AN: This is a continuation of a series of stories titled Interrupted Journeys. Parts One through Nine have already been posted. In the case of this story, it is probably necessary to have read at least Parts Eight and Nine to understand the OCs and their motivations better and to understand the events that Legolas is struggling with.  This part of the story is set in Legolas's childhood, immediately after Part Nine. Legolas is in the middle of his first formal year of training as a warrior. He is near adulthood, at the age of 46.

Gentleness can be repaid in death.
--Denethor
So be it.
--Faramir

Chapter 1: Through the shadow

T.A. 1987 
Tulus kept his eyes fixed on his target while reaching for the next branch along his path through the trees. He had to take care. The sparse leaves this far south offered little cover and he dared not be seen. He also dared not lose her.

"We have gone too far," the guard accompanying him breathed into his ear. "Too far outside the protection of the patrols."

Tulus ignored him, leaping silently to the next tree and pressing himself against its trunk once he reached its branches. He peered at Manadhien's dark form to make sure that she would continue, unpausing, down the deer trail that she was following. She did. Starlight glinted off a golden ring she wore on the hand that clutched her cloak closed around her. Tulus went after her, creeping, crouched low, along a sturdy branch. His tree was several dozen paces to her west, just close enough to keep her in sight.

"We are too deep into the orcs' territory," his companion whispered when he again came along side him. "If she wants to risk her life, let her, but we should not. The king wants her head, not ours."

Tulus glanced over his shoulder. "He will want ours if she walks straight from here out of the forest," he responded. Then he immediately turned his full attention back to Manadhien.

"She is most likely to walk straight into an orc's lair and I do not want to be killed along with her."

"Then go back," Tulus hissed. "If you will not go back, be silent."

When Tulus leapt into the next tree, the other guard followed him, silently, as ordered. Tulus nodded grimly to himself. Managing the other spies that Thranduil had sent with him was not nearly as difficult as he remembered command could be from his days as an officer before Oropher's arrival in the forest. Thranduil, Aradunnon and Dolgailon had managed to instill a sense of discipline into the ranks over the long Ages. That was definitely an accomplishment.

They pursued their quarry for a good while longer, until Tilion reached his peak height in the sky and began his descent towards the western edge of the world. Still, Tulus had no intention of turning away, even if he had not seen any wholesome forest creature for hours. He was about to move to the next tree when his companion sucked in a sharp breath.

"Something moves. There," he whispered, pointing with the arrow that he drew from his quiver to the shadows of a ridge that jutted up ahead of them. Manadhien was heading straight for it.

Tulus also drew an arrow and scanned the forest floor around them to make sure they had not already walked into a trap. He saw nothing.

Meanwhile, the other guard nocked his arrow and raised his bow, waiting to draw it until he could properly target whatever lurked in the darkness.

'The fool will shoot the next thing that moves,' Tulus thought and he motioned for him to lower his bow. That order was obeyed with obvious reluctance.

They watched.

Manadhien approached the ridge without hesitation. Indeed, she walked towards it purposefully, loosening a pouch on her belt as she did.

A group of orcs stepped out from a gap in the rocks.

In one swift motion, the other guard nocked his arrow and raised his bow again, shifting into a position to target the nearest orc.

Tulus grasped the shaft of the arrow.

"You intend to let them take her?" the guard whispered. "Whatever she has done, she does not deserve that fate. We have to protect her."

"Wait," Tulus whispered without releasing the arrow.

Manadhien did not so much as flinch in response to the orcs' arrival. Instead, she walked directly to them, unconcerned by the snarling noises they made or the way they sniffed the air. But they did not raise a weapon or move against her or call for reinforcements.

"Did that orc... the big one...it did not..." the other guard stammered, but could not finish his question.

Tulus nodded. "It bowed to her," he confirmed, releasing his grip on his companion's arrow lest he snap it in half and betray their position. It was true. She was in league with orcs! He would need to send another message to the king, and quickly.

*~*~*

Legolas walked slowly down the corridor that housed the offices of the King's Council. It was late, well past dinner, and most of the occupants of these offices were on the Green. Or perhaps they were in their own chambers in the family quarters. Legolas did not know where his cousins, aunts and uncles were. He had been working in the king's office until his father and Hallion had insisted he leave. 'Go dance with your cousins,' Thranduil had said, too firmly for Legolas to be foolish enough to argue.

He might not argue, but he would also not obey. To dance was not really an order either a king or even a father could issue. To not write summaries of the day's orders was. So, Legolas was heading to the Great Hall to work on summaries of the next day's petitions. The couriers should have already delivered those to the Hall.

Legolas stopped in front of Dolgailon's office and pushed aside the tapestry that hung opposite it. He laid his hand on the wall. A seam and then a crack appeared. Legolas pushed and the crack opened into a door. He passed through it, stepped around the tapestry on its other side and emerged next to the throne in the Great Hall. The door closed silently behind him. Lamps were lit in the Hall. That was odd at this hour.

Crack! Crack! The sounds of wood slapping against wood echoed loudly off the stone walls. So did grunts and labored breathing. Legolas scanned the room swiftly. What he saw made him stop and stare: Conuion was sparring in the Hall--with the queen!

Crack! Lindomiel raised her practice sword to a high guard, blocking a blow Conuion aimed at her head. She forced Conuion's sword to the side and used her momentum to swing at his leg. He leapt out of range, circling her, his own sword in a mid guard.

Legolas watched them silently. He had seen Conuion working to rebuild his skill with a sword since he lost the use of his right arm in the battle where Amglaur and Limmiel had died. The captain of the King's Guard had taken that work very seriously and, from what Legolas had seen when Conuion sparred with Thranduil or Dolgailon, he had succeeded in becoming, once again, a very formidable warrior.

The sides of Legolas's mouth turned downward and he nodded. His mother was giving Conuion a fair work out. They must have been fighting for some time. Both were breathing heavily and moving with evident fatigue.

Lindomiel lunged at Conuion, driving a thrust towards his throat. Conuion side stepped, swinging at Lindomiel's back as she rushed past, but she pivoted to parry his blow, following through with a slash at his right side. She nearly had him. He could not have reacted fast enough to void or parry that blow, so he did not attempt either. Instead, he stepped inside her attack and brought her flush against him by driving the wooden dagger in his off-hand into her back.

"Orc spit!" she shouted, slapping Conuion's leg with the flat of her blade.

Legolas's eyebrows shot up.

Conuion laughed, stepping away from her with a bow.

She followed him, not allowing him to put any distance between them. "As angry as I am, Conuion," she said, beating her closed fist against his undamaged arm to punctuate her words, "you would think it might be wise to let me win just one round against you. Just one." She shoved him. "So that I am not tempted to fight entirely unfairly in the next bout."

Conuion, his shoulders shaking with laughter, dropped to one knee. "Mercy, my lady, I beg you. And there will be no 'next bout.' You have exhausted me. Truly."

Lindomiel took a step back from him, crossed her arms across her chest and glared down at him playfully, her practice sword hanging loosely in her hand. "I will win against you someday, Conuion," she declared.

"You continue to make that claim, my lady," Conuion replied, flinching dramatically as Lindomiel again raised her hand.

"Nana, surely you would not strike him when he is already on his knees," Legolas called, grinning at the sight before him as he descended the stairs of the dais.

Lindomiel spun towards him, startled and plainly abashed. She blushed, and returned his smile with a sheepish one of her own. "I have been caught being a terrible loser," she said. Then she smirked at Conuion. "Be grateful that he saved you. And do get up," she added when Conuion bowed to show his appreciation, even from his kneeling position.

"That was well fought," Legolas said, trying not to sound surprised. When he reached the back of the Hall, he allowed her to pull his head down for a kiss on the cheek.

"The queen has become passably skilled with a sword and dagger," Conuion said, only after he relieved her of her practice weapons.

She drew herself up. "Passably? You have just as many bruises as I have," she retorted.

"But yours are the fatal wounds and that is why I have won, yet again," Conuion replied.

Lindomiel took a threatening step towards Conuion, but she was grinning at him.

He put out both his hands in mock supplication.

"May I ask what has inspired this...warfare in the king's halls?" Legolas intervened.

"Frustration," Lindomiel answered with a rueful tone. "Ellyn are not the only ones who sometimes like to take their anger out with a sword or bow, ion nin. And since the king has ordered the Guard to keep me away from the storerooms, Conuion--one of the Guard--makes a suitable target."

Legolas laughed nervously, looking with wide eyes at his mother--surely she did not mean that she had to be ordered to stay away from Glilavan!

"It is Glilavan I would truly like to face with a sword," she said, confirming Legolas's fears. "Sparring with Conuion really does little to slake my anger at him, Marti and her servants for abducting my son and selling him to men, in order to torment my husband. For murdering my dearest friend, in order to torment my husband." She leaned towards Legolas, her right hand closed into a fist. "Marti had better pray orcs get her in the south before Thranduil has a chance to bring her here. If she is brought into this court," she stabbed her finger down to point at the floor of the Hall, "the king will have to act swiftly if he intends to be the one to pass sentence on her. I am completely at the end of my tolerance where her evil is concerned."

Legolas now stared at his mother silently, all amusement gone from his expression. His eyes darted across her face and then over her posture. Her stance was taut, openly aggressive. He had to make a conscious effort not to take a step back, away from her.

"My lady," Conuion whispered, his tone gently admonishing.

She shot him an annoyed look.

"Nana," Legolas said, his voice barely a whisper. "Can you not...I mean...what about your workshop? Weaving seems a much more suitable...."

"I have been weaving, thank you very much," she interrupted. "More than that, I have completed a lovely embroidery pattern in beautiful thread on my gown for the festival--it covers the entire back of the skirt and is much more elaborate than I had originally intended. And nearly all the baking is done for the festival. And the trade goods are packed, well ahead of schedule." She paused and drew a deep breath. After a moment, her shoulders relaxed and her fists unclenched. "Of course, you are right that I should not allow that witch to drive me to such anger. It is a foolish waste of time--a victory that she far from deserves and that I will not yield to her," she said so quietly that he had to strain to hear her, though he was standing nearly toe-to-toe with her. "But some things are simply...very difficult."

Legolas understood that.

Then her smile returned. "Better to  focus on what I love," she kissed his cheek again. "Such as you. And to a much lesser degree, of course, my weaving. Time in my workshop does help immensely. Very true." She paused, fixing him with a determined gaze that finally did force him back a step. "And what about you? What are you doing in the Hall at this hour? Galithil was looking for you. He wanted you to go dance with him on the Green, but he could not find you."

