will have returned with Esendri by then."

Elrohir's face lit up. Galadriel seldom visited Imladris, and he was looking forward to seeing his grandmother again.

"Rest assured that I will watch over Legolas, ada!"

With a watchful glance cast upon his friend, Elrohir settled himself comfortably on a branch of the tree that grew into the room through the window, before sinking into a thoughtful trance.

*****
Sindarin Translations:
tithen ernil - little prince

Yuvinel moved through the bustling market square, face darkened, feminine form hidden under a loose-fitting tunic. The Elves had surprised her with their abilities at disguise, and she moved about as a pageboy from a foreign land, followed closely by Elladan and Gwenophor, a close friend of the twins's. It had earlier been decided that the trio be sent in first to assess the situation, and both Elves were heavily but not visibly armed lest any trouble break out.

She frowned, trying to remember the way, and her companions pretended to examine the goods of a nearby peddler. Neither spoke, aware of how conspicuous their accents would be, and they were putting on valiant attempts to blend in. However, their unmistakeably foreign air and graceful gaits were already attracting the stares of curious passers-by.

Aware of how much they were being watched, Yuvinel moved on, thankful that there were only two of them. The whole city appeared on edge, and the air was thick with apprehension. Her face lit up as she recognised a side street. She ducked down it, quickening her pace as the surroundings grew more familiar.

Yuvinel turned and beamed at her friends as she came up to a small door. Knocking on it softly, all three waited with baited breath. The door eventually slid open a crack, and an apprehensive face looked out at them.

"Allanor?" called Yuvinel softly.

The door was opened hesitantly to reveal a wizened old lady, bent over with age and hardship, a shawl draped over her thin, brittle shoulders. She quickly mentioned for all three to enter the house, before shutting the door and hastily slipping out of sight.

Yuvinel smiled at the Elves, who stood on either side of the girl, tense and alert, ready for anything. It was to their credit that neither overreacted when a tiny form hurled out from within the shadows and charged straight towards Yuvinel.

"Yuvinel!" squealed the little girl, clinging on joyously to the maiden's leg.

She bent down and picked up the child, her face shining as the little girl gurgled in delight.

A soft cough announced the presence of a dark, brooding figure wrapped in a soft cape. Elladan and Gwenophor turned and studied the new arrival carefully, mistrust on their faces.

"Yuvinel, you risk your very life by returning!" he said, and both Elves were struck by the youthfulness of his voice. "Marnor is still searching for you!"

He removed the cowl to reveal a boyish face of one barely in his twenties, face smooth and free of the bristle that the Elves had grown accustomed to seeing upon the faces of mortals in the city.

"I have returned as Marnor has taken one of our friends captives," she said, gesturing towards her companions.

"Elves!" the other cried, fighting to keep his voice under control as he noted their features. "Forgive my ignorance and excitement."

"I am Elladan, son of Elrond, and this is Gwenophor, son of Gwelahar. Marnor has taken one of our kindred captive. We seek to rescue him," Elladan said, his eyes fixed upon the mortal.

" I have had news of his prisoner. My brother is working to free him." The man's quiet, unassuming voice carried the weight of his sincerity. "It is a despicable deed, clapping one of the first-born in irons like a common criminal, and we are trying hard to ensure that his freedom is returned to him as soon as possible."

"Your brother?" asked Elladan, curiosity in his tone.

"Yes, my brother is a member of the elite palace Guards. He spoke of your friend and his plans to free him, but lacked the ability to do so. It will definitely be a lot easier, now that there are others to help. In the meantime, forgive my manners and do take a step through into the living room."

The man ushered all three into the adjacent room, taking over the small girl from the maiden. The little girl bubbled happily again, and reached out in the direction of the two Elves, attracted by their strange appearance.

"It seems that little Daniya has taken a liking to our companions!" laughed Allanor, amusement building in his voice as he noted the frowning creeping into the face of the raven-haired Elf. "Will you not take her from me, Elladan?"

Yuvinel stifled a giggle as Daniya was thrust into the arms of a very apprehensive Elladan, who held her out as one would a sack of potatoes, and gaped. Daniya, however, did not mirror any of his uneasiness, and instead cheerfully leaned forwards, grabbing a handful of his long hair, and tugging hard on it, drawing a painful wince.

"Elf!" she shouted, before proceeding to attempt another fistful. This time, her actions were pre-empted by Elladan, who stopped her by a quick grab of the hand and a stern expression.

To his uttermost horror, the smile on the girl's face vanished, replaced by a pout. Her mouth wavered, and tears sprang to her eyes.

The antics of the pair reduced Gwenophor into a helpless heap upon the floor, tears rolling down his face as he rock with silent laughter.

"Mayhap you think yourself better able to handle this mortal girl than me, Gwenophor!"

Fortunately for him, Yuvinel came to his rescue, scooping the stewing child into her arms, speaking to her. Elladan shot the still shaking Gwenophor a dark look, before taking a seat as indicated by Allanor at the small table by the fireplace.

"Forgive my friend, Allanor, for we are unused to dealing with children," said Gwenophor, sliding into a spot opposite Elladan, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"It is understandable. There have been few of you born to this age, and you both seem too young to have fought in the last great battle!" answered the man, bringing the kettle to a boil.

"You seem to know much about us for a mere mortal," said Elladan, unable to contain his curiosity any further.

Allanor smiled sagely, seeming so much older beyond his years. "All this I have learnt from my father, who had much knowledge of your kind, much that he had yet to pass to me before his death. It was a great regret of his that he did not meet one of you again before he died."

"Who are you?" asked Gwenophor.

"My roots are shrouded in the mists of the past. Even I do not fully know the history of my family, for my father died before he could pass it on to my brother and I. That we do not belong in this cursed city is for sure!"

His speech was cut shot abruptly by the arrival of another. Taller and broad, the man had a bristle on his face.

"Esendri was right after all!" he remarked excitedly upon noticing the Elves. "You have come to his aid!"

His comments drew sharp looks from the Elves, and Gwenophor stood up, distrust in his face. He was instantly pulled back by Elladan, who placed a restraining hand on his elbow.

"Forgive my intrusion. I am Gallenon, son of Gallorin, and this is my brother," said the newcomer, gesturing towards the younger man. "I was with the party that took your friend captive, and it might please you to know that he is well."

"That is glad news indeed," said Elladan, careful to keep his emotions under control.

"Lady Yuvinel, the Lord still seeks your capture. It seems a bargain has been struck with the Orcs," said the man, taking a seat at the table, and gratefully accepting the tankard of steaming tea offered to him by his brother. "An exchange, for the Orcs claimed to be the ones who killed your captives, clearly deceit on their part to get their hands on the Elf!"

"For whom do you work for?" cried Gwenophor.

"Gallenon, as I have told you earlier, is a member of the palace Guards," said Allanor, shooting a warning look at his brother.

"I do not mean you any harm! Esendri is a friend!"

Gwenophor narrowed his eyes but held his tongue.

"We must discuss this with Glorfindel." Yuvinel spoke for the first time.

Elladan winced inwardly, for he was yet undecided on the situation, and his companions had given much away. His instincts told him the men were genuine, but he did not wish to compromise the safety of his friends.

"Forgive us, for I must confer with my leader ere any decision be made. I will seek him out on my own."

"You speak the truth, my friend, for there are spies of Marnor about who would notice if a large group of us moved about. However, you need somebody to show you the way."

The young Elf could not resist a smile. "Little do you know about Elves then!"

Resounding footsteps unfamiliar to the ear roused the Elf from his stupor. It had been two days since his imprisonment, and the sterile stone fortress was starting to exert its toll on his body and mind. For the first time since his capture, cold shards of fear began to pick at his barely contained composure, but he fought at them doggedly.

The footsteps grew closer, and Esendri picked up the lighter step as compared to ones belonging to his normal jailers. Even then, it failed to hold his attention for long, and he sank back into his increasingly disillusioned state.

It was only when the key turned on the door before him did he return to the present. He looked up disinterestedly to see a strange, boyish face.

"Hello there," the boy said, a friendly smile lighting up his features. Delicately built, he could not have been a day above sixteen.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he continued, entering the cell before he received a response. He shut the door and turned to the Elf.

Esendri made a move to stand, but was gestured to remain where he was. He obeyed, glad to just have some company, even though he was not sure of the other's intentions. He eyed the boy, hesitant, unwilling to make the first move.

The boy smiled, before sitting down upon the squalid floor. It was then that Esendri noticed that his clothes of a crimson satin, sewn together with gold thread on his tunic. The rich material clung to his tapered form, tailored to suit him precisely. Yet, he seemed to take no notice of the rankness of the floor, and there he sat, his chiselled face framed by his unruly hair.

"I have come to inform you of your steed's escape," said the boy, watching his response intently.

As expected, the Elf leapt up with excitement, his face shining.

"Is Lindral well and far away? How did the escape come about?" His earlier shattered hopes began to start piecing themselves together as he chattered with joy derived from the news, the frostiness surrounding his emotions dissipating.

"Sit down and calm yourself, Esendri."

Esendri did as he was told, some of his joy replaced with suspicion at hearing his name. "Who are you?"

"I was wondering when you would ask. My friends call me Ifrit. I took your steed for a ride, and he threw me off his back as soon as I'd left the confines of the city, and escaped before I could recover from the shock," he winked and pointed at a small gash on his forehead before continuing, "I expect he will be on his way to alert your friends of your whereabouts?"

Esendri shook himself mentally. From what he could tell, it almost seemed as if Ifrit had wilfully released the horse. Why and how he managed to get to the beast was a mystery, for Marnor had been adamant that both Elf and steed be kept under strict surveillance.

"Gallenon sends word that your confinement will be ended."

"You are a friend of Gallenon's? How does he fair? You must caution him against putting his life at risk for my sake. Marnor is a dangerous man, and I fear for Gallenon. You too should take heed!"

Ifrit laughed at his words. "Don't you worry about me, there is no danger on my part. Gallenon is lying low for the moment, as there is much suspicion flying about in the city. These are uncertain times, but perhaps that might work best to our advantage."

Esendri smiled, joy filling his heart. He had sent word with the rat to Lindral to escape the first chance he had, and given his steed directions to send for help at Imladris.

"I shall leave you to your musings, for it would not do me good to be found here with you, especially not after my accident this morning. I hope that you are not being treated too appallingly, and shall see to it that the food sent to you is improved." He passed over a small package to the Elf.

"Thank you, Ifrit."

"Elladan too, has this to tell you: your master is well and recuperating at Imladris," said the boy, before shutting the door behind him.

His words, although soft, had the effect of a clap of thunder to the stunned Elf. Esendri shook his head. Surely he was hallucinating. There he sat for a full five minutes, trying to make sense of things, before he noticed the sack he held in his hands. Quickly opening it, he let out a gasp of shock as the familiar sight of lembas greeted him. He had not heard wrongly after all. His friends were in the vicinity, and Legolas was well! It was more than he could hope for. He felt himself grow lighter at the very thought, his bleak thoughts and claustrophobic fears dissipating. It seemed that the end of his imprisonment was in sight.

***

Elrohir was jolted from his light slumber by the opening of the door to the bedchamber. Night had come, and he had been drifting in and out of his sleep, waking periodically to ensure that Legolas was faring well.

"Gwathel!" he cried, and flew across the room, engulfing the newcomer in a tight embrace.

"It has been long indeed, muindor." The dark-haired beauty extricated herself lightly from his enthusiastic embrace. "Absence does make the heart grow fonder; Imladris grows lovelier with every day I spend away!"

Her brother beamed, beside himself with happiness. "How fare the fair leaves of Lori®¶n?"

"They lack the reason to grow more beautiful with your absence, Elrohir," teased Arwen, before her gentle eyes rested on the sleeping figure. She raised her eyebrows at Elrohir. "Another one of your projects?" she asked, referring to the many individuals drugged by her brothers in their numerous pranks.

Elrohir flushed deeply and replied, "You could say so, but °Ætis Legolas of Eryn Galen. He was brought to ada bearing the cursed poison of the Orcs and lies recovering from its toxic effects."

"Eryn Galen? What business does a Silvan Elf have in Imladris?"

"Ai, while it is true that Thranduil bears no love lost for ada, he can scarcely ignore the threat to his kingdom. He sent his son to hold council with ada. Glorfindel was sent to seek his presence, but instead returned with a barely alive Silvan prince. The other was kidnapped by a mortal warlord whose kingdom lies just south of Imladris. It seems that Silvan Elves have a knack for getting themselves into trouble."

"Why speak you of us in such a manner?" called a heated voice from the bed, signalling the awakening of an indignant Legolas.

Both Elves turned to find that Legolas had struggled up and was attempting to get out of bed.

"Mayhap you should seek to punish Glorfindel for his incapability to ensure the safety of two young Elves!" continued the Elven prince, his tone light and teasing.

"Speak to ada about it, I shall!" answered Elrohir.

Legolas got to his feet and walked up to Arwen, greeting her in the standard Elven embrace.

"From the light that shines from your very being, it seems to me that I am addressing the Even-Star. It has always been a regret of mine, never to have met you earlier. It seems too, that your reputation does no justice to your actual beauty."

"It seems to me that the fever has addled your brain, Thranduilion," said Elrohir, knowing that Legolas was teasing both himself and his sister.

"You are harsh on him, Elrohir, for has he not just awoken from the sleep you induced?"

Legolas laughed, his face lighting up.

"Ai, I would see you attempt to keep our little prince in one place, gwathel!"

"It would prove difficult beyond measure, undoubtedly!" Came the voice of Elrond from the open door.

"Ada!" all three young ones turned to face the newcomer.

He smiled back at them. "It might be of interest to you, Legolas, to know that Glorfindel has sent word. They have had unexpected help from within Umstraag, and expect to rescue Esendri tonight!"

As expected, the blue eyes shone with excitement and happiness. Å6¶5"My heart lightens to hear of such glad tidings, ada."

"For now, I wonder if you are well enough to grace tonight's banquet with your presence, for Lady Galadriel has arrived from Lothl®Ærien."

"Do you not see I have made a full recovery from the poison?"

"We shall leave then you to your preparations," Elrohir broke in. "I shall send servants with a selection of our finest ceremonial robes," he said, perfectly aware of Legolas's disdain for ornate garments. He then turned and left the room, followed by his sister and father, leaving a scowling Legolas behind.

Once they had rounded the corridor, a myriad of questions burst from the lips of the Elf maiden.

"Did Legolas not address you as Father?"

"Ai, ada took him in as a foster son on his first trip to Imladris. We decided to keep it a secret, for Thranduil would not have approved. He is proud, and still blames Imladris for the passing of Oropher. Legolas dwelt in Imladris for a year, his identity kept a secret to all but the three of us," interjected Elrohir, "Even Glorfindel, who was away at the time, was kept in the dark."

"But how came he to be in Imladris?"

"Elrohir and I chanced upon him while we were returning to Imladris. He was barely alive; it took him a year to recover from his injuries, and so he remained here. I must leave, for there are matters that call for my attention," Elrond stated abruptly, cut the conversation short, and left his children.

A look from his sister told Elrohir she expected a full explanation, and he sighed, motioning for her to follow him to his chambers.

Once within the privacy of his bedroom, Elrohir spoke, his thoughts bleak while facing his own recollections.

"Legolas was barely twenty when his mother was wounded mortally by a band of Orcs that waylaid them outside Eryn Galen. She gave up her life to save him. Brought back to the palace by Hunters, she breathed her last with Thranduil by her side. Legolas refused to accept that his mother had left them for good, as the concept of death was still novel and confusing to his young immortal spirit. He was convinced that she had sailed West to the shores of Valinor, and could not understand why she had abandoned him. He was forbidden to grieve by his father, which further compounded his belief that she had abandoned them. He did not remember the Orc-attack, and instead took it upon himself to search for her.

"Slipping off in the darkness of the night, Legolas somehow made it over the Misty Mountains, and we chanced across his wrecked body. He was young, and was not yet fully in possession of the powers of our kind, and the journey was torturous on him. His drive to seek out his mother was strong, but not strong enough to overcome the treacherous conditions of the pass, and he nearly succumbed to them fifty miles east of Imladris.

"Ada quickly repaired his physical wounds, but he still pined away for his mother. At that time, we had no clue as to who it was, for he would not tell us, and only called for his mother. Time and again, he tried to escape to the West, convinced that she was waiting for him there. We nearly lost him to grief when we got to the bottom of the situation and finally explained to him, but ada was determined not to. The battle to regain his spirit was eventually won, and by that time, he had become a part of our family. He left Imladris over a year after his mother's death to face up to his memories at home, only returning once since."

As her brother finished the story, Arwen looked at him, tears in her eyes.

"By the Valar, he has gone through so much!"

Elrohir did not respond, unsure of what to say, and it was a while before he spoke.

"I cannot help but worry for him."

"Elrohir, worry not, for Legolas is strong enough to pull through. You should have more faith in him."

Her brother looked up, face still shaded. "I will never forget the pain he went through, for I was there to see it! He is still a boy in spite of all appearances!"

"He will get through with your help, Roh."

"I can only hope so."

The three young Elves peered into the sitting room before being called by Elrond, who gestured towards the company of Lorién Elves. "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lorién, this is Legolas, son of Thranduil."

Both immortals smiled at a suddenly self-conscious Legolas, who bowed low before them.

Elrohir stepped up and greeted his grandparents with barely suppressed mirth at his friend's tongue-tied state.

Their attention was drawn by Elrond motioning towards two figures at the far end of the room. One was tall and elegant, cloaked in flowing robes of white, intelligent eyes glinting. The other was the complete opposite, his grey hair falling in unruly locks, a dishevelled look about him, raiment grey and tatty, yet still possessing an unmistakeable air of wisdom in his kindly face.

"Curunír, Mithrandir, this is my younger son, Elrohir, my daughter, Arwen, and Legolas of Eryn Galen."

All three greeted the members of the Istari respectfully, awe in each of their faces, for they had heard much of their great deeds.

"Elrohir bears a remarkable resemblance to you," said the Grey Pilgrim to the high-Lord, his eyes twinkling as he beheld the flustered young Elves.

Saruman smiled, eyes fixed upon Legolas's face, his lips curled up in a way more akin to a snarl, their coldness causing Legolas to shudder. A chill took hold of him, as he felt the other's piercing gaze refuse to abate. The Elven prince wondered at the man behind the cold mask. He noted that in contrast, Mithrandir had not even given him a second glance beyond the initial disinterested glance.

His thoughts were broken by a question from Elrohir, and the formal atmosphere was replaced with casual conversation. Still, Legolas could not help but find his attention being drawn to the two wizards.

He was similarly trapped as dinner was announced, and the Silvan Elf found himself seated at the far end of the long table. Elrohir had settled himself at a distance away from Legolas next to Galadriel, and was talking animatedly.

An irrational annoyance rose in Legolas as the ceaseless chatter and night wore on. All he wanted to do was to speak with Mithrandir or Saruman.

To his dismay, Legolas watched as first the Lorién Elves, and then the leader of the Istari took their leave from Elrond.

"Legolas?" the Elven prince jumped as he noted that Elrohir was peering at him in concern.

"It is late, you should rest!"

"Thank you, Roh," Legolas said, and followed the peredhel out of the room, after throwing a last glance at Mithrandir.

"Thranduil's son, you say he is?" Gandalf asked Elrond, his face grave.

"Ai, Mithrandir, why do you speak in this manner?"

"There is something - strange - about the boy. He seems to be radiating some kind of - "

"Magic?"

Gandalf nodded, surprise in his eyes. "Do you feel it too?"

"Nay, mellon-nîn. I have seen with my own eyes. It was not a day ago when he demonstrated his powers to Elrohir. I do not fathom how or why kept it hidden for so long. It is a mystery, and I thought I knew the boy well. It would not surprise me though, that he does not even know of the true nature and strength of his own powers."

"It came to him naturally then? I don't suppose Thranduil would have an idea of it! We must speak to Legolas and quiz him more closely. Only then can we have a grasp of what he is capable of."

"I feel your concern for this matter too, Mithrandir. He will need guidance. The power he possesses is not to be scoffed at, and neither must he reveal it casually. There are dark powers at work, ones that serve to corrupt him, and twist his abilities to their ill-use. While Legolas has a good heart and a strong will, I cannot say for sure that his mind will not be bent with trickery and deceit. There is much in his past that can be used as a weapon against himself. He is vulnerable."

Gandalf looked up at his words.

"His mother was slain by Orcs and outcast Dwarves."

The wise wizard nodded in understanding.

"He was a mere child when it happened, and is yet unable to deal with the loss. He keeps in under control for the better, where it does not affect him; but it is there beneath the surface, volatile and dangerous. He has adjusted remarkably well to the circumstances, to his credit, and has led as ordinary a life as one can get, as Thranduil's son."

"Thranduil is wiser than you give him credit for, Elrond," said Mithrandir.

"I do not deny having prejudice against him. I can never understand his being so distant from his own son! How a father can forbid his son to grieve for his mother, I do not know."

"Mayhap it is his way of dealing with the loss. Thranduil is proud, and to display one's emotions to others may be his idea of weakness!"

Elrond smiled bitterly, detecting the irony of the situation. "I see then where the young one gets his stubbornness from. I do not deny that Thranduil is wise and has a good heart. Also, Legolas might not know it, but his father cares for, and his proud of him."

"Do not be troubled by his seeming lack of parental love, Elrond! Can you not see that he is doted upon by many? Have you yourself not taken him under your wing? If there is any trouble with the boy, it would be an excessive outpouring of attention from those around him!"

"Ai, Mithrandir, these are not substitutes for the love of a father! He seeks Thranduil's approval, whether he wants to admit it or not, and it is something his father will never openly express! They are quite the pair!"

Before the Grey Pilgrim could answer, a loud whistling caught their attention. Elrond was out on the balcony in a flash, his keen eyes already picking up the source as a large bird wheeling above the rooftops of the slumbering city, its large wings casting an large shadow over the rooftops of Imladris.

Upon spotting the half-Elf, the eagle swooped in, landing on the railing of the balcony, its golden feathers shining in the moonlight.

Elrond glanced at Gandalf, puzzlement in his eyes, for eagles did not usually travel by night.

"What business brings you to Imladris in such a rush, Obsiran?"

"Elrond, trouble has come to Middle-Earth!"

A loud cry was let out before he could continue, and a figure pushed past wizard and Elflord, rushing up to the eagle.

"Obsiran, you are hurt!" Legolas cried, and started to examine a black wound on the breast of the eagle.

To his surprise, the eagle snapped at him fiercely, causing him to jump back.

"I have no time for this, Legolas!" he hissed sharply.

As the eagle spoke, it became evident to all three that his injury was worse than it appeared, for his body was swaying from side to side, and his words were slurred.

"My people came under attack from Orcs and giant spiders. Few managed to survive, for we were ambushed in the dark of the night. I have flown here to alert you, and my leader has gone to King Thranduil. I do not know what the situation in Eryn Galen is. One of my brothers whom King Thranduil sent to relay a message to you was killed a week ago. It was only upon my flight from our colony did I find his carcass deep with the forests of Eryn Galen, ripped to shreds by some beast. It was then that I realised the message had not been delivered."

To the horror of those present, the splendid beast slumped forward once he had finished speaking, blood spurting out from his beak. Legolas caught him with a cry as he fell, and the raven-haired Elf was over by the eagle's side in an instant, examining the wound.

"'Tis the same Orc poison!" he muttered to no one in particular. "Do not move him!"

Upon seeing the glazed eyes of his friend, Legolas could wait no further, and pressed his palm to the wound.

"Legolas, no! You will be hurt!" whispered the eagle hoarsely, realising what he was about to do.

Before Gandalf could interfere, the young Elf summoned upon the magic with all his strength, pouring the full effects of the power in his panic into the wound. An inexplicable feeling of satisfaction came over him, and a loud roar grew in his ears. The world ceased to exist, and all he could feel was the blissful sense of life, which he drank in eagerly. Just when he thought he was about to explode from the feeling of addictive euphoria, a sudden burst of pain filled him. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The light was blinding, and the waves of pain increased in intensity. The light grew brighter, exploding around him, before the Elf fell into darkness and emptiness.

When he awoke, Legolas found the grim face of Elrond looking down at him. Struggling to recall what had happened, he sat up, noticing that he was back in his bedchamber. His head was spinning from the after-effects of the magic, and he felt totally drained.

"Ada, how fares Obsiran?" he asked.

"He did not survive, Legolas. Mithrandir did not managed to stop you in time."

Legolas frowned at his words, unsure of what he had just heard.

"Ada?" he asked, only to be met with a stony gaze.

His heart went cold as the truth finally hit him. He had killed the eagle.

***

Saruman had been jolted awake by the sudden influx of magic. It was so strong, so intense, that he had felt it even as he slept. Sharp and powerful, it had disappeared in an instant, leaving no trace.

He got out of bed and walked over to the window. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

Frowning, he looked out at the peacefully slumbering city of Imladris. Had the Elves possession of such powerful magic?

A knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts, and the Grey Pilgrim entered his chambers.

"Saruman. I apologise for disturbing you so late at night."

"Do not worry, my friend, for can you not see I am not asleep? What business brings you here in such a state?"

"A colony of eagles close to Eryn Galen came under attack from Orcs and giant spiders. There were few survivors. The attack took place under the cover of nightfall."

"Spiders?"

"Yes, Saruman. I fear we might be witnessing the return of the great evil that plagued Middle-Earth during the First Age."

"How came you across such news?"

"One of the eagles managed to make his way to Imladris. He died shortly after delivering the message, despite the efforts of the Elves to heal him of the Orc poison."

"So, the Elves have command over a strong magic. It is as I have guessed."

The grey wizard did not reply.

"Do you know about it?"

"Nay, it is new and unknown to me!"

Saruman let out a breath of disappointment. "Surely you know more about the Elves than I do!"

"I shall leave you to your rest then, for the night is late and you have travelled far from Isengard. We shall speak of this later. Elrond is adamant that the Council be held only upon Glorfindel's return, and that is at least two days away."

The leader of the Istari nodded in acknowledgement and watched, as the other left the room.

Yuvinel watched as the Elves finished up their preparations. The summer sun had set, and the humdrum of the city gave way to an uneasy quiet. Once again, the unsettling feeling of being a part with the Elves came across her. Much to her surprise, the soft words spoken between them in their strange tongue were starting to sound familiar. Although she did not understand what they meant, the graceful lilt was strangely close to her heart, as if she had heart it before in some past lifetime.

"We are ready, Lady Yuvinel. The time has come for you to leave." Glorfindel's voice broke into her thoughts.

"I do not understand why I can't stay behind."

A frustrated noise escaped the Eldar's throat, before Elladan cut in gently. "Yuvinel, it is important that you take the message to Imladris should our mission fail."

Yuvinel grudgingly accepted, seeing that she was fighting a losing battle. The Elves watched as the girl mounted her steed. She was soon joined by Allanor and one of the Elves, Thangol, both dressed as foreign lords, Allanor's face hidden to avoid recognition. Daniya and Dwendyn, Allanor's mother, had earlier been taken out of the city.

"Allanor, consider your choice a final time, for there will be no turning back. You will be exiles, with no fixed home if you choose to help us."

"A life without a home is better than living under Marnor. I fear his wrath will eventually catch up with Daniya. It is best we leave for good. Gallenon, too, has made his choice. He is willing to bear responsibility for the raid."

"Your efforts are much appreciated, then. You are welcome to dwell in Imladris henceforth."

An enigmatic smile played across the features of the young man. "Besides, the rebellion against Marnor might well have entered into its final stages. There is yet hope that he might be overthrown. For now, we ride off!" He mounted his steed and rode off.

"We shall meet again," promised Yuvinel, before following Allanor.

Elladan waited until all three had vanished into the night before speaking, "The night grows late. Esendri languishes within the dungeons as we speak."

The other Elves nodded, turning to Glorfindel for instructions, who gave a curt nod, indicating they head towards the castle.

Gwenophor and Feanor took the lead, slipping off, followed shortly by Calethorn and Milnirtaur. Glorfindel gave a pause before motioning for Elladan to follow him.

Keeping to the shadows, both Elves made their way to the castle. They had decided that different routes were to be taken by each pair to minimise the chances of detection, and it was not long before their shadows cast lonely patterns along narrow alleyways of the city.

