AN: This is a continuation of a series of stories titled Interrupted Journeys. Parts One through Five have already been posted. In particular, this is a continuation of Interrupted Journeys: Journeys in Mirkwood. You might understand this story a bit better if you read that first.

This part of the story is set in Legolas's childhood, when he is 35.

Any Sindarin used is translated at the end of each chapter.

I hope you enjoy this part of Interrupted Journeys.

Chapter One: Grief
Third Age 1975

Eyes closed and nestled securely in the arms of the great beech, Legolas allowed the cheerful morning songs of the trees, birds and other little creatures in his mother's garden to wash over him. He breathed deeply the fresh, cleansing smell of green leaves, herbs, and wildflowers carried by the soft breeze. Mingled with the forest scents were the smell of hearth fires and roast meats as the elves in the capital awakened to another summer morning. Amongst it all, Legolas should have felt warmly wrapped in the sense of home that he was so accustomed to. But he did not. Over the last few days, he had found it much easier to ignore the throbbing of his wound than the insistent memories of the events that caused it. It was nearly impossible for him to lose himself in the forest's song as he once easily could.

The problem was, the peaceful beauty of the forest around the stronghold no longer seemed entirely real to him. It no longer seemed like the whole truth.

Legolas found his thoughts continuously turning back to the forest in the south. The gnarled, black trees, the oppressive, black mist that hung in the air, the smells of rot and decay, not to mention the smell of the orcs and the sight of their grotesque bodies and weapons.  The whole atmosphere in the south was desperate. The elves there clung to a pitiful life as they struggled to hold at bay the evil that constantly threatened to choke off their harsh existence once and for all. And with Uncle Aradunnon and Aunt Amoneth's deaths, the fact that sometimes, for some elves, the struggle was lost, was all too horribly real.

For as long as Legolas could remember, Aradunnon and Dolgailon had fought the 'we cannot lose anymore territory' argument against Engwe and Thranduil. Legolas had always been certain his father must surely be right when he insisted that Aradunnon pull the warriors back. But after seeing with his own eyes how the trees in the south mustered their remaining hope when the King had walked amongst them, Legolas could not imagine how his father justified that sort of decision. If more warriors were needed, there were plenty of elves in the capital that were perfectly capable of being warriors. The King should send them to defend the forest.

Legolas cringed at that thought. It sounded like something Anastor, or worse still, Dannenion might say. Trying to turn away from that treasonous line of thinking, Legolas allowed his gaze to wonder around the garden, seeking distraction, and his attention was drawn to the open door to the stronghold.

"I want you both to help me tell Thranduil. It will be easier for him to hear it if you are both there to remind him that you will remain. That he will still have your support," Dieneryn was saying. Her voice sounded dull. As if she were not really focused on her own words.

Legolas jumped from the beech to the bench beneath it and then to the ground as Engwe and Amglaur escorted Dieneryn into the garden. He smiled and called 'fair morning' to them. They did not respond. Amglaur and Engwe's faces remained grim as they led Dieneryn to the bench.

"We will help you tell Thranduil in a few weeks," Amglaur replied. "After things have settled down a bit."

"And after you have had time to give this decision due thought," Engwe added. He sounded disapproving. Amglaur shot him a glare.

"No, I want to leave quickly," Dieneryn replied, leaning back against the beech and closing her eyes. The taut lines that grief had drawn on her face relaxed marginally. Legolas studied her. The sunlight seemed to shine through her as she rested in the beech's embrace. "I cannot go to Belfalas. Passing Dol Guldur would be far too dangerous. So I will have to go to Mithlond and that is a much longer journey. Summer is almost over. If I want to reach it by winter, I must leave quickly."

"Perhaps it would be best to wait until spring, in that case," Amglaur suggested.

"Mithlond!" Legolas exclaimed, taking a step towards his uncle and grandparents. "Why would you want to go all the way to Mithlond, daernana? We do not trade or have any sort of relations at all with Cirdan."

The three adults looked at him as if they only just realized he was there.

"I cannot stay," Dieneryn began, her voice heavy with sorrow and regret. But Amglaur stepped between her and Legolas.

"Go and fetch your daernaneth a nice hot tea from the kitchen, Legolas," Amglaur ordered, with a much sharper tone than Legolas was accustomed to hearing from his grandfather. "They have not yet brought anything to the dining room. And maybe get her some of whatever they have ready for breakfast. Anything hot."

Legolas looked around his grandfather to peer at his grandmother, realization dawning. His eyes widened despite his best effort to hide his alarm.

"Go on, Legolas," Amglaur urged, turning Legolas towards the door to the stronghold with a firm hand on his forearm. He leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Maybe ask for cider instead of tea, if they have any. Or mulled wine."

Legolas nodded and did as he was bid, rushing into the stronghold. He walked quickly through the family sitting room, his mind racing. Daernaneth could not possibly mean that she intended to go West. She stayed when Daeradar Oropher had been killed. Why would she leave now? She was a member of the Ruling Council. And she helped Naneth manage the household. She was too important to leave. Legolas's breath came more quickly as he dodged around the little table that normally held tea or wine and snacks for the family in the sitting room. It was indeed empty. What would Adar do if Daernaneth left? Legolas did not think that Daeradar Amglaur or Uncle Engwe's presence would console Adar much if his naneth sailed West. He knew their presence would not be enough for him if, Valar forbid, his own naneth sailed. Emerging from the sitting room and bursting into the corridor, Legolas stumbled to a halt when he glimpsed the closed door to his Uncle Aradunnon's suite. What would Galithil do if Daernaneth sailed? He was already blaming himself for so much. Losing Daernaneth would be too much for him.

The doors to the family quarters opened and two of the ellyth that worked in the kitchens came through them carrying baskets of table linens and silverware. Legolas turned to them.

"Daeradar wants someone to bring Daernana some tea, or some cider or mulled wine, to the garden. And something hot to eat," he said to them. Then he grimaced apologetically in response to his tone and his lack of courtesy for not greeting them or at least saying 'please' and 'thank you.'

But they did not seem to mind. Concern immediately clouded both their faces and they nodded. One of the ellyth handed her basket to the other. "We are running late today. I will fetch her something," she said, and hurried back out the doors to the kitchen.

Legolas slumped a little in relief. "Thank you," he called after her.

The other elleth shifted the baskets she caried to one hand and used the other to pat him on the shoulder as she passed him to continue to the dining room. Legolas watched her go, not sure what to do now that Daernanth's tea was taken care of. He wanted to speak to someone about what Daernaneth was going to do. Someone needed to talk her out of it.

"Excuse me," he said to the maid as she was about to disappear into the dining room, "do you know where my naneth is?"

She leaned around the doorway, nodding. "After she came to the kitchen to give us the day's menu, she told us she needed to spend some time in her workshop this morning."

"Thank you," Legolas said, turning toward the doors that the other elleth had just exited through.

Legolas rushed out of the family quarters, hoping he had not been too abrupt with the guard at the doors as he raced by him. Winding though the corridors, he managed to restrain himself to a very fast walk until he reached the one that led to his mother and grandmother's workshop and the seamstress's workshops. Knowing no one would be in this hall at this early hour, except apparently his mother, who would not scold him for running, he sprinted down the dark corridor until he came to a door with light coming from under it. Then he stopped and tried to compose himself enough that his mother would not be too worried. He pulled down the hem of his tunic, took a few deep breaths and opened the door.

His mother's workshop was dimly lit. Only one lamp flickered over a loom near the back of the room. Legolas frowned. That was not one of his mother's looms. But she sat behind it, pressing the weft of a complex weave down using a hand held beater. She was concentrating intently, which struck Legolas as odd. Weaving was something she normally did completely effortlessly. The light above her shimmered on her face in a very unusual way.

"Nana?" Legolas called softly, afraid he would startle her.

She looked up sharply, dropping the beater and wiping her hand across her cheeks swiftly. A smile lit her face, but it was not like her normal smile.

"Legolas, what are you doing here," she asked, beckoning him over to her with one hand while rubbing the other on the skirt of her dress.

Legolas stared at her without moving. "Nana, were you crying?"

Her smiled dimmed even more. "I am afraid I was," she admitted, pulling him into an embrace as he dragged a stool next to hers behind the loom. "I did not think I would have any company this morning, since I told the ladies that weave with your daernaneth and I that we wanted to be left alone in the workshop for the next few days."

Legolas's brows furrowed as he looked at the fabric his mother was weaving. This was Aunt Amoneth's loom, he realized. "I am sorry, nana. Do you want me to leave?" he asked, making to stand.

"Of course not," she responded and Legolas was relieved to see her smile made it to her eyes this time. She turned back to the loom and picked up the weft threads. "I am trying to finish this piece that your aunt was doing for the Men in Dale. Fortunately it is the last length of this weave that we promised them this year. It was your aunt's specialty. None of the rest of us really knew how she did this pattern. It took me a whole morning studying it to figure it out, but I think I have it. Or at least well enough to finish this piece. What do you think?"

Legolas glanced at the fabric. It looked fine to him. "It looks perfect," he said with what he hoped was an encouraging tone.

His mother leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Well, it is certainly good enough for Mannish sensibilities. It is a pity really. The Men truly loved this pattern. They paid well for it and we will not be able to provide it anymore..." Her voice nearly broke and she trailed off, looking fixedly at the loom. Then she wiped the back of her hand across her cheek again and straightened her posture. "What brings you here this morning, Legolas?" she asked looking back at him, the smile again brightening her face.

Legolas hesitated. Perhaps Nana was not the best person to burden with the news of Daernaneth. But looking around the workshop, Legolas knew his naneth needed Daernana to help finish all the cloth they traded with the Men. And Legolas knew the time to deliver that fabric, in exchange for the goods the Men shared from their harvest, was fast approaching. So he looked at his mother and then back at the loom, trying to find a gentle way to tell her what he had heard. But he could not think of any. "I heard Daeradar and Uncle Engwe talking to Daernana," he began in a quiet voice. "Daernana said she wants to leave for Mithlond quickly, to arrive there before winter." Legolas watched his mother's eyes widen. "There can only be one reason she wants to go there," Legolas concluded.

Lindomiel remained silent for a long moment before her expression changed from shocked to determined--the same expression she used when explaining to Galuon, the stubborn kitchen clerk, that he would do something in a particular way. Then, she quietly gathered her weaving materials from her lap and arranged them neatly on the table by the loom.

"You were right to come and tell me this, Legolas," she said calmly as she stood. She put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a brief hug. "I am very disappointed with your daeradar for not telling me himself. He should have, but he is trying to protect me, which is silly. I will speak to your daernana, never fear. And help her see that she cannot leave us." The smile returned to her face. "I have a surprise for her this morning. And one for your adar. I sent a messenger to Dale and explained some of what has happened to lord Fengel."

Legolas looked at his mother, not certain his father would approve of that. She did not seem to notice. Instead, she began leading him from the room, arm still around his shoulders.

"I asked him to send me some apples, if they already have some, and some butter. It is a bit earlier than he would normally send them, and we do not have any of our trade items ready to send in exchange, but I thought there was no harm in asking. This morning the messenger came back with a barrel of apples and another of pears, along with the butter. So I asked the kitchen to fix the turnovers your daernaneth likes. And Crithad and Dollion went hunting and killed a boar. So we have made the sausages your adar loves. We will have both at breakfast. I am hoping that helps a bit."

Legolas felt a bit guilty, given the seriousness of his daernaneth's situation, but the idea of the apple pies and pork sausages made his mouth water and he could not help but smile. To his surprise, his mother looked delighted by his reaction.

"There you are. That is better. Keep that nice smile for your daernaneth. It will help her to see it. And if you and your cousins can spend a bit of time with her, that would be even better. It might seem silly to you, but there is something wonderful...refreshing being around you children."

Legolas tried not to roll his eyes as he looked sidelong at his mother.

"I know. It would be a tremendous help to me if you and your cousins could plant the dill seeds for me today. I simply do not have time and they need to be planted. If you could persuade daernaneth to go into the garden and help you, it would do her some good. Will you try that?"

"Of course, nana," Legolas said. He did not want to make matters worse by admitting it, but he was more than just a little worried, not only about his daernaneth, but now about his naneth as well. Anything he could do to cheer either of them up, even a bit, he was very happy to do.

*~*~*

"Lindomiel needs the help, Arthiel. Daernaneth is not able to do anything right now. And Lindomiel... you know my naneth might as well have been her sister, as close as they were. But Lindomiel is too busy to take any sort of break to properly mourn her. There is no one else to do the household duties. She only wants you to help her a bit until Daernaneth is recovered."

Galithil stood with his back pressed against the closed door to his room, his eyes tightly shut. He would have put his hands over his ears if he thought doing so would block out the sounds of his brother's discussion with his wife in the next room, but he knew it would not.

"I know Lindomiel is mourning Amoneth, Dolgailon. So am I," Artheil answered. "And I know there is no one else to help her, since your daernaneth is mourning your adar. And I know I have no choice but to help Lindomiel. But let us be clear on one point: Lindomiel does not need just a little help. Your naneth was Lindomiel's full partner in the management of this household. They split those duties fairly evenly and that is a large responsibility--one that I know nothing about and one that I honestly have no desire to learn anything about. I want you to support me in persuading Lindomiel that she will need to train someone else to help her with these duties eventually."

There was a long silence after that statement and Galithil could almost see his brother's lips pressed together and his brows drawn in disapproval.
 
"When you married me, certain duties came along with those marriage vows, Arthiel..." Dolgailon began, with a very gentle tone.

Galithil spun around, yanked open the door to his room, and marched out into the sitting room. "Fair morning," he muttered without looking at either his brother or his sister-in-law. Dolgailon was not destined to have a fair morning if he intended to remind Arthiel of her duties to the realm. Arthiel had very firm ideas of her own about how she could best serve this realm. She was a forester and an increasingly accomplished one. She had persuaded her father to allow her to leave his woodworking shop to pursue that ambition and she had not abandoned it when she married Dolgailon. Galithil did not think Dolgailon had any hope of changing her mind now. And the ensuing debate, which was certain to be replete with reminders of his mother and father's death, was something Galithil simply could not bear to hear. He could not imagine how Dolgailon could bear to argue it.

"Fair morning, Galithil," both Dolgailon and Arthiel said to his back as he stalked past them. "How are you this morning?" Dolgailon added.

"As well as can be expected," Galithil answered as he pulled open the door to the outer hall. That was a phrase he had heard Uncle Thranduil use recently. One that Galithil had decided fit the way he felt very well. He was as well as he could be after disobeying his father to do something he knew was stupid that resulted in his father's death, cousin's injury, and grave injury to one of his best adult friends who was only trying to protect him. That is to say, he was not well at all.

Ignoring whatever his brother said to him in response, Galithil stepped into the hallway and closed the door to his family's chambers behind him as politely as he could. The door snicked closed softly and he could not hear anything else from the rooms behind it.

"That is good," Galithil said quietly, both because Dolgailon's argument about duty had been firmly silenced and because he had managed to behave in at least a marginally acceptable manner until he had been able to escape the company of others. Doing that was more and more of a challenge of late.

Galithil stood with his back to this door and thought about what he should do. It was still a while until breakfast, apparently. He could hear the servants only now beginning to lay the table. Normally, he would go into his cousin's room and awaken him. Galithil flinched away from that thought. Legolas had slept later than usual since they had returned to the stronghold. He had denied it, but Galithil knew he was having trouble sleeping, probably due to his wound. Galithil looked down the hall towards the family sitting room. Uncle Engwe, Daernaneth and Amglaur's voices floated softly from that room. Galithil did not want to go there. And that meant he could not go into the garden either, unless he went through Uncle Thranduil's office. A glance to that door, at the end of the hall, showed that Uncle Thranduil was already working--the King's guards stood outside the office, rather than outside Uncle Thranduil's private chambers.

Galithil contemplated that. He would never consider interrupting the King's work just to barge through his office to go to the garden. But he very much wanted to interrupt Uncle Thranduil for something else this morning. They had been home from Selwon's village for three days now, and still no one had spoken to him about how irresponsible...just plain stupid...he had been. Normally, he and Legolas would approach their fathers to apologize for any misdeed without being prompted, but Legolas was still recovering from his injury and Galithil did not want to rush him. But he could not stand the waiting much longer. He wanted to apologize. He was ready to hear Uncle Thranduil tell him how reckless he had been. He actually wanted to be punished. He hoped that paying for what he did might help alleviate even the smallest amount of the guilt he felt.

"Nothing that happened was Legolas's fault," Galithil whispered to himself, turning towards his uncle's office. "He really does not have anything to apologize for. He only needs to explain to Uncle Thranduil that he followed me to stop me." Galithil nodded once and started walking towards the King's office. "No need to wait for Legolas to help me make the apology that I owe. I should do it myself."

Galithil walked straight to Thranduil's office and, without acknowledging the guards at the door and without asking their permission, he walked between them, reached for the handle, and opened the door.

"Galithil!" one of the guards exclaimed, automatically putting his arm out to block Galithil's path.

Galithil ducked under it and stepped fully into the office. "Uncle, may I speak to you?" he asked in response to Thranduil's somewhat startled expression. He watched as the King glanced at the tall stack of papers to his left and then at the paper under his right hand.

"Of course, Galithil. Have a seat," he responded after only a slight hesitation, pointing to a chair with the quill in his hand. He laid the quill on the blotter and waved his left hand to dismiss the anxious guard that had followed Galithil into the office.

"I will take these papers to the Great Hall and finish working on them there," Hallion said quietly, gathering up the papers in front of him on the conference table and reaching for the stack next to Thranduil.

"If you have time, Uncle Hallion, I would like you to stay," Galithil interrupted him as he came to stand in front of Thranduil's desk. He did not take the offered seat. "I owe you an apology as much as I owe one to Uncle Thranduil."

Hallion and Thranduil exchanged a look that appeared to be a mixture of surprise and concern.

"Are you ready to talk about why you and Legolas went south, Galithil?" Thranduil asked.

Galithil clenched his jaw. Uncle Thranduil's tone was too gentle. It should be angry. "I am. I want to," he said quickly. "But Legolas did not go south. I mean, he went, but he did not come with Anastor, Noruil and I. He only came after us to stop us when no one...." Galithil cut himself off. He was going to say , 'When no one would believe him that I had gone south,' but then he remembered that Hallion felt guilty about that. Galithil wanted to apologize to Hallion for betraying his trust. He did not want to make matters worse by reminding him that he felt guilty. "When no one else could come after us," he finished, hoping he had covered his mistake smoothly enough.

This was hard. Much harder than Galithil had realized. His admiration for the way Legolas handled the apologies he so frequently made for himself and his cousins went up a few more notches.

"So Legolas does not deserve to be in any trouble for this, Uncle Thranduil. Everything that happened was entirely my fault. After I asked Adar if I could go south with him and he said it would be too dangerous, I promised that would not go. But I broke my word to Adar; I betrayed Uncle Hallion's trust that I would behave properly while he was taking care of us in Adar's absence; I did something stupid for selfish reasons; and my selfishness endangered not only Legolas and his daeradar when they had to come look for me, but also all the warriors in Selwon's village and the village itself when resources were diverted from the battle to protect Legolas and I. I have no excuse for what I did, because there could not possibly be one." He paused and looked down. "I know it was stupid and dangerous. I even told Anastor and Noruil that they were stupid when they told me their plans to go, and I made Maidhien promise she would not go with them." He screwed his eyes shut as a thought occurred to him. "Thank the Valar she did not try to come with Legolas. He would have never been able to stop her if she had been determined to go along. She is the reason...." He hesitated and looked sidelong at his uncle. "Maidhien is the reason I went," he almost whispered. This was the most difficult part to admit and his uncle's openly surprised and confused expression was not helping. Galithil looked at his boots to avoid seeing it. "The night before Adar left to go south, when he and I were coming in from the Green, he said he wanted to ask me a question. Maidhien had joined me to watch Adar's archery contest with Dollion...and Adar said something about Maidhien sitting under my cloak with me in the Men's camp...I guess he thought...I mean, he wanted to ask me if...." Galithil fell silent, not really certain how to describe what his father had asked him.

"He asked if you care for Maidhien?" Thranduil asked.

Galithil recognized his uncle's tone--it was the one he used in court when he was surprised, but did not want to show it. Galithil nodded, grateful that he had not had to say it. "I told him I had never thought about it. That I did not 'care for her' at all. She and I are friends, just like she and Legolas are friends or she and Eirienil are friends." Galithil sighed, and rolled his eyes to look at the ceiling. "Then Adar said something about ellyth noticing ellyn long before ellyn notice ellyth and to be careful of Maidhien's feelings because I could never reciprocate them." Saying that, Galithil looked back at Thranduil. "Because Maidhien could never be a suitable member of this family."

Thranduil stiffened and Hallion tried, but failed, to stifle a groan.

"Your adar told you that, did he?" Thranduil asked.

Galithil nodded again, trying to decide what, exactly, had finally made his uncle angry. "I told him it did not matter, because I do not care for her that way. But afterwards, I was talking to Legolas about what Adar said and Legolas said that I do fancy Maidhien. He said that Barad said I fancy her! And then I saw Maidhien the next day...the next few days.... By the time Anastor and Noruil left to follow their parents to Selwon's village, I realized that maybe I do care for Maidhien a little bit." That admission had cost him, so he again resorted to studying his boots as he hurriedly continued his explanation. "I know Maidhien's Adar has done something to earn arrest here in the capital. And I know it must be bad, because Legolas knows what it is, but he has always said he could not tell me. He said that he gave his word not to discuss it." Galithil was surprised to see, from the corner of his eyes, that Thranduil's eyebrows openly rose in response to that statement. "But I could not imagine what could be so bad that Adar thought Maidhien must be punished for it too. And when Legolas found out you were sending Dannenion south alone, he said you would not do that unless you thought you could catch him at something." Thranduil's eyebrows climbed even higher. "And I thought if I could find out what Dannenion did, maybe I would know enough to convince Adar that Maidhien could be part of this family. So that is why I went south with Anastor and Noruil. To spy on their parents and try to find out what they had done. I thought it would be worth whatever punishment Adar gave me for going south if I could just find out why Maidhien is so unsuitable. I was completely wrong. It was not worth it. I should have just asked you what Maidhien's parents did. Adar said I could ask you. But he said that several times before and then we never did ask. And you did not include me when you told Legolas, so I was afraid you would not tell me." Thranduil drew a breath to speak. "I realize that if you would not tell me," Galithil rushed to finish, "I should have accepted that there must be a reason for that. I was not thinking. I behaved like a fool and I regret it more than I can even begin to explain to you. I will do anything you require as a punishment as best as I can without any complaints, because I know I deserve it. I deserve what ever it is and more, because there is nothing I can do to make amends for the trouble I have caused this time."

There was a long silence. Galithil looked back up in response to a rustling noise. Uncle Thranduil was standing up. He came around from behind his desk and pulled Galithil into an embrace. Galithil had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheeks to keep from breaking down in tears. He refused to do anything to make it appear that he wanted or needed sympathy.

"Your adar would be very proud of your honesty and your thorough understanding of the situation, Galithil," Thranduil began.

That was too much. Galithil could not repress a sob that made his whole body convulse.

"And so am I. We need not say anything more of this,"  Thranduil finished, holding him even more tightly for a moment. Then Galithil found himself being pulled down to sit in one of the chairs in front of his uncle's desk. Thranduil sat next to him in the other chair and Hallion came to lean against the desk itself. They remained quiet as Galithil brushed the tears from his eyes and took a few calming breaths.

"Treason," Thranduil said, as Galithil wiped his hands on his leggings.

Galithil looked up, startled. He knew he had behaved recklessly and even endangered the whole village, but he did not see how his uncle could label his actions as treason.

"Dannenion and Dolwon were convicted of treason," Thranduil explained. "They employed violence against members of this family in an attempt to overthrow my rule."

"You cannot be serious!" Galithil blurted, almost forgetting the reason he had come to speak to his uncle in the shock of that news. "What violence? Surely not against you. They could not have attacked you!"

"Not me," Uncle Thranduil answered with a calmness that Galithil knew he would never have been capable of if he were discussing someone that threatened anyone he loved. "They first plotted to abduct and hold hostage your brother and Aunt Lindomiel. Then, when that failed, they made another attempt against your naneth and your Aunt Lindomiel. They rightly guessed that I would be very hard pressed to refuse any demands they made of me when those lives were held in the balance."

Galithil's jaw fell open even wider as he processed all the implications of that statement.

"Legolas only knows that they were convicted of treason and that there was some violence against this family involved. He was too young at the time that I discussed this with him for me to be more detailed than that. I may talk with you both about this in even more detail very soon, but until then, you are free to tell Legolas what I just shared with you. But this information is not for public discussion. I am trying to make Dannenion and Dolwon part of our community again. If everyone in the capital knew what they did...."

"No one would want them in the capital at all," Galithil said under his breath. "They would not want them anywhere in the forest."

"Precisely. I require your word that you will not discuss this outside our family," Thranduil said.

"You have it," Galithil responded promptly. "I promise I will not speak of this to anyone but Legolas."

"I trust that," Thranduil replied. Then his expression softened. "And one final issue. You and Maidhien have many years ahead of you to think about it, but since the subject has arisen, I will take advantage of this opportunity to say this much: Maidhien is a fine young lady, despite who her parents are. Assuming she never does anything to change my opinion of her, I would not stand in the way of your happiness if she were the elleth you chose."

Galithil looked up at his uncle. "Truly?"

"Yes," Thranduil answered with a single nod.

Galithil felt near tears again. As relieved as he was to hear that his uncle would accept Maidhien, his apparently easy acceptance underscored the pointlessness of everything that had happened. Before he had much time to think about that distressing development, Thranduil stood. Galithil quickly shoved himself out of the chair he was sitting in to stand as well. Thranduil put an arm around his shoulders and steered him towards the door. "Breakfast must be nearly ready. Go ahead to the dining room and tell Lindomiel I will be there in a moment." he suggested.

Galithil did not move. "What is my punishment, Uncle? Other than being restricted to my room. That is obvious."

Thranduil shook his head. "You are not restricted to your room or to the stronghold."

"I am not?"

"No," Thranduil said placing a hand on each of Galithil's shoulders and turning him to face him. He looked at Galithil with such sympathy that Galithil wanted to look away. But he was determined not to. He wanted to show his uncle that he would face any punishment bravely. "I am well aware of what a difficult time this is for you Galithil. I lost my adar similarly to the way you lost yours, and like you, I saw him die." It took every bit of courage that Galithil had not to squirm away in response to that. Thranduil squeezed his shoulders briefly. "I do not think keeping you in the stronghold would be in your best interest. Your Aunt Lindomiel and your brother agree with me. Honestly, what you have already suffered is far, far worse than anything...."

Galithil's brows drew sharply together and he shook off his uncle's grasp on his shoulders to take a step back and face him squarely. He saw the direction Thranduil was going in, and he did not like it one bit. "I want a punishment, Uncle," he interrupted. "I deserve one."

Thranduil frowned sadly. "You feel guilty for what has happened. Because Legolas and Tulus were injured. Because you disobeyed your adar and now he is gone and you cannot fix things with him. That is understandable, Galithil. The problem is, no punishment is going to change or fix any of those things. Learning from your mistake and not making it again--that is what you must do now."

"I deserve a punishment," Galithil repeated.

"There will be some consequences for your actions, though I have not yet decided precisely what they will be," Thranduil conceded. "Right now, you need to concentrate on healing and that is what I want you to do. Heal and become the type of elf your adar will be proud of when you face him again one day."

"That is exactly what Maidhien told me too," Galithil responded softly. "But I do not know how to do that, Uncle. I do not know how to heal after everything that happened."

"Your brother and cousins and friends and Aunt Lindomiel and I will all help you however we can, Galithil. I promise."

Galithil looked down. He did not see how anyone in the family could bear to look at him, much less help him, after everything he had done.

*~*~*

Legolas propped his chin on his elbow and opened the large, blue-bound history book he had removed from the library. With a sigh, he idly skimmed the pages of the book. It told the history of King Thingol's death in Menegroth. Legolas had read this history before. Indeed, he and Galithil read and thoroughly discussed it many years ago, the first time they saw a dwarf in Thranduil's court. But they had not been foolish enough to admit that to Master Rodonon when he assigned them time to prepare their analysis of the mistakes Thingol had made with the dwarves. If they had, Rodonon would have requested to hear their thoughts immediately and then he would have moved on to the next lesson, assigning them something they would have to concentrate on. Legolas did not feel much like concentrating on rhetoric lessons and he doubted his cousin did either.

At the moment, Galithil had an excuse to not study. He was on the training field cleaning the training weapons--a chore that he was responsible for and one that he greatly enjoyed doing. That left Legolas alone in his room. He had tried to amuse himself by pulling out his drawing materials and by poking around the pieces of a strategy game. But neither pastime held his attention, so he decided to at least glance through the text of his lesson to refresh his memory of the details of the incident. It was better than just sitting. And it was definitely better than going to the Green. Anastor and Noruil were there.

Legolas's eyes were already losing focus on the text of the book when the door to his room swung open. Legolas looked up and his spirits rose when Galithil came into view, scanned the room, broke into a grin and rushed towards the table where Legolas sat. He flung himself into the chair across from Legolas and looked at the blue-bound book. The sight of it brought a deep frown to his face.

"You must still be in a lot of pain if you decided to stay in your room to do lessons that we are already prepared for rather than go out on the Green with Eirienil and Berior," he said.

Legolas flipped the book shut. "No. Just bored. Eirienil, Berior and Brethil are with Anastor and Noruil. I do not much want to see them. I have managed this long to avoid hearing them call me a coward for hiding in a tree behind Tulus and I want to continue avoiding that conversation. At least until this cut is healed and I can fight back. Because I swear I will wallop which ever of them says that to me, no matter how angry it makes Adar."
 
Galithil tried and failed to stifle a snort.

Legolas grinned back at him. "Why are you not cleaning the training weapons? You could not possibly be done already."

The mischievous expression that Galithil wore into the room flashed across his face again. He looked down and quickly stifled it. For a moment, Galithil appeared to debate with himself. Then he looked up, straight at Legolas, with an obvious effort to maintain a somber expression. "I was on the training field and something happened...well, I found something out and I know I should probably not think it is funny, but I do. I just cannot help it."

"What?" Legolas asked, leaning forward slightly.

That was all the encouragement Galithil needed. The grin spread across his face again. "It seems," he explained with an airy tone. His amusement clearly showed through it. "That I am not needed to clean the training weapons for the next few weeks, possibly longer. The Fifth Year that was standing guard at the Gates on the day that you left...the one that would not believe you when you said I had left and did not report it when you followed me..." Galithil paused and Legolas nodded to show he knew who his cousin was referring to. "That Fifth Year is going to be cleaning the training weapons until he has had enough time to think about making better judgments," he concluded, obviously trying not to laugh outloud.

Legolas did not bother to show the same restraint. "Hah!" he exclaimed with clear satisfaction. "Good and serves him right, the fool."

Galithil leaned over the table. "And Dolgailon told him, right in front of me, that he has to repeat the entire course on properly keeping watch," he said, holding up one finger to begin enumerating the guard's punishments. "He cannot do anymore guard duty or overnight patrols until he completes the course again," he continued, holding up a second finger. "And," he held up a third finger, "that means he will finish the training program at least a year later than he should have finished. At which point Dolgailon will make a final determination of whether he is fit to join patrols," he finished gleefully.

"Good!" Legolas repeated. "He deserves it. If he did not see you leave the stronghold, which is bad enough, he should have at least told someone when I left. I made no secret of it. I rode right across the Green, for pity's sake. I cannot imagine why you would have hesitated to think this is funny. It definitely is."

Galithil looked down and the somber expression returned to his face. "It seems...wrong somehow to be laughing about anything. I do not want Dolgailon or Daernaneth or your adar...or anyone...to think that I do not grieve Adar and Naneth's loss...that I do not regret what I did. Or that I do not have the proper respect for their grief."

Legolas looked at his cousin steadily, thinking about that. "I understand that," he finally said. "But I do not think it would enter anyone's mind, even for a moment, that you do not grieve the loss of your parents. I think most people are glad to see you finding a moment of happiness amongst the pain you are feeling." He paused for Galithil's attention. "And as far as respecting others' grief, again, I understand, but I want you to know that you can act any way you want around me. Laugh if you feel like it and cry if you need to. You do not need to worry about what I will think about you."

Galithil looked down. "Thank you," he replied softly. In the silence that followed, he picked up Legolas's quill, studied its nib for a moment and then pulled out his knife to trim it.