Legolas half turned from her, gesturing towards the papers on the table where the King's Council met. "I do not feel much like dancing, nana. I came in here to look at tomorrow's petitions."

"Just as I should be weaving, you should be dancing on the Green. Besides, if you work through those petitions now, you will have nothing to do during the night, when you are not sleeping," she answered softly.

Legolas looked back at her sidelong.

"Of course I have noticed that you are not sleeping, ion nin. Or eating."

Legolas frowned. "I am both eating and sleeping all that I need, nana," he replied. Then he searched his mind for some way to distract her. Doing so was his only hope of avoiding the Green. "How is Berior? And Aunt Ollwen?" He had seen very little of his cousin and nothing of his aunt since they learned of Celonhael's death.

Lindomiel stiffened in response to that question and Conuion shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.  

That made Legolas look between them with raised brows.

"Ollwen has been persuaded to go to the Havens, I hear," Lindomiel replied quietly.

Legolas gaped at her. "Berior is going with her?" he asked.

"No, no," she shook her head. "At least I do not think so. I have only heard of preparations to escort Ollwen." She turned to Conuion, who nodded.

Legolas struggled to put that together. Ollwen had always been...fragile. Legolas did not find it too difficult to believe that she did not have the strength to go on without Celonhael. But Berior's family was very close. If she sailed, she would lose Berior too. And he would lose her. Immediately after losing his father. Legolas just could not imagine how either Berior or Ollwen would cope with such losses.

"Your adar told me that she begged Berior to stay," Lindomiel said, reading his thoughts in his expression. "She argued that he is too young and has not had enough time to live in the forest. That he has so many friends and much more family here than in Aman. And, of course, your adar has promised to take care of him until he comes of age. I support her efforts to persuade him to stay. For what little value my words hold for them at the moment. I truly believe Berior can recover from this loss and thrive here in the forest. Eventually."

He frowned. "What do you mean, 'for what little value?'" he asked.

She affected a look of indifference that made Legolas's eyebrows climb. His mother did not normally bother to conceal her true reactions, at least when speaking within the family. And she was never indifferent to anything. "Surely Berior has expressed to you his, and Ollwen's, view of my involvement in Celonhael's death."

Legolas shook his head, confused. "What involvement could you possibly have, nana?"

"I gave the order that sent Celonhael and the guards that accompanied him to search for you in that mannish settlement," she answered.

Again, Legolas shook his head. "How is that important? Why should that impact whether Berior values your opinion on whether he should stay or not?"

Lindomiel shrugged and said nothing more, so Legolas turned to Conuion.

"Berior and his mother think that the queen should not have sent Celonhael. That he would not have been killed if she had not," Conuion explained quietly.

Legolas spun back around to his mother. "Did Berior say to you that he blamed you?" he demanded, scowling severely.

"You should go dance on the Green and put this out of your head," she said. When Legolas only glared at her, she smiled at him, though her eyes seemed very tired. "Your adar is enough, ion nin. I do not need my son's protection. I manage myself perfectly well."

"I asked you if Berior said to your face that he blames you," Legolas repeated.

"This is not your concern, Thranduilion," Lindomiel replied, her smile brightening to one that was more genuine. "So I have no intention of answering your question."

"Berior will answer it," Legolas said, turning towards the doors of the Hall. "I will not tolerate him treating my naneth in this manner." He took several long strides. "The very idea that you might be in any part to blame for what those insane, evil villains did..."

Lindomiel hurried after him, rushing around him and blocking his path from the Hall. "Leave it, Legolas. It does not matter. Berior and Ollwen are grieving. Sometimes people need someone to bear the blame for a terrible loss. I did order Celonhael to go after you. If they wish to blame me, let them."

Legolas stood breathing hard, studying his mother. "Nana, you do not believe you are responsible, do you?" he asked after a moment.

"I am responsible for giving the order to send Celonhael," Lindomiel answered. "And I will not try to deny to you that I did regret doing so when I heard he had been killed. Celonhael was my closest friend. But your adar told me--and I must trust his advice because he has the advantage, or misfortune, depending your point of view, of having much more experience giving orders that result in people's deaths--your adar told me that if Celonhael had not captured Fuilin, we would not have learned Ulcamarto's name. And then Engwe would not have recognized that family. And we would still know nothing of their motivations and history. We might not even know where Manadhien is. We cannot be certain Tulus and Dannenion would have confessed it if you had not guessed it first."

"I think he would have, nana," Legolas said softly.

"I do too. I always liked Tulus. Still, we know more because Celonhael captured Fuilin, so his death was not entirely in vain. Your adar says that knowing a sacrifice achieved some good makes it easier endure. Helping Berior to understand that is what we must do."

Legolas looked at his mother for a long moment before pulling her into an embrace. It broke his heart to think she blamed herself in any way. That she had to have any exposure to such a burden. "Nana, you do know...adar told you, or Conuion did...that Uncle Celonhael suggested himself that he should take Fuilin and Mauril ahead of us to the stronghold? It was his own idea."

He felt her nod. "So your adar would not execute them, forcing you to see him do such a thing," her voice dropped to a gentle whisper, "so soon after you were forced to kill Demil."

Legolas tensed. He grasped his mothers shoulders and pushed her back to arms length, holding her there. "Adar told you that?" he asked. Then he turned a glare to rival Thranduil's worst on Conuion. "Did Conuion tell you?"

But Conuion, shaking his head, appeared as shocked as Legolas. "I certainly did not."

Legolas turned back to his mother. He would go have words with his own father--or whoever else it was--that told her about Demil.

Lindomiel gripped his wrists to hold him in place. "Your adar did not tell me that..."

"Who did?"

"No one. I am not a fool, Legolas. Nor am I blind. I know Demil was killed. I read the reports. There was much more in what they did not say than there was in what little they did say. If a guard had killed him, that would have been in the report. If the king had done it, that would be entered in the court record. It had to be you or Anastor or Dannenion." She moved her hands from his wrists to cup his face. "I know my own son. I can see that you are in far more pain than that caused by your injuries. I thought I helped you more by not letting on that I knew. I thought you needed more time to accept it yourself."

Legolas snorted. "Do you accept it, nana?" he asked with a much more derisive tone than he would normally use with his mother.

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you asking me if I accept that you killed Demil rather than allowing him to kill you? And Anastor? And Dannenion? And Tulus? I not only accept it, I expect it."

"She is correct, my lord," Conuion added softly, taking a step towards him to place a hand on his shoulder.

Legolas let out a long breath and looked down.

Lindomiel lifted his chin to make him look at her. "Your adar tries to shelter me, Legolas. He thinks me quite innocent. But allow me to remind you that of all the people in this household, I am the only one that shares with you the experience of being held prisoner by men. Of course men only held Amoneth and I for a few hours, not a few days. And they did not manage to remove us from the forest. I imagine that was very frightening. I know the threat of it frightened me. Greatly. I remember wondering how Thranduil and Aradunnon would find us if the men managed to escape the forest with us." She paused before continuing in a very quiet voice. "And you may recall that I killed one of the men that attacked us. Killing a man is probably not as...burdensome as killing an elf. Men kill amongst themselves, after all, so some think that means killing them is not as bad. But, I had never killed anything I did not intend to eat before that. And I have always thought of men as Illuvatar's children, just as elves are his children. Killing that man, even to defend you.... Suffice to say that I still occasionally have nightmares about that incident. I have had several over the last few days, in fact. My point is: you can speak to me about this Legolas. I am probably the most likely person to understand what you are feeling, both because we share similar experiences and because I was attacked only a few years ago, not two Ages ago. It is still fresh in my mind too."

Legolas silently studied his mother, the need to speak to someone he completely trusted and someone who would truly understand warring with the desire to protect her from exposure to such harsh topics. Of course, she had already been exposed to them, as she said. And she had, apparently, recovered. He would never have guessed she was still affected by her experience with those men. She had never shown any sign of even remembering that incident. Yet, she just said it still gave her nightmares. Nightmares triggered by all that had happened to him. How much suffering would this incident cause!

He shook his head, gaze fixed on the floor, and remained silent.

"You will eventually come to terms with all that has happened," Conuion assured him, squeezing his shoulder. "It will take time, but it will happen."

"It will happen faster if you focus on the beauty in the world rather than the ugliness," Lindomiel added. She reached for the practice weapons Conuion still held. "I will put these in their place and then I am going to take your suggestion and weave for a while. Conuion, rather than making Legolas wait for Tureden, would you mind taking him to the Green?"

Legolas almost flinched at the mention of his new guard.

Conuion nodded."Of course I will, my lady."

"Your cousins are there," Lindomiel said, forestalling Legolas's protests. "Aewen will be there. Go. Dance." She pushed him towards the doors of the Hall.

With a quiet sigh, Legolas complied. There was never any use to arguing with his mother. Maybe something on the Green could succeed in distracting him. But he did not really believe that possible. There was not really any doubt in his mind what he would face the first time he returned to the Green.

*~*~*

"And so, all the men are dead," Legolas said, concluding his story. "They are no longer any threat to this realm. Demil is also dead. His brothers escaped, but not before giving up some information that the king can use to capture everyone involved in this plot. The names of the two elves that helped Demil capture us, for example--Lagril and Pelin. All things considered, it could have ended much worse. Though, of course, it ended terribly enough," he glanced at Berior and released a long breath as quietly as he could.

It was not pleasant to relive that experience in the retelling of it. For him or for Anastor, who had added details here and there throughout. They both omitted the worst detail--how Demil had died. He had expected this the first time he ventured onto the Green, but, now that it was done, Legolas was relieved. The best part was that almost everyone who would feel free to question him--all his cousins, friends and even their parents--were present here in Aewen's yard. They had all heard the tale in one telling. Legolas looked at his cousin Galithil, wondering if he had arranged this little gathering purposefully to accomplish that feat. It was possible. If any of his cousins understood the difficulties of being forced to retell the same horrible story over and over, it was Galithil.

"I just do not understand how an elf could do such things," Berior said to no one in particular, shaking his head.

There was a quiet murmuring of agreement. Eirienil nodded. She was the most outwardly unperturbed of anyone present other than Galithil, who already knew the whole story. She had the experience of working in the Great Hall to temper her reaction. Brethil and Aewen's faces were both very pale and their parents were not much better composed.