"Let us hope the contact is true to his word." Glorfindel had been sceptical about the whole endeavour from the beginning, not sharing Elladan's faith in the men.

"Mortal blood runs in my veins, and that of my father's, Glorfindel," the younger Elf said.

Glorfindel smiled, knowing that Elladan was teasing him. It was not long before they reached one of the castle's many entrances. Marnor was arrogant enough to believe in the strength of his city walls to build such a vulnerable castle. It only served their intents better, Glorfindel thought with satisfaction, as they entered the confines of the castle grounds easily, passing the slumbering sentries.

Elladan closed the gate behind them, and flashed a grin at Glorfindel. "How does your trust in mortals stand now, my Lord Glorfindel?"

"Be on the alert for a trap." To prove his point, he unsheathed his sword before proceeding.

They were joined by the other four, and following the instructions given to them by Gallenon, the party of Elves made their way to the entrance of the dungeons.

Light footsteps sounded, causing the Elves to tense.

"Elladan?" a voice called, as Gallenon materialised under the dim starlight.

Glorfindel gestured for him to be silent.

"Do not fret. The sentries have been drugged," said Gallenon, pushing open the door to the dungeons and stepping within.

As planned, Glorfindel, Elladan and Calethorn followed after him, leaving the other three behind to keep watch.

Descending into the gloomy interior of the prison, the Elves could not help but shiver at the cold, stony structure of the place. Foreboding doors of iron appeared on either side of the passageways, and the air was rank. Once in a while, a low murmuring told of faceless prisoners confined behind the slimy walls, punctuated occasionally by a loud scream that spoke of unseen horrors.

Glorfindel grabbed the sword-arm of Elladan, noting the red flush in his face, and the anger brewing within.

"We did not come here to free prisoners," he muttered, switching to their native tongue to emphasise the seriousness of the matter. The flickering flames that lit the corridors grew dimmer, and soon the Elves noted the lack of doors to either side.

After what seemed like eternity, Gallenon stopped in front of a sturdy door that stood on its own. The Elves felt their hearts beat faster as he undid the rusty mechanism.

The Elflord stepped into the tiny interior of the cell, lit only by the flickering dimness of Gallenon's torch.

The sight that greeted him almost caused Glorfindel to cry out with rage. A huddled form was scrunched up in a corner, his limbs shackled with heavy iron chains, and shudders wrecked through his body. His clothes were torn, and there were many wounds over his body.

"Esendri?" Glorfindel called. He strode over to the quivering form, and touched him.

Gallenon too entered the cell, and let out a gasp of shock and anger. He quickly undid the chains.

"I had no idea they did this to him!" he cried, "I knew only that they had moved him!"

His lips pursed into a thin line of hatred, Glorfindel scooped up the small Elf, and stepped quickly out of the cell. Elladan and Calethorn hurried after Glorfindel, who was taking long, angry steps back out of the dungeons.

It was not long before the party emerged from the dungeons, where they were greeted by their companions, who were holding a small figure captive.

"Glorfindel!" Gwenophor's face darkened when he saw Esendri.

"A captive?" asked Elladan.

"We did not wish to kill," said Feanor.

"Elladan?" called the captive, eyes bright beneath his hood.

"Master Ifrit!" exclaimed Gallenon, appearing behind the Elves. "He is not an enemy! Are you hurt?"

"No, Gallenon! The hour grows late, and your escape must be made! They will come for him in the morning, only to discover his flight. The entire city will be turned upside down, and no effort will be spared to find him again! The wrath of Marnor will be swift!"

He looked at Esendri, and his eyes seemed to dilate in sadness. "I apologise for the way they have treated you, my friend. It is a disgrace to the race of man!" he whispered.

"Now go!" he hissed at the puzzled Elves.

Gallenon set off after a nod of thanks, leading the company out of the castle, where they left the small figure standing forlornly in the moonlight.

Once out of the castle grounds, he took a northerly route, the Elves following in silence. Glorfindel thinking hard. There was something strange about the way Gallenon addressed the boy. A million questions burned in his head as he slipped through the cobbled pathways of the city, his burden doing little to encumber his efforts.

As they reached the city walls, a distinct feeling of unease swept over Glorfindel. Glancing over at Elladan, he could tell his feelings were shared by the other. To their dismay, rough voices were soon heard coming from the sentry post, and they could discern no less than five guards within.

Gallenon stepped into full view before they could stop him, walking right up to the guard post, motioning for the others to follow him.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"It is I!" Gallenon removed his cowl, revealing his features.

"Captain!" cried the guard in recognition. "What business brings you - "

He never got to complete his sentence, for the other swung up his sword, and incapacitated him with one powerful stroke.

A loud cry rose from the men within, and they sprung out to attack, swords unsheathed. Their resistance was short-lived, however, as the Elves took them down easily without much effort.

"Stop!" cried Gallenon, as Feanor was about to finish off the last sentry, who made use of the distraction to make his escape. "Let him flee!"

"What do you mean to do?" Glorfindel cried, emerging from within the shadows.

"The alarm will be raised! Grab their horses from the stables, and let us flee!"

The Elves obeyed his command, and the gate was flung open, and the Elves were off like the wind.

Once far from the castle, Glorfindel pulled astride Gallenon. "Have you lost your mind? The alert will have gone out for our capture!"

Gallenon smiled grimly. "Do not fear. Marnor will take a day to get any proper search party organised, and we will be away by then. I had to do this to ensure the innocent does not get punished for our deeds!"

"Why did you not tell me you had this planned all along?" demanded the Eldar.

"Would you have consented to it if you had known my plan? Look, our friends await our arrival!"

Glorfindel kept his misgivings to himself as they approached the boundaries of a forest, where Yuvinel, Thingol, and Allanor stood waiting.

Allanor rushed up to the party and eased Esendri off the horse.

"Savages," he muttered, settling the Elf down next to a tree.

Glorfindel and Elladan dismounted, and the latter started a brief examination of the Silvan Elf, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Whip lashes," he muttered to Glorfindel in their own tongue. "Incidents like this make me ashamed of the blood I harbour in my veins."

The reply was cut short by Esendri stirring. His eyes flickered briefly, before opening slowly. It was a while before he could orientate himself, and grew wide as they registered the presence of the other Elves.

"Glorfindel?" he croaked, struggling to clear his spinning head.

"'Tis I, Esendri. I am afraid we can tarry no further, in spite of your injuries, as Marnor will be upon us in an instant!"

Esendri laughed, feeling the strength returning to his leaden limbs. "Can you not see I am beginning to heal?"

Elladan let out a sigh of relief as he saw that Esendri spoke the truth.

"The stone prison, it cut you off from any form of life," said Glorfindel in sudden understanding.

"Yet, I believe a healing salve will not harm matters," said Elladan. "I hope aversion to aid is not a typical characteristic of all Silvan Elves!"

Esendri chuckled, his heart warming to the other. "From the look of it, you must be acquainted with a particular Silvan Elf!"

Elladan smiled, producing a vial and starting to apply its contents onto the other's injuries. "I trust then that you will not put up a royal struggle as the prince did when we attempted to heal him! I am Elladan, and these are my friends from Imladris.

"I have heard much of you and Master Elrohir!" Esendri said, before acknowledging the presence of the other Elves. "I have yet to thank you for saving me!"

The conversation was interrupted by Gallenon's approach.

"Gallenon!" called Esendri, his delicate face lighting up.

"How do you feel? I truly apologise for the treatment administered to you! There is no excuse I can make for the twisted nature of Marnor."

Esendri shrugged. "Do not make apologise for something you were not involved with, Gallenon. My injuries will heal, but I fear for the safety of you and your family. Surely this rescue was done at great cost!"

"The Elven healing ability and willingness to forgive is truly amazing," said Allanor, who had been listening. "Do not worry about our safety, for we have decided to flee and the cursed city of Umstraag! It is a decision we had been putting off for long, and it is with a glad heart that we leave it behind."

"But where would you stay?"

"We shall worry about that later, Esendri. Dawn is breaking, and Marnor would see to it that a large company is sent for your recapture. You were a valuable prisoner. Do you feel well enough to ride on your own?" Gallenon said, glancing worriedly at the sky.

Esendri scrambled to his feet, and walked over to a horse, mounting it without any difficulty. Elladan smiled in recognition of his strong spirit, and left to join the other Elves.

"Mayhap then, you should mount your own steed?" said Thingol, approaching Esendri with a familiar chestnut stallion.

"Silvan Elves!" muttered Glorfindel in jest, drawing a scowl. "We set out at once!" The Eldar gave a few rapid instructions to the Imladris Elves, who mounted their own horses.

"I fear we have to leave the stolen horses behind, for they are not up to the journey that lies ahead. With the Valar's blessing, they will find the freedom they so deserve, and not be recaptured into servitude again!" Glorfindel said

Yuvinel ran up and greeted Esendri joyously. The two exchanged a few brief words, before she addressed Elladan. "I am afraid Daniya will only ride with you. She has been asking after you the whole while!"

All present chortled upon seeing the dismayed and panicked look upon the peredhel's face.

"Ai, this cannot be!"

"We do not have time for this, Elladan," Glorfindel said, "I trust it is not too difficult to have her seated in front as you ride!"

A glum resignation took over Elladan, who sighed and walked over to Yuvinel. She handed over the excited little girl, who shrilled with delight, causing the Elf to wince. Holding the girl awkwardly, he then mounted his horse, and placed the shrieking girl in front of him.

"You seem to be managing well, Elladan!" called Esendri.

Chuckling, the men mounted their own horses, Dwendyn riding with her younger son. Once the mortals were ready, the strange company set off, headed back in the direction of Imladris.

Elrohir came across Legolas where he had expected him to be. Elrohir had heard the better half of the story from his father. While it gladdened him that Legolas had not sought to run away, Elrohir was worried as could glimpsed form of the prince high in the boughs of the tree overlooking Imladris.

Legolas heard the advance of the other, and made a few sudden movements, before going still again, realising that it was Elrohir. He did not respond as the other called softly from under the tree.

The twin recognised the blank and emotionless look on his face for what it was, and climbed up to join him.

"You are predictable, Legolas!" the raven-haired Elf said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

The Elven prince did not attempt to smile in return, although he turned and gave Elrohir a look totally devoid of any emotion, his cool exterior composed and unwavering. Only a rapidly drying track of moisture running down his fair cheeks bore testament to the turmoil he was experiencing.

Elrohir drew closer, noticing that the other neither flinched nor drew away, and his stony mask refused to crack. A strong feeling welled up within him, and the raven-haired Elf could not help but instinctively reach out and stroke the fair cheek of his friend.

"There is no shame in grieving, Legolas," he whispered. A hot rush of anger rose in him as he saw a brief flash of emotion surface in the other's eyes, before it was quickly suppressed. In that briefest instant, he had seen grief, sorry, self-loathing, fear, all mingled within the depths of the Elven prince. Why did he not allow himself to open up to his closest but one friend?

Legolas tore his gaze away, anger rising for allowing the mask to crack. He chided himself harshly and silently, not trusting himself to hold the gaze of his friend any longer. The young prince had seen the concern, worry, love and most of all, pity, on the face of his friend, and it hurt him to see such a look.

He had fled from Elrond, unable to face up to those sad and wise eyes, and the high-Lord had not given chase. Running blindly, Legolas found himself making for the solace of his very own private spot, a tree that grew along the cliff from which one of Imladris' many waterfalls flowed. However, the comfort that was usually quick to come was elusive this time, for a strong and novel sense of fear plagued him. It was a fear of himself, a fear of his powers, a fear of the life-force that he usually found so soothing, its ability to kill as easily as it gave life.

The tears had come after much fighting to hold them back. Once let loose, they could not stop, and instead, overtook his entire being, and he had given in and let the silent sobs wrack through his body, while he wrapped his arms around his knees. He cried as he had not done since he was a child, and it was almost a relief to be able to do so after years of carefully excised self-control, before he heard Elrohir's approach.

"Why do you think it weak to display your emotions?" asked Elrohir softly, dismay in his voice as he saw the other's face grow colder. "Is it so difficult to let go?" Even then, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He had tried, many years ago, to undo the damage done to the young soul, but had been unsuccessful, and there was nothing that suggested that it was going any better.

Legolas thought for a long while. When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow and emotionless, like the blue orbs that continued to stare vacantly into the morning scene.

The words came out in a whisper. "There is nothing to display."

Elrohir would have screamed in frustration if not for the shiver that ran ostensibly through the body of his friend, who quickly buried his face in his knees, unable to hold back his emotions any longer. He stared as Legolas struggled to compose his features, well hidden from those dark grey eyes, so like his father's, that seemed to pierce through his soul. He could only reach out and rub the motionless back of the young Elf.

After a long period of silence, Legolas looked up again, his face flushed with anger, furious at his own betrayal. The tight features softened, however, as he beheld the calm, open face.

"You will not understand. I am my father's son."

The raven-haired Elf clucked sympathetically and gathered the troubled young one into his arms, pressing the side of his head tightly against his own chest, stroking his hair soothingly. He has his father's stubbornness, his mother's sweet, gentle nature, and the mischief and innocence of a Silvan Elf. That was the way Elrohir had heard another describing Legolas to Elrond, and the truth of the words sprang up at him. Perhaps, a combination that was the source of much conflict within the young one.

"Hush, Legolas, we shall have no more of this talk! You are not your father."

"Forgive me, Elrohir. I know not why I am reduced to this state." The embarrassment was plain in his tone as Legolas berated himself.

His friend did not respond, and waited, for he sensed Legolas had more to say.

"I, I killed Obsiran. He was my friend." The words came out, and Legolas felt his being fill with fury and guilt. "I tried to use my magic to save him, yet ended up taking away his life!"

"You did not mean to." Elrohir started to comfort the young Elf.

"I enjoyed it!!" shouted Legolas, an edge of hysteria in his tone. "Do you not understand? Joy filled my very soul as it was happening, and all I wanted was to drink in all of his life, I wanted it all for myself! All I wanted was to devour that euphoria! I wanted more!"

Elrohir tightened his arms around the shaking body, making soft, sympathetic noises. While the revelation was startling, he was glad that his friend had finally spoken of it.

"I am a curse to those I love, capable of only bringing them grief and suffering," muttered Legolas to himself, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Hush, Lass tithen! It is no fault of yours. The magic is powerful and uncontrolled. Even ada does not know much about it. All magic comes with a price. You only have to learn to control it. Time and teaching will help you, and ada has decided that he will personally see to your guidance."

Legolas continued to mutter to himself, distress not leaving his fair features. Seeing his friend thus stripped of all his defences, Elrohir was suddenly reminded of how young the Silvan Elf actually was. The Elf he held in his arms was not even seen two hundred winters.

A while later, Elrohir noted with grim satisfaction that the other's soft mutterings had become slurred, and it was only a matter of time before his eyes had glazed over in troubled sleep. The older Elf did not move, unwilling to rouse the other from his slumber. The sun had risen high above the eaves of the rooftops, and Elrohir felt himself grow drowsy. Perhaps he too should risk a brief foray into the peaceful dreamscape that was beckoning so invitingly.

***

Elrohir awoke with a start and blinked as his surroundings came into focus. A glance about him told him that the better part of the day had gone by, and that Legolas still lay within his embrace. The sleep was doing him good, and the half-Elven noted with satisfaction that his features were almost relaxed.

"Nana, do you like my house? I made it myself, and you are the first to see it! Esendri helped!" Legolas said, sending alarm bells ringing in Elrohir.

He shook the Elf in his grasp, calling his name softly, trying to ease the disruption as much as possible. He watched as the blue irises slowly came into focus, and soon Legolas was struggling bewilderedly, attempting to extricate himself from the other's embrace.

"Roh?" Legolas's voice was confused. A flush rose in his cheeks as previous events came back to him.

The other smiled in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. "I too, fell asleep, Lass, so contagious was your slumber!"

The Silvan Elf frowned at him, and Elrohir knew his nuance was not fooling the other. Legolas had been dreaming of his last moments with his mother, and the Valar only knew where that dream might have taken him.

"What is it?" demanded Legolas, annoyed at his friend for keeping knowledge from him.

A commotion that rose from Imladris saved Elrohir. A broad smile leant itself to the face of the peredhel as he soon realised what was going on.

"Ai! Lord Glorfindel returns!' he cried.

Upon hearing his words, Legolas leapt out of the tree. There was joy in his eyes, and a glint of mischief as he turned and looked at Elrohir.

"Last one to the front gate is a rotten Dwarf!" Legolas cried, before making off, closely followed by a chuckling Elrohir.

Esendri's mouth dropped in wonder. No amount of stories about the beauty of Imladris had ever prepared him for this. The trees seemed to be whispering, sizing up the strange company that sought to pass beneath their boughs. The intensity of the chattering increased as they neared the Last Homely Home, and the Silvan Elf felt his heart thump wildly with anticipation.

The first waterfall burst into view a few moments later, its silvery stream catching the rays of the lazy afternoon sun. Another appeared to its left, and another. Birds whistled overhead, squirrels chattered eagerly. Before long, the first roofs began to appeared, finely carved patterns out of wood that seemed to glow silver under the gentle illumination of Anor.

"Welcome to Imladris," Elladan said from behind the column, pride in his voice as the newcomers gaped at the sight before them.

The horses stopped abruptly at the large silver gates, and the party was greeted by a young sentry, face glowing with happiness at seeing them.

"Ai, Lord Glorfindel! We have been eagerly awaiting your return!" he called out, giving a bow, and ran into the city, abandoning his post. Glorfindel exchanged a raised eyebrow with Elladan, who chuckled and dismounted, a peacefully slumbering Daniya clasped in his grasp. He paced the area up and down as they waited while throwing apprehensive looks at her.

"We have to await Lord Elrond's permission for you to enter Imladris," said Glorfindel to the humans, "It has been long since our races fought in arms, although my lord is constantly working to renew our ties. The perimeters of the city will throw out any intruders, and it is not a pleasant experience, as Elladan here can attest to that."

"My brother and I decided to test this once. We kidnapped a Dwarf, drugged him, and attempted to bring him back in a sack."

"Now really, Master Elladan, you do exaggerate the matter. Mayhap the Dwarf triggered of an averse reaction!" Esendri had leapt off his steed and was peering at city with interest.

Without warning, the Silvan Elf took a large step into the perimeters of Imladris. There he stood, in shock at the easiness of the task. He let out a shout of triumph, which quickly turned into a strangled scream, as an invisible force picked him up and hurled him out of the boundaries, where he landed in a pile of arms and legs.

The rest roared with laughter as he untangled himself, brushing aside the proffered assistance, and spat the leaves out of his mouth. Softly uttered Nandorin curses filled the air, much to the amusement of the Imladrin Elves.

"Mind, Esendri, it seems your exit was equivalent to that of a Dwarf!"

"Ada!" exclaimed Elladan, turning to face his father. He looked apprehensively at the girl in his arms, and deciding against stepping past the gates for the time being.

"Welcome to Imladris, otherwise known as Rivendell. Your journey has been long, and rest is what you need," said Elrond, gesturing for the men to step within. Grooms appeared on either side, and led the horses away.

The Elves quickly greeted their high Lord before dispersing.

"Lord Glorfindel shall show you to your chambers."

The humans smiled and turned to leave. Allanor took Daniya from Elladan, was relieved beyond measure.

"Come, Esendri!" called Elrond, noting that the Silvan Elf hung behind, mistrust upon his face.

Thus addressed by the high Lord, Esendri had no choice but to heed his words. He did not put it past the Imladrin Elves to play another trick on him, and he screwed up his face and squeezed his eyes shut before stepping through, bracing himself.

"Esendri!" He let out a yelp of frustration as he was once again hit by a force and lifted off the ground. Yet, this time, he was not sent flying.

"Legolas?" he cried, unsure if he was hallucinating.

"Ai, 'tis I, Esendri!" Legolas finally let go of him. "I thought you lost! Are you hurt?"

"Nothing but a few bruises sustained from an unpleasant fall," said Elladan with amusement, and Legolas grinned knowingly.

"I see, Dan, that you have taken to caring for mortal children." Elrohir too had arrived.

Esendri snorted with laughter. "You must be Master Elrohir, judging from your somewhat similar appearance to Elladan." he said, before proceeding to introduce the mortals to Legolas and Elrohir.

"Now that Master Esendri has said his piece, mayhap my guests might finally be allowed to rest?" interrupted Elrond.

Esendri coloured, but did not fail to notice his master avoiding Elven-lord's eyes. A strange emotion crossed Legolas's face, before it was carefully hidden. A look at Elrohir revealed that he kept throwing worried glances at Legolas.

Esendri waited for the others to move off, and hung behind. Legolas did not seem to realise that the rest were almost out of sight, and stood there, eyes fixed upon a spot on the ground. The servant caught Elrohir's eye, confirming that there was indeed something bothering Legolas.

Gently, Esendri laid a hand on Legolas, causing him to jump.

"Sen! Where is everybody?"

"Master, we need to talk."

"We should rejoin the others!"

Esendri was not about to give way and Legolas knew that, so decided that there would be no sense pretending any further.

Nodding in defeat, the Sindarin prince gestured that Esendri follow him.

Legolas led his friend back to his private spot, and a jolt of joy ran through his heart as Esendri exclaimed at the beauty of Imladris in the setting summer sun.

Esendri stepped forward, and stroked the bark of the lone beech that grew atop the cliff, small waves of magic emitting from his palms. He blinked in surprise as a great sorrow washed over him, and turned to voice his discovery, only to find Legolas rooted to the spot, smile frozen into place. His face was deathly pale, and there was terror in his eyes. Esendri rushed up to him, frightened by the uncharacteristic show of fear.

"Lass?" he called, touching him, unwittingly sending a spark of magic along as he did. The effect it had on the prince was unexpected. Sharp pain shot through his body, and he gasped as it refused to abate. Instead, it intensified as he fought against it. Esendri cried out in alarm, and caught Legolas as his legs gave way. The blonde Elf collapsed into his arms, darkness taking over him.

Esendri quickly scooped up the light body, and made a beeline for Elrond's dwellings. Bursting through the doors, he called for help, and was greeted by the twins. Upon seeing the pair, Elladan quickly led Esendri into the nearest bedchamber, and Elrohir was sent to fetch his father, knocking over a few startled servants in his haste.

When Elrond entered the room, he found a frantic Esendri being pried away from the bed by Elladan, who was doing his utmost best to calm the Silvan Elf.

All three young ones watched apprehensively as Elrond examined Legolas. The high Lord noted the absence of injuries and the erratic pulse that surged along in leaps and bounds. He already had a brief idea of what ailed the young prince.

"How fares he?" asked Elrohir, who was unable to contain his concern.

"There are no physical injuries. I doubt he is in any immediate danger. What happened, Esendri?"

"I do not know!" exclaimed the Silvan Elf. "I touched him, and he stiffened up before collapsing! It was as if he was in terrible pain! I was examining a tree earlier, before I turned and saw Master Legolas standing there, looking more terrified than I have ever seen him!"

"Might you by any chance also be in possession of the magic?"

Esendri nodded, extracting a knowing look from Elrohir and a confused noise from Elladan.

"You were using your magic on the tree," Elrohir said. "Some of it must have been transferred to Legolas when you touched him."

"But we have always used it on each other without any ill effects!"

"We do not understand it too, Esendri! Legolas is rejecting the magic. It is more powerful than you ever imagine it to be. Promise me neither to use it nor tell any other about it until I tell you. It might be the reason those Orcs and Men are after Legolas. Something tells me more than just the fate of Eryn Galen hangs in the balance. Legolas will tell you more about the events of the past days if he is ready. In the meantime, I shall leave you to look after him."

Esendri could only nod mutely as Elrond left the room. He turned to the twins, only to received identical confused and concerned looks.

"I had no idea," said Esendri after a long, awkward silence.

"Neither had we," Elladan said. A quick glance at Elrohir caused him to change his mind. "At least I am as confused as you are. I cannot speak for my brother, though!"

"Ada is right, Legolas will speak of it when he is ready." Elrohir answered, drawing a disappointed look from his twin. "We will leave you alone, as ada will be in need of help as he prepares for our guests."

Esendri did not respond, and returned to his master's side.

It was not long before Legolas awoke, opening his eyes to find an anxious Esendri staring at him.

"Do not fret, Esendri."

"Legolas, you must rest."

The Sindarin prince struggled to sit up, prompting a ghost of a smile to flit across Esendri's face.

"I see it still impossible to keep you down."

"What happened?"

"I know not for sure, Master. Lord Elrond did not explain much. All he said was that it had to do with the magic. He said you were rejecting it. I do not understand."

"Do not use it, Esendri," he whispered.

"Why, Master?"

"You do not understand!"

"It is because you do not tell me!" Esendri's voice had almost risen to a shout.

Tears leapt to the eyes of the blonde Elf. He blinked them away angrily before starting to speak.

"The magic is dangerous. I killed Obsiran with it!" he choked, repeating the disclosure for the second time that day. Once the words were said, the rest came tumbling out, "He was injured by Orcs, and I tried to cure him, only to kill him. A strange euphoria took over me, and I drank in his life-force. I enjoyed it, Esendri!"

The horror-stricken face of the other did naught to calm his troubled thoughts, and the tears came, fast and hard. Unable to control his emotions any further, he broke into silent sobs, each wrecking his slender frame.

Although shocked by the turn of events, Esendri reached over and held him, murmuring soft, comforting words. A great unease rose in him. Legolas was more distressed than he would ever admit to allow his feelings such free-flow. Esendri had rarely even seen his friend shed tears, much less cry so openly. The revelation about the eagle too was deeply unsettling. Nobody knew more than himself the love Legolas had for the creatures of the forest. Obsiran held a special place in the prince's heart, for he had nursed the injured egret back to health and saw him returned to his nest.

The more Esendri thought about it, the more the fear in him grew. It was a fear of himself well, of what he was capable of, for the magic was the same in them both. If Legolas had used it to take another's life, Esendri was certain that the ability to do so was present in himself too.

Gradually, the sobs eased, but Esendri did not stop his quiet reassurances. It was only when Legolas wiped his tears from his face and stared up at his dearest friend, his blue eyes hooded, did Esendri speak.

"Do not feel bad about this, Legolas. Your grief is befitting for as great a friend and beast Obsiran was. I do not believe what you did was intentional. In the meantime, be on your guard, and remember that Lord Elrond has promised to look more closely into the matter. Despair is not an option!"

Legolas nodded, his face starting to take on the hardened, steely look.

"I wish for a walk alone, Esendri."

A withering glance from the other quickly told him his request was about to be firmly put down.

"Anything but being confined to the bed, good Esendri! The number of hours I have been kept under the sheets this past week has been far too much for me!"

Esendri hid a wry smile. His master's restless nature was surfacing again, which was a clear sign of his recovery. He too, yearned to be with the trees that called so invitingly through the large windows. While strange and foreign, they held the familiar promise of life he both knew and loved.

"You have spent enough time alone, Legolas! I wish to see the gardens of Imladris for myself, for I have heard much about them! A tour of the city is in order!"

He was glad to see a ghost of a smile light up the strained features. Legolas's wonder and love for living things had yet to be beaten out of him, and Esendri doubted if it were ever possible to do so.

"Perhaps Your Highness would like a quick change to appear presentable to all? Eryn Galen's very honour depends on your appearance! His Majesty will throw a fit if he were to see you!"

His words had the intended effect, as Legolas shuddered with disdain at the thought. He scowled at his friend, before leaping out of bed and dashing for the door.

"My father can fuss over the state of his subjects yonder the mountains!"

He was followed by Esendri, and the pair made their way through the splendid corridors of Elrond's abode, Esendri finding the time to marvel at the elegance and skill. Legolas smiled at the other's wonder, remembering his own the first time he had laid eyes on the place.

"How feel you, Legolas?" One of Elrond's sons chanced upon the pair, momentarily confusing Esendri, for they were identical down to the twinkle in their eyes.

"Ai, Roh, it was naught to be worried about."

"It is good to hear."

Esendri saw that Elrohir was still unconvinced by his reassurances.

"Where do you plan on sneaking off to, this late in the night? Mischief and mayhem, I presume?"

"Nay, Elrohir! Esendri has demanded a tour of your lovely city, and I have agreed to play host to him. However, it seems we have found a more suitable guide!"

