Disclaimer: Everything associated with Lord of the Rings (ie Legolas, Thranduil, Mirkwood, etc) belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I’m not making any money off this story, so please don’t sue me. I’m just a poor college student!

Title: Oh The Places We’ll Go!

Authors: Jocelyn (with considerable contributions by my sister Navaeh)

Rating: G

Summary: So how did the youngest prince of Mirkwood keep himself amused as a child? By getting together with the three most troublesome, mischievous, and adventurous elflings in all Mirkwood. Here is the first installment of their exploits!

A/N: This is a companion piece to my long fic, “A Little Nudge Out of the Door,” but that story is not required reading. However, if you like this, please feel free to give “Nudge” a peek. No romance or anything weird like that. This is just a light-hearted childhood story, meant to be cute, but not obnoxious. This is my first attempt at LOTR humor, so PLEASE review and let me know what you think!

* Denotes unspoken thought

Chapter One: Spiders and Sticks

It began with the forging of a great…spider. Or perhaps a great prank. But as childhood pranks are wont to do, this one evolved rapidly from mischief into the adventure of a lifetime. Or at least a lifetime up until that point.

The four friends for whom this adventure unfolded were all in their first century--still well within their childhood years by elven standards. They had been inseparable since they first began to walk, and like all childhood friends, their propensity to get into trouble together was legendary. Looking after them was a cause of constant hassle to all of their parents--particularly when the parents of one of them happened to be the king and queen of Mirkwood.

The eldest of the troublesome quartet was Candrochon, son of Anunborn, the king’s second Steward. A tall, sturdy twenty-nine-year-old (the elven equivalent of a human ten-year-old), he was already gaining a reputation as one of the future warriors of Mirkwood. His golden-brown hair was darkening to the characteristic chestnut color of Northern elves, and his dark brown eyes had that rather sly twinkle that put many a tutor and master on their guard against him. He was very quick at executing pranks--whether equally capable of getting away with them was less certain.

Next in the group was Merilin, daughter of Heledir, one of the Lords of Mirkwood. After the ruling family of King Thranduil, hers was one of the highest-ranking. Being often in the castle, the auburn-headed, green-eyed sprite of a she-elf child was a natural playmate of Candrochon’s and the youngest of the royal children. She was tall for her age, and strong and fit enough to hold her own in races and games among any of her peers--to the frequent dismay of the boys she matched.

After Merilin came Tathar, son of the royal tutor, Alagos. Though not as highly ranked as his three playmates, he studied with them, and his greater freedom (and impetuousness) drew the elf lords’ children to him. This he exploited to great advantage, and was the driving force behind many an elaborate prank. He was also particularly good at evading discovery--not to mention that he could always lay the blame upon Candrochon. The black-haired, brown-eyed twenty-four-year-old had a merry, impish nature that led early on to a very close friendship with the last member of the little band.

The youngest of the group was Legolas, the youngest son of Thranduil and Minuial, prince of Mirkwood. His elder brothers and sisters were all separated from him by centuries at least, and although he was on affectionate terms with them all, Legolas was forced to search outside his family for friends near his own age. Within the confines of the elven king’s palace, he soon fell in with Candrochon, Tathar, and Merilin, and by his second decade, the young prince was rarely seen without the company of at least one of them. Usually, if one was missing from the group, it was that unlucky member who would soon become the object of the latest prank.

On this particular day, a sunny summer afternoon shortly after Legolas turned twenty-two (the elven equivalent of a human eight-year-old), guards, stewards, and other elves in King Thranduil’s palace were instantly put on their guard to see Legolas, Merilin, and Candrochon scampering about the halls together--without Tathar. But every elf in the palace knew better than to question the trio, for they would have thought up an alibi for their suspicious activity far in advance. Elf children possess an intelligence and resourcefulness beyond that of men--in every way, including, unfortunately, mischief. Golwen, the royal children’s nanny, was searching for Legolas somewhere in one of the tree-towers of the palace.

But the three pranksters were in fact on their way to the outermost part of the palace, in search of an unwitting ally for today’s stunt. They found him in the craftsmen’s halls close to the northeastern gate of the outer palace. He was Alagion, son of Langcyll. Unlike his father, who was a captain among the warriors of Mirkwood, Alagion had chosen to become an artisan, and was one of the finest wood craftsmen in all Middle Earth. He did a great deal of carving work for King Thranduil, and during his time at the palace, had become a friend of the littlest prince.

He was working at one of his benches when Legolas, Merilin, and Candrochon came visiting. “Well, hello there, young ones,” Alagion said, bowing. “What brings you out here?”

Merilin and Candrochon began giggling immediately, and Legolas said innocently, “We want you to make something for us!”

“Make something?” The way they were grinning immediately raised the older elf’s hackles, for such smiles always signaled trouble. Still…they had an irritating way of being too cute to refuse. “What do you wish me to make?”

There came the giggles again. “It’s, ah, it’s just a little…ornament. Just a little something we need you to carve,” said the prince.

Alagion put down his carving knife and raised his eyebrows curiously. “Well, I can hardly carve something if I do not know what it is, young prince. You shall have to be more specific than that.”

They exchanged glances. “Can you carve…a spider?”

The artisan blinked at them. “A spider? Whyever would you want an ornament like that?”

“No reason!” Candrochon said quickly, his eyes wide with innocence.

“Indeed?” Alagion replied incredulously. He smiled, having known all three of them since before they could talk. “I suppose you wish it to be…lifelike?”

Legolas nodded eagerly, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. He was the only one of Thranduil and Minuial’s children to inherit their golden hair--all of his siblings were dark. His face was very much his mother’s; Queen Minuial hailed from Lothlorien, and had passed many features on to her youngest son. All except the eyes; instead of his mother’s pale blue-gray Lorien eyes, Legolas had his father’s dark gray eyes. Such eyes made King Thranduil’s face seem especially intense, but in Legolas, they seemed to add to his innocence. And such an angelic face came in very handy when the young prince was up to no good.

Alagion was a sensible elf, and responsible with his craft, but he was also young enough to remember fondly the days of preadolescent pranks among his own friends. So, as long as these wee elves were not doing anything dangerous, he did not mind being party to their tricks. Judging by their commission of a lifelike spider, it sounded like a fairly harmless little scare for one of their playmates.

*The victim will be poor young Tathar, I imagine,* he thought as he quickly brought out a small piece of scrap wood and put his skill to work. Within a few minutes, a suitably wicked-looking brown spider was handed to Legolas. “I would suggest putting it on the edge of a pillow, my little friends,” Alagion said in a conspiratorial fashion. “That way it will slide down when the pillow moves and appear to be crawling.”

The delighted grins that passed between the elflings suggested that they would take him up on his suggestion. “Thank you, Master Alagion!” Candrochon said happily. “You are the finest!”

***

The following morning…

The summer morning sun turned the dew upon the green leaves of the forest into a dust of gold, until the great trees seemed to be crowned with emerald gems. Most of the denizens of the elven king’s halls were up and about already, particularly the nobility and their Stewards (and, consequently, their children.) However, since today was not a schooling day, the presence of the palace tutor was not required in the morning. As a result, both he and his son were still abed when his son’s friends came calling--with their little “ornament.”

“Shhh!” (Giggle!) “You’ll wake him, Candrochon!”

“Where’s Legolas?”

“Putting the spider on his pillow, you clunk-headed jibwick! Now hush before Alagos hears us!”

A moment later, a giggling Legolas joined Candrochon and Merilin just outside Tathar’s bedroom window in their tutor’s quarters in the outer palace. “Serves him right for always getting to sleep so late. My mother always has me up bright and early, so she says!”

“That’s because you’re a prince!”

“You say that like it’s a good thing; nobody lets me do ANYTHING!”

“Shh, listen!” Merilin poked the two boys and nodded to the window.

They could hear the door to Tathar’s bedroom opening, and his father Alagos speaking. “Time to get up, Tathar.”

“Mmph, go ‘way.”

“Tathar, do not make me come in there.”

There were some choice grumbles that sounded like they were muffled in a pillow. Merilin put a hand over her mouth. “This will be good!” she hissed at the others, who stifled their giggles.

They heard shuffling from the bed. “You always make me get up so earl--EEEEYYYAAAAAHGGGG!!!”

Gasping and giggling, Legolas, Candrochon, and Merilin hugged each other, nearly losing their balance with laughter. “I think he found it!” giggled Candrochon.

“AAAAHHHH!! FATHER!!!”

“Tathar! Tathar! What is it!”

(Gasp! Whimper!) “There’s--a--spider!”

“Where…this?”

“What…”

Legolas had tears streaming down his face and both hands over his mouth to keep down the shrieks of laughter. Candrochon had his face buried in Merilin’s shoulder. All three were laughing so hard they could hardly breathe. Merilin managed to ask them, “How long do you think it will take him--”

“A FAKE spider--ALL RIGHT, WHERE ARE THEY?!?!”