Legolas watched him. "I owe you an apology," he said after Galithil had cut a few slivers from the quill's nib.

That caused Galithil to look at him with raised eyebrows. "Whatever for?"

"I never tried to understand why you always argue with my adar and yours about learning to hunt or getting a knife or bow or whatever weapon you are trying to persuade them to give us," Legolas explained quietly. "I always thought you just wanted the weapon to show it off. Now that I have seen the southern forest, I understand what you mean when you say that you want to fight what is happening there."

Galithil nodded and turned his attention back to the nib, "It is even worse there now than I remembered it. They need more warriors and I will be glad to be one of them. The moment I come of age."

"Agreed," Legolas replied. "Your adar was right about sending more warriors. It was horrible in Selwon's village. They need more help. The forest in the south needs protection before it fails entirely."

Galithil brows went up again. He was obviously surprised by what Legolas had said--the complete opposite of the support he normally always gave to the King's decisions.

Legolas looked away from his cousin. He already felt very uncomfortable for disagreeing so strongly with his adar's governance and he realized, after he voiced his opinion, that any reply Galithil made--whether to agree or disagree--would make him feel even more disloyal.

Galithil clearly read his discomfort. He continued trimming the nib and said nothing. After another long silence, he stopped fiddling with the quill and turned to Legolas. "I should tell you that I spoke to your adar this morning. About what happened. About going south."

"I know," Legolas replied.  "He caught me after court this morning and asked me if I was ready to speak to him also. That was why I was late to lessons."

Galithil frowned. "I did not intend to...I mean, I did not want to rush you or to leave you to face your adar alone.... It just seemed to me that I should speak to your adar by myself because you had nothing to apologize for. You were only trying to stop me. And I told your adar that."

"I know. I am not angry about it. Adar was amazingly 'not angry' too. He only asked me if I thought I had handled the situation as well as I could have. Obviously, I said 'no' and he enumerated what I might have done more intelligently. Such as to ask for Daeradar or Crithad's help to persuade Uncle Hallion that you had gone. I admitted that I was a bit panicked by the time I had determined you were certainly gone and I did not think of that."

"I wish you had. I nearly die every time I think about how close you came to being killed."

Legolas rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Adar said the same thing. I would rather get hit squarely by another arrow than see again the expression he had on his face when he said that. He did not try to hide at all how frightened he was. He told me he could barely breath when he was told I had been shot."

Galithil nodded. "That is true. I was the one who told him. I thought he might pass out."

Legolas's brow furrowed and he changed the subject again. " He told me that we had suffered enough and he was not going to restrict us to the stronghold or..." he paused and glanced at his cousin. "...well, anything else. He implied he was not going to punish us at all. He only told me to give him back the long knife I took from him," he said, gesturing to the mantle where it still sat in its sheath. "I told him I would give it to him this evening. What did he say to you?"

"The same," Galithil answered. Then he put the quill down, tossed his knife on the table and leaned forward again with a bright expression. "He also told me what Danennion and Dolwon did. Because I told him I went south to spy on them. So I know they are convicted of treason. He told me some details about their crime that he did not tell you because he said you were too young when he spoke to you about all this. But he said I could tell you and that he might tell us even more."

"What did he tell you?" Legolas asked, leaning forward himself.

Before Galithil could respond, there was a rush of footsteps and voices in the corridor outside Legolas's room.

"Goodness!" exclaimed one of the guards at the entrance to the family quarters.

"Sorry," Eirienil's voice said.

"Sorry," Maidhien echoed her.

Legolas tensed and pushed himself out of his chair just as Anastor and Noruil, closely followed by Berior and Brethil, charged into his room.

"I told you they would be in here," Anastor said, walking straight to the table where Galithil still sat and seating himself next to him without waiting for an invitation. "What they are doing cooped up indoors is anyone's guess."

"Is that your punishment? Are you restricted to your rooms?" Noruil asked as he came to stand behind his cousin.

Eirienil looked apologetically at Legolas.

Legolas shrugged to show her that he knew it was not her fault. "No," he answered shortly, watching as Anastor made a grab for Galithil's knife, which was still lying on the table. Anastor glared at Galithil when he quickly snatched it up and shoved it in the sheath on his belt.

Deprived of the knife, Anastor tugged the book at the end of the table towards him by its cover. He opened it and frowned at the pages, flipping through them by shoving them with the heel of his hand.

Legolas winced. "Be careful! That is very old."

"So is this, I bet," Noruil said with an admiring tone. He was standing next to the fireplace and Legolas felt a surge of panic when he looked over at him. He was inspecting the long knife.

"Be careful!" Legolas repeated, as Noruil pulled the knife fully from its sheath and brandished it at an imaginary opponent.

Anastor jumped up from the table with an excited exclamation and was pulling the knife from his cousin's hands before Legolas could open his mouth to protest.

"Put it back," Legolas demanded, following after him.

Anastor ignored him. "This is a really good knife," he said, waving it in front of him. "Very light and well balanced. Nice reach, too, for a long knife." He made a sweeping cut in front of him. It was enough to make Legolas jump back. Anastor and Noruil laughed at that.

Legolas clenched his jaw and snatched the knife's sheath from Noruil's hands. "Put it back. Now!" he repeated, holding the open end of the sheath towards Anastor.

Anastor smacked the sheath away as if it were a sword and leveled the long knife's blade a few inches from Legolas's chest. "Make me," he replied, wearing the smirk that Legolas had, on numerous occasions, fantasized about about removing from Anastor's face with a good punch.

Legolas made no effort to prevent his hands from balling into fists now, but he did automatically step back and to the side several inches. "That is really stupid, Anastor," he said when the knife tracked his movements, remaining leveled at him.

As he spoke, a chair scraped across the stone floor and rattled as it nearly toppled. Legolas looked over his shoulder to see Galithil charging towards them. Legolas started to shake his head to signal his cousin to stay out of it. This was already a dangerous enough situation without Galithil's temper adding to it. But before Legolas could say anything more, a sound from the hallway caused all the children to look towards Legolas's open doorway. The sight Legolas saw there froze him in place.

Thranduil stood framed by the doorway with an openly horrified expression on his face. The sound they had heard was apparently Conuion snapping his fingers. In the time it took Legolas to blink, the captain of his father's guard appeared next to him and the two guards at the end of the hall had taken Conuion's place next to Thranduil. When they looked into the room and saw the knife pointed at Legolas, they immediately stepped in front of the King. Conuion grasped the hilt of the long knife with his left hand and twisted the weapon downward so forcefully that Anastor cried out as he hastily released it. Legolas's mouth fell open slightly when he saw Conuion's right hand grasped the hilt of the sword on his belt.

"Take it easy!" Anastor protested, shaking his wrist.

"He was only fooling around," Legolas added quickly. "He meant no harm."

Conuion turned to him and grabbed the long knife's sheath from his hands. "This is not a toy, Legolas. This is a weapon," he snapped as he thrust the knife into its sheath.

Legolas made no reply to that. The fact that he had just been caught apparently playing with the weapon he had stolen from his father was not lost on him. He glanced at the doorway. His father still stood there immobile, either too shocked or too angry to speak. Neither boded well. Legolas's heart beat so quickly that he felt a little sick.

"Legolas knows it is not a toy," Anastor said, disdainfully.

Legolas looked pleadingly at Anastor, hoping to silence this unexpected defense. The last thing he needed was for Anastor to make matters worse.

"He used it to protect Tulus from the orcs that would have killed him," Anastor continued.

Legolas's gaze darted involuntarily to his father, afraid to see his reaction to that revelation. Thus far, they had managed to avoid speaking of the details of their involvement in the battle. That detail was certain to shock Thranduil. And in fact, his eyes had widened at Anastor's words.

"And Galithil used Tulus's sword," Noruil added. "We have been trying to tell you both how impressed we were with that, but the two of you have been locked up in your rooms."

"I suppose they will be locked up even longer now," Anastor continued, now facing Thranduil and speaking with the bitter tone he used whenever he referred to or addressed the King. "Even though they did not do anything wrong. We were not playing with the knife. We were only looking at it and everyone overreacted. But I supposed that should not be a surprise. Legolas's family always overreacts to everything."

Legolas turned a glare on Anastor. It was true that he did not do anything wrong. This was, as usual, Anastor and Noruil's fault. And despite the fact that Anastor's words were the closest he had ever come to standing up for Legolas, it was extremely unlikely that they would do him any good, given the manner of their delivery.

"Shut up, Anastor." Maidhien whispered fiercely.

To Legolas's relief--and surprise--his father smiled at her. Stepping between the guards that still stood in front of him, he patted Maidhien on the cheek as he crossed into the room. "I appreciate you explaining that you were not playing with the knife, Anastor," he said with a quiet tone. "Your handling of it could have easily been misinterpreted as play. Or worse. Surely you can understand how...disturbing it was to walk by Legolas's room and see you pointing the knife at him."

Anastor faced Thranduil, openly exasperated, his hands on his hips. "Do not be stupid," he scoffed. Legolas closed his eyes and groaned, but Anastor continued without pause. "Obviously I would not have really jabbed him with it. Noruil and I might like to tease Legolas a bit, but we would never do anything like that. You must be a fool to think..."

"Please be quiet, Anastor," Legolas finally interrupted. "Or at least mind your tone."

Anastor cast Legolas a disgusted glare. "I am trying to stick up for you."

Legolas smiled at him sourly in response. "Thank you, but please stop now."

Anastor rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he did remain silent.

Legolas turned to his father. "I apologize, adar," he said quickly. He started to explain that he had not been the one to take out the knife, but he found himself not completely willing to blame Anastor, even though it was his fault, after he did try to stand up for him. That hesitation surprised Legolas and left him at a loss for how to continue, so he looked at his father mutely.

"Me too," Anastor muttered, still looking at the ceiling.

It was the poorest excuse for an apology that Legolas had ever heard--one that, had he uttered it, would have earned him more, rather than less, trouble. But since it was the first apology he thought Anastor was likely to have ever offered willingly, it was definitely an improvement, if only his father would be able to recognize that. Somehow Legolas doubted he would.

"I accept both of your apologies," Thranduil replied, to Legolas's unconcealed astonishment. The look on his face made his father smile again. "I trust I will not see either of you playing with weapons again?" he asked, holding out his hand for the knife. Conuion turned it over to him, still scowling at Legolas and Anastor.

"No adar," Legolas answered immediately.

"No," Anastor agreed, this time studying his boot as he scuffled it around on the floor.

"Good," Thranduil responded. And to Legolas's amazement, he made an effort to smile at both Anastor and Noruil.

Noruil took his expression as encouragement. "I was just asking Legolas if that knife was old. It looks old," he said to Thranduil, eyeing the sheath and obviously hoping Thranduil would let them look at it again.

"It is," Thranduil responded. He made no move to unsheath the kinfe. "It was made for my naneth’s daeradar in Menegroth's forges during the First Age. He died defending King Denethor with it and it passed to my naneth. She used it to fight the dwarves and elves that invaded Menegroth. She gave it to me after I lost my sword when the Noldor attacked us in Sirion, and I fought with it until the war against Sauron."

Legolas looked at his father with surprise. He knew he had also fought the dwarves and Noldor in Menegroth and he had always assumed that he had fought with that knife, since he had fought on the Dagorlad with it. He did not know his father had wielded his own sword in Menegroth. After all, during those battles, he had only been a little older than Legolas was now.

Anastor and Noruil were also surprised by Thranduil's words, but for different reasons. "Elves invaded Menegroth? Noldor attacked you in Sirion? I thought Menegroth was a city of elves and the Noldor were elves. You cannot be saying that you fought battles against other elves!" Anastor said.

"That cannot be true and it is a terrible thing to say!" Noruil agreed.

"It really is," Maidhien whispered from where she stood near the door, both her hands covering her mouth.

Thranduil frowned in response to her expression and held out his arm. Maidhien came over to him and gratefully allowed him to put his arm around her shoulder and draw her against him. "I take it that your adars taught you nothing about Beleriand, then?" he asked with a more gentle tone.

Maidhien shook her head. "He says that we only need to know the history of this forest."

"Well, in Beleriand, in the First Age, I fear that elves did fight two battles against other elves," he replied. "I saw them both with my own eyes. I fought in them."

Anastor stared at Thranduil with his mouth open.

"You attacked other elves?" Noruil asked, still completely disbelieving.

"No," Thranduil answered quickly. "They attacked us. We defended ourselves."

"Will you tell us the story?" Anastor begged, showing the most enthusiasm he ever had for anything Thranduil said.

"No, thank you for your interest," Thranduil replied. Legolas frowned along with Anastor and Noruil. He had long wanted to hear his father's version of those tales. "But those are memories I do not care to relive. Legolas, you know those stories, I believe?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes, adar. We read them with Master Rodonon."

Thranduil turned back to Anastor. "Legolas can tell you about it properly then." Legolas recognized that phrasing implied he was not to glorify those battles, but describe them as the atrocities that they were. He doubted Anastor and Noruil would recognize the difference. "I will leave you to it," he said, giving Maidhien's shoulders a squeeze before moving to leave the room.

Legolas hesitated a moment and than took a step to follow his father. "Adar, you were not much older than Galithil and I when you fought the dwarves in Menegroth. And you were obviously well enough trained for the battle and you had your own sword, apparently. So that means you were training with weapons at our age. Can Galithil and I train also?"

From the corner of his eyes, Legolas saw Galithil turn and stare at him.

"No, you may not," Thranduil answered without pause, as he turned to leave the room.

Legolas frowned at his father's back as he disappeared through the doorway.

"You did not honestly think that would work, did you?" Galithil asked softly after they heard Thranduil's office door open and shut.

Legolas shrugged. "Well he just said he fought with his own sword in Menegroth. He was our age then."

Galithil laughed. "You will never convince your adar to allow us to train with a sword before we are old enough to enter the training program, just like everyone else. And even then--not all parents allow their children to enter it until they come of age and it is their own choice to make. I bet Uncle Thranduil will be one of those parents."

"Almost certainly," Anastor agreed. "He does not value the warriors. He believes in pulling back villages and letting the forest fall to the Shadow," Anastor said.

Legolas turned to him, fists clenched. He was in no mood to hear Anastor say that.

Anastor, as usual, did not seem to notice or care about the reaction he caused. "You could spy on the warriors on the training field with us," he rushed to suggest, gesturing at Noruil and Galithil. "We spy on them and then practice what we see."

Noruil nodded enthusiastically. "The more people we have to practice with us, the better it would be. You should come with us, Legolas."

Legolas looked between them, hardly able to believe he was considering that suggestion.

"Do not do it, Legolas," Galithil's voice said in his ear.

Legolas raised his eyebrows and looked at his cousin. Galithil was going to play the voice of restraint?

"Adar caught me watching with them once," he continued. "He said he would not allow me to join the training program until I came of age if he caught me again. I have not gone with them since, because I am sure he truly meant it. And he said it in front of Dolgailon. You know Dolgailon would enforce Adar's wish if he caught us."

Legolas forced a laugh. "I would not do it. Adar would be furious, and we have surely pushed our luck with him enough for the rest of the Age," he replied, trying to return his cousin's serious gaze unflinchingly.

*~*~*

Adar/ada--Father/dad
Naneth/nana--Mother/mum
Daeradar/daernaneth--Grandfather/grandmother
Elleth/ellyth--female elf/elves
Ellon/ellyn--Male elf/elves

Chapter 2: Arts of persuasion

The Great Hall bustled with happily distracting sounds. Normal sounds. Petitions were over and the council meeting that normally followed them was in full swing. Since Aradunnon avoided those meetings as often as possible and Dieneryn sometimes abandoned them to help Lindomiel with household duties, it was possible to ignore their absence as the voices of Legolas's father and uncles argued over trade or supplies or what ever else had them occupied this morning. In fact the discussion as a whole was especially easy to ignore since Legolas, Galithil and Berior were engaged in their own quiet debate as they copied letters and court records at the scribe's table to the far side of the Hall.

"I tried asking him again, Berior," Legolas whispered, glancing at the head of the table to make sure Isteth had not noticed they were talking. She still did not trust them not to make mistakes if they talked while doing their copying. To be fair, she did not trust the adult scribes to talk and copy either. But her insistence on complete silence was the only part of the copying duties that Legolas and his cousins really found annoying.

"Did you try telling him all that about feeling safer if you could have a little training? That sounds like something that might work," Berior whispered back.

Galithil shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Ignoring him, Legolas nodded. "I told him that, but he said that since we were not ever going anyplace dangerous again, I did not need to worry about feeling safe."

"Did you remind him about the spiders? Those were not so far from the stronghold. We could always run into danger, even if we do not go to places that are known to be dangerous. A little training with a sword, or at least training with a bow beyond what is needed for hunting, would be a good idea," Berior countered.

"I started to say that," Legolas replied. "But Nana said that Adar did not want to hear such things right now and that I would be smarter not to mention them if I did not want to be restricted to the Green."

Berior winced dramatically in response to that threat. They all knew how lucky they had been to avoid that fate more than once recently.

"And then Adar said he was working on an idea that would keep all of us perfectly safe all the time," Legolas continued. Both Berior and Galithil stopped writing and looked over at Legolas with nervous expressions on their faces. Legolas nodded. "I know. That does not bode well at all."

"I thought you said your adar was not going to punish you. That he said you had both suffered enough," Berior whispered out of the side of his mouth while focusing on the paper in front of him and returning to his writing. Isteth had looked over at them when the scritching of their quills had stopped.

"Adar's idea of punishment and our idea of punishment often differ," Legolas replied softly. "But the end result is: Adar would not even agree to listen to my arguments to begin weapons training. He would not hear anything about it. Nana agreed to help me try to talk to him about it, but she said we would have to wait until Adar had forgotten about us going south and me being wounded."

Berior tried to stifle an incredulous laugh and ended up snorting loudly. "In other words, he will never listen to you."

"Probably not," Legolas agreed, as Isteth stood and walked behind them, circling the table and peering closely at their work.

She continued hovering behind them until the council meeting ended. Wooden chairs scraped against the stone floor as Legolas's uncles stood, gathered their materials and chatted before slowly going their own ways. Finally, Isteth went back to the head of the table, followed by Berior's loud sigh, to supervise her daughter's work. Eirienil was not copying that morning. Instead, she sat at the head of the scribe's table with a stack of book signatures in her lap and a threaded needle in her hand. For a long time now Eirienil had been responsible for combining pages into signatures, but this was the first time her mother had allowed her to bind the signatures into a book. She had spent the morning painstakingly making precisely placed holes in the signatures. Now she was beginning to sew them. Legolas and Galithil paused in their copying to watch.

"That looks really hard," Legolas whispered.

Galithil nodded, still watching Eirienil. "So much so that I do not feel even slightly inclined to tease her."

"Wise decision," Legolas replied. "I think she would stab you with that needle. It looks long. And sharp."

"That is certain," Eirienil chimed without deigning to glance at either of them.

Galithil laughed and returned his attention to the paper in front of him. He had written a few more lines on it when Thranduil's voice cut over the chatter in the room.

"A moment please, Dolgailon, before you leave. I would like a word with you about who will succeed your adar as Troop Commander."

Legolas instantly tensed and turned away from watching Eirienil to study Galithil. Galithil bent closer over his copying work, his posture far stiffer than it had been a moment ago. Legolas sighed. This was one occasion when he would not have minded being asked to leave the room. It would certainly be better for Galithil to be excluded from this conversation. But it had been years since he and his cousins had been asked to leave the Hall--years since Thranduil had appeared to censor the topics the council discussed while the children were in the Hall. Still, this was not something Galithil needed to hear.

Engwe apparently did not appreciate this topic of conversation either, given that he spun on his heel to stalk away the moment the term 'troop commander' had fallen from Thranduil's lips. Legolas raised his eyebrows at that reaction and he saw Dolgailon do the same. They both followed their uncle Engwe with their eyes until he slammed the doors of the Great Hall behind him. Dolgailon looked very much as if he badly wanted to follow Engwe's example. Instead, he squared his shoulders and reseated himself at the council table next to Thranduil, while saying quietly that he was certain Engwe would make a fine Troop Commander and he would certainly support him anyway he could.

Legolas returned his attention to his copying, writing as quickly as he could. He only had one more copy to do after the one that he was working on. A quick glance to Galithil and Berior's stacks showed they were nearly done as well. Galithil was speeding through his work so fast that Legolas feared it would be sloppy enough to prompt Eirienil's mother to demand that he redo it. Silently, Legolas reached over to Galithil's stack and took his remaining copy. "You can carry what we have done to Hallion's office when you are done," he said when Galithil paused to look at him.

Galithil smiled appreciatively. In the background, Thranduil was saying something about Engwe being a fine logistician. Legolas finished the letter he was copying and laid it on the stack in front of him, placing a blotter on top of it. When he looked up, he noticed Berior had stopped copying and was listening intently to Thranduil. His eyes were bright with amusement. Legolas scowled and nudged his cousin hard with his foot. His father's conversation with Dolgailon was very serious and sad, not funny.  As Legolas turned the letter he had taken from Galithil around so he could read it, he heard his father saying something about the importance of tactical skills. Then he heard him say bluntly that Engwe was sorely lacking in these skills. Legolas's eyebrows shot up and, like Berior, he focused on his father's voice, barely restraining himself from turning around to look at him.

"I am done," Galithil said, interrupting Legolas's concentration. He wiped his quill on the blotter, capped his ink, and reached to take Legolas and Berior's stacks of papers. He placed them on top of his own and straightened them while rising from his chair. "I will meet you in the library for lessons," he said.

"Me?" Dolgailon exclaimed from the other side of the room, his voice several octaves higher than normal.

He spoke so loudly that Galithil fumbled the papers in his hands and they fluttered back down onto the table. Eirienil let out a sharp squeal. Dolgailon's outburst had caused her to jump and stab herself with the needle. She stuck her finger in her mouth and turned to glare at her older cousin.

Legolas turned to look at him as well. Doilgailon was gaping at Thranduil incredulously.

"My lord, I do not have adequate experience for such a position," he protested. "I have less than one tenth the years of experience that captains like Morillion and Ostarndor have."

Galithil looked at his older brother for a moment with obvious sympathy. Then he leaned over the table and hurriedly tried to gather up the papers that he had dropped. Legolas reached to help him.

"How could I possibly command their respect, given my comparative inexperience?" Dolgailon continued.

"Your experience in the patrols is perfectly adequate, Dolgailon," Thranduil responded. "You have captained all of them, except the capital's guard. And I was very impressed with the example of your command that I just saw during the battle in the southern villages. Moreover, you have experience working with my council, something none of the other captains have done, regardless of their years."

"Save that one battle, it has been over 30 years since I have served in the patrols, my lord," Dolgailon countered. "I do not know anything about current state of the defense of this realm. How can I possibly...."

"Then you can spend a few days reading the most recent communications that your adar had with the patrols and catch up in that manner," Thranduil replied, cutting him off. He sounded openly annoyed, and that caused Legolas and Galithil both to look at him. He very rarely allowed his temper to show in council meetings and never had spoken thusly to Dolgailon, as far as any of the children knew. "If you feel you must, you can spend some time visiting the patrols, though I prefer for you to limit your absence from the capital as much as possible, for Galithil's sake."

Galithil turned away again and shuffled the stack of papers he was trying to straighten more forcefully than necessary in response to that.

Dolgailon, apparently undaunted by the King's temper, was laughing bitterly. "Have you ever seen my adar's office? No one could find anything in it except for him. I will never find those reports to read them. But Engwe is already familiar with the current state of defense, he also has experience working with your council and he is much older and more experienced than I am."

Galithil stopped shuffling the papers and looked at the desk.

"But I am not appointing Engwe to be Troop Commander. I am giving you that appointment. It will be your job to find some way to bring yourself up to date," Thranduil replied. His tone indicated the discussion was over.

Unfortunately, Dolgailon's posture seemed to imply that he was not done protesting.

"I can help you find things in adar's office," Galithil offered, before Dolgailon could continue. Legolas turned to stare at him. "I copied for him. I know where he put everything." He spoke quietly, as if he had been speaking to Legolas, Berior and Eirienil, and he still looked at the table. But his voice carried. "Adar would have agreed that you would be the better Troop Commander, Dolgailon," he added.

Legolas exchanged a look with Eirienil and then both children appeared to study the work in front of them. Legolas did not want Galithil to see the shock and pity that must certainly be plainly written on his face. Galithil had loved spending time with his father in his office. When he copied orders for Aradunnon, it was extra copying that he did willingly because it was 'his' time with his adar. Since their return to the stronghold, Galithil had avoided even walking down the corridor that led to the Troop Commander's office. And that had required them to take a long, circumlocutious route to their lessons. But they all had been more than willing to take it, to spare Galithil. Now he was volunteering to help Dolgailon find things in that office?

Thranduil smiled at Galithil and gestured for him to join them at the table. Dolgailon, looked up at the ceiling and shook his head.

"Tell Master Rodonon why I am late," Galithil whispered to Legolas before he trotted over to the council table.

"This is settled," Thranduil said, in the voice everyone knew meant he did not intend to argue further.

Legolas watched as Dolgailon offered Thranduil a 'I will do my best, my lord" along with a bow before he led Galithil from the room with a hand on his shoulder, pausing halfway between the table and the door to whisper something in Galithil's ear that made Galithil scowl. When they disappeared through the doors of the Hall, Legolas turned back to face Berior and Eirienil.

"Dolgailon was being silly," Berior said, as he picked up his quill again. "He is the most responsible person in this family. Everyone knows that and respects him for it. He will make an excellent Troop Commander."

"He certainly has a personality that people can respect more than they respect Engwe's," Eirienil added in a whisper. "But Dolgailon is right that he will need records to bring himself up-to-date and uncle Aradunnon's office is a mess. Galithil may know where the most recent reports are, but nana and Rodonon always said the Troop Commander's records should be better ordered."

Berior snorted. "Maybe you should ask your naneth if you can help Dolgailon and Galithil order those records then?"

Eirienil made a face at him. Then, she turned to her mother. "May I help Dolgailon and Galithil, naneth?"

"It will be a very large job, so you must consult Rodonon and I, but you may help if the King allows it. I will go ask him," she replied.

Berior rolled his eyes as Isteth stood and walked to the council table.

"Only you would have taken that suggestion seriously, Eirienil," he said, watching Isteth. Then his eyes widened. "Woah! Look at the stack of papers uncle Hallion has for uncle Thranduil! More papers than there are trees in the forest," he exclaimed.

Legolas looked over his shoulder to see Hallion arranging several tall stacks of papers around the King as he spoke to Isteth.

"Dolgailon has nothing to complain about compared to uncle Thranduil. What a huge amount of work! Dolgailon better be glad uncle Thranduil survived that battle. Better to inherit the position of Troop Commander than King from the looks of it," he said, laughing at his little joke.

Legolas tensed, first at the suggestion that his father might have been killed, and then at Berior's last words.

"Actually, I think it is Legolas that needs to be thankful for that," Eirienil said quietly, while looking steadily at Legolas.

Legolas could feel her gaze but found himself unable to return it.

"True!" Berior said, giving Legolas a playful kick under the table. His laughter faded when he saw Legolas's expression.

*~*~*

Thranduil hurried around the corner and strode down the corridor towards the open library door, rushing to quickly retrieve the papers he needed to finish his morning work. Bright light and children's voices spilled out the door. Galithil was summarizing the history of the Silmaril in Menegroth. Thranduil scowled. He very much meant what he said to the children yesterday that those were memories he did not care to relive. Thranduil entered the library, nodded to Master Rodonon and the children, and stepped amongst the stacks of books and papers to track down the materials he needed to reference. As he scanned the shelves, he wished for the hundredth time that he and Hallion could quickly catch up with the backlog of work that had accumulated when Thranduil was away from the capital. Given the piles of reports and petitions and correspondence that they had read through over the last few days, it would seem they should be close to being caught up. Unfortunately, he knew they were not. What they really needed was someone who could be trusted to help Hallion summarize the paperwork and do the required research. Dieneryn often helped with those tasks in the past. And so did Engwe. But Thranduil knew it would be a long while before his mother was working again and he did not begrudge her the time she needed to recover. Engwe had been preoccupied managing Aradunnon's duties. So Hallion was hopelessly behind and Thranduil was left to help them catch up by finding his own research materials.

"Nicely done, Galithil," Rodonon said, his voice muffled as Thranduil wandered down the next row of shelving. "Now tell me how you would have advised Lord Thingol so as to avoid the disasters caused by the dwarves and the Noldor."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows at that. It was quite a request. If only there had been something that might have been done, he thought as he pulled a likely book from a shelf far above his head and flipped it open to inspect it.

"We originally thought the most obvious mistake the King made was to trust the dwarves to work inside Menegroth and to go alone into their smithies," Galithil began. "But when we researched it, we realized the dwarves had smithies inside Menegroth for the entire Age without causing trouble and most of the weapons the warriors of Doriath used were made in those smithies. And Hallion told us the King had gone several times to appraise the dwarves' progress with the Nauglamir without seeing any signs of danger. So apparently there was no reason for the King to have thought the dwarves might be a threat. And we also learned from Hallion that Thingol did not go about inside Menegroth with guards. He only had guards with him in battle or outside the protection of Doriath or in ceremonial duties, such as when he was holding court. So, it is probably not fair to think he acted wrongly by going alone to their smithies."

"Well done," Rodonon interjected, as Thranduil moved further along the stacks. "Legolas, continue."

"Well, once we decided he could not have reasonably predicted that going alone to the smithies was dangerous, we were at a bit of a loss as to what his advisors or warriors might have done to prevent his death at the hands of the dwarves. So we decided to work on the Noldor's attack on Menegroth for a while. We studied how Dior distributed the available warriors to protect Menegroth and Doriath, and it seemed to be a logical arrangement, though we do not know enough about tactics to say for certain. So we did not see how he might have reordered them to better prevent the attack on Menegroth. But what could have prevented that attack for certain was to simply give the Silmaril to the sons of Feanor when they demanded it. When we realized that, it occurred to us that if Thingol had given the jewel to Maedhros when he demanded it from him, rather than keeping it and having it set in the Nauglamir, he would not have aroused the dwarves' greed and therefore he would not have been killed. So we deem the best advice his advisors could have given him would have been to surrender the Silmaril."

"And what arguments would you have used, as his advisors, to persuade..." Rodonon began to ask, but he was cut off.

Thranduil poked his head out from around the shelves, brows furrowed in response to his son's statements. "Beren suffered the pits of Sauron--he lost his hand and his life--to recover the Silmaril," he interrupted. "Thingol's daughter, Dior's mother, faced both Sauron and Morgoth himself to take it. And you would have Thingol or Dior surrender it uncontested to the sons of Feanor?"

Rodonon crossed his arms across his chest. But he said nothing. Instead he only turned back to Legolas and Galithil, one brow raised and looking at them expectantly. With effort, Thranduil remembered this was a lesson, an exercise. It was not the Great Hall. He strove to soften his features, not doubting that he looked cross. He knew his tone had been openly angry. So, he was somewhat surprised to see Legolas and Galithil only sit a little straighter, perhaps more stiffly, in their chairs.

"It was only a jewel, uncle," Galithil said. "No jewel is worth the destruction of an entire realm, even if it was bought by the death of two people, no matter who those people are. Could you honestly look the captains of this realm in the eye and order them to give their lives to protect a jewel?"

Thranduil found himself unable to answer that question.

"And neither Thingol nor Dior had any true claim to it," Legolas added. "Beren and Luthien surely suffered a great deal to get it, but there was no need for them to have done so. Thingol had no right to name it as the price he set for Luthien. The sons of Feanor stated clearly that they alone claimed the Silmarils that Morgoth stole from their father..."

"The sons of Feanor were evil. When they began killing anyone that stood in their path to get those jewels, they earned the curse of the Valar and forfeited any right..."

"All the more reason not to involve oneself with the Silmarils," Legolas countered, showing no sign of backing down. "Thingol named that Silmaril as his price intending for Beren to die since he had given his word to his daughter not to slay Beren outright. That was a wicked trap designed to accomplish his ends while still feigning to preserve his honor. According to the records we read, Melian advised him against it because it was wicked and because it was dangerous to entwine oneself in the fate of the Silmarils. She was right."

Thranduil opened his mouth to argue, but Rodonon cut him off. "You were required to find some legal precedent to back up your arguments. Did you find one to back this argument?"

Legolas nodded. "When the sons of Feanor returned from Valinor, they claimed lands belonging to Thingol, saying they had fairly won them from the servants of Morgoth in battle. Thingol ordered them out of his lands, judging that they had no right to take what had been stolen from him by Morgoth, no matter that they had been the ones to drive the orcs out. By that same argument, Thingol had no right to keep the Silmaril that Morgoth stole from Feanor, no matter how Beren and Luthien suffered to retrieve it. He cannot use an argument when it serves him and ignore it when it does not. That is not just."