"I do not understand it either," Anastor replied with a disgusted tone.

Berior turned a cool glare on him, one eyebrow raised. "Your adar understood well enough, apparently," he said under his breath.

Maidhien loosed a soft, annoyed noise and Anastor's expression hardened, his cheeks reddening.

Legolas shot a startled glance at his cousin. The king still considered Dannenion's involvement to be confidential--a secret Berior had been privy to since Demil's original arrest and one that none of them were allowed to discuss in general company. That aside, Anastor and his father had suffered too. It was not like Berior to be cruel and it was cruel, in Legolas's opinion, to remind Anastor of deeds that both he and his father had paid for dearly. Of course, if Berior was blaming Lindomiel for his father's death...

"But why would any elves in this forest threaten our king?" Aewen's mother asked. "Much less in such a terrible way. How would elves even think of such schemes, much less find the means to act upon them?"

"I heard they are not Silvan. Or not Demil anyway," her father answered. "Conuion told us that he was not from this realm when he showed Demil to the warriors in my patrol and warned us not to allow him to re-enter the forest after the king exiled him. So maybe none of them are Silvan."

Menelwen and Dollion both faced Legolas to see if he could confirm that speculation.

"But they could not be Sindar, could they, Legolas? That seems even worse, since all the Sindar in the forest--or most of them, anyway--are the king's personal friends." Aewen said before Legolas could respond to her parents.

Much to Legolas's surprise, Aewen had been fairly stuck to his side all evening, even holding his hand since he first allowed Galithil to drag him to her yard to meet their friends. When his mind could manage to focus on something other than Demil, Legolas found himself hoping that she was not clinging to him simply because the story he had told frightened her. But, surely that was all there was to it. A First Year warrior was currently courting her. Of course, she had not invited that warrior to be here with them now.

"If they are Sindar," Crithad said, interrupting Legolas's speculation about Aewen, "which I greatly doubt, they are not from Menegroth. Those of us that are would not commit such atrocities, having seen them once. Who are they, exactly, Legolas?"

Legolas hesitated over how to answer that. His father had agreed that if the people in the forest asked, he would not hide the reason Manadhien and her servants sought revenge against him. Still, Legolas was not certain it was his place to discuss it.

"Demil is not Silvan or Sindar. He is Noldor," Berior said when Legolas remained silent too long. "When he was first arrested, he said that he and," he paused to glance at Anastor, Noruil and Maidhien, "some others intended to take revenge on the king by murdering everyone in our family and making the king watch that. When they killed my adar and attempted to kill Legolas, Demil made good on that promise."

Aewen, Brethil and their parents gasped at that revelation. Anastor and Maidhien were nearly successful in hiding their glares, while Noruil squirmed uncomfortably. Eirienil and Galithil both stared a warning at Berior.

Berior did not seem to notice. He simply faced Legolas.  "Do you know what they claim the king did? Why they want revenge on him? I have not heard that part, if the king managed to learn it from them."

Everyone again looked at Legolas, waiting to see if he could answer that question.

Legolas clenched his jaw. Berior should know better than to make this discussion public.

"It may be that he knows, but is not at liberty to discuss it," Dollion said softly.

Legolas could not deny that he was tempted to accept that escape, but no one in his family hid from confrontations. Neither would he. "The king said he would explain Demil's claims if asked," he said. "I will do so, since I have been asked. You all know, of course, that my adar and daeradar were forced to fight when the Noldor attacked Menegroth and later Sirion."

Dollion nodded and Crithad visibly tensed, but their wives and children obviously had not known that fact.

"Apparently, they killed an elf named Ulcamarto and his son. Ulcamarto's daughter, Manadhien, and her servants, one of whom was Demil, are now seeking revenge against my adar for that deed."

Aewen drew in a sharp breath and her hand tightened around Legolas's, but before he could do anything to reassure her, Noruil's response commanded everyone's attention.

"Thranduil has actually killed an elf!" he exclaimed loudly in the same scornful voice he always used when speaking of the king. He looked from Legolas to Anastor and his eyes widened further when his cousin did not appear surprised or even slightly disapproving.

"While defending himself and his family," Anastor answered.

"While defending himself, his family and other unarmed citizens, including me," Crithad added.

Legolas tried to ignore Noruil's opinion of killing elves by focusing on Crithad. He looked at him apologetically. He did not intend to remind him of terrible memories. He did not even know that Crithad was in Menegroth during the attack. But when he saw Crithad's expression, he froze. Never had he seen such cold, fury on Crithad's face. And Legolas, alongside Brethil, had confessed plenty of misdeeds to him during their youth.

"Those Noldor were willing to kill anyone. Even people who were unarmed," Crithad continued, pointing to himself. "Who could not fight. Thranduil and Oropher defended us all, at great personal cost. They did what they had to do."

Noruil looked down. "I suppose so," he replied quietly.

"I know so," Anastor said vehemently.

Noruil looked at him, eyebrows raised. So did Eirienil.

"I agree," Dollion said. "As I understand it, Oropher was a warrior in Menegroth. It was his duty to defend its citizens, just as I would defend the citizens of this realm. If I saw an elf attack another elf, I would intervene. If I saw a force of elves attacking this realm, I would fight against them, even if that meant killing them to protect our citizens. That is my duty to this realm as one of its warriors."

Legolas nodded his thanks to Crithad and Dollion. He was more grateful for their words than they could understand.

"May I ask what Glilavan's part in all this was?" Dollion asked after a pause. "Conuion sent me to escort him back from the training exercise. He has been removed as captain. And imprisoned, I have heard."

"An excellent question," Berior said, turning to Legolas expectantly.

Legolas drew a long breath. Glilavan. This part of the tale would be the worst shock, since everyone present was friendly with Glilavan to some degree. Indeed, Galithil, who already knew the answer to Dollion's question, closed his eyes in anticipation of being forced to hear it again. "Glilavan used his position as captain to conspire with Manadhien and her servants," he answered. "He told them what they needed to know in order to compromise the training drill and abduct Anastor and I from the border. When the king questioned him in the Hall, Glilavan concluded the interview by attacking and attempting to kill me with his knife." He held up his left forearm, allowing his sleeve to fall back and reveal the deep cut there that still bore stitches.

Aewen clutched his right hand so hard now that her grip was painful, but she appeared so frightened that Legolas did not have the heart to try to extract his hand from her grasp. Instead, he turned to Berior and continued in a softer voice. "Glilavan also helped Demil's brothers to escape, and in doing so, it is my understanding that he confessed to shooting your adar, though it was one of Demil's brothers that killed him. For attacking me and killing Lord Celonhael, Glilavan has been convicted of high treason."

Dollion loosed a low whistle, shaking his head. Crithad, eyes closed, whispered something. A prayer, possibly. Legolas thought he caught Elbereth's name.

"Glilavan always was an orc's arse!" Noruil exclaimed.

Anastor uttered a worse curse and looked straight at Legolas, fists clenched.

It was Berior who voiced the question Anastor was obviously about to ask. "And what is the king doing with him, then? He had better execute him. I want to see him die for helping to kill my adar."

With effort, Legolas kept his face as expressionless as he could manage. That was the closest he had ever heard anyone in his family come to publicly questioning the king, though, granted, Berior did not know yet that his statement contradicted the king's decision. Only Legolas, Galithil and Dolgailon had been present to hear what Thranduil would do with Glilavan.

"Execute him?" exclaimed Merileth. One hand flew to cover her mouth and the other sought out her husband's.

"The king would not execute elves," Crithad reassured her, patting her hand. "He will exile him, as he did Demil."

"So he can come back and kill more people?" Dollion asked. "Demil, with Glilavan's help, returned from exile to kill two Sixth Years, Lord Celonhael and almost the king's own son. Berior is right. Glilavan and everyone else that participated in this must be prevented from doing more harm."

"Would you kill him then?" Crithad demanded.

"If the king ordered it, yes," the captain of the Palace Guard replied without hesitation, nodding once.

"Dollion, no," Menelwen whispered.

Dollion turned a look on his wife that clearly demanded silence. "I trust the king's judgment and I will obey it."

Crithad looked down at that. "Well said, Dollion. I cannot argue against that reasoning, especially given all the king has seen. He would fully understand that judgment, should he have to make it. Still, I hope that he is not forced to."

"If these elves are going to continue attacking the king's family--and they said they would, apparently--he will have to," Brethil said. "I am not even in the training yet, but I would fight these elves to defend the king. Or anyone in his family." He turned to Legolas. "If I had been there with you, I would have fought them."

"So would I," Noruil said.

"And I," Galithil added softly.

"So would I," Aewen said. "If I saw them attack Legolas or anyone else. But I cannot imagine the king having to....what would he even do? Would he stab them with his sword?"

"I would be happy shoot them with an arrow as they shot my adar," Berior said.

"Enough!" Legolas intervened before anyone could respond to Berior's comment and make the argument worse. "The king has decided that Glilavan will be taken under guard to the Havens and sent to Aman to be judged by the Valar there." He avoided saying that his father had decided to execute Fuilin and Mauril, if they were caught. Legolas still hoped to persuade him to find another punishment for them.

"That is a good solution," Crithad said, with obvious relief.

"It is, no doubt, the best decision he can make," Dollion agreed.

Only Berior scowled. "I would rather see Glilavan executed here. That would ensure he is beyond the ability to hurt anyone else and will be judged by the Valar in Mandos Halls."

Legolas turned a squelching glare on his cousin now. Publicly gainsaying the king was completely unacceptable and Berior knew it. He was grieving, obviously, but that was no excuse. "Executing Glilavan is not what your adar wanted, Berior," he said quietly. "When the king asked his opinion on this matter, your adar stated that executing any of them was an unthinkable crime against the laws of both the Eldar and the Valar. Those were his words. Words he backed up with actions. He took Fuilin and Mauril north in order to remove them from the king's sight, fearing he might be provoked into executing them before properly considering that decision..."

"And that kindness was repaid with death," Berior retorted.

"Your adar knew the dangers, Berior," Legolas replied. "Knowing them, he chose, of his own free will, to take on the risk of showing mercy to Fuilin and Mauril. In doing so, he lost his life, but preserved his fea. Executing them, or standing idly while they were executed, was an act that he believed would shadow his entire family--he said he would not even allow you to witness it, if the king chose to execute them. He wanted to try to prevent it, if possible, and I believe he made the right choice..."