“Not long!” declared Legolas, as the window flew open above their heads.

An outraged, black-haired head poked out, followed closely by a vigorously shaking fist. “Garryyygh! Just wait! Just wait! I’ll GET you!!”

“Ah-ah!” Someone unseen by the others hauled Tathar back in. “Not out the window, my impetuous elfling. If you wish to exact bloody revenge, you will still take the civilized route through the door!”

“DON’T GO ANYWHERE! I’M COMING!!” roared Tathar, and the sound of sprinting feet could clearly be heard.

“And keep the entrails outside!” Alagos was heard calling after him. Then Tathar’s father stuck his own head out the window. “Were I you, I would be running for my life now, little ones.”

“Your wisdom is known far and wide, Master Alagos!” Merilin shouted over her shoulder as she, Candrochon, and Legolas took off.

Tathar might have been the smallest of the foursome, but he made up for it with ferocity. And now, the entire outer palace was alerted to the carnage about to take place as the door of Alagos’s dwelling burst open, and a vengeance-screeching elfling came tearing out in search of his victims. “Go, go, go!” squealed Legolas as they pelted back into the main part of the palace, hoping to lose the infuriated Tathar in the winding corridors.

***

Princess Limloeth, second child of King Thranduil and Queen Minuial, was in conversation with Langcyll, one of the warrior captains in one of the palace halls when the elves there heard a tremendous commotion coming down the corridor. They looked up to see her youngest brother, Prince Legolas, young Lady Merilin, and Candrochon, sprinting into the room as if all the hounds of Sauron were after them. Langcyll moved to give the youngsters a wide berth, but Limloeth laughingly intercepted them. “Easy now, little ones! What is the rush?”

Legolas stumbled to a halt, Merilin and Candrochon bumping into him from behind. His clothes rumpled and golden hair disheveled, Legolas was out of breath--and giggling hysterically. “We…we…we have to run!”

Limloeth folded her arms. “Oh? And why--” just then, what sounded like a herd of oliphaunts came echoing down the hall. “Ah. You’ve been playing pranks on Tathar again.”

“LEGOLAS!!!”

“Carry on,” she said with a smile, stepping aside.

The three sprinted for their lives, heading for the opposite door. And not a moment too soon, for a moment later, a small, black-haired elfling came tearing into the hall with a fury that might startle an orc into pausing. Tathar paid no heed to the other elves in the room, merely ripped through them in his quest for vengeance. “Outta my way!” he shoved past one of the Stewards. “Outta my way!” he flew between Limloeth and one of the servants. Then he nearly plowed into Langcyll. “Outta my--oops, outta your way.” He pivoted around Langcyll and dashed on, racing through the door like a dark-haired tornado.

Langcyll, Limloeth, and the other elves in the room simply watched, then as the door swung gently closed in the wake of the chaotic passage, smiled at each other and resumed their conversations. This sort of thing happened at least twice a day.

***

The court of the elven king and queen was quiet that morning, for the realm was enjoying a peaceful summer. There was little business save a few petitions from the elves of Mirkwood, which they dealt with in the throne room of the outer palace. It was the largest of the outer halls, built above the ground upon sturdy tree limbs, its windows open wide to let in the sun that made the marble overlay of the floors and walls gleam white. The thrones were chairs of carven wood, and there sat Thranduil and Minuial throughout the day, giving audiences to their people.

They were wise rulers, and much revered. Thranduil, son of Oropher, looked every inch the elven king, and very much a son of Mirkwood. He was tall, imposing, and sturdily-built for an elf. His eyes were dark gray, nearly black, and the tone of his skin bespoke much time spent out of doors. Most of his physical features were typical of the wood elves, save one. Thranduil had inherited the rare trait of golden hair from the Lothlorien blood that flowed from his father’s line. Most elves bred in Mirkwood were dark.

Queen Minuial, on the other hand, was a full-blooded Galadhrim, and she looked it. Her flaxen hair was long, full, and beautiful, and her skin much paler than that of a wood elf. Her eyes were blue, a very pale, delicate gray-blue. Unlike Thranduil, who was as commanding, authoritative, (and sometimes unmovable) as a giant oak, Minuial was gentle and graceful, preferring to rule by understanding and evenhandedness, rather than simple control. It was said that the King and Queen of Mirkwood loved each other just as greatly as they had when they first pledged their troth, and between the two of them, they could accomplish nearly anything. It seemed impossible to imagine one without the support and counsel of the other.

Not to say that they never disagreed.

“We have argued this before, husband,” said the queen. “I am determined. It is in the best interests of our realm and others.”

The elven king sighed, shaking his head. “While such a mission may be a high-minded proposal, I do not think you should be the one to go. It is dangerous.”

“Of course it is. Diplomacy is always dangerous,” Minuial’s eyes twinkled, but her words were serious. “My presence there will be the best proof of our sincerity, save your own presence. But you do not trust them, and they do not trust you.”

“At least we agree on that much,” Thranduil said, earning a disapproving look from his wife.

“In any case, you can hardly withdraw your consent now. We leave this evening for Moria.”

“As you will, my lady,” the elven king smiled affectionately. Trying to dissuade her had been a lost cause, and he had known it even as he attempted it.

All at once, there was a great racket outside the throne room. Pounding feet and shrieks of laughter and outrage could be heard approaching the audience hall. The elves in the room glanced around curiously, and Thranduil and Minuial exchanged a faint smile. The king rose. “Open the doors.” The guards did so, and they all beheld a small herd of elflings sprinting frantically down the corridor. The three small mischief-makers and their infuriated pursuer clearly intended to merely bypass the throne room and continue their stampede through the outer palace, but Thranduil waited until they were just passing the open doors, and (after giving the barest little grin to his wife) bellowed, “WHAT is the meaning of this?!”

At the front of the group, the Steward’s son Candrochon literally skidded to a stop, and was immediately run into by Lady Narmeril’s daughter Merilin, and the king’s own son, Legolas. No sooner had the three turned to fearfully face the king and queen than Tathar slammed into them, knocking the entire group to the ground. From the resulting pile of arms and legs, a blonde head suddenly poked out, staring at his father with wide dark eyes. “Ooh--ahh--Father, I can explain--”

“--Right yourselves first, all of you,” Thranduil said. The elflings hastily untangled themselves from each other and stood in the doorway, looking fearfully into the throne room. The elven king gestured imperiously at them to enter. “Now, what, may I ask, is going on here?” The foursome exchanged glances. “Well?”

With a little gulp, Tathar mustered his courage and pointed at the other three, “They put a spider in my bed, sir!”

Behind the children, the king distinctly saw both his herald clap two hands over his mouth to keep from erupting into laughter. Minuial made a small sound that suggested she too was struggling to contain her amusement. It really was so difficult to discipline these four when they always managed to be so funny! Thranduil cleared his throat to hide his own laughter, then said sternly, “I see. And now you are seeking revenge, young son of Alagos?”

“I…”

Thranduil folded his arms. “Stampeding through the palace is hardly the behavior of a prince, a lady, or the sons of respectable elves. You may play all you wish, but I expect the four of you to conduct yourselves properly from now on. Is that clear?”

Four little heads bobbed in terrified unison, then hung sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Father,” said Legolas in such a contrite little voice that Thranduil nearly lost his composure.

“Very well. We shall let this incident go. But I promise you,” he raised a hand sharply before they could look too relieved, “next time I’ll not be so lenient. Now be off with you.” The children fled. “Close the doors again,” he ordered the guards.

No sooner had the doors clicked shut than musical laughter burst out behind him. Thranduil turned and faced his wife in mock-disapproval, as she stood where she was and expressed her intense amusement at the whole incident. “If I did not know better, my lord, I would say you enjoy that!”

Soft chuckles came from the other elves in the room. “Really, my lady, how do you expect me to discipline our youngest son if you continuously giggle in the background?” the elven king said.

She smiled and sat back down on her throne. “You do not fool me, my dear. I have seen your laughter many a time when you are attempting to correct our erring children. And I have NEVER laughed in front of them during such times!”

Thranduil shook his head. “It takes considerable effort not to. One day I am going to injure myself.” Minuial laughed even harder.

***

Having overcome the terror of being censured by the elven king, the four hooligans in question had decided that the fake spider was really quite a piece of work, and were now heading back toward Master Alagion’s workshop to see what other wonders he was creating. “I think I shall hang the spider from my window,” said Tathar, examining it as they skipped back down the corridors of the outer palace.

“That would keep Thorod and those goblin friends of his from sneaking in to play tricks,” remarked Legolas, skipping along next to Merilin.

“And it would stop you from getting in too,” Tathar added, making what the grown-ups called “mad eyebrows” at Legolas.

“Wouldn’t stop me, I come through the door,” Candrochon declared.

“And even if we didn’t, we know it’s fake,” said Merilin. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to keep us out!”