"Well argued, Legolas," Rodonon said quietly.

"Indeed," Thranduil conceded quietly, leaning back against the shelf and studying Legolas and Galithil.

"How would your argument change," Rodonon asked, regaining control of his lesson, "if Thingol had needed that jewel, not to decorate his person set in the Nauglamir, but rather to sell for desperately needed armaments or foodstuffs for his people?"

"He still has no right to sell what is not his," Galithil replied promptly. "But he did have the right to demand that the sons of Feanor recompense Beren and Luthien for their valor in retrieving it."

"And if they refused, but still demanded the jewel?" Rodonon asked.

"Better to give it to them than try to sell it," Galithil said. "Who would buy a jewel known to be claimed by someone else? Only a thief, who would be just as likely to cheat you as treat you fairly."

"Not to mention the damage Thingol or Dior would do to their realm's reputation if they behaved in such a manner," Legolas added. "How could they expect other realms, Mannish, Dwarvish or Elvish, to treat with them or aid them if they were known to deal so dishonestly? More likely that another realm would send Thingol aid willingly once they heard how poorly Doriath was rewarded by the sons of Feanor, than if they heard that Doriath had tried to rob the sons of Feanor in light of their lack of generosity."

"Again, well argued. Both of you," Rodonon said. "We will leave this lesson here and that is all for today. For our next rhetoric lesson, I would like you to begin thinking about a similar topic: Olwe's refusal to give Feanor the Teleri's ships.  I would like you to review the reasons we know that Olwe gave for his refusal and be prepared to begin discussing whether you think they were valid, given the outcome. Think about how the reasons for Thingol's refusal and Olwe's refusal differed and if that difference better justifies Olwe's decision and the outcome of his decision in your minds. Understood?"

Legolas and Galithil both nodded. "Yes, Master Rodonon."

"You may go, then," Rodonon said.

Thranduil could not hide a smile when Legolas and Galithil leapt from their seats. They were just turning to rush for the library door when Thranduil made a decision. "Just a moment, both of you," he said, preempting their escape. When they turned, with obvious reluctance, to face him, he gestured to the chairs they had just vacated and moved to take one across from them at the table. "If Master Rodonon does not mind, I would like to take this opportunity to discuss with you what I have decided you will be doing for me as a consequence of your journey to the southern realm." He watched them slowly reseat themselves, while exchanging a nervous glance. "Not to worry. I think you might enjoy this. And after hearing this lesson, it is clear that I will profit from it."

*~*~*

"There they are!" and "Finally!" assaulted Legolas and Galithil as they hopped off the bridge that crossed the river from the stronghold. Their cousins, along with Brethil, Aewen and Maidhien, rushed forward to greet them from where they had been been playing a game along the tree line. Anastor and Noruil lingered under the shade of the trees. Legolas could not really fault them. It was hot! But he grinned widely at his cousins and friends as they surrounded him, hoping their excitement could draw out Galithil a bit. Legolas was really surprised that he had not been able to elicit anything beyond grunted "mmm's" and "uh-huh's" from his cousin in response to his attempts to discuss the amazing duty his father had just given them. But then, Galithil had always seen such activities as punishments until they had done them for a while and he could appreciate all the interesting secrets they would see and learn.

"Your lessons took forever today!" Maidhien complained.

"Did you do poorly on your maths examination?" Berior asked, teasingly.

Everyone stared at Galithil when he fiddled with the closures on his tunic and said nothing.

"No, we did fine on the maths exam," Legolas responded. "But we had a rhetoric exam as well and then Adar wanted to speak to us."

"About what?" Aewen asked, looking at Galithil now with pity and understanding. "Your punishment for going south?"

"I thought you said he did not plan on punishing you," Eirienil said, also looking warily at Galithil, who refused to meet their gazes.

Anastor and Noruil sidled forward from the trees with bright expressions.

Legolas shook his head. "Not really a punishment. Just a new duty. Adar wants us to help Hallion read and summarize the petitions the court receives."

"Really!" Eirienil exclaimed with obvious jealousy.

Legolas tried not to grin too broadly. "Yes," he replied quietly, before delivering the news that he knew would send Eirienil into fits of envy. "And we will be helping Hallion research whatever Adar will need to judge the petitions and write the recommendations that Hallion provides with the summaries."

Eirienil's jaw fell open and she stared at him. Legolas could not stifle soft laugh.

"But Uncle Hallion does those summaries at night when everyone else is on the Green," Berior interjected. "If you do that with him, that means you will not be able dance under the stars with us."

Legolas shrugged. "Adar said at first, when we are learning what needs to be done, we will have to work with Hallion at night and that does mean we will be late coming to the Green after dinner, if we get to go at all. And he said since this is a consequence of going south, he thought that was fair. But after we learn how to do it, he will have Hallion pick the work he wants us to do and we can do it whenever we chose, provided we get it to Hallion in time for him to check it before the petitions involved must be judged. So we will not be working at nights forever."

Eirienil folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. "You will see some interesting information doing that," she said. "I would love to be able to do it with you."

Legolas nodded his agreement, not bothering to hide his excitement. "Persuade Master Rodonon to tell Adar that you are as good at your rhetoric lessons as we are--because you certainly are--and maybe he will let you. I think Adar decided this would be our new duty after hearing our exam today."

Eirienil raised her eyebrows and looked at him thoughtfully in response to that.

"What is rhetoric?" Noruil asked quietly from where he was standing with Anastor a few paces behind Legolas.

Legolas turned to face him and saw Anastor make an exasperated face.

"Speaking or writing to persuade people. Debate," Legolas responded.

"The reason why Legolas and Galithil are such smart mouths," Anastor added, stepping between Noruil and Legolas. "You are far too interested in stupid tasks. What are we going to do today?" he continued. "For fun. Before we have to go home and help Adar fix his stupid traps."

"That is their punishment for going south," Maidhien whispered. "They have to help Adar every evening after dinner for the rest of the summer. The whole summer! No dancing on the Green for them either," she said with glee.

"Shut up, Maidhien," Anastor snapped at her.

Maidhien made a face at him. "You should just be glad you are not locked up in one of lord Thranduil's cells," she shot back at him.

"Shut up, Maidhien," Anastor repeated with even more vehemence.

"She is right," Noruil said with a nervous laugh. "Adar told me he might ask Thranduil to borrow one of his cells to keep us safely locked up until we learned some sense. He said he had asked Thranduil for one before and Thranduil said he sympathized with the request."

Legolas started to laugh at that, debating with himself whether he should tease Anastor and Noruil by agreeing his father might allow it, or whether they might use that to argue his father was cruel, thereby taking all the fun out of the jab.

"It would be no more than we deserved," Galithil said, interrupting Legolas's thoughts.

Legolas's gaze darted to his cousin and he blinked when he saw Galithil was completely serious. "Galithil," he began, reprovingly. But Anastor cut him off.

"Now you can shut up, Galithil," he scoffed.

"People died because of what we did, Anastor," Galithl replied, turning on him. "And more people were gravely injured. Do you think that requires no payment?"

"What are we going to do for fun?" Maidhien asked, interposing herself between Galithil and Anastor. She faced Galithil, taking each of his hands in one of hers. "We could go ask if we can shoot at the targets on the archery range..."

"Adar told you to stay away from my sister, Galithil," Anastor interrupted, reaching to pull Maidhien's hands from Galithil's grasp.

Maidhien practically growled at him for ruining her attempt to distract them all from an argument.

But Berior was beside her in an instant, also stepping between Anastor and Galithil. "Better than that. We should try to figure out how to shoot from the trees," he said, cutting off Maidhien's response to her brother.

Legolas appreciated the effort to avert a fight between them, but he doubted Galithil wanted to practice archery. And besides, his bow and Galithil's were currently in his adar's room, completing the punishment they had earned when they went so far west along the Path that they ran into spiders. "I am not allow to yet," he answered quickly, patting his side where he had been wounded.

Berior frowned.

"We could go ask for a horse and take turns riding it," Aewen suggested quickly, doing her part to prevent Galithil and Anastor's confrontation from exploding. "If we stay on the Green, we do not need anyone's permission."

"Except permission to take the horse from whoever is in charge of the barn," Maidhien said. "And remember, it will not be Tulus, since he is still recovering. So they might not let us have a horse."

"Who ever it is, they will let Legolas have one, if he asks," Aewen answered.

Maidhien looked ready to concede that point, and Legolas was drawing a breath to say he was not so sure he could secure a horse after he took one to go south. But Anastor interrupted them both.

"I have an idea," he said, stepping around Aewen and Maidhien to stand right in front of Legolas. He looked at Noruil and gestured to the tree line. Noruil grinned, nodded and scurried off towards the trees.

Legolas could not help but follow him with his eyes.

"We could practice sword work," Anastor said as Noruil pulled two wooden practice swords from the ferns at the base of one of the trees. He held them up long enough for Legolas to get a good look at them and then he hid them again.

"Where did you get those?" Berior asked, taking a few steps towards Noruil.

Anastor caught him by the arm and spoke to Legolas without looking at Berior. "We could go spy on the warriors in the training fields and then use those to practice what we see them doing. Noruil and I do it all the time. The swords class on the field at this time of day is the Second Year class, but we can show you enough of what they teach in the First Year class that we could still practice the Second Year's moves. We have been watching the sword classes for years now."

Legolas felt his blood rising a bit in response to Anastor's condescending tone.

"We should do it, Legolas," Berior said, still eyeing Noruil with excitement.

Legolas said nothing, surprised at how tempted he was to do something he would have never considered risking before. He and his cousins were absolutely forbidden to go near the training fields because they had no business there and because they might easily be injured by stray arrows. Everyone in the capital minded a safe perimeter around the training fields.

"Do not even think about it, Legolas," Aewen intervened. "You have been shot by one arrow. Surely that is enough for you!"

Legolas scowled at her in response to that blunt reminder.

"We do it almost every day and we have never been shot," Noruil argued back. "We have a good place to watch."

"Do not be a fool Legolas," Aewen said when Legolas still appeared to be considering it. "What do you think your adar would say if he caught you playing with swords..."

"We play with swords all the time," Brethil interrupted. "Pretend ones. Sticks we use as swords. The King has seen us do it a hundred times. He has even joined us in our little battle a few times. I will go if you will."

"Playing with swords," Eirienil repeated, taking up her friend's argument and raising her voice to speak over Brethil, "that were obviously stolen from the training program."

That got Legolas's attention. He looked at her and then back at Anastor, who was rolling his eyes. "DId you steal those from the training fields?" he asked.

"Of course not," Anastor answered.

"Then where did you get them?" Aewen shot back. "I do not believe for a minute you could carve the wood that well or fit together the blade and the hilt that perfectly. And even if you could, you definitely would not have that much spare cloth lying around your cottage to pad the blade."

Eirienil nodded. "That is a real training sword from the training program and the only way you got it was by stealing it because it is brand new." She pulled on the shoulder of Legolas's tunic, trying to get him to look at her. "It is a really hot day. We should go swimming," she said, naming one of Legolas's favorite pastimes.

"That is a wonderful idea," Maidhien chimed in.

"It is not a brand new sword," Anastor answered, refusing to be deterred. "I have used it plenty of times to practice with. And I did not steal it. Did I Galithil?"

"No, you did not," Galithil said quietly. It was the only response Galithil had made to the idea of watching the warriors on the training fields so far.

"Then Galithil stole it for you," Eirienil said. "Shame on you, Galithil."

Galithil frowned, but said nothing.

Meanwhile, Anastor was tugging on Legolas's other sleeve for attention. "You asked your adar if you could practice, so you obviously want to. We brought these to show you. We will practice with you and let you use one of these if you want."

Legolas looked from Anastor to the trees. From the corner of his eye, he saw Anastor gesture for Noruil to show the sword again. Noruil held one up plain view. Legolas had no doubt that Eirienil was right and those swords were stolen from the training program. He was equally certain that Galithil had stolen them, and that truly shocked him, because he knew how much his cousin loved the responsibility of cleaning and mending the training weapons. He knew he should go tell Dolgailon that Anastor and Noruil had them, but he also knew he would never do it. And for a moment he allowed himself to believe he would not tell because of how much trouble Galithil would be in if he did. But in his heart, he knew that was not true. The truth was that he really wanted to take Anastor up on his offer to let him use that sword. But Legolas had not forgotten what Galithil said Aradunnon threatened would be the punishment for spying on the training fields--that they would not be allowed to join the training program until they came of age, rather than at the age of 46, the earliest the King's law allowed. Of course, Legolas had no doubt that they would not be joining it until they were fully of age anyway, now that it was solely up to his father to decide when they could join. That had been made perfectly clear by his father's refusal to even listen to any arguments regarding the possibility of him training sooner.

"I will go with you," he heard himself say.

Berior and Brethil whooped in excitement while Eirienil, Aewen and even Maidhien cast him dismayed looks.

"We are going swimming," Eirienil said. She took Aewen's hand and started off towards the river.

Maidhien hesitated a moment and then, with a long look over her shoulder, followed after them.

Legolas could not believe his eyes when Galithil walked in the direction of the river too.

"You are going with the ellyth?" Anastor exclaimed in his most mocking voice.

Galithil did not respond or even look back at them.

"Shut up, Anastor," Legolas said, balling his fist.

Anastor took a step back, one hand up. He said nothing.

Legolas ran after his cousin.

"You seriously will not come with us?" he whispered, stepping in front of him to keep him from walking away.

"I told you yesterday. I promised my adar I would not do it anymore. I am not breaking my word to him," Galithil said, standing a bit taller as if he expected an argument.

Legolas only nodded. "I understand. You will not tell on us, will you?"

"Of course not," Galithil said. "But you should not do it and you know it."

Legolas frowned. "I have as much right to be ready to fight for this realm as Adar did to fight for Menegroth."

Galithil looked at him a moment before looking away. "Be careful," he said.

"I will," Legolas promised. Then he turned back to Anastor. "Lead the way."

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum
Elleth/ellyth -- Female elf/elves
Ellon/ellyn -- Male elf/elves

Chapter Three: Guilt

Legolas sat in his place at the dining room table and made a conscious effort not to pick at the embroidery on the hem of his tunic. Except for an occasional word or phrase from his aunts and uncles, all was quiet at the table as the family waited for Thranduil and Lindomiel to come to breakfast. Normally the children would be chattering about what they had done the day before and what they planned to do that day, but when uncle Celonhael had asked Berior what he had done the day before, Berior's response consisted of an excited grin, followed by a panicked gasp and a quick look at Legolas. Eirienil had been kind enough to volunteer into the silence that she and Galithil, specifically she and Galithil, had gone swimming. Uncle Celonhael's raised eyebrow had required some sort of explanation, and so Legolas found himself saying that they had quarreled a bit over what they all wanted to do yesterday and so had gone off to separate activities. Mercifully, Uncle Celonhael had not pressed him further. Now Legolas was sitting quietly at the table, trying not to look at his aunts and uncles, for fear of calling attention, and therefore more questions, to himself. He was also trying not to look pointedly at other things, like the ceiling or the murals on the dining room walls, for fear of making it obvious that he was trying not to look at them. And he was trying not to fidget, because he was certain that if he did, it would be very obvious to everyone present exactly how guilty he felt for the half truth he had just told.

Galithil sat next to Legolas, as he did every morning. Unlike most mornings, this morning Galithil sat silently, with his head bowed and studying his hands in his lap. When Galithil continued in this posture after Uncle Celonhael asked them about their activities the previous day, Legolas had felt a bit annoyed with his cousin. Galithil could have at least chimed in and said 'we went swimming' rather then letting that long pause drag on until Eirienil filled it with too much detail. He could at least have deigned to join Eirienil to describe their swim. That would have satisfied Uncle Celonhael and prevented the uncomfortable silence they were all enduring now.

With a long, quiet sigh, Legolas realized he was wishing Galithil would do something--cover their misdeeds with half truths--that Legolas told Galithil not a week ago he would no longer do. That was hardly fair.

But every time Uncle Celonhael or Uncle Golwon glanced down the table at him, Legolas was certain they suspected something.

How did Galithil do this so often? How had Galithil sat so calmly at the dining table so many times in the past, knowing they had done something they would get in trouble for, and not been caught simply by looking guilty? Legolas was certain he must look guilty. He felt guilty. More even for the half truth he had just told his favorite uncle than for going with Anastor and Noruil to spy on the training grounds.

Legolas started a bit when his aunts, uncles and cousins' chairs scraped on the stone floor as they stood. Legolas looked at the door to the dining room and then quickly down at his empty plate and he hurried to follow their example. Fortunately, his mother and father were too distracted as they entered the dining room to notice his odd behavior.

"Where are Adar, Naneth, Engwe and Dieneryn?" Lindomiel asked. Her gaze surveyed the breakfast foods the servants were beginning to uncover on the sideboard as well as the empty seats at the table. She appeared pleased with the selection of foods available, at least.

"Dieneryn did not care to come to breakfast this morning, so your parents and Engwe are dining with her in her room in order to persuade her to eat something," Aunt Ollwen responded quietly.

Lindomiel's brow creased and she hesitated before she took her seat, as if considering going to speak to her mother-in-law rather than settling at the table.

"And where are Dolgailon and Arthiel?" Thranduil asked, seating himself and gesturing for everyone else to do the same.

"Arthiel has gone with Master Ruscil to see about healing the trees that the large spider colony was nesting in," Lindomiel answered when no one else appeared to know the answer. She took a tray of sausages from a servant and put one on her own plate and two on Thranduil's before passing the plate to Legolas. Legolas silently took a sausage and passed the plate to Galithil.

"And Dolgailon went with her?" Thranduil asked. His tone was sharp.

"Not that I know of," Lindomiel replied.

"Dolgailon is in...his office," Galithil said, stumbling between saying 'Adar's office' and 'his office.' He passed the plate of sausages to Aunt Isteth without taking one. "He is reading reports and said he would get some bread and cheese from the kitchen for breakfast."

"Well just because he is starving does not mean you must," Aunt Isteth whispered to him. She placed a sausage on Galithil's plate and gave him a stern look when he tried to refuse it.

Watching this interchange with approval, Legolas did not see his father's expression, but he gathered it was cross from the fact that Berior was staring at him with wide eyes.

"I will speak to Dolgailon after breakfast," Thranduil rumbled. "He needs to at least take his meals with the family. We all benefit from each other's company at this time."

"Indeed," Lindomiel murmured. She had signaled for a servant to hand her a spare plate and she filled it with cinnamon apples from the plate that was currently being passed around the table. "Take these to Dieneryn's room and ask my adar to see to it that she eats them. And bring her some of the bread I made last night as well," Lindomiel said to the servant. She nodded, bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried out of the dining room with the plate. Lindomiel turned to Legolas as she handed him the plate of apples. "How did your daernaneth seem yesterday when you and she planted the dill seeds?" she asked.

Legolas let the plate come to rest on the table between them, wincing as he remembered his promise to plant the seeds with his daernaneth. "I forgot to ask her again," he admitted, looking sidelong at his mother.

Lindomiel frowned.

"We are supposed to plant seeds with daernana?" Galithil asked, reaching for the apples. "You did not mention that."

Legolas sighed and turned to face his cousin. "I said that I forgot about it," he replied quietly with clipped tones. "I am sorry, nana. I will plant them with her today."

"We all will," Galithil added and Legolas saw Eirienil nodding with an earnest expression.

"I expect you to keep that promise," Thranduil said sternly. "But I will bear some of the blame for their forgetfulness, Lindomiel" he added. "He and Galithil were fairly excited when I told them about their new duty yesterday after their lessons. They were anxious to go outside and tell their cousins and friends, no doubt."

"New duty?" Lindomiel echoed.

Legolas tried not to look surprised. In his experience, his father thoroughly discussed all 'consequences' that he earned with at least his mother, aunt Amoneth and uncle Aradunnon, if not the entire family. This was the first time he had not, as far as Legolas knew.

Thranduil described the duty he had given to Legolas and Galithil.

"That will have them working late at night when they should be on the Green," Lindomiel observed, citing the same objection Berior had the day before.

Thranduil did not reply and Legolas guessed he did not care to appear to argue about his decision publicly.

Galithil saved him the trouble. "We do not mind. We want to do it. And it is only until we learn how to make the summaries and do the research ourselves. Then we can do it any time." He looked to Legolas for support and Legolas gave it eagerly.

"We do want to do it, nana," he agreed, nodding his head with a sincere expression.

"Very well," Lindomiel conceded. "And did you also tell them about your plans for the guards?" she asked.

"Guards?" both Legolas and Galithil repeated with very much the same surprised tone and expectant look to Thranduil that Lindomiel had used a moment before.

Thranduil scowled. "No, I did not. I wanted to speak to the guards I had in mind so I could have all the details in place and therefore be able to tell the children everything at once. But as it is..." he trailed off, allowing irritation to creep into his tone. Then he turned to Legolas and Galithil. "I mentioned I was working on a plan to keep you safe. The method my adar used when I was only slightly older than you was to assign a guard to watch over me. Of course, at the time we were being pursued by those who would have killed us to take the Silmaril from lady Elwing, but our situation now is only slightly less dangerous, depending on where you find yourselves and where the Enemy finds itself. And you will eventually both need guards. So assigning them a little sooner rather than later will not hurt."

Legolas stared at his father for a long moment before turning to Galithil, expecting to see shock and outrage in his cousin's expression as well. He nearly groaned out loud when he saw Galithil was only returning Thranduil's gaze stoically. Galithil's new-found obedience was growing annoying. Legolas then looked quickly from Eirienil, who was trying not to openly laugh (no help there), to Berior. His younger cousin had the appropriately horrified expression on his face.

Legolas carefully schooled his features to a neutral facade and turned back to his father. "Adar, Galithil and I are accustomed to guards," he said with a reasonable tone. "Berior and Eirienil are also. But Brethil and Aewen will be very uncomfortable if an adult is with us constantly. And Anastor, Noruil and Maidhien." He made a face. "I do not even want to think how they will react. So, the guards you assign are not going to follow us everywhere, all the time, like the they follow you, are they? Dolgailon's guard does not follow him always. Only when he leaves the capital."

"Provided you are safe, Legolas, I do not mind at all if Anastor is less willing to spend time with you," Thranduil answered. "I will expect your guards to have you in sight whenever you are outside the stronghold."  His tone indicated there would be no room for argument.

Legolas looked at his mother to judge the possibility of an appeal through that avenue. Lindomiel was looking at him with understanding and perhaps even a little pity, which made Legolas frown. But she clearly was not going to save them. Legolas squared his shoulders and turned back to his father, determined to make the best of this situation that he could. "Who will you assign?" he asked. "Not Belloth," he hurried to add. "He is cross."

"Not Belloth," Thranduil conceded readily. "Who I will assign is something we will discuss this afternoon after your lessons, along with some other details," he said, turning his attention to his meal by cutting a bite of sausage.

But Legolas was not ready to abandon his negotiation just yet. "Adar, if we are to have guards with us whenever we are outside the stronghold, can we go out on the Green at night even when you and our uncles cannot come? And ride a little further down the Path? And camp by the river with Brethil without you or Crithad?" Legolas was aware that Galithil and Eirienil were now staring at him while Berior was giggling. He shot Berior a squelching glare and looked back at his father steadily.

Thranduil chewed the bite of sausage slowly while appraising him. Legolas did not flinch. As he swallowed, Thranduil glanced at Celonhael and Golwon. Celonhael nodded readily. Golwon's jaw clenched, but he did finally shrug. Thranduil turned to Lindomiel.

"It seems fair," she replied, with a smile and wink at Legolas and Galithil.

Legolas tried not to show even a hint of victory yet as Thranduil studied him one moment more.

"You still need permission to take a horse down the Path or to camp," he finally answered. "And you must tell me or your naneth or one of your aunts or uncles if you go to the Green at night, but otherwise, yes, to all three questions and to the implied one--you may do with your guard whatever you are allowed to do with us. But understand this, and understand it very clearly: when it comes to your safety, your guard speaks with my authority. If he says something is too dangerous, you will not argue. You will immediately obey him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Adar," Legolas answered, smiling.

"Yes, Uncle," Galithil echoed.

Legolas expected to see Galithil mirroring his triumphant expression--that was a considerable concession to win from his father--but instead his cousin was focused on his breakfast.

*~*~*

Thranduil stalked down the long corridor to the Troop Commander's office, mentally preparing stern words for Dolgailon. Conuion's sword slapped against his leg as he hurried to follow him. The noise seemed to punctuate Thranduil's mental arguments. He simply did not have time, amongst his other duties, to remind Dolgailon of the importance of his presence at family meals. Dolgailon should already be aware of how his very young brother needed him at the moment.

The door to the Troop Commander's office was open and Thranduil swept into it, immediately scanning the room, which was normally piled with stacks of papers and maps and armaments that Aradunnon mostly used to distract himself when he should have been working. It was often difficult to find the room's occupant amongst the clutter. So when Thranduil was fully into the room, he came to a complete stop and blinked. Then he took a step back into the hall and looked down it again, quickly counting the doors on either side of him to make sure he had turned into the correct office.

"Did you need to speak to me, my lord?" Dolgailon said, calling his attention back to the office.

Dolgailon's presence surely indicated that Thranduil was in the correct place. That being true, Thranduil could not believe his eyes. The office was...pristine. Most of the papers had been removed. The remaining ones, mostly maps, were now neatly stacked in labeled shelving that stood to one side of the...Thranduil raised his eyebrows. That was a very nice desk. Beautifully carved. Had that always been the desk that was in this office? On the desk were more neat stacks of paper, arranged in rows of military precision--they looked like ranks of troops marching into battle. About half of them were folded into signatures.

"What is this?" Thranduil asked in a quiet voice, his harsh words forgotten for the moment. He was looking at the stacks of papers that had somehow earned the honor of remaining in the office.

"The last year's worth of reports and orders," Dolgailon replied. "Northern, Eastern, Western and Southern patrol reports," he continued, indicating one stack for each patrol. "Orders back to them, in the same order. These are the reports and orders from the guards: Capital Guard and Path Guard. And finally, the reports from the training program."

Thranduil nodded, studying them briefly. Then his gaze turned to the wall opposite the shelving. Dolgailon had selected one large map of the entire forest and several more detailed maps of the various patrol regions to hang on that wall. Thranduil could see notes, troop positions and enemy positions, written on them in charcoal pencil. These notes were current, as far as Thranduil could tell.

"I have read these reports," Dolgailon said. "And the orders Adar sent..."

Thranduil's gaze darted back to the stacks of paper. They were tall and there were many of them. "You have read all these reports?" he interrupted, looking sharply at his nephew.

Dolgailon frowned slightly. "Yes," he replied cautiously. "And I would like...."

"You have read, in one day, all the reports and orders on this desk as well as clearing this office?" Thranduil interrupted again.

This time Dolgailon drew himself up to his full height. "Yes, my lord, I have. I have detailed notes and thoughts that I would like to share with you, as well as several questions."

Thranduil dropped into one of the chairs in front of the lovely, carved desk. He could never have remained focused for long enough to review that much material in such a short amount of time. The very idea of trying left him exhausted. Then a thought occurred to him. He might have found the determination to conquer such a task immediately after he had returned to Greenwood following the war in Mordor--when he felt overwhelmed with the new position he had been thrust into, quite unwillingly, and was determined to bring it under control. Thranduil looked up at Dolgailon, who was still standing, and tried to prevent the sadness and pity he felt from reaching his eyes. He doubted that he succeeded.

"Sit down, Dolgailon. Tell me what questions you have for me. Though I must warn you: if you have read all those reports, you certainly know more than I about the state of the defense of this realm. I will be depending on you to summarize this information for me. So I am not certain what questions I can answer."

"My questions are more procedural, my lord." Dolgailon replied. The stiff tone was gone from his voice as he sat. In its place was one that made it clear Dolgailon still felt somewhat overwhelmed. It reminded Thranduil of a student asking for clarification on an assignment from his tutor. "For example, when I have decided how I would prefer to readjust the troop levels in the various patrols now that we have largely contained the increased threat in the south, how do you prefer to be informed of my suggestions? In person? In writing?"

Thranduil looked at his hands on the arms of the chair where he was seated and tried not to laugh. He could help but smile. Even when Aradunnon had first been appointed Troop Commander, he did not make 'suggestions.' He had always treated the command of the warriors as his personal realm and Thranduil trusted him enough to leave him to it. Just as he intended to trust Dolgailon. "You simply inform me of your decisions, Dolgailon," he replied. "Your adar despised writing reports, so he spoke to me about his plans and had his assistant write up the report that we filed in the court record. You may communicate with me however you wish, provided I am kept abreast of important developments."

"You do not want to at least approve the orders I send?" Dolgailon asked.

Thranduil shook his head. "There is no need. I expect you to discuss major developments with me before you act upon them. For, example, your adar informed me immediately when he learned about the increased presence of the enemy on the southwest boards and he conferred with me on his plans for managing the most recent battles in the south. But other than that, there is no need to do anything more than inform me of what you are doing."

"As you wish, my lord," Dolgailon replied quietly. "And when I appoint officers? The same? I inform you of my choices?"

Thranduil nodded. "Please keep me informed of any changes in the command structure."

"Very well, Then I should tell you who I intend to name as captain of the training program, in my stead," Dolgailon said. He did not meet Thranduil's gaze, but rather shifted some of the papers on the desk. "I do not believe Pathon or Hebor have the command experience to coordinate the training program. Tirithion is too short tempered and Langon," Dolgailon smiled. "Well, I am afraid of Langon myself. I would not make him the captain of the training program and force the poor First Years to report to him. So, I believe the best choice is Glílavan." Dolgailon looked directly at Thranduil, and pressed his lips together for a moment before continuing. "So I am naming him as captain of the training program."

Thranduil drew a long breath and released it slowly, giving himself time to make sure he would respond to this announcement as he should. He very much did not want to contradict Dolgailon's very first decision, even if he very much disagreed with it. Long experience had taught him which battles to fight with the people he depended on to help him rule the realm and which battles were simply not worth fighting. Appointing Glílavan as captain of the training program would keep him in the capital and under various people's watchful eyes. Therefore, this was not a battle worth fighting.

"I encourage you to use this appointment as a further opportunity to judge Glílavan's character, Dolgailon," he replied after a moment.

Dolgailon raised his chin. "And I encourage you to do the same, my lord," he responded firmly.

Thranduil smiled at that. "There, that is better. I appointed you to this position because I expect you to be able to hold your own in an argument with me as you have proven you can do on many occasions."

Dolgailon relaxed, leaning back in his chair and grinning, still a little timidly. "Well here is a topic that will spark our first argument then, if my spies have supplied me with accurate information," he replied with a teasing tone.

Thranduil's eyebrows rose in response to the suggestion that Dolgailon had spies.

"Before I can decide if the new threat in the south is truly contained and, if so, how I should best to reorder the patrols, I would like to visit at least the camps of the southern and western patrols and speak with their captains in person. I can get the answers that I need in that manner in one conversation rather than through a series of letters that take weeks to carry back and forth," he hurried to explain when Thranduil's jovial expression soured.

"My original purpose for coming to this office was to inform you that I expected you at family meals. And you want to travel between the patrols? Your brother needs you close for the time being, Dolgailon."

"Who do you think my spy is, uncle?" Dolgailon responded. "Galithil rushed here before he went to his copying duties specifically to warn me that I was 'in trouble' for missing breakfast this morning and dinner last night. But he knows of my plans to visit the patrols. I discussed it with him yesterday when he and Eirienil were helping me organize this office and draw those maps," he said, gesturing to the maps hanging on the wall. "Of course I wanted to be sure that he would be able to manage if I were gone for a few weeks, so I spoke to him about it. He assured me that he could."

Thranduil frowned. "Galithil is very anxious to please at the moment, Dolgailon," Thranduil countered with a gentle tone. "And I think he is especially eager to please you. But he is still a child and this is the first loss he has known. He has no real idea how to manage it or himself at the moment. He needs family to guide him and support him."

"Galithil, and Legolas also, understand duty and sacrifice a great deal better than you give them credit for, uncle." He held up his hands when Thranduil's expression grew openly irate. "I learned long ago not to get between you or Adar and your management of Galithil and Legolas, but Galithil will not become a tool you use to prevent me from doing my duty as I see fit. I told you when you made this appointment that I would have some learning to do. The best way for me to accomplish that is by visiting the patrols. Anything less would endanger the defense of the realm by delaying important troop deployment decisions. So," he paused and took a breath. "I am informing you of my decision that, tomorrow morning, I will leave for the camp of the southern patrol. I will keep my absence from the capital as brief as possible."