"Easy for you to say, since your adar was not the one who died," Berior interrupted, voice raised.

Legolas leaned forward, towards Berior, trying to keep his tone reasonable, but doubting that he entirely succeeded. "Your adar was trying to show that there are ways to prevent murder without doing murder ourselves. Killing elves is evil. I would rather die myself than employ evil or become evil and if..."

"Well that frightens me, my lord," Berior cut him off, now shouting. He rose to his feet to tower over Legolas. "Who else are you willing to allow to die with you?" he asked "I want to believe that the king will do whatever is necessary to keep the forest safe. That is his duty, after all. It might be yours one day. Would you do it? It appears not!"

"Out of line, Berior!" Galithil shouted, also standing to face off with his cousin.

"You want to shut up," Anastor said, jumping up and interposing himself between Berior and Legolas. "You have no understanding of what you are talking about. You have never even killed an orc. Legolas has already fought several battles and killed many enemies."

Berior glared at Galithil and Anastor, but did not back down. Instead, hands on his hips, he looked past them at Legolas, awaiting an answer.

Legolas frowned and held his gaze, but he did not stand himself. "The deeds that Manadhien and her servants have committed are evil, no doubt," he said in a quiet, even voice. "And I agree that everyone in the forest, my family especially, is obligated to fight against evil in this realm to keep its citizens safe. But I firmly believe that while fighting evil, we must not become evil or do evil ourselves. Therefore, I can say that, should such a decision fall to me, I would only execute an elf--or a man--if I had exhausted every other alternative. But, if I had to, yes, Berior, I could do it to protect this realm."

"And Anastor accused me of speaking of things I did not understand," Berior muttered.

Legolas's back stiffened.

"May neither Legolas nor the king be forced to such acts," Anastor said, speaking over him. "Glilavan has been judged by the king and will be judged by the Valar. I hope orcs get the rest of his co-conspirators. They deserve the nasty way orcs would kill them. But It is not any of our places, not even Legolas's, to question whatever decision the king has made regarding Glilavan. This conversation needs to end. Now."

"Well said, Anastor," Galithil replied.

"Indeed so," agreed Maidhien, eyebrows raised at her brother.

Eirienil nodded, also appraising Anastor with open surprise.

If the situation had been less tense, Legolas would have laughed at Maidhien and Eirienil. Truth be told, he was impressed by Anastor's words as well. Much better impressed with him than with Berior.

Berior looked between Legolas and Anastor, breathing hard. Then he stalked off without another word, pushing his way past Anastor and Galithil.

"He needs time to heal," Crithad whispered. "He is grieving and did not think before he spoke."

Everyone remained silent, watching Berior leave with sympathetic expressions.

*~*~*

Legolas and Galithil walked swiftly down the main corridor of the family quarters. Conuion had finally insisted they come in from the Green. All their other cousins and friends had retired to their own rooms or cottages, much to Legolas's relief. He wanted solitude. He had suffered all the company he could bear for the evening.

A light under the king's office door showed he was still working. Hallion was likely with him. Legolas glanced into the sitting room. It was empty. He frowned, wondering where his mother was, since there was no light under the door to his parent's suite. She must still be weaving. On the positive side, Engwe was not in the sitting room either. Legolas cut into the room just as he was about to pass the door.

Galithil emitted an annoyed growl, stumbling after him. "A little warning," he mumbled.

That made Legolas grin as he walked straight past the chairs his parents normally sat in.

"You do not even want any wine?" Galithil asked, pausing by the small table that held drinks and snacks.

"I would not complain if you brought some for me," Legolas replied without slowing down. He laid a hand on the stone wall behind the chairs. A seam appeared in it and then a door swung open, leading into the Queen's garden. "Close the door again on your way out, so no one bothers us," he said, stepping outside.

As soon as he did, Legolas stopped short. Galithil's sarcastic reply was lost as Legolas focused on the garden's occupant. Dolgailon sat on the bench under the beech in the middle of the garden. An empty goblet sat next him as he stared up at the stars. His expression was grave and he brought it under control only with obvious effort when he realized someone had joined him.

"I beg your pardon, Dolgailon," Legolas said softly, taking a step backwards. "I will leave you to your thoughts."

Dolgailon shook his head and raised a hand from his lap to wave Legolas forward. "I would prefer company, if you are willing," he said, trying to smile.

Misery loves company. Legolas had learned that Mannish expression when he had studied Westron, but he said nothing. He only continued his march into the garden. The night air was crisp and the smell of fall leaves lingered in it. That was a pleasant smell that reminded Legolas of childhood games jumping and hiding in piles of leaves. He settled on the ground in front of the bench, causing Dolgailon's brows to rise. Before his older cousin could say anything, Legolas laid flat on his back, pillowing his head on one hand bent behind him. With his other hand, he picked up a bright yellow leaf and twirled it by its stem, studying it silently.

Dolgailon nodded and leaned back against the tree.

"Do you want me to pour your wine down your throat?" Galithil asked, interrupting the silence as he juggled two wine goblets, a flagon and struggled to close the stone door with a foot.

"If you are not careful, you might spill it down your own shirt," Dolgailon replied, watching his brother with an amused expression.

"No one should bother to get up and help. I can manage," Galithil said, finally hooking his foot around the door and giving it a good shove.

"Of course you can. Bring me that flagon. My goblet is empty," Dolgailon said with all apparent seriousness.

Legolas snickered, causing Dolgailon to openly laugh as Galithil made a face at him. Dolgailon took the flagon from Galithil as he approached the bench and refilled his goblet. Galithil dropped Legolas's goblet next to him on the ground, took the flagon from his brother and sat next to Legolas, leaning back, propped up by one hand. He filled his goblet and placed the flagon on the ground next to Legolas, leaving him to pour for himself. Legolas did not bother to sit up to do so.

They sipped their wine and studied the stars in companionable silence for a long while.

Finally, Dolgailon looked at Legolas and Galithil.

"The two of you have training in the morning, do you not?" he asked.

Rather than annoying Galithil, as his older brother's attempts at parenting always did, that question caused him to spin around and stare at Legolas. "Are you returning to training tomorrow?" he asked, voice rising in surprise.

Legolas nodded. "I am supposed to, yes. At least for the classes, not for the weapons training. Nestoreth says I must wait several more days for my ribs to completely heal before I can do any training that involves contact, like sparring or the hand-to-hand combat drills." He glanced at Dolgailon. "I will be on time, commander. The First Years have drills in the morning and classes in the afternoon this week. If staying up late makes me late for anything, it will be petitions, not training."

Dolgailon raised an eyebrow. "I doubt the king will respond better to lateness than the training masters would."

Legolas now tilted his head forward to look at his cousin fully. "I notice that you are here along with me, so how will the king respond when the orders to the patrols are not sent on time?" he asked. "For that matter, how will Arthiel respond when she cannot find her husband?"

Dolgailon snorted and shook his head. "You win, Legolas. We will both report for our respective duties on time in the morning. And as for Arthiel, she threw me out of our bed until I can stay in it without keeping her awake, so I am trying to be a good husband by being here rather than with her," he responded.

Galithil laughed out loud at that. "And I was counting on you for marital advice," he said. "But then, you have been married for almost 50 years and you still do not have any children, so I suppose you are not keeping Arthiel awake for the right reasons. Obviously not in her opinion, at any rate."

Dolgailon launched a kick in his brother's direction. "I am having trouble sleeping and my tossing and turning is keeping her awake, you little orc. Govern your tongue when speaking about my wife," he responded, his broad smile tempering his words.

Galithil reached over and shoved at his brother's boot in retaliation for the kick.

"Why are you having trouble sleeping?" Legolas asked, watching as Dolgailon continued to poke repeatedly at Galithil with his boot. Galithil slapped it and then seized his brother's ankle to prevent further attacks.

"For the same reason you apparently are, I imagine, Legolas," he replied, trying to free his foot. "Take care the conversations you begin."

Legolas propped his arm behind his head to better look at his cousin. "If you would prefer not to speak of it, I will respect that, obviously, but I cannot deny that I am curious what aspect of the recent events could cause you to lose sleep."

Dolgailon looked at him sidelong. "Very well. I have been replaying in my mind what I could have done differently, since returning to live in the stronghold, to prevent everything that has happened over the last few days." He shook his head, abandoning his game with Galithil and becoming very serious. "I cannot believe Glilavan...." He closed his eyes. "He could have killed you, Legolas. He is responsible, at least partly, for Celonhael's death and the deaths of two Sixth Years. How could I not see the danger he represented? I am so sorry that I did not."

"If you are apologizing to me, Dolgailon, I do not need or want an apology. You are not responsible for Glilavan's actions."

Dolgailon looked at him. "Yes, Legolas, I am. I made him captain of that program, knowing you and my little brother were about to enter it. I put him in a position that he was able to take advantage of. And I did that despite the fact that the king and my adar warned me repeatedly that Glilavan could not be trusted." He paused. "Even you warned me, Legolas. Ten years ago, when I first promoted him, you told me that that you heard Tulus tell Glilavan that if you were attacked, that would mean Tulus would be attacked. You were suspicious of that conversation. Do you remember that?"

Legolas went stock still. He had not remembered it until now.

"You obviously do," Dolgailon said. "You came to me because you did not know how to bring such a conversation to the king's attention. I should have told him. But did I? No, because I did not have the ability a thirty-five year old child had to judge Glilavan's character. So I had a conversation with Glilavan and Tulus and convinced myself that I had done more than enough. If I had listened to you then, you might not have..." he drifted to silence and ran his gaze across Legolas's various injuries. "What would you say? Around 50 stitches, all told?"

"Do not remind me," Legolas exclaimed, keeping his tone playful in an effort to make Dolgailon see that he truly did not blame him. "How is it that the wound is never, never as painful as its treatment?"

Dolgailon shook his head and laughed, but he looked miserable. "A forty-six year old child should not know that so well and you would not save for Manadhien's attacks on this family. Their success is at least partially my fault. I made Glilavan your captain. I have defended him since Manadhien first attacked the queen. Over and over I told the king that Glilavan is a good officer. An outstanding warrior. My friend." He spat that last phrase. "Legolas, until I saw him attack you, I was ready to argue with the king that there was, in fact, no evidence to convict him except the accusations of three traitors. I believed that his explanations for all of the king's questions were logical...."

"They were," Legolas agreed, cutting off Dolgailon's self criticism. "That is what made him dangerous. He was smart and played his role well."