"Can the beauty of the gardens not wait, Lass, for the council is to be held tomorrow!"

"Even so, there is no excuse to deny a curious eye the spectacle that is your home! Come, Roh, sleep is the last thing we need!"

Elrohir muttered something under his breath about the antics of Silvan Elves, before allowing himself to be dragged along by the two younger ones into the gardens.

Once out into the moonlight, Elrohir's misgivings were pushed to the back of his head as Esendri gasped in delight at the sight that greeted them. The very leaves of the trees, earlier golden from the setting sun, had now taken on a brilliant silver sheen. It was a cloudless night, and a stiff late summer breeze rustled through the leaves, bringing delight to their hearts.

"It is to your liking?" asked the Imladrin Elf, the pride in his voice unmistakeable.

"Ai, Master Elrohir, it is a wondrous sight!"

"Mayhap you might chance a visit to the golden woods of Lorién one day, for they put Imladris to shame!"

"Indeed, Roh, I shall take up your invitation. Yet you know what my father would say if he found out!"

Elrohir's face clouded. "Ai, Legolas, do not worry about that for the time being. We shall think of a way such that he never finds out, or it makes it inevitable for you to pass through!"

The remark drew a curious look from the servant, and Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Elrohir does not think much of my father. He makes his opinion no secret."

"You know full well why," muttered Elrohir darkly, "Ada too, shares my view."

Esendri opened his mouth to enquire further but was cut short by the arrival of another.

"Lady Yuvinel!" Legolas took a step forward. "Is it not late to be roaming the gardens of Imladris, beautiful as they are?"

To their surprise, the mortal girl flashed a weak smile before continuing her way with nary a word. All three exchanged worried glances, for they had picked out the downcast, reddened eyes, as well as the tremble in her lip.

A meaningful glance from Legolas, and he started off after the girl.

"He should keep his own house in order before rushing to tend to the troubles of others!"

"Such is the nature of Legolas!" said Elrohir, mirth in his tone. "Surely you know him far better than I do! Let him be, if it is what he wants. Come, Esendri, we shall continue on our tour, for there is much more to see!"

"Fools! Imbeciles! Swines!"

The commander flinched at every insult hurled at him. His lord had worked himself up into a rightful fit, and was now purple with rage.

"I woe the day I set my eyes on you sorry bunch! Now get out of my sight lest I set my panthers upon you!"

Bowing low, the soldiers left the sitting room, each casting worried glances at each other. The escape of the Elvish prisoner was more serious than they had thought, for they had never before seen their lord in such a temper.

Once his subjects had exited the room, Marnor surveyed the broken shards of glass and crystal laying about. He took a few calm, steadying breathes, before stomping off in disgust into his private chambers.

Sinking down into his luxurious armchair, the Lord of Umstraag brooded silently, anger still pulsing through his veins. The escape and subsequent failure to recapture the Elf was the last straw in a whole series of unfortunate events. To make matters worse, his spies had now reported that his intended betrothed was not in the hands of the Orcs, as was claimed by their leader.

Grinding his teeth in frustration, he cursed his rotten luck. Just the thought of it made him want to smash more bowls and goblets. That he, the Lord of Umstraag be denied anything was simply unthinkable. His army held sway over the West of the Misty Mountains, but even that did not seem to be any use these past two weeks.

A tap on the door caused him to make an instant decision to feed whoever it was to his panthers. His mind changed, however, as he saw who it was, and instead settled for a venomous glare.

"Inath Sirieus seeks an audience."

Despite his black mood, the fear that the name provoked caused the warlord to jump to his feet.

"What does he want?" he barked, only to receive a careless shrug.

Entering the throne room, he was greeted with the terrifying sight of the dark lord seated on his throne, face hidden within his robes, frightening as ever.

"Inath Sirieus." He bowed low before the Dyrian lord. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I am told you have a present for me?"

Marnor straightened. He thought carefully, heart beating wildly before he replied.

"Unfortunately, my men allowed the Elf to escape."

A petrifying silence greeted his revelation, and the cloak rustled - in anger, perhaps? When Sirieus next spoke, his voice was low and measured, dangerously slow. "And how could that have occurred, my good Lord?"

"Two of my men were brought over, possibly by the magic of the Elf, and orchestrated the escape. We attempted to track them down, but all efforts have turned out to be unsuccessful so far."

Inath Sirieus clicked his tongue loudly, annoyance welling up in him. Humans; weak and pathetic. It was a wonder that the Elves had conceded the third Age to be that of Man. Trust them to mess up something as simple as taking a prisoner.

"Very well, that is now inconsequential. As a result of your, ah, how should we put it, sheer incompetence? I believe an alternative plan is in order."

"Yes my lord."

"I shall have to station a few of my Orcs within your army, as you seem incapable of doing even the simplest of tasks. Having Goblins among them might perhaps inspire your army."

"This is not part of the original deal, my lord!" protested the man weakly, knowing that the other would not budge.

"I do not see a better idea, my friend."

Marnor nodded, knowing there was nothing he could do to make the other change his mind.

"I will send them over as soon as time permits it. It is imperative that we sort out this little problem of yours before things slide any further. In the meantime, I require you to prepare a travelling party of your best men. Twenty should suffice. You will set out in ten days."

The abysmal look upon the other's face only deepened further. "But my lord, this was not part of the agreement we made!"

"Neither was the incompetence of your men!" snapped the dark one. "Be thankful I do not crush your pathetic city with one fell stroke for failing to keep your end of our bargain!"

The warlord quickly dropped to the floor and begged his pardon, displaying more fear than he felt, determined to appear weak and spineless.

Sure enough, a low, satisfied bark escaped from within the hood. As far as Marnor knew, the form of the Dyrian Lord was best kept within the confines of his cloak, for it would surely only be revealed to those whose doom had come. He chanced a glance up at his throne, only to find It mercifully empty, for the other had disappeared.

Rising, the tyrant cursed his rotten luck for the thousandth time that day, before sending for his chief minister, mind already working through his next step.

As always, the chief minister appeared promptly, out of breath, with the typical stressed and apprehensive look upon his face. Oregeus had heard much about the tantrums of his Lord earlier in the day, and was now bracing himself for the outburst. Instead, he faced a surprisingly calm and sedate Marnor, who did not bother to look up as he entered, and left him there standing.

The doors opened again, and the one who had sent for the Lord earlier appeared, his expression serene and even nonchalant, contrasting sharply with that of the minister.

"You sent for us, my lord?" the newcomer said, barely even glancing at the older man who stood beside him. The contempt each held for each other was evident from the moment they were placed in the same room.

His voice drew the attention of Marnor, who was previously deep in thought. Seeing his chief minister shrink from his glare caused his feelings to lift.

"It turns out that the Dyrian Lord wishes for his Orcs to be placed in our army," said Marnor, noting the look of terror that crossed the face of the minister.

"But, my lord, Orcs do not have a place among us. It would only serve to frighten the men and lower their morale further. I need hardly add that losing two columns of men in the past week has been good on their moral!"

"Do you think I have a choice?" snapped Marnor. "It might not be ideal, but at least it will prevent any further betrayals! Till now, I can't believe that it was Gallenon, of all people! If only I could get my hands on him and the traitor who assisted him, and they would wish they had never been born!"

The young one frowned at his words. "Are you so sure the brothers had inside help? My investigations seem to show otherwise! Furthermore, it was only an Elf that got away! What could would come out of that deal you had, anyway?"

"Little do you know the workings behind this. The Dyrian have their own mysterious and twisted ways of working. We, however, are not about to sit back and be pushed around! I have a few little tricks of my own up my sleeves! A plan to thwart them must be formulated!"

"But my lord, to do so would be pure suicide, for do you not know - "

"Well spoken, my lord!" cut in the youngster, glaring with disdain at the other. "We should not simply allow them to take over our kingdom!"

"But Master Ifrit! Do you not see what you are up against?"

"It appears you have little faith in my capabilities then, Oregeus!"

Marnor made an impatient noise, causing them to stop. "Enough of this bickering! We shall do as instructed, but with great care. It does not hurt to appear weaker than we really are! Luring them into a false sense of security would be ideal, and we will attack when they least expect it. For now, I would like you to prepare a group of twenty of our best men for a journey following instructions from Inath Sirieus. I will be taking you along, Ifrit, while leaving Umstraag under the command of Beren. Would there be any further questions?"

Oregeus shook his head and bowed out of the room, but not before shooting a venomous look at the boy, who replied with an equally scathing one.

"What more do you want, Ifrit?"

"My investigations have revealed to me that the escape is not what it seems. There is much more to the matter than meets the eye," said the boy, "Which is far more than that bumbling fool Oregeus can tell you!"

"Annoying as he is, I cannot yet think of a better replacement for him."

Ifrit smiled secretively at the remark, before taking leave of the tyrant.

***

"My lord, how was the meeting?" the commander asked, quickly pulling out a chair for his master and gesturing for him to be seated.

Hkaradil grinned at the Orc.

"Do not fear, it went just as I had supposed it would. Marnor is weaker than I thought. It seems to me the Elves have done us a favour, for he believes our soldiers to be responsible for the annihilation of his column of men on the slopes of the mountain. We shall have our party ready. They shall closely shadow the Elven party that would be sent out shortly. If all goes according to plan, we shall sit back and enjoy our fruits that will be ripe for the plucking!"

"What a plan, my lord!" cried the Orc, face full of admiration.

"Yes, Yanark, do I not amaze myself at times? The Elves are so close to stumbling upon the secret now. It is only a matter of time before they leave for the wastelands of the North. It seems that luck if with us, for the Elven prince is the only one able to pluck the treasure from its slumber and unleash a force unlike any seen before! The lands of Middle-Earth will never have seen such might, and he shall be the one who delivers it to us! Yes, my little Elven prince, you shall play your part so well when the time comes!"

The Orc guffawed loudly at his words on cue, his sluggish mind struggling to understand everything.

Seeing Yanark's stupid look gave the dark creature a double dose of satisfaction. He had sensed the surge of magic just the night before, indicating that the time had come. The Elf had finally been given a taste of true power and the magic that awaited him in the north. The dark creature never made any mistakes, and his calculations and predictions were slowly coming true, step by step.

"It is a good day for us, my little Prince, for you have taken the first step in the direction of the true power that lies under your skin. Feed on it, let it overwhelm you, let it devour you! Do not fight, do not resist, for it is your destiny. It has been foretold, and there is nowhere to run now."

After the final cackle had worn down, Hkaradil surveyed his servant, a glint of malice in his eye. "Perhaps you are hungry now? We should go hunting for our next meal. How does a man-child sound?"

A very fleeting sense of hatred and gloating had filled his body, and he felt a sudden urge to lash out at something. Shaking it off as a figment of his tired mind, he quickly caught up with Yuvinel. He knew that the source of her unhappiness was the death of her father, but knew not how to comfort her. Deliberating on the matter, he watched as sobs ran through her body as she sat curled up under a birch. Finally, his heart could no longer take her sorrow, and he stepped into plain view.

"Yuvinel?"

The mortal looked up, startled for a second, before making an attempt to hide her distress by turning her face away from those brilliant blue orbs.

"What ails you, my lady?" His accented words were pleasant to listen to, He took a few steps closer and crouched down beside her.

"Is it your father?"

"He was all I had, Legolas!"

The Elf watched as fresh tears rolled down her face, and she squeezed her eyes tight, trying to shut out the pain. He reached for her hand and held it, waiting for her to calm down.

"I only know too well how you feel, Yuvinel. I lost my mother too, years ago," spoke the prince, surprising even himself. This was the first time ever that he had spoken voluntarily of the loss he had suffered.

Yuvinel looked up, her black eyes full of tears, conveying sympathy and grief.

"I am sorry."

"Do not be."

A long silence passed between the pair, as both examined their own feelings.

"What happened?" the maiden asked.

To her surprise, the Elf froze, as if slapped, before a hardened, expressionless mask replaced the earlier sad smile.

"She was killed by unknown assailants," Legolas finally said in a hollow voice, his face unchanging, conveying a kind of icy and merciless beauty of its own.

Yuvinel, did not buying his front, but decided against pushing him further. From what she could see, the Sindarin prince had yet to come to terms with his loss. Instead, silence followed, Legolas staring at the ground, and Yuvinel at him.

Finally, Legolas jumped, a warm and apologetic smile lighting up his features once again. "My apologies, Lady, for having to burden you with my own past."

"There should not be an apology, Legolas. My father led the life he wanted, and died defending me, ensuring my freedom. It is just that I have not had the time to grief, with the events that have followed."

"Lucky in your grief, you are, then. I shall not intrude on you any further thus."

He rose to leave, only to be restrained by the girl.

"Stay with me, Legolas," she whispered. "I feel so alone."

Unable to take the strain any further, the mortal girl broke into fresh sobs, and hid her face in her knees.

Legolas placed an arm around her, bringing her closer to him. He only knew too well how it felt to be in her position.

"You are anything but."

The sobs did not abate, and so Legolas spoke soothingly, words which eventually gave way to a gentle song.

It was a long while before the tears ceased their flow, and a watery smile crept onto the face of the girl. The Elf had finished his song, and was enjoying the peaceful silence that surrounded the pair. It was a feeling he had not experienced much in the past year. And one he found himself missing acutely.

"The song is beautiful, Legolas, what does it mean?"

"A lament for the departed spirit, one that will reach our loved ones who dwell in the Halls of Mandos until they are released by Námo."

"And my father? Will he be there?"

"Alas, I know not about mortals, but it is my belief that all good spirits will find their way to a place of final peace."

The thought seemed to comfort the maiden.

"What are your plans, for surely you have to find a new home?" asked Legolas casually, trying to change the subject.

"I do not know, Legolas, for it was all I had, etching out a simple existence from the forest. I have no other relatives or friends. Marnor took that away from me, along with my father, and he will pay for it." The Silvan Elf found himself looking up in shock at the hatred that ran through her face.

The prince gaped at the maiden, his face showing his lack of understanding. The anger left the girl's face, and was replaced with a calm exterior. Legolas felt frustration set upon seeing her wooden face, knowing that she was feeling anything but calm and collected. Was that what it felt like, then, for others to look upon himself?

He shook his thoughts away quickly, and pretended not to have noticed anything.

"Do not fear, Yuvinel, I shall speak to ada about it. He will be able to offer you sanctuary within the safe confines of Imladris."

"Why do you address Lord Elrond as your father? Esendri told me you hail from the great Wood."

"Our feelings for each other are that of father and son. I see no wrong in it, although we usually keep it hidden, because of my father."

"Why would that be so?"

"My father will not approve, for he is obstinate, his pride often ruling over his actions."

"Does that not sound familiar, for surely I have seen that somewhere closer before?"

The Elf scowled at her before continuing, "There are ill-feelings between our kingdoms, remnants of an old quarrel between my grandfather and the rest of the Sindarin. There have been cordial exchanges between Eryn Galen, or Greenwood as you might know it, and Imladris, but that is about the extent of contact. The situation was made worse by the death of my grandfather at Dagorlad, when they marched against the Dark Lord, and my father held Gil-galad, in whose army Lord Elrond served, responsible."

Yuvinel nodded, seeing the flicker of regret in the blue eyes.

"It is thus unthinkable that his son form such an alliance with the half-Elven. It is all the more exacerbated by the lack of trust between Immortal and Humankind that has plagued the better half of this age. Coupled with the uneasiness my people feel at Isildur's betrayal, this has led us to largely shun, and even feel contempt for mortals. It is not a thing one would list as our best traits. Thus, you see why we choose to keep our relationship secret. Admittedly it is tiring, having to hide it. Even Esendri has no knowledge of it. Hiding, something suited only for weaklings, something I have been doing much of late."

"The wisest know when to lie low, and hiding does not necessary mean weakness, Legolas."

"Nae, it is not in my nature to keep secrets, much less from people that I care for. It is not a choice that I make willingly, but I see no other way! There is much at stake; our very way of life as we know it is being threatened! If fighting it means giving up a part of myself, I would do so without a doubt. You might not understand, but Eryn Galen is, and always will be my home, and it is my people that I must fight for. It is only that I lack the strength to do so!"

Yuvinel was startled by the outburst. A frown crossed her face before she replied, "Why do you say that, Legolas, when you know it is far from the truth?"

"Little do you know, Yuvinel. There is much weakness in me - "

"And much strength too."

A bitter smile was the only answer.

"What are you afraid of, Legolas?"

A long silence greeted her question.

"Myself."

Taken aback by the answer, the girl continued doggedly nonetheless.

"I believe in you, and so should you. There is such love in you that one who has lost all faith would begin to hope again. It is a precious gift of yours, and guard it well. Never lose sight of who you are, Legolas, for I sense you trying to be someone that you are not. You run from yourself. I shall leave you to sort out your feelings, and I hope you see the truth in my words."

The maiden turned and left, leaving behind a stunned prince.

He had not seen this coming. The startling perceptiveness for as simple a girl as Yuvinel was shocking. Everything she said had hit home. It was uncanny, the way the mortal girl read right into his soul.

Even as he slowly retraced his footsteps back to the dwellings of his adoptive family, images of his father played through his head. Thranduil haunted his every movement, much as the young Elf hated to admit it. He saw that there was no denying that the ruler of Eryn Galen had a pure heart and good intentions, something he had overlooked greatly in the callousness of his youth, where all he saw was a haughty, demanding father.

Which is why he needs me. He cannot stand against the tide alone. I had vowed to be there for him.

Legolas shook his confused head, frustration filling his tired body. He rounded a corner violently, and crashed into two figures who were too occupied in a hushed argument that they too did not realise that Legolas was coming down the corridor. The raven-haired figure lost his balance and fell to the ground, crying out in surprise.

"Do I have to tie you to your bed to confine your wandering about my palace?" Elrond asked in exasperation and embarrassment, but seemed to enjoy his position too much to rise, tired as he was. "Would it really kill you to stay in one place and take the rest you need for once?"

Legolas smirked. "What rest do I need?"

"Might I add that healthy Elves neither roam the corridors of Imladris at four in the morning, unaware of where they step, nor fall unconscious at the drop of a pin." Glorfindel replied, yet he regretted it the moment the words left his lips.

The amusement left the eyes of the Elven prince, and he did not answer, his gaze now stony, fixed upon a spot in the ground.

Elrond shot a withering glance at Glorfindel, before rising from the ground.

He had almost reached the young Elf when the blue eyes suddenly widened, and the lithe body went tense. The colour left his face, and a hand flew up to grasp at his shoulder, crumpling his tunic under the tension. Elrond now saw that his teeth were grinding against each other, and pearls of perspiration were starting to build on his brow.

"Legolas?"

Finally, Legolas opened his mouth to gasp for air, before sinking into the strong arms of the half-Elven, consciousness taking leave of him for the second time that day.

Startled, Elrond called the body as it went limp, and brought him back to his room, where he lay the light form on his bed.

"Elrond, I did not mean - "

Glorfindel was cut short by a grunt from Elrond, who was busy examining the Silvan Elf. The Eldar walked forward, concern written all over his face. He sucked in his breath sharply as Elrond pried away the tunic to reveal an angry glowing ulceration.

"The Orc poison," whispered Glorfindel. He was over at the medicine drawer instantly, pulling out healing salves and soft bandages while Elrond frowned over the freshly opened injury.

The salves were quickly spread over the burning flesh and ulceration, and herbs were pressed and bandaged to the shoulder wound.

"How could it be?" Glorfindel asked as Elrond completed his ministrations.

"I thought him cured."

"The Orc poison is novel and strange. By all accounts it appears to have been purged from his body, yet the wound still burns."

"The Orc attack cannot have been any more than a chance to capture or inflict this poison upon Legolas." Elrond suddenly realised what had been obvious all along.

"What could the Orcs possibly want from him? Surely they do not believe him to be the one referred to in the prophecy?"

"We can only hypothesise, Glorfindel, although it is looking increasingly likely. I spoke with Mithrandir and Lady Galadriel earlier, and they agree. The power involved is large beyond imagination. It is the very reason we shall hold council tomorrow morning."

"Do we have to simply wait and watch over him, powerless to end his pain?" Glorfindel asked glumly.

"I see that you too have fallen under the spell of the young prince!"

"Bear in mind that I am not the one who adopted him. Admittedly, his charm is near impossible to resist."

Elrond let out a sad laugh.

Could he really be the one with the capability to unleash such power as never known before upon Middle-Earth? Could he be the one with the potential to fill the void left by the fall of the dark lord?

"No!" shouted the half-Elven aloud, startling his companion.

"What is it?"

"I will not allow him to be the one spoken of in the prophecy," said Elrond.

"I cannot see it happening! Can you not see his true nature?"

Elrond sighed and sank into the luxurious cushions scattered about his bedchamber. "Yet, I cannot help but worry. The magic he possesses is strong, uncontrolled, as you have seen. It worries me, and we must not overlook it."

"We shall guide him. He will listen to no other than he does to you."

The raven-haired Elf nodded, his face suddenly old and tired.

"The worry he brings to those who care for him," said Elrond hollowly.

"Trust him, Elrond, he is no longer a child, as you once knew him to be. If only he could hear you now. I trust that he would have a lot to say at being fretted over like a baby!"

Still, Glorfindel was careful to keep his worry from showing.

" I trust that rest is in order for you," he said, drawing a protesting look from the raven-haired one. "Or shall I take a leaf out of your son's book and administer some sleeping drugs?"

Elrond's look turned positively venomous.

Glorfindel chortled.

"In the meantime, I trust you will take good care of yourself and our little Princeling!"

A pillow thrown in his direction was his answer.

*****

Sindarin Translations:
Brannon-nîn - my lord

Esendri fidgeted, looking around at the important guests slowly filtering into the great hall. A few case curious glances where thrown in his direction. Elrohir murmured brief explanations into Esendri's ear. Gallenon and Allanor, seated beside their interpreters, were even more so out of their element.

He took in a deep breath as the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood entered. Galadriel nodded kindly at the twins, before both took their seats. Esendri had barely time to recover before Glorfindel entered with a somewhat expressionless Legolas. The Eldar did not glance at nor speak to his charge, and instead sat down near the head of the room, while Legolas joined his friends, flashing a rueful smile for his disappearance and late entry.

"I will explain later," he muttered as he sat down between Esendri and Elrohir, who had moved to make space for him.

The brief murmurings died down as Elrond made his entrance together with the Grey Pilgrim.

Mithrandir took a seat, while Elrond remained standing, his powerful gaze sweeping through the audience. His commanding voice easily taken in by the twenty or so who had gathered before him.

"Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of chaos once more, a thousand years after the fall of the dark lord. This new threat we are facing has been gaining. It is thus that Lady Galadriel has called for a council We might be the only chance left against this darkness."

"Lord Elrond speaks the truth. A shadow has been growing in Eryn Galen; dark forces have awakened from their uneasy slumber. A creature of Morgoth, one of his servants, like Sauron himself, has been unleashed onto our lands. It hails from the long-vanquished land of the Dyrian, a sole survivor."

Hushed whispers spread through the room, and worried murmurs were exchanged. Only the four young Elves and the mortals seemed to be unaware of the effect of the Lady's words. Elrohir exchanged puzzled glances with his brother, while Legolas frowned at his servant. The mortals, on the other hand, just looked increasingly bewildered.

"How is it that one from the Dyrian lands have escaped its destruction, only to surface now?" a tall Elf said in Quenya, an emissary from the Grey Havens.

"We can only postulate, Lord Eilwar. It must have been badly injured and biding its time, through the First and Second Ages, only to sense its opportunity has finally come," Elrond rose and spoke again, his immortal face stern.

"The Dyrian are nothing but trouble. What is the creature planning?" asked Thaingol.

"Perhaps a first-hand account from a Silvan Elf would be apt, since the trouble arose in their great kingdom?" Elrond said. All eyes turned to Legolas and Esendri, who causing them to squirm.

"It has not been unknown to us that a shadow was making its presence felt in the South of my father's kingdom. For more than a year, we tracked it loosely, keeping watch, growing increasingly alarmed at its increase in strength and evil. Yet, we waited and watched. My people were kept in the dark, for my father felt that rumour and panic might fuel a frantic migration to the West Havens. Elves are still crucial to Middle-Earth's survival, and we have a hand to play in her affairs. My father felt it would be in the best interests of the people to keep the shadow a secret until we attempted to glean more information."

"Nice it is to hear how Thranduil thinks of his kin over the sea as cowards, Prince Dethronir," Eilwar said, contempt in his voice.

"The Prince my Lord speaks of is my recently departed brother," the Sindarin prince said courteously, although there was no mistaking the glint in his eye. A rustle ran through the council, and Elrond shot a warning look at the young one. Esendri immediately leaned over and whispered a brief warning in his master's ear, for he could sense the other's temper beginning to rise.

"The Orcs are linked in some way to the dark creature. A month ago, the first Orc attack was launched against Eryn Galen," Legolas said after he had calmed down, his voice too loud. "They mercilessly slaughtered the trees, in an area southwest of our main dwellings. I was out on a mission to gather information when I came across the track of the foul creature, and pursued it for three days and three nights, before it led me to the clearing. It was clearly ready to reveal itself to the world."

"Orcs? They do not have the courage to start such a direct attack on one of the Elven kingdoms!" cried Ceridain of the Landolin Elves.

At his words, Gallenon jumped up, as if stung.

"My lords, let me interrupt your discussion for I believe I have important news!" he said in Westron. His interpreter, seated beside him, looked distressed at his sudden outburst, seeming to feel personally responsible for his wayward charge.

"I hail from the kingdom of Umstraag, and used to serve as a Captain in Marnor's Guard. My brother and I fled his tyranny less than a week ago, deciding to forge a new life for ourselves. While in his army, I had access to numerous spies. We learnt that a dark creature has been subduing the Orc armies to the East of the Misty Mountains, bringing the fearsome commanders under his control, one at a time. Even those on this side of the mountain will not be spared. This creature calls itself Inath Sirieus, and introduced itself as one of the Dyrian."

Allanor nodded, dark eyes ever watchful.

"It is clear the only purpose the Dyrian would have is to cover the lands of Middle-Earth with its hatred and dominance," said Gandalf, speaking for the first time. "The Istari is still unaware of the threat, and it is such that Saruman rides out to seek counsel with the rest of us."

More rumblings spread through the crowd, and distrust was clearly written across the faces of some, but none spoke up, out of respect for the old wizard. Mithrandir was well-liked and trusted among the Elvish people, but the same could not be said for the rest of the Istari, many of which did not accord the Elder Race with the respect they felt they deserved.

"How then, does the Dyrian intend to achieve his end, for surely even he does not have the power to threaten the free peoples?" another Elf asked.

"We believe his plan is to use the power of the jewel of Makleni," Elrond replied. "The gem's origins are shrouded in mystery. Some say it was created by Morgoth himself, while others claim its creator was one of the Valar, an experiment gone horribly awry. What all accounts do not disagree about is the power the gem possesses. It is said to be at least ten times greater than what Sauron yielded at the height of his reign of terror."

The room fell into a tense silence when Elrond stopped speaking. Many had fought in the last great war, and the horrors they had seen was enough to chill their souls forever.

"If this creature succeeds, Middle-Earth will be thrown into far greater peril than before, and our kindred would be powerless to stop it, even if we were to use all the magic we possess. Armies will scarcely make a dent in the armour of the newly arisen Dark Lord. Once activated, the power cannot be destroyed, and it will fuel its wielder for all eternity, leaving nothing in its wake of destruction."

At this point, Galdor of Aman finally spoke, his words echoing the sentiments of all gathered.

"What good is knowing this if we are defenceless against the might of this gem?"

Galadriel was the one who answered this time.

"There is one thread of hope amidst all this gloom. The gem must be activated by a chosen one for its evil to be unleashed, and is vulnerable before that. If a group were to be sent in pursuit of it, there is a chance yet of destroying it before the enemy lays hands upon the gem."

"What is to say the creature has not started in pursuit of the gem?" cried Eilwar. "You believe that the Elves have the power and responsibility to stop it?"

"Reaching it requires an arduous journey fraught with danger that involves the better part of a year. The gem's last known location is in the wastelands of the far North, an area where no known race inhabits. It is said that only one can activate or destroy the gem. Furthermore, the jewel is said to be well-guarded by strong and ancient magic that even the Dyrian would have difficulty overcoming. He has yet to gather a party that is up to the exacting demands of this quest, although we fear in time he will. It is such that we must journey out without further ado."