Thranduil glared at Dolgailon for a long moment, regretting that he had so glibly told him moments before that he should expect to 'inform' him of his decisions. But unfortunately, his argument that he could get information faster in person than through letters made sense. Thranduil smiled again. A sour smile. "Very well, Dolgailon. You have my leave to go. But before you depart, you will do as I would have expected your adar to do: you may explain to Lindomiel why you will not be present at family meals to lend your support to the family in this difficult time."

Dolgailon looked slightly panicked at that. "But, she will certainly understand the importance...just as you do... Surely there is nothing to explain, really."

"She will understand, of course she will. But explaining it will still be unpleasant and I see no reason why I should face that battle when it is yours to fight," Thranduil replied, still smiling.

Dolgailon crossed his arms. "Very well. I will tell her."

"Good," Thranduil said, standing.

Dolgailon stood as well, still scowling at his uncle.

Thranduil laughed at his nephew's expression. He looked so much like his father, standing there glaring at him. But Aradunnon would have stubbornly remained seated to make his irritation clearer still. Thranduil' smile faded. He missed his brother's arrogance very much. He nodded to Dolgailon and made to leave the room before Dolgailon could ask what had caused his sudden change in mood.

But Conuion stepped into the room from where he had been standing in the door frame at the same moment. "I need to inform you of a new member of the King's Guard, Dolgailon. And I might as well take advantage of the opportunity to do it now: Tulus will be rejoining the Guard," he said.

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder, curious to see how Dolgailon would react to news that would have sent his father into fits of rage. Dolgailon wore a surprised, but clearly delighted expression. Thranduil nodded to himself. Dolgailon and Tulus were old friends, just as Dolgailon and Tulus's son, Glílavan, were old friends. Sometimes, change was good.

*~*~*

"Tulus!" Legolas exclaimed. His voice echoed in the empty Great Hall. He looked with near panic between Tulus, seated across the table from him, and his father, who was seated to his left. Galithil was doing the same, with a very regretful expression. Legolas shook his head and focused on his father. "Adar, Tulus and I are friends. We have been friends for as long as I can remember. I do not ever want to see..." he hesitated. "I cannot watch him make the sort of sacrifice that he made in Selwon's village adar. Not again."

"Which of my guards would you prefer to see make that sort of sacrifice for you, Legolas?" Thranduil countered quietly.

Legolas's brows drew together so sharply it hurt. "None of them."

"Then you understand that it matters not at all if I am your guard or someone else is, Legolas," Tulus responded. "Since someone must be, it might as well be me. It must be a difficult burden to know that others will sacrifice themselves for you. But I chose to do it. All your adar's guards chose to serve as they do because they believe that this realm is a far safer and better place with your family in it."

Thranduil nodded. "Do you imagine that I like to see Conuiön, who has been my guard and my friend since the First Age, stand between me and the enemy so that I may better order a battle? I certainly do not. But every time we go into battle, Conuiön and I know that is exactly what will happen," he added. "It is my duty to make sure that I respect Conuiön's sacrifice by not taking reckless risks with my life."

"And it is my duty," Conuiön interjected, "to make sure the King can survive taking any risks he judges are necessary to best defend this realm."

Legolas looked at Conuiön, who was seated next to Tulus at the table. The captain of the King's Guard returned his gaze steadily. Legolas looked down. "You actually want to do this Tulus?"

"I cannot think of any greater honor the King might entrust me with," Tulus replied.

Legolas released a long breath without looking up. "Very well. I will certainly not do anything that will recklessly put Tulus in danger," he said quietly.

Thranduil nodded and Legolas expected him to dismiss them. Instead, Thranduil turned to Tulus with a grim expression.

"There is a bit more that you both need to know, before I can accept this appointment," Tulus said with a very grave tone. So grave that it made Legolas's heart pound a bit harder. "Indeed, I insisted that you be told this, because not knowing it puts you in danger if I am to be your guard."

Legolas's eyes widened and he sat a little straighter.

"I agreed," Thranduil added. "This will be difficult for you to hear, given how close you have always been with Tulus. But if you do not know, that lack of knowledge could be exploited later. And I think you are old enough now to hear this."

Legolas and Galithil exchanged a nervous glance before looking at Tulus expectantly. The fact that Tulus opened his mouth several times without finding the words to speak did nothing to calm them.

"I am very ashamed of what I must tell you both," he finally began in almost a whisper. Then he drew a long breath. "The King tells me that you are aware of the crimes that Dannenion and Dolwon committed."

Legolas nodded, unable to imagine where this could possibly be going. Next to him, Galithil did the same.

"I was one of their co-conspirators. I was convicted of treason along side them," he said.

Legolas stared at Tulus, so stunned that he was not capable of any reaction at all. After staring for several moments, Legolas suddenly realized that he was so shocked that he was not even breathing. He drew a sharp gasp of air. "I do not believe that," he finally managed, speaking as he blew out that same breath. "Why would you do that? And if you did such a thing, why would you have been such a friend to my cousins and I afterward?" Legolas laughed incredulously. "Why would you do that and then step in front of an arrow that would have killed me?"

Tulus pressed his lips together while trying to formulate an answer. It was completely obvious how greatly it pained him to discuss this. And even focused on Tulus, Legolas could tell from the corner of his eye that his father was very tense as well.

"People do stupid things at times," Tulus began. "thinking, often for stupid reasons, that they are justified." Legolas saw Galithil wince and look away. "I was a member of lord Oropher's guard. And I served your lord father's guard." Legolas's mouth fell open. "But I...insulted your lady mother, so the King rightfully dismissed me. I was angry about it. And stupid. I did not want to admit to myself that I deserved what had happened."

"The fact that Aradunnon dismissed Tulus from the ranks of the warriors entirely made the punishment all the more bitter to swallow," Thranduil interjected. "I would have approved of that decision, at least in part, since I dismissed Tulus for insubordination due to the way he reacted when I confronted him about what he had said about your naneth..."

"What did he say about nana?" Legolas asked. He had been with his mother hundreds of times when they retrieved horses from the stable. Tulus had never been anything but completely proper and polite towards his mother.

Now Thranduil sighed and looked at the ceiling for a moment. "Your naneth and I were not married at the time. We were courting. She and I went for a swim in a secluded spot. Some people might indeed have believed, perhaps correctly, that we did not behave in an entirely decorous manner. But she was young and saw nothing untoward in what we were doing."

"But l gossiped about it," Tulus interrupted. "I was the guard assigned to the King that day." Then he grimaced. "I assure you that I have learned better than to repeat such an action while guarding you."

Legolas waved his hand dismissively. "I am not currently courting anyone to worry about it," he said. "What does all this have to do with what Dannenion and Dolwon did?"

"I would have approved of Tulus being temporarily dismissed from the warriors," Thranduil answered, returning to his explanation. "But I would not have approved of a permanent dismissal, had I known about it. Unfortunately, I never followed up on what had happened to Tulus. I was still learning how to manage my duties as King. And Aradunnon was still learning how to manage his as Troop Commander. And Tulus went forgotten by us."

"Not entirely forgotten," Tulus said quietly. "I asked several times to join a patrol and lord Aradunnon would not hear of it."

"True enough," Thranduil agreed.

Tulus shook is head. "The point is, I was quite bitter. I moved away from the capital and joined a village's guard and tried to make a new life for myself as I could. Then the Shadow came over the forest, and whenever such things happen, there will always be those people who blame the King for allowing it to happen. I fell in with them because I was still very resentful. When they gathered and spoke publicly about how the King was to blame for the forest dying and the orcs and spiders killing us, I was one of them." Tulus paused and appeared to brace himself. "And when they stopped talking and began plotting ways to remove the King, I did nothing to stop them."

"Adar told us recently that Dolwon and Dannenion plotted to abduct my naneth and Galithil's naneth and Dolgailon. Is that what you plotted with them to do? Because nana had caused you to be dismissed from the King's Guard?" Legolas asked. If that were true, he was not certain he could forgive it, even if Tulus had repented.

"No," Tulus protested immediately. "It had nothing to do with your lady mother...well, it did, of course, because she was the target, but not because I suggested it...though Manadhien surely liked to remind me that the Queen was the cause of all my troubles...but I never truly believed that. By the time things had gone this far, I knew what we were doing was wrong. I did not participate in the plot to remove the King. I just did not know how to stop it."  

"How to stop it?" Legolas repeated angrily. Then he cut himself off and tried to curb his scoffing tone. "You stop it by ceasing to participate and by confessing what you have done and what is being plotted."

"And that is essentially what Tulus did, Legolas" Thranduil intervened. "After some prompting by Aradunnon, he confessed his part in all that had happened and he named the other people involved, allowing us to put a stop to it, once and for all. And I think it is important to emphasize, before I give you the remaining details of this tale, that Tulus did not actually participate in plotting any attempts against your naneth. He did not prevent them by telling someone they were being plotted, but he did not participate in them."

"There is honestly little difference," Legolas said softly.

Thranduil frowned.

"You are correct there is not," Tulus replied. He was looking at his hands, which were clasped in front of him on the table. Clasped so tightly that they were white.

Legolas tried to remove the tension from his own posture. "You mentioned someone named Manadhien. Who is she? And what are the remaining details adar mentioned?"

"Manadhien--I knew her as Marti-- is the person who was the leader of the conspirators," Thranduil began.

"You mean Dannenion was not their leader?" Legolas interrupted. "I would have thought he was the leader."

Tulus loosed a bitter laugh at that. "That is an easy assumption given how he acts now. And he was a leader, along with another elf named Fuilin. But they were not the leader. Manadhien was. She was the person who was constantly stirring trouble. She would remind people of anything, or worse, anyone that they had lost due to the King's actions or supposed inactions. And she was the one that had contacts with the Dark Men..."

"Dark Men?" Legolas repeated. He suddenly felt very cold. Next to him, Galithil had also stiffened in his chair. Surely Tulus could not be referring to the same Dark Men Legolas was suddenly reminded of. He looked at his father. "No!" he exclaimed when Thranduil nodded.

"The attack that you witnessed against your naneth and aunt Amoneth was the attack Manadhien planned to abduct them," Thranduil confirmed.

"Himion and Candirith died in that attack!" Legolas exclaimed.

"Himion was killed. Candirith was executed by the Men," Galithil corrected, his voice shaking. "We could see it from where we were hidden."

"Dannenion and Dolwon are responsible for that?" Legolas asked. Then he slowly turned to look at Tulus. "And Tulus is too!"

"Tulus swore, and other witness confirmed, that he was not party to the planning of that, or any other, attempt," Thranduil reminded them firmly.

"But if he had told someone about what was being plotted, Himion and Candirith might still be alive," Legolas retorted.

"Indeed so," Tulus agreed.

Legolas looked at him and some of the anger he was feeling left him when he saw Tulus's expression.

"Candirith was my nephew," Tulus said softly. "The only remaining family I had in Middle Earth."

Legolas found he could not respond to that. Next to him, he saw Galithil close his eyes and bite back a sob. Thranduil heard him. He stood and took a step towards his nephew. But Galithil looked up and shook his head once, a stoic mask firmly in place.

"That is a horrible tale, twisted by misplaced hate and blame. I will not be party to it," Galithil said.

Legolas looked at his cousin sharply, thinking that he meant he would not associate further with Tulus. Legolas frowned. They had been friends with Tulus their entire lives. Even after hearing all he had said, Legolas was not certain it was enough to make him unwilling to speak to Tulus. After Tulus had saved his life. that seemed a poor way to repay him. And besides, Adar had apparently forgiven him entirely, if he had allowed him back in the guard. And Tulus did say he did not participate in the plotting.

While Legolas's mind was weighing these thoughts, Galithil leaned across the table and placed his hand over Tulus's hands. "It seems to me that you have already paid sufficiently for anything you might have done, Tulus. And it seems the King believes that too, if you are to rejoin his guard. That is good enough for me. So, for my part, I am willing to forget everything I heard here today. You have never been anything but my friend and I would like it to stay that way."

From the corner of his eye, Legolas saw his father, still standing behind them, squeeze Galithil's shoulder. Tulus did not look up or respond to Galithil's statement. He appeared unable to do so. He only nodded, gaze fixed on the table before him. Legolas drew a deep breath. "Tulus I hated hearing all this," said softly, not hiding the grief that he felt. "But I agree with Galithil."

As soon as Legolas uttered that, Tulus loosed a shuddering breath and his shoulders slumped.

Legolas was shocked to see how much just those words had meant to Tulus. Repeating Galithil's earlier gesture, he reached across the table, grasped Tulus's hands and gave them a hard squeeze "Tulus we have been friends since I was an infant. You obviously regret what happened. That is the end of it."

Tulus finally managed to look at Legolas and Galithil. His eyes held a mixture of remorse and relief and gratitude. "You have no idea how...wrong I sometimes felt, speaking with you, even playing with you when you were younger, and knowing you had no idea what I was guilty of. I felt as if I was lying to you the entire time. And I could never forget what my inaction nearly deprived you of. Glílavan lost his mother at an early age too. I know what that does to a child. I would have never forgiven myself if it had happened to either of you." Tulus glanced at Galithil and closed his eyes. "I am sorry for that reminder, Galithil."

Galithil shook his head. "I know. So am I. But I did have my naneth much longer that Glílavan did, and for that I am grateful."

Thranduil walked behind Galithil and, ignoring his protests of 'I am fine, uncle,' sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. "There is a bit more to this, that I need you to know."

Legolas tensed again. He did not really want to hear anything else.

"From what I understand, Legolas, you assumed that Tulus followed you to Selwon's village to retrieve you and the horse that you...borrowed. Is that correct?" Thranduil asked.

Legolas looked from his father to Tulus, his mind processing the implications of that question. "I assumed that, yes. Apparently I was not correct. Why else would Tulus have followed me?"

Thranduil smiled slightly. "You are further assuming that Tulus followed you. He did not. He was already in the village. Your assumption provided us with a convenient explanation for why he was in the village when he was discovered there."

"Tulus was already in the village?" Legolas repeated. Then it hit him. "Tulus was spying on Dannenion and Dolwon?"

Thranduil nodded.

Legolas punched Galithil in the arm. "I told you Adar would never trust them to go south, or anywhere else, alone unless he thought he could catch them at something," he said. Then he tried, with marginal success, to contain his excitement. "Are you going to tell us what you caught them at?"

Thranduil shook his head, now laughing lightly at his son. "You are correct. Tulus was trying to catch them communicating with Marti, so he could arrest her. But the battle and the need to protect you foiled those plans, so we caught them at nothing."

Legolas's face fell. "I apologize, adar," he said quickly.

"I do too, my lord," Galithil added.

Legolas's eyes widened. He could not think of any occasion when any of his cousins had spoken to his father saying 'my lord.' They often called him 'the King' or 'lord Thranduil' in public, especially when speaking to Dannenion or Dolwon's families, but Legolas's cousins called him 'uncle' to his face. Even Berior and Eirienil, who were not really his nephew and niece, but only his cousins--very distant cousins--did that. Even the adults in the family only referred to Thranduil with 'my lord' in court. Legolas bit his lip. They were in the Great Hall, after all. And he and Galithil did just find out that they had interfered with the governance of the realm. By going south, they had spoiled Tulus's chance to arrest a criminal. Perhaps 'my lord' was appropriate in this case. Legolas looked guiltily back at his father.

Thranduil had not failed to notice the title applied to him either. He nodded once to Galithil with a very serious expression. "We agreed we would not speak any further of that incident, and we will not," he said. His gaze turned to encompass everyone at the table. "But, Dannenion and Dolwon know nothing of this. In the interest of spying on them, Tulus led them to think that he still sympathizes with their ideas about me. I believe Tulus even told them that he helped you in Selwon's village only in an effort to help Anastor and Noruil?"

Tulus nodded. "The King, Conuion and I discussed the possibility of allowing Dannenion and Dolwon to continue to believe that I accepted a position to guard you while still harboring sympathies to their cause. But it is my opinion that such a scheme places you in far too much danger. It makes you a direct target, where you have never been one before, because they will certainly ask me to betray you to them if they think I might."

"If it were Dolgailon being placed in such a position, since he is an adult and a warrior," Thranduil said, "Or if you were an adult, capable of defending yourself, I might consider asking you if you were willing to be bait for such a trap. But as it is, Tulus and Conuion and I have decided that it would be far too difficult to properly protect you under those conditions. So Tulus is going to tell Dannenion and Dolwon that he no longer sympathizes with them. He will claim that he was flattered by the invitation to rejoin the guard and he wants to do it."

Again, Tulus nodded. "They never thought I was particularly dedicated to their cause, so they will believe that and accuse me of being a coward and a traitor." He shrugged. "I have heard it all before."

"Dannenion and Dolwon still be tempted to try to attack Legolas when Tulus is guarding him, though, thinking Tulus will hesitate to fight his old friends. Legolas will still be a target," Galithil said.

"Neither Dannenion nor Dolwon have ever directly attacked anyone in the family or any other elf," Conuion replied. "And our conversations with them do not indicate they have the stomach for such a thing. They work by hiring assassins. Tulus would react no differently than any other member of the guard to an assassin, and they know that. So there is no reason to believe Legolas or any member of the family is in increased danger due to Tulus's presence."

"I do not deny that both you and Legolas could now come into their thoughts more than before, however," Thranduil added. "But, surely you must have always been some sort of a target. You are young--for a long time not able to defend yourselves even as well as your naneths. And if they think I will bend to their demands for Lindomiel, then they must surely think I would do the same for either of you. The situation is not changed much, but it pays to be wary just the same."

Legolas and Galithil nodded in answer to that.

"That is all we need to discuss then, Thranduil said, standing. Legolas and Galithil hopped to their feet along with Tulus and Conuion. "Tulus is not well enough healed to start his new duties for another few days, and Colloth certainly is not. They will begin guarding you when they are fit for duty and in the meantime, since it will be such a short time, I suppose can continue to trust you to stay out of trouble?"

"Yes adar," Legolas replied.

"Yes, uncle," Galithil agreed.

"Off with you then. Do not forget to invite your daernaneth to plant seeds with you. I think you will be in a good deal of trouble if you forget that again," Thranduil warned as Legolas and Galithil pushed their chairs back into place under the table.

"We go get her to do it now," Galithil promised.

Together, Legolas and Galithil rushed to leave the Hall.

*~*~*

After the doors of the Great Hall had safely closed behind them and they had walked several steps away from the guards that stood by the doors, Legolas stopped and faced Galithil, looking at him squarely.

Galithil shook his head. "I do not even want to talk about it. It is too horrible."

Legolas started to scowl in disappointment and tried to determine what to say to draw his cousin into a conversation. After all, how could they not discuss all that news! But after a moment, he gave up. "You are right. I do not even know what to say about anything we just heard." He shrugged. "Except maybe that Tulus will not be a bad guard. At least he is friendly. And from what he said about gossiping about nana, maybe he will be a bit more likely to respect our privacy."

Galithil offered Legolas one of his increasingly rare grins in response to that. "I would like to know what indecorous behavior your adar and naneth were guilty of to give Tulus something to gossip about," he quipped.

Legolas laughed. "Possibly the same sort of behavior that made you want to go swimming with Maidhien yesterday rather than going to spy on the warriors with me?" he suggested. "I seem to recall you mentioning that Maidhien was 'curvy' when her shift was wet." Galithil's grin turned to a warning glare. "I think you said 'pleasantly curvy' to be exact," Legolas continued, with an openly teasing tone.

Galithil shoved him and then moved off towards the family quarters. "Come on, we have to plant seeds with daernaneth. Any idea what sorts of seeds or is it anything to distract her?"

"Dill seeds," Legolas responded, catching Galithil by his tunic. "We should go get Eirienil and Berior from the Green first. Or at least tell them where we are going, so they do not wait for us if they do not want to plant seeds too."

Galithil regarded Legolas suspiciously for a moment and then yielded to the firm tug on his sleeve. "What if Anastor and Noruil are there?"

Legolas laughed. "I do not think we will have any trouble persuading them to do something other than plant seeds with our daernaneth."

Galithil rolled his eyes, but did not pursue the question he obviously intended for Legolas to answer.

Legolas looked at him sidelong as they walked through the entry hall to the Gates. "My lord?" he said softly. He knew his cousin would know exactly what he was referring to and he did.

Galithil made a sour face. "Dolgailon told me to say it," he said defensively.

Legolas raised his eyebrows at that and Galithil nodded grumpily.

"When Dolgailon and I were leaving the Hall yesterday, after I offered to help him find things in Adar's office, he told me that if I was old enough to serve in the court, then I was old enough to address Uncle properly in court and bow when he dismisses me and things like that."

Legolas's eyebrows climbed even higher. Legolas had wondered what Dolgailon had said to Galithil that made him look so cross yesterday. That explained it. "Well, I suppose he is right. But Adar does not seem to expect that though. But he did seem to approve of it when you said it just now," Legolas said with an 'on the one hand, but then again on the other' type tone. "I admit I could see why he might have approved of a little extra courtesy at that moment. I am surprised he is not angry that we made Tulus miss the chance to arrest that elleth."

The somber expression that seemed to shadow Galithil's face descended upon him at those words and Legolas was immediately sorry for reminding his cousin of one more thing that he could blame himself for. He sighed. "I think it was very impressive how you responded to everything Tulus told us. You usually have a much quicker temper than me. I expected you to have a fit, but you barely said anything. And you really did the right thing when you told him you wanted to forget about it. It meant so much to him to see that we would not hold it against him. How did you know what to say? I did not have any idea how to respond."

Galithil was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "I guess it helps if you know what it feels like to have something really big that you regret," he finally said.

Legolas grimaced. It was nearly impossible to say anything that did not remind Galithil of his grief and that was exactly what Legolas was trying to avoid doing. They had reached the Gates. "Come on," Legolas urged, grabbing Galithil's arm and propelling  him onto the bridge. Then he pushed him into the sun and the cheerful calls of his friends, who greeted them with much the same impatience that they had the day before. Legolas ignored Eirienil's 'Did you have another exam?' question and Maidhien's complaints of 'Finally' as he scanned the Green for Berior and Brethil.

"They already went with Anastor and Noruil," Aewen said in response to his questioning expression.

"Where?" Legolas asked, not believing it. "Not to spy on the training fields?"

"Of course to spy on the training fields," Aewen replied. "You went yesterday, so they think it is the thing to do now. And they got tired of waiting for you today, so they said you could meet them there."

"Did Anastor and Noruil go too?" Legolas asked.

Aewen nodded matter-of-factly.

Legolas sighed and started across the Green.

Galithil grasped his arm. Hard. "We are planting seeds with daernaneth," he said firmly. "Your naneth will be furious if we do not."

Legolas pulled free of Galithil's grasp. "Go get daernana and take her to the garden. I am going to get Berior and Brethil and then I will join you."

Galithil cocked his head to one side and leveled an openly doubtful glare on his cousin. "Sounds like a dodge that I have used in the past," he said quietly.

Legolas shook his head. "It is not a dodge. Really. You know Anastor and Noruil will do something to tease Berior and Brethil if no one is there to stand up for them. Something mean, probably. I am just going to get them." Legolas put his hands on his hips when Galithil's expression did not change. "There is no point in spying on the training fields anymore anyway because we will not be able to get away with it with guards dogging our steps. I am just going to get our cousins, alright?"

"Promise me," Galithil demanded.

Legolas laughed. "At least you will still trust a promise then." He was a little surprised at how serious he felt when he said that. And at how much it bothered him. "Very well, I promise. I will get Berior and Brethil and come help plant seeds with daernaneth."

Galithil nodded. "Fine," was all he said.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum
Daernaneth/daernana -- Grandmother
Elleth -- female elf

Chapter 4: Lies

Legolas dodged in and out amongst the trees, jogging to the small meadow where he had practiced sword work with Anastor and Noruil the day before. He had already checked the hiding place that they used to spy on the training fields not far from the clearing. It was abandoned, but so were the training fields. The swords lesson was apparently over for the day, so Legolas imagined Anastor, Noruil, Brethil and Berior had gone to practice in the clearing. As he approached, he heard a sharp smack of wood against wood and a mock battle cry and knew he was right. Those noises were followed by voices--someone pleading with someone else. Berior's voice, he thought.

"Well, if all Anastor has done is refuse to let them use the practice swords, I suppose I should be grateful," Legolas said to himself as he doubled his pace towards the clearing.

A good distance to one side of the path he was following, Legolas glimpsed movement amongst the trees. He squinted in that direction and saw two figures. They seemed to be strolling slowly through the forest. Legolas tensed. No one took a stroll near the practice fields. Except officers of the training program and occasionally warriors. In either case, if Legolas was caught here, he would be in trouble. Legolas made sure he was obscured by a tree as he watched the figures to determine who they were and where they were going, One of them turned a bit, the better to step over a large branch that laid across his path. Legolas groaned out loud. It was Tulus. Just as he recognized him, another loud thwack and the distinct sound of high-pitched laughter sounded from the clearing where Anastor, Noruil and his cousins were practicing. Legolas willed Tulus to ignore the sound.

"There it is again," the other figure said. "I want to see who that is. They have no business taking practice swords all the way into the forest like that."

Legolas recognized the voice. It was Glílavan's. "Oh no," Legolas said softly and he quickly assessed the route he would have to take on the ground or through the trees to get to the clearing before Glílavan. Then he wondered if he could sneak past a warrior--an officer, no less--by either route. "No choice but to try and the trees will be faster," he said to himself, leaping onto a low branch and hoping the beeches here would not betray naughty children. He made as direct a path towards the clearing as he could, keeping one eye on Glílavan and the other in the general direction of his goal.

Glílavan did not take more than a few steps before Tulus grabbed his arm. "We are not done with this conversation," he said. "You started it. Now you will listen to what I have to say about it."

As Legolas silently closed the distance between them, he saw Glílavan turn an exasperated gaze skyward. He froze, fearing Glílavan might spot him. But Glílavan only shook his head and looked silently at his adar with an expression on his face that Legolas was certain would have earned him nothing less than a good smack from his own adar. Tulus gave Glílavan a shake by his arm and fixed him with a glare that should have turned him to stone. Legolas resumed his progress forward through the trees, now almost directly over them, creeping slowing and making sure to keep as many branches between himself and the ground as possible.

"I was a warrior in this forest two ages before you were born, Glílavan," Tulus was saying. "I fought for seven years in Mordor, in battles the scale of which you cannot even imagine. I assure you, I know how to defend myself."

"I never said you could not defend yourself, adar..." Glílavan tried to argue, but Tulus cut him off.

"So make no mistake. This," he said pointing to the wound at his hip, "did not happen because I was careless, slow, unpracticed, or daunted by the battle in some way..."

"I never said it did..."

"I stepped in front of that arrow and knew precisely where it would strike me--I knew it could be a fatal hit--when I made the choice to do it."

Glílavan said nothing to that.

Legolas had gone a few feet past them, but he could not help but pause and look back. What Tulus had just said was painful for him to hear. He could not imagine how difficult it must be for Tulus's son to hear it. Why in all of Arda would Tulus be saying such things to Glílavan?

"Do not think that I would do such a thing once and would not do it again," Tulus continued. "I will. Every time it is necessary. So unless you want to see me killed..."

Glílavan pulled his arm free of his father's grasp and stalked off in the direction of the clearing again.  "I understand, adar. Please drop it."

Tulus grabbed his arm again and pulled him up short sharply enough to force Glílavan to spin around to face him. "I will drop it when you do," he replied.

Glílavan made an obvious effort to maintain a respectful expression. "We were having a nice walk, adar. An enjoyable conversation, discussing my promotion and yours. Might we just forget about this and go to see who is practicing out here and why?"

Tulus released Glílavan's arm with a shove and Legolas hurried on through the trees, easily staying ahead of Glílavan's slow paced walk--slow enough to accommodate Tulus's still painful injury. "Forgetting about it is precisely what I expect you to do," Legolas heard Tulus growl behind him.

Moments later, all Legolas's friends in the clearing yelped in surprise when he leapt out of the trees and ran straight to them.

"You cannot scare us so easily! "Anastor exclaimed, pointing the practice sword in his hand at Legolas.  Breathlessness made his defiant tone somewhat less convincing.

"Why would you come sneaking up on us through the trees like that, Legolas?" Brethil complained. He had his hand over his heart and was making no show of being brave.

Legolas knew his warning would not make them feel better. "Glílavan and Tulus are right behind me," he said, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.

Anastor and Noruil immediately began looking around for someplace to hide the practice swords in their hands.

Legolas shook his head. "Hiding the swords is no good. They heard someone practicing over here and detoured in this direction to see who it is. We have to get out of here. Now."

Eyes wide, Brethil and Berior nodded and started to follow Legolas, cutting across the forest at an angle to avoid being intercepted by Glílavan and Tulus.

Anastor jogged after Legolas and grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. "Do not run," he warned. He looked serious.

Next to him, Noruil was nodding. "That is what we did with Galithil that time that we got caught practicing archery here when we were little. It will only make Glílavan more determined to track us down if he finds no one here after he heard someone practicing. Even if he does not find us, he will tell Dolgailon was us and Galithil, because this is where he caught us before. I am sure he already suspects he will find us here."

Legolas pulled his arm from Anastor's grasp and turned to face him and Noruil fully. "Brilliant idea," he whispered. "Going back to the same place you have been caught once. Maybe next time you might try someplace new?"

Noruil made a face at him in response.

"We cannot stay or we will certainly be caught," Berior whispered. He pointed into the forest. "Footsteps!"

"I have an idea." Anastor said quietly. "Just stay where you are and act as if nothing is wrong."

Legolas scowled at him. He certainly did not trust any of Anastor's ideas.  He glanced in the direction of the approaching footsteps and then at his cousins, who definitely did not look as if nothing were wrong. He was gazing at the clear escape path that they might have taken if they had not delayed when Glílavan and Tulus burst into the clearing.

"I knew I would find you here," Glílavan said, pointing at Anastor and Noruil.

Legolas looked over his shoulder at him.

Glílavan was looking at the practice swords in Anastor and Noruil's hands with raised eyebrows. His eyebrows went up more and he leaned forward slightly when he recognized it was Legolas rather than Galithil with them. "What is going on here?" he asked, his tone less certain than it had been a moment before. As he spoke, he spared a glance at Berior and Brethil and his expression became even more confused.

Anastor adopted the satisfied gleam that normally signified that he had successfully tricked someone. He took a step forward. "We are only helping Legolas practice his sword lesson since Galithil is not here yet."

Legolas spun back around to face Anastor, his jaw frankly hanging open.

"Legolas's lesson?" Glílavan and Tulus both repeated.

"The King did not mention to me that Legolas would be having sword lessons," Tulus added.

Glílavan shook his head. "Just because you are now Legolas's guard, I doubt that the King will be reporting Legolas's full schedule to you," he said.

"Have you gone mad?" Legolas whispered as Tulus and Glílavan argued.

"Play along," Anastor hissed back. "You and Berior will be in far more trouble for this than Noruil and I."

"Especially if we compound the situation with a lie," Legolas drew a breath to respond. But Glílavan addressed Anastor again before Legolas could speak.

"Even if you have the King's permission to have those swords, I am certain you do not have his permission to be fooling around with them," he argued.

"We were not fooling around. We were practicing," Anastor shot back.

"You were fighting with them. I heard you knocking them together. Legolas could not have had sword lessons for very long, so he could not be ready to spar," Glílavan countered.
 
"We were practicing attacks and guards," Anastor argued.

Glílavan laughed. "Langon does not teach attack and guard drills to a student until after they have worn through at least two pairs of sturdy boots doing footwork drills." He glanced pointedly at Legolas's boots. "Legolas's boots still look to be in very good shape to me. I think you were fooling around."

"Legolas does not have to waste his time with footwork drills," Anastor replied.

Legolas cringed. No one would believe that. It would surely be the lie that betrayed them.

But Glílavan only moaned. "Oh! Only the King's son could escape Langon's footwork drills! Only the King could force Langon to forego them!"

Legolas turned to face Glílavan fully, looking at him through narrowed eyes in response to that.

Glílavan did not notice. He was mumbling 'fine, then' as he grabbed the sword Noruil was holding.

"First of all," Legolas began. He was forced backward a step when Glílavan thrust Noruil's sword into his hands. Legolas took it automatically, but otherwise ignored it, letting its tip rest on the ground as he continued speaking without pause. "I would never be able to escape anything just because I am the King's son," he said.