Dolgailon did not appear to hear that. He continued without pause. "I have been an utter fool. I am ashamed to even look at your adar." He paused. "I am ashamed to look at you," he added softly.

"I understand that," Galithil said. His voice was full of regret. "Glilavan deceived me too. I defended him to Legolas a hundred times in the last year alone. I could not believe my own eyes when he drew his knife..."

Dolgailon responded to that with a wince and a nod.

Legolas studied his cousins for a moment. Then he hauled himself up to sit cross-legged. First he addressed Galithil. "Glilavan was always nice to you. We were children. Young children. And Glilavan gave you what you wanted. Being a young child, you did not have the experience to see anything deceitful in Glilavan's behavior and if I did, it is because my adar told me , long before he told you, that he thought Glilavan guilty of treason, though he could not prove it. Naturally, we had differing views of Glilavan." He turned to Dolgailon. "And Glilavan was your mentor when you were a new warrior. When you first came of age. True?"

Dolgailon nodded. "It is only by the grace of the Valar that he did not simply let one of my mistakes kill me then," he muttered.

"But he did not," Legolas continued. "In fact, you have told us stories about how he helped Galudiron save your life several times when you did make mistakes that would have killed you."

Dolgailon remained silent.

"And you spent leaves with him, in Tulus's home. You enjoyed that because you were friends. With both of them."

Dolgailon laughed bitterly. "I thought he was my friend, but now I can only believe that he was forming that supposed friendship because of its potential later use. Manadhien probably told him to do it." He glanced at Galithil. "Just as he tried to manipulate Galithil. That is what adar and the king and you," he directed himself back to Legolas, "all thought was happening when Glilavan first befriended him."

"It is also possible that Glilavan truly was your friend, Dolgailon. That he did not hate you as he apparently does my adar. Perhaps he saw something in you that he never saw in the king. He certainly thought you are a good warrior and he respected you as an officer. I know that because if I had heard him say one more time, 'Dolgailon caught on to this right away. What is your problem?' I might have struck an officer."

Dolgailon raised an eyebrow and laughed despite himself, but his response was serious. "I based my judgments of Glilavan solely on my own interactions with him and I ignored the way he treated you. I dismissed what you said about him because you were a child and I thought your adar and mine had influenced your opinions of Glilavan. I continued to dismiss what I heard about his treatment of you in the training program--what I heard from the officers in the program--because I trusted him. I was a fool."

"I admit that I thought his treatment of me was unfair in training," Legolas said. "But I believed the justification he gave for it in court when Dannenion brought that up. I think perhaps his treatment of me was a mixture of his hatred for my adar and a desire to make me into what he would see as a better leader, more like you."

"Until he tried to kill you, at least," Dolgailon concluded sarcastically. "Dead leaders rarely have much use."

Legolas frowned. "Dolgailon, hear me when I say that it did not occur to me to blame you for trusting Glilavan. Ever. If you say that Glilavan was a good officer and a good warrior, then I trust that judgment. Unfortunately, he also, apparently, blamed the king for the death of his brother and the loss of his naneth and Manadhien twisted those losses into hatred. Such a blind hatred that he was willing to endanger even his own father. Glilavan betrayed both friends and family...."

"That much is certain," Dolgailon said.

"But his betrayal is not your fault."

"I command this realm's warriors, Legolas. Everything pertaining to those warriors is my responsibility. That is the nature of command. You know that."

"I do. I also know that when we make command decisions, we make the best ones we can based on the information we have and, if we later find that information is inaccurate or incomplete, we have to adapt. If we make a mistake, we learn from it and move on."

"So long as you are alive to do so, which, this time, you are exceedingly lucky to be."

"Not lucky. Well trained. In the program you designed, by the officers you chose, including Glilavan."

Dolgailon studied Legolas silently for a long moment. "Well trained. I will grant you that. You responded very well to all of this."

Legolas sighed and looked between Galithil and Dolgailon. Neither appeared any less remorseful than they had when this conversation began. Maybe their guilt, like his own, was something that would only be assuaged with time. He laid back on the ground, head pillowed on his arm.

"There are few injuries that are more painful than cracked ribs, in my experience," Dolgailon commented in response to Legolas's still slow and careful movements. "How did that happen, if I may ask? Or better still, tell me how you got that impressive cut. Knife fight with the men?"

Legolas tensed and did not answer. He had spoken about his abduction earlier because he knew it would be impossible to avoid doing so entirely, but Dolgailon's question required a much more specific answer, on a much more difficult topic. From the corner of his eye, he saw Galithil shake his head at his brother, mouthing 'he has had enough.'

Dolgailon only scowled. "Tulus made his report about this incident before leaving for the village, Legolas," he said very softly. "It was remarkably undetailed, yet the king accepted it. That struck me as very suspicious."

That made even Galithil raise an eyebrow.

Legolas stiffened and looked at Dolgailon, searching his older cousin's eyes to try to determine what he knew or suspected he knew--if he, like Lindomiel, had guessed too much. But Dolgailion appeared remarkably calm. Unperturbed. He likely knew very little then, Legolas concluded, turning away.

"From what little I could glean from that report, you managed yourself very well, as I already said. Still I am curious about several things. For example, surrendering yourself to save Tulus and Anastor must have been a difficult decision. I understand at that point Tulus had already been wounded and disrmed by Demil's arrow and one of the elves had a knife to Anastor's throat, so I see why you chose to surrender."

Dolgailon definitely knew nothing. Not if that was what he thought made Legolas unwilling to speak. Still, that decision to surrender did plague Legolas. It was the one that set everything else in motion--their abduction, Anastor being forced to kill the man, Dannenion loosing his arm, Demil's death, Celonhael's death...

"But it was a decision that contradicted what you, specifically, were taught in the training program about allowing yourself to be taken hostage," Dolgailon pressed.

Legolas drew a long breath and let it out slowly. He pushed himself up to a seated position again. "That was a difficult decision," he answered, accepting, albeit begrudgingly, that Dolgailon was not going to abandon his questioning. Perhaps Legolas could keep the conversation focused away from the worst topics, as he had earlier. "I understand the position I put the king in. I was aware of the risk to this realm when I allowed myself to be captured. Especially when I could have killed Demil right there. Did Tulus put that in his report? I had an arrow on Demil, but Demil had his arrow on Tulus and Pelin had a knife at Anastor's throat. I did not see how I could shoot both Demil and Pelin too before he slit Anastor's throat." Legolas loosed a bitter laugh. "Demil helpfully pointed out, after I surrendered, that the proper thing to do would have been to use the arrow I had nocked on Pelin first, to eliminate the greatest threat, and then shoot him--Demil--second. If I had thought of that, I am sure I could have managed it. I could have shot Pelin and then Demil fast enough to get them both before Demil got an arrow off. But I did not think if it."

Legolas expected some sort of reprimand for that failure. He deserved one and he knew it. But Dolgailon did not make one. "I have seen your skill with a bow. I think you could have managed to do what Demil suggested. But given the added pressure to aim well enough to injure and not kill--since they were elves and not men--it would have been a difficult shot, even for a more experienced warrior. I think you made the proper choice, difficult as it must have been. I might have done the same thing, in hope of a solution where I did not have to injure any elves."

Injure any elves! Legolas swallowed hard as the memory of Demil's blood flowing over his hands involuntarily arose in his mind. He said nothing.

"Tulus's report also said that you and Anastor escaped from the men before he and Dannenion managed to aid you," Dolgailon said after a brief pause. "That is impressive. Will you tell me how you managed it?"

Legolas closed his eyes. "We had worked ourselves free, but there was a man in the tent with us. I stabbed him with...something. Anastor grabbed his knife and finished him. And we slit the back of the tent and ran."

"A good many men came after you when they discovered your escape, the report said. Did you get that cut fighting one of them?"

"I got it when Tulus and Dannenion were trying to hold off the men, yes," Legolas answered.

"Do you know when Demil came into all this? The king killed him before he found you, I assume?"

Legolas look up at his older cousin again. "Did adar tell you that he killed Demil?"

Dolgailon shook his head. "He is being evasive about discussing it, which is understandable. I would find it difficult to talk about if I had been there and been forced to kill him. But, Conuion's report did not mention Demil at all. It did say that Celonhael managed to capture Fuilin and Mauril, and made no mention of Demil being with them, so I thought it must be that Thranduil killed him before you met up with Celonhael."

He waited for Legolas to elaborate on what happened.

Legolas forced his face to be completely blank, but he could not speak. He simply did not know how to explain what happened to Demil.

"You did not see...were you there when...Demil died?" Dolgailon asked, eyes widening as he recognized how uncomfortable Legolas was despite his efforts to hide it.

Legolas nodded and looked down. He could not let Dolgailon and Galithil think that his father killed Demil. It was wrong to allow him to take blame. But... He took a deep breath.

"Did Demil fight Thranduil or did the king execute him?" Dolgailon asked, his voice a mere whisper.

"Adar did not fight him..."

"Elbereth! He executed him!" Dolgailon exclaimed, trying and failing badly to not sound disapproving.

"No he did not," Legolas rushed to say.

Dolgailon frowned in confusion. "If Thranduil did not fight him or execute him, how did he die?" His jaw dropped. "Did Dannenion kill him? I assumed he lost his arm fighting the men. Tulus's report said Dannenion fought the men with him." He fell silent, waiting for Legolas to answer that question.

Legolas found himself staring at his cousin, trying to speak, but his mouth would not form any words. "Dannenion did fight him..." he finally managed to stammer. "To defend Anastor and I... that is how Dannenion lost his arm... Demil did it..."

Dolgailon shook his head and waved his hands in front of him, cutting Legolas off. "You do not have to talk about this. Indeed, Uncle Thranduil will be furious with me, with good reason, for dragging you this far into it. I am sorry, Legolas. And even sorrier that you had to see such things."

"Dolgailon..." Legolas tried to interrupt.

"That explains why the king is so certain of Dannenion's new loyalty to him," Dolgailon muttered. "He seems to have earned the king's trust, true enough, I suppose. Of course, he was likely defending his own sniveling son more than he was you. I hope Thranduil has thought of that."