"You believe we have the responsibility to stop it?" Eilwar asked again.

"If we do not unite, what is to become of Middle-Earth? To whom would we turn to? Dwarves? Just a week ago the Orcs of the Dyrian launched an attack on an Eagle colony on the skirts of Eryn Galen, slaying them all. It took place in the sly of the night, while they rested. They did not spare the young, and few survived!" cried Legolas, "Such hatred knows no end!"

"Words of a child. What would one such as you know? This is not the same as playing in your father's garden!" said Eilwar derisively.

It was Esendri's turn to be restrained as he leapt up, unable to take the insult on his master.

Elrond rose and shot a withering look at the young Elf, which was sufficient for Esendri to hold his tongue.

"This pointless squabbling will not get us anywhere. What remains to be done now is to decide our next course of action. Our people's time may be drawing to an end, but this power must be quelled, one way or another, for this shadow would sweep over the whole world as we know it, not even sparing Aman. It remains for us to decide whether we should risk the lives of a few of our best to seek the gem's destruction, or simply wait it out, taking our chances that the gem never be found or activated."

"Why target the jewel when we can more easily destroy this Dyrian lord?" Eilwar asked, "The idea of a quest to destroy this gem does not comfort my heart in any way. Who is to say we do not fail and instead lead the enemy straight to it? Could we say for certain we will be able to resist the lure of power once we hold it in our hands? It is pure naivety to think it simply an issue of breaking the gem to pieces if we manage to lay hands on it!"

Silence greeted his words.

Gandalf rose amidst the uncertainty, a twinkle in his eye. "Well spoken, Lord Eilwar. What do we gain by a quest that would surely destroy all the company when it is simply a matter of destroying the Dyrian? Nothing. What are we to lose should another far stronger adversary arise and set out to take the gem on the stealth, and we do not realise it till too late? Everything. The existence of the gem was unknown to us ere a few months ago. It is so old that knowledge of it has been lost with the passing of time. Only precious few ancient texts remain of it, and they are often conflicting and incomplete. Who knows if we may be chasing our tails in the dark?

"Yet, we must seize whatever small chance we have."

"This is pure folly!" Eilwar exclaimed. "The wastelands of the North at their most welcoming are twice as hostile as Mordor; our kind will languish there. I do not wish to see my comrades fall in a hopeless quest doomed to fail! We should concentrate instead on eliminating the Dyrian!"

"Come, good Eilwar," Glorfindel said. "This quest is to be undertaken by those fully aware of its dangers, yet willing to give it the chance it deserves. Do not consign its fate so casually, for we may yet be surprised. We must have faith in the ability of our people. I myself am to lead the search for the stone."

As a gesture of respect, Eilwar fell silent and nodded grimly.

"He sure is quarrelsome. One wonders if he was sent to the Havens by weary listeners?" muttered Esendri in Nandorin, drawing an amused chortle from Legolas, as well as Elrohir, who had caught the gist of it. Eilwar immediately threw them scathing looks.

"The time has now come for a decision, and Lord Eilwar's suggestion may yet bear fruit," said Elrond. "We will set out as soon as time permits."

"So it shall be that a company led by Glorfindel will set out from Imladris, the members of which shall be decided at a later date."

He paused, waiting for any objections. Seeing none, he smiled before looking to Galadriel.

"If this is the will of the Elven people, so be it," Galadriel concluded, "Your time and efforts are much appreciated."

So it was that a decision made. Elrond threw a glance at the young ones before departing, while Glorfindel ushered their guests out.

"I guess ada wants a word." Elrohir voiced his father's intention. "Prepare thyselves, for we are quite used to what the implications are from that look upon his face. Come, let us make our way to his chambers."

Legolas and Esendri coloured, knowing what Elrond wished to speak about. They rose and left the room, resigned looks upon their faces.

"What new punishment do you suppose ada will inflict upon you?" Elrohir asked.

"Probably a tie between dangling you out of the window by the ears, and a sound beating!" Elladan said, and Elrohir let out a hoot of laughter.

"What?" Esendri asked in amazement.

"The first one was done to me, after I - nevermind." Legolas coloured again, causing the rest to roar with laughter.

All four were still letting out odd chortles as they reached Elrond's chambers. The twins motioned with wide beams for Legolas to step forward, which only served to make him go weak with another fit of giggles. He leaned against the door, attempting to steady himself.

His support promptly gave way and the prince found himself landing in an awkward pile, staring into the startled eyes of Glorfindel. His companions roared with laughter as he picked himself up, a soft Nandorin curse escaping his lips.

Elrond too was having trouble keeping a straight face as he saw Legolas's look.

"Language, Legolas," he chastised.

The twinkle in his eye set off a fresh batch of laughter, as the young Elves filtered in slowly.

"You wished to see us, ada?" Elladan asked, after they stemmed their mirth.

"Indeed," Elrond replied, motioning for Glorfindel to shut the door. "How found you the council?"

"Eilwar was very tiresome indeed," said Elrohir, and the rest of the young Elves nodded in agreement.

The arched eyebrow caused his younger son to blush and mutter an apology.

"You forget your place, pen tithen," was Elrond's rebuke. "Lord Eilwar is a powerful Elflord. His concerns are valid, and he is worried for Middle-Earth."

"Forgive me, ada, I am to blame for my temper was quick to blow." Legolas spoke up, his words. His face was flushed with shame as he continued, "It was unbecoming of me to behave in such a manner, and I shall apologise the next time I see him."

"We did not call you here to reproach you." Glorfindel waved aside the apology. "Although it is hoped that lessons would be learned from today.

"In the meantime, prepare yourselves for a long and dangerous journey, for you are to come with me in search of the jewel. As you have heard, it will take the better part of a year, and we will have to proceed on foot once past the northerly confines of Eryn Galen, as the horses will not do well in such conditions. I trust you will consent to embark upon such a trip?"

His words caused excited gasps to escape the delighted younglings.

"Ada, why make you this decision? Are you to venture with us too?" Legolas asked.

"Nae, Legolas, I fear I will have to stay behind, for Imladris might need defending. Glorfindel will be your leader. The rest of the party is to be decided soon, and I expect you will set off within the month."

"I do not understand, ada. Why send you four younglings on a quest of such immense importance? Surely there are others more capable and experienced willing to undertake the quest!" Elladan, ever the sensible one, raised his doubts.

Glorfindel took a deep breath before answering, as if he had been anticipating the question.

"Indeed, Elladan, your words speak true. However, we feel your presence is needed, as the humans would be taking up this journey. Your father and I felt it. There are few who can speak the common tongue of the Westron as fluently as you do."

"Mayhap you might be underestimating yourselves?" Elrond suggested. "Age, even experience, often matters not. Never allow yourselves to be convinced otherwise."

All four young ones nodded solemnly.

"Off with you then, for you shall need time to prepare, and bid your farewells."

"Legolas, a word," Glorfindel called after the prince, who hung behind, leaving the other three wildly curious as they departed.

Once they had left, a look of concern replaced the half-Elven's smile as he surveyed the proud young Elf before him.

"Legolas, we found this on you," Glorfindel pressed something into his hands. It was the wooden talisman Caeriel had given him. Thanking Glorfindel profusely, Legolas felt a strange twinge run through his body as he held it.

"How feel you now, Legolas?"

The Silvan Elf coloured. It did not pass unnoticed by the sharp eyes of the Elflords, who exchanged a worried glance.

"I am fine, ada," he replied politely, eyes fixed upon the floor, fingering the talisman, already starting to retreat into himself.

"It is good to hear, although you must give me your word that you inform Glorfindel without any hesitation should there be any anomaly with your shoulder," Elrond said.

As expected, Legolas looked up, fire in his eyes. How he hated to be treated like a child, incapable of fending for himself.

"Ada, I do not think the need would ever arise," he said, polite as ever, although there was a hardness in his tone.

"This has naught to do with you being weak, Legolas!"

When he received no answer, the Elflord pushed on.

"You must know that you are not well - "

He was sharply cut off by a livid glare from the young one.

"Ada, there is naught wrong with me!" he practically shouted.

"Elbereth, Legolas! do you have to fight us all the way?" cried Glorfindel, losing his cool. He fell silent though, as he saw Elrond giving him a quick, warning look.

"Yes, by all appearances the poison has been purged from you, but we are up against strong adversaries. There is no use pretending that it was not you the Orcs and humans were after. As for why, we do not know!" Elrond said.

A shudder ran down the spine of the youth as he considered his. Elrond spoke the truth, yet, how could it be so? What did they want of him?

"I do not understand, ada," he whispered, "What good would come out of this?"

"We know not," Elrond replied. "Which is why you have to promise me to do exactly as you are told."

The Elven prince nodded, and both Elflords heaved silent sighs of relief.

"I do not understand," Legolas muttered, more to himself than to anyone.

"How was it that I killed a friend like Obsiran?" the Silvan Elf whirled around and faced Elrond. "How was it that the magic has the ability to take away a life? How could I have allowed it to use me such?"

Elrond's mind raced furiously.

"I do not want this magic anymore, ada, I must purge myself of it!" he blurted out, starting to shake uncontrollably.

Recognising the young one's symptoms as shock, Elrond crossed the room and enveloped the Silvan Elf in a warm embrace. He could have kicked himself for not realising just how affected the Silvan Elf had been. Some kind of father he was, letting Legolas run off, not seeking him out, leaving the job to Elrohir instead.

"I am sorry, ion-nîn," he whispered, "I wish too it had not happened; but we cannot change the past. Obsiran was a good beast. Caru lond ruth dan le.

"Let it go."

It was a while before the lithe body ceased trembling, but Elrond waited before he spoke again.

"You must understand that giving up the magic is no solution, pen ernil, and it cannot be done even if you seek to do it. What I can do is to teach you to control it. Esendri too tells me he is in possession of the same powers. For that case, I shall see you both in my study after dinner."

Legolas broke gently from his arms, gratitude in his eyes.

"I wish to visit Obsiran one last time, ada."

"Ai, Legolas, I shall take you to his grave," Glorfindel said.

In the meantime, all that remained for Elrond to do was to start off his guidance of the two young Elves, before Glorfindel would take over the task once the company left. Elrond grimaced; he did not envy Glorfindel. It was not going to be an easy task, for the magic was powerful and had been given free reign for many years. Legolas, while generally respectful towards him and quick to learn, had shown himself capable of being impulsive and stubborn. He could tell that Glorfindel would have his work cut out for him. Still, there was no other way.

A tap on the door signalled the return of Glorfindel, who slipped in, a satisfied look upon his face.

"How fares he?"

"The trip seemed to bring him closure, and he took it well. I would not worry myself further," replied the blonde Eldar, crossing the room and pouring two glasses of. "Although I doubt the younglings bought your story of why they shall be part of the company."

" Glorfindel, do you think I have such low faith in my sons?" asked Elrond, "It will have to do for now. I have better things on my hands than explaining myself to young Elves."

"Mayhap training stubborn Elves is one of them?"

"Laugh you might, but you must remember this burden goes to you once the company sets out, for I can assure you there would not be enough time for me to even scratch the basics!"

"Ai, Brannon-nîn, and I am looking forward to the challenge! Something which to pass the dull and lonely nights with, I should think!"

The half-Elf chuckled at his words. A brief, peaceful silence passed between the two, and Elrond closed his eyes, reclining in the seat.

"I trust you should enjoy whatever dullness that remains in Imladris, for it will be a rare commodity once you set out!"

"Dullness? Ai, I am afraid I dare not hope for so much! After all, the potent combination of two young Silvan Elves and the young Lords of Imladris can barely get any better!"

*****

Sindarin Translations:
pen ernil - little one
ion-nîn - my son
Caru lond ruth dan le - Do not harbour anger against yourself.
Brannon-nîn - my lord

"Tis not the case, I can assure you!"

"What makes you so sure?"

Esendri watched on, amused, as the twins continued their argument. They had migrated to the chambers that he shared with his master. The talk had not left the subject of their involvement in the upcoming quest, and all three were equally excited at the prospect.

"Do you really believe we were chosen simply for translation purposes?" Elrohir continued.

"I do not seem to be able to find another answer. Do you have such high faith in your abilities? What makes you think you have something special to offer the company?" his brother countered.

"I have told you that I cannot yet think of an answer!"

"Even so, why would ada hide it from us?"

"Probably because he has his doubts in your ability to keep it quiet! What does Esendri think?" Elrohir ventured.

"Err, I do not see what purposes it will serve for Master Elrond to hide the truth," he started hesitantly.

"What did I tell you? Esendri agrees that ada has no reason to lie!" Elladan cried triumphantly.

"Although there seems to be more to this than meets the eye!" the servant added hastily, upon seeing the annoyed look that crossed Elrohir's features.

He was saved by the arrival of Legolas, who did not look at all surprised to find his room invaded by his friends. The argument was quickly forgotten as all three turned to face the new arrival, faces glowing with anticipation.

"Is one's chambers no longer safe from intrusion even within the confines of your great city?" Legolas asked, taking off his outer robes and throwing them across a chair with disdain.

"I never will quite fathom your people's likes for such cumbersome raiment," he said to the twins.

"Do you ever change, tithen ernil?" teased Elrohir, watching him sink wearily into an armchair. "What did ada want with you?"

"Would you believe me if I told you he wanted a word regarding my impulsive behaviour at the council?"

"Nay, Legolas, you can do better than that!" Elladan pressed further.

"Esendri and I will be given instruction n the usage of our magic."

"And the idea sits well with you then, Master?"

The Sindarin prince thought briefly before answering.

"Knowing that ada has taken a vested interest in this affair eases my reservations, although I am still at a loss of what to think."

"Why do you call him ada?"

Elrohir jumped quickly to the rescue as he saw uneasiness cloud the face of the blonde Elf.

"Do not blame him, Esendri. Ada took Legolas as his foster son the first time he visited Imladris, as we did not know his true parentage then. Even Glorfindel has been kept in the dark about this! As for why this had to be so, I believe you have a better understanding of your king than I do!"

Esendri shrugged, seeming not to think much of it.

"Did Lord Elrond give any indication of what we were to do before setting off?" he asked.

"None, although I think honing our skills for the journey ahead would not be too bad an idea!" Legolas replied, a glint in his eye. He strode over to his drawer and pulled out his bow and newly refilled quiver.

"I am afraid I have to return this to its owner," he remarked, handing a long knife to Esendri. "I no longer have any need for it, since Glorfindel returned mine."

"Shall we?" Esendri turned to face the brothers, excitement in his face.

Elladan frowned, unsure of whether to take up the offer. It had only been a day since Legolas had collapsed, and he was not sure if it was a sensible idea to go hunting so soon.

"Our presence might be required at lunch." He began to mount a half-hearted resistance.

"Come, Dan, surely our absence will not be missed" said Elrohir, mischief in his face. "A spot of Orc-hunting would surely whet our appetites for dinner! In the meantime, there is something we must do!"

Elrohir dragged his twin out of the door, leaving the Silvan Elves behind to their preparations.

***

Seated atop Nardawin as he waited the arrival of the twins, Legolas felt a familiar thrill rush through his body again. it had been too long since he had properly ridden, and simply being back in a position which he knew and loved was enough to beat away all his inner demons. He had not felt so at peace with himself for a long while, and this was exactly what he needed.

The trip to Obsiran's grave had been a turning point. Just being able to face his loss and grieve for once was more beneficial than he had ever expected. All his life, he had run and hid from his losses, burying them with his past until they had all come back to him.

Not anymore. He had made a silent promise to his fallen friend never to let any of this haunt him again.

"I wonder what keeps the twins?"

"It is not like them to tarry!" Legolas agreed.

The said brothers materialised soon, both beaming as they approached.

"Our apologies for keeping his Royal Highness waiting," Elrohir said.

His brother produced an intricately carved bow and quiver with a flourish, handing it over to an awestruck Esendri.

"A welcome present from Imladris. I hear yours was lost to the Orcs."

The gratitude was clear in the eyes of the servant, who took it, marvelling at its workmanship.

"Many thanks, Masters Elladan and Elrohir. I fear nothing I say can express my appreciation for so great a gift!"

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "I recall not receiving something quite so valuable upon my first visit!"

"For all the worry and trouble you caused, I believe a sound beating would have been more apt!" retorted Elrohir, drawing a grin.

"I trust you to put it to good use, my good Esendri, for it has come straight out of ada's private store!" Elladan said.

Legolas looked up sharply, a wicked glint in his eye while Esendri coloured furiously.

"Ai, I cannot take it!" he started, but was firmly silenced by the twins.

"You will keep it, Esendri, lest we make you. Might I warn you that Elrohir and I have discovered a very convenient way of making stubborn Silvan Elves do as they are told!" Elladan said, casting a meaningful glance at the blonde prince, who grimaced.

"Do tell, Master Elladan!"

"I see ada has not managed to find a way to keep you out of his private stores, even after the escapades of the past!" Legolas changed the subject, drawing more laughter.

"This grows ever more interesting, but I fear night will fall ere we get to the hunting ground," Elrohir interrupted, leaping onto his horse.

Elladan laughed and was about to follow suit when his attention was drawn by a rustling in the trees.

"Elladan?" a voice called, and Yuvinel appeared, carrying Daniya in her arms.

The elder twin took a step back, sensing trouble.

"Am I glad to see you! Daniya has been asking for you all day and has refused to eat until she is brought to you!" the girl said.

Elrohir stifled a laugh and dismounted as he saw his twin grow pale, and walked up to the maiden.

"What is her name?"

"Daniya."

"Come, little Daniya, do not pout!" Elrohir called out, a gentle but amused smile on his face.

The little girl looked up, recognising the voice. There was her beloved Elf, yet there was something not quite right. Her initial beam was reduced to a confused frown as she beheld Elrohir, yet she allowed herself to be scooped up by the Elf.

"Are we interrupting something?" Yuvinel asked anxiously, suddenly noticing how all were fully armed and cloaked.

"Nay, Yuvinel, join us, for surely some Orc-hunting would do you some good!" said Legolas, taking the girl from Elrohir, who had offered the distrustful child up to the Silvan prince, who held her in front of him awkwardly, much to the amusement to his servant.

"Would you not like to ride along with us, Daniya?" Legolas asked.

To the surprise of all, the little girl tensed up, horror in her eyes, and started struggling. She gave out a loud, piercing scream. Shocked, Legolas almost dropped the writhing child, who was saved by Elrohir, and taken aside.

"Ugh," Legolas muttered under his breath.

"Your aptitude for younglings extends to mortals! It seems Master Elladan has found a match in his ineptness with children!" Esendri laughed.

In the meantime, Elrohir was having trouble trying to calm Daniya down. If anything, her screams seemed to get louder.

"By the Valar, the whole of Imladris would be roused by her shouts!" Elladan exclaimed.

"She has been such all morning, and has been crying for you!" Yuvinel exclaimed, hurrying over to the pair.

Daniya had now taken to swotting her fists about, beating wilfully at Elrohir.

"You not Dan! You not Dan!" she screamed.

"Maybe I should take her," Yuvinel proffered, moving to take the hysterical child off his hands.

Before she could do so, Elladan volunteered to take the girl, causing her tears and tantrums to stop, and a watery smile broke out.

"Dan!" she screamed happily, unmindful of how awkwardly she was being held. "Elf!"

"Come along then, Yuvinel, for I see no other solution. This hunting trip might as well turn into a picnic!" sighed Elladan in resignation.

"Would you ride with me?" Legolas offered the maiden a hand, and was surprised to see her mount the horse without his help.

"You learn fast!" he remarked, and received a shy smile in return.

The twins mounted their steeds, and Elladan moved off first, the little girl placed securely in front of him.

Presently, the company arrived at a meadow on the edge of the forest.

"I suppose this is as adventurous as it would get today!" Esendri said as he surveyed the peaceful surroundings.

Soon the Silvan Elves had wandered off in search of fruits, and returned to find that their companions had settled down among the buttercups. The horses were grazing, and Daniya was preoccupied with chasing butterflies.

Throwing a fruit at each twin, who were sprawled across the grass, Legolas took up a seat near the maiden and offered her a selection.

"How find you Imladris, Lady Yuvinel?" Elladan asked, propping himself up on an elbow and biting into the soft fruit lazily, deciding to spare Legolas a tease.

"It has a beauty beyond anything I have ever imagined," she replied graciously.

"Ada will offer you sanctuary if you ask," Elrohir said, still lying on his back.

"I will have to think about it."

"She prefers the eastern side of the Misty Mountains! Undoubtedly Greenwood will be her choice!" Esendri said, enjoying the reaction it elicited from Elrohir.

"Hush, Esendri, let not your manners be forgotten," Legolas rebuked lazily, before he too stretched out on the grass. "The best is to call both places your home, as I have done!"

"You must understand, young one, that the glory of Eryn Galen rests upon your shoulders," said Esendri, doing such an uncanny impression of the king that caused all to look around for the nonexistent newcomer, and Legolas to cry foul.

"That was your father, I presume?" Elrohir said, undisguised glee in his voice as he watched Daniya's antics out of the corner of his eye. She had now discovered the joys of dandelions, and was happily demonstrating her newfound toy to Elladan, who looked on, attempting to appear aloof to his friends, but not quite fooling them. A warm smile lit up his face as he accepted a proffered flower, and he spent the next few moments playing along and being taught what to do by the little girl.

"He sounds scary!" Yuvinel said to Legolas.

"Not nearly as frightening as his son in a tantrum! Put them together, and a sight they are to behold indeed!"

Legolas blushed and threw a stone at his servant, who laughingly deflected the blow.

"Do not heed his words, Yuvinel," Legolas said regally, drawing more giggles from the maiden. "Mere commoners all, what do they know?"

Esendri and Elrohir were upon him, and he shouted, trying to beat off their attacks. The girl laughed and moved aside, getting out of harm's way as arms and legs started flailing about.

Having gotten past the initial shock, Legolas aimed a good kick at Esendri's temple, only for his leg to be quickly pinned down quick Elrohir. Laughter and good-natured shouting filled the air as Legolas attempted to break free of the two, elbowing Elrohir in the ribs in the process. This only seemed to spur the raven-haired Elf on, and he renewed the intensity of his attacks, much to the delight of the spectators, who cheered the wrestlers on.

It was not long before the combined efforts of both attackers took their toll. Legolas refused to go down without a fight, and managed to fling Esendri off, causing him to land with a yelp a distance away. Elrohir took the opportunity to flip him around and grab his arms, pinning them firmly to his back. Sitting down hard upon the prince, Elrohir claimed his victory.

Daniya shrieked with excitement, and ran over to Esendri, offering a hand to the cross Elf who was rubbing his forehead. He took her hand, causing her to gurgle in excitement.

"Elf!" she pronounced solemnly, offering a dandelion to the amused Silvan Elf.

In the meantime, Elrohir maintained his grip upon Legolas, enjoying the power he held over his friend.

"It is not too often I get you in such a position, my dear Legolas!" he said. Leaning forward, he blew gently on Legolas's neck, causing him to writhe further.

"Now what should I do with my prized catch?" he whispered into his pointed ear.

Legolas summed up all his strength and threw his friend off, sending him hurtling a good distance away. The disturbance drew the attention of the rest away from the girl attempting to teach Esendri the art of dandelion-blowing, and more laughter filled the air.

Leaping to his feet, Legolas squatted down beside the younger twin, a look of exaggerated concern upon his face.

"You were saying something, Roh?" he asked, eyes innocent and wide, an effect he employed to full use.

What the reply was, they never found out, for a scream shattered the air, and all whipped around to find Daniya missing.

Esendri whipped out his knife and disappeared into the undergrowth. Crying out for Elladan to watch over Yuvinel, Legolas and Elrohir ran after him, weapons ready.

"This way, Roh!" Legolas called, keen eyes already picking up the trail.

Hearing the sounds of a scuffle nearby, Legolas motioned for Elrohir to pick his way carefully. Soundlessly, they slipped ahead of the assailant, rounding on him from the back.

"Come no further!" a gruff voice shouted, causing both Elves to pause, eyes straining, attempting to catch a better glimpse of their adversary through the thick undergrowth.

"Easy now, Master Dwarf, I mean not to harm you!" Esendri's voice came through the bushes, loud and clear. The Dwarf had not detected the presence of the two other Elves. Legolas started moving forward again, motioning for Elrohir to do the same.

"A fool I would be to trust an Elf!" The dwarf saw that he was unable to outrun the Elf and started to panic.

Legolas risked moving closer still, and saw the Dwarf standing in a clearing, holding an ugly blade to Daniya's neck. Esendri stood a good few feet away, hands placed non-combatively in front of him, trying to calm the unnerved creature down. The servant twitched his eyebrow upon noticing Legolas, but did not make any other untoward movements.

"Release the girl, my friend, for what good is it to come from taking her? I would give you my word that you shall pass through the borders of this land unscathed!" Esendri continued, at the same time letting his long knife fall to the ground to show his sincerity.

A long silence passed as the Dwarf struggled to make a decision. Silently, Legolas strung his bow, ready for anything.

Just when it seemed the Dwarf was about to give in, he suddenly changed his mind, taking a few quick steps back.

"Make one more step and her head rolls!" the Dwarf shouted.

Cackling in glee, he took a few more steps back, before suddenly hurling his blade at Esendri, who just managed to dodge it. Making use of the distraction, the Dwarf then turned to flee. A whizzing sound pierced the air, and a sharp pain of his knuckles caused him to release his hold on the girl. Legolas was upon him in a flash, and Elrohir whisked the girl out of harm's way.

Screaming in anger, the Dwarf saw that the source of his pain had been a stone thrown by the blonde Elf. He hurled himself at Legolas, rushing through the bushes, and pinned him against the tree, a powerful hand crushing the slender throat.

"Take him alive!" Legolas wheezed as Esendri came to his aid, brandishing his long knife.

Esendri dutifully sheathed the knife and instead landed a harsh blow upon the Dwarf's cheek, causing him to howl in pain and release his stranglehold on Legolas's throat.

Stars left the Elf's eyes, and the sweet rush of air filled his head. Once he got his bearings, Legolas quickly ploughed into the fray, saving his friend from a powerful punch to his head, and was promptly rewarded by a knee in the stomach for his efforts. He stumbled back and fell, temporarily winded.

Kicking with all his strength at the back of the Dwarf's sturdy legs, Legolas managed to get the stout being to stumble forward. Esendri seized the opportunity to renew his onslaught, finally managing to pin the Dwarf down onto the forest ground. The creature thrashed about wildly, screaming insults, and giving Esendri a good fight.

"Legolas!" the servant cried, as the Dwarf managed to worm free from his grasp, and went crashing through the undergrowth.

In his haste to flee, the Dwarf did not notice the leg stuck out by the prince, and ran straight into it, falling to the ground.

"Oh no you don't!" Legolas shouted, lending a hard blow to the Dwarf's temple with the handle of his long knife, causing the struggling figure to pass out.

He breathed a sigh of relief and turned his attention to Esendri, who was still sprawled on the ground. It seemed that the servant had bore the brunt of the Dwarf's aggression.

"Legolas, we should not tarry!" he said as he stood up, motioning to the unconscious heap. "Do not worry about me!"

Legolas acquiesced, and quickly bound the Dwarf's limbs securely with vine which he procured from the trees around. Picking up the still form, he started back toward the meadow, with Esendri hobbling painfully behind.

"I am quite all right, Elrohir!" Legolas laughed, pushing away the younger twin as they returned to their friends. "What is more important is to get this Dwarf back to Imladris! Ada would be greatly interested in him and his motives; skulking around Imladris is hardly a normal pastime for Dwarves. There may be more of them, we should not linger!"

The twins turned their attentions instead to preparing to leave, clearing the picnic site. Legolas carried the heavy Dwarf to his horse, and together with Esendri, prepared to hoist the motionless form onto it.

A shriek from the direction of their friends revealed Daniya's reluctance to leave, and all roared in barely controlled mirth as they saw a hapless Elladan attempting to scoop the kicking girl into his arms with minimal success.

"Knocking her out like that wretched Dwarf might be an option!" Elladan muttered, causing another shout of laughter to ring through the forest.

The eyes of the Dwarf flew open, and he turned about, sinking his teeth deep into the arm of Esendri.