Glílavan was not listening. "Well, by all means, let us see then," he said, speaking over Legolas as if he had not heard him. "I would be very interested to see one of these attack and guard drills that you were practicing."

Legolas was vaguely aware of Tulus stepping into his peripheral vision and saying something, but he ignored him. "Second of all," he continued. "I was not practicing anything at all. I just got here a few moments before you."

Glílavan smirked at that and looked over Legolas's head at Anastor with one eyebrow raised knowingly.

"Third of all," Legolas said, raising his voice slightly with the intention of drawing Glílavan's attention back to him. He was not finished yet. There was no way he was going to lie to an officer of the training program about having sword lessons. Neither was he going to lie to Tulus, who was both his friend and his new guard. Glílavan did turn back to Legolas and lifted his chin slightly to look down at him. Legolas straightened automatically in response and drew a breath to continue speaking.

As he did, he glimpsed a blurred movement to his left. He glanced at it and then, registering what it was, he jumped back, stumbling in the process.

"Enough," Tulus said in the authoritative voice that Legolas and his cousins rarely heard him use.

Legolas was not surprised to hear him use it now. Anastor was glaring at Tulus and trying to pull his practice sword out of Tulus's grip. Tulus had the blade of the wooden sword in his hands. He twisted it sharply tp pull it away from Anastor. The blur Legolas had seen was the sword. Anastor had apparently decided to distract them by obeying Glílavan's request to demonstrate the supposed lesson. He had aimed a hewing attack at Legolas. Tulus had stepped forward and caught the blade before the stroke fell across Legolas's shoulder. Anastor glared at Tulus a moment and then turned on Legolas with a look that plainly demanded that he shut up.

"If there was any doubt about whether you are mature enough to share these lessons with Legolas, it no longer remains," Tulus said. "You most certainly are not."

"Not bad," Glílavan was saying at the same time, looking at Legolas with a marginal amount of respect. "Good instinct," he continued, gesturing to how Legolas had stepped to the side. "But this alone should show you the importance of footwork. Your right leg is positioned perfectly well, but look at your left leg, Legolas. If you needed to return that blow that you just dodged, you would not have the strength or balance to close the distance to your enemy and deliver a solid blow given the way your foot and knee are turned. Let me show you." He reached to take the sword Tulus had confiscated from Anastor while moving in front of Legolas.

"Glílavan," Tulus said, warningly.

Legolas frowned, but found himself raising the sword he was holding into a clumsy guard of no proper type when Glílavan raised his practice sword over his head. "I do not think..." Legolas began, taking another stumbling step backward.

Glílavan ignored him. "See how awkward that stance is?" he asked. He turned around, so his back was to Legolas. "Stand thusly," he ordered, positioning his feet squarely.

Legolas let the tip of the sword fall to the ground again. "Glílavan, I only came here to get Berior and Brethil. Berior and I have to go plant seeds with daernana and I thought Brethil might want to go with us." He paused and glanced at Anastor and Noruil. "You are welcome to come with us, of course, but I doubted you would want to."

Anastor shook his head with a sour smile.
 
Glílavan looked over his shoulder at Legolas for a moment and then abandoned the stance he had struck to face to him fully. "Very well, but I think you should encourage Langon to spend more time on footwork drills with you. You do not want to learn bad habits that the training program will have to undo," he said, hands on his hips. He let the tip of the practice sword he was holding drop to the ground and then he gave the hilt a shove so it tilted over towards Legolas. Legolas caught it. "I could tell Langon to work on that more with you, if you would like."

Legolas's eyes flew open at that and he shook his head. There was no doubt he looked guilty.

Glílavan smiled. "And now we come to the truth of it."

Legolas swallowed. "I did not intend to lie to you, Glílavan," he began.

"You did not," Glílavan interrupted. "Anastor did. They," he waggled a finger between Anastor and Noruil, "were playing around with your practice swords. I never doubted that. Now when you are finished with your gardening and have time to practice your sword lessons properly, you make sure to practice your footwork drills and do not let these two be a bad influence on you or encourage you to fool around like that. Langon will knock you in the head with that practice sword, king's son or not, if he catches you doing something like that. Footwork drills. That is the key, as Langon says." He nodded and winked at Legolas. "And do not practice here. You are too close to the practice fields here and that can be dangerous." He patted Legolas on the shoulder, gave Anastor and Noruil a glare and started to walk away. "Off to your gardening then," he said over his shoulder.

Legolas looked from Glílavan's back to Tulus, who was still studying him, his mouth open and trying to decide what to say.

"You heard him," Anastor said, stepping forward and taking Legolas by the arm. "Off to your gardening." He took the swords from Legolas with one hand and started pulling him from the clearing with the other.

"Glílavan," Legolas called after him. But he did not sound very determined to stop him, even to himself. And he did not resist terribly much when Anastor and Noruil pushed him along.

"We should just get out of here," Brethil whispered.

Legolas looked at him and then at Berior. Berior was nodding nervously.

Legolas sighed and, with a last glance at Tulus, turned to jog off towards the stronghold with everyone else.

*~*~*

"Can you paint them both together?" Galithil asked.

Legolas nodded as he placed his box of drawing supplies on the table. Galithil pulled a chair up right next to Legolas and settled into it, leaning in close to peer at the drawings already in the box. Legolas took them out and shuffled through them. A charcoal drawing of Barad, the Man from Arthedain that they had recently met  was on the top. Legolas let that picture fall to the table, along with a half finished one of Hallion, several, in charcoal and paints, of Thranduil and Lindomiel, and a few sketches of his cousins. He stopped when he reached a finished color painting. He held it close and looked at it a long moment, startled by how much grief washed over him just from looking at it. He finally tore his eyes away from it and looked back at Galithil.

"Are you sure you want to see this?" he asked, holding the painting against his chest.

"Yes," Galithil said, reaching for it.

Legolas let him have it. When tears filled Galithil's eyes, Legolas turned his focus back to searching through the drawings in the box. He did not think that looking at his poorly done paintings of Aradunnon and Amoneth was really something Galithil needed to be doing, but he could not seem to make himself argue against it either. "I am afraid I really only have sketches of your naneth. Nothing painted," he said, putting a few smaller papers in front of Galithil on the table. Galithil studied each one of them. "I can definitely paint them both together in a new one, though. That is easy," he said as Galithil lightly traced the lines of one of the sketches with a finger.

"You know how Nana used to sit on that rock by the river under the Oak, and Ada would sit on the ground in front of her, and she would lean over and put her chin on his shoulder and her arms around him?"

Legolas nodded. He did not go often to the Oak with Galithil and his parents, so he did not really remember ever seeing them in that particular pose, but he could imagine it well enough.

"Can you paint them like that?"

Legolas nodded again, pulled out a piece of paper and some charcoal and began to sketch. Galithil watched silently as the outline of a masculine figure appeared in the foreground of the picture and then a feminine figure took shape behind it. Her face was next to the masculine form. Her left hand rested on the male's shoulder, while her right arm held him across his chest.

"Yes, just like that!" Galithil said, nodding with a clearly pleased expression.

It was the most pleased Legolas had seen his cousin in days. He smiled. "Do you want them wearing anything in particular?" he asked as he idly began adding facial features to the male in the picture.

"Nana should be wearing that blue dress that she wore to the Spring Festival. It was pretty. She looked nice in it," Galithil said.

Legolas paused in the creation of Aradunnon's nose to add a note about the blue dress to the corner of the sketch. "What if I paint your adar wearing that dark brown tunic with the gold embroidery, then? It will contrast nicely with the blue dress and the dress has similar embroidery, so they will look good together."

"Sounds good to me," Galithil replied.

A glance over his shoulder showed Legolas that his cousin was transfixed by the emergence of Aradunnon's face from the rough sketch. Legolas had all the information he needed to make the painting that Galithil had asked him for. He did not really need to do anything more to this sketch, but he continued drawing since Galithil seemed to want him to.

"I wonder if Daernana would like a sketch," Galithil said quietly, propping his chin in his hands. "She seemed pretty distant when we were planting the seeds with her."

Legolas laughed lightly, in an effort not to allow the worry he felt over his grandmother to show on his face. "If Daernana wants a painting, she will either do it herself or have the good sense to ask someone who can paint, like Celonhael or Gelireth, to paint it for her. Not me," he said.

Galithil frowned at the sketch Legolas was doing appraisingly. "You are pretty good, Legolas," he said. "And this painting is great," he added, fingering the corner of the painting of Aradunnon that Legolas had extracted from the box. "Maybe you should give the one you are going to do to Daernaneth. If you will let me keep this one of Ada and one of the sketches of Nana."

Legolas shook his head. "You can keep any of these you want, but remember you promised not to show them to anyone. They are not good, Galithil. You only think they are because you are still grieving too much to know any better. I am not showing any of them to Daernana. Remember she is a real painter, amongst all the other arts she does. No way am I letting her see any of this mess," he said, waving his hand over the scattered papers.

Galithil looked up from the sketch. "There are good and you are a fool for not seeing it, Legolas. You do know that, right?" he said with a grin.

Legolas laughed and his hand darted up to draw a long, jagged black mark down Galithil's cheek with the charcoal pencil. When Galithil picked up a paint brush and wielded it like a sword to ward off Legolas's attack on his other cheek, Legolas's laughter faded a bit. Swords were not something he wanted to be reminded of at the moment.

Galithil sobered as well. "You have to tell Glílavan," he said seriously.

Legolas grimaced and leaned over the sketch, beginning on Amoneth's face. "Brethil wants to continue spying on the swords lessons, remember? And you said to Berior in the garden when we were planting seeds that Glílavan would not tell on us, even if he found out from Langon that I do not have sword lessons."

"And he will not, Legolas," Galithil answered firmly. "Glílavan is not such a bad person as you seem to think. He would probably even give you the lessons himself. But you still have to tell him because he is going to be our captain in just a few years. You cannot have an officer thinking you are not trustworthy."

Legolas stopped drawing and closed his eyes. "Do you think I do not know that? Nor can we keep this lie up to Tulus. He will certainly notice whether or not we have sword lessons when he begins to guard me." He let his head fall on his arm on the table. "And while Glílavan might not make us tell Adar, I am not so certain Tulus will not. I do not know why I did not just tell them it was a lie the moment Anastor said it! This is so much harder now!" he whined.

"Anastor has a real gift for dragging others down with him," Galithil observed dryly. "I am looking forward to serving in a patrol with him," he added with clear sarcasm.

Legolas snorted and shook his head. Sitting back up, he started drawing again, this time to distract himself as much as Galithil.

"You can tell Glílavan easily. All he will do is frown at you," Galithil said. "It is true," he insisted when Legolas looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "That is all he ever does to me. And he will probably volunteer to help you tell his adar. Tulus is too kind to give you much of a hard time. So it will turn out easier than you think. I will go with you to tell them if you want."

Legolas fiddled with the charcoal between his fingers. "Glílavan may like you, but he does not think so highly of me. If I hear him say 'king's son' to me one more time, I am going to say something really harsh to him. I do not get any sort of privilege because I am the king's son..."

"I know. And he does too, I think. He is only joking maybe," Galithil said.

"He is not joking. He means it." Legolas put down the charcoal and looked at Galithil. "I need to tell you something. And you are not going to like it, since you and Glílavan are friends. But I need you to listen to me."

Galithil leaned against the back of his chair and folded his arms. "What?" he asked, shortly.

Legolas adopted an equally stubborn posture. "I knew about the crime Dolwon and Dannenion committed before you. Do you know why I was told before you?"

"I suppose it would only make you want to say something harsh to me if I said you found out first because you are the king's son?" Galithil replied. Legolas narrowed his eyes at his cousin's not entirely joking tone. "So," Galithil continued without acknowledging Legolas's glare, "I think I remember that you were told right after you punched Noruil for calling your adar a tyrant. I imagine you were told then because your adar wanted to explain why Noruil said that."

"Half right," Legolas responded. "That is when adar told me and that is part of the reason he did. The other part of the reason has to do with Glílavan."

Galithil's gaze darted back to Legolas. "Your adar did not say anything to us about Glílavan being involved in what Dannenion, Dolwon and Tulus did."

"No, not today. But when adar told me about it the first time, part of what we talked about was how Glílavan had offered to show us both how to shoot Maidhien's bow and keep it secret from our parents. That is what I told Uncle Hallion when I told on you. Uncle Hallion told adar and adar made me tell your adar and brother about it. When your adar heard it, he exploded. He said he would not have Glílavan manipulate you and he told Dolgailon to dismiss him and after they argued over it for a while your adar finally came out and said he believed Glílavan had been part of Dannenion and Dolwon's plot."

Galithil was shaking his head. "Dolgailon and Glílavan are good friends. They have been forever. Dolgailon just promoted Glílavan. Dolgailon would not do any of those things if Glílavan had ever plotted to kill naneth!"

"When your adar told Dolgailon to dismiss Glílavan and Dolgailon said no, my adar told Dolgailon to consider better whether Glílavan was really trustworthy..."

"They are still friends to this day. He just promoted him," Galithil interrupted, repeating his earlier argument. "He obviously still trusts him."

"And there is more," Legolas continued, undaunted. "Today, when I was going to get Berior and Brethil, I heard Glílavan and Tulus talking before they got to the clearing. I did not hear what Glílavan said to prompt Tulus to say this, but Tulus said to Glílavan something about how he did not get wounded defending me out of carelessness but rather by choice, he would do it again, and unless Glílavan wanted to see his adar get killed, he had better not do something. I did not hear what."

Galithil rolled his eyes. "That could mean anything."

"I think Glílavan asked Tulus to betray me to him. Just like Tulus said might happen when we were talking today."

"I think your imagination is a little over active," Galithil said. "Tulus is not going to be a member of the King's Guard while knowing his son is plotting to overthrow the King."

"You know I did something really stupid by going to spy on the training fields. Did you tell on me?" Legolas asked.

"Of course not."

"Well, maybe Tulus is not anxious to tell on his own son, since he has thus far avoided being caught. Maybe he wants to protect him too. He wants to try to keep him out of trouble. I could certainly understand if Tulus wanted to protect him," Legolas said and he nodded when Galithil had no argument to contradict him.

"Legolas," Galithil finally said, "I do not believe for a minute that is true. Glílavan is my friend. Not because he is trying to manipulate me, but just because he is nice. He is not plotting to overthrow your adar. But," he paused for emphasis, "if there is even the slightest chance that is true, you are in a lot of trouble. Your guard is in a position to bring very serious harm to you, and therefore the king and this realm. That cannot be. You have to tell someone what you heard them saying."

Legolas loosed a long sigh. "I know. Along with the stupid lie, I have been thinking about this all day long. Who can I tell though? If I tell adar, he will confront Tulus with it directly. And if they were discussing something different, Tulus will think I did not trust him, and he will be so hurt. You saw how much he hated telling us about his involvement with Dannenion today! If I ask Tulus about it directly myself, without telling anyone else, he is going to deny everything if he means to protect Glílavan, so I have accomplished nothing..."

"Except putting Tulus on notice that you know something is up," Galithil interrupted.

"True, but still that does little good, because what threat am I against Tulus or Glílavan? And again, if Tulus meant something else entirely with what he was saying, he will think I do not trust him and he will be hurt. If I confront Glílavan directly, the same thing will happen--he will deny everything, tell his adar and Tulus will be hurt. There is no way for me to handle this without hurting Tulus."

"Talk to Uncle Hallion about it. He will know what to do," Galithil said certainly.

"If Uncle Hallion thinks for a moment that my safety is at risk, or adar's through me, he will go straight to adar," Legolas answered.

"Maybe, then, that is what you should do, regardless of who might get their feelings hurt," Galithil said quietly. "Hurt feelings can heal. You will not if Tulus does mean to betray you to Dannenion. And neither will your adar heal if that happens. There is too much at stake."

Legolas flopped back in his chair. "I know. I am in so much trouble," he said miserably.

"Why are you in trouble?" an adult voice said from the doorway.

Legolas and Galithil both jumped and spun around in their chairs. Dolgailon was standing in the entrance of the room.

"It is rude to come into someone's room without knocking, Dolgailon," Legolas snapped.

 "It is late. I was looking for Galithil and you did not answer my knock. Why are you in trouble?" Dolgailon repeated. His voice was sympathetic as he approached the table.

"Dolgailon could help," Galithil suggested in a whisper. "At least give you better advice than me on what to do, maybe."

Legolas looked at Dolgailon, considering that.

'I will always try to help you, Legolas, if I can. I am your cousin, not your adar," Dolgailon said. "May I sit?"

Legolas nodded. "But this is really bad," he warned.

"Then you need all the help you can get," Dolgailon replied, settling himself across from Galithil.

"I heard Tulus telling Glílavan that he did not get shot by that arrow in Selwon's village by accident. He did it on purpose to protect me. And now it is his duty to protect me. " Legolas paused and looked questioningly at Dolgailon. "Did Conuion tell you that Tulus is my guard now?" Dolgailon nodded. "So Tulus told Glílavan that he would defend me with his life as many times as necessary to protect me. And then Tulus asked Glílavan if he wanted to see him get killed. He was talking as if he was warning Glílavan not to do something."

Dolgailon looked confused.

"Legolas thinks Glílavan asked Tulus to betray Legolas to him. Because he is also plotting with Dannenion and Dolwon," Galithil explained.

Confusion was quickly replaced by annoyance.

"You are worse than Adar!" Dolgailon exclaimed. "There was never any evidence Glílavan was involved in that conspiracy...." He stumbled to a stop and glanced at Galithil. "Wait, do you have the King's permission to be discussing this with Galithil?" he asked.

Legolas and Galithil both nodded. "Uncle Thranduil told me about what they did himself," Galithil answered.

"And Tulus told us of his involvement as a condition of accepting the appoint to the King's Guard," Leoglas added.

Dolgailon nodded and wiped his hand across his face. "Fine," he said, his hand still over his eyes. "Look, here is what I will do," he continued, allowing his hand to fall to the table so he could look directly at Legolas. "I am leaving for the camp of the southern patrol in the morning. But before I leave, I will ask Glílavan what that conversation was supposed to be about. I am certain there is a simple explanation. If I am not satisfied with what he says, I will delay leaving for the south so you and I can go speak to you your adar about it. Fair?"

"Can you make him promise not to tell his adar that we were suspicious?" Legolas pleaded. "We do not want to hurt Tulus's feelings if there is nothing to this."

"I will not let Glílavan know who repeated this conversation to me," Dolgailon promised.

The smile returned to Legolas's face. "Thank you, Dolgailon!"

Dolgailon nodded, tiredly. "You are welcome." He looked at Galithil. "TIme for you to be in your own room. It is very late," he said, standing. His gaze fell on the drawings on the table, including the one in front of Legolas. "What are these?" he asked, reaching for one of the sketches of his mother.

"They are not good! Please leave them alone, Dolgailon," Legolas begged, trying to gather them and cover them with his hands without smudging them, especially the fresh sketch that he would base Galithil's painting on.

"Tell him they are good, Dolgailon," Galithil insisted. "He is going to make me a painting of Adar and Naneth by the river from that one," he said pointing to the top sketch.

Legolas scowled at his cousins.

"I will try to respect your privacy, Legolas," Dolgailon said, still peering at the image of his parents partially hidden under Legolas's hands. "But I wish I did not have to. Those are very good. And very precious. It is a wonderful gift for you to give to Galithil if you are painting Adar and Nana for him."

Legolas closed his eyes. Dolgailon really did not do anything artistic. He would not be a harsh critic. Legolas pulled the painting of Aradunnon from the stack and put it on the table in the open. "You can have that one if you think it is any good," he said. "But please keep it in your room if you take it."

Dolgailon looked for a long moment at the painting on the table, his expression unreadable. Then he picked it up. "I will treasure this, Legolas. Thank you."

Legolas only nodded.

"What about the other thing?" Galithil whispered into Legolas's ear as Dolgailon turned to lead him back to their own rooms.

"I will tell Nana first and ask her to help me tell Adar," Legolas whispered back.

"That will work," Galithil agreed.

*~*~*

Dolgailon watched the light from the single lit lamp in his office flicker. The flame's glow danced across the maps on the wall, but left much of the room in shadow. The darkness suited Dolgailon perfectly well as he waited, seated behind his father's desk.

"Glílavan and Tulus, my lord," a young warrior, one of the warriors on night duty guarding the capital, announced from the doorway of the office. Dolgailon had caught him as he patrolled along the river and sent him to fetch the two elves standing expectantly in the doorway now.

"Thank you. Return to your patrol," Dolgailon said, gesturing for Glílavan and Tulus to sit in the two chairs he had placed in front of the desk.

The young warrior saluted and left the office. Dolgailon listened to his soft footsteps echo in the silence as he studied two of his oldest friends. Glílavan had been his mentor when he was a freshly sworn warrior. Younger even than the warrior that had just left the office. And Tulus had hosted him in his home hundreds of times when Dolgailon and Glílavan both served in the south, where Tulus once lived. Until he had been convicted of treason.

"I heard a very interesting story today," Dolgailon began in a soft voice. It was a sharp enough interruption of the silence to make Tulus jump slightly. "I heard a conversation the two of you were having. Regarding how Tulus was not injured in Selwon's village by accident, but rather by choice," he said, watching Tulus very carefully. If there was anything to be seen here, Tulus, and not Glílavan, would be the one to reveal it. "A choice everyone in my family feels we can never repay, of course," he continued.

"I have been handsomely repaid by the honor the King has given me," Tulus replied. His voice was strong and steady.

Dolgailon nodded. "And that trust is not misplaced, for I heard you saying that you would defend Legolas just as you did in Selwon's village whenever it became necessary. That is, of course, what is expected of the King's Guard."

Tulus nodded also. "I am familiar with the duties of the King's Guard, my lord," Tulus answered. He was definitely looking more closely at Dolgailon. "I served in both lord Thranduil and lord Oropher's guard before I was justly dismissed. I will not repeat my mistakes."

"We have been friends my entire life, Tulus. I trust that," Dolgailon replied. "As we have been friends my entire life, Glílavan. And I trust you. I just promoted you to a rank that I have long felt you deserved. Since I trust you both, I am certain you can explain to me what was meant when, in that conversation, Tulus asked you if you wanted to see him killed? Why would a father say such a thing to his son? It makes no sense to me at all. But I am very curious about it."

Tulus looked calmly at his son. Not a blink.

Glílavan slumped a bit in his chair. "I am sure the King intends the position he gave to my adar to be an honor," he began after the briefest of pauses. "And as Adar already said, he certainly sees it as an honor. But what if it were your adar, Dolgailon, who was expected to step between someone and an arrow? Would that feel like an honor to you? Honestly? In part, maybe. But at least in part, no it would not. Adar is my only remaining family. I am terrified of the position he has been given and we were discussing that. We were saying that in only a few short years, Legolas would be a warrior and Adar would be with him in the patrols. Adar said he would only be in the capital's guard and the Path Guard, because Legolas will be needed to do duties for the King as well. I said he will be assigned to the Southern Patrol eventually, just as you were," he said nodding to Dolgailon. "And Adar was asking me if I really wanted to spend the next fifteen years until Legolas comes of age worrying about that or if it would not make more sense to just not think about it. Adar was being a bit too descriptive in his argument. Of course, I do not want to picture him being killed. Surely you can understand that."

"Not a full week has passed since I watched as my adar was killed in battle, Glílavan," Dolgailon responded coolly. "Yes, I can understand that. And that explanation for your discussion does make sense." Again, Tulus did not move a muscle. Glílavan nodded. "And that relieves me, because I must confess, when I first heard it, I thought it sounded as if you had implied that Legolas might be in some sort of danger and Tulus was reminding you that if Legolas was in danger, so was he." Both Tulus and Glílavan were stock still. "It sounded to me as if Legolas was being threatened, so I am very relieved I was wrong." He paused for their attention. "If my little cousin, or my younger brother, were ever threatened, I would hunt down the creature that threatened them and I would not only kill that creature, I would flay it alive. Understood?"

"That is precisely what I would do as well, my lord," Tulus replied promptly.

Glílavan nodded. "They are children. If anyone attacked them, they would deserve anything they got for it, assuredly," he hastened to agree.

"I am glad we are all in agreement on that issue," Dolgailon said, standing. Tulus stood immediately as well and Glílavan jumped up after his father. Tulus had always treated Dolgailon with court manners. And he had never lied to him. Dolgailon did not believe Tulus had lied tonight either. But he did not miss the fact that Tulus had said next to nothing.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum
Daernaneth/daernana -- Grandmother

Chapter 5: Anger

Thranduil glanced up impatiently from the letter he was writing when the guard opened his office door, but he breathed a little easier when he saw that the impending interruption was only Lindomiel. Normally, he would at least stand to greet her and she would not accept any less of a greeting than a kiss, since the office was empty of any occupant besides Thranduil. But Thranduil was nearing the bottom of the stack of work that had accumulated in his absence. He was focused on pushing through it to its end. Lindomiel did not seem offended. She merely sank into one of the chairs in front of his desk and sighed quietly as she leaned back into it.

"I appreciate you coming so quickly," Thranduil said, without pausing in his writing.

"I was hoping I could interrupt you for a moment to speak to you about the metal the warriors scavenged during the battle in the south," Lindomiel said at the same time.

Thranduil frowned and let his quill droop. "Excuse me? Metal? What does that have to do with the cloth we need to meet our trade agreements and the needs of the warriors?"

Now Lindomiel frowned. "Nothing. What about the cloth? I spoke to both Celonhael and Engwe about it already."

Thranduil resumed writing. "So I have heard. And I promised Celonhael and Engwe that I would speak to you about it further. That is why I asked for you to come see me."

Lindomiel laughed and shook her head. It was a tired laugh. "I did not realize you were waiting to speak to me. When I spoke to Celonhael, he mentioned the metal to me and I wanted to ask you for some of it. For the kitchen. Celonhael thinks it would be of satisfactory quality for pots and spits and perhaps blades for various utensils. The cooks have been begging me to replace some of their utensils and this is the best opportunity that has presented itself in years. May I have some? Celonhael said you had some spare that you were going to sell to Dale or Esgaroth. I only want a bit of that."

Thranduil waved the quill dismissively. "Take what you need of it. For whatever purpose. I would rather use it than sell it and have to purchase more later. I only agreed to sell it because Golwon and Engwe said there would be spare ingots after they took what they wanted for the villages' needs and for weapons."

Lindomiel raised her eyebrows. "I did not think you approved of using metal scavenged from the enemy to forge weapons."

Thranduil made a sour face. "I do not. But Engwe only intends to make spear and arrow heads of it. It is perfectly good for that."

Lindomiel shrugged. After a moment's silence, she crossed her arms. "What about the cloth then?" she asked.

"Right," Thranduil nodded. He added a few more lines to the letter, signed it and glanced over it as he set it aside to let the ink dry. Then he looked up. And frowned. Lindomiel was looking at him levelly with an expression that dared him to contradict what she had told Celonhael and Engwe about the cloth. Well, that was precisely what he was going to do. "Lindomiel, I realize you are busier than normal." He paused. "Without Amoneth," he said somberly. "But I have to meet the trade agreements I made with the Men. And I have to clothe the warriors. I need the cloth you promised Celonhael and Engwe earlier this year."

"Well, I cannot finish it," she interrupted.

"I do not need the wool cloth for the warriors until fall. In time for it to be made into cloths for winter..."

"I cannot finish it," Lindomiel repeated, more firmly. "I have not even begun work on the wool. I have several weeks more work to finish the cloth the Men ordered, and Celonhael argued we must finish that, since the Men have already paid for it."

"Lindomiel, we bought the wool almost a year ago. Many of the warriors cannot go another winter without  new cloaks and tunics. What they have has been repaired as many times as it can be." He tossed the quill down on his desk when her expression did not change. "You do not expect them to spin and weave the fabric themselves, do you?"

"Thranduil, if I did nothing else between now and the Fall Festival, I could not complete what you have asked me to make," Lindomiel answered. "And as much as I would prefer to, I cannot spend all my time in the workshop. This is summer. It is the busiest time of year. There are berries to be harvested and dried or made into jam, nuts to be gathered, roots to be gathered and stored or ground, bark to be gathered, ground into flour and made into bread, meat to be dried, wood to be laid in for winter...and about a dozen other tasks. You do want the warriors and the people in the capital to eat this winter?  You would like food on your own table, I imagine? Your food does not prepare itself, Thranduil. Someone has to manage all these tasks and I am now the only one to do any of it, including the weaving."

"I will speak to Arthiel about helping you. We will insist that she helps, at least for now..."

"That might be enough if you could convince the Men to take carved furniture in place of the cloth or if the warriors could wear carved furniture in place of cloaks. Arthiel was a woodworker before she became a forester. She does not know how to weave and I cannot teach her in time to complete the woolen cloth for winter. Even if I could..."

"She can do Amoneth's share of the management of the household duties, so that you and Naneth can concentrate on the weaving. You will certainly need to help her more than you did Amoneth, but..."

"Thranduil!" Lindomiel interrupted, raising her voice. He fell silent in surprise. "Even if Arthiel could manage all the other household duties without my help, which she cannot, I cannot finish the weaving projects you are speaking of with the ladies remaining in the workshop. There are not enough of us left with Amoneth gone and Dieneryn leaving. At the very least Theniel will go with Dieneryn. I will be shocked if Theniel's sister, Sadorwen, does not go as well. And that cuts the number of people in the workshop by over half. And the most experienced half, at that. It cannot be done, Thranduil. No matter how much you want it to happen, it will not. So you must devise another plan if the warriors cannot make do with the cloaks they have for another winter."

Thranduil had not heard anything past the statement 'Dieneryn leaving.' He had leaned towards Lindomiel, elbow and forearm on the desk. "What do you mean? What is this about Naneth going somewhere with Theniel and Sadorwen? Where are they going?" There was no place his mother would go when there was so much work to be done. And neither Theniel nor Sadorwen had left the capital since they moved here while the dwarves were still working on the stronghold. Nothing Lindomiel had said made any sense, but for some reason it made Thranduil very uneasy.

Lindomiel's expression went from irritated to surprised to concerned in swift succession. "Thranduil," she said softly, all the impatience gone from her voice. She leaned over the desk also, grasping his hand in hers. "Engwe has not...?" she began. "I thought he and Adar we going to...?" she tried again. "You have not spoken to your Naneth in the last few days?" she finally managed.

"She has not been coming to meals, as you well know," Thranduil answered. "I have been busy too, trying to get through all this," he gestured at a stack of papers. "Engwe and your parents have been taking care of her, I thought." He found he was having trouble breathing as Lindomiel bit her lip.

"Thranduil, Dieneryn has decided to...she is going West," Lindomiel said quietly. "She cannot be persuaded otherwise," she added quickly, in a stronger voice, when Thranduil pushed himself up from his desk.

"I can persuade her otherwise," he said, moving to leave the room while ignoring Lindomiel's attempt to catch the sleeve of his tunic.

"Do you think I have not tried, Thranduil?" Lindomiel whispered at his shoulder as they squeezed through the office door together. "And Adar and Engwe too? She is inconsolable, Thranduil. This was too much for her..."

"She has duties here," Thranduil countered, charging down the corridor of the family quarters.

"I have tried appealing to her sense of duty. We all have..."

"She is needed here," he continued. "The realm needs her."

"That is not enough, anymore," she said, still on his heels.

"I need her," he added in a whisper.

Lindomiel caught his wrist in a strong grip as he reached to knock on his mother's door. "Do not make this more difficult for her, Thranduil," she pleaded. "That is the most you can do for her at this point."

Thranduil frowned, pulled his wrist free and knocked on the door. Then he entered without waiting for a reply. Inside, Dieneryn was surrounded by a large group of people. Engwe had a chair pulled up next to hers, near the fireplace. Despite the fact that it was summer, a fire was crackling happily in the room. One of Dieneryn's hands was in Engwe's. Lindomiel's parents were standing on her other side. Limmiel was holding several articles of clothing for Dieneryn to look at. Amglaur appeared to be serving little purpose other than hovering sadly over Dieneryn. Theniel and Sadorwen were also present, sifting through two piles of clothing, hair ornaments, and other personal items. Finally, Thranduil's eyes lingered for a long moment on Sandethrin, the elf in charge of maintaining the family's clothing. He was pulling items from the smaller of the two stacks Theniel and Sadorwen were sorting through, folding them, and placing them in a large trunk that was nearly half full.