"Anastor and I were doing well enough against Demil on our own, Dolgailon," Legolas blurted out, not willing to listen to either Dannenion or Anastor be disparaged. "Indeed, I would not be alive if not for both Anastor and Dannenion. Anastor would not leave me when he had the chance to run. He stayed and fought with me. He jumped in behind Demil and stabbed him with a knife. Twice. Both times, Demil would have at least managed to disarm, if not kill me, had Anastor not intervened. And when Demil got the knife from him, Anastor jumped, unarmed, onto Demil's back. To give me time to recover enough from this," he pointed to his chest, "to be able to defend myself again. That was when Dannenion joined the fight too. They both fought bravely and we all would be dead if that were not so."

By the time Legolas stopped speaking, both Galithil and Dolgailon were gaping at him.

"You fought Demil?" Dolgailon asked.

Legolas tensed and looked down, nodding.

"With a sword? A knife?"

"Anastor and I had one sword between us that we stole from the man when we escaped and I held it since I at least have some idea how to wield it...."

"More than I thought if you could hold your own against someone like Demil," Dolgailon interrupted. "You must have fought very well to hold him off. I have never, not even once, beaten uncle Thranduil or Engwe sparring. Their experience, like Demil's, dates to the First Age."

Legolas snorted bitterly. "So Demil reminded me. I was lucky, Dolgailon. Nothing more. At first, he tried to disarm me because he wanted to recapture Anastor and I and sell us to another group of men for still more gold. He wanted me as uninjured as he could manage and believed that I could not fight at all. When I fought better than he expected, he grew more serious, but he also believed by then that I would not kill him, because I had not taken advantage of several opportunities to do so. Several times, he left himself completely open, since he thought I would not take a killing blow..."

"Then he was a fool," Dolgailon interrupted. "Never assume anything in a fight, Legolas, unless it is that your opponent is willing to kill you."

Legolas only managed to nod in response to that.

"Of course, obviously I understand why you did not take advantage of those opportunities to kill him. I am not at all certain that I could have killed him either. He was an elf, not an orc. Supposedly. But I am very pleased with your ability to analyze the fight. It sounds as if you fought well." He paused, shaking his head, but continued again before Legolas could more fully explain what really happened. "Neither Conuion's nor Tulus's report included a word about this fight, likely at the king's orders since you were involved. But I will speak to Anastor about his bravery," Dolgailon said.

"You should," Legolas agreed, some animation returning to his voice. "He would be very pleased to hear from the realm's Troop Commander that he was brave. Hearing about his adar was very hard on him. He needs support right now."

Dolgailon leaned down and placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "You do realize how brave your own actions were? You and Anastor freed yourselves, killing a man and holding off an elf. By keeping your head under remarkably difficult circumstances that few elves have experienced, you survived. True, Dannenion was badly wounded. You all were wounded, but warriors are sometimes wounded and you all did survive. No one died but the enemy. You won this scenario. And I find that very impressive. You did very well, Legolas."

Legolas managed a half smile at him. "Thank you," he said quietly. He said nothing more. Dolgailon's words did spark a tiny bit of pride in him that he quickly dismissed. He was not certain it was appropriate to feel proud of anything that had happened. He still had not even managed to confess the worst of it, so Dolgailon might be of a different mind once he did.

"Has your adar spoken to you about this Legolas?" Dolgailon asked.

"Of course," Legolas answered quickly.

Dolgailon looked at him doubtfully.

Well, that reaction was somewhat justified and Legolas could not deny it. His father had spoken to him. He had drilled him on the facts surrounding this incident and then used what he had learned to interrogate Fuilin. Given how busy the king had been managing this situation, they had not specifically spoken about what Legolas had done and that suited Legolas fine.

"Perhaps you and I should speak to the training masters about it as well," Dolgailon continued after a moment.

Legolas's gaze snapped to his cousin and he drew a breath to protest.

"To analyze some of the decisions you and Anastor made for the sake of discussing their advantages and disadvantages. It might help you to talk about it."

"I will consider it. Unless that is an order. In that case, I will comply, obviously," Legolas replied stiffly.

"It is not an order," Dolgailon replied. "I would never order you or anyone else to speak of something private. But Legolas, I think you should consider talking about this more. It is plainly obvious how uncomfortable you feel for fighting Demil. Guilty, even. I only want to do whatever I can to help you realize that what you did, you had both the right and the duty to do."

Legolas nodded without looking at him. "I do understand that, Dolgailon. Adar told me that and so did Tulus and Conuion. And Dannenion. And Anastor. And even nana. Understanding it and truly believing it are two different things. I imagine time will help the most."

Dolgailon studied him for a long moment and then leaned back against the tree. "I would say time and a little sleep, but since we are both in this garden rather than in our respective beds, I have no room to criticize you on that score." He turned his attention back to the stars.

Legolas did the same. If Dolgailon felt guilty about Glilavan without even knowing everything that had happened, perhaps it was best not to burden him with even more.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- mother/mum
ion nin -- my son
Daeradar -- Grandfather
Ellon/ellyn -- male elf/elves

I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling into ruin and I alone could save her, so using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs. 
Faramir, Two Towers
 
Chapter 2: Of grief

Legolas sat stiffly at the meeting table in the Great Hall, in an effort not to fidget. His attention was not nearly as focused on the morning council meeting as it normally would be. Concentration was ridiculously difficult recently. The fact that Berior cast him regular glares from where he sat copying at one of the scribe's tables did not improve the situation.

"The last matter we have to discuss is Tulus's first report," Hallion was saying.

Legolas's gaze snapped to the king's steward.

He was flattening a small, rolled up piece of paper. Though the runes on it were tiny, they were clearly in Tulus's hand. Legolas stared at it. He truly missed Tulus. He would have under the best of circumstances, but it was especially true in light of how...unfriendly, annoying, meddlesome, heavy-handed his new guard, Tureden, had been thus far.

Hallion handed Tulus's report to Dolgailon. Dolgailon took it and his eyes darted back and forth as he quickly scanned it.

"Can you explain to me why she is buying horses?" Thranduil asked as he read.

"The smaller villages in the south have been asking for horses for years, my lord," Engwe replied, his tone dramatically bored. The council had run late this morning.

"Surely my adar mentioned that to you at least once. He promised that he would," Dolgailon added, handing the note back to Hallion.

Legolas held out his hand for it as his father obviously searched for any memories of such a conversation with Aradunnon and finally found them.

Hallion glanced at Thranduil. When the king nodded his permission, Hallion handed the paper to Legolas. Galithil leaned over his cousin's shoulder to read it with him:

Men from the western plain
are in the village, negotiating
to sell her ten horses--two for
each village in the south.
Mare and stallion.

Legolas looked back at his father.

"If I recall correctly, Aradunnon defended the idea of the horses saying it would improve communications between the villages and to the stronghold?" Thranduil asked Dolgailon.

Dolgailon nodded. "And I agree with that argument, my lord. I also would have begged you for the horses, if adar had not already led me to believe it would be a fruitless battle."

"Aradunnon and I proposed it several times to no avail," Golwon confirmed.

Thranduil leaned back in his chair and scowled. "We barely have enough horses for the patrols. I cannot supply villages with horses. Do you think we should let her buy them? Would they be worth the damage it might do?"

Dolgailon held the king's gaze and remained silent, thinking.

"It would not," Galithil said before Dolgailon could reply. "Nothing is worth allowing her to further undermine Dolgailon's authority in that village or the king's in this forest. And providing those villages with horses is even more significant than arming the village guards with swords. When she bought the swords, she bought loyalty in one village. When she buys horses for five villages, she buys loyalty in the entire southern half of this realm. She is expanding her influence. It cannot be allowed."

Hallion nodded. "Those were my thoughts exactly. Unless you can argue convincingly otherwise, Dolgailon, I think we must find a way to put a stop to this."

"To be frank, my initial response is to agree with Galithil and Hallion," Thranduil said.

Dolgailon loosed a long sigh. "I must also agree. We cannot allow her to provide such extravagant gifts to the villages. It is a terrible pity, though. Horses could save lives in those villages, if the guards could use them to run orders and more thorough information than can be sent via bird." He paused and continued in a half-joking tone. "Could we steal her gold somehow and use it to buy the horses ourselves? If Tulus can spy on her to get this information, he could steal the gold, I would wager. It is not wrong to steal it, given the methods she used to obtain it herself."

Thranduil laughed. "If I could steal that gold, I would do it without the slightest qualm. Excellent idea. I will tell Tulus to do it if he can. As for the horses, how will we prevent her from buying them without angering the villagers she has undoubtedly already promised them to? If I openly intervene to stop her supposed generosity, I will drive those villagers even closer to her than if I let her buy the horses to begin with. At least if I let her buy them, I end up with ten horses for Legolas's suffering."

"You already have ten horses, my lord," Legolas replied. "We led at least ten horses from the men's camp and Anastor and I each rode one as well. Are they decent stock? I confess, I did not bother to pay attention, but if they are, why not give those horses to the villages and usurp Manadhien's plan?" He smiled coldly. "And then steal the gold too, by all means."

Thranduil frowned, considering that suggestion. "I had planned on using those horses for the warriors and the Path Guard," he said, looking back at Dolgailon and Golwon for their opinions.

"The southern villages need horses more than the Guard needs spare horses," Dolgailon said, as Golwon nodded. "I would prefer to see them go to the villages."

"You are the authority on both those areas, Dolgailon. It is your decision." Then Thranduil directed himself to Hallion. "Let the villages have the horses. I doubt we can provide a mare and stallion to each village, but there were a few mares amongst them, I seem to recall. So they will be able to breed them and hopefully get more mares doing so. How should we deliver them? It would raise suspicions if I send ten horses south just as she is negotiating for the same thing. She would surely conclude someone betrayed her plans and it would put her on her guard. We do not want that. It would prolong the amount of time we will need to spy on her."

"I will take them south and distribute them myself, if that suites you, my lord," Dolgailon said. "I can play ignorant of her plans, explain how we got the horses and say that you thought of the villages' needs when you so fortunately came into extra stock. That will please the village leaders. And then, when I come into my village and 'hear' that she was planning to buy horses herself, I can remind her such decisions are not hers to make. I would enjoy asking her where she got such a sum of gold and watching her try to explain that, as well."

Thranduil considered that suggestion silently for a long moment. "I do not like the idea of you going anywhere near her," he finally said.

Dolgailon's brows rose dramatically. "I am this realm's troop commander," he exclaimed. "I have five hundred years experience as an officer. Surely I can be trusted to defend myself against a single elleth, while protected by my guard and watched by seven spies, one of whom once also served the King's Guard."