"Ow!" cried the servant, promptly hitting down at the assailant, but the powerful jaws would not let go.

Legolas aimed a blow at the Dwarf's head, but missed his target as the creature let go and wriggled free of both Elves. He managed to break the vines on his legs, and aimed a powerful kick at the Sindarin prince's ankle, causing him to fall as his leg gave way. The Dwarf then headed Esendri, a powerful blow that caused the servant to double over in pain, before making his dash for freedom.

Eraisdor reared in fright as the ugly creature attempted to mount him, and Legolas and Esendri had to roll out of the way to avoid being crushed by the powerful hooves of the stallion.

The twins bore down upon the Dwarf. Both were soon upon him, raining blows upon his thick hide, attempting to subdue the thrashing creature. Even without the use of his securely fastened hands, the Dwarf managed a few good kicks, rewarding the brothers with many cuts and bruises.

Eventually, Elrohir lost his temper and unsheathed his dagger, drawing blood by slashing the Dwarf's arm.

"Roh!" cried his brother.

The pain seemed to jolt the Dwarf out of his frenzied state, and he calmed down, while Elrohir seized the chance to place the blade of the dagger at the base of his throat, exerting just the right amount of pressure so as not to wound him.

"Try that again, and you will be sorry! Get to your feet!"

The Dwarf moved slowly, but obeyed the command and stood up.

Keeping a firm eye on the angry creature, he motioned for his twin to proceed with whatever the pair had in mind.

Grinning, Elladan suddenly covered the Dwarf's mouth and nose with a piece of cloth that he whipped out from nowhere. The creature struggled, but the Elf held on, and soon the stocky body went limp. Satisfied, Elrohir let the body slump to the ground.

"That should take care of him for a while longer!" he muttered.

Once they had seen to the Dwarf, the twins turned their attention to their friends, only to find Legolas struggling to help Esendri to his feet. Both seemed in pain, and the brothers ran over to help. It took both of them to help a groaning Esendri to his feet, and eventually managed to get him atop his horse.

"Mayhap I should ride with you?" Elladan offered, but was politely declined.

Esendri weakly pointed over to his master, who was sitting on the ground, face pulled into a grimace. He was clasping his ankle, which was twisted. Seeing the two glance over, he quickly hauled himself out with great difficulty. Giving in to the concerned younger twin, he allowed himself to be helped upon Nardawin, his foot dragging along.

"You should get that examined," Elladan remarked absently, and received a small scowl in return.

"Lady Yuvinel." the Elven prince offered a hand to the girl, who accepted, mounting carefully.

"Leave the rest to us, speed you on your way home!" Elladan commanded, and the horses were off.

"I fear we are unrivalled in the art of landing ourselves in trouble!" Legolas said in response to a worried question from Yuvinel.

It was not long before the twins caught up, and all four horses wound their way back to Imladris. Elrohir hung behind with the Dwarf while the rest made their way to the home of the half-Elven, where they were quickly greeted by grooms and servants.

The Silvan Elves were both carried against their will and placed upon beds in the house of healing, but not without a great deal of protesting. Elrond and Glorfindel made their appearance, and almost burst into laughter at the sight of the bedraggled party, for all three Elves were cut and bruised, and looking very sorry.

Elladan quickly crossed to his father and spoke softly, and the two left the room. Healers immediately appeared and started examining the Silvan Elves.

Glorfindel went over to them, noting that their injuries were not serious enough to cause more than a few days of inconvenience. If anything, the young ones seemed embarrassed, and both grinned at him ruefully, for they had already begun to heal in the quick manner of Elves.

"That must have been a record, the speed of which you got yourselves into this!"

The healer examining Legolas was frowning at his ankle in puzzlement.

"An old injury," Legolas said.

"The bone was shattered when he was scarcely nine," Esendri elaborated, "I believe it still haunts him periodically."

Smiling, the Elflord turned to the mortals. The little girl was still clinging to Yuvinel.

"I trust you are not injured, my lady?"

"No, Lord Glorfindel, I am not hurt. Daniya, might need something to soothe her nerves for she has just gone through quite an ordeal."

The blonde Elf nodded, and motioned for the mortals to follow him.

"Elrond will be with you shortly!" he spoke to the young ones, only to receive two pink tongues sticking out at him in unison.

"Come, Lady Yuvinel, I shall escort you back to your chambers."

"Let me clarify this again. Four Elves, one Dwarf, three broken ribs, a broken ankle, countless cuts and bruises?" The newcomer laughed as he entered the room.

"Gwenophor!" Legolas cried, sitting up in his bed.

"Ai, Legolas, I see you have not lost your attraction for mischief!" the dark-haired Elf replied, coming forward and embracing his friend. He looked over to the adjacent bed.

"This, I presume your partner-in-mayhem? I trust he is as good as the twins themselves! To think a mere Dwarf could reduce you to such a stage!"

"We were trying not to harm him!" Esendri was indignant in his defence.

"How fare the twins?" Legolas asked eagerly, gingerly testing his bandaged ankle. He found it not able to take his weight, and scowled in annoyance.

A brief cloud passed over the handsome face.

"Their injuries have been superficial. What worries us is that Elrohir has shut himself in his chambers and has refused to speak to any, not even his brother."

The Elven prince frowned, it was not like Elrohir to behave in such a manner. It was usually the other way around, with Elladan throwing the tantrum and his younger brother doing the playful coaxing.

"I would attempt to go to him, if the Healers would allow me out," Legolas said.

"Do not pin your hopes on that happening!" Elladan entered the room, carrying a tray of food. "From what I understand, you two are the stay here until ada says otherwise. He does not wish for you to be let out into the dark and scary world outside!"

Legolas glowered at his words.

"And I presume you were let free? Might I remind you that the sons of Elrond have as big a part to play in this misdemeanour as us Silvan Elves do."

"Ada has made up his mind; Elbereth knows that he can easily out-stubborn you, my little prince!"

"What then of our lesson?" Legolas demanded.

"Do not fear, neth pen. Ada has agreed to give them to you here shortly after supper."

"Tis glad to know even Lord Elrond fears the wrath of his Highness!" Gwenophor interjected. "Well, I best leave you younglings to brood about today's defeat while I prepare for tonight's banquet!" He ruffled the hair of the blonde Elf in a bid to annoy him further, and was out of the door with one last grin.

"Glorfindel and ada have been in discussion with Mithrandir all day."

"What news then, of the Dwarf?" Legolas asked, managing to drag himself over to Esendri's bed, where he sat down and started eating.

To their surprise, Elladan let out a laugh before proceeding with the explanation.

"Well, as you might have guessed, the Dwarf was not willing to talk. I thus decided to feed him something straight out of Roh's personal stores."

"Echui?" Legolas said, a gleam in his eye.

"Ai!" Elladan said, before explaining to the puzzled servant. "Roh invented a concoction of powerful herbs, one that he very aptly termed, 'awakening', for it was meant to rouse a Dwarf from his stubborn state of denial and follow the path that is the rightful one!"

"That Dwarves obey whatever Elves say?"

"Quite rightly so!"

It was then that Legolas realised the oddity of the situation. Usually it was Elrohir who came up with such ideas, for the younger twin had a stronger streak of mischief within him. Now, everything seemed the wrong way around, as he absently listened to Elladan continue. Elrohir had locked himself in his chambers, and had not come to visit Legolas, which was stranger yet, considering how he was usually the first to fuss over the Elven prince whenever he hurt himself.

"And next the Dwarf revealed that he had been sent to spy upon Imladris." Elladan was saying as the blonde Elf returned back to the present. "He was told to kidnap someone who had been given leave to enter our city. This revelation disturbed ada a great deal, and he started to quiz the creature incessantly. However, by this time, the effect of the herbs had worn off, and the Dwarf was soon back to his cursing, spitting self. I had used up the last drops of Echui, and it would take time to brew more, so ada left it at that."

"Tis an interesting story, Master, Elladan. One wonders why the Dwarf set out to kidnap little Daniya."

"It is strange, but ada did not elaborate. He was most agitated as we left, too worried to even enquire after Elrohir's absence."

"That must mean something," Legolas muttered.

"Well, I believe Lord Elrond would reveal it in good time, if it were important," Esendri said.

"Indeed, Esendri, you speak the truth. The mortals are resting in their chambers, no harm other than the shock dealt to them. For now I must take my leave, as I am required to make an appearance at the banquet tonight."

The Silvan Elves thanked him for his visit, and settled down to quiet chatting as soon as the other left the room.

Making his way down the corridors, Elladan headed purposefully for his twin's chambers, bumping into a frazzled maid along the way.

"Master Elladan, Master Elrohir has refused to acknowledge our requests for him to attend the banquet! Lord Elrond is too busy to attend to this matter personally!"

"Calm down, Nithwair, I shall speak to him, then!"

Once he reached the doors of the room, Elladan banged loudly on them, knowing well that his twin was inside. Upon getting no response, he tried the handle and found it unsurprisingly locked. A second round of banging yielded no results.

Sighing, Elladan whipped out a spare bit of metal from one of his pockets, and had the door open in an instant. Stepping into the room, he found that his twin had not even bothered to react to his break-in, and was lying sprawled on the carpet, staring up out of the window, a look of complete disinterest in his face.

Elrohir had known it was his twin the moment the banging started, but refused to respond. Annoyance rose in him as the lock was picked, but even then he had refused to move. A whole afternoon of brooding had sent him into a deep sulk, and he was not about to be roused from it so easily. He felt disgust and anger at himself, and every time he closed his eyes, the thought of how he had betrayed the trust of his dearest friend tormented him.

"Roh, this will not do!" Elladan strode over to his twin, who managed a spaced-out look in his general direction.

Elladan quickly picked up a jug of water and emptied its contents all over the motionless Elf, who was quickly jerked out of his brooding.

"Dan!" he spluttered.

"About time you get yourself out of this black mood, Elrohir!" the older twin said, pulling a set of formal robes out of his wardrobe and throwing them as his infuriated brother.

"What is the matter, Roh?" he enquired more gently when he saw that Elrohir was very upset.

"I do not wish to speak of it!" the younger one exclaimed.

"And you complain so about how stubborn Legolas is!" teased Elladan.

His words, though light and in jest, had a strong effect on his twin, who leapt up to his feet, eyes flashing dangerously.

"What did you come here to achieve, gwanur?" he asked icily.

Taken aback, Elladan blinked. What had he said wrong?

"Ada requests our presence at tonight's banquet, which is about to start in a matter of minutes," he said.

The words seemed to cause Elrohir to calm down, and he let out a long sigh.

"I do not suppose there is anyway out of it?" he asked hopefully.

"As always, Roh, you know what ada would say!" Elladan gave a small grin, knowing how much his brother detested such functions.

The younger twin gave a resigned nod, indicating that he would be present. While he thought such formal events a waste of time and effort, Elrohir always felt that he was obliged, as the son of the high-Lord, to attend and suffer, and faithfully attended every one of them.

Elladan's smile widened, as he saw that his brother had acquiesced to the request.

"I too, shall require a change of garments. You might want to dry out your hair as best you can!" he said, receiving another glare in return.

*****
Sindarin Translations:
Gwanur - brother

"Your Majesty!" one of the Home Guard came tearing into the private study of the king, out of breath and frantic.

"What is it?" Thranduil rose hurriedly.

"The eagle colony came under attack a week ago. Our scouts chanced upon their ruined nests two days ago!"

The king reeled back in shock, but quickly gathered himself. Now was not the time to panic; this was serious news, and he needed his wits about him.

"Send for Felnor and Thinale, I shall see the scouts in the throne room."

The Guard acknowledged his request and left.

Thranduil headed for the throne room, heart heavy as he awaited the arrival of his subjects.

Felnor appeared within a couple of minutes, as ready as ever, while the scouts followed not long after. It was a while before the Chief Advisor appeared, apologising for his tardiness.

The apology was swept aside, and Thranduil motioned for the scouts to start speaking.

"Your Majesty, it appears that the entire colony of eagles have been wiped out by a large party of Orcs and unknown creatures. It seems that none were spared by the vicious onslaught.

"By all indications, it happened in the dark of the night, and they were taken unaware. Even the young ones were not spared."

Felnor and Thinale appeared just as shocked as Thranduil felt when he had first heard the news. Both looked at their king, who seemed at a loss for words.

"Did you manage to discover from whence they came?" Thranduil finally recovered himself.

"We followed the trail, which turned North and disappeared. It was then that we decided to return with the news, rather than to track it alone We believe that a large colony of Orcs make the desolate place their base now, judging from the rumours that abound."

Their king did not answer, and a heavy and awkward silence fell in the room.

It was then that Thranduil acutely felt the absence of his elder son again. Dethronir would have been able to help him. He stopped himself from going down that path. No amount of grief could bring his wife and son back, and it would do no good to waste his time feeling miserable about his losses. His people needed him more than ever now, and he was not about to let them down because of his personal weakness.

He indicated the scouts leave after muttering a few words of appreciation for their efforts.

"Your Majesty," Felnor said, seeing the pain and anguish in those green and stately eyes.

"There is naught we can do for the good beasts but to conduct rites befit of their noble souls," Thranduil answered. Yet, was that not a look of weariness in his proud eyes? Felnor quickly dismissed it, although he was growing increasingly worried for his king and friend by the day.

"In the meantime, the situation is dire," Thinale interposed, "First the trees, now the eagles, what next? Our People? The Orcs grow bolder with each day. Something has to be done!"

The king sighed again before replying. "What would you have me do, Thinale? Send in an army to annihilate them? You know we do not have the capability to both attack and defend Eryn Galen at the same time!"

The Chief Counsellor fell silent at his words, although he cast a knowing look at Felnor, who nodded discretely. Taking a deep breath, the captain started speaking.

"My lord, our resources are stretched thin, and our people would not be able to withstand an attack without sustaining much loss of life. Many of them are fanned out about Eryn Galen, which increases our vulnerability, and it would take much effort to bring them in. Even so, what are we to do after we have our people gathered around us? As it stands, we will be able to hold against a full-scale attack should the need arise. We cannot say for sure a fresh wave would not come on the heels of the first, charging down our newly exposed vulnerability."

Thranduil looked up at his words. He did not like the look upon the faces of his two most trusted advisors. Both were too calm and steely, and something told him they had discussed whatever was coming up most thoroughly prior to this.

Seeing how Thranduil had caught on, Felnor hesitated, unwilling to take the plunge just yet.

"Do carry on, dear Felnor."

"Mayhap it be time to send out word. It will not be too late to ask for help. Imladris and Lothlórien - "

Thranduil leapt to his feet, anger in his face.

"You know very well how I stand on this matter; it is entirely out of the question! The affairs of Eryn Galen does not concern them! If need be, we shall perish in our defence of our own home. If Eryn Galen would be smitten, every last one of our people would die fighting! Only cowards rely upon on when the time to fight comes," he cried.

"Your Majesty, this is not time to revive old feuds! This madness will not stop at Eryn Galen; our people's sacrifice would be in vain, and the shadow spread to the neighbouring lands, destroying all in its way. This must be stopped in its infancy, before the serpent has time to grow its poisonous fangs! Can you not recall the Last Alliance and the horrors of the battle? Would you have it come to that again?" Thinale said.

Thus addressed so harshly, Thranduil seemed to calm down, and sank back onto his throne. A million thoughts ran through his head, the horrendous images, the stench of death, the despair. His return to his homeland, his father and king slain, two-thirds of his army wiped out. The desolate days that followed, how Tuilinniel had worked for centuries just to restore the light to his eyes, which finally culminated in the birth of their second child. The shocking departure of his wife, followed by his older son.

"Your Majesty, forget the past. It cannot be changed," Felnor advised gently.

A bitter smile crossed the face of the monarch, which was followed by a hollow laugh.

"What choice do I have? I sent my son to Imladris, is that not proof enough of my desperation?"

"Leave me alone," he commanded, as he felt his heart grow heavy with the thought.

"My lord, you do not seem too well," the captain said.

"Have a search party sent back to the eagle colony, for I want all clues of the Orcs to be uncovered: their numbers, weapons, origins. We must ascertain if they were the same that attacked the trees," Thranduil ordered. "Should the Prince send any message, I am to be informed straightaway!

"In the meantime, prepare the caves."

His footsteps on the way back to his private sitting room through the connecting door sounded haunted and vacant to his own ears. How had he let things come to the way they were? He had been ecstatic at the birth of his younger son. Yet, the distance between them had grown with his involvement in affairs of the state, and as the small one had shown himself to be increasingly deviant from his father's stately nature. Always quick to wreck havoc, the younger boy's temperament did not go down well with his dignified father and older brother, and both had given up hope of ever managing to reign his wild nature in.

Yet, deep down, Thranduil knew that there was a heart that really cared. The paradoxical feelings for his son were strong. He felt disappointment at his lack of propriety and seriousness, but at the same time, pride at the skills and talents displayed for such a young one. But, had he not proven himself capable of settling down this past year? Thranduil was gratefully for the boy's efforts to cast aside their differences, but at the same time, knew that it was a fool's hope that their relationship would ever be completely salvaged.

Legolas, you are all that I have left. The reality of the situation finally hit home after twelve months of hiding from it.

The words of his advisors came to mind. How they had pleaded with him to send for help. Much as he hated to admit it, Eryn Galen was standing on the brink of almost certain destruction, and he would not be the one to lead them to their doom. For long had the Great Wood been a place of sanctuary and solitude for his people, and he would see to it that it stayed that way.

Walking over to his desk, Thranduil absently pulled out a quill and parchment, with the intention of informing Elrond of the latest happenings in his kingdom. Starting to write, the words stuck, and instead he ended up blotting the parchment. Grinding his teeth in annoyance, he threw the maimed paper aside and looked about for a fresh sheet, but it proved elusive.

Just as he was about to summon a servant to bring fresh supplies, something tucked between two seldom used books caught his eye, and he pulled it out from the bottom of his drawer carefully. Gently wiping away almost two centuries of dust, he sucked in his breath sharply as he saw what it was. A portrait of a smiling king and queen at one of the many merry banquets he frequently held under the stars, was sketched in a child's hand. To the right of the queen sat a little Elf, who was grinning with delight. The colours were bright, even garish for an Elven hand. Two arrows pointed to the king and queen. 'Adar' and 'Nana' were written awkwardly in Sindarin, as if the writer were still unfamiliar with the alphabet.

Beholding the forgotten picture, tears threatened to leap to the monarch's eyes, as the memory of an excited seven year old presenting the picture to him to mark the Midsummer celebrations was brought back to the forefront of his mind. He ran a trembling finger across the picture, absently tracing the outlines of the happy figures drawn in such a simple, innocent strokes, the outlines rough and less than picturesque.

His eyes drifted from the paper onto a portrait that hung over his fireplace, one that he had refused to remove in spite of the pain it caused him each time he cast eyes upon it. The Silvan king and queen sat in their formal robes, regal and graceful, the pride of Eryn Galen. Tuilinniel was smiling, her golden hair caught by the sunlight, and there was a kindness in her eyes. Thranduil, on the other hand, had a certain sternness in his posture that was befitting of the monarch. To his right stood an equally proud Prince Dethronir, his face, so like his father, handsome and stately. He too was dressed in his royal garments, and held his great sword in one hand, for his skill with the weapon had been legendary among the Wood Elves. The queen was flanked by a toothily grinning little boy, barely four feet tall, small for his age, a complete picture of irreverence. Dressed in formal garments, he held a bow in one hand, while the other was resting on his mother's knee, and had a quiver strapped to his back.

Thranduil smiled fondly as he recalled the hours spent trying to coax the twelve year old into his royal prince's raiment, and the fuss the young one had kicked up while made to pose for the painting. Finally, it had been his brother's threat of invoking his archery practises for a whole month that made him stop his endless fidgeting and complaints.

Looking at the smiling family, how was one to know that the beautiful lady was to be ripped from her husband and sons in such a cruel manner a few years after? Who was to know that the small boy would be forced to grow up without the presence of a mother's touch? How would one be able to understand that the Crown Prince was to be taken away from his people somewhere further down the road, leaving his father and little brother to fend for themselves?

Clenching his fists, Thranduil willed the tears away. He had to fight against the darkness. It was only then, when the darkness was banished from the surface of the earth forever, could they be sure that more families would not be torn apart, splintered, ravished by evil. He had to lead his people out through the end of the tunnel.

But how am I to do so if I cannot see the light at the end? Where am I to lead my people to?

For once, the answers did not come to him as they usually did. All his life, he had been so sure of what he wanted, making the decisions without a second thought. Even with the death of his wife, Thranduil had known what he had to do. The same could not be said for now.

Tenderly, he replaced the precious drawing back into his drawer, making sure that it was well-protected. Casting a last longing glance at the painting, Thranduil rose and left the room, making up his mind as for what his next cause of action was to be.

"Roh!" Elladan cried, running up to his brother, who was curled up in the thick boughs of a tree, deep in thought. Seeing his twin in such a flustered state, Elrohir descended, fixing Elladan with a controlled expression, wishing for once that he had the same ability to control his features as Legolas did.

"Legolas!" gasped the older one, completely out of breath, noting the hot rush of anger that swept through his brother, who looked quickly away.

"What is it?" the words came out in a half-snarl. A wave rushed over Elrohir, which he fought hard to suppress, and he walked away with quick, angry steps.

His brother ran after him, catching him by the elbow, spinning him around.

"Roh, Legolas was found unconscious and injured, barely alive, by a patrol this afternoon! We do not know what happened, but his condition is serious enough that ada sent me to seek you out!" Elladan said.

Elrohir's eyes dilated in horror and fear, and all attempts to control himself fled with the wind. A not-unfamiliar wave of sickening dread filled his stomach. Must you always get yourself into mortal peril?

"Dan, what happened?" he asked, starting to walk back towards the palace at a comfortable pace.

In response, Elladan started into a slow jog. "We do not know."

Elrohir frowned, and thought a while before asking, "Would you mind if I went ahead? Ada will need my help!"

A nod from his brother, and he was off, although he could have almost sworn that he saw a triumphant flicker across Elladan's face. Brushing it aside, Elrohir sprinted through the woodlands, a sickening dread spreading; a fear of being too late.

Please, let Legolas pull through this again. I am willing to sacrifice my soul in return for his.

It seemed like an age ere Elrohir burst into Legolas's room, an almost-feral look of fear upon his face. His heart skipped a beat as he looked across and started for the bed with wide steps, and was caught off-guard when Gwenophor stopped him.

"Elrohir," Gwenophhor said, holding back the increasingly startled younger son of the half-Elven. "Perhaps you should sit down first!"

Panic rose in Elrohir, who started struggling against his strong grip. "I want to see him, now!"

Esendri rose from his spot beside the bed, his face pale, and shot a look at Gwenophor, before stepping out of the room.

Gwenophor reluctantly let go of Elrohir, who stood there, in a daze, unsure of what to do. Gwenophor squeezed his friend's shoulder, before leaving him alone with the Elven prince.

It was a while before Elrohir mustered up enough courage to approach the bed where his friend lay, mentally bracing himself for what he might see. Reaching for the bed, he drew in a deep breath and knelt down beside the bed, taking in the tightly shut eyes and the visible injuries. A million thoughts ran through his head, and he choked back a sob.

"Legolas," he said, reaching out and carefully taking his dear friend's cold hand. "I apologise for treating you such. I should never have avoided you. I know not what came over me. Please, do not leave us, I cannot do without you."

Clasping the slender hand tightly in both his own, he buried his face in it, and a single tear slid down his cheek. One so beautiful and innocent should not be made to suffer like this.

A hand reached over and gently stroked his hair.

"I do not blame you, Elrohir," a voice dear to his heart said.

The younger twin looked up in shock to see a warmly smiling Legolas, who brushed a hand across his face, revealing his injuries to be merely cleverly applied disguise. Realisation dawned upon Elrohir of what had just occurred, and he was filled with an irrepressible rage. Shoving Legolas away, he jumped back.

"How could you?" he demanded, quivering with rage at having his emotions toyed with. He had genuinely thought Legolas in mortal danger. In a few quick steps, he was out of the room, not even turning back for a final look, although the image of the bewildered and hurt fair face never left his mind.

"Elrohir!" Legolas leapt out of bed, attempting to give chase, only to be greeted with the slam of the door. Flinging it open, he was met by equally shocked looks upon the faces of Esendri and Gwenophor.

"Which way did he go?" Legolas demanded.

"Legolas, what happened? In the state Elrohir is in, I would wait before seeking him out!" he added, pointing at a spectacular bruise forming on the jaw of Gwenophor.

The prince gave up, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat. "I do not understand! It was wrong for us to deceive him, but the reaction it set off is quite beyond me!" he said, deep in thought.

"How did it go?" Elladan said as he approached. The twinkle in his eye died as he saw the glum expressions upon the faces of the rest.

"Roh is quite beside himself in anger, I suggest we leave him to calm down before we even approach him!" Gwenophor said, still rubbing his jaw.

"He did that to you?"

Incredulity filled the older twin. Elrohir never hurt anybody, accidentally or not!

"At least we know he is angry with me now!" he said morosely. "This has gotten ridiculous. I will speak to ada and seek his advice before confronting Elrohir, for it is now clear that the problem lies with me. I do not know what wrong I did, but this cannot carry on any further!"

***

Elrohir ran out mindlessly, the anger driving him to run without thinking. The sense of hurt, betrayal, and anger, and the admission that he had made was too much for him.

How could he? The thought ran over and over again in his head, as he fled, seeking comfort in his solitude, before eventually slowing his pace.

Fool. What is this betrayal you speak of? As his emotions calmed, the rage dissipated, only to be replaced by a burning guilt. You were the one who betrayed him first. You betrayed the trust he placed in you. Weak, that is what you are. You swore an oath never to let this happen. But look what did.

An impatient knock on the door caused the Lord of Imladris to look up instinctively, recognising the particular urgency of the tapping.

"Come in!" he called, almost apologetically, hoping it had better be worth this interruption.

Legolas had his hand on the handle even before his foster father had called out, and would have barged into the room whether or not he had been given the cue to do so, for he had worked himself up by now into a proper state of anxiety. Flinging open the door, he walked resolutely into the room. "Ada, something must be done! We played a trick on Elrohir, and he is now completely beset himself with anger, and refuses to speak to us! And this is on top of his behaviour this past week, this cannot go on - "

The sentence was cut off abruptly by a look from the half-Elven, and the prince of Eryn Galen followed his eyes to the window, and realised that they were not alone. Blushing, he lowered his eyes to the ground and waited, not knowing what to do.

Elrond's guest, who happened to be gazing out of the window, had gone oddly stiff upon the entry of the Silvan Elf. Legolas had not caught a proper glimpse of the visitor, and now instead just stood staring at his feet uncomfortably. He snuck a look at Elrond, whose face remained expressionless and impartial.

The Elf at the window turned around, finally speaking.

"Legolas," he called softly, his voice causing the young prince to stumble back, looking up, shock written all over his fair face. Legolas almost panicked, upon seeing the calm face before him, but quickly tried to compose himself, knowing that it was the only thing he could do. At the same time, he already knew how inadequate his reaction had been, and could have screamed at his stupidity.

"Father." A thousand emotions rushed through the mind of the Elven prince, and he fought to keep his face expressionless and respectful, exactly the way he had been taught to do.

Not to his surprise, Thranduil merely nodded at him, neither showing anger nor joy at seeing his son again.

"What business brings you to Imladris, Father?" Legolas finally managed to ask, cursing the wobbly tone in his voice, and hiding his quivering hands behind his back, dread starting to fill him as he realised the situation he was now in. His father was proud to the extreme, even a young Elf like Legolas knew that he blamed Imladris for the death of Oropher, and now, here stood his only child, addressing the high-Lord as he would his father.

"Legolas, the situation in Eryn Galen is pressing. New developments have sprung up, and it is imperative you leave ere the end of the week. I will announce this at the feast tonight in honour of the King's visit," Elrond interrupted, finally stepping in, seeing clearly how affected both father and son were at the reunion, even though both fought hard to mask their emotions. If ever were there a pair of stubborn Elves!

The young Elf bowed low, before striding over and kneeling before his father. Taking the other's hands in his own, he kissed them formally, before speaking. "My heart warms to see you again, father. I shall seek an audience with you in your chambers, at a time convenient to you, mayhap after you have rested, for your journey has been long."