Thranduil's gaze shifted swiftly from the trunk to his mother. Looking at her, he nearly gasped out loud. She was thinner. That did not surprise him, because he knew she had hardly been eating. If that had been the only problem,  he could have taken it in hand and corrected it. But she looked fragile. Pale. Tired. Thranduil remembered seeing people who looked that tired before. In Sirion and Lindon and Mordor. And in Greenwood after returning from Mordor. Dieneryn's was the vacant gaze that simply could not bear to see anymore.

Thranduil closed his eyes and took a deep breath before stepping further into the room.

"Nana, what is this?" he whispered, kneeling on the stone floor next to her chair in order to place himself at her eye level. He took her free hand in his and felt her squeeze it--too weakly--as her eyes focused on him.

"I tried, Thranduil," she whispered, grief in her eyes and voice. "But I cannot...not any longer...not this time. I have lost my parents and my brothers and my husband and now my child. I do not want to lose you too, this way. But I have no choice. I will go, one way or another. And I want to go on my own terms. My own way. Please try to understand."

"I understand, Nana," he said quickly. Firmly. He was surprised at how his tone almost sounded convincing.

Dieneryn managed a faint smile.

*~*~*

In the silence of the empty Great Hall, Thranduil stared at the tapestry before him. It was one his mother had woven, depicting the moments before the opening charge of the first battle in Mordor. Thranduil was studying that tapestry for several reasons. Oropher featured prominently in the tapestry and one of the few comforts he could find in his mother's decision was that perhaps she would soon see Oropher again. Thranduil sincerely hoped she would, for that would certainly be a joy for both of them. But the primary reason his gaze was fixed on this tapestry was because it showed everyone--Oropher, Thranduil and Aradunnon in the center together with Engwe, Hallion, Golwon, Celonhael and his oldest son, Duinion. Amglaur, Amdir, Amroth were also there, in the background, but recognizable. Everyone together, as they should be. He missed that.

Soft foot steps made Thranduil turn around.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," Celonhael said, stepping down from the dais that held the throne. He had obviously slipped into the Great Hall from the hidden door behind the throne. "I was coming to fetch some papers from the scribes and I did not realize you were here. I thought you had gone to your office. I did not mean to disturb you." He hurried towards the table where the scribes normally worked, eyebrows raised at the fact that no one remained working. Petitions had only finished a little over an hour ago and they normally left the scribes with far more copying to do than they could finish before lunch. When he reached the table, Celonhael frowned and reached to put the stoppers in several jars of ink.

"I asked them to leave," Thranduil explained, turning back to the tapestry. "I wanted to be alone to look at this tapestry and to think." After a pause, he added, "I might have sounded a bit more...terse than I intended. They left very quickly."

"Would you prefer that I leave also, or would it help to talk about it?" Celonhael asked. His voice grew closer with each word.

Thranduil shook his head. "Talking will not help this. It will not stop it. That is obvious," Thranduil answered.

"You have heard of Dieneryn's decision then?" Celonhael asked softly, coming to stand beside him.

Thranduil turned to look at him sharply. "You knew already?"

Celonhael nodded. "You have buried yourself in work, Thranduil. That is your way when you are upset. But, yes, everyone has known, practically since we got back from the south, that Dieneryn would not be able to withstand this blow. It is much harder to lose a child than it is to lose anyone else, I think."

Thranduil remained silent. Celonhael, unfortunately, would be a good judge of that, having lost parents, sister and son himself. Thranduil clenched his teeth in an effort not to bite out at the unfairness of so much loss.

"Her only concern is how her decision will weigh upon you, given the grief you already suffer," Celonhael added, studying Thranduil closely.

"I will not slink to Valinor with my tail between my legs," Thranduil snapped, much more harshly than he intended. Even before he finished speaking, he was waving both hands in the air as if to erase his words. "I do not mean that the way it sounds," he rushed to say. "I do not begrudge Nana whatever she must do to find solace for her grief. I simply meant I would not find any comfort in Valinor. I find comfort here, in this forest, and I would never consider leaving it, no matter what promise another land might hold. Certainly not when it fights for its very life as it does now. I will fight with it. To the very end, if need be."

Celonhael placed a hand on his shoulder. "That is what I imagined you would say. I remember well how your spirits were lifted once we crossed the mountains ages ago."

Thranduil sighed. "So do I."

"I wish I could find something to lift them now, but perhaps only time can heal the wounds you carried home from the battle in the south."

Thranduil clenched his teeth again. "I am not grieving, to be honest," he finally said. "I am angry. I am angry at Aradunnon."

Celonhael's eyes widened. "Be angry at the orcs, I think," he admonished. "But not at your brother. He did not chose his fate."

"He did," Thranduil shot back. "Colloth told me and so did Galudiron...even Dolgailon... I did not ask him, because I do not want to make him talk about his adar's death, but he admitted to me that he is angry at his adar, though he will not tell me why...I can guess, given what Colloth and Galudiron said..."

"What did they say?" Celonhael asked.

"Aradunnon was too distracted by Galithil's presence to remain focused on the battle..."

"I think that is normal," Celonhael interrupted. "And forgivable. I cannot imagine how I would react to seeing Berior, at his age, unarmed, in a tree surrounded by orcs."

"Tulus, Tirithion and Pathon had the children as well protected as possible," Thranduil retorted. "But, according to Colloth, Aradunnon was yelling at Tulus, convinced he had brought the children south. He was swearing Tulus would regret it. He completely lost focus on the battle around him."

"And he paid for that mistake with his life," Celonhael reminded him.

"But he did not need to do so," Thranduil replied, raising his voice. Then he held up both hands, palms out. "I do not mean to take it out on you, Celonhael. But if I could get my hands on Aradunnon right now, I would shake him senseless. How could he be so stupid as to allow this grudge he holds against Tulus to lead him to make such terrible mistakes? He is too good a warrior to do that." Thranduil shook his head and again tried to speak more calmly. "So I am angry. Angry at him for allowing this to happen. Angry at him because Galithil has no father and Dolgailon is forced to take on such heavy responsibilities at such a young age and Nana is leaving..." Thranduil wiped his hands across his face. "I am angry at him," he said one more time, quietly. "And I miss him."

Celonhael only put his hand on Thranduil's shoulder again and gave it a squeeze.

Just as Thranduil was about to turn away from the tapestry and suggest they both return to work, he heard a clamor outside the doors of the Hall. Conuion's voice refusing someone entry. Thranduil recognized that easily and was not surprised, given that his guard had heard the way Thranduil had chased the scribes from the Hall. The other voice was higher pitched and growing louder as it demanded entry. Finally, the doors to the Hall opened and Conuion stepped in, looking for Thranduil and clearly about to ask for an audience for the insistent person outside. Before he could speak, the doors opened further and Brethil darted around Conuion and straight into the Hall. He ran directly towards Thranduil, stumbled the slightest bit when he saw Celonhael and then rushed to him.

"You have to come. Right now," Brethil demanded, pointing out the doors towards the Green. He was breathless and his voice was panicked.

"What has happened?" Thranduil and Celonhael asked at once. Celonhael grasped Brethil's arms to try to steady him. Movement at the back of the Hall drew Thranduil's attention. Crithad had stepped through the doors, confusion and concern on his face. Thranduil waved for him to enter and he rushed forward.

"We were playing," Brethil gasped out. "With Anastor and Noruil. They were too rough. Berior is hurt. It is Anastor's fault..."

"How is he hurt? And where?" Celonhael asked with a calm that Thranduil admired. All the more because it helped to calm Brethil as well.

Brethil sucked in a few more panting breaths. "Near the training fields. I think his shoulder is broken. Here," Brethil replied, pointing to his collarbone. "It is swollen and bleeding. Anastor and Noruil ran off. I tried to help Berior get up and walk back here, but it hurt him too much. So I told him I would go get help. You have to come right now," he demanded. And he seized both Celonhael and Thranduil's hands, intent upon dragging them from the Hall.

"Brethil," Crithad called firmly, grasping his son's shoulders.

"He is fine, Crithad," Thranduil said, reassuringly. He tightened his own hold on Brethil's hand. "Come lead us to Berior, Brethil."

Brethil nodded and tugged Thranduil from the Hall. Celonhael, Crithad and Conuion were right behind them. Brethil led them through the entry hall of the stronghold, through the Great Gates and over the bridge at a swift pace. Too many times, Thranduil had considered forbidding Legolas to associate with Anastor and Noruil. The adults in the family had debated the merits of such a decision, and the probability of successfully enforcing it, several times. This was not the first time Anastor and Noruil had led someone into injury, but Thranduil could not help but think, as he stepped onto the Green, that even they had sunk to a new low by running away instead of helping this time. They had never done that before.

They crossed the Green and, still pulled along by Brethil, were entering the forest, when they heard the sound of a dozen or so voices all talking at once. One person said they would go get a healer. Another asked if anyone had gone to fetch Celonhael. To that, Glílavan's voice answered that he thought Brethil had gone to the stronghold. Brethil tugged at Thranduil's hand and they all ran toward the voices until Berior came into view. He was surrounded by elves fussing over him in a way that Thranduil doubted helped at all. He was leaning against Glílavan, his face stained with tears and his right arm in a sling made of his tunic that tied his arm securely against his body.

"What happened here?" Celonhael asked, putting his arm gingerly around his son's waist and taking Glílavan's place by his side. He did not pause for an answer. Instead he continued walking Berior towards the stronghold.

Berior did not answer his father's question. He was obviously struggling not to cry, in part, no doubt, because at his age he did not want to cry in front of so many people. And in part, because doing so only made him hurt more.

Thranduil looked to Brethil for an answer to Celonhael's question. Now that Berior was found and on his way to receive help, Thranduil wanted to know what Brethil had meant by his statement that Anastor had been too rough. If Berior had fallen from a tree and injured himself, that was one thing. If he had been shoved from that tree, Thranduil would have quite a bit to say about that. But Brethil did not seem inclined to answer. In fact, he was carefully ignoring both Celonhael's question and Crithad's demands for an explanation.

Thranduil glanced at Glílavan, who was watching Celonhael lead Berior away. Glílavan looked irate. When he realized Thranduil was looking at him and met his gaze, Thranduil raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

"It is my fault, my lord," Glílavan said angrily. "I knew when Adar and I saw them practicing yesterday that I should have said something. Anastor and Noruil were behaving irresponsibly then. I blame myself for not putting a stop to it."

Thranduil shook his head slightly. "Practicing? Practicing what? Do you know how this happened?"

"Practicing their swords lessons," Glílavan responded. "They were letting Anastor and Noruil practice with them and those two were fooling around with Legolas and Galithil's practice swords rather than doing the footwork drills. I warned them not to do that, but I should have told Langon to supervise them better. I regret it now and I promise I will make sure Anastor and Noruil stay away from those swords from now on."

Thranduil stared at Glílavan for a long moment. "Do I understand you correctly? You saw Legolas, with Anastor and Noruil, playing with practice swords? And you think that is how Berior's shoulder was injured? He was playing with them just now?"

Glílavan nodded. "I am certain that is how he was hurt. He told me so."

"Glílavan!" Thranduil exclaimed, speaking loudly enough to make Glílavan jump slightly. "If you saw children with practice swords, why would you not take the swords away from them? What business do children have with swords?"

Now it was Glílavan's turn to look confused. "I thought.... That is, they told me.... Legolas and Galithil have sword lessons. That is why they have the practice swords," he tried to explain.

Thranduil shook his head. "Legolas and Galithil most certainly do not have sword lessons," he exclaimed. "They are thirty-five. They are years too young to enter the training program. You know that. You are its captain, for pity's sake! Why would you believe such a thing?"

Glílavan gaped at Thranduil. "Well," he stammered. "I thought," he repeated and then fell silent again, shaking his head and shrugging, his hands held wide apart. "Legolas is the King's son," he finally answered, obviously embarrassed and dismayed. "Who am I to question him when he tells me he is practicing his sword lesson? I have no right to question the word of the King's son!"

Thranduil had no response to that. But he was certain he would find one before he found Legolas.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum

Chapter 6: Confronting grief

"I do not want to tell you what to do, Legolas, but if I were you, I would go tell Glílavan and Tulus that you do not really have sword lessons. I mean, that is not something you are going to be able to hide forever," Galithil said while watching Legolas clean his paint brushes. His voice sounded funny because he was pinching his nose shut to block out the smell of turpentine.

Legolas felt his jaw clench involuntarily. It was not as if he did not know that. It was not as if they had not already discussed that. Thoroughly. Several times. "I told you," Legolas said, trying to keep his tone calm as he shook turpentine off the brushes and capped the jar containing the smelly cleaner quickly. "I was going to talk to Nana about it, but she was already cross with me about how we did not pay enough attention to Daernana when we were planting the seeds. She would have been even angrier if I had brought that up." He poured clean water into a bowl and reached for the bar of soap in his supply box.

"But you do not need to talk to your naneth. You need to talk to Glílavan," Galithil countered. "All you have to do is go to Glílavan's office and ask to speak to him. Or, better still, we could go talk to him in his cottage after you finish putting your paint brushes away. It is nearly lunch time, so Glílavan and Tulus will both be there. It will be perfect. You can talk to both of them at once. Easier that way. Gets it over with."

Legolas sighed loudly as he swished a brush around on the bar of soap, trying to work the remaining tint out of the bristles. "I suppose you would know," he said quietly.

Galithil glared at Legolas. "May I ask what that is supposed to mean?" he asked stiffly.

Legolas dropped the soapy brush into the water bowl and picked up two more to swirl on the soap at once. "That you have had to confess enough things like this that you ought to know what will make it easier, I suppose," he muttered.

Galithil sat up and crossed his arms over his chest.

Legolas waved the brushes in the air to erase his words, causing soap bubbles to spray across the table. "I am sorry. I am angry at myself. I should not take it out on you." He paused to wipe off the table with a clean rag. "Though I have wondered more than once recently how you manage to get in so much trouble without going crazy from it. For example, how do you not look guilty when you know you have done something wrong?" He peered sidelong at Galithil. "You never look guilty. I know I have looked guilty recently. I cannot imagine how you do it, that is all."

Galithil flopped against the back of his chair and shook his head. "Not looking guilty takes practice," he replied with a shadow of his mischievous grin playing across his face. "But I must say that I am enjoying not being in trouble for once. It feels good. Much better than the sick-in-the-stomach feeling I normally get when I know I am close to getting caught. Like you are now," he added pointedly. "I think I actually like staying out of trouble, to tell the truth."

Legolas laughed out loud in response to that. No tint stained the water in the bowl, so he deemed the brushes clean enough. Giving them a final swish for good measure, he removed them from the water one by one, wiped them on a clean rag and used his fingers to shape their bristles into their proper shapes. Then he laid them on a clean cloth to wrap them up. As he gathered up his remaining supplies, Galithil took the soapy water bowl to dump it.

"So will you go speak to Glílavan and Tulus now?" Galithil asked when he returned with the empty bowl.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "If it will make you stop asking, yes, I will," Legolas replied, not bothering to try to disguise his annoyance. He picked up the partially finished painting of Aradunnon and Amoneth and leaned it against the wall next to his dresser. There it would be safe and relatively hidden until tomorrow when he would work on it again. "Let me put this away first," he said, picking up his supply box when Galithil headed towards the door.

"You are stalling," Galithil teased.

"How much time could I possibly gain by putting this back in its place?" Legolas retorted. It was only a few steps to his bed where the box was stored. He placed the box on the floor and was just shoving it under the bed with his foot when the door of his room opened. "I am coming, Galithil!" he said irritably, assuming his cousin had opened the door to make it more difficult for him to find another excuse to avoid leaving. But when Legolas turned around, he saw Galithil was still standing next to the table. It was his father that had opened the door and he was charging into the room. Legolas straightened to face him.

"What are you hiding there under your bed?" Thranduil demanded, coming to a stop in the middle of the room between Legolas and Galithil. His dress robes swirled around his legs.

Legolas stared at his father. His face was flushed and his hands, balled in fists, were on his hips. He looked very much like he usually did after dealing with poachers in the forest.

"Nothing," Legolas answered, completely at a loss to explain why his father looked so angry. Surely he could not have already found out about the lie. He had been in petitions until only a short while ago. But guilt made Legolas's heart pound faster as he waited for his father to explain what he was doing in his room in the middle of the day when he should be working in the Great Hall or his office.

"I saw you put a box under your bed," Thranduil pressed, pointing to it. "Now show me what is in it."

Legolas frowned. "Adar, I did put a box under my bed, but it is nothing...."

"Show me what is in it right now, Legolas," Thranduil demanded. This time, he raised his voice.

Legolas's eyes widened. "It is nothing I am not allowed to have, Adar, I promise. But it is private...."

Thranduil did not ask again. He simply strode past Legolas, leaned on the mattress of the bed and reached under it for the box. Seizing it, he dragged it from under the bed and dropped it onto the mattress.

"Adar, please," Legolas exclaimed. He considered holding the lid of the box down when his father reached to lift it, but he thought better of it. He did put both his hands out, palms down, gesturing for his father to slow down and be careful. "That paint is wet, Adar," he warned as Thranduil reached to pick up the palette of paint that rested on top of the other materials in the box. He dropped it on the bed, making the paints jiggle as it landed on the mattress. Then Thranduil tossed aside the cloth that had been spread under the palette to protect the remaining contents of the box. "Adar, that is private," Legolas repeated. No longer able to restrain himself, he reached to still his father's hands. But Thranduil had already lifted the papers out of the box and he was staring at the charcoal pencils, brushes and other supplies still lying in its bottom.

"What is this?" Thranduil asked, his voice a little quieter and more uncertain. He was flipping through the papers, tossing them to the bed, one by one. Barad's picture floated down first. Then, more slowly, drawings and paintings of members of the family.

"It is private, Adar. That is what it is," Legolas replied, openly angry. His face was burning hot, possibly out of embarrassment because his father, an accomplished artist who had painted several of the murals in the stronghold, was now scrutinizing these amateurish portraits.  Possibly it was because Legolas was humiliated at having his privacy so rudely disregarded.  He was certainly not accustomed to this sort of treatment. "Please put them back in their box," he begged. "That is, if you are now satisfied that I am not hiding wolf cubs or dragon eggs under my bed."

Thranduil had been lingering over a painting of Lindomiel, but he let it and the other papers in his hand fall forgotten to the bed in response to Legolas's tone. Legolas did not care. He was furious just now and he wanted those pictures put away, not pawed through further.

"Govern your tongue," Thranduil snapped. "Wolf cubs and dragon eggs? No, I do not think you have those. Practice swords? Perhaps."

Legolas's heart skipped several beats at that.

"Do you have any other swords hidden here or somewhere else," Thranduil asked. "Other than the sword that Anastor just used to break your cousin's collarbone?"

"What?" Legolas whispered. The blood drained from his face so quickly that he swayed slightly on his feet. "Whose collarbone? Not Berior's?"

"Yes, Berior," Thranduil confirmed. "Brethil had to come find Celonhael and I for help, since Anastor ran away and Berior was in too much pain to walk without aid. When we went with Brethil to help Berior, Glílavan was already bringing him to the stronghold."

Legolas felt his heart stop at the mention of Glílavan's name .
 
"When he was explaining to me how Berior came to be injured," Thranduil continued, "Glílavan was kind enough to suggest to me that I have you supervised more closely during your sword lessons and he told me that he had suspected Anastor and Noruil were not mature enough to share them with you."

Legolas closed his eyes. He was caught. And in the worst possible way. Berior was injured and his father had heard about the stupid lie from Glílavan. There was no way this could be worse.

"You can imagine my surprise at that suggestion, since we both know that you do not have sword lessons," Thranduil said. "I asked Glílavan how he could possibly think you had sword lessons at your age and he said that you told him that you had lessons."

That is not entirely true, Legolas thought, but he did not have the courage to interrupt his father to correct him.

"I asked him why he would believe such a thing. No child has sword lessons at the age of thirty-five. You would be barely tall enough to draw a sword, for pity's sake. And do you know what Glílavan told me in reply, Legolas?"

Now, for the first time in this tirade, Thranduil paused.

Legolas opened his eyes and managed to look at his father. He appeared to expect an answer. "I do not know," Legolas whispered.

"He told me that it was not his place to question the word of the King's son. That is what he told me," Thranduil snapped and he glared at Legolas, waiting again for a response, seeming to dare Legolas to make one.

That was how this could be worse, Legolas thought. "Adar," he began softly, surprised at how difficult speaking seemed to be. He had no idea how to explain this.

But Thranduil cut him off. "Not a single word, Legolas," he ordered in a tone that silenced Legolas simply from the shock of having it directed at him. "You may tell me how you got the practice swords and whether you have any more of them. I do not want to hear anything else. After that, you are confined to your room."

That prompted Legolas to meet his father's still furious gaze with a frown of his own. "You do not intend to let me explain..." he asked. He wanted to at least tell him that he and Galithil had been on their way to confess the lie.

"Explain?" Thranduil exclaimed, cutting him off. "I told you that you could not have sword lessons. You got hold of practices swords and told Glílavan that you did have sword lessons. What else is there to explain, except where you got the swords. Now tell me that this instant," he demanded.

Legolas straightened his back and lifted his chin. It was not fair. He should at least have an opportunity to explain what he could. "I did not 'get the swords.' Anastor and Noruil already had them," he answered with a cold tone. "After they heard me ask for lessons and heard you say you would not allow them, they offered to let me use their practice swords..." Legolas was going to add 'but I refused their offer.' He was not given the chance.

"After they heard us discuss the sword lessons?" Thranduil interrupted. "The same day Conuion and I caught Anastor playing with my long knife? That was when they heard this and offered to let you use their practice swords?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes."

Thranduil scowled at that. "Tell me, Legolas, were you planning to use that knife for your private sword lessons with Anastor? Is that why you and he were playing with it?"

"No!" Legolas answered swiftly, raising his voice and not bothering to hide how insulted he was by that suggestion. He was not stupid enough to play with real weapons, even if Anastor was. He would have reminded his father that he had not 'played' with the knife at all. Anastor had taken it and refused to give it back. But, again, he was not given the chance.

"Govern your tongue," Thranduil warned again. "If Anastor and Noruil already had the practice swords, where did they get them then?" he asked, returning to his original line of questioning.

Legolas saw Galithil look at him. Legolas knew perfectly well that Galithil had stolen those swords from the training program, but given his father's unreasonable mood and his cousin's fragile state, he had no intention of admitting it. "I do not know for certain where they got the swords," Legolas answered without hesitation. "They did not tell me and I did not ask," It was not entirely a lie as he phrased it, but it was not entirely the truth either. Despite that, Legolas did not feel the slightest qualm saying it to shield Galithil and conceal his small part in this mess. Somewhere though, in the back of his mind, he was a little surprised by how easily he did this, especially given that only a week ago he had sworn to Galithil he would never cover for him again.

"Did you take them from the stronghold or from the weapons shed on the training fields?" Thranduil asked point blank.

Legolas blinked. "I just told you, I do not know where Anastor and Noruil got them. That statement precludes the possibility that I took them and gave them to Anastor and Noruil," he answered sharply.

Legolas watched his father tense in response to his impertinent answer. He looked like a wolf gathering himself before pouncing on his prey.

"I stole the swords from the training program," Galithil intervened quietly, stepping between Legolas and Thranduil.

Legolas closed his eyes as his father's wrath turned from him to Galithil.

"You stole them?" Thranduil asked, obviously surprised. "While cleaning and repairing the weapons--a task your adar entrusted you with--you stole some of them?"

Legolas's opened his eyes and his gaze darted to his cousin. Galithil was nodding his head without looking up. Legolas took a step forward. "Galithil does not need to be reminded of his adar. Not in that way. Not now," he said, interposing himself between Galithil and Thranduil.

Thranduil drew a sharp breath to reply, but before he could, Dieneryn rushed into the room. In his peripheral vision, Legolas saw his grandmother scan the room silently before calling his name.

"Legolas, Galithil," she said softly, coming to put an arm around Galithil and turning him towards the door. "Go wait in Galithil's room. Your adar needs to speak about this with your naneth before you and he talk about it any further." She gave Galithil a gentle push towards the door. Legolas felt a tug on his sleeve and realized she was trying to move him along as well.

"I am not finished here," Thranduil declared angrily, gesturing for Legolas and Galithil to stay where they were.

The tug on his sleeve became insistent. "Yes you are," Dieneryn replied firmly. She shepherded Legolas and Galithil out of the room and called for a servant to go fetch Lindomiel.

*~*~*

"Raised voices are rarely employed in rational conversations, ion nin. I think you know that," Dieneryn was saying. Her voice was soft, her tone disappointed, but the words were enough to boil Thranduil's blood.

If anyone else had spoken to him thusly, especially at this moment, Thranduil would have responded so heatedly that the person would have turned into a little puff of ashes on the spot. As it was his mother, Thranduil ground his teeth together in an effort to remain silent.

"Indeed, Thranduil," Lindomiel agreed. She was still somewhat breathless from having rushed up from the kitchens at the urging of an obviously concerned servant. "It does not set an appropriate example of how respectable people resolve their differences. I cannot approve of you raising your voice to Legolas, no matter what he has done."

"Legolas lied to Glílavan, the captain of the training program, an officer he will soon serve under," Thranduil ground out, managing to refrain from raising his voice now. "He told Glílavan that he had my permission to have sword lessons and to use practice swords that Galithil stole. Because of these lies--because Anastor had a practice sword--Berior's collarbone is broken," .

Lindomiel and Dieneryn both gasped and covered their mouths with their hands. "Berior is hurt? How did it happen?" Lindomiel exclaimed.

"How badly?" Dieneryn added, turning towards the sitting room door, intending to go to Berior. Lindomiel looked after her, also obviously tempted to go, but torn because she needed to see about her own son as well.

"Not badly, from what I saw," Thranduil reassured them. "Apparently Anastor hit him with a practice sword. Glílavan had already put his arm in a sling and Celonhael was taking him to Nestoreth when I left them to speak to Legolas. I imagine Berior has already been fed a sleeping draught in some tea and will be oblivious through the worst of it."

Lindomiel appeared marginally comforted by that. Then she frowned, apparently registering the rest of what Thranduil had said. "Legolas told Glílavan that he had your authority to use practice swords that Galithil stole from the training program? I find that very difficult to believe," she said, looking to Thranduil for the rest of the explanation.

Thranduil shook his head and spread his hands wide. "Do not ask me how all this came to be," he exclaimed.

"Well, what did Legolas tell you? Is that not what you and he were yelling about?" Lindomiel asked.

"I heard Thranduil yelling," Dieneryn answered before Thranduil could respond. "From my own room, with my door closed, I could hear this conversation. From what I heard, Legolas had little opportunity to speak."

Lindomiel pivoted to face Thranduil, her mouth open slightly in disbelief. "Is that true? You did not even give him a chance to explain what happened before you started yelling at him?"

"Lindomiel! What explanation could there possibly be?" he asked, no longer able to hide his anger. "Legolas was caught doing something I had specifically forbidden him to do and he claimed he had my authority to be doing it. To an officer. How could he possibly explain that?"

"We do not know how he could explain it, because you did not give him a chance to try, is that correct? Lindomiel asked. Thranduil nodded his head and Lindomiel adopted a disgusted look. "You gave your own son a less just hearing than you grant criminals in your court?" she asked. "Thranduil, I am appalled."

Thranduil drew a sharp breath to defend himself, held it for a moment as he tried to think of something he could say, and then released it as quietly as he could when he could not find any way to respond to Lindomiel's accusation. She was correct. His treatment of Legolas had not been just. And that realization only made Thranduil angrier, this time at himself. He turned away from his mother and wife and reached for the decanter of wine that sat on a table near the chairs arranged around the fireplace.

As Thranduil poured himself a goblet of wine, Dieneryn spoke into the silence. "Lindomiel told me several days ago that Legolas had asked you for sword lessons, but you refused. She mentioned that she told Legolas she would try to persuade you to let him have them after the pain of recent events had faded a bit."

Thranduil turned and stared at Lindomiel, eyebrows raised. How could she possibly believe a child so young should have sword lessons. Swords were not bows. They were not used for hunting. To provide food. They were used for nothing other than warfare. Legolas was too young to be learning such lessons.

"I do not understand your refusal to allow these lessons, Thranduil," Dieneryn continued. "You had sword and archery lessons at Legolas's age. Dolgailon had them at Legolas's age. I cannot imagine why you would deny Legolas the same lessons now. But I recognize that Legolas's upbringing is for you and Lindomiel to manage, not me. I have always tried to avoid interfering, unless my opinion was solicited and I will not interfere now." She paused. "But I am still your naneth and, though you may be an adult, I still have the right to at least call it to your attention when your behavior is inappropriate. The way you treated Legolas when you entered his room earlier was inappropriate. When I took Legolas and Galithil into Aradunnon's suite, while we were waiting for Lindomiel to come up from the kitchen, Legolas told me that you insisted that he open a box he had under his bed? After he told you it was private and contained nothing he was forbidden to have? Is that true?"

Lindomiel again turned to stare at Thranduil.

He scowled. "A box of artwork. There is no reason why he should have refused to show it to me, unless he had something he was not allowed to have in it," he said. He saw nothing inappropriate in his demand to see the contents of that box, especially under the circumstances.

Dieneryn's brow furrowed disapprovingly. "But you did not find anything in the box that Legolas was not allowed to have. He refused to open it because he did not want to share his artwork with you or anyone else. And that is his prerogative, Thranduil. Legolas is thirty-five years old. It is natural, at his age, for him to expect and receive some degree of privacy. You were wrong to make him open that box and he is very upset about it."

"He is upset? I had just found out that he had practice swords, naneth," Thranduil responded. Again he refrained from snapping at her only with great effort. "Practice swords that Berior was injured with. And then I see him hiding a box under his bed? I think it is natural that I would be suspicious of what that box contained."

"Legolas told you it was was nothing and that it was private," Dieneryn replied.

"And I had just heard that he had lied about sword lessons. He might have been lying about the contents of the box," Thranduil retorted.

"Nonsense!" Dieneryn replied. "You have not given Legolas any chance to explain this supposed lie he has been accused of making. When has Legolas ever baldly lied to you or anyone else?"

"Never," Thranduil admitted after a long silence.  

Dieneryn came over to Thranduil and faced him, putting both her arms around his neck and drawing him into an embrace. "You are grieving, Thranduil. You are not entirely yourself. Can you not see that?"

Thranduil nodded. "Yes, nana. I do see that," he admitted.

Dieneryn squeezed his shoulders. "You are grieving in your own way. You have seen death before and you know what you need to do to face it and to best get past it," she whispered. Then pulled him back to arms length, with a hand grasping each of his shoulders, and she fixed him with a pleading look. "Legolas and Galithil have never seen death before. They may have seen Candirith and Himion die, but they were not close to those guards. Those guards were not their adar or their uncle, nor their naneth or aunt. They do not know how to deal with the death they have just witnessed. Perhaps sword lessons is what they think they need to feel safe and when you refused them that, they knew no other recourse than to take matters into their own hands. They need your guidance, rather than your anger, to help them manage their grief."

Thranduil wiped his hand across his face. He knew she was right. After a moment, he pulled one of his mother's hands from his shoulder and held it between both of his. "You are right, nana," he said quietly. "I cannot help my son or my brother's son by taking my own anger at Aradunnon out on them. I was wrong and I will tell them that." He turned to look at Lindomiel. "And I will give Legolas and Galithil a chance to speak, I promise, Lindomiel."

Lindomiel walked over to him, placed a kiss on his cheek and slipped her hands around his waist, leaning against him. "I think you had better spend some time mastering yourself before you speak to them though."

He nodded, unable to deny he was still far too tense to face any discussion with Legolas.

*~*~*

Thranduil sat at his desk. Though it was the time of day when he would normally be writing orders and other correspondence, he was not even pretending to work. Instead he was alone, endeavoring to master his temper, as Lindomiel and Dieneryn had suggested he do. He felt a bit like a child sent to his room to think about his misdeeds, but Thranduil could not deny that they were right. His wife's accusation of injustice--'a less just hearing than you grant criminals in your court' --stung more than Thranduil liked to admit. Especially since he knew she was correct.

He simply could not imagine what Legolas thought he could say to begin to excuse what he had done.

Thranduil took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Then he stood and paced from behind his desk past the table in the office, to the door and back to the desk. If he tried to be reasonable, which was difficult, he doubted Legolas completely understood everything that he did wrong. Someone was going to have to explain to him the impact of such a lie, to an officer, especially given Legolas's place in this realm. The word of the King's son, as Glílavan had put it. He knew he was going to have to be in much better control to properly impress the importance of that explanation on Legolas. Unfortunately, the impending loss of his mother, so soon after losing Aradunnon and Amoneth, did not serve to sooth Thranduil's temper. He blew out another breath and sat heavily in one of the chairs at the table in an effort to stop pacing. It was only making him more tense.