"A single elleth with an unknown number of servants--at least four--in hiding, who has openly declared she intends to murder everyone here, has proven she is willing to do so, and who you yourself believe command orcs," Engwe repled dryly.

"Indeed," Thranduil agreed. "I am not comfortable with you going to that village."

I do not like it either," Galithil interjected, "but still I would recommend that he go. I would even recommend that he stay there in the interest of better controlling the damage she can do."

Dolgailon cast a glare at his younger brother intended to silence him.

"If he stays, it might drive her away," Legolas said. "I truly believe that she only stays there to build her little realm. If that becomes impossible because Dolgailon returns and takes it away from her--if she leaves--she will be harder to spy upon and we may never get all her servants. She may even completely disappear herself."

"She had better not, for Tulus's sake," Thranduil muttered.

"Maybe," Galithil conceded, addressing Legolas and distracting him from his father's threat. "But at the very least, someone in this family--preferably Dolgailon or the king himself--needs to deliver these horses to remind those villages who has provided for them for two ages of this world."

"She would definitely flee if adar went south," Legolas said. "Just as she left the village the last time he travelled there. She knows he will recognize her. Dolgailon, on the other hand, she fancies to be ignorant. Assuming he could manage to continue playing ignorant, he is really the only member of the family she will not run from, other than you and I."

Galithil looked at Thranduil, drawing a breath to speak.

"There is no possibility. None at all," Thranduil said before Galithil even finished his breath. "Do not even dream of suggesting that I should allow you to take those horses south." He turned back to Dolgailon. "You may go. But remember this: I cannot afford to lose you, Dolgailon. There is no one else I could trust to command this realm's warriors."

"I do not plan on dying, uncle," Dolgailon replied, ignoring Engwe's dramatic sigh.

"Neither did Celonhael," Thranduil answered. "Neither did Legolas plan on being abducted. Both happened. Legolas and Celonhael do not have your battle experience, but neither are they defenseless. This is not warfare, it is treachery, and that is something none of us have experience enough to match hers."

"I am forewarned, my lord," Dolgailon said calmly. "I will be careful. But I agree with Galithil that I should be the one to deliver those horses. If for no other reason than I told Manadhien that I would not tolerate her making decisions like buying those swords again. She has ignored my command and I cannot let that pass. I must respond to it."

Thranduil frowned. "Handle it carefully. Do not anger her enough to drive her away. I will send a message to Tulus alerting him that you will be visiting the village in case Manadhien reacts in some extreme manner. And we will speak to Conuion about the possibility of sending another guard with Galudiron."

"Very well," Dolgailon replied, obviously choosing not to argue.

"If that is decided, I think that is all for the morning," Hallion said, beginning to gather the papers in front of him.

Everyone looked at the king to dismiss the council.

Instead, Thranduil leaned forward. "There are two more issues that I would like to resolve," he said speaking quietly, as he did when he did not want the scribes to hear their conversation. "I believe we can dispense with them quickly."

Hallion stopped straightening papers and looked at the king with slightly raised eyebrows.

"First is the matter of who will assume Celonhael's duties," Thranduil continued. "I have given a good deal of thought to that and discussed it with Lindomiel, since it is she that worked most closely with Celonhael in his primary duties of managing foreign trade and the realm's finances. We agreed that Berior is the most obvious choice to take his father's place..."

"Berior is a child, Thranduil," Engwe interrupted. "You cannot send children to negotiate with men in Dale and Esgaroth."

"Berior will be of age in five years. We can use that time to ensure that he can manage his father's duties. He is already familiar with them to some degree, after all. Berior served in his adar's office as long as Legolas has served mine and Galithil has served the Troop Commander," Thranduil retorted firmly. Then he continued in a calmer voice. "The queen can manage trade until Berior comes of age. Besides, I am recommending that Berior assume the responsibility of managing the realm's finances, including planning trade, but not necessarily directly negotiating it. I would want to see more of his interactions with foreign realms before he did that." He turned to Legolas. "I have seen something of Legolas's dealings with men and dwarves and I have been quite pleased with them. We need someone who can get along with Men--at least better than any of us can feign to do. Legolas seemed disposed to genuinely making an effort to work with them. Lindomiel and I agreed Legolas might be more suited to conducting negotiations with her."

Legolas met his father's gaze and he knew he looked eager. Perhaps over-eager. He could not help it.

"Legolas is also a child," Engwe said.

"Who will be of age in four years," Thranduil replied, "and who already serves this council."

"Granted. He is also already committed to the warrior training," Engwe added.

"Legolas will find that his duties to this council sometimes supersede his duties to this realm's military," Thranduil countered.

"I would like to do it, my lord," Legolas interjected quietly.

Thranduil nodded in acknowledgment. "Can you suggest anyone better, Engwe?" he asked.

Engwe looked at Thranduil sidelong. "I cannot," he said crossly.

"Anyone?" Thranduil asked, looking around the table. "Does anyone object to me speaking to Berior about this?"

Galithil cast a glance at Legolas.

"May I suggest that when you speak to Berior about expanding his service to the king's council, you also discuss with him your decisions regarding Glilavan, my lord?" Legolas said quietly.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "I do need to discuss that with him, true enough," he replied. "Anything else?"

No one spoke.

"In that case, I will approach Berior this morning when we are finished," Thranduil said. Then he reached to the floor next to his chair and picked something up.

As he did, Galithil seized Legolas's right arm, to claim his attention. "Lucky!" he whispered into Legolas's ear. "If you get to go to Dale or Esgaroth, you had better argue to your adar that I get to go too."

Legolas grinned at him, nodding.

"Do not forget, Aunt Lindomiel is going to Dale next week," Galithil pressed.

"Adar is hesitant to let me out of his sight at the moment, Galithil. He is not going to let me go to Dale."

"He might. You never know unless you try."

Legolas looked at the ceiling, laughing quietly and shaking his head. When he turned his attention back to the council meeting, he froze. His father was unsheathing the third of three swords--the other two were already displayed on the table. The one in his hand was Demil's.

Dolgailon and Engwe both loosed quiet whistles, openly admiring the blades before them.

Legolas eyed them as if they were poisonous snakes.

"This is Legolas's business," Thranduil said, turning the sword and not noticing Legolas's reaction to it. "It is fine workmanship." He stood, demonstrating its balance.

Legolas pushed his chair away from the table and stood himself, gaze locked on the sword.

"To be honest, it is a much better blade than the one I was able to purchase from the dwarves for you," Thranduil continued. He swung the sword a few times.

Legolas took a step back from the table.

"It is yours if you want it," Thranduil concluded.

Everyone at the table immediately began murmuring.

Legolas's gaze moved from the sword to his father's face. "I want nothing to do with it," he replied immediately.

Thranduil's brows climbed. "Take some thought before you decide that. It, along with its mates, are quite possibly the finest quality weapons I have ever seen..."

"I care nothing for its quality. Use it yourself. Give it to Galithil, if he is willing to wield it. He is far better with a sword than I. Give it to Berior. His father's death earns him some recompense, surely. Or to Dolgailon. The Troop Commander merits a fine sword. Give it to any of the warriors in this realm. Or wiser still: sell it and see it out of this realm. It should fetch a fine price. But I do not want it," Legolas said with determination.

"Legolas, swords of this quality do not exist in this Age. No one in Middle Earth has this skill," Thranduil argued, still admiring the sword. "It was likely made in Valinor. Or, at the very least, by dwarves in Beleriand..."

"Perhaps Feanor himself forged it," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with disdain.

That made Thranduil look at him sharply.

"I will not wield a sword that was used to spill elven blood in Menegroth." Legolas continued. Then he laughed bitterly. "One that likely spilled my own adar and daeradar's blood in Menegroth and certainly spilled mine right here in this forest. No, thank you. Dispose of it as you will, but do not expect me to touch it. I deem it corrupted by ages of evil use and I want nothing to do with it."

That speech had driven Thranduil to place the sword on the table. "Well argued," he said in a much more subdued tone than he had been using to describe the sword's quality only moments before. "You are certain you do not want it and you will not change your mind?"

Legolas nodded. "It would please me best never to see it again."

"Very well," Thranduil said, looking at the rest of his council. "I have adar's sword. I do not want any other. Do any of you want it?" he asked.

Engwe immediately shook his head. So did Hallion and Golwon.

"That is whose sword, my lord?" Dolgailon asked. "Fuilin's or one of his brothers?"

"It is Demil's," Thranduil confirmed. "The other two belonged to his brothers."

Dolgailon looked at the swords longingly a moment more and then turned away from them with obvious regret.

So did Galithil.

"I want Fuilin's," Berior said, approaching the table. Legolas's reaction had drawn the attention of the scribes. "Which one is his?"

Legolas closed his eyes.

"This one, if I am not mistaken," Thranduil said quietly, nudging one of the swords closer to Berior. "You certainly have the right to take it as a weregild for your father if you would like."

"I would like," he said, picking up the sword and inspecting it. "When you took his sword, you should have killed him with it. As you did Demil," he said quietly.

Legolas turned a glare on his cousin. It was not Berior's place to question the king's decision and that was the least of the problems Legolas had with that statement.

"You killed...!" Golwon blurted loudly, cutting himself off with a glance towards the scribes' tables. "You killed Demil, Thranduil?" he continued in a much quieter voice. "I assumed one of the guards... I did not think that you, personally... Not that it would be better for one of the guards, I suppose..." He drifted to silence, staring at the king.

Engwe looked a little ill. "Please tell me that you did not execute him, Thranduil," he whispered.  

"Certainly not," Hallion said reprovingly. Then he reached for Berior and drew him to stand in front of him, with a hand gripping each of his upper arms. "Govern you tongue, Berior," he admonished, though his tone was gentle. "Demil died in battle. Defending oneself against an attack is much different from being the attacker or from killing a prisoner that is already subdued, as Fuilin and Mauril were when the king came upon them."

"Killed in battle or executed--either way, a dead enemy can no longer harm anyone else," Berior retorted. "I am glad the king killed Demil and I still think he should have done the same with Fuilin and Mauril when he had the chance, prisoners or not, before they killed more innocent people."

"You do not understand what you are saying," Hallion said. He was still holding Berior's arms and he gave him a slight shake to draw his attention. "You do not comprehend how horrible and difficult what the king has already been forced to do is. Surely you would not add to that burden?"

Berior's brow furrowed. "Why would the king execute one criminal, but not the others who are guilty of the same crime..."