“Maybe I’ll get Alagion to make me a bow,” growled Tathar, and the others giggled.

They meandered down to the ground level and through the kitchens (one of their favorite places.) The cooks and other workers immediately dove to protect all food sitting in the open, but Candrochon still managed to snatch a handful of nuts and dried berries. “Don’t you four go spoiling your luncheon!” shouted the head cook.

Giggling, Legolas, Merilin, and Tathar accepted their share of the loot. “By the stars, I can’t WAIT until my father lets me have a bow,” sighed Candrochon.

“Well, I’m going to be the best archer in Middle Earth!” declared Merilin, flouncing ahead of him with her nose in the air.

“So?” said Legolas. “I’ll be the best in all the world!”

“Fah! I’ll win the Great Trial!” said Tathar, tossing a berry and catching it in his mouth.

“I’ll slay dragons!” exclaimed Candrochon, pumping his fist.

“I’ll slay Nazgul!” cried Legolas, leaping into the air.

“I’ll slay the Necromancer!” yelled Merilin, jumping higher.

“I’ll take Dol Guldor!” declared Tathar.

“I’ll take Mount Doom!” shouted Candrochon.

They pranced along for some time in this fashion, running and jumping and waving their arms as each predicted his or her feats as warriors. The ambitions of the last prince of Mirkwood and his three best friends were well-known throughout Mirkwood. Legolas wished to be a warrior like most of his elder siblings, and so did Candrochon, Merilin, and Tathar. At their first coming of age when they reached fifty years, they would be allowed to begin training as novices.

But until then, they had to be content with dreams and fantasies, and every elf in the palace had heard their tales of their future exploits. None more than Alagion, whose craft also fashioned many of the weapons wielded by the warriors of Mirkwood. “Oh dear, you’re back,” he teased as the four came scampering through the door. “So Tathar, did you like your little present?”

Tathar pouted, “They’re mean to me.” Then he brightened, “But it’s a really good spider!”

“I thought you would appreciate my workmanship,” the craftsman said. He eyed the elflings knowingly, “I suppose the fact that you are here and today is the day I work on the warriors’ orders is not a coincidence.” He folded his arms, “Now you know I am not supposed to let you in the weapons room.”

“Can we look, please?” begged Merilin, her big green eyes pleading.

Alagion smiled and gave a little shake of his head. That little noble knew exactly how to get her way from her elders. Even the king found Merilin hard to resist. “I suppose you may watch, but you know the rules,” he said sternly. “I’ll not risk the wrath of your parents if one of you gets hurt. Behave yourselves.” The four nodded eagerly. “Very well. Come. I am putting the finishing touches on Elunen’s new bow this morning.”

He let the children into the room where he and the other weapons crafters worked. A bench and table stood along one wall, with various-sized pieces of wood, arrowheads, and tools neatly arranged. But the young visitors were primarily interested in the walls, where the newly-finished weapons hung. Alagion sat down and picked up a nearly-complete longbow and began etching the decorative elven symbols into it, while keeping a discreet eye on the aspiring warriors.

Legolas and Candrochon were examining a magnificent bow intended for Alagion’s grandfather, Beleryn, the warrior captain of Mirkwood. “That one is wonderful, Master Alagion.”

The craftsman smiled, “I am glad you think so. Captain Beleryn needed a new bow before he leaves on his next mission.”

“Where is he going?” asked Tathar, eyeing the newly-finished long knives set out upon another table.

“Moria, to protect Queen Minuial when she goes to visit the dwarves. The delegation leaves today.”

Legolas heaved a great sigh, “And she’ll be gone for three whole months!”

Alagion laughed, “Come now, Legolas, you want to explore Middle Earth. Why should your mother not?”

“Because I miss her when she goes!”

“Fair enough,” Alagion chuckled, then did the last of the etching along the bow. “There. What do you think?” He held up the weapon, unstrung as yet, but gracefully-shaped with a solid grip fit just to the size of its future owner’s hand, and twisted etching down its length.

“It’s beautiful,” sighed Merilin longingly. “Will you make our first bows?”

“I promise I shall,” said Alagion, and mounted the bow on the wall. “Elunen will string it herself. That is custom, you know. If you are truly destined to be a warrior, you must be able to string your own bow. Even your first bow.”

“I bet I could do it!”

“I could!”

“Of course I could!”

“We really could if Alagion showed us now!”

“Ah-ah,” Alagion laughingly shook his head. “That would be against the rules, Candrochon. One cannot cheat when it comes to weapons.”

The elflings shrugged and went back to inspecting the weapons. Legolas pointed to one mounted high on the wall, “Why ever did you make a crossbow, Alagion? Nobody likes them!”

“Just to see if I could. It works rather well, but all our warriors were content to trust their own longbow rather than such a strange thing. The crossbow shoots much harder, but not as accurately.”

Merilin wrinkled her nose, “A crossbow is for cowards who don’t want to face their foes.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Tathar, still examining the knives. “Crossbows have no honor. Like chili peppers.” ^

Everyone stopped. “What?!” demanded Alagion.

Legolas rolled his eyes. “Just ignore him when he says things like that. He doesn’t know what they mean either.”

“I do too!”

“Then what?”

“I’ll never tell!”

“See?” Legolas said smugly. Tathar just snorted.

Alagion shook his head, then glanced out the window. “Here comes Beleryn. You four had better be going.”

“Goodbye, Alagion!”

“Thanks, Alagion!”

“We’ll be back!”

“Goodbye!”

***

After lunch, Candrochon had to go with his father to one of the villages outside the palace, and Lady Narmeril came to haul off and scold Merilin over the chaos in the palace that morning. So Legolas and Tathar ended up wandering around the outer palace wondering what to do with themselves. “And I thought my father was strict,” Legolas said, wrinkling his nose.

“Lady Narmeril really is a she-orc! I heard she doesn’t even want to let Merilin be a warrior!”

“Why not?” demanded Legolas, appalled.

“She says it’s not proper for a high lady.”

Legolas drew himself up indignantly, “I’d like to hear her say that in front of my sister! She’s a princess AND a warrior!”

“And a good one at that. Lady Narmeril’s just a jibwick.”

They ran out onto the green between the outer palace and the cave in the mountainside that held the old palace halls of Mirkwood. They were almost completely unused now except for storage, and few of the wood elves spent much time within them. Still, it was a well-known rumor that King Thranduil’s treasure trove lay somewhere within them. Nonetheless, even the inquisitive and impetuous elflings kept their distance from caves of all kinds, no matter what wonders were reputed to be inside.

In keeping with this habit, Legolas and Tathar ran around the green, chasing butterflies and squirrels and collecting dead sticks and leaves to play with. The afternoon sun was merry among the leaves, and the palace guards watched the antics of the pair with amusement. Although they were terrified of the cave, Legolas and his friends loved the bridge that crossed the Forest River, and often spent many hours hanging over the edge watching the water flow beneath them.

On this particular day, Legolas and Tathar sprawled across the sun-warmed wood of the bridge and attempted to build houses from the sticks they had collected, with less than exciting results. Finally, bored with the game, Legolas tossed one of his twigs idly into the river, then leaned over the opposite end of the bridge to watch it float by. Tathar watched him curiously, then did the same, and they both watched the stick float beneath the bridge with fascination. Elf children, like all children, had a way of finding sources of interest and wonderment in the simplest of things.

“I’ve got an idea!” Legolas exclaimed, jumping up. He seized another stick, and handed it to Tathar, then took one of his own. “Throw them and see whose floats the fastest!”

“Right! One, two, three!” They flung the sticks into the water and waited, giggling eagerly, for them to float by. At last they came, one after the other.

“Mine won!”

“But you didn‘t throw yours as far! Not fair!”

“Then let’s try again!”

“Right!”

“Oonnnnneeee, twwwoooooo, THREE!!” the sticks flew. “You still threw yours closer to the bridge!” Tathar protested.

“I did NOT!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Fine, fine! Here!” Legolas leaned over the edge and held his stick above the water. “Just drop them then. Not fair, hold your arm out all the way. There. Ready? Now!” This time the sticks dropped straight down, and the elflings raced to the opposite side, watching eagerly. “THERE!! Ha! Mine still wins!”

“Poo!”

Legolas giggled, examining the remaining sticks in the pile. “I think it’s because you keep using sticks from the elm trees.” Curiously, he held up several of the twigs. “The beech sticks are lighter. That must be why they float faster.”

“Then let me use the beech stick this time, and you drop an elm stick.”

“Have it your way.”

“Ready? Drop!”

“Where are they? Where are they?”

“There! Oh…poo!”

“Haha! Now my stick wins again! I think the river likes me better!”

“Everyone likes you better because you’re the prince!”

“Fah! You’re just jealous that I’m better at picking sticks than you!”

“We’ll see about that; let’s do it again!”