A knock on the office door caused him to spin towards it. "I told you that it would not be wise to interrupt me," Thranduil practically growled as the door to his office opened a crack. He frowned as the person opening it hesitated only a moment and then stepped fully into the room. It was Tulus, dressed wearing the ornaments of his new position as a member of the King's guard, and towing a plainly reluctant Glílavan behind him.

"I understand that you are...currently preoccupied, my lord," Tulus said. His voice was quiet, still holding a bit of the nervousness that Tulus occasionally displayed in the King's presence, but it was determined. "Glílavan mentioned to me what happened with Berior and what he told you when you and he spoke afterwards. We agreed that we have more information on this topic that you need to hear and I beg you to listen to us." He had undoubtedly concluded his request as he did in response to the growing irritation in Thranduil's expression.

Having just been admonished for not giving Legolas a fair hearing, Thranduil was not anxious to do the same to Tulus and Glílavan.  He gestured for them to join him at the table. Not speaking allowed him to better hide his impatience.

Tulus sat, as he always did, on the edge of his chair as if he wanted to flee, hands tightly clasped in his lap. Glílavan studied his father's posture a long moment and then looked at Thranduil with an openly worried expression.

Thranduil was in no mood to attempt to allay their fears. "What did did you want to tell me?" he asked brusquely.

Tulus looked at his son expectantly and, under his father's eye, Glílavan straightened and seemed to find his courage. "When you and I were discussing how Berior came to be injured, I may not have spoken as...precisely as I should have, my lord," Glílavan began in a voice that was almost normal. He was even managing to meet Thranduil's gaze until Thranduil raised his eyebrows. Then Glílavan looked down at his hands in his lap, something Thranduil had seen Tulus do many time before. "I said that Legolas told me that he had sword lessons, and, thinking back more carefully, I realize that is not exactly how it happened."

"What?" Thranduil asked, leaning forward. A wave of guilt washed over him. If he had just spent the better part of the day yelling first at Legolas and then at Lindomiel for no reason what-so-ever, he would never live down the fact that he had not given Legolas a chance to defend himself! But Legolas had not tried to deny what he had been accused of. Surely if he had not been involved with the supposed sword lessons at all, he would have declared that outright.

Glílavan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "You see, it was not Legolas that said he had sword lessons. It was actually Anastor that claimed Legolas had sword lessons."

The frown returned to Thranduil's face. "If Legolas did not correct that lie, if he allowed you to believe it, there is no difference between that and telling the lie himself. That sort of behavior is not something I will have the slightest tolerance for, Glílavan. Legolas knows that. He was raised better."

"No doubt about that, my lord," Tulus interjected quietly.

Thranduil focused on Tulus, relieved that he thought that despite the evidence to the contrary that Legolas had supplied.  

"If you will let Glílavan continue, you will see that Legolas did make some effort to correct that lie, even if he was not successful in doing so," Tulus finished.

Thranduil looked back at Glílavan expectantly. "I would very much like to hear how Legolas could possibly intend to speak, but fail to do so. In my experience, Legolas does not have any problems expressing himself."

Tulus laughed at that. "Indeed not, which is why his behavior during this conversation was so suspect--he was not expressing himself as forcefully as he normally does at all. But Glílavan does not know Legolas well enough to recognize that. I do." He looked at his son. "Tell him, Glílavan."

Glílavan nodded and spoke quickly, clearly anxious to end this conversation. "Legolas did try to tell me something after Anastor claimed he had sword lessons. I was not really paying attention to him. You see, from my point of view, whether or not Legolas had permission to have those swords, Anastor and Noruil certainly did not have permission to play with them and that is what they were doing, so my first priority was to try to stop that. And then Anastor said something about Legolas not having to do the footwork drills Langon is famous for..."

That caused Thranduil to laugh disbelievingly. "Anyone would recognize that as a lie! If I did those despicable drills for what seemed like an entire Age, you may rest assured Legolas will do them too," he could not help but mutter.

"Precisely!" Glílavan exclaimed, taking encouragement from the King's apparent agreement with his point of view. "So I was lecturing them about the importance of the footwork drills. You have to understand, I have been an officer in the training program for thirty-five years. Lecturing about these thing comes naturally at this point. I did not realize Legolas was trying to tell me something entirely different. When he said he was only there to get his cousins to go plant seeds, I did not understand him to mean that he did not have sword lessons. I thought he only meant he was not there to have a lesson at that moment. So I told him, when he practiced in the future, to not to let Anastor play with his swords and I told him to be sure to not let Langon catch him playing with them. I thought I was giving him good advice. I did not realize I was not listening to what he was trying to tell me."

Thranduil thought about that silently for a long moment, feeling that wave of guilt threatening him again. Then he looked at Tulus. "So you were listening to Legolas during this interchange? Do you think he did the best he could to contradict Anastor's lie?"

Tulus pressed his lips into a thin line. "The best he could?" he repeated after a moment. "No," he admitted quietly, "not the best he could. But he did seem to be trying to correct it. He just kept getting interrupted until finally, the other children, including Berior and Brethil, pulled him away."

Thranduil scowled in response to that assessment. Apparently his mother and wife were completely correct. A discussion with Legolas to determine what precisely had been his intent was certainly in order. And Thranduil was curious about one other detail. "Where was Galithil through all this? Did he also try to correct Anastor, or was he one of the children trying to pull Legolas off before he had the chance to correct him?" he asked.

"Galithil was not there at all, my lord," Tulus answered and Glílavan nodded his head in agreement.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows at that.

*~*~*

Nearly an hour after Tulus and Glílavan had taken their leave of him, Thranduil emerged from his office in a considerably calmer mood. He even managed a faint smile to the guard that snapped to attention when he opened his office door. He walked down the corridor, not entirely decided upon his destination and he paused outside the door to Galithil's chambers. He wondered if both Galithil and Legolas were still there after being herded into it so unceremoniously earlier that afternoon.  He was considering checking on them, but before he could even fully turn towards the door to open it, Lindomiel emerged from the sitting room.

"I need to tell you something before you speak to them," she said urgently.

He raised his eyebrows as she rushed toward him.

"Crithad brought Brethil to see you, but since you were gathering yourself in your office, I insisted they speak to me instead," she said, taking his arm as if to hold him in place. "Brethil, at his adar's urging, was here to confess to you that he was with Legolas yesterday when Glílavan caught them with the practice swords. Brethil said he thought Legolas intended to tell Glílavan the truth, but he and Berior did not want him to do it, so they pulled him off before he could. He said they did it because they wanted to be able to use the swords that Anastor and Noruil had. They knew Glílavan would confiscate them if he learned the truth. And Brethil said it was not Legolas that made up the lie..."

"It was Anastor that did it," Thranduil finished, pulling Lindomiel's hand from his arm, raising it to his lips and kissing it.

Lindomiel smiled at the gesture. "How did you know that?" she asked.

"Tulus and Glílavan came to speak to me. In order to more accurately report what happened yesterday, they said," Thranduil explained.

"I told your guard not to let anyone bother you. He intercepted Crithad. I wonder why he did not intercept Tulus as well," Lindomiel mused.

"Most likely because Tulus is one of my guards now. He can enter any room in this stronghold, including the one I am in, if he feels he is justified. No one will stop him," Thranduil answered. He did appreciate her efforts to ensure his privacy while he calmed down.

Lindomiel looked up at him, sidelong, with a teasing expression. "It seems it is just as well that they were able to speak to you. And you listened to them, at least."

Thranduil was pleased, as well as surprised, to see that Lindomiel's gentle barb did not inflame his temper. He kissed her cheek. "I think I will go listen to Legolas and Galithil now," he said, giving her hand on his arm a pat before releasing it and turning towards Galithil's door.

*~*~*

Legolas and Galithil both jumped to their feet and watched Thranduil warily as he entered the room alone. Legolas was still angry at his father. On the one hand, he knew he brought a good portion of this treatment on himself. He should not have allowed Anastor's lie to go uncorrected. But even so, Legolas did not really think that gave his father the right to disregard his privacy. He knew it did not give his father the right to refuse to allow him to defend himself to the extent he could.

Thranduil sat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace in the main room of the suite and gestured for Legolas and Galithil to join him.

They silently went and stood in front of him. Legolas made a conscious effort to make his face as expressionless as possible, lest his anger be misconstrued as defiance and earn him even more trouble.

"Let us try this again," Thranduil began in a very quiet, neutral tone of voice. "Legolas, please explain to me why Glílavan believes you have sword lessons."

For a brief moment, surprise showed on Legolas's face before he did his best to return his father's gaze blandly. At least his father wanted to listen now. Well, Legolas was determined to tell as much of the story as he could all at once in case his father lost his temper again. So he started speaking in a rush. "Glílavan caught us--Berior, Brethil, Anastor, Noruil and I--with two practice swords in the forest yesterday. As I already told you, Anastor suggested to me that we should practice with them on our own, since you would not allow us to have lessons. At first I told him I would not do it, but then I changed my mind and I did go with them two days ago to practice with the swords. Since then, I had already changed my mind about doing it again," Legolas hurried to add. "Well, to be honest, after you told Galithil and I about the guards, I decided it would be impossible to hide it, so I was not going to do it anymore," he admitted. "Yesterday, I had only gone to get Berior and Brethil to take them to plant seeds with daernana, when Glílavan caught us. And it was not me that told Glílavan that I have sword lessons. Anastor made that up. I tried to tell Glílavan it was not true. I meant to tell him. But he kept interrupting me, talking about drills, and Anastor swung at me with the sword to divert the conversation." Legolas watched anger flare in his father's eyes in response to that, so he hurried on without pausing to give his father an opportunity to interrupt. "So I never got a chance to tell Glílavan the truth. But I swear to you, just as you came in to tell us what happened to Berior, Galithil and I were on our way out to speak to Glílavan and tell him the truth. We were just saying how we ought to be able to catch both Glílavan and Tulus eating lunch in their cottage together, so we could tell them both at the same time." Legolas watched an eyebrow go up in response to that. "It is true, Adar, I swear it. And it is also true that Galithil had nothing to do with this..."

"Legolas," Galithil warned.

"Quiet, Galithil," he ordered, without looking at his cousin. "You did not have anything to do with it. Galithil refused to go practice with the swords from the first time Anastor suggested it and every time afterward. He never went with us and he told me not to go either. And if he took the practice swords, he did it a long time ago. And I never saw him play with them. Ever. I did not even know Anastor and Noruil had the swords until two days ago, So I do not think Galithil should be in trouble. Only I should be."

Thranduil turned to Galithil. "True?" he asked, quietly. "Did you refuse to participate in these sword lessons? And what is the whole story behind how Anastor came to have the swords?"

Galithil looked down at his feet. "I did refuse to participate in the sword lessons, because I promised you that I would not do anything else stupid and I mean to keep that promise. But I did steal the swords. As Legolas said, it was a long time ago. Years ago. I took them from the training program's weapons shed, played with them a few times with Anastor and Noruil and I never really saw them again. But I knew when I took them that what I was doing was wrong. I knew it violated the trust Adar put in me. I do not expect it to go unpunished."

Legolas loosed a frustrated sigh in response to that.

"Even if you did that 'years ago,' Galithil, I do not think I can ignore it now," Thranduil replied gently. "It was indeed very wrong. I think I will suggest to Dolgailon that you not be permitted to return to the duty of cleaning the training weapons for at least a few months, but that will be his decision, as troop commander. I do insist that you tell both Dolgailon and Glílavan, since he is now the captain of the training program, that you took those swords and apologize for it. And the swords must be returned to Dolgailon. I will tell him to expect them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, uncle," Galithil replied.

"I suppose it is a waste of my time to ask if you alone took the swords or if you had some help in that deed?" Thranduil asked.

Galithil remained silent and did not look at Thranduil.

"Very well," Thranduil replied.

Legolas rolled his eyes at his cousin's insistence on protecting Anastor and Noruil.  They were certainly involved. Fortunately, there was no doubt his father knew that as well.

Thranduil leaned forward in his chair enough to grasp Galithil's arm and give it an encouraging squeeze. "I do not doubt that it was difficult for you to refuse to go with your cousins to play with the practice swords. I am very proud of you for not doing it."

Galithil did not look up. Instead he bit his lower lip and nodded.

Thranduil released Galithil's arm and turned back to Legolas. "I would like to better understand why you would do such a thing, Legolas. Outright disobedience is not like you at all. Nor is lying. Though I do give you credit for whatever efforts you might have made to correct the lie, I confess I am very surprised you did not simply call it out for what it was when Anastor said it."

Legolas grimaced, but he also nodded. "I do regret not doing that, Adar," he said earnestly. "I said to Galithil yesterday that the way I left things with Glílavan was a mess. I should have just said 'that is a lie' the moment Anastor told the lie, but I..." he frowned and looked down. "For a moment I thought it might work. If Tulus believed that, then he would not question it if he saw us using the practice swords and we would be able to continue practicing. I knew the moment I thought it that it was wrong, not to mention stupid, and destined to fail because Tulus would surely innocently mention the supposed sword lessons to someone at some point. But in the time it took me to think that through, Glílavan was already going on about foot work drills and...I lost my opportunity to fix it immediately."

"Are you telling me that if you were certain you could have gotten away with it, you would not have corrected the lie?" Thranduil asked. There was now a definite edge on his voice that he could not conceal.

Legolas stood a little straighter. He was not afraid to have this argument with his father, even if Galithil was shooting him a warning glare. "The lie?," he began. "No, I was never really tempted to try to get away with the lie. Glílavan is a captain. I know I can not lie to him and expect him to trust me when I serve under him. So I would not have let the lie go uncorrected, even if I was certain I could get away with it for a while. But practicing with the swords, even though you had told us we could not do it..." Legolas paused and met Thranduil's gaze unflinchingly. "I will not deny that, if not for the fact that you intended to assign us guards, making it impossible to get away with, I would have done it. I do not think it was fair of you to refuse us that training without even listening to why we wanted it, especially when you had the same training when you were my age."

Galithil loosed a quiet whistle and shook his head.

Thranduil's posture stiffened considerably. "Your daernaneth told you I had weapons training as a child, did she?" he asked.

Legolas frowned. "No, you did. You said you fought with your own sword when Menegroth was attacked by the dwarves. If you had your own sword, it stands to reason you were training to use it. Why would you have a sword if you could not use it for anything? That would be a waste of a valuable weapon. And you were our age when Menegroth was attacked. So, you must have had sword lessons when you were our age."

"I was forty," Thranduil countered.

"Small difference," Legolas replied. "And even so, you were forty when Menegroth was first attacked. And at that time, you knew how to fight well enough to kill a dwarf, so you must have had some training before then. When you were our age," Legolas argued.

Thranduil shook his head. "So you feel that you are justified in disobeying me because, when I was young, I had sword lessons, but I will not agree to allow you to have the same lessons?" he asked, with an obvious effort to keep his tone even. "Legolas, I was the High King's nephew. My adar and both my daeradars were captains of his warriors. Doriath was under constant threat from the forces of Morgoth. It was my station in life to become a warrior and fight to defend Doriath. Naturally I had weapons training."

Legolas laughed at that, assuming his father must be joking, because it was the single most flawed argument Legolas had ever heard. Then he gaped at his father when he appeared to be serious. A glance at Galithil showed he was staring at Thranduil incredulously as well. "Adar," Legolas finally said. "I am not the King's nephew, though if that argument was sufficient for you, it must logically be sufficient for Galithil as well. He is more closely your nephew than you were Thingol's nephew. But if the King's nephew may hope to be a captain and expect weapons training from a young age, surely the King's son," he said, pointing to himself, "may expect the same. I am the King's first born son and his heir. Surely, I am expected to know something about warfare."

Thranduil frowned angrily. "Legolas, there is some difference between me and the High King of the Sindar. There is a difference between this realm and Doriath. You are a child. You have no clear idea, as yet, what any of this means. What it means when you say you are the King's son or refer to 'knowing something' about warfare."

"I disagree that we know nothing about warfare," Galithil said quietly without looking at Thranduil. His expression was hard. "I watched my adar die in battle."

"Indeed," Legolas said, nodding at his cousin. "As did I." Then turned back to his father. "I may be a child, but Daeradar obviously believed that, at my age, you were capable of grasping the importance of your future responsibilities to your realm. He did give you weapons training. I am frankly insulted that you do not give me the same credit, adar. And I assure you, I do understand certain aspects of what it means to be the King's son. For example, I understand that if it had been you and not uncle Aradunnon that had been killed in that battle, I would no longer be the King's son. I would be King. Hallion would surely be forced to try to hold this realm together until I came of age, but I completely understand that his duty would be made more or less difficult for him by my actions and the people's perceptions of them. This realm would be more or less stable due to the people's perceptions of me and my ability to take up the role of King in fifteen short years. And I find it impossible to believe that the people of this realm would not like to believe that their King, and his heir, would be capable of defending this realm, given that it, like Doriath, is under constant threat from the forces of Morgoth's servant, Sauron. You cannot possibly believe that I am not justified in asking for weapons training," he concluded, breathing heavily.

"Legolas, you need to be quiet," Galithil whispered fiercely.

Legolas did not acknowledge him and he did not flinch or look away his from father's gaze. He knew his tone had been very sharp, but he did not care. He felt he was right. This was something that had been festering in his mind since the day Berior had joked about difficult duties to inherit. And he was glad to have it out in the open for discussion. He wanted to hear what his father would say about it.

But Thranduil said nothing. He merely studied Legolas silently for several long moments before he spoke.

"Are you telling me," he finally asked, "that you feel these sword lessons are your right in order to better prepare you in the event that I am killed in a battle? You have given thought to what my death would mean for you, not only personally, but with regards to your obligations to this realm?"

Legolas's brows furrowed and he looked at Thranduil incredulously. "Yes, that is exactly what I just said!" he practically shouted, astonished that his father seemed so incapable of understanding what he was saying. "What manner of fool would not have thought about it, especially in light of everything that has happened over the last week?"

As he spoke, Legolas witnessed a sight he had never seen before. He saw his father completely lose his composure. Thranduil's elbow came to rest on the arm of his chair and he covered his eyes with his hand. A moment later his hand slid down his face to cover his mouth. He propped himself up in this manner, face in his hand. Then he opened his eyes and stared at Legolas, horror winning a battle with pride in his expression.

"I did not think about it," Thranduil admitted, his voice a whisper. "Standing on the Dagorlad with an army of a thousand elves, facing a fortress of ten thousand orcs and Sauron himself--it never occurred to me that my adar might not survive that battle."

"And I have heard you say several times that you felt overwhelmed, even under-prepared, when you became King of this realm," Legolas responded quietly. "While I would prefer to never need the preparation, I want it just the same. I am fully aware that is the purpose of our lessons with master Rodonon. But those lessons are lacking in one area: military training."

Thranduil studied him for another long moment before he turned to Galithil. "Your thoughts on this matter? Have you and Legolas spoken about this?"

"I did not want Legolas to have to think about...such things, so I never mentioned it to him and I did not know he was thinking about it. We did not talk about it," Galithil answered, looking at Legolas.

Legolas met his gaze. "I did not want you to think anymore on your adar's death than need be. There was no way I could have talked about this with you without bringing it up."

Galithil nodded. "But I did think about it," he said, looking back to Thranduil for a moment before looking down. "I feel badly for Dolgailon, seeing him work so hard to adapt to his new duties. That is why I want to help him. To do what I can to ease his burden, since it is my fault Adar died. And because I want to be worthy of taking up that responsibility should anything ever happen to Dolgailon."

Legolas hated that Galithil had also been thinking about this unpleasant topic, but he felt a flash of anger at something else his cousin had said. "Your adar's death is not your fault, Galithil. Stop saying that," he demanded harshly.

To Legolas's surprise, Thranduil reacted to the same thing. "What do you mean, 'since it is your fault' your adar died? Galithil, surely you know it is not your fault. You cannot possibly believe that." As he spoke, he stood, grasped Galithil by both his shoulders and was looking at him intently.

Galithil looked away. "Of course it is my fault, Uncle. Adar was distracted by trying to get to me. Because he wanted to help me. If I had not been there, Adar would not have been killed."

"If the orcs had not been there, your adar would not have been killed," Legolas countered. "Please tell him that, Adar," he implored.

Thranduil pulled Galithil against him, in an embrace that Galithil tried to escape, but Thranduil held him fast. "Galithil, Legolas is right. If the orcs had not been there, your adar would not have been killed," he repeated, voice rough with emotion. "If your adar had not been so foolish--so blinded by anger at Tulus for something he did thousands of years ago--he would be alive today. If anyone other than orcs is to blame for your adar's death, it is he himself, not you."

Galithil pushed Thranduil away. "It is not adar's fault that he died," he yelled.

Thranduil again reached for Galithil's shoulders, ignoring his attempts to throw off his hands. "Galithil, Dolgailon told me that your adar was yelling at Tulus for bringing you south. He assumed Tulus was somehow responsible for you being there. He did not trust Tulus to keep you and Legolas safe, despite the fact that Tirithion and Pathon were also with you. Despite the fact that Tulus had once been one of my guards and therefore knew better than anyone else present what was expected to keep you safe--an action he proved himself capable of taking. Your adar refused to trust him to do that duty for you and Legolas because he could not accept the fact that Tulus had repented of his crimes. Because he insisted upon holding a grudge against Tulus for this entire Age, despite Tulus's efforts to redeem himself. Since your adar was focused on threatening Tulus, he was not focused on the battle as he should have been."

"Adar was not focused on Tulus. He was focused on me. On trying to keep me safe. That is why he was not focused on the battle and that is why he died. And Dolgailon knows that. He is angry about it. Angry at me."

"Dolgailon is angry, just as I am, but not at you. Galithil, stop and think for a moment. Try to put emotion aside and just think. You were with Tulus. He, Tirithion and Pathon were already protecting you and Legolas. You were in the trees. Did your adar's actions accomplish anything but to bring attention to you? Would it have not been wiser of him to focus on ending the battle as quickly as possible? On making sure no orcs escaped past his position to approach yours? If he wanted to keep you safe, would that not be the best way to do it?"

"He should not have had to protect me. I should not have been there."

"As Legolas said, neither should the orcs have been there. You are not at fault for this, Galithil. No one blames you for it. Not me and certainly not Dolgailon. No one wants you to blame yourself. I cannot believe the thoughts that have been going through your minds." He looked at Legolas. "Both of you. I expected you were grieving, of course. But, not like this. To be worrying about the future of this realm at your age." He pulled Galithil against him again. "Or blaming yourself for Aradunnon's mistakes. I have obviously not given either of you the attention you needed. I promise I will address that somehow. Immediately."

Legolas was pleased that someone else--an adult--had finally told Galithil what he had been telling him all week  about his father's death. He was so pleased that he managed to refrain from suggesting that the best way for his father to give them the attention they needed would be to give them swords lessons. He knew he was not out of trouble yet, despite his father's temporary distraction.

*~*~*

Adar/ada--Father/dad
Naneth/nana--Mother/mum
Daeradar/daernaneth--Grandfather/grandmother
elleth--female elf

Chapter Seven: Support

Legolas dropped his brush in the jar of turpentine on the table next to him and took a step back to study his painting. Without taking his eyes from it, he reached for a knife and mixed a little deep violet paint into the blue that he had used for the dress Amoneth was wearing. Then he picked up a clean, flat brush and began applying shadows under the embroidery he had just finished painting on the dress. As he worked, the embroidery slowly came to look as if it were actually sewn on the canvas, not merely painted there. He stuck the wooden end of the brush in his mouth as he looked for anywhere else on the dress that needed a touch of shadow. Holding the brush between his teeth, he used the little finger on his right hand to blend the paint under a button on Aradunnon's tunic just a bit more smoothly and he reached to set the palette in his left hand on the table. The painting was almost finished. He would just deepen the shadows a bit in some of the folds of the clothing and maybe add a little more light on Aradunnon's hair to really bring out the silver in it. Then he would be satisfied.

He glanced at his supply of paints as he cleaned dark blue stains off his finger with a rag soaked in turpentine. He would need to ask Uncle Celonhael for more red pigment. A lot of it had gone into this painting and he was almost out. At least that pigment was easy to acquire, since the bugs it was made from were plentiful in the forest and Arthiel did not mind scraping them off oak leaves when she was about her other forester duties with Master Ruscil.

"Legolas," a quiet voice called, interrupting his thoughts.

He jumped, caught completely at unawares, and spun around to face the voice. It was his father. He stood in the open doorway--Legolas knew he had closed that door before he dragged his supplies from under the bed--and he was frankly studying the painting. Resisting the urge to step in front of it, Legolas tossed the paint-covered rag to the table and put his hands on his hips.

"It would be polite to knock, adar. You startled me so badly that if I had been painting I would have poked the brush through the canvas," he said in what he hoped was not too openly an irate tone of voice. He could not help but scowl when his father smiled at him.

"I did knock. And I called your name through the closed door. So did Galithil and Dolgailon and your naneth," Thranduil replied, still smiling. "I came in to make sure nothing was wrong. And I did wait to speak until you stepped back from the painting because I knew I was going to startle you. You were clearly very focused on your work." He appeared to be amused by that.

Legolas made no pretense of hiding his scowl now. How long had his father been standing there watching him? The thought was enough to make him squirm.

"We wanted you to know that your cousin is home," Thranduil continued, mercifully ignoring the scowl. Legolas knew he was still on thin ground with his father, given all his recent misdeeds. He did not intend to add disrespect to the list. He just was very uncomfortable with anyone, much less his father, watching him paint. "Dolgailon made it back to the capital in time for your daernaneth's farewell tonight."

That was good news! Everyone had been worried the messengers would not reach Dolgailon in the south in time for him to make it home. Legolas took a few excited steps towards the door with a grin on his face before he hesitated and looked back at his paints. He should really take a moment to clean them up first. He had been using the white paint and it dried quickly. At the very least, he needed to close that jar.

Thranduil stepped further into the room. 'You have a bit of time," he said when Legolas paused. "Galithil and Dolgailon are talking about their adar."

Legolas looked sharply at his father. "Is Dolgailon telling Galithil it was not his fault?" he asked.

Thranduil nodded. "Galithil confessed to taking the swords, as I had asked him to do, almost as soon as Dolgailon had settled into a chair. That necessitated telling the entire story of what you were all up to in Dolgailon's absence." Legolas looked down in response to that. "Galithil did not include in his confession or the ensuing explanation what he said about feeling he was to blame for Aradunnon's death, so I was forced to tell Dolgailon. Galithil is angry with me for it, but I had to do it. I could not allow him to continue thinking that."

Legolas looked back at his father. His tone seemed defensive and that surprised Legolas. Indeed, his father's expression indicated he expected disapproval from Legolas as well. Legolas only shrugged. "If you had not done it, I would have. Galithil and Dolgailon have a difficult enough situation without Galithil thinking it was his fault. Dolgailon needs to set him straight about that."

Thranduil smiled at him, nodding his agreement. Then he turned back to the painting. "It is absolutely stunning, Legolas. When I walked in the room, I thought they were standing there. For a moment I was almost ready to scold Aradunnon for not greeting me. They are that realistic. The shock of seeing it was almost too much to bear, honestly."

Legolas frowned. Did his father's voice sound rough? He was almost certain it did. That made Legolas feel sorry for him. He had been worried that seeing sketches of Aradunnon and Amoneth would be difficult for Galithil. It seemed particularly sad, for some reason, that it was apparently painful for his father as well.

"Where do you intend to hang it?" Thranduil asked.

Any sympathy that Legolas had briefly felt evaporated instantly with that question. "No where," he answered quickly. "It is a gift for Galithil. For his room."

His father's brow furrowed. "Well, perhaps we can persuade Galithil to share his gift with the rest of the family. It would be a pity to hang this painting where only one person could enjoy it. It would be selfish and I am certain Galithil is not selfish."

Legolas's brow furrowed deeply as well. Argued that way, Galithil would not even try to resist the request that the painting be hung in a public area. "Adar, I would prefer that it be hung in Galithil's room," Legolas said, trying his best to sound reasonable and not pleading. "It is not nearly good enough to hang with your paintings, or Uncle Celonhael's or daernaneth's or Gelireth's."

Thranduil's gaze darted from the painting to Legolas and his eyebrows rose when he saw Legolas was clearly very serious. He shook his head and gestured to the painting. "Nonsense, Legolas. I have never seen a better portrait of anyone in this family. Celonhael and I cannot paint portraits. Naneth can, but she has not done so in Ages. And Gelireth's portraits are wonderful. I treasure the one she made for me of your naneth. But the one you have in here," he said, reaching for the papers in Legolas's supply box and flipping through them quickly until he produced the painting he referred to, "truly captures your naneth's smile. The way her eyes look when she smiles. Gelireth did not capture that."

Legolas stood stiffly, trying very hard not to glare at his father as he pawed through his paintings and sketches uninvited for a second time. "Adar, those are private. Please put them back," he said as politely as he could.

Thranduil frowned, but he put the drawings back in the box, leaving the portrait of Lindomiel on top. Then he sat down in a chair at the table near the supply box. "Legolas, it is very wrong to create something beautiful and then hoard it for yourself," he said softly. "The ability to create beautiful things is a gift that Iluvatar gave only to his children, Elves and Men, and to his adopted children, the Dwarves. Yavanna's animals and plants may be beautiful by their nature, Aulë's gems may be beautiful by theirs, even Ulmo's waters are beautiful when they cascade over mountains or form snow flakes. But animals and plants cannot create anything from their own hands that is lovely. Only Elves and Men and Dwarves enjoy that gift. And Iluvatar did not intend for us to use it selfishly. Look at what happened to Feanor when he kept the Silmarils from others' sight. They were stolen from him and he and his entire family fell to madness and lost everything trying recover them. The one Silmaril that the Valar managed to recover, they shared with everyone. That is what we are intended to do with the beautiful things that we create."

Legolas stifled a sigh. "I know that, adar, and I am not hoarding my paintings. When I am skilled enough to create something as  beautiful as your ents," he gestured to the mural of the ent and the elvenprince that Thranduil had painted to celebrate Legolas's birth, "or the painting of the forest in your office," he continued, referring to a mural of the forest, glowing silver and gold in the light of dawn, "then I will be happy to share. But I cannot do anything nearly that good yet."

Thranduil glanced at the portrait of Aradunnon and Amoneth and laughed briefly. But he quickly sobered when Legolas only drew himself up slightly and stared at him evenly. "Legolas, this portrait of your aunt and uncle shows every bit as much talent, if not more, as my painting of the ents. I cannot paint people's faces--that is why the elvenprince in your mural has his back to you as he speaks to the ent.  And I never learnt to paint with oils. I have no patience for how slowly they dry and no desire to learn to plan my paintings so as to apply the faster drying paints as bases. And I could never bear to put the attention to detail into any painting of mine to achieve the level of realism that you have achieved in this portrait. I would honestly have to say this painting exceeds my skill and I cannot imagine why you would hesitate to hang it where we can all enjoy it." Then Thranduil's expression grew stern. "Surely Gelireth has told you that your portraits demonstrate great talent?" he asked. His tone implied the answer had better be 'yes' or Gelireth might expect a conversation with Thranduil.

Legolas looked down. She had told him that he painted well. She had gushed over some of the paintings he had done in what seemed to him to be a completely ridiculous manner. "She told me they were good," he hurried to assure him. He did not want his father to speak to his tutor.

"She never told me that anything I painted was good," Thranduil said softly. "She told me what I could do to improve it."

Legolas looked sharply at his father, feeling as insulted as if Gelireth had said the same to him. His father's murals were the best decorations in the stronghold, in his opinion.

Thranduil laughed in response to his expression and reached for the jar of white paint and its lid. "Will you be angry at me if I ask Galithil to share this painting with the rest of the family?" he asked.

"No," Legolas managed. He picked up the jar of turpentine where his soiled brushes were soaking.

Thranduil did not make any of the dramatic faces that Legolas's cousins made when he stirred up the turpentine to clean his brushes. Instead, his father simply passed him a clean rag and the bar of soap in his supply box. Then he reached for another jar of paint to close. "Will you be angry with me if I ask to keep this painting of your naneth?" he asked, nodding at the painting at the top of the stack in the box.

That made Legolas shake his head without even thinking. "It is awful, adar. I do not want nana to see that. At least let me make you a better one if you want one."

"Is that a promise to make me one, then? Because if it is not, you will force me to beg for this one."

"It is a promise. I will make a good one for you," Legolas answered quickly.