The words caused Elrond's impartial face to melt into a disbelieving gape, and he quickly followed the lithe figure out of the room, nodding apologetically at Thranduil. So this was the extent to which Thranduil kept his son away from him! Legolas had been so measured, so seemingly in control of his emotions, to an extent that Elrond had not thought possible. This threw everything he knew, or thought he knew about the boy into a completely different light.

Calling out at the quickly retreating figure, he caught up with his foster son.

"Ada?" Legolas tried a neutral smile.

"That does not fool me, neth-pen," he chastised, drawing a more genuine half-grimace from the other.

"Worry not about your father, for I shall make him see sense!" Elrond spoke, half-jokingly.

An appreciative smile lit the face of the Silvan Elf, although it settled into a worried frown.

"What did you wish to speak to me about regarding Elrohir?" Elrond asked gently.

"Do not worry yourself over such trivial matters, ada! My father awaits your return, and surely that is a more pressing issue! It is but a small problem that I can handle."

"Very well then." Elrond leaned over and gave a quick reassuring hug to the young Elf before returning to his study.

For the first time ever, an immense wave of gratefulness welled up in Thranduil for his contemporary as he watched the half-Elven lord re-enter the study. It was suddenly now clear to him that it was Elrond who had been responsible for Legolas maintaining his last vestiges of his true self, a fact the king knew all along, but had simply refused to accept.

"Thank you for looking after my son," he whispered, fighting back the tears.

That was the last thing Elrond had expected to hear, for he had been convinced that Thranduil was filled with rage upon finding out about their relationship.

Seeing the surprised look flicker across the face of the Elflord, Thranduil smiled wistfully and spoke again, "You express surprise at my reaction, do you not?"

Seeing no point in denying anything, Elrond simply nodded.

"I have erred much, and cannot see how I can ever redeem myself," Thranduil continued, not realising that he was sharing his deepest, darkest thoughts to one who was almost a complete stranger. "I know fair well that Legolas does not see me as his father, for I owe him much."

The half-Elf stood by helplessly, thinking hard before he eventually spoke. "He loves you. I have no doubts about that."

A hard, ironic smile replaced the sad features of the king.

"Legolas loves everyone, and that precisely is his problem. It does not say a lot about how he feels for this father of his."

"He will always look upon you as his father."

"You know this?" Thranduil allowed a notion of hope to creep into his voice. It had been such a long time since he had allowed himself to hope.

Elrond nodded firmly, still stunned by the emotional outflow. So, this was the real Thranduil. Sympathy for the king rose in his compassionate heart. While it was true that he too had lost his wife, at least Elrond could claim to have his three, maybe four, children to make up for it, as well as Glorfindel. Thranduil, however, only had Legolas left, his estranged son. Perhaps it was time for the high-Lord of Imladris to finally interfere in the matters of the Royal House of Eryn Galen.

"Talk to him. he does not want it to have to be this way," he encouraged.

Unsurprisingly, Thranduil shook his head obstinately, "I feel unfit to do so, for it is I that am the sole cause of this unhappy state of affairs."

"It was not of your doing."

A strained silence now passed between the two Lords.

"He addresses you as would a son. Pray tell me what passed in that year for which he was lost to us," Thranduil finally sought the truth.

"Legolas was found by Elrohir as he led a patrol around the perimeters of Eryn Galen. He was badly injured from the crossing, and it took the better part of a year for him to recover," he spoke carefully, conveniently leaving out the details of how Legolas had refused attempts to save him and how he had run away countless times. "We did not know of his background then, and he was too concerned with wanting to leave to tell us anything, and so I took him in as my foster son. It was only months later when we found out his real name and heritage." Having spoken, Elrond looked strangely at Thranduil, who was digesting this information with difficulty. He wondered why the Elven King had taken more than a century to ask this question, for he had not even responded when Legolas had finally been returned to his home. Was his pride really that important to him?

"You wonder why I waited so long. You wonder why I push him away," Thranduil stated plainly. He did not wait for a response, and continued speaking, "Eryn Galen needs a ruler, my people cannot do without a king."

The raven-haired Elf frowned. It simply did not make any sense. Legolas had an older brother till he too passed from Middle-Earth, surely Dethronir would have been king, not Legolas! What did this have to do with Thranduil's isolation of his son at any rate?

"Surely you do not mean - " Sudden realisation dawned upon Elrond, alarm bells starting to go off.

A nod from the monarch confirmed his thoughts.

"When Tuilinniel was lost to us, I was determined to pass into the West and spend the rest of my days within the Havens. At that time I doubted Legolas would have been able to survive the departure of both his parents. He was but a child! To lose both of us would have meant him losing his immortal light. He was so full of life, so innocent, and I could not bear to leave him to languish on his own!"

"And so you distanced yourself from him to make your eventual parting easier!" Elrond was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "For whose sake did you do so? Your own? Did you not realise that by doing so you drove a child of less than twenty to the brink? That he was hurt badly and crying like the child that he was when he was found and would have given up all claims on life had it not been for his burning desire to be reunited with his mother, whom he believed to have passed into the West? Elbereth, Thranduil, what have you done?"

He regretted his outburst immediately after the words came out, and cursed himself mentally as Thranduil let out an anguished sob. Standing there, Elrond surveyed the miserable Elf before him, all traces of anger vanished. Reaching forward, he squeezed the shoulder of the other. "It is not too late to make amends," he counselled.

"What good can I do now?" Thranduil remarked bleakly.

"Banish all thoughts of leaving. Middle-Earth needs you, your people need you, but most of all, Legolas needs you. I do not wish to alarm you, but he is not well. He was poisoned by Orcs a few weeks ago, and despite our efforts, traces of it still remain."

A sickening feeling of dread filled the king, for it sounded too familiar. He stumbled backwards, supporting himself heavily on a chair now. The thought of losing his remaining son was just too much to bear.

"We will not allow him to be lost, I promise you," Elrond stated resolutely. "I believe you are aware that we face an ancient evil more powerful than the dark lord himself, and must be able to fight it with all that we have. We cannot afford to lose Eryn Galen in the struggle, and it seems that you are the hardest hit. You must fight, and Legolas will be by your side through all this."

"I do not see how Legolas can ever forgive me for what I have done to him."

"He has never held it against you."

There was no response as the other pondered over his words.

"Rest is what you need, for it has been a trying journey. Speak to Legolas tomorrow, for it can wait until then," was the advice given.

Thranduil nodded heavily, though yet unsure of his next move.

"Tomorrow, we shall talk further," repeated Elrond firmly, and personally escorted the exhausted king back to his chambers, turning a deaf ear to all protests.

"Elrohir!" Although the first impulse of the younger twin was to run upon hearing the voice, something about it told him to stay, in spite of his agitated state.

"Please, do not flee from me!" said the newcomer. The blonde Elf came into full view beneath the boughs of the trees. Elrohir frowned at his appearance, for he seemed to be trembling all over. Still, the Elf hidden within the trees did not move, instead watching warily, waiting for the next move, debating on whether to leave, the earlier betrayal still stinging him.

"It was my fault, Roh! I should never have agreed with Dan to do that with you! Please, I am so sorry! It was a terrible thing to do!"

Seeing how the other was starting to edge away from him in the tree, Legolas took a deep breath. "My father. He is here in Imladris."

Elrohir was startled and concerned enough by the news to drop to the forest floor. He reached forward and touched the elbow of the Silvan Elf. The response he got was heart-rendering, as the prince gave a watery half-smile of gratitude.

"How comes he to be here?" Elrohir asked, trying to gauge just how upset the other was. An irrational anger against Thranduil rose in him. "Have you seen him?"

"Ai, Roh, I walked into him and ada in the study." The tremble Legolas had been fighting to suppress broke free, much to his annoyance. What a spineless creature Elrohir must perceive him to be now! It was no wonder the other had been avoiding him for the past week, ever since he had broken down in front of him that time!

To his surprise, no disgust flitted across the face of his friend, and instead a warm, understanding smile lighted up his handsome features as the twin waited patiently for him to carry on.

"I did not see my father at first, instead I only addressed ada, only realising his presence after!" Legolas said.

Elrohir reached forward immediately, wrapping his strong arms around the slight body.

"I will not let him at you, and neither would ada," he said more to himself than to the younger Elf.

"I am scared, Roh," Legolas managed a small whimper within the embrace. All his pretences of maturity and masked emotions ell away to reveal himself for the young one that he was, and he finally spoke of his fears.

"What should you be fearful of, tithen ernil?"

"My father. You should know how he feels about the last battle and mortals. His wrath will be great."

A sudden surge of anger filled Elrohir as he remembered what had befallen Legolas the last time Thranduil had let his emotions go. "I will let no harm get to you, Lass," he uttered, invoking that nickname of times long past.

Predictably the blonde Elf broke from his embrace, and shook his head emphatically. "I do not mean that, Roh. My father will never hurt me."

Elrohir fought hard but a derisive snort still managed to work its way out of him.

Ignoring his friend's disbelief, Legolas continued to speak. "It is he that I fear will be hurt. How would you feel if your son was taken in as a son by the one who caused the death of your father?"

"Legolas, you do realise it is sometimes good to think about yourself for a change!" Elrohir said in frustration.

"I agree, Master Elrohir," a new voice said

"Esendri!" said Legolas annoyed at being caught unawares.

The head of his servant appeared from the boughs of the tree above, and the Elf casually swung himself down onto the ground. "My apologies for interrupting," he said, sounding anything but.

"What business have you here?" Legolas said

"It seems that two very important people are vying for your undivided attention, my fair prince," Esendri said "His Majesty has sent for you in his chambers."

The frown on the Elven prince's face said it all, and Elrohir could not stop himself from placing a hand on the other's lower back in a hopefully comforting gesture.

"And the other?" Legolas said.

"The Lady Caeriel has also been asking for you. My, Legolas, duty or lust, which would you fulfil first?" Esendri said, jumping away quickly as a livid look appeared across the face of the other.

Legolas lunged forward, managing to just catch the other's arm. He twisted it forcefully behind his back, and marched him aside. Pinning the squirming Esendri face-on to a tree-trunk, he said. "That will do, my dear servant! That was completely out of order, even for one such as you! You soil the Lady's good name with your uncontrollable tongue, and this, I will not allow!"

All the while, Elrohir watched on, his face unreadable, although a strange light flickered in his eyes. In spite of the turmoil within him, the corners of his mouth curled upwards in the tiniest of smiles as he watched Esendri protesting against the treatment.

"My apologies, Roh, for Esendri did not mean to be so casual with his words," Legolas said to Elrohir, who shrugged off the apology without any comment.

"You say my father calls for me?" the prince turned to his servant. Something about his tone caused Esendri to snap out of his sulk, worry filling his face now.

"Legolas, do not read too much into it," he began, turning his gaze to Elrohir, who was trying to appear nonchalant for the other's sake.

"I believe he just wants to discuss the latest turn of events in Eryn Galen," Esendri continued, before leaning forward and giving Legolas a brief hug. "I must run, however. I will see you at the feast tonight!"

Leaving the surprised pair behind, he winked before turning on his heels and rushed off without a further word.

"What was he speaking of?" Elrohir asked Legolas, and only received an equally confused look in return.

"Perhaps we should be heading home?" he continued.

"Yes we should," Legolas answered, not sounding convinced, but taking a few reluctant steps in the direction of the palace.

Walking in silence beside Legolas, Elrohir could not help but sneak a few looks at him, watching coldness take hold of his features. A shiver went down his spine as he saw the way in which his friend forced the change over himself. There was something unnatural about his calm demeanour that made Elrohir feel a sudden urge to grab onto his friend and shake it out of him. "I cannot tell you what to do, Legolas. But I promise we will talk in good time," Elrohir continued. They were now within sight of the city. "Do not worry about your father as well; ada shall explain the circumstances in full to King Thranduil, and he will understand. I will see to that personally that he does!"

Seeing the twinkle in his eye, Legolas laughed. "You and what army?" he demanded.

A light punch on the arm from the other signalled an end to the awkwardness that had plagued their initial exchange, much to the delight to both. It was with a considerably lighter heart that Legolas knocked on the door leading to his father's chambers.

***

The guest chambers were not sound-proofed like those of the principle occupants of the house. Thranduil had heard the approach of his son from a considerable distance away, and his light-hearted bantering with another, who seemed of a young age as well. It was therefore with anticipation that he called for them to enter.

"Father," Legolas stepped forward and knelt before the monarch, only to be quickly made to get to his feet.

"Do not stand on ceremony, my son," he said.

"This is El - " Legolas began, turning to introduce the twin standing behind him.

"I believe I was met by young Master Elladan on the day when I arrived," Thranduil interrupted.

At this, his son laughed, as he recalled how the twins used to enjoy dressing identically to fool those around them, and how even their father had difficulties telling them apart, for they were identical even down to their dimples.

"Nay, father, this is Elrohir, younger son of Lord Elrond!" he said. "Do not worry, father, for I cannot yet tell them apart if their intention was to deceive me!"

Thranduil could not help but smile at the remark, looking at how alike the sons of Elrond were. "Perhaps I should refrain from addressing them by name to avoid embarrassing myself further!"

Elrohir nodded politely and greeted the monarch as one of his kindred, all the while growing increasingly puzzled. Thranduil struck him as being friendly and approachable, a complete contrast to what he had been expecting. He noticed his friend's puzzlement too at the behaviour of the king. However, Elrohir saw that Thranduil had a regal air, and a solemnity and a gracefulness about him, the last of which only was present in his son. Yet, the resemblance was still there, bar the hardness and sadness that was barely masked in those green eyes. Would this be what those blue ones look like, after he had been tested by centuries of experience?

"It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty, for Legolas has spoken much of you," he said. He felt his dislike for the other lessening already.

The look Thranduil gave Legolas was difficult to read, but Elrohir could have sworn he saw some tinge of regret in the way he regarded his son.

"I trust all is to your liking. The reunion between father and son is long-overdue. Do let us know if we can do anything to make your stay more comfortable," Elrohir continued, making his friend laugh with his formality. While known for being a diplomat, Elrohir was never one to stand on ceremony. It was strange to hear him speak so properly. Shooting Legolas a cross look, Elrohir quickly left the room.

"Have a seat, Legolas," Thranduil said, his face turning serious. Legolas tensed instantly.

Taking a deep breath, the young Elf obeyed. He cursed himself again, why did he feel so inadequate and so unsure of himself in front of his father all the time? Surely this was enough to earn a severe chiding off from the proud monarch already, for had he not stressed time and again how one had to be aware of portraying nothing less than an unwavering front?

To his surprise, Thranduil sighed heavily before sinking into an armchair as well. He had never seen his father look so tired or so strained.

"Do I invoke such fear in you?"

Legolas opened his mouth but no sound came out, so surprised was he at his father's words.

"Have I not told you before how much you resemble a fish when you do that?" Thranduil's words caused both sets of eyes to moisten, bringing back memories of a fine spring day almost two centuries past, when Legolas had, for the first time, on a walk of the palace grounds with his father as a boy of four, discovered for the first time the wonders of a forget-me-not. He had then stared, wide-eyed and open mouthed at the newly-closed leaves, unable to react, much to the delight of his father.

"Father, how goes the situation in Eryn Galen?" Legolas said trying to focus.

To his greatest shock the lip of his father, always proud and unbreakable, started trembling.

"I have erred so, Legolas." The words came out so hushed that the young Elf almost swore that he had made them up.

"It was always my intention of spending the rest of my days in the West after your mother left us. I merely delayed it as you were so little then. Dethronir was to have taken over as king of our people when you came of age at two-hundred. However, this obviously was not to be the case."

Stars flashed across the eyes of the Elven prince as the memories came flooding back. He would have collapsed from under the strain of them had he not been seated.

"I tried to make you someone you were not, and in doing so, almost cost you your life, if not for the timely rescue by Elrond. I cannot say how much I hate myself for doing this to you. I had thought it for the best, but clearly all it did was to deprive you of the warmth of a home. The thought of this haunts my dreams every night."

The tears came fast and hard, and Legolas pushed them aside with his palm. He did not trust himself to speak, instead continuing to stare at his father wordlessly, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

Thranduil leaned forward and touched the wet face of his son, gently caressing the smooth cheeks. The tears in his own eyes were now threatening to spill over, and he took a few deep, steadying breaths before he continued. "When you were born you brought such hope to our people, who had been so ravished by the darkness. Whenever I looked upon you, I saw the life and love present in Middle-Earth that made the losses and sacrifices we have sustained worthwhile. You were such a source of joy and comfort to your mother too, for your brother had been taken away from her as duty called. A late gift from the ainur, as we saw you. I watched you grow, saw that you resented the shackles of being a prince, but it is the destiny to which you were born.

"Your mother died, and I could not bring myself to look upon you as you lay, recovering from your wounds. Everything about you reminded me so much of her, for have you not been told how much you resemble her? Even after I finally brought the news upon you, every tear you shed, every cry you uttered seemed to be coming from her, and so I forbade you from doing so, because I did not want to see so beautiful a thing in pain. I saw then that to give oneself away completely to the world was to ask for hurt, and you were going down that very path. I had hoped to stop you from that suffering, especially when I were to leave. I did not want you to start to fade from my departure. Everything I did was for myself.

"Do you hate me, Legolas?"

More tears poured down the cheeks of the Elven prince, his mind flying in a thousand different directions. So this was his father as he really was. Yet, faced with such an open admission from his father, he suddenly found himself choking up on his own words. Instead, he shook his head furiously from side to side, drawing tears from the old monarch, who attempted a watery smile.

"I have never hated you, father," he finally breathed, amidst the haze of emotion that surrounded him. "I am sorry, I did not know that I was the cause of such pain."

Thranduil choked back a sob and took the head of his son into his arms, cradling it, smoothing the long blonde strands, feeling his tunic moisten with the tears of his son, the only thing he had left in this world now.

"You have caused no pain, Legolas. It was I that have inflicted much suffering on you. Even when you were all that I had left, I failed to see it and continued to drive you away. I can never hope for you to forgive me for what I have done to you."

"Nana once said that there was nothing we could hold against any that is not worth letting go off."

Thranduil nodded, remembering the wisdom that had filled the one that he loved so dearly. Seeing it reflected in his son now gave him strangely no grief, and instead filled him with a kind of resolution. A part of her still survived on in the beautiful creature before him, how could he have failed to see this before?

"Shall we start anew?”

As a response, Legolas looked up, eyes shining, the tears in them magnifying the blue by a thousand times. He smiled up at his father, and broke away gently, but still holding his gaze firmly. After a while, even that was broken, as the young Elven prince walked over to the balcony, his head held high, the poise he displayed taking his father's breath away. A melancholic tune broke from his lips, one that sent shivers down the spine of the king, who too moved over to look over Imladris in the setting sun, the words soon escaping his own lips, the rich bass of his voice complementing the tenor of his son's well. This time, there were only the two of them left to sing it, and each fervently hoped that it would be the last time Middle-Earth heard the song.

Arda's light has grown cold
The frost has settled
Taking over this heart
Which laments its loss

I cry out for your sweet kisses
But instead am met with doubt and fear
Your scent still lingers near
But I reach out to grasp on empty air
The words you used to whisper
Now blown away by the wind

Your love was once immortal
As was your existence
We thought it would last forever
An eternity of bliss
But instead you left me behind
Filled with sorrow and tears

You filled my heart with joy
And now it only knows grief
This song of mourning
Rings deep and clear
'O dearest queen,
Dearest wife
Dearest mother

*****

Sindarin Translations:
ion-nîn - my son
pen tithen - little one
ainur - holy ones
tithen lass - little leaf

Author's Note: Special thanks to my new beta, Chathol-linn, for her patient work and encouragement for me to write the song for Thranduil's wife.

"Have you seen Legolas, Esendri?" Emerging from the house, Elrohir ran straight into a red-faced and furtive servant.

Esendri quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before answering, "I believe he is visiting his mother's grave, as he is wont to do every time he returns. It is located to the north of the palace, ask anybody about and they will be able to point you to it." Having spoken, he quickly did an abrupt turn, and scurried off in the opposite direction.

Elrohir decided not to probe further, and instead followed the directions, coming up to the queen's grave with the aid of a passer-by or two, who did not seem to think it odd that a stranger sought out the burial ground. A grove was in plain view as he neared the entrance of the sacred place. He paused to marvel at the skill the Silvan Elves had with trees, and they way they tended the place and kept it immaculate.

Entering the grounds, Elrohir felt a sense of serenity come over him as he followed the path through the archway of lush, green leaves. Coming up to the final resting ground of his friend's mother, Elrohir was not surprised to see the blonde Elf kneeling in front of it, his head bowed. When he saw that Legolas did not respond, he walked up to the grave and got to his knees, saying a silent prayer for the departed soul of the queen, aware of his own loss at the same time.

"She was killed by Orcs and Dwarves," Legolas suddenly said, his voice choked and full of emotion, causing Elrohir to open his eyes in alarm. Turning towards his friends, Elrohir saw the alien expression of anger and hatred upon the fair face.

Legolas saw that the other was not about to say anything, and so held out a broken arrow.

"This killed her," he said.

"How did you find out?" The alarm within the twin rose by he second as he saw just how affected Legolas was. Surely Thranduil had better sense than to let his son in on the truth that he had been shielded from all these years. The relationship between father and son had taken its first wobbly steps on the mend ever since that day in Imladris, and it had been hoped that Legolas might finally have come to terms with his mother's death completely now that his father was willing to actually speak to him about it.

"It does not matter!" Legolas snapped. "By the Valar, Roh, if I had known it I would have killed that Dwarf in Imladris with a single shot through his black heart!"

"Legolas," Elrohir pleaded. "Do not let your anger cloud your thoughts, it was not he who killed your mother!"

"My thoughts are clearer than they have ever been for almost two hundred years! Why was this kept from me?"

"Why?"

"This is precisely the reason why. None of us wanted you to hate."

A cold laugh escaped the slender throat. "That was naïve. Sometimes hate can help one through when all else has failed."

"Can it help you, Legolas?" Elrohir said.

His friend did not respond to his question, and instead fixed his eyes on a spot on the tombstone, focusing on the intricate carvings that had been wrought by the finest stonemasters in their kingdom.

"My mother did not like anything beyond the simplest designs. This is why this grove lacks the ornate decorations that my father is so fond of. Only her gravestone was commissioned to bear designs fitting of a Queen of Eryn Galen. I cannot help but share her view. Does this not look more beautiful in its simplicity?"

The younger twin was startled by his sudden change in temperament and the topic. Worry swept through him as he beheld his unnaturally calm friend. He did not understand what had precipitated this turn of events. Legolas had emerged from that meeting with his father with shining eyes that were still filled with tears, and there had been something rekindled in him. He had shed all his burdens that night, Esendri had confided gleefully in Elrohir that it seemed as if the old Legolas had finally been returned to them. He had even managed a few misadventures on the journey back to Eryn Galen with his servant, the twins, and their friends, much to the exasperation of Glorfindel, who was leading the party, and the amusement of Thranduil, who now saw their antics through the eyes of a fond father.

It was here, looking at the calm that had befallen Legolas, that Elrohir suddenly remembered a warning that his own father had issued to both him and Elladan, one that spoke of their need for caution with regard to the Elven prince, that he was to be watched carefully at all times, and anything unusual was to be reported immediately to Glorfindel. At the time, both had left it without a second thought, as they saw that Legolas had seemed to finally become able to shrug the chains that weighed him down.

Searching his memory further, Elrohir now remembered how Legolas had set off to visit a friend, Lithroleah, just a few hours ago. It had struck him then, for it had been barely two hours after the prince had shown the twins to his house, and had taken his leave. Obviously something had happened in that meeting that he was not revealing now. "Have you not realised by now that keeping things from those who hold you the dearest never helps?" Elrohir tried to pry some information out from the other.

Pas expected , Legolas stiffened up at his words, and seemed to give the matter careful consideration. Just as the raven-haired Elf was about to let go of his breath which he had been holding, a sudden shudder went through his companion.

"Go away, Roh, I wish to be alone with nana." His words had turned icy cold, much to the other's aggravation.

"Legolas - "

"Leave me alone!" The words were spat out so forcefully that Elrohir rose and left quickly, feeling hurt at his friend's treatment.

Storming quickly down the path, he cursed under his breath. A fortnight of without having to worry for his friend, was that all one got these days? Clearly he had to seek out somebody else to air his concerns, but would it be Glorfindel or Thranduil?

"Hullo, Master Elrohir," the twin ran straight into Esendri.

"Perhaps you could talk some sense into that thick skull of his!" the raven-haired Elf growled.

"What has Legolas done now?" The light-hearted tone of the servant did little to sooth his frazzled nerves. "Switched your feywine for brine or spread honey all over your saddle?" Esendri said.

To the surprise of Esendri, Elrohir rolled his eyes and stormed off, muttering something in Quenya that sounded suspiciously like a curse about how Silvan Elves were to be the death of him.

Esendri shrugged and pushed on, soon drawing up on his friend. He sat cross-legged beside his master after bowing respectfully in front of the grave

"Legolas, I must say that I am greatly in awe of your ability to infuriate others. Pray tell me what on earth have you done to make Elrohir so angry?” I could use a trick or two!"

If Legolas had been startled by his entrance, he did not show it. Instead, he turned towards Esendri, the expression on his face being enough to wipe the smile off the cheery features.

"Did you know who nana's attackers were?" Legolas demanded.

"Nay, why ask you?"

"What is this?" Legolas waved an arrow in front of the small Elf's face, causing his grey eyes to widen in recognition.

"Orcs!" he exclaimed.

"Ai, Sen, Orcs and Dwarves," Legolas said.

Something felt wrong about the whole issue, and the smaller Elf knew it. Instinctively he quickly wrapped his arms around the neck of his friend from behind, pulling the lithe body close. Instead of leaning into the embrace as he usually did, however, Legolas shrugged him aside, irritation plain.

"Why was this hidden from me? It was clear they knew all along!"

"Tell me honestly, Legolas, do you think His Majesty and Lord Elrond would have wanted you going off to hunt down every single Orc and Dwarf within a thousand leagues as you will undoubtedly attempt to do? That would have been dangerous, if not utter foolishness! Ignorance might sometimes be the kindest thing, my fair prince!"

"Not when it concerns the death of your mother!"

"Wake up, Legolas! Can you not see that this hatred and thirst for revenge is pointless? My parents were taken captive and tortured out of their minds by Orcs! Do you see me trying to hunt them all down?" Esendri's voice was unnaturally high now

The blue eyes widened in shock. This was the first time that Esendri had ever spoken of the matter. Legolas never knew how his friend's parents had died

"They are - " Suddenly his voice was timid.

"Yes. It is a fate worse than death itself, say some," Esendri managed to say, turning his face away momentarily in an attempt to compose himself.

A few awkward minutes passed between the two, and a rising sense of guilt rose in Legolas.

"Please do not start that! You could never have known about this, your father is the only other one who does." A sad smile appeared across the sharp features of the younger Elf, as he gently pulled his friend into his arms. "It is not worth turning your heart over to hatred for. Your mother would never have wanted it to be this way."

"How did you cope, Esendri?" Legolas murmured.

Stroking the blonde tresses of his friend, Esendri took a while before he finally answered.

"By knowing that you would not have survived long without me."

"What do you mean by that, Esendri Ceadirion?" Legolas demanded haughtily, although there was now a ghost of a smile on his face.

"You know full well, Master, that you owe your continued existence entirely to me. There is no denying it, so you might as well give in to it!"

In response, Legolas laughed before pulling on a mock scowl. "I do not know of what you speak, Esendri! Hard evidence is what I need!"

An evil chuckled rumbled through the servant, who promptly started blowing lightly at the pointed ear of his friend, causing him to squirm uncomfortably. He held on tightly as the blonde Elf made a half-hearted attempt to escape.

"I admit defeat, mellon-nîn, and will take your word for it!" Legolas said, for it was getting unbearable.

Esendri smiled to himself but carried on the torment a while more before stopping.

"I shall have no more such talk from you, my little Elf, or I shall think out other better ways of torturing you!" he chuckled, before letting go of his grip on the other.

Even after he had been released, Legolas lay leaning on his friend, a sense of peacefulness taking over him once again, although the events of the past week were not far from his mind.