And that was how Candrochon and Merilin found them on the bridge an hour later, dropping sticks simultaneously over the edge of the bridge and rushing to the opposite side to see whose floated by first. The two older elflings stared at their friends in amazement. “What ARE you doing?” demanded Merilin.

Legolas and Tathar looked up from where they’d been watching their sticks race. “Playing a game!” said Tathar.

“What kind of game is that?” asked Candrochon, coming up onto the bridge beside them.

“It’s something we just made up,” explained Legolas, picking up two sticks for a demonstration. “See? Like this. Drop the sticks right into the water and see whose floats to the other side first.”

Merilin and Candrochon watched with great interest. “I want to try!” declared Candrochon, not wanting to be left out of the fun.

“Me too!” added Merilin.

Soon the new arrivals were also hanging over the edge with sticks of their own. Now when the command was given, four little twigs dropped into the water, and four pairs of feet scampered to the other side.

“That’s mine! That’s mine!”

“It is not, you liar! That’s my stick! See? There’s yours; it’s longer!”

“He’s right, Candrochon.”

“You cheated, Legolas! See? Yours has a leaf sticking off it. You had a sail!”

“There’s no wind, clunkhead! A sail won’t make any difference!”

“Where’s mine?”

(Giggle!) “I think yours drowned, Tathar.”

“Poo.”

“What could possibly be so interesting?” said new voice.

The elflings sprang back from the edge to see none other than Queen Minuial standing at the foot of the bridge, watching them curiously. “Ahh,” Candrochon said, bowing hastily. “We’re just playing a game, my lady.”

With a perplexed little furrow of her pale brow, the elven queen walked onto the bridge, eyeing the sticks. “What sort of a game is that?”

“We just invented it!” Legolas said proudly. “Here, Mother, watch!” He thrust sticks into the hands of his friends, and they eagerly performed a demonstration.

Queen Minuial leaned over the rail as the children shouted over whose stick had come through first. “So you are racing sticks?” The elflings giggled and nodded, incredibly pleased with themselves. “And what do you call this new game of yours?”

“Ahh,” the foursome exchanged glances. “It’s called…it’s called…”

“Poo Sticks!” Legolas exclaimed, and Candrochon and Merilin burst into hysterical giggles.

Minuial blinked. “‘Poo’ sticks? Why?”

“Because that’s what you say when you lose!” cried Tathar, and they laughed harder.

*Children truly find the most amazing ways of amusing themselves,* thought the queen, with a mental shake of her head. “You try, Mother!” Legolas urged.

She smiled, “I think I would probably lose.”

“Oh, go on!” her youngest son pleaded.

Minuial regarded the four for a moment, then slowly smiled and accepted the proffered twig. Legolas was, after all, the youngest, and when he grew up she would not have any more chances to play with her children. The rest of his friends took their places at the edge of the bridge, admonishing her to remember what it looked like. “So we don’t mix them up,” explained Merilin.

“Drop your stick on the count,” instructed Candrochon gravely. “One, two, THREE!”

Laughing, Minuial let her stick fall with the others into the water, then looked over the other side of the bridge. “There goes Tathar’s.”

“I won, I won!”

“And there is mine! There comes Legolas’s, Candrochon’s, and Merilin’s.”

“This is the first time I haven’t won.”

“So sorry, dear. But you cannot win all the time.”

“Shall we do it again, Mother?”

“Minuial?” King Thranduil called as he walked toward them across the green. The queen looked over at him and smiled. “What are you all doing there?”

“Your son and his friends have invented a new game,” she told him.

“Indeed? Show me,” said the king. After his wife and the four children favored him with a demonstration, he laughed. “How very clever. It looks like fun.”

“Do you want to play, Father?”

“Not now, Legolas. I’m afraid I must speak with your mother.”

Minuial laughed, “Then you shall have to come and play it some time, Thranduil.” Kissing Legolas on the cheek and smiling at his friends, she took her husband’s arm and walked back towards the outer palace, her golden hair and forest green gown swirling gently in the summer sun.

Legolas’s friends watched their king and queen with awe. “They say the Lady Galadriel in Lothlorien is the fairest lady in all the world,” sighed Candrochon. “But I don’t think she could possibly be as beautiful as our queen.”

“Me neither,” agreed Legolas.

“And even if she were, I bet she doesn’t know how to play Poo Sticks!” crowed Tathar, causing the others to laugh and return to the game.

However, they soon encountered a new problem: they had run out of sticks. “Now what?” asked Legolas as he sat on the edge and let his legs dangle over the water.

“We could shove Legolas in,” Candrochon suggested to the others.

“You’re just mad because I’m better at Poo Sticks than you.”

“You just cheat!”

“Pfft!”

“Stop snorting, Tathar!”

Tathar had been looking at the cave entrance across the bridge. Now he turned and faced the others slyly. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Uh-oh,” Legolas wrinkled his nose. “The last time you looked like that, you convinced us all to sneak out of the outer palace and we got lost.”

“Pfft. Are you STILL scared about that? We hadn’t even gone past the archery fields; nothing would have happened!”

“Until it got DARK!” said Merilin accusingly. “Legolas is right; you always get us into trouble.”

“That never stops you from coming with me! It’s not my fault you’re all fright owls!”

“ARE NOT!!!”

Tathar’s smile got even more sly. “Then let’s go into the cave!”

“WHAT?!” came the chorused reply.

“You’re crazy!” cried Candrochon.

“No way,” added Merilin.

“Why would we possibly want to go in there?” demanded Legolas, gesturing to the forbidding mouth. “There’s nothing to see?”

“Haven’t you heard,” demanded Tathar, looking disgusted. “The king keeps his treasure down there! I’ve always wanted to see a real treasure. We could go and get a look at it.”

“No.”

“Definitely no.”

“Positively no!”

“Uh-uh.”

Tathar simply folded his arms and grinned at the others. “What?” he asked slyly. “Scared?”

*****

To be continued…

^ Don’t ask; it’s an inside joke.

ORIGINAL CHARACTER GUIDE

Queen Minuial: Legolas’s mother (made her up)
Princess Limloeth: second child of Thranduil and Minuial, Legolas’s older sister
Master Alagion: a craftsman of Mirkwood
Langcyll: an archer captain, Alagion’s father
Beleryn: warrior captain of Mirkwood, Alagion’s grandfather
Lady Narmeril: Merilin’s mother, a ranking Lady of Mirkwood

Chapter Two: Whose Idea Was This, Anyway?

“Your guard escort will be ready to depart in three hours’ time, my queen,” Langcyll announced.

“Thank you,” said Minuial from where she was packing the last of her bags.

Thranduil stood in the doorway of their chamber. “Still determined to go through with it, I see.” The elven queen merely laughed. He walked over to her. “I wish you would at least consider taking more guards. Dwarves are bad enough, but Moria--” he broke off, shaking his head as she turned to fix him with a stern expression. “Very well. I surrender.”

Minuial tossed aside the bag and turned to face her husband. “You should have more faith in people, my lord. Our realm is surrounded by men and dwarves; if this visit can ease our relations with them then it must be for the better. And what better way to prove sincerity in our intentions than to brave the dangers of Moria with them as they try again to reclaim it?”

“Because…” Thranduil replied in a patient voice than never failed to irritate her. “It…is…dangerous! We are speaking of Moria, not some pleasant little hobbit hole. Even if Durin’s Bane has left it, the place is one of the most orc-infested caves in Middle Earth.”

“The last reports from the dwarves there have been favorable, husband,” Minuial said forcefully. “And were you not so blinded by prejudice, you would not resist my efforts!” Thranduil drew back indignantly. She went on in a calmer tone, “THINK, Thranduil. Whatever your ill opinion of the dwarves as a race, admit they have enough self-preservation not to endanger themselves by endangering me. They know your temper as well as I,” her blue eyes twinkled. “They know well what would befall them if they allowed any harm to come to me.”

Aware that he had been outmaneuvered, Thranduil smiled. “And I shall impress that point still more with a long list of dire threats when you go.” His wife chuckled. The elven king glanced out the window from their chamber, high in the trees. “At least Legolas and his friends are still amusing themselves on the bridge. It will make him less difficult to find when it is time to bid you farewell.”

“Leave them be until then. Let them enjoy themselves. I’ll not be away that long.”

***

“Ready?”

“Wait until the guards turn their backs. If they see us go in, they’ll catch us before we get anywhere!”

Legolas, Tathar, Merilin, and Candrochon pretended to keep playing on the bridge to avoid arousing the suspicion of the palace guards. Some little time later, another group of warriors came out to relieve the sentries. “Now!” hissed Candrochon, and by the time the new sentinels had taken their places, the four elflings were long gone.

“You know, it’s not so bad,” remarked Tathar as he and Legolas led the way into the old part of the palace. He took a torch down from the wall and waved it about. “The air is a bit musty, but not as bad as I thought.”

Legolas wrinkled his nose, looking around. “I still prefer the open air. Well, Tathar, now what?”

“What?”