"I will look forward to seeing that," Thranduil replied quietly, beginning to stack the paint jars into the supply box. "I had no idea that you painted beyond what Gelireth required you to do for your lessons, Legolas. I cannot tell you how pleased I was to discover that."

Legolas frowned. He was not so pleased with the manner in which his father had found that out. In fact, to be honest, he was still quite angry at his father for that.

Thranduil stopped putting jars in the box and studied Legolas. "Your daernaneth says that I owe you an apology for demanding to look through your box," he said.

That statement only made Legolas tense. Clearly his father did not agree with his grandmother.

Thranduil put the last few jars of paint in the box, covered them with a rag and placed Legolas's palette on top of them. "I thought at the time, and I do still think, that I had a right to be suspicious of what might be in this box, given what I had just heard from Glílavan..."

Legolas was wiping turpentine off a brush with a clean rag. He gave the brush a hard twist and pulled it free of the rag with much more force than was necessary. "Even if I had intentionally lied to Glílavan, which I did not," he interrupted, "I could not look you in the eyes and lie to you, adar. I have never done that. And frankly, I am offended that you think I would."  

"Fair enough," Thranduil admitted softly. "I apologize for offending you, Legolas. I should have listened to your explanation before I assumed you were guilty of everything Glílavan said you had done. I apologize for failing to listen to you, as well. I have not been myself recently, for obvious reasons."

Legolas was not sure if it was the apology or his father's explanation of why he had acted as he had, but Legolas's anger immediately fled, to be replaced by guilt. "Nana told me," Legolas said quietly, "that I should be ashamed of myself for causing you more grief on top of everything else that you are dealing with now. She said I should have tried to help you recover from it rather than thinking just about myself. I realize now that she was right and I am ashamed and sorry, adar. I behaved selfishly. I should have waited, as nana asked me to do, until you were ready to discuss the weapons training with me. I certainly should not have thought I could pursue it on my own. And I should have respected how you must be feeling after all that has happened and behaved in a way that would help you rather than bring you more grief."

Thranduil leaned forward and pulled Legolas into an embrace. "It is difficult to learn how to help others in times of grief, but it is a valuable skill if you can cultivate it. One person's efforts to help another in such times can often give that person the strength to go on when they did not believe they could. Your naneth is a far better example of such skills than I, I must admit. I recommend you follow whatever advice she has given you on the matter. You will be a better person for it," he said giving Legolas's shoulders a squeeze. Then he leaned back in the chair again. "I have given some thought to why you said you wanted those lessons," he said, turning his gaze back towards the portrait. "Have you, perchance, made any effort to understand at all why I am so hesitant to allow you to start that training? Why I require young elves to wait until they are forty-six to enter the training program?"

Legolas shook his head. "Honestly, adar, after seeing Selwon's village...after listening to the grief of the trees and hearing them plead for help..." Legolas watched his father close his eyes in response to that statement and he frowned. "If that grieves you as much at it appears to, given your reaction to just hearing me talk about it, I must admit I do not understand why you do not allow elves to join the training program sooner. Or why you do not send more elves to the southern boarder."

Thranduil loosed a long breath and opened his eyes to face Legolas. "I cannot win the fight in the south, Legolas. If I took every elf in this forest, male and female, adult and child, capable of holding a spear or shooting an arrow, and attacked the orcs and Sauron in the south, all I would be left with when I was finished, if I survived myself, would be the dead bodies of every elf in this forest."

Legolas's eyes widened. "You cannot believe that," he whispered. Legolas refused to believe it. If that were true, then there was no point in Aradunnon's death or Amoneth's or any of the other warriors that died in the forest. If that were true, one day the forest around the stronghold would be blackened like the forest in the south. He did not want to imagine that happening for even a moment.

"I do not just believe it, Legolas, I know it," Thranduil answered firmly, to Legolas's horror. "I have fought in many wars in Mordor and in Beleriand and in Eriador. I know exactly what it takes to defeat an enemy with the numbers and defensive position that Sauron holds in this forest. If I could muster Elrond and Cirdan and Amroth's forces to join my own, I still could not drive Sauron from this forest. Mithrandir, Radagast's friend--you have heard him speak of him?"

Legolas nodded his head.

"He cautioned me once, when I was trying to do just that--to muster Elrond and Amroth to join me to fight Sauron--he cautioned me to be patient. To wait for a better time when we had something more--a weapon or ally or knowledge--that would give us a true advantage over Sauron. So that is what I am doing because I can do nothing else. Do you think I like it? You would be an utter fool to think that I like it. I can be accused of many things, but patience is not one of them. I would give my life in an instant if it meant this forest could be cleansed of the evil in it now. But I cannot do that, as I said. So I wait and I win the one battle that I can win. Do you know what that is?"

Legolas shook his head. If his father really believed that he could not win against the forces of evil in the south, and Legolas did trust his father had enough experience to judge that accurately, then Legolas could not imagine what his father might be referring to.

"The ability of the people to continue living their lives happily. Merrily as when I first encountered them. I want them to meet on the Green every night to sing and dance and play games of skill or chance. I want you to paint and your naneth to weave and Rodonon and Hallion to keep their library. I want us all to have the freedom and the will to do what Iluvatar intended for us--to create beautiful things and enjoy them together. As long as we do that, Sauron has not won. Not all victories are won on the battle field. I believe my truest victory against Sauron is the fact that he cannot repress the spirit of these people. That is why I hesitate to allow you to start weapons training at such a young age, Legolas. I do not want the focus of your life to become war. If it is, then Sauron has defeated you."

Legolas supposed that he could see that, to an extent. "I do paint, adar," he countered. "I sing passably well. And I read my lessons, not only in law, but also in literature. I do not deny that you are right that it is no victory if everyone in this realm is dedicated to war. But we still must fight. If you are killed, we must continue fighting. In order for that to happen, the people of this realm must respect me. They must believe me capable of leading them and defending them. So I still believe that I am right to ask to begin weapons training now. You cannot deny that the longer I have the training, the better I will be prepared to defend this realm when the time comes for me to do it, whenever that may be. And if the safety of all the people of this realm is bought at the expense of me sacrificing a few hours of merry making to do footwork drills, I should think you would allow that. I am one person in this realm, not all of them, being asked to make that sacrifice. And it is a sacrifice that I am am very willing to make."

"It is a sacrifice I am willing to allow you to make, providing you promise me that you will not allow war to become the focus of your life. Because just as it is my duty to prepare my son to defend these people in war, it is also my duty to educate my son to respect the way of life he is defending. And these people are defined by their merry spirits, Legolas. You must learn to see the value in that," Thranduil answered.

Legolas frowned slightly as he processed his father's words. "Are you agreeing to the weapon's training?" he finally asked.

"Do you agree to continue painting?" Thranduil countered, but again he was smiling. "In order to show me that you do still see something more than warfare in the world?"

Legolas grinned back at him. He could not believe that he might have won this argument. "I did promise you a portrait of nana only moments ago," he answered with a teasing tone.

"Then I will arrange the training for you," his father replied. "And for Galithil and Berior, if Celonhael agrees to it. Please give me time to speak to your uncle before you get Berior excited."

Legolas only nodded, grinning broadly and still a little disbelieving that he had been so lucky. His father fixed him with a stern look and Legolas tried to bring his excited expression under control so he could quietly listen to the 'but you must be responsible' lecture that he was sure was coming. It would be similar to the lecture his father gave him when he agreed to let Legolas have a bow, he imagined. Replete with warnings about not playing with weapons with Anastor and Noruil. His father certainly did not have to worry about that. Despite Anastor's apparently sincere apology to Berior--the most sincere apology by far that Legolas had ever heard him offer--he and all his cousins were still angry at Anastor for what he had done.

"But do not believe that you have escaped all punishment," Thranduil continued firmly. "Aside from deciding that we could agree to the weapons training, your naneth and I also decided that spending a few hours sweating in Criston's forge to help him melt down the metal we obtained from the orcs would help you remember not to disobey me in the future."

Legolas only nodded with as respectful an expression as he could muster. That would be very unpleasant, he was certain. He did not even like to go near the forge. But he would happily do it if he had sword lessons afterward.

"And, I want to speak to you more about your disobedience, Legolas, because I doubt you understand precisely why your actions offended me as greatly as they did."

Legolas frowned at that. Offended? Well, he could see why disobedience was offensive. "I do understand, adar. I know it was wrong to disobey you and to go behind your back..." he began, but his father cut him off.

"No, I do not think you do understand, Legolas. This is not simply about a child's disobedience, though that is all I think you understand, and that is why I decided on the punishment I gave you. But there is more to your decision than that. When you decided to pursue those sword lessons without my permission, you did so because, in your judgment, it was in the best interest of this realm, correct? And it was your belief that I, the king of this realm, was either unwilling or currently unable to make the proper decision regarding those lessons and the best interest of this realm, correct?"

Legolas hesitated. "I would not say that you made the incorrect decision as the king of this realm," he replied. He could not imagine where his father was going with this argument, but it sounded very bad.

"But we are discussing decisions that affect the rule of this realm," Thranduil continued. "Decisions made in the best interest of this realm. I make those decisions as king, Legolas."

"We are discussing what I am allowed to do," Legolas countered. "You make decisions about what I am allowed and not allowed to do because you are my adar, not my king."

"Sometimes. When I am deciding if you may take a horse from the stable or sail your raft down the river, those are the decisions of your adar. But when you ask me for sword lessons specifically so that you can defend this realm in the event of my death, that is clearly a matter related to the governance of this realm. When I decided to allow you to have the lessons, I did so because you convinced me that doing so is in the best interest of this realm. These are decisions that your king makes, Legolas, not your adar."

Legolas looked at his father with alarm in response to that.

"When you chose to ignore your king's decision, be it a good one or bad one, it is your king and not your father that you are disobeying. That is the lesson I am asking you to take from this. You may argue with me as either your adar or as your king. I invite that because I believe hearing arguments helps me make better and more just decisions. And I remember my own childhood well enough to understand that a son will occasionally disobey his adar. There will be consequences for that. But Legolas, now that you are old enough to begin participating in the governance and defense of this realm, you must begin to differentiate between the decisions we make as father and son and the decisions we make as the king and prince of this realm. Because I will not tolerate your disobedience as your king. Do you understand that?"

For a moment, Legolas could only blink. "I do understand it, my lord." he finally answered. If ever there was a time to acknowledge Dolgailon's admonition to address the king appropriately, this was it, Legolas thought. "It did not occur to me... I would never disobey the king of this realm."

"I believe that Legolas," Thranduil said gently. "I did not think you did this intentionally. I did not think that you were aware of how I could view this. Indeed, I saw it myself as a decision I made as your adar, right up until the moment you argued that you wanted these lessons so that you might be better prepared to be king. I imagine we will both have to work at seeing each other in our respective places in this realm, but it is clear that you are old enough that we must begin doing that."

Legolas nodded, apparently calmly. But he could not deny that this conversation had given him more than just a little to think about.

*~*~*

Walking along the river bank in the starlight, Galithil tried to focus on the soothing sounds of the water rather than on the songs the minstrels were singing to honor the King's mother. The mood on the Green was somber. Unlike most gatherings, whether festivals or simple merry-making, there had been no dancing or bright party clothes or decorations or games. There had been a feast. A rather good one considering that Crithad and Dollion and some of their friends had provided the meat, rather than the King, and Limmiel and Ollwen had managed its preparation, rather than Lindomiel. And now there was singing. But rather than making him feel cheerful, the gathering to fare Dierneryn well before her journey West only heightened Galithil's grief. Thankfully, no one had tried to stop him when he slipped away. But Maidhien had followed him. Now she was walking along side him silently.

"How is Berior?" she finally asked as they ducked under one of the branches of the great Oak on the Green. Normally at this time of night there would be any number of elves under the Oak, playing games and drinking. Tonight, it was abandoned as everyone gathered around Dieneryn. "He looked fairly uncomfortable during the feast," she prompted when Galithil did not reply.

"Breaking a bone hurts," Galithil answered. He had broken several, so he knew.

Maidhien bit her lip. "Anastor really is sorry, as difficult as that is to believe. And not just because Adar has restricted him to the cottage for the next month. He honestly feels badly that Berior was hurt. I think he did not realize Berior might not be able to deflect the blow or at least sidestep it."

"He should have realized it," Galithil replied. He would not forgive Anastor until Berior did and Berior was still angry.

"True enough," Maidhien agreed. "But then no one should have been playing with the swords," she added softly and cast him a stubborn look when he glanced at her. "It is true," she insisted. "Did Legolas get in much trouble?"

Galithil shook his head. "Uncle Thranduil was really furious at first. And Legolas did not make it any better. He was a bit of a smart mouth when his adar first confronted him. But first daernana intervened, so everyone had a chance to calm down. And then when Dolgailon came home this morning, I heard him telling uncle Thranduil that he had said before that we were old enough for more responsibilities than uncle Thranduil gives us credit for. I thought that took nerve on Dolgailon's part. But before we came out on the Green, Legolas told me that Uncle Thranduil had agreed to give us the weapons training."

Maidhien turned to him with a dramatically disbelieving expression.

Galithil smiled and nodded. "I reacted pretty much the same. I could not believe it either. But Legolas also got a punishment for disobeying Uncle Thranduil. He has to help Criston in the forge to melt down all the metal we scavenged from the orcs in the battle in the south. I helped scavenge that metal. It is a huge pile. That is going to take ages and Uncle Thranduil says Legolas has to help Criston every day for two hours after lessons and our other duties until it is done. That is going to take a long time and be unpleasant work."

"No doubt about that," Maidhien agreed with a sympathetic glance at Legolas. He was just visible through the low hanging branches of the Oak, still sitting on the Green next to his grandmother. "I bet you are glad you did not go with them. Swimming with us has to be more fun than swinging around those swords when you do not even know what you are doing. And it is certainly more fun than sweating in the forge in this heat as a punishment for swinging the swords around."

Galithil nodded. Swimming with Maidhien was fun, for that reason and for the one Legolas had teased him about when they had discussed why Galithil had gone swimming with Maidhien. He glanced at her. He could not imagine why he had never noticed how pretty she was until recently. "True, but I would not say that to Legolas, if I were you. It might earn you a sharp answer back."

Maidhien shrugged. "Legolas may have a sharp tongue when he wants to have one, but Anastor and Noruil hit. I will take Legolas's temper any day over theirs." Galithil narrowed his eyes in response and that caused Maidhien to roll her eyes and laugh. "I hit just as hard as them, Galithil. Never fear."

"True enough," he teased, giving her a light shove.

She punched him in the arm and when he pretended to flinch and rub his arm, she laughed and reached for his hand. "What about you? Did you ever talk to your brother about that stupid idea that you had that you are to blame for what happened to your adar? Or do I have to tell him you are thinking that so he will know he needs to tell you that you are wrong?"

Galithil had to make an effort not to jerk his hand away from her. She held on to him securely as if she expected him to try. "Uncle Thranduil beat you to it," he muttered. "I told him that when Legolas and I were explaining why we want the sword lessons and Uncle Thranduil told Dolgailon."

"And what did Dolgailon say?" she asked, sounding just a bit too much like Eirienil. Smug, as if she already knew the answer.

Galithil was tempted to lie just to spite her. But he would not do that. Not to her. "He said exactly what you said he would. Do not gloat or I will throw you in the river. I swear it," he rushed to add. "He told me that it was not my fault. That I made a mistake to come south, but Adar made a worse mistake to lose track of the battle. He said he was angry at Adar for what he did, not me. That does not make any sense to me, but you said it too. Legolas did, Uncle Thranduil did and Dolgailon did. And everyone says Adar would not want me to spend my life guilty over what happened. That, at least, is probably true. So I will try not to. I promise."

Maidhien smiled in response to that. A pretty smile, Galithil noted. It made his heart beat just a little faster. They had reached the trunk of the Oak, so Galithil leaned against it in an effort to behave casually and ignore the way he had reacted to her smile. But that was not destined to work.

Maidhien tiptoed as he leaned back against the tree and kissed his cheek. "I am glad you are going to try to forgive yourself," she said.

Or she said something. Galithil was certain she said something. He just did not really know what. Nor did he really care. He turned towards her automatically and caught her waist with one hand as she stepped back from him. Then he froze, not certain why he had done what he had just done. Not at all certain how she would react to him holding her in place as he was doing. But she did not pull away, or punch him or laugh at him. She just stopped moving as well and looked at him. Her face was level with his and Galithil realized she was balanced on a root of the tree. He could not stop himself. His eyes darted to her lips and when they did, he froze again. He felt completely incapable of anything. Even breathing. He saw Maidhien swallow and then she leaned towards him, ever so slightly, her hand on his shoulder for balance. That had to be an invitation, he thought. Heart pounding, he took it. He closed the distance between them and kissed her. He did nothing more than brush his lips against hers, but it was enough to make him yearn to pull her flush against him. He did not dare do that. Not, at least, until he figured out what sort of reaction she was going to have to that kiss.

For what must have been an entire Age, she simply looked at him. Then she took her hand off his shoulder and put it, along with her other arm, around his neck and pulled him into a hug. When he dared to return the embrace, arms around her waist, she buried her face against his neck. Heart beating wildly, Galithil believed for the first time since his father's death that he might be able to see his way to being better.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum
Daeradar/daernaneth -- Grandfather/grandmother

Epilogue: Healing

Legolas crept through the underbrush, stepping over or around twigs and branches that would snap or snag his clothes and announce his presence. The musky scent of a deer lingered in the still air. He had not yet spotted it, but he could hear it--just ahead of him, it breathed heavily as it nosed a bush, tearing branches and munching noisily. Thranduil and Tulus were right on Legolas's heels. They almost certainly did not understand why he was tarrying. Legoalas could just barely see his cousin Galithil, followed by Colloth and Dolgailon, slipping through the heavy growth of dewberry bushes a dozen paces in front of him and to his left. As he walked, Galithil was reaching for an arrow from his quiver. He must have the deer in his sights. Legolas stopped and watched him.

"What?" Thranduil breathed in his ear, scanning the forest ahead of them.

Legolas shook his head. "Nothing," he whispered back. "Let Galithil have it," he said, signaling for Tulus to stay where he was.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. "This is a magnificent animal, Legolas," he replied, gesturing to the tracks they had followed. They were indeed huge.

Legolas shrugged. "As long as one of us gets him, that is all that matters," he said. "Let it be Galithil. It is his turn to get a deer."

His father smiled in response and turned his attention to the glimpses of dark green tunic that were visible ahead of them through the undergrowth. Legolas looked in the same direction. A head and antlers popped up from behind a bush, eyes darting in all directions. Legolas sunk closer to the ground and stared at the deer. His father was right. It was a beautiful buck. Galithil's bow tilted slowly into position, but he did not draw. He did not yet have a shot and this buck had not achieved his age and size without learning what the creaking of a bow meant.

"What are you doing? It is right there!" Berior whispered, coming up behind Legolas along with Celonhael. He pointed at the now clearly visible buck.

"Galithil has it," Legolas answered.

Berior's brows drew together and he looked between the buck and Galithil. "But we have the shot. Galithil does not," he replied, reaching for an arrow.

"We are hunting until all of us shoot a deer, Berior," Legolas said, reaching to stay his younger cousin's hand. "This one is Galithil's."

Berior folded his arms across his chest, but his expression was resigned. "It is bigger than the one you shot," he finally retorted. "Galithil will say his buck is better than yours, even if you got yours first."

Celonhael snorted quietly. It was enough noise to make the deer raise its head again and skitter around to look straight at them. "If you argue in that manner," he said, "you and Galithil will sound just like Oropher and Amglaur in their youth. And I doubt very much Amglaur will like being reminded of those contests."

The sound of a bow being drawn prevented Legolas from inquiring what his uncle had meant by that reference. The buck gathered itself for flight, but he did not move fast enough. An arrow flew from the dewberries and struck him squarely. The buck took less than half a dozen panicked leaps before he collapsed on the forest floor. The crashing noises he made were completely drowned by Galithil's triumphant whoop as he chased after his first kill, his older brother close behind him.

Legolas grinned widely. "I do not mind if Galithil boasts that his deer is better than mine was," he said. Then, he stood up fully from his crouched position and walked over to congratulate his cousin.

*~*~*

"It is far, far bigger than the deer you killed Legolas," Galithil exclaimed, holding his hand high off the ground and then both hands far apart to show how big the buck had been. His eyes were gleaming. "It takes skill to track a deer that old and wise."

Dolgailon pulled his cloak more tightly around himself and watched their fire sputter as his little brother and cousin argued the relative merits of getting the first deer versus getting the bigger one. He was very pleased to see Galithil's high spirits were not all dampened by the light summer rain. He could almost convince himself that his brother had gone the entire day since spotting the buck's tracks without thinking of their father. That was a good thing.

He nodded to Thranduil when he settled next him, taking advantage of the thick, heavily leaved bough of the beech to shelter them somewhat from the elements. "This hunting trip was a most excellent idea, Uncle. It has served its purpose well," he said, gesturing with his jerk of his chin to Legolas and Galithil's playful argument.

Thranduil smiled. "Your adar and I promised them this trip," he replied. "And it is good for all of us to spend some time in the forest."

Dolgailon could not deny that. Being in the fresh, green forest east of the stronghold was greatly preferable to being surrounded by the gloom in the south. Especially given his state of mind. He still believed that he was right to go south and speak to his officers, but he was glad to be home and he did not intend to return to the south any time soon. The southern forest was oppressive under the best of circumstances. Like his little brother, he was still grieving. Better to remain in the capital for the time being. And the southern villages seemed to be in good hands. At least as far as the patrols were concerned. He was not as certain about the new leadership in his father's village.

"Did I mention to you that Adar's village has a new leader?" Dolgailon asked Thranduil quietly.

Thranduil's eyebrows went up. "I thought Tatharil managed your Adar's village when he was absent from it. It has been Tatharil that has been dealing with me since Galithil was born, at any rate."

Dolgailon wince slightly when his uncle said Galithil's name in a clear voice, fearing his little brother would hear him and come to join the conversation. He did not want to spoil Galithil's day by discussing the new leader of their father's village in his presence, But Galithil and Legolas continued their argument. "Tatharil was injured in the battle and did not survive," Dolgailon explained. "Apparently the elves in the village felt we had enough to handle when we were trying to arrange our journey back to the stronghold with Adar and Naneth's bodies without hearing that, so they did not want to burden us further. But, naturally I stayed there when I was visiting with the officers in the south and I met the new village leader. She seems very capable," he finished, trying to speak fairly about her strengths before mentioning his concerns.

"She?" Thranduil repeated.

Dolgailon nodded. "Sindar, I think, though I did not recognize her. But she is clearly not SIlvan. She is very organized and forceful. She seems to be a natural leader. They have already managed to reconstruct most of the cottages in the village, as well as the oven for baking."

Thranduil's mouth turned down on both sides and he nodded once, clearly impressed. "That is a feat indeed, to achieve so much in only a few weeks. Do I know her? What is her name?"

"Moralfien," Dolgailon replied.

"I do not remember anyone by that name traveling with us from Beleriand. She must have been born in the forest," Thranduil said.

Dolgailon shook his head. "I would guess that she is much older than I. Certainly old enough to have traveled here with you and Daeradar. But she said she had not lived for long in Eryn Galen, so perhaps that is why you do not know her. I assumed that she must have come here from Lothlorien recently. She had a male relative with her. A brother or uncle, it seems, because she was a maiden. I got the impression she had come to live with him, but I was not introduced to him, so I do not know his name. He kept very much to himself. They both largely avoided me, truth be told," he concluded.

Thranduil shrugged. "People were often nervous around your adar, given his position in this realm. Now you will experience the same thing. She probably was not certain if she should continue to lead the village since you were staying there. She seems to be a good leader, if she has managed to accomplish so much in so little time. As long as you trust her, I imagine we should be thankful for her."

Dolgailon drew a deep breath. "She made me quite uncomfortable, to be honest, though I could not say precisely why. But I do not intend to make my home in Adar's village. Arthiel prefers the capital, not to mention the fact that Crithad would have very strong words with me if I wanted to take his daughter south. And I think it is best that I remain indefinitely in the capital where I can benefit from your advice as I learn about my new position. If I am to do that, I suppose it is best to allow this elleth to manage Adar's village. Best to be thankful for her skill, as you said."

Thranduil merely nodded, but the slight smile on his face betrayed how pleased he was with that decision. Dolgailon was not surprised.

"Well, Thranduil said, "we will keep an eye on how the village fairs under her. It is the largest village in that area. We will hear quickly enough if anything goes amiss. And in the meantime, we will be grateful that someone stepped forward to finish managing the village's move. That was no small undertaking and we had no one to spare to help them."

Dolgailon said nothing to that. There was no arguing that they had no one to spare to govern that village. And it was certainly true that they would hear, either from villagers, nearby village leaders, or the patrols if anything went wrong there. He had probably only been caught off guard by seeing someone other than his father or Tatharil leading the village, Dolgailon thought. That was probably why this Moralfien had struck him so oddly. Dolgailon pulled his legs a little tighter against his chest and arranged his cloak so they were as sheltered as possible from the rain. He had enough to worry about himself, as Troop Commander. He did not have time to think about governing villages that were three days travel away. He would be grateful for the elleth as Uncle Thranduil had said and try not to waste anymore thought on it.

*~*~*

Legolas awoke when a hand shook his shoulder. His eyes came into focus to see his father crouching over him and he struggled for a moment to take in his surroundings before remembering that they were camping in the forest. Hunting! It must be time to get ready for another day's tracking. Today, Berior would get his deer, Legolas was sure of it.

His father gestured for him to be quiet and to follow him. Legolas frowned. It was still quite dark he realized. The rain had cleared--stars glittered above him--and the forest smelled clean and fresh. Legolas rose from his bedroll and followed his father. The only other person stirring in the camp was Conuion, who had taken the last watch of the night. He nodded to Thranduil and Legolas as they passed him. Thranduil led them a few paces into the forest, away from the camp, before leaping up to catch the lowest branch of a great tree.
 
Legolas hurried after his father, but he was forced to climb into a smaller tree until he could make his way into the branches of the one his father was climbing.

The tree was tall. One of the tallest, perhaps the tallest, that Legolas had ever seen. Certainly taller than any tree near the stronghold. It had sung contentedly from the moment they had made camp under its boughs the night before. It stirred particularly when Thranduil passed near it. Now that his father had climbed into it, the tree simply hummed with pleasure. Legolas could not help but notice that his father seemed joyful as well. This was certainly not the first tree Legolas had ever seen his father climb. They had sat together in the arms of nearly every tree within sight of the stronghold at some point, he imagined. But his father seemed to know this tree. His hands reached for and found welcoming branches as he climbed seemingly without thought. And he was climbing very high, into the most slender branches of the tree, yet he did not slow his pace.

Legolas did. The tree seemed quite interested in him, singing a gentle, new melody in response to him. It was welcoming. Delighted and surprised. But they had climbed above the tops of most of the trees surrounding them and his father was still climbing. Climbing into branches that must surely be too slender to support his weight. Legolas found himself carefully inspecting each branch before he trusted it, but the tree continued to sing to him, urging him upward.

Finally, Thranduil settled in a cluster of small branches near the top of the tree. The trunk swayed gently as he leaned into them. The motion was enough to make Legolas tighten his grip on the branches where he had stopped to watch his father climb. Thranduil simply sat there, facing east, his eyes closed, apparently completely lost in the forest's song. Legolas hesitated to disturb him. But still the tree's song urged him upwards, even more insistently now that he was considering climbing back down.

"Come join me," Thranduil said, without opening his eyes. "The branches here are new, but they are strong and they will not let you fall. I believe this old tree is beginning to grasp who you are. It has been Ages of this world since its own offspring were saplings, but enough eagles have fledged nestlings in its branches that it still remembers such things."

Legolas refrained from responding to being likened to a sapling and a nestling. Instead, he accepted without any further hesitation his father's assessment of the tree's ability to support both their weights and climbed around the trunk so that he too could fit in the cluster of small branches that held his father. They sat shoulder to shoulder when Legolas settled next to him.

"Woah!" Legolas whispered when he finally took his focus off the branches supporting him and allowed himself to look out over the forest. They were very high. From this vantage point, the forest stretched out in front of Legolas for as far as he could see. In front of him, in the very first light of morning in the east, Legolas could see mist rising off the Celduin. Looking over his shoulder, far in the distance, he was certain he could see the outlines of the Misty Mountains stabbing into the clouds. And to his right, the forest marched seemingly forever southward. Starlight sparkled in the drops of water that still clung to the trees after last night's gentle rain. "It is enormous," Legolas finally managed.

Thranduil only nodded, still not opening his eyes.

Legolas could not imagine why he would not. Why climb this high, within reach of this incredible view and not not look at it. Legolas had drawn a hundred maps of the forest for various lessons. He had travelled as far east as the raft elves' village and as far south as Selwon's village. Both were over a day's travel from the stronghold. But neither drawing maps nor his limited travels had given him any real sense of the size of the forest. Not in the way this view of it did.

The first glimmers of sunlight began to dance over the horizon, warming Legolas's face.

Thranduil opened his eyes. "Watch this," he whispered.

Legolas's eyes widened and his gaze snapped over to his father. That sounded like something Galithil would say and there were not many things anyone could do at this height that would be smart. But Thranduil only continued to look east, so Legolas turned his attention in that direction.

The horizon began to glow. The clouds, which had been over the forest yesterday, were now far off in the east. They turned first a silvery pink before slowly blooming into a fiery reddish-orange. It was indeed a beautiful sunrise, and Legolas could understand why his father had climbed this tree to watch it. As Anor rose further into the sky, the glow of the clouds began to fade, but his father did not stop watching. Legolas imagined he could see the arms of Anor embracing the lands and reaching closer to the forest. When the light reached the mist rising from the Celduin and floating amongst the tree tops, Legolas's breath caught in his throat. Rather than turning red, as the clouds had done, the mist absorbed Anor's light. Slowly, a golden glow lit the fresh green leaves. Then, the rain drops on the leaves came to life and glittered like silver jewels. Legolas had seen this sight before!

He glanced at his father. "This is the mural in your office. The forest bathed in gold and silver light," he whispered.

"Almost," Thranduil replied, still watching the glimmering light in the trees. "The painting in my office is a memory of this sight, but as seen from a different place and in a different time. This gold and silver light was the sight that greeted me the first time I ever laid eyes on this forest, from the heights of the Misty Mountains. Exhausted from our journey and from all that had happened to precipitate it, it was this sight that gave me hope. Hope for the first time in hundreds of years. This forest saved my life, so I painted it in my office, and I remember that hope when times are difficult."

As his father spoke, the sunlight glinted off his silver ring. The ring Oropher had made as a symbol of his rule over the forest. Legolas looked back over the forest. The smoke of hearth fires rose in several dozen distinct areas of the forest that he could make out, catching the sunlight as the mist had done and glowing warmly. Villages. People that his father was responsible for. Suddenly the vastness of the forest took on a new meaning.

"When your uncles and I hunt for the festivals," Thranduil continued, not noticing the direction of Legolas's gaze, "we always come by this tree. It is the tallest that I have been able to find in this part of the forest. I always climb it and enjoy the sunrise while we are here. The sunrise is a beautiful thing, of course. But this sight--this mingling of gold and silver amongst the trees--it is not so common as a beautiful sunrise. We were lucky this morning to see it. I had truly hoped we might after last night's rain." Thranduil looked over his shoulder towards the mountains. "If her journey has gone smoothly, Nana should be in the mountains this morning. I hope that she is looking at the forest now so that she has one last chance to see this sight. It meant as much to her when she first saw it as it did to me, I remember."

Legolas bowed his head to hide his reaction to that statement. Something about the idea of Daernana looking at the forest as he was now, but from such an unreachable distance, brought tears to his eyes. After a moment, when his father had returned to enjoying the forest's song, Legolas dared to glance back at the mountains, a vague, imposing shape in the far distant West. Daernana was lost, like so many others. She would never again enjoy the fresh scent of the forest in the summer or taste its fruits or weave soft cloth from the flax that grew on its borders.

Below them, voices began to stir in the camp. Galithil and Berior were begging to be allowed to make the fire and help with breakfast. His cousins and remaining aunt and uncles would never be lost, Legolas determined. Never. Nor would any more of the forest fall to the Evil One. He would do anything he had to do to ensure their safety.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum
Daeradar/daernaneth -- Gradfather/grandmother
Elleth -- Female elf

AN: Thanks to Bodkin for translating the name Moralfien to Sindarin for me; it seems like ages ago since we had that conversation. And thanks to French Pony for coining the term that led to the name in the first place.

This is the end of Journeys out of Grief. I hope you enjoyed.