"It has been a long journey, Master Legolas, I presume some rest is in order?" Esendri broke the silence, sensing that his friend seemed to be drifting off.

"Ai, Esendri, the events of past days have indeed taking their toll," said the prince.

The servant picked up the allusion immediately, and tried to push him further.

"I trust all is well now between you and your father?"

"It will take time for the wounds to heal, for long has it been. I now regret that I viewed him the way I used to. For so long have we been strangers. I wake from turbulent dreams still, my mind taken over by confusion and remorse at how it came to be so."

"Indeed it should never have been to that, but take comfort in that what is wrong has been righted," Esendri counselled. "In the meantime, I would recommend you get as much rest as possible ere the feast tonight, for I have been told that it will last till dawn and will be held on a scale as never was seen under the leaves of this forest for centuries! His Majesty seems to be in high spirits!"

Legolas laughed as he thought of how feasts like this used to end, with he and his servant collapsed in a pile, unconscious from excessive pranks and merry-making, until they had awoken late the next day, untouched, with splitting headaches and how they had taken days just to recover from the ordeal.

Esendri pushed his master off himself and got to his feet. "To bed with you!" he commanded sternly, before hoisting the Sindarin prince to his feet and forcing him back to his dwellings before Legolas could even react.

*****

Sindarin Translations:
mellon-nîn - my friend

The early autumn sun hung high in the sky as the guests took their places. The members of the company from Imladris occupied the main table in honour of their mission to come.

"I have heard stories of Thranduil's feasts, and the great escapades that go along with it, Esendri. I hope you do not disappoint tonight!" Elladan said as he took his seat between Esendri and Elrohir.

"From whom might you have done so, I wonder?" Esendri said innocently.

"Needless to say tonight will be no exception," Elrohir added. "Mayhap Dan and I will be able to make a few contributions!"

The delight on the face of the servant drew snorts of laughter from the twins, who turned and gave him identical grins. It was then that he realised that they were dressed in outfits that were so similar that one had to look carefully in order to distinguish the two.

Esendri's answer was swallowed by the entrance of the king, and all rose. Thranduil smiled graciously and took his place, flanked by Legolas and Glorfindel, a distance away from the young Elves. Legolas looked so uncomfortable in his ceremonial dress that his friends half-expected him to start tugging at his collar. He was ostensibly avoiding looking in their direction, and instead acknowledged those around him with measured grace.

"Why is Caeriel seated beside Legolas?" Elladan whispered. Esendri shrugged, shrugging aside a nagging feeling.

"A very good evening to all." Thranduil had risen, his powerful voice and commanding presence drawing the attention of all instantly. Esendri sniggered at his formality, but fell silent when he was elbowed hard by Elrohir.

"This feast is held in honour of special guests from Imladris, and in celebration of the re-strengthening of ties between our kingdoms. We face dark times, and it is important that we stand together, as we did against the Dark Lord. The fate of Middle-Earth lies in our hands once again.

"It is under such circumstance that I anoint my successor officially today, with all present to bear witness to this."

A round of tumultuous applause and cheering greeted his words, for the Silvan folk had great love for the younger prince. The newly appointed crown prince rose after a couple of seconds, before gradually acknowledging the applause.

Elrohir turned over and looked accusingly at Esendri, disbelief and shock written all over his face.

"I did not know about this!" cried the servant between loud cries of jubilation for his friend.

"it seems neither did Legolas," Elladan said, clapping hard.

When the applause died down, Thranduil spoke again. "It is also with pleasure that I announce his betrothal to the Lady Caeriel!"

Another round of cheers rose from the guests, and this time, the bewilderment was all too clear on Legolas's face. Still standing, he shot a quick look at Esendri. None of them realised the reactions of others in the room, from the furrowing of the brows of Glorfindel, to the flabbergasted expression of Lithroleah, as well as the polite smile on Caeriel's face as she too stood up.

Eventually, Legolas seemed to regain some of his composure, and turned to address those gathered.

"Thank you for your well wishes. I am privileged indeed to have this duty bestowed upon me, and will try my best to live up to the responsibilities that come with this honour, and accept it with humility. The needs of my people will always be at the forefront of every undertaking, especially in time such as this."

Another more ovations greeted his words, and he waited for it to die down with apprehension on his face.

"It is however, with deep regret, that I announce that I am unable to take the Lady Caeriel as my wife, for this would be a disregard of the free will that our people hold so highly."

A shocked silence filled the hall, and Thranduil's cheek before he rose.

"It is a little known fact that Lady Caeriel's father was the greatest loremaster in the history of Eryn Galen, who disappeared without a trace before she was born. He requested that his unborn child would be betrothed to a child of mine, provided she does not object to the union."

All eyes focused on the Elf-maiden

"My liege, it is an honour that I gladly accept," she said, her gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, avoiding making direct eye contact with any.

The smile that lit up Thranduil's face was measured, as he shot his son a warning look. Legolas smiled, no, grimaced, at those present. He knew that there was to be no further challenging the authority of his father, but the rest of his brain was screaming warnings at him. Once again, a sense of being a pawn rose in him, as he realised how little control he had over his own life. The cheers around him did little to soothe his wildly thumping heart, as he mechanically turned and kissed his childhood friend's hand graciously, drawing yet more applause.

"Elrohir!" Elladan hit his stunned brother hard on the back of his head.

"Ow!" the younger twin cried, squinting in annoyance at his brother. "That was not in the slightest bit necessary!"

"Care to share your thoughts with us, Roh?" Elladan said, smirking at his irritation.

Elrohir blushed and scowled at his giggling friends. He noted the pained expression on the face of the Elven prince as he attempted to accept the congratulations with as much grace as he could muster.

"Let the festivities begin!" Thranduil cried, before he sat down as well.

On cue, servers appeared with platters of rich and exotic fruit, laying them down on the plates of amazed guests. Before long, their goblets were filled, and the merry chatter soon filled the dining area. Musicians struck up lively music at the far end of the clearing, and minstrels and entertainers started mingling among the guests.

After the plates had been cleared for the next course, Esendri rose, a goblet in one hand, and a white-gold carafe with intricate carvings in the other. He winked at the twins, who exchanged delighted glances, before sauntering up to his master, presently engaged in awkward conversation with Caeriel. Esendri winked at the twins, who egged him on devilishly.

"Caunri Legolas," Esendri said as he sank to one knee with an exaggerated flourish. "Shall your humble servant polish your crown for you?"

As expected, Legolas coloured furiously, and dragged him up to his feet.

"Behave yourself, Esendri!" he said, drawing a giggle from Caeriel.

"Ah, the lovely wife of the prince, what can I offer you, a drink, mayhap?" Esendri turned his attentions to the lovely maiden, presenting his goblet to her with even more exaggerated twirls of his hand.

Unable to take it, Legolas rose from his chair, and firmly marched his servant away from the table.

Once a distance away, Legolas relinquished his grip, and threw his hands up in exasperation.

"How does it feel now, Master Legolas, to be suddenly given both power and a lovely wife? I would watch your progress carefully, for I fear you about to turn into someone without any humour, as those who are married and powerful are usually wont to be. How many children - "

A punch in the shoulder sent him backwards a few steps, the goblet in his hand dropping to the ground as he struggled to keep his balance.

"It is of no laughing matter, Esendri!" Legolas said, his brows tightly knitted. "I cannot accept Caeriel's hand in marriage!"

"Try telling that to your father, Legolas, not especially after you made no further protests in front of everyone."

"I could hardly have said no there and then!"

"Then you have accepted it!"

"Are you blind? Can you not see that she does not love me?"

Esendri patted the shoulder of his friend congenially.

"I understand your pain, but there is naught we can do about it. At least not tonight, so why not enjoy yourself?"

Legolas gritted his teeth in frustration, and looked away, only to find the carafe being thrust into his face.

"A drink, master?"

Glaring at his servant, Legolas grabbed the container over from his friend and took a quick swig out of it, almost coughing.

"By Elbereth, Esendri, where did you get this from?" he spluttered, "'Tis practically pure alcohol!"

In response, Esendri gave him a wink and returned back to the feast, where the next course was already being served.

Left behind, the Elven prince studied the still almost-full carafe he held, before sighing and downing its contents. Almost immediately, a warm, fuzzy glow began to fill his head, and he too made his way back to the feast.

Caeriel seemed to notice something amiss, and looked at him with concern.

"Legolas?" she enquired, only to receive a broad smile in return.

"Eat up, Caeriel, for the days ahead will be dark indeed!" Legolas replied, now wishing he had never finished the drink his friend had proffered him, or that he had at least eaten something during the day, for the night was still young, and he could already feel the effects of the drink starting to get to his head.

By the time the eighth course was served, joyous laughter filled the forest, and a row of guests had taken to dancing in the middle of the clearing.

With another three carafe's worth of the same liquid under his belt, Legolas rose from his seat and wandered unsteadily over to his friends, who were huddled together, whispering furiously.

"What, may I ask, are you three whispering about?"

The evil looks the trio gave him was enough to send him into expressions of delight.

"Keeping up the traditions, I see, Esendri?" he practically shouted.

"Hush, Legolas, or you will give the game away!" said Esendri, and it was then that Legolas noticed the vial of liquid he held in his hands.

"That, is unoriginal, Esendri; anyone can think of honey!"

"Nay, Master, this is a concoction brewed by none other than the great twin Lords of Imladris!"

"And what purpose does it serve, Roh?" Legolas turned and faced one of the twins.

"My apologies, Legolas, but I am Elladan!" the twin said, causing the Elven prince to colour.

"What purpose does it serve then, Elladan?" Legolas repeated.

"I fear letting you in on this, Legolas, for what will others think if their crown prince were to start pulling pranks on them?" the other twin said.

Indignation filled the blonde Elf, and he squinted in anger at him. "Very well, we will just have to play the trick on somebody who is not from Eryn Galen!"

"Our thoughts exactly! How about gluing a certain Elflord to his seat?" Esendri giggled, gesturing in the direction of Glorfindel, who was dancing with a girl that Legolas recognised as being the daughter of one of his father's advisors, although he could not, for the life of him, recall her name at the moment.

Evil sniggers escaped both twins, who stood up, and both strode over to the Eldar's seat, and gestured for their friends to join them.

"What now, Dan?" Legolas asked as he neared.

"My name is Elrohir!" the twin corrected, causing Legolas to blink in surprise again. He could have sworn that - Shaking his head, Legolas tried to clear his thoughts.

Elrohir stuck his hand out for the vial, and Esendri uncapped it, before pouring its contents over the outstretched palms. The twin then winked and spread it carefully over the seat of the still-dancing Elflord. He chuckled as he thought of the other's reaction when he found himself being stuck onto his chair.

"Would you like some of this?" The twin with his hands full of the sticky substance, whoever he was, wound his arms around Legolas from behind, and thrust his hands out in front of him. "'Tis very good!"

Without a second thought, the prince took a measured lick of a finger, the sweet, floral taste with a hint of lavender causing him to shudder in delight. More desperate licks of the fingers followed, and he was soon sucking greedily on the long and slender index finger.

Esendri exchanged a surprised look with the other twin, who also looked back at him with his mouth hung open. Both shook their heads, unsure of whether they were seeing it correctly.

"Have I had too much to drink already?" Esendri murmured at the other, and turned away from the sight before them.

When the pair showed no signs of letting up, the servant coughed loudly, and averted his gaze as they abandoned their behaviour. He noted with amusement that at least both had the decency to blush and break apart, the peredhel quickly hiding his hands behind his back, and Legolas running the back of his hand over his mouth in a futile attempt to wipe off the sticky fluid.

Clearing his throat, Esendri turned and faced the other twin, who was still looking away with a maddening grin on his face, and waved a bag of herbs in front of their faces before saying loudly, "So, Master Elladan, shall we proceed to see if Gallenon makes an excellent chicken?"

This time around, Legolas decided he really did not want to know what they had planned, and made his excuses, before sinking into his seat, carefully making sure he did not sit on Glorfindel's chair by mistake. Taking a few swigs of the water jug, his attention was drawn to Caeriel, who had just returned from a dance with Allanor.

"Enjoying yourself, Legolas?" she teased, seeing how red he had turned.

If it were possible, he turned redder still, before muttering something about Esendri's feywine.

Giggling, she took a small, measured sip out of her wine glass.

"A walk might do you good!" she suggested, standing up and holding out her hand.

Legolas agreed, and got to his feet unsteadily, following her lead away from the noise and the crowd. He leaned back against a tree, letting go of her hand, before taking another swig of ice-cold water in an attempt to chase away the haze that surrounded his brain.

Unknown to them both, Esendri, Elladan, and Elrohir had followed at a distance, and were watching, trying to stifle their giggles, although they were not doing a very good job.

"Roh, you should have known better than to let Legolas have the contents of the vial in the state he is in!"

Esendri turned and looked at them quizzically, noting the guilty blush that filled Elrohir's face.

"Ai, the concoction might effect as an aphrodisiac when taken with copious amounts of alcohol," Elladan explained.

Legolas felt his heart beat increase and his mouth go dry. Why was he feeling like this?

"Caeriel," he breathed, leaning forward. Why did he feel so hot? Surely the wine was not affecting him so much! Once again, he tried to clear his head from the dizzying haze that surrounded him, but to no avail.

She smiled at him, face lighting up.

"Why did you agree to marry me?" the Elven prince finally blurted. "I will not hold it against you were you to decline."

In response, the girl reached forward and stroked his cheek lightly, and he moved away from the touch, not trusting himself to stay in control any further.

"Your father sought me out yesterday and asked if I were agreeable, and I did not raise any objections," she said.

"Why?" he pressed. "Does your heart not belong to Lithroleah?"

She shook her head, the sadness in her eyes not quite hidden from him in spite of his state, but her voice was steely. "I have let him down, but have made my choice."

"You do not have to do this."

She pressed her hand to his lips, stopping his protests.

"I made a choice, Legolas, and I chose you."

"Why?"

"Need there be reasons? Unless you do not wish to go ahead with it."

"Mayhap it is time we left them alone!" Elladan's whisper in his ear jolted Esendri. As an answer, he shook his head vigorously and indicated that they should stay just a while longer. Elladan relented as he saw that his brother too was watching with rapt attention.

"Caeriel - " Legolas tried to speak again.

He was silenced by a soft, sweet mouth being pressed to his own, and stepped back in shock. When the contact did not break, all vestiges of control shattered, and he returned the kiss, pressing eagerly into the contact, cupping her soft face with his palms. After what seemed like an eternity of sweet bliss, Caeriel gently broke apart.

"Esendri, shall we leave now?" Elladan tried again, feeling awkward at having caught a friend in such a personal moment.

The servant nodded. The older twin motioned toward Elrohir, drawing the servant's attention to the preoccupied look upon his face. Without a word, both grabbed an elbow each, and carried him back towards the feast, Elladan clapping a hand firmly over his brother's mouth to prevent him from protesting out loud.

The scuffle was heard by Caeriel, who looked up.

"Esendri!" she shouted, guessing correctly the cause of the noise after a moment's consideration.

As she tried to leave to go after the servant, Legolas grabbed her arm.

"Please, stay," he croaked.

Just as she were about to acquiesce, a loud roar erupted from the dining guests. Enraged shouts interspersed with peals of laughter.

"Elladan! Elrohir!" One could not help but feel nervous for the twins at the way their names were being hollered out.

A giggle passed through Caeriel as realisation dawned about what was going on. She turned and faced Legolas, mouthing something he could not quite make out, before indicating that he follow her. She then turned and hurried back, without turning to look if Legolas had followed her.

Left behind, the Elven prince could only grind his teeth in frustration for letting himself lose control. When taking a few deep breaths of the cool air did not seem to help, he took the jar of water in his hand and emptied its entire icy-cold contents over his head in an attempt to clear it.

Brushing the water away from his eyes, he noted that he was still wearing his cumbersome robes, which were dragging him down. He quickly removed the flowing outer raiment to reveal more comfortable breeches and a light tunic. His father would have had a fit if he had seen the delicate robes with their gold embroidery being tossed aside and lying in a heap on the forest floor, but the Silvan prince was past caring about such matters.

Just as he was about to rejoin the melee in search of more food and drink, another rustle broke the trees and he looked up to find the dark eyes of Yuvinel staring straight back at him.

"Yuvinel!" he cried happily, stepping forward to greet the girl warmly. "How find you our festivities?"

"Congratulations, Legolas, on both your anointment and your betrothal to such a lovely lady," she said, the strain in her voice not quite escaping his notice.

"What is wrong, my lady?"

"Don't worry, Legolas. I'm just tired, and wanted to let you know I am returning back to my room." A tight smile pasted itself onto her face that did not quite fool him, but decided it was not his place to push her further.

"I shall walk you back."

"There is no need for that!"

"I insist."

***

When Legolas returned to the banquet grounds, he was accosted immediately by Esendri, who shoved a goblet into his hand. Grinning at his obviously wasted friend, Legolas downed its contents, letting the drink fill his head with warmness. Looking around, he saw that the musicians and performers were still going strong, as were the revellers.

"Lass, I must say it quite an achievement, two girls after you in a single night! Even I cannot claim to posses such charm about me! Although I must say one would have been quite enough for me, as I am not greedy!"

The blonde Elf coloured furiously, but decided not to tell him off for spying on him.

"The twins have fled, for Lord Glorfindel has managed to spring free from our trap. Gallenon and Allanor are passed out under some table somewhere. These humans are absolutely appalling at holding their drink!"

"Mayhap you had something to do with it?"

"Me?" Esendri's grey eyes opened wide with a well-formed innocence, causing Legolas to raise his eyebrows.

"Legolas!" he turned to see the pair of twins, now ever more identical than ever, approaching, successful in shaking off Glorfindel.

"Hullo, dearest Ran and Doh!" Legolas greeted the twins with the names he had used for them as a child, when he had been unable to distinguish them apart. That in itself drew a few laughs from the pair. "Managed to get rid of Glorfindel, have we?"

"I am amazed your father allows the existence of such traps so near the palace! They are brutal!"

"Nothing a few good swipes of a blade cannot handle!" Legolas laughed. "Might I add that Esendri and I constructed them such that only the weight of an Elf would trigger them off, and so you need not fear about helpless animals being trapped in them!"

"Legolas, ever the animal-lover!"

"Ai, Lord Eilwar looks lost!" Esendri cried, spotting an old friend. "Perhaps we should make him feel welcome?"

Legolas laughed, but politely declined the offer to wreck more havoc, pleading exhaustion.

"Very well, go ahead and be all stately and dignified!" Esendri left his friend behind without a second glance, followed closely by one of the twins.

"Come, Legolas, perhaps more drink will lift you out of your tiredness?" The remaining twin handed him another wine glass.

"To the mission," the twin toasted.

"To Arda," Legolas replied, downing the contents and reaching for more.

*****

Sindarin Translations:
Caunri - Crown Prince

A/N: Yes, I am afraid that Elves do get drunk, if reading the Hobbit is anything to go by. Rest assured, however, that this is more a one-off thing, as is the romance/almost Mary-Sue-ish bit. Also, I hope to explain the apparent non-canonical element of arrange marriage between Elves in a later part of the story.

New material at last, apologies for having re-written the whole story, again. I promise there're only a few more chapters left, and no more re-writes will take place, because that'll just drive both me and my readers mad! I've also noticed lots of you are reading this, so please leave me a little note to let me know what you think.

Finally, I thought I should mention that this story does not have any m/m pairings.

Legolas came to with a jolt, and immediately closed his eyes again as the moonlight filtering through the trees hit his eyes. His head hurt, and he found himself wishing that he had had the intelligence to deny Elrohir's challenge to that last drinking game. Squinting through the dim light, he took a brief look and almost managed a grin at the carnage around him. The servants would have their work cut out for them, for empty goblets, half-eaten fruits, and gold plates lay scattered as far as the eye could see. Obviously he had been left to recover on his own in the clearing while everyone else slept off the effects of the feast during the day.

It was then that Legolas noted that he was somewhat tangled in a heap with someone else, and that a limb lay across his chest, pinning him down. A huge effort was made, and with much grunting and shuffling, he finally managed to work himself free to what now presented itself as one of Elrond's twin sons. A closer look revealed him to be Elrohir, and Legolas chuckled when he saw that the other would at least be in the same condition, if not worse-off than him when he finally awoke.

Getting up to his feet, his head protested massively at the effort. He blinked, willing them into focus, and took a short walk around the area, inspecting the damage done. No further bodies lay in sight, he was disappointed to note, and there was no sign of either Esendri nor Elladan. He picked up a somewhat whole-looking fruit from the ground, dusted it on his sleeve, and bit into it, before returning to his friend.

Seeing that Elrohir was still unconscious, Legolas grinned again, and crouched down beside his friend. In his hand was a long, thin feather which he used to gently tickle the exposed ear of his friend. It was then that he noted Elrohir's ear was more rounded than his own. It had never quite occurred to him before that Elrond's sons had the blood of Man running in them.

The unconscious peredhel on the ground twitched irritably. Legolas beamed with delight and redoubled his efforts, this time blowing gently into his ear. A hand shot up and brushed away the feather, and a loud growl escaped his friend. After a few seconds, Legolas saw that Elrohir's eyes had opened a crack, and a long groan made its way out of his lips, as he finally came around to discover his discomfit.

The younger son of Elrond turned around abruptly, wishing that he did not.

"Good evening, my good Elrohir!" Legolas said.

"Evening yourself!"

Elrohir was upon Legolas in no time, startling the Elven prince into falling over backwards and landing hard upon his behind. The raven-haired Elf took the opportunity to sit down hard on his stomach, straddling him and pinning him down to the ground, winding the fair Elf. He leaned forward and studied the Silvan Elf.

"You do not look too good yourself!" he gloated, ignoring the million needles piercing his head.

"Do not shout, Elrohir." Legolas winced, but did not bother to fight off his friend, wishing once again that he had not had so much to drink the night before. It was then that something caught his attention.

"Roh, get off me!" he hissed.

"Only if you beg!"

"Roh, this is no joking matter!" The tone in his voice was enough to make the other obey.

"What is it?"

"Hush!" Legolas said, his eyes sweeping the area. Even then he knew that his senses were greatly weakened by his current state, and could not stop cursing himself for letting this happen. He rose slowly from the ground, Elrohir now at his side, the half-Elf dazed but tense.

"Run to my father, tell him to prepare his defences!" Legolas shouted as the first arrow whizzed through the air, narrowly missing the pair, his long knife already unsheathed. It was a good thing he was armed at all times, although he found himself missing his bow dearly.

"I can fight!" Elrohir shouted as they got to their feet and ducked behind a tree simultaneously.

Facing the younger twin, Legolas took on a hardened look, staring hard into the eyes of his friend.

"With what, Elrohir, your dagger? Somebody has to warn my father, Eryn Galen will fall if were we to be attacked without warning! I can handle them!" he insisted, before pushing his friend away, and stepped out from behind the tree, where the firsts Orcs had started to appear.

Instantly, he took down the nearest Orc with his knife, adrenaline pumping through him, causing him to forget his hangover. His experience in battle started to pay off as he mechanically took down the beasts one by one, although something else, a new feeling of intense hatred and anger, a compulsion to see his enemies die a painful, suffering death, surged through him as he killed, mindlessly and numbly. While still not overwhelmed, he knew that his body was dehydrated and weakened, and that he could not stand up to the onslaught alone. All he was wishing for was to buy Elrohir a chance to get the message across, or was it? Somehow, he knew that he would not rest until every single one of the foul creatures lay dead at his feet.

A sudden, devastating pain shot through his right shoulder. It caused him to lose his concentration, and a rope shot through his defences, wrapping itself around his leg, pulling hard, and making him lose his balance. He hacked at it immediately with his knife as he fell to the ground, but to no avail.

The Orcs were upon him in an instant, hissing and snarling. He beat away, all the while attempting to free his leg from the rope. It was a losing battle, but he refused to go down without a fight. More ropes shot out, restraining his other limbs. He struggled valiantly, but it was in vain.

Rendered immobile by his bondages, the Elven prince looked up to see that all but one of the Orcs had stepped aside. He was hauled up by his collar, and pinned against a tree. He struggled, only to be rewarded with a hard blow against his cheek.

"Well, well, look what we've got 'ere!"

"Kill me, you coward!" he cried, while testing his bonds.

"There will be no escaping, Elf, for do you not realise what binds you?" the Orc said, pointing to the right.

The sight that greeted his eyes was so horrifying that Legolas's face twitched, for there stood a spider at least five feet high, larger than anything he had ever seen before, its yellow, multifaceted eyes glinting in the moonlight. He knew the creatures of the forest well, and never before had he come across the mention of such a beast.

"This will be the beginning of the end of your people," hissed the Orc, bringing a crudely-made blade to the face of the prince. "How I 'ate your kind!"

He strengthened the pressure on the knife and drew it down, causing a long, thin cut to appear down Legolas's smooth cheek.

"Perfect, is that what you think you are? Not any more!" The Orc laughed sardonically, and brought his blade to the other side of his face. "Surrender, and I shall spare your pretty face from complete mutilation! Otherwise, your father will find your body, ravished beyond recognition. That is, if 'ee survives tonight!"

Legolas spat on his face, the hatred in him growing stronger. This earned him another few slashes across his face. The Orc cast aside the blade, and grabbed his slender neck, putting a slight pressure on his throat, causing him to gag.

"Go on, call for your mother, for whatever 'elp she might be!"

A sudden ringing filled the ears of the Elven prince, and the hatred that had been brewing in him erupted. All he saw was red, and he wrenched his right arm free from the threads that bound him, and brought it up against the startled creature's throat.

Ignoring the tightening sensation against his own throat, he hissed, "You shall pay for what you have done!"

He tightened his hold, and the wave of power that came over him were strong and intense. The loathing in him was so great that he fed it and pressed further, ignoring the screams of fear around him.

You shall pay for her death. Each and every last one of you. I shall drink the last of you dry.

The thoughts that flew about his head were scattered, and his senses were dulled to the outside world. All he had left to focus one was his raw abhorrence, the anger within him that had been building up all these years. He did not see the fear and panic on the faces of the Orcs around him as they felt a sudden choking of their lives, did not feel it as the hand around his throat slowly released its pressure. All he wanted was to see them all suffer and die, and he took comfort in the terror shown in those red eyes before him.

Now cry.

A sudden flash of white light, and he found himself drinking in eagerly, greedily sucking at the force which enveloped him. More, that was what he craved now. A plethora of emotions, screaming in unison, and a sudden, intense burst of pain exploded around him, before the world turned black.

"My lord!" Elrohir burst into the study of the king, all formalities and manners thrown out of the window.

A hand grabbed him around the throat, catching him by surprise.

"Thought you could run, my young one?"

"No time - Orcs - attack - Legolas!" he gasped.

Glorfindel dropped his hand upon hearing his words.

"Calm down, Elrohir, and take a breath. You are rather incomprehensible!" Thranduil urged, fighting down his panic.

"Eryn Galen is under attack! Orcs! Hordes of Orcs! I and Legolas came under attack!"

Thranduil sprung into action, dashing out of the room after giving Glorfindel instructions to keep Elrohir where he was. Even then, the blonde Eldar had a difficult time trying to calm Elrohir down.

"I must return to help Legolas!" Elrohir was insisting as Thranduil re-entered the room with Felnor ten minutes later.

"Where is he?" asked Thranduil.

"The site of the feast!" Elrohir shouted, almost hyperventilating. "He will be overrun!"

"Very well. Glorfindel, go with Elrohir in search of Legolas. Bring him back to the palace, and do not allow him to go in search of more fighting! We will have time for that later!"

Elrohir nodded and would have sprang out of the window had Felnor not stopped him.

"How might you go to his aid without any weapons?" Felnor asked wryly, , and held out a long sword, which Elrohir accepted appreciatively.

"This way!" Glorfindel said, dragging a protesting Elrohir away from the window. "Normal folk exit through the door!"

They had barely left the study when loud trumpets sounded through the palace, summoning warriors, Glorfindel noted how disciplined and orderly the Silvan Elves were; there were no scenes of mass alarm or panic. Even the servants of the palace quickly took up their arms, women included.

Stepping out of the palace, the pair were just about to run off in the direction of the feast ground when they ran into Esendri, Elladan, and Galaesslin, a Healer from Imladris who had been chosen as one of the company.