Merilin put her hands on her hips and glared at Tathar. “You DO know where these supposed treasure rooms are, don’t you?”

“Of course, clunk-head! It is obvious! They’d keep the treasure really deep in the cave, so we have to go farther.”
Tathar smirked at her in the light of the torch. “Unless, of course, you’re scared.”

With an exasperated sigh, Candrochon grabbed a torch of his own. “Let’s away, before someone comes looking for us!”

Keeping close together with their two torches, the company walked deeper into the elven king’s halls. “I can’t believe my father used to live here!” Legolas remarked.

“And his father,” added Merilin. “My mother remembers when there was hardly any outer palace at all.”

“Ugh!” Candrochon shuddered. “Imagine, living under stone all the time! Are we elves or dwarves?”

“Thank the Valar for the queen,” agreed Merilin. “But for her, we might still be living in this place.”

“But then again we would be used to it,” said Tathar, pointing his torch down a side corridor. “All in all, I don’t think it so bad.”

“Well, you’ve always been rather dwarvish,” said Legolas. Tathar made “mad eyebrows” at him.

(Giggle!) “Come on.”

For a long stretch in the main tunnel, torches lined the walls, and the air was fairly clean. Side corridors branching off were less well-lit, but some led to store rooms, and light coming down others revealed them to be exits. The hall slanted down, but not steeply, and the light from the main entrance soon dimmed around the bends. Legolas suddenly noticed that Candrochon and Merilin had moved very close to him and Tathar. The princeling giggled, “I think someone must be scared!”

“Awww, it’s all right, Legolas, hold Tathar’s hand if you’re scared,” Merilin shot back, but Legolas and Tathar just grinned at each other as the other two moved quickly back.

They came to another side corridor that was far better-lit than the others. “I wonder what’s down there?” Candrochon said with a curious frown. “That tunnel is almost as big as this one.”

Legolas glanced back toward the main entrance, mentally counting the doors. “Ooh, let’s go and see,” he exclaimed, grabbing Tathar’s torch and walking down the side.

“The treasure would not be this close to the entrance,” protested Merilin, but she and the others followed.

“I know,” said Legolas. “But my brother Berensul grew up in these caves, and he told me a little about them. If I’m right…” they came upon a pair of massive wooden doors. “I AM right! This is the great hall, where the elven kings of old held court! My grandfather too!”

“What big doors,” sighed Merilin in wonder. Indeed, the corridors and now this entrance were far larger than anything in the outer palace, since it was far easier to build large living spaces upon the ground than in the trees. “I wish we could go look inside. The hall must be very big.”

Candrochon attempted to push the doors open, with no luck. “They must be sealed. We may not be able to get into the treasure rooms either.”

Tathar also touched the crack between the doors, and noted the lack of handles. “They must open for the inside, or maybe there’s a switch somewhere.” They looked about, but spotted nothing. “But the treasure rooms wouldn’t draw attention to themselves by having doors like these. We might be able to get in there.”

Disappointed, Legolas shrugged. “Oh well. If we’re to hunt down this treasure, we’d best be going before someone misses us.” As they turned away, he absently patted the smooth wood, feeling strangely familiar with the knowledge that his father, his grandather, and their fathers before had once spent many hours of the day within that great room.

There was a soft “Thump,” and the elflings leapt backward in surprise as the doors swung inward of their own accord. Legolas yelped, Merilin squeaked, and Tathar and Candrochon nearly dropped their torches as the huge doors opened on a great yawning darkness. “Wow,” whispered Merilin.

“How by the Valar did you DO that?” hissed Candrochon in astonishment, staring at the black maw.

“I don’t know!” Legolas replied, equally dumbfounded.

Pointing his torch at the darkness, Tathar frowned thoughtfully. “I do. My father told me about the old palace once…the gates and the doors to the great hall are magic. No one can come in or out without the blessing of the king. The doors know his voice and his touch, but if he orders them closed, even a battering ram couldn’t open them.”

“That must be it,” gasped Merilin, grabbing Legolas’s arm in excitement.

“But I’m not the king!” Legolas protested.

“No, but you’re his son,” said Candrochon, understanding. “His blood. I bet if you had said out loud that you wanted the doors to open, they would have.”

“Should we walk inside? I’d like to see how big it is,” said Tathar.

“It’s too dark,” said Merilin. “We couldn’t see anything.” She peered into the blackness, which seemed to swallow up their torches. “It might be a hole, for all we know.”

“Wait! I have an idea!” Tathar exclaimed. He grinned at Merilin and Candrochon, then grabbed Legolas and flung him through the doors.

“Hey! What are you--AAAAAHHHH!!” Legolas shrieked as he tumbled into the darkness. This floor also slanted down, more sharply than the outside corridor, but he was able to catch himself after rolling a ways. He raised his head toward the scant light coming from the doorway and opened his mouth to scald Tathar with some very un-princely words, when, with a soft “whoosh”, braziers throughout the hall suddenly burst into flame. Furious words died on his lips, and the youngest prince of Mirkwood stared around him in awe. “Elbereth!” he whispered.

His companions were equally flabbergasted, standing in the doorway and taking in the incredible size of the hall. Ornately-carved wooden benches lined the walls, with the great aisle in between where Legolas sat. Hundreds of elves could fill this hall. Pillars hewn of living stone came down from the high-vaulted ceiling, and at the front of the room was a slightly-raised surface, which Legolas suspected had housed the throne of the elven kings of old. That throne now sat in the much-smaller audience hall within the tree palace.

Tathar, Merilin, and Candrochon slowly ventured into the hall, gaping at the hugeness of the room. Never had any of them seen a place so grand. Looking at the rows of benches, Candrochon remarked, “When do you think there would have been enough elves to fill such a room?”

“During a Gathering, maybe,” said Legolas, walking slowly to the place where the thrones had stood and looking around. A little shiver ran through him, and he could imagine clearly the great hall long ago, filled with elves, the heralds at the door, and an elven king and queen (bearing a striking resemblance to his father and mother) presiding over the court of Mirkwood. Though the realm and wealth of Thranduil was great, the elders often said it was nothing compared to the days of old. Legolas longed to have lived in such grand times.

“Well? Shall we go treasure-seeking now?” Tathar said eagerly.

Legolas shook his head in disgust. “You truly are a dwarf.” But he turned away from the dais and started back down the center aisle. Though it had been thousands of years since the court of Mirkwood had been held here, the place did not seem quite empty. It seemed to echo softly with the spirits of those great elves long-gone, and the memories of the greatest Elder days that they had taken with them. Moreover, it seemed to whisper directly to Legolas, as though acknowledging him as their son. At last, Legolas followed his friends, but paused in the doorway as they went on. Turning back to stare at the hall, the home of his ancestors, he whispered softly, “Goodbye.” Almost as if they had heard him, the braziers flickered out one by one, cloaking the room in darkness once again. Then Legolas stepped back out into the corridor, and the doors swung closed with a soft “thump.”

His friends looked curiously at him as he stood briefly staring at the doors, then Merilin asked softly, “Ready?”

Shaking himself out of the odd mood of that room, Legolas turned to them and grinned, “Let’s away!”

Taking up the lead again, Tathar easily enough found the way back to the main tunnel, and down they went. It really was not so unpleasant at least in the outer corridor, for it was wide and high, and the air still flowed freely. Soon the company began to skip, and Tathar began to sing, quickly joined by the others:

“The Road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.”

Thus they traveled down the dark hallway, and it was really not unpleasant at all. The song was a tune that Tathar’s father Alagos had heard Mirkwood’s warrior captain Beleryn singing last year when he came back from traveling west of the Misty Mountains. Alagos was a great collector of the lore and songs of all races, and had demanded that Beleryn sing it again and again until he had it all noted down. Apparently, Beleryn had heard it in a hobbit village in the Shire.

Soon the main corridor split into two, and the elflings came to a halt. “Now what?” asked Candrochon, glancing around nervously. He suddenly wished they had each carried a torch, for they had only the two, and it was now very dark.

Tathar walked up to each forbidding opening, pointing his torch at them thoughtfully. At length, he gestured to the right passage, “That way.”

“How do you know?” demanded Merilin.

“Trust me!”

As Tathar started down into the darkness, the others exchanged extremely dubious looks before hurrying to catch up with them. It was dark enough without one torch-bearer getting away from them. But still, Legolas looked at Merilin and Candrochon and muttered, “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

The passage split again some time later, and then again. Tathar led them down the twists and turns with an air of great confidence--a sure sign to the others that he had absolutely no idea where he was going. They felt they had been walking for hours. The tunnels were now much more narrow, and the air was far staler. “We’ve been wandering through here forever!” complained Candrochon.

“Stop whining!”

“Are you certain you know where we are, Tathar?” Legolas asked pointedly as they came to yet another branching corridor.

“Positive! I have a perfect sense of direction!” Tathar snapped, checking out each of the corridor openings in turn. “The treasure chambers must be the deepest ones so they are the hardest to get to!”

“Wonderful! So we have to stay down here even longer to get to this reported treasure!”

“If you’re scared, Candrochon, you can always go back up!”

“I’m not scared, Legolas!”

“Shh! Be quiet, you two!”

“Peace, Merilin, no one will hear us,” Legolas said dismissively, though his mind was conjuring up vague images of all sorts of unseen horrors creeping through the darkness just beyond their torchlight. “There is no one down here at all…what was that?!”

“What? Where!?”

“I heard something!”

“Pfft, you’re mad, Legolas,” Tathar said, going to examine another corridor.

Candrochon waved his torch about, looking for any sign of trouble. Rolling his eyes, he said, “I don’t see any--AAAAIIIIII!!!! There’s something swooping down! Help! RUN!!!” In a desperate attempt to find his way back out of the death trap they had suddenly found themselves in, he bolted back the way they had come. Not wanting to lose the light, Legolas and Merilin sprinted after him.

They tore frantically through the winding corridors, sprinting down side passages without stopping to look for their footprints or any other guide, screaming at Candrochon to slow down and not leave them in the darkness. At last, Legolas caught up and all but dragged Candrochon to a stop.

(Gasp! Pant!) “For pity’s sake, Candrochon, it was just a bat!”

(Pant!) “They say--they say--the bats that live in caves suck blood!” (Whimper!)

“Will you stop it, Merilin!?” Legolas snapped and glanced around, trying to get his bearings. His heart lurched. “Ahhh, where’s Tathar?”

Candrochon and Merilin froze, then looked desperately about. Candrochon pointed his torch at arm’s length as he moved cautiously toward other passages, trying to find some sign of their friend.

Merilin and Legolas nervously stayed where they were, peering through the darkness in search of the other torch. “He was here a minute ago…I can’t see him! I can’t see anything! What’s happened?! Where‘s the light?”

“Aii! What…” Candrochon’s sheepish voice floated back to them out of the blackness, “I don’t suppose anyone brought some flint and steel with us?”

“Oh curse the Valar, what now?” Merilin said in disgust.

“Tathar! Where are you?!” Legolas shouted into the dark. “We’re lost! The torch has gone out!”

(Shiver) “Maybe--maybe we should just wait until someone comes and finds us,” suggested Merilin.

Candrochon‘s voice was suddenly directly in Legolas’s ear. “Legolas?”

“What?”

“I’m hungry.”

***

When Tathar had seen the dark object swooping toward him from the ceiling, he had instinctively dashed in the opposite direction, down the corridor whose entrance he had been inspecting. He could hear his friends shrieking, but the squeaks of whatever hideous demon it was were much closer, and he kept running. He pelted down several more corridors before the bloodthirsty shrieks died away, and then he stood alone in the light of his torch, panting and trembling from his near-death experience.

When at last he caught his breath, Tathar looked around and called out, “Legolas?” His voice only echoed strangely. He must have run very deep underground indeed! “Legolas! HELLO! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!?! LEGOLAS!! Ohhhh… HEEELLLLLPPP!!!”

***

Deep in another part of the caverns, panicked little voices were sliced through the blackness, terrified, and thinking only of survival:

“I canNOT believe you dropped the torch, Candrochon!”

“It was not my fault, Merilin! With all your talk of bloodsucking monsters and such, I would say it is yours!”

“Bah! You cannot blame me for everything, you little coward! You would have run from your own shadow--”

“SHHH! I am trying to listen! Tathar may be hurt somewhere and all you two can do is quarrel!”

“You cannot see any better than the rest of us in this dark, Legolas!”

“Nay, but I could hear if you would keep quiet!”

(Whimper!) “Do you suppose the bat got him?”

“Shh!”

“I still say this is all Merilin’s fault. Ow!”

“Shh! Listen! Did you hear that?”

“What, Legolas?”

“Listen!”

From the distance, they thought they heard calls for help. “TATHAR!!! WE’RE COMIIIINNNNGGG!!!” Grabbing his friends’ hands, for they would surely lose each other in the darkness, Legolas sprinted blindly down the corridor.

(Pant! Gasp!) “Legolas, do you still hear him?”

“Just keep going, Mer, we’ll find him!”

“Wait! Slow down--aah!” (Thud!)

(Thud!) “Ooh!”

(Thud!) “Ow!”

“What happened?”

“Ahhh, we seem to have run into a wall.”

“Oh, great, just great! Get OFF me, Candrochon!”

“Ow!”

Pat pat! Scratch! “Was this wall here before?”

“No, Legolas, it walked here after we went by the first time! How do we even know where we’re going?”

“I can’t see a thing!” (Shiver) “This isn’t like the forest at night!”

“That’s because there’s no moon underground, you stupid jibwick!”

“Move over, Merilin.” (Shuffle! Scuff! Thump!) “How by the Valar are we going to get out of here?”

“Well, Legolas, if you hadn’t been so insistent on trying to grope around in the dark, we’d have been better off where we were!”

“And how do you know that, Lady Goblin?”

(Sniffle!) “I want to go home!”

“Oh, stop it, Candrochon! That won’t help!”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Liar!”

“Have done, you two! If something down here doesn’t eat us, you’ll kill each other!”

Then there was silence. “Legolas?”

“What, Candrochon?”

“What’s down here that could eat us?”

***

All was in readiness for the delegation of Mirkwood, led by the elven queen, to depart on a mission of friendship to the latest dwarf undertaking in Moria. The guard was essembled, the bags packed, the horses laden, only was thing was missing: the queen.

Crown Prince Berensul, the eldest of Thranduil and Minuial’s children, came from the archery field to where his parents waited just within the palace foyer. “None of the captains or novice masters have seen him, Father.”

Minuial, clad to travel in a dark blue riding habit, came out of the palace, her own searching having also come up empty. King Thranduil gave a disgusted shake of his head. “How like Legolas to disappear when we are on a schedule.” To his wife, he murmured, “Perhaps you should depart as planned before it grows too dark. Then that child might learn his lesson.”

Minuial seemed to consider the idea for a moment, then smiled and shook her head. “Have a little more patience, husband, he is but twenty-two. Such antics are the way of all children, and to leave without saying goodbye would punish him for more than he deserves. We would both regret it after a week.” She turned to Berensul, “Continue looking for him.”

With a bemused expression, the crown prince said, “We have already tried every one of their usual hiding places.”

“We are speaking of Legolas, are we not? I suggest you try the places they’ve not yet been found hiding.” Berensul laughed, and obeyed his mother’s order.

Berensul and several of the palace guards made a fruitless search of the corridors, chambers, and outside grounds, finding no sign of the missing elflings. Shaking his head in dismay, the elven king’s heir remarked, “Those four do have a propensity to get themselves lost, but this is ridiculous. Where could they have got to?”

The captain of the palace guard glanced across the green to the entrance to the inner palace within the cave. “Could they have wandered into the inner palace, my lord?”

“In the cave? I think not, Langcyll, they are all terrified of it.”

“Perhaps they became bored with the game they were playing on the bridge.”

“Still, I cannot imagine Legolas entering a cave, no matter how bored he was,” Berensul said doubtfully.

Langcyll smiled slyly. “Not even after the fright he, Lady Merilin, and Candrochon gave their friend Tathar this morning? I imagine Tathar, seeking a little revenge, might have goaded them into it, hoping to give them a fright of their own.”

The other searchers paused, considering this. Berensul smiled slowly and turned to the guards. “Fetch us some torches, friends. Let us explore the ancient halls of our fathers.”

***

“HELLOOOOOOOO!!!” With his lone torch bobbing in the gloom of the caves, Tathar darted from one corridor to another, throwing open every door that he happened upon, only to find more darkness. How much longer could these caves possibly go on? “HELLO?!?! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!?!?!”

Out of breath, he stopped and glared up at his flickering torch. “This really is not fair. They were supposed to be the scared ones, especially after that mean trick they played on me.” He stomped on down the tunnel, “And now I’m lost down here. They’ve probably already found their way out! And they’ll laugh at me! Assuming they find me. Assuming I don’t get eaten. By something. There’s probably a big spider nest, or orcs, or wargs, or Lady Narmeril lurking down here in wait. And of COURSE, they had to run away and leave me alone with the bat! Some friends they are! Hmph!”

He pointed his torch down another side corridor only to find more of the same--long dark walls. “You’d think they could at least have decorated a little more down here! Maybe then I would know which tunnel was which.” He scowled up at his torch again, thinking for a minute. “And considering that there could be orcs or wargs or spiders or…Lady Narmeril…I guess it’s not the smartest thing in the world for me to be TALKING TO MYSELF!!!”

The tunnel echoed, “MYSELF, MYSELF, MYSELF…” at him.