"Glorfindel!" cried Elladan. "What news?"

"We are under attack by Orcs! Legolas is out there, fighting them off alone!" Elrohir cried, not stopping to explain any further.

"We shall go with you!" Esendri dashed off after Elrohir before any could reply.

They had barely gotten a hundred yards when a sudden screeching in the air caused them to stop. It hit them and got more unbearable. They stopped and placed their hands over their ears in an attempt to shut it out, only to no avail. Elrohir turned back with great effort to see that the rest too were covering their ears, and pain was written across all their faces. Esendri had fallen to the ground, where he was writhing in agony and clutching at his head. Elrohir stumbled toward him and crouched down helplessly beside him.

Almost as suddenly as it began, the loud screeching stopped, leaving the Elves staring at each other in confusion.

"Esendri!" Elrohir cried. Glorfindel was over, and he quickly pressed a palm to Esendri's forehead, which he found to be hot.

"Get him back to the palace!" commanded the Eldar.

As if in response, Esendri seemed to relax while Elladan scooped him into his arms. His eyes flew open, and he cried out his master's name, and he struggled wildly, refusing to be carried any further.

"I must save him!" he shouted. He leapt to his feet, pushing away the giddiness, the weakness, and took off.

Sprinting ahead, Esendri was caught off-guard by the attack from the right, and it was only Elrohir's timely blocking of the blow that saved him from serious injury. In no time, the party was surrounded by hissing, screaming Orcs. They worked through the creatures methodically, knowing that every second lost meant that the danger surrounding Legolas would grow further.

They dispatched the company of Orcs in good time, and carried on. All stopped abruptly and looked around in shock as they neared their destination. The skeletons of trees greeted their eyes, and the charred-like remains of birches, and the bodies of dozens of Orcs were scattered about.

Glorfindel quickly did a cursory check while the young ones blanched. Looks of surprise and terror were on the Orcs's faces, as if they had been mysteriously struck down by something they had not expected.

"The place, it is bereft of life, I cannot explain it!" Esendri managed to whisper, and he shivered in cold fear.

"Be on the lookout, strange deeds are about us!" Glorfindel said.

After a while, the dead number of Orcs seemed to increase, and before long, Elladan spotted one that had been killed physically, a big, gaping wound in its neck. The Elves did not linger, and instead pressed forward, a sense of doom in each of their stomachs. If Legolas were here, they did not wish to think about what had befallen him.

"Legolas!" Esendri cried, throwing all caution to the wind, as he spotted a glimpse of blonde hair lying amidst the Orc-bodies. All but Glorfindel were there in a second, and the servant quickly pushed aside the foul, reeking bodies to reveal his worst fears. There lay Legolas, his face covered in blood, unconscious and not breathing, as far as they could tell.

"Galaesslin, keep watch while I examine him!" Glorfindel said, before pushing Esendri aside. "He is hot to the touch, and still alive. His physical wounds are superficial, but we must get him back to the palace!"

The Eldar picked up the limp form after checking him for further injuries, and began a quick sprint back to the palace.

Another party of Orcs accosted them. Glorfindel looked about before passing Legolas over to Elrohir.

"Esendri, we will attempt to clear a path for Elrohir. You two take Legolas back, we shall re-group at the palace once we are rid of these filth!" Glorfindel said, taking out another Orc that strove to strike at him.

Elrohir had no time to think, and so mindlessly followed the instructions given to him. The minute an opening presented itself, he charged through it ferociously, bowling down startled Orcs in the process. Any that tried to take him down were killed by Esendri, who was not far behind.

It was not long before they had shaken off the Orcs, and came into sight of the firsts lines of Eryn Galen's defence. If not for the quick wits of the warriors, a volley of arrows would have greeted their appearance. Instead, hands were stretched out in aid, although Elrohir declined them all, refusing to relinquish the precious bundle he was holding.

"This way to the palace!" cried Esendri, and Elrohir followed.

Once they were within the safe parameters of the palace, the pair headed straight for the great hall, used for healing in times such as this. They placed Legolas down on the cushions, and healers were over in a moment, taking them aside and examining their prince.

"Esendri, what happened?" Nearil, the chief healer asked.

"We found him at the feast site, he was being attacked by Orcs!"

"Prince Legolas does not seem to be badly injured outwardly; yet he lies in a trance. But do not fear; I shall try to rouse him from this strange sleep. The cuts on his face and around his limbs are already starting to heal and he will be rid of them within a day or so! In the meantime, I suggest you wait outside, for we expect many more injured to be brought to us."

The pair exited the room, throwing last glances at Legolas. Once outside, they threw each other tired looks, each thinking about how this was not the first time they had been cast into such a position. A weak chuckle escaped them both.

"Pray, do not ask," Esendri stopped Elrohir before he could even speak. "Probably the fiftieth time this century?"

A small smile escaped the younger twin as the pair started walking. "Then I shall count myself as lucky for having rushed him to healers a mere ten times!"

"Where to now, Master Elrohir?"

"We should inform your king of his son's more or less safe return."

"Ai, this way to his study!"

"The Orcs are attacking from the North and West, our people are currently engaged in driving them off. All seems well at the moment, for the Orcs are attacking in small to medium companies, and the defences will hold. There are reports, however, of a large massacre of Orcs within a metre's radius around the site of the feasting grounds. Even the trees were killed by whatever attacked them." Felnor concluded his report, and waited patiently for his orders.

"And my son?" Thranduil asked, as he suddenly realised where Legolas was supposed to have been.

"There is still no news from Lord Glorfindel and Elrohir."

The doors to the study were flung open, and a pair of young Elves rushed in.

"Your Majesty, we found Legolas!" Esendri cried.

"How fares he?" Thranduil asked, noting with increasing apprehension that Legolas was nowhere in sight.

"He is unconscious and has suffered cuts to his face. The healers are working on him, but we have been told it is nothing serious. He now rests in the great hall, my lord," elaborated Esendri.

"Keep him there, especially when he awakes. Tie him up if you have to!" Thranduil commanded. "I cannot afford to have him, or you, for that matter, go out there and risk your lives! If anything, there is the quest to consider!"

"We can fight, my lord!" Elrohir exclaimed.

The king of the Silvan Elves shot him a venomous glare so reminiscent of Elrond in a black mood that Elrohir held his tongue.

"Do as I say: Legolas needs you!"

Elrohir and Esendri nodded vigorously and took their leave, working their way amidst the blaring of horns back to the great hall, which they found to be filling up.

"We were sent by the king to watch over Legolas," Esendri said, as Nearil came over, ready to chase them away.

"Rest assured that he will get nowhere in this state. What I need is for you to help with the injured, as we are short on healers. Do you know anything about healing, Master Elrohir?" he asked, not bothering to ask Esendri, whom he knew was far better at inflicting injury than healing.

"My father has taught me a thing or two."

"Very well, come with me. Esendri, go to the palace gates and help to direct the flow of the injured, Linriel will be in charge!"

The servant obeyed, although not without throwing an envious look in Elrohir's direction. So this was how it ended, him being naught but a shepherd, while the rest of them went to battle. He ground his teeth in frustration, and made his way to the entrance.

"Linriel, I was sent here to help!" he called to the graceful lady who standing at the entrance to the palace, speaking quietly with the bearers of an injured soldier. She turned over and beckoned for him to go over, which he did, with some misgivings.

"Listen carefully, Esendri. The great hall is starting to fill, and is already more than a quarter at capacity. If the fighting persists, we will need to sort out the wounded as they are brought to us. Those whose wounds are mortal and those who do not require attention so urgently need to be placed in the Great Court, while the rest are to be sent straight to the Hall."

Esendri blanched at her words. "Then we condemn them to death!"

"This is a battle, Esendri! We need only to hold out till dawn ere the Orcs retreat, and that is a full five hours from now. I shall leave you hereon your own. I am needed in the Hall."

Leaving him with little choice, she squeezed his arm before disappearing back toward the palace. He had only time to turn when two heavily bleeding Elves were brought to him. Then, the ugliness of war hit him, as he beheld the huge wounds all over one warrior, and the severed right foot of the other.

"Take them to the great hall!" he commanded, voice unnaturally high. All this while, fighting had been something that he and his friends had done, even revelled in. Now he saw how lucky they had been to escape relatively unscathed each time around. Sure, he and Legolas had suffered more than their fair share of injuries, but to them, it had always been more of a game than something real.

And so he worked, examining each warrior brought to him in turn, often Elves he knew by face or name, before making the heart-wrenching decision of whether to send them to the healers, knowing very well that it could easily have been him being brought back to the palace, barely alive, with a huge hole in his side, or with a dagger lodged in the back of his head. Some of those brought to him were barely breathing, but he still tried his best to offer them a chance. It was too soon before word was sent from the halls. The healers were being flooded with too many new injuries, and that he had to send more of those who were severely injured to die in the court.

Hours passed this way, and eventually, the first rays of sun broke through the trees, drawing a smile from his blood-stained face. The bloodshed would stop for the day at least, for Orcs sought shelter under the light of Anor. Even so, Esendri held onto his position for a full hour, awaiting the return of the warriors that from the battle.

"Esendri!" Nardor, a member of the Home Guard approached him, his arm in a sling and a bandage slung across his face, covering his right eye. "Nearil seeks your presence; I shall relieve you!"

"Did he say why?" A sinking feeling overtook Esendri, and he prepared himself for the worst. Nardor shook his head, his good eye revealing his pain and exhaustion.

"Will you be able to hold it here?" asked Esendri, only to receive a gruff affirmation.

Making his way back to the hall, passing through the court, Esendri tried his best not to let emotion overcome him as he saw those he had condemned to death, all of them good warriors who had fought hard for their home. Already, he could seen that some of the Elves had been covered by sheets.

He entered the great hall. A grim silence hung over the place, and the air was saturated with blood and sweat. An occasional groan or moan pierced the air, and healers hurried about, white robes stained red with blood. The servant could not bring himself to look further, and instead started searching for the chief healer.

He found Nearil, and was made to wait as he attended to the stump that had been an arm of an unconscious warrior. When that was done, the chief healer indicated the Esendri follow him out of the hall.

"Legolas came to briefly, but was too confused to say anything. He has since been moved to the king's chambers. There is no cause for alarm, so do not fret. I need your help in the court. Make the dying as comfortable as possible, but do not hope for them, as to do so would be in vain. Visit Legolas if you wish, but make it hasty!"

Watching the chief healer turn back and re-enter the hall, Esendri was filled with a emotion he could not quite place. Still, he mechanically made his way to Thranduil's private chambers, where he was let in by two members of the Home Guard.

Entering, he walked up to the bed, and gently pushed aside the silk curtains that shielded the prince from the rest of the world. Legolas had been cleaned up, the slashes across his face had been dressed and were already starting to heal. Still, Legolas slumbered, eyes shut, the only sign of trouble being the perspiration on his brow and the hotness of his forehead.

Esendri did not linger, and instead squeezed Legolas's hand gently and breathed a few words of comfort before he silently exited the bedchamber. In doing so, he ran straight on into the king, who was just about to enter.

"Your Majesty."

"Do not worry, Esendri. Come sit with me as I see my son."

"How goes the situation, my Lord?"

"There should be time enough to recover and regroup for the attack that will undoubtedly take place tonight. How is Legolas?"

Esendri gave a brief re-cap of the circumstances in which they had come across the prince and his subsequent progress.

"It is strange indeed, for we too heard the screeching," Thranduil said, as he gently stroked the burning cheeks of his son.

A sharp knock on the door was answered by Esendri, and a breathless Felnor came in.

"My Lord, your urgent attention is required!"

Thranduil stood up quickly, and threw a last, fond glance at his son before he left.

Left to his own devices, Esendri decided to head to the courtyard as instructed by the healer. Once there, he started working with wild abandon, rushing around, bringing water to the thirsty, speaking with the dying, doing anything to alleviate their suffering.

Minutes passed this way, before he realised that the latest casualty being brought in was somebody he knew.

"Caeriel!" he shouted, rushing to where she was being laid down, abandoning the warrior he had been attending to. He saw that she was completely still, and a trickle of foam ran down from her lips. Her breathing was so light that it came and went.

"She is still alive!" Esendri pushed the Elves that bore her aside. "Bring her to the healers! She is the betrothed of your crown prince!"

Esendri picked up one end of the make-shift stretcher, and forced them to bring her into the Hall.

"Nearil! Caeriel was brought into the court! You must save her!" he cried for the healer, who rushed over and examined Caeriel, before the shaking Esendri was taken aside.

It was then that he noted that Gallenon was lying at his feet, and he crouched down to examine the human.

"Do not fear, it is but a few cuts that will heal in no time." The human was conscious, though in much pain.

"I am sorry, you need not have fought, it was our battle," Esendri said, examining the mortal's wounds, and breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Nay, Esendri, Orcs are foul creatures, and we would not have stood and watched them overrun your home! I fear the situation is bad for Greenwood. We had thought the battle over once the sun rose, but we were attacked by a host of giant spiders. I tried to save Caeriel, but lost sight of her after I was struck on the head and passed out!"

The young Elf thanked him for his information, and quickly rushed to the healers working on Caeriel, before he was dismissed and told to return to the dying. He followed the orders, his mind now numb with shock and sick with worry.

On his way back, he heard loud blasts of the horns of Eryn Galen, rallying all remaining to the assembly area behind the palace gates.

"Esendri! This way!" Felnor called as he sped past. "Take up your arms! King Thranduil is to go into battle with us!"

The chance to go into battle was a sweet one, and Esendri quickly changed courses and picked up a bow and a pair of knives from the armoury. Once the palace gates loomed into view, he saw that about two hundred had gathered behind the gates, and that Thranduil was speaking to them.

"Today, Eryn Galen's future lies in our hands. The enemy is strong, but with iron will and resolve, we will be able to take back what is ours!"

A disciplined silence greeted his words, and Esendri saw that those who had been left behind to guard the palace, and those who had brought the injured back to the palace and stayed on to help. Each one of them brought on extra weapons for those who still embroiled in the fight, and every Elf was carrying at least three quivers filled with arrows.

"Esendri!" cried Felnor, indicating he move to the front.

"You are no trained soldier, but we need all we can in this fight. Stay close to me!" the leader of the Home Guard said. "The spiders are breaking through the defences to the north, and a call for reinforcements was made an hour ago. There are reports that the spiders have a deadly venom, and that their weakest spots are their eyes and undersides."

"Felnor!" Thranduil called, causing the captain to turn away from Esendri. It was then that Esendri realised that Elrohir was among the ranks, as was Allanor. He acknowledged their presence before turning his attention back to where Thranduil was issuing a few last orders to his captain.

"For Eryn Galen!" cried the king, and he started off in a quick sprint through the trees. Esendri kept to Felnor's side, heart thumping wildly. It was to be his first battle. So, this was what it felt like, to be fighting for your home.

A glance to his right revealed the Elrohir had pulled up beside him, and he risked a small smile at the peredhel. There was only hardness and determination in those argent, gentle eyes, and the transformation was remarkable. Esendri tightened his grip around his bow and concentrated hard on the path before him.

The sounds of a battle soon reached their ears, and in minutes, the king led his people straight into battle. Esendri saw then just how enormous the spiders were, for they were five feet across, and there were thousands of them. Bodies of his kindred lay scattered amongst those of the black creatures and Orcs, causing the bile in his throat to rise. He rushed straight at the nearest one, and fired an arrow straight into its underside, saving the hapless Elf it was about to pounce on. The creature rolled away with screams of agony. Esendri reached over and helped the Elf up, and was off, taking down the next one in his path. A manic strength seized him, and he hewed away at the foul arachnids as if possessed, the earlier horrors he had seen during the day lending him strength.

And so on the battle raged for close to two hours, the reinforcements lending new strength and courage to the worn-out warriors who had been fighting for close to ten hours. The spiders were beaten back, slowly but surely.

Just as it seemed as if the tide had finally turned, and the last spiders dispatched, the sounds of a thousand snarling creatures filled the air.

"Wargs! Reform your lines!" Thranduil cried, and there was a quick scramble to do as their king commanded. "Archers, your positions!"

Esendri picked up a fresh set of arrows that had fallen to the ground, and leapt into the trees, a short distance behind where the line was being formed and notched his arrow, keeping his eye trained on the ground, waiting for the Wargs to make their appearance. Just when it seemed as if they were about to attack, a sudden blast of the horn indicated that the warriors retreat. Confusion filled the air, and the Elves cast about in puzzlement.

"Fall back!" Thranduil cried. "There are too many of them! Bring the injured with you! Form a line in the rear and retreat!"

Felnor leapt into the trees and dragged Esendri down to the ground. "Have you not heard the orders!" he cried, and shoved him off among the retreating Elves.

Running among the confusion, Esendri was too tired to even think as they reached the palace, where chaos reigned. Scores of injured and dying lay scattered about the palace grounds. Warriors had simply collapsed in motionless piles, their eyes wide and haunted. Esendri too, fell to his knees in front of the steps to the palace, and there he keeled over in exhaustion, only to be joined by Elrohir and his twin. Both were tired and breathing hard, and Elladan had sustained a large gash to his forehead.

Glorfindel rushed past in a moment, carrying one of the fallen, calling out for Elladan to get his wound dressed. The trio struggled to their feet and staggered into the palace and the bedlam within. The halls were overflowing, and the injured were being treated in various bedchambers, making it impossible to locate anyone. It was not long before they were given instructions to report to the king's bedchambers, which they did.

Once there, the Elves were greeted by Felnor.

"His Majesty has given the order for the evacuation of the wounded to the caves. The Wargs have yet to attack, but we do not know how much time we have. The caves are but an hour east of us.. You are to deliver His Highness there safely."

All three looked at each other in dismay.

"What of the fate of Eryn Galen?" Esendri managed to ask.

"We will not be able to hold back the onslaught. Our dwellings were not built to withstand a direct assault. While our people are of strong heart, our only hope of survival lies within the caves in the mountains. There are adequate supplies in the caves, and much has been moved there in secret in the past weeks. Do not attempt to deviate from the path. Take the horses; they have been prepared by the grooms! Once there, stay put, and by no means are you to leave! Now go!"

Elrohir strode over to the bed and picked Legolas up. The other two flanked him, and the small group made its way out of the chambers to the stables.

Once within, the Elves leapt deftly onto the horses, Elrohir taking Nardawin. He cradled the still unconscious Legolas to his chest, and moved off quickly, and was followed closely by the other two.

The young ones managed the hour long trip without incident, and the twins exchanged glances as they noted the well-hidden scouts lining the route, ready to set off the alarm should the path come under attack.

As they reached the entrance to the great caves, the young ones saw just how much planning had been done, for they had to pass through five levels of defence before they finally piled into the cave. Once within, the twins marvelled at how well built and large the place was. They were greeted by sentries, and were quickly shown the way down a labyrinth of tunnels before reaching a big room. Elrohir gently set his friend down on the rugs.

Elladan noticed immediately how tense Esendri was.

"Esendri?" he asked, sitting down beside him while Elrohir followed the sentries in search of food and drink.

A small smile was thrown in his direction as the grey eyes darted around the cavern one more time.

"What ails you, my friend?"

"It is nothing. I just do not find caves the nicest places to be in - it is so devoid of life!"

The raven-haired Elf clucked sympathetically, and answered, "Indeed, I do not like it any more than you do, but in times like this, there is nought we can do but seek refuge from the storm that wages outside."

"What I do not like is us hiding here while the rest risk their lives out there!" Elrohir said as he entered, arms full of silk cushions, fruit, and bread.

"Have a drink, you look parched!" Elrohir threw a water-skin at Esendri, who shifted closer to Legolas and made to feed it to him.

"Nay, Esendri, I shall see to Legolas. Worry about yourself first!" Elrohir interrupted. He did not wait for the servant to protest, and instead raised the torso of the Elven prince and propped the unconscious Elf up against himself, before easing a few drops of water down Legolas's throat.

Legolas spluttered briefly. Elrohir beamed at the other two, and was delivered more water to the Elven prince. This time there was a response, and Legolas drank in greedily. Once he had enough, his eyes opened and came into focus.

"Elrohir?" he croaked, and Esendri was over by his side in a second.

"Legolas, how feel you?"

"Hot; and my head hurts!"

Elladan laughed out loud.

"Somehow that does not surprise me, with the amount you had to drink last night!" His comments drew black looks from both Esendri and Elrohir.

"What happened, where are we?" Legolas demanded.

"We found you unconscious at the feast site after the Orc attack," Elrohir said, hoping that by giving the most direct answer, Legolas not ask any further.

There was no such chance of that as the Elven prince again demanded to know where they were.

"The caves, do you remember them, Legolas?" Esendri answered after much deliberation.

"Why are we here? Where is Father?"

Elrohir drew in a deep breath, and gave a brief explanation of the situation.

"So Eryn Galen is indeed overrun." Legolas's was ashen, but he did not jump to his feet and demand to be let back into battle.

"The injured will be arriving soon. Our help would be required once they are brought to us."

It was then that it occurred to Esendri why Legolas was trembling.

"Does a walk outside sound good to you?" he offered.

"No thank you, Esendri, there is nothing wrong with staying in here."

Elrohir picked up the apprehension in his voice, and tightened his hand around the lithe shoulder.

"Please, Legolas, there is no need for us to stay in here any longer than we should. May I remind you that you were not reduced to a quivering heap, cowering in the darkness, the last time you were in here!" Esendri tried to lighten the atmosphere further.

The remark drew a laugh from Legolas.

"If I recall correctly, that was because someone else was in a state of blind panic, raising the dead with his screams and cries!"

"At least your father has instructed for this place to be filled with vegetation!" Esendri said, drawing the attention of the twins to the vines and vegetation that grew on the cold, rocky walls, and the tapestries and curtains that decorated the room.

Their conversation was interrupted by one of the sentries, entering to announce the arrival of the first group of injured Elves. His face lit up like the morning sun when he saw Legolas awake, and had to be stopped from fawning over his prince.

"I suppose that is our cue to start helping!" Elladan said, rising to his feet and dusting off crumbs of bread from his tunic.

"I can help!" Legolas proffered before they could tell him to rest.

Doubtful glances were cast at him, but the glint in his eyes settled the matter. He jumped up and dashed out of the room. ***

It was a despondent Thranduil that reached the caves just as the last rays of the sun vanished into the west.

"Curon does not shine tonight, the night is black indeed," he said while dismounting from his steed with the last survivors.

"Thinna elenath, nîn gur naergon sen amarth." His son stepped out from within the shadows, the beautiful eyes hooded.

"Legolas!" Thranduil stepped forward and embraced the prince, a weight lifted from his heart.

"Father, what is the situation?" The calm face and the polite tone of the Elven prince seemed to lend Thranduil some strength.

"The last defences have fallen. We were overrun by the Wargs, and Orcs will re-emerge once Anor has set. I fear we do not have the strength to take back what was ours. We need the time to regroup, and for the injured to recover."

The twitch on the face of Legolas was the only emotion he allowed himself to show. Thranduil waited patiently for him to speak.

"I hate them."

His father was startled by the forcefulness of the words, and the loathing in his voice. The king did not speak as Legolas started trembling like a leaf in the wind. He reached out and scooped his younger son into his arms, making calming noises, and taking him aside from where they would have some privacy.

"Caeriel lies poisoned by the spiders. They do not know if she will make it. "

The monarch closed his eyes and looked away, as his own memories of how he had watched his wife be consumed by her injuries and leave him forever. It seemed only yesterday that her fair hands were kneading his weary shoulders, working away the strains of a day's riding.

"I could do nothing as Eryn Galen was overrun, only to hide in a cave!" Legolas was almost shouting.

"You must understand, ion-nîn, that there is another path for you."

"But Eryn Galen is my home!"

"As is Middle-Earth. I have spoken to Glorfindel, and you are to leave in the morn. Hopefully the Orcs will be too busy with their plunder to notice your company departing. It is essential you leave for the north as quickly as time will allow it.

"My lord," Glorfindel called from a distance. "Your urgent attention is required."

Thranduil planted a kiss on the forehead of his son before leaving.

Glorfindel walked up to where Legolas was still standing.

"I have examined Caeriel. She will survive," Glorfindel said. When he received nothing more than a polite nod, he decided to press on.

"Look at me, Legolas," he commanded, voice powerful and compelling, and the Elven prince found himself obeying.

"Hatred is not the answer. Elrohir told me everything. Even the trees were not spared. They lie dead, as does everything within a half-mile radius of the feast grounds."

"I could not stop myself."

"Then do not start it, Legolas. I know it is difficult. You might not realise this, but that was only a small display of your true powers. I do not wish you to use them so lightly again. Have all your lessons with your ada and I been for nought?"

Legolas did not answer, guilt rising in him.

"Your mother's death would have been in vain if you continue down this path. She died with the dream of you growing up in a world that she loved so. It is why we have to destroy the gem, for her, for the free peoples of Middle-Earth.

"I want you to promise me, on your mother's name, that you will not use your magic again until you have learnt to control it properly. It is something that I cannot risk. The journey ahead will be trying enough without you giving away our whereabouts. All of us felt it last night, and Esendri was almost killed by it. The next time you feel the temptation to wield it, remember that he will die should you unleash its full power."

The tears that came were held back forcefully, and the Elven prince stuck out his chin, before agreeing to what the other sought.

"Tomorrow, we journey to the north."

*****

Sindarin Translations:
Curon - moon
Thinna elenath, nîn gur naergon sen amarth - Stars fade, my heart laments this fate
Anor - sun
Ion-nîn - my son

Author's Note: Just the one more epilogue left before I wrap this story up! Thanks everybody for reading, and please leave me a note on how you've found it, and whether you think it's worth continuing (expecting resounding 'yes'es here).

The young one moved soundlessly within the trees, eyes surveying the scene below. What he saw chilled his heart. Hordes of Orcs had taken up residence among the trees. The beeches were weeping under their hated touch and cruel axes. The Orcs were hacking at the walls of the palace grounds, trying to grab as much of the precious metal as possible.

He pushed back the bile in his throat and carried on. The number of Orcs started to thin, and gave way to nothingness, as he dropped down in front of what had been his former home, greeted by the charred remnants.

Stepping forward tentatively, he closed his eyes as the sight became too much for him. An image of lush greenery and beauty took over, and he fell to his knees in front of what had once been a paradise for him. It was then, when he finally summoned enough courage to open his eyes and face his loss, when he saw a glimpse of something, and he rushed forward to push aside the debris.

Inching out the precious thing from beneath the fallen and burnt branches, he was amazed to see that it had escaped unscathed. Even the slight charring of the wood could be easily rubbed off with a cloth. He fingered the intricate carvings on it. How could it have survived when everything around it had tumbled and succumbed to the hated creatures? He tested the bow, gently at first, before placing his full strength behind it and drawing the string, smiling amidst his tears at the power that still remained.

It was then that he noticed a figure cloaked in black, head hidden under a hood, watching him from a distance. Immediately, he rose and assumed a defensive stance.

Ten minutes passed this way, and there was still no movement.

"You hate them, do you not?" The one hidden within the cloak finally spoke, and he took a few steps nearer to the figure.

"For how they have razed your home. For how they have killed your people."

He could not bring himself to answer the question, and instead held his gaze, straining his eyes, trying to work out just what was hidden beneath the hood.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The black cloak shifted as a small laugh escaped the one's throat.

"I am nobody, a recluse, one shunned by your people ages ago."

The young one was silent.

"Hate can help you survive at times when all else fails. The promise of vengeance can sometimes see you through."

"Daro!" he shouted, placing both hands over his ears.

"Remember that, my friend. Remember that when you cry." The last words of the mysterious figure rang in his ears as he leapt into the trees and made his escape.

Once he had left, the one in the cloak turned to face another who had been hiding behind the burnt out trunk of a tree.

"I shall accompany you on your journey to the north."

*****

A/N: Phew, that was it! I've finally finished this epic fic! Hope that was a good cliff-hanger to keep you at the edge of your seats. That took me about 2 whole years just to write! I will, of course, be continuing it in the promised trilogy, but I think I should be taking a good (and well deserved) break first. I'll email people if they want me to inform them of the new story being put up, or just keep an eye on my profile. Remember, reviews are always a good idea when it comes to getting me out of my break from writing! ;) Keep your eyes peeled for part II of the Shadow trilogy (working title: Northern Flames)!