Tathar scowled into its depths, “Don’t you talk back to me!” He started walking faster, still scared, still lost, and worst of all, getting incredibly bored. “I’m starting to wish I would run into orcs. Or spiders. Or wargs, just…not Lady Narmeril. I cannot imagine how Mer puts up with her. I’d have shoved her into the Enchanted River if she were my mother, or fed her to Smaug. Then again, if he were smart, he would spit her out.”

The tunnels truly were becoming insufferably repetitive. For each side corridor he discovered, the light of the torch simply revealed more of the same: dark. Dark walls, dark floors, dark ceilings, dark doors-- *Wait a minute. Dark doors? I haven’t seen any doors down this far before!*

There were indeed doors, plain, heavy stone doors set into the side of this new corridor. He walked cautiously up to one of them and rapped its heavy bulk with his knuckles. No magic hummed, no sign that they concealed any more wondrous chambers like the throne room. “Pfft. Typical. I’ve probably found the dungeons.” Just out of curiosity, he lifted the metal handle and shoved hard. The stone was heavy, but the hinges were surprisingly well-oiled for a deep, forgotten cave, and the door swung inward, revealing…more darkness. “I wonder what’s in here. Pfft, probably Sauron, with my luck,” he muttered, but walked inside just the same. After all, this was the first change in scenery he had found in several hours.

There was a soft “whoosh” similar to the sound they had heard in the throne room as the braziers burst to life. Here, dozens of torches lining the walls suddenly filled the chamber with light. A light that reflected off the contents of the room, and illuminated Tathar’s face with a distinctly golden hue.

“…ELbereth!”

***

“Where do you suppose Tathar is?” Legolas mused, stretching his hands out into the impenetrable blackness as they walked down the hall.

Behind him, holding his right shoulder tightly, Merilin whispered, “Do you suppose something ate him?”

“He probably ran into a wall and broke his head,” Candrochon muttered, clinging to Legolas’s left shoulder.

“If he’s any smarter than you, Cand, he didn’t drop his torch,” Legolas snapped. “So he’s probably already found his way out of here!”

(Whimper!) “Do you think we ever will?”

“Don’t know, Merilin, but they’ve got to come looking for us eventually. Oh, dragon dung! My mother is supposed to be leaving for Moria this afternoon! They’ll have my hide if I delay her!”

(Sigh) “Still, at least it won’t be so long until we are missed. How long have we been down here?”

“I don’t know, Cand, but it’s got to be a few hours.”

“It seems like weeks!”

“Months!”

“Decades!”

“Oh, enough--” (Thump!) “Ow!”

“What’s that?!”

“I just found another wall. Here…turn, slowly--ow! Don’t push, Merilin! Left or right?”

“I can’t tell which. Left.”

“If you’re wrong, Merilin, and we get lost, it will all be your fault.”

“Shut your cave, Candrochon!”

“Will you two jibwicks be quiet? If someone does come looking for us, we wouldn’t be able to hear them! Wait, stop--” (Clink!) “Ow.”

“Clink? What did you hit, Legolas?”

Rub, rub. Pat, pat. “It feels like…bars. Iron bars. It’s--” Creeeeaaakkkk! “Look out! AAAAHHHH!!”

(Slip! Slide!) “Aaahh!”

“Eeeehhh!” (Shuffle! Shuffle! Scuff!)

“Ai!” (Thump) “Ow!”

(Thud) “Ouch!”

(Whump!) “Oomph!”

(Rustle, shuffle, thump!) “Get off me! You’re crushing me!”

“Ow!”

“Ooh!”

Brush, brush. Pat, pat. “Candrochon! Keep your hands to yourself!”

“I just wanted to be sure nothing was broken, Mer!”

“You were not hitting my bones!”

“Now where are we, Legolas?”

Legolas reached out and groped around in the darkness. The floor was dirtier than before, and the walls rather damp. “It smells much worse, wherever we are.”

“What happened?”

“I was touching…bars. Metal bars, but they moved and you two pushed me through.”

“We didn’t do it on PURPOSE!”

“Phew, it does smell rather rank in here, doesn’t it?”

“That’s because you’re standing right next to Candrochon.” (Thump!) “Ow!”

“Legolas, I think perhaps we should go back the way we came. The smell of this place does not bode well.”

“For once, wisdom from the mouth of a she-elf!” Whack! “Ow!”

“Stop it, you two! Follow me! We’ll just turn riiiight arooooouuund, the way we came--” (Clink!) “Ow!”

“What? What is it? Why did you clink again?”

“Don’t panic, Cand, we’ve found the bars again. Now we just have to push them back out--” (Scritch!) Legolas pushed the bars, but found solid resistance this time. He shoved harder. (Scuff!) He braced himself against the bars and pushed with all his might. “Rrrrggghhh!”

The bars creaked a little, but did not give way. Legolas stepped back. “Legolas?” whispered Merilin’s voice from the darkness behind him.

“Ahh, the bars won’t move.”

“Maybe it was a different spot we came through,” suggested Candrochon.

(Shuffle, shuffle!) Pat. Push. (Creak!) (Clink!) Shove! (Grunt!) “I…grrrhhhgg…can’t…mmmph!…find any spot that will move again!” Legolas exclaimed, panic entering his voice.

Kick! (Clang!) “Ow. Nor can I.”

Then there was a long silence. (Whimper!) “Legolas?”

“What, Merilin?”

“Are we in the dungeons?”

More silence. “Where else would they have iron bars?”

“Stop it, Candrochon, you’re--” sniffle!-- “only making things worse!”

(Shuffle, shuffle) Pat, pat. Thump. “There’s a bench here, and a bed…we are in the dungeons.”

“How did the door shut on us then?!”

“Maybe…” (Sniffle!) “Maybe it’s magic like the throne room doors, and it just closes on anyone who’s not a guard!”

“You mean…we’re trapped in here?”

RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE!!! CLANG CLANG CLANG!!! “HEEEEEEELLLLLPPPP!!!”

***

The first of the queen’s search party had no trouble finding the small footprints of four little explorers who were NOT supposed to be in the inner halls. But the crown prince was troubled when the prints suddenly divided, one set leading off in one direction, and three more in another. “Oh dear. One of them was separated.” He handed a torch quickly to Alagion. “Hurry and find the straggler. They must be frightened.” The elf quickly led several searchers down the tunnel.

Alagion, with Eregdos and Narbeleth, two of the palace guards, hurriedly followed the footprints and began calling out into the darkness, hoping to draw out whichever elfling had been separated from the other three. “Poor thing, they must be frightened out of their wits by now!”

“HELLO?!” came a startled cry from down the passage.

“Tathar?” shouted Alagion. “Keep calling, we are coming!”

The sound of running feet could be heard along with the elfling’s shouts, and soon Tathar burst around a corner at a dead run, plowing into the son of Langcyll. “Oh Alagion!” He threw his arms around the artisan’s knees. “I was lost and by myself and alone and I got chased by a bat and it was dark and awful and boring! I thought something would eat me!”

Laughing, Alagion knelt and managed to pry the child’s grip from his legs. “Peace, little one, it is all over. And there is nothing down here that could eat you.”

“What about orcs and wargs and Lady Narmeril and spiders and--”

“Hush!” exclaimed Eregdos, trying to stifle his own laughter. “Come, Alagion , let us get this one back into the sun where he belongs. By the Valar, whatever were you four thinking?”

“It wasn’t my fault! Candrochon put us up to it!”

***

When their attempts to break out of the prison proved fruitless, the three remaining elflings sat upon the bench in the cell. “This is all your fault!”

“It is not!”

“It’s Tathar’s fault!”

“Don’t say that, Candrochon, he could be hurt!”

“It would serve him right!” Bonk! “Ow!”

(Whimper!) “I want to go home!”

Sigh. “Someone will find us.”

“Unless they think we’d never come into the cave--ow! What was that for, Legolas?”

“I’m scared enough as it is, Merilin, stop making it worse!”

“Candrochon’s scared more than both of us!”

“Am not!”

(Gasp!) “Who’s there?!”

“What?”

“I heard something!”

“Stop it, Legolas, you’re just trying to scare us.” (Sniffle!)

“No, Merilin, I did hear something. Someone’s coming!”

“I don’t hear anything--wait! It’s a footstep!”

“See, Candrochon hears it too--it’s an elf! HELLO!! HELLO, we’re down here!!!”

“Shhh! Legolas, what if it isn’t, what if it’s something else--”

“I don’t care, I want to get out of these dungeons before we starve or die or something else comes and eats us--HELLOOOOO!! Can you hear me!?” RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE!!! CLANG CLANG CLANG!!!

“Who is down here?”

“Berensul?! Berensul, it’s me, it’s Legolas! Help! We’re lost!”

“Calm down, Legolas, we are coming.” The bobbing light of torches in the dungeon was the most beautiful sight the trapped elflings had ever seen. The crown prince and his searchers came upon the three in a cell that had swung closed too tightly for them, and quickly opened it. “Ah, there you are--oomph! It’s all right, you are safe now. Let go of my legs and we will have you out of here.”

(Whimper!) “We-lost-Tathar-and-we-can’t-find-him!”

“Stop crying, it is all right. Tathar cannot be far from you, and there are other searchers looking. Peace, all three of you, we will find Tathar.” Berensul jerked his head at the others and picked up his youngest brother. Legolas was normally too big to be carried, but he and his friends were clearly hysterical.

“What if the bat got him?!”

“Was it a very big bat, Merilin?” he asked in amusement, turning to face the little girl now held in Langcyll’s arms.

“Well, no…”

“It would be a very big bat indeed that would be able to carry off even an elf as small as Tathar. Now, let us be off and we will have you out of these caves in no time--whatever possessed you to come down here?”

“Tathar said there was treasure!”

“Do not believe everything your friends say, Candrochon.” (Sigh.) “There are enough elves besotted with treasure without adding any more from this generation. Spend your time on other pursuits. Come, let us return to the land of the living.”

“Berensul?”

“Yes, Legolas?”

“Am I in trouble?”

*****

Epilogue

The queen’s delegation never did manage to depart that afternoon, as it became clear the moment the crown prince appeared from the cave and deposited his littlest brother into his mother’s arms. “I fear we shall have to wait until tomorrow to get under way,” Minuial told Beleryn over the sound of her youngest son’s sobs.

The captain of the Mirkwood warriors smiled slightly. “The company shall be ready to depart on your command, my queen.” With a bow, and a grin at the little prince still clinging to the queen, he left them.

Minuial laughingly rocked Legolas in her arms. “Hush now, my little one. It is all over.”

“Mmm,” hiccupping back his sobs, Legolas raised his tear-filled gray eyes to her. “We lost Tathar!”

“Peace, child, Alagion found Tathar,” said Thranduil from behind the queen. “Let us take you inside and then we shall send for Alagos. Come.” He gestured to Langcyll, who was carrying Merilin, and Fimsigil, who was carrying Candrochon, and the procession of elven warriors carrying terrified elflings proceeded into the palace.

But Legolas would not let his arms be pried from around his mother’s neck, and Minuial too seemed loathe to relinquish him. So the elven queen carried him herself, as Berensul laughingly told her she was spoiling him. “There there, my darling,” Minuial murmured as they came into one of the palace rooms. “You and all your friends are safe now.”

“I hope now you have learnt your lesson, Legolas. It is not wise to go sneaking away into places you have never been without letting anyone know where you are going.”

(Hic!) “I’m sorry, Father!” (Sniffle.)

Thranduil laughed, sitting down next to the little prince who sat sniffling in his wife’s lap. “You are fortunate that your mother’s party was due to leave or we might not have found you so soon.”

(Sob!) “Am I in trouble?”

“Nay, Legolas, I believe you learnt your lesson from that hour you spent being lost.”

“It felt like weeks and weeks!”

“I am sure it did. But it is over now, and you are all safe and sound.”

“Only because Mother rescued us, or we might have died!”

Thranduil chuckled, exchanging a smile with his wife. “Well, it is your mother’s duty to look after you, isn’t it, my dear?”

“Indeed,” said Minuial, glancing toward the door as several other elves came in. “Ah, here are Alagos and Tathar.” She released her grip on her son, and Legolas at last was willing to get down. No sooner had he climbed from his mother’s lap than he raced toward the newly-arrived elfling who entered at his father’s side. The rest of the adult elves watched in amusement at the highly-dramatized exchange that followed.

“Tathar! Tathar! Where have you been?!”

“I might ask the same of you, Legolas!”

“We were lost in the dungeons, and it was dark and damp and awful and cold and terrible and there were bloodsucking bats and then we lost the torch!” Candrochon cried, gesticulating wildly. “And then we got scared!”

“I was lost in the dungeons too, but I was all by myself! I was more scared than you!”

Thranduil rose and motioned to Minuial as Beleryn came into the room. “We should see to it that our plans are ready for tomorrow morning.”

“You are right, my lord. Come, Alagos, let us leave these two to share tales of their adventures. Do not go wandering off again, Legolas and Tathar. I think you have had more than enough excitement for one day.”

“Yes, Mother!” Legolas, Merilin, Candrochon, and Tathar waited until the grown-ups left.

“So…that’s all? You were just in the dungeons like we were?”

“Yes, Merilin, and I was afraid too!”

“So…none of us found the treasure rooms.”

(Sigh) “No, it would seem not.”

“Tathar?”

“What?”

“Are you sure you found nothing?”

“Of course! What, Legolas, would I lie to you?”

***

Later that night…

Legolas was awakened by a tapping on his balcony window. He opened the curtains to find Tathar standing outside. “What by the Valar are you doing? Do you want to get into trouble again?”

“Come back to my quarters!”

“Why?”

“Just come!”

Legolas knew that if he did not go with Tathar, his friend would immediately accuse him of being a fright owl again. “All right, but if we get into trouble again…”

“We won’t! Come on!”

They crept back to the dwelling of Alagos and through Tathar’s chamber window. “Shh!” (Giggle) “Legolas, I want to show you something. Look, in my box.”

“What have you--Tathar! Where did you get all those? Pearls! All pearls! Did you--you were NOT in the dungeons when we got lost!”

(Snicker!) “I only found one treasure room, but as you see, it was more than enough. I wish you could have seen it! Mountains of it! Gold and silver piled all about the floor and boxes of gems!”

“How could you not tell me!”

“I’m telling you now! Would I keep such a thing from my best friend?”

“You stole my father’s pearls, Tathar, what will you do when they are missed? The guards know we were down there!”

“There’s little chance of that, there were so many I dug my hand into the barrel and still left it heaping full. Oh, Legolas, the dragon Smaug himself would come for Mirkwood if he knew what’s down there.”

“You may still get into trouble.”

“Come, Legolas, it will be fine. I will give you one if you promise not to tell anybody.”

“I…nay, I do not want one. Someone would find it.”

“Oh, go on, I do not begrudge you a share of my treasure! You must take at least one! You are my best friend.”

“I need no pearls to remind me of that, Tathar.”

“Have it your way,” Tathar rifled idly through the box. “Look at this one!” He held up a teardrop-shaped pearl, colored a pink so pale that it was almost white. “Looks like the petal of an apple blossom.”

“That’s a pretty one. And this one,” Legolas held up a round black pearl the size of a blueberry. “Father says black pearls are the most valuable. How much would you guess this is worth?”

“Plenty, that is for sure. Are you certain you don’t want one?”

Legolas considered it, then shook his head. “I would rather just look at yours. But a share of your sweetmeat stash, THAT I’ll take!”

“Ahhh!” (Giggle!) “Come on, then!”

***

Dawn, the next morning…

“Legolas?” Thranduil gently shook his youngest son from his slumber. “Come on, little one, wake up.”

“Mmm, what is it, Father?” Legolas murmured, blinking sleepy gray eyes at the his father.

Thranduil smiled, “Your mother’s delegation is departing shortly. We must go and bid her farewell.” Seeing that Legolas was not going to bestir himself very quickly, the elven king simply picked him up and carried him from his chamber. *I expect all his adventures of yesterday wore him out.*

Queen Minuial, waiting with the three elder royal children, Berensul, Belhador, and Limloeth, smiled when she saw her husband carrying a still-sleepy Legolas down the outer palace steps. “You are spoiling him, my lord.”

“Since when are you the only one permitted to carry him about?” the king replied with a chuckle. He put Legolas down. “Come, little one, say goodbye to your mother.”

Legolas rubbed the last of the sleep from his eyes and sighed heavily, “NOW where are you going?”

“Legolas, that is no way to speak to your mother. She is going to Moria, to visit the dwarves.”

“What?! You’re going into caves…like the ones down there?”

“No, my little one, not like those. There are lots of dwarves in the caves, and I shall be perfectly safe.”

“We were not very safe.”

“Do not be silly, child, you came out all right,” laughed Limloeth.

“Only because Mother sent Berensul to rescue us!”

Thranduil chuckled, “And I told you, it is a mother’s sacred duty to protect her children. No harm will ever come to you.”

“Of course,” agreed Minuial. “Come, my son, let me kiss you.”

“Oh, Legolas, do not squirm so. She shall be gone for a few months, at least kiss her goodbye.”

“Pfft, all right. But Mother, if you go, who will look after me then?”

“Why, your father, of course. After all, I may have noticed you were missing, but it was he who sent Berensul to find you. Now, I must be off. Goodbye, Thranduil. Take care.”

“And you, Minuial. Come back safely to us.”

With that, the elven queen of Mirkwood mounted her horse at the front of the company, next to the captain of Mirkwood’s warriors, and they rode away, waving back to her family. Legolas watched them go and shivered slightly. “Father, will you always protect me?”

“Of course, my Legolas. It is a father’s lifelong task to protect his children. I shall never let anything happen to you.”

“Or Mother?”

“Or Mother.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

~Fin~