"You are making assumptions," Legolas intervened. "Ones I cannot allow..."

"Legolas," Thranduil immediately cut him off. "There is no need for you to add anything to this conversation."

Legolas shook his head, gaze fixed on the table. "No, I cannot remain silent. I will not allow my own adar to take blame for my actions, especially if doing so leaves anyone with the impression that, having supposedly killed one elf, he should be expected to kill more."

Everyone turned to stare at Legolas.

"What is he saying, Thranduil?" Hallion whispered.

Legolas glanced his uncle sidelong. Hallion did not know all the details of what had happened on that plain. That truly surprised Legolas. "I killed Demil," he answered when the king remained silent. He was quite pleased with how steady his voice sounded.

"You killed him, Legolas?" Berior exclaimed. He looked as if he might have fallen over if Hallion had not still been holding on to his arms. Shock mingled with guilt in his eyes. To Legolas's horror, he also saw admiration and satisfaction in his cousin's face.

"He attacked Anastor and I when we were trying to escape from the men," he explained in response to the stares of the council. "I had no choice but to fight him. I tried to disarm him, but I did not have the skill. When Dannenion joined the fight and Demil took his arm, it was obvious...I had to...so I took the next opportunity he gave me and I killed him. My greatest regret is that I hesitated...waited too long to prevent Dannenion from being so gravely wounded, but at least none of us were killed ourselves." He turned to Berior. "So, you see I do know, beyond any doubt, that I am capable of killing an elf to defend the citizens of this realm, if need be. I trust that I have satisfied the concerns you expressed last night."

Berior's chin trembled. He clenched his jaw tightly for a moment. "Of course you have, my lord," he finally said quietly.

Legolas scowled, angry with himself. Berior was grieving. He was not the master of his own actions or words. "I apologize, Berior. I did not intend to mock you..."

"It is I that owe you an apology, my lord," Berior interrupted.

"Enough," Thranduil said, laying one hand on Berior's shoulder and the other on Legolas's. First he turned to Berior. "Go put that away," he said nodding at the sword. "I would like to speak to you after your work in the Hall is done. Please come to my office as promptly as you can." He turned Berior towards the doors and gave him a slight shove, sending him off.

Berior hurried away without daring to look back.

Then Thranduil addressed his council. "That is all for the morning. It goes without saying that nothing discussed here will be repeated. To anyone. Dismissed."

No one moved. Instead, they all, even Galithil, continued staring at Legolas.

"Dismissed," Thranduil repeated.

Even then, no one moved until Hallion finally shook himself into motion, gathering up the papers in front of him. Slowly, everyone else stood and walked away from the table in utter silence.

"I did not intend for that to happen," Thranduil said, once they were alone.

Legolas shrugged in an effort to appear more unconcerned than he felt. "It was bound to happen eventually and it is over with now. Frankly, that is a relief."

"You did not need...."

"As I said, adar, my conscience would not allow me to remain silent while you took blame for something I did," Legolas insisted.

Thranduil leaned over and kissed Legolas's forehead. "You never fail to impress me, ion nin." Then he glanced at the table, towards Demil's sword. "I should have thought more carefully about...." his voice faltered. When he continued, it was very rough and filled with grief. "I certainly should have considered how seeing it would affect you. I apologize."

Legolas resolutely stared at a space somewhere behind his father, too absorbed in his own struggles to notice anything else. He only managed to shrug again.

Normally, such a lack of response would earn at least some reprimand, but his father made no reaction. He only squeezed Legolas's shoulder. Then he gathered up the remaining swords on the table. "Would you like to join me in my office? You can help Hallion write the final orders for the queen's trip to Dale." He forced a smile as he began to leave the Hall. "And I am certain the explanation of when your cousin Berior began addressing you as his lord will be entertaining."

Legolas tried to hide a grimace. That was an explanation that he did not care to make. "I am late for training, adar," he answered, hoping that revelation would be enough to distract his father from his curiosity.

It was.

"You are returning to training today?" Thranduil asked, stopping and turning fully towards Legolas. "Did Nestoreth approve that?"

"For me to go to the classes," Legolas replied, nodding. "And perhaps archery training, she said, but no contact. I will obey her orders, adar."

"Even in the classes, you handle weapons. You may find sword work...challenging, Legolas. I could not even look at a blade for months after we fled Menegroth," Thranduil said quietly. "Given your reaction here..." he hefted the swords in his hand, "I am concerned..."

"I will be fine, adar. I do not want to miss too much."

Thranduil scanned him. "Very well," he finally said. "If you are certain." He waved his hand to give permission for Legolas to leave.

Legolas managed a smile when his father conceded so easily, and, as Thranduil turned towards the door behind the throne, another thought occurred to him. "My lord," he called, "About the queen's trip to Dale..."

Thranduil stopped and turned partially. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for Legolas to continue.

"May I go with her?" he asked, trying to sound as if what he was requesting was perfectly reasonable.

Thranduil's back stiffened and he drew himself up, frowning, but before he spoke, he checked himself. "We will discuss that suggestion with Tureden and Conuion--and the queen--later," he replied. "This evening, perhaps."

"Thank you, my lord," Legolas said, bowing to hide a smile. His mother would argue in favor of him going. And if she did, the argument was all but won. He was glad he took his cousin's advice.

*~*~*

Legolas rushed out of the Great Hall through its main doors. Tureden was waiting for him in the antechamber, chatting with Galuauth, who was guarding the door to the family chambers. His new guard took a step towards him as he emerged from the Hall.

"You are late for training," he said.

Legolas frowned. Tureden sounded stern. Chastising, really. Indeed, he addressed Legolas as if speaking to an ill-behaved child.

Legolas tried to remind himself that Tureden was accustomed to commanding the King's Guard as its First Lieutenant. He was used to giving orders and reprimands. Moreover, Legolas knew he could not expect the same easy relationship with Tureden that he had enjoyed with Tulus. He and Tulus were friends long before Tulus became his guard. Before Tureden was assigned that duty, he had spent most of his time in his office, managing the day-to-day affairs of the Guard. He and Legolas had spoken perhaps two dozen times in his entire life, most of them when Legolas had been a very young child.

Still, Tureden's demeanor during their as yet limited interactions had done nothing to endear him to Legolas. What would Tureden have preferred? That Legolas simply walk away during morning council, since it conflicted with his training schedule? The king would certainly have approved of that!

"Tulus used to get my weapons and a tunic for me when morning council ran late," he said, striding past Tureden without pause. He passed quickly through the doors to the family quarters that Galuauth held open for him.

After a moment, Tureden stalked after him. "I am neither Tulus, nor am I your servant," he responded testily when he caught up to him. "I am your guard."

Legolas fought a losing battle not to roll his eyes. In his peripheral vision, he saw Tureden frown. Legolas turned a cool look on him while pulling at the fastenings of the formal robe he had worn in his father's court with one hand and opening the door to his room with the other. "Indeed you are my guard and not my nursemaid," he finally responded. "Let me worry about being late for training if you are going to do nothing to help prevent it."

With that, Legolas stepped into his room and closed the door before Tureden could follow him in. He would be in enough trouble with the training officers for arriving late. He did not need a lecture from Tureden too. He tossed his formal robe onto the bed, pulled a tunic from his wardrobe, caught up his bow, quiver and sword and marched back out of his room, ignoring the glare Tureden aimed at him. Since Tureden could not be bothered to even offer the simple courtesy of helping him, Legolas juggled all his weapons in one hand while fastening his tunic with the other. He was adjusting his quiver straps as he jogged across the bridge over the river and had only just buckled his sword belt before entering the shack that housed the duty officer for the training program. Tureden stopped outside the door of the shack as Legolas took the four steps into the building two at a time.

"I apologize for being late, sir," he said, as he entered. Coming to stand in front of the small desk in the shack's single room, he glanced at the schedule on the slate board that hung on the wall behind it. He cursed to himself--the first class he would be in time for, and only then if he hurried, was tactics, with Langon. Langon the Dragon. Legolas quickly turned his attention to the officer sitting behind the desk.

Pathon was the duty officer today and he was looking at Legolas with a raised eyebrow, obviously awaiting an explanation.

"I was in the Great Hall. Morning council ran later than normal," Legolas said. That sort of explanation had never earned any sympathy from Glilavan, who normally was the officer everyone reported to. Legolas always could expect discipline for arriving late to training. That fact was what inspired Tulus to fetch his weapons for him.

To Legolas's astonishment, Pathon only nodded. "So I heard from Galithil. He made it here before you, though." He paused and again waited for an explanation.

"The king wanted to speak to me," Legolas said.

Pathon looked back at the papers in front of him, apparently satisfied. "You have missed the first class. Move it, so you do not miss any of the second. And be certain to speak to Hebor about what you missed in your survival skills class."

Trying not to show his surprise--there was no need to invite discipline--Legolas saluted and sprinted out of the shack.

"What sort of extra duty did your lateness earn us?" Tureden asked, taking several long strides and then breaking into a run to catch up to his charge.

Legolas shot an annoyed glance over his shoulder. "None," he answered curtly, jogging without pause across the training field. At its far side, the First and Second Years stood in two lines.

Langon stood at the head of their lines, but he had not yet begun the class. Instead, he was reading a message that one of the Troop Commander's messengers had carried to him. The messenger was just leaving the field. Legolas took some twisted satisfaction from the fact that the messenger was late too, if that message was only now arriving in Langon's hands. Dolgailon always had his correspondence ready to be delivered before morning council began. Langon tucked the message into his tunic and started to address the class.  

Legolas ran faster. Even with the distraction of the message, he would be late and that would be unpleasant.

"How good of you to join us this morning, Legolas," Langon interrupted himself to say as Legolas tried to pick up a practice sword and slide unobtrusively into the line of First Years between Anastor and Noruil, across from Galithil in the Second Year line. Langon put his hands on his hips and glared at Legolas.

"I apologize for being late, sir," Legolas repeated, intending to give him the same explanation he gave Pathon.

"Morning council, yes, I have heard. Pay attention," Langon concluded for him.

He was not too angry then. Whenever Langon answered his own questions, he did not really care about the topic very much. Langon's reaction was certainly a pleasant surprise. Tureden's, on the other hand, was not. Rather than taking a place in line with Legolas, as Colloth stood with Galithil, Tureden was shaking his head and moving off to sit under a tree at the side of the field. Legolas watched him go, wondering if he should follow him and explain what this class was about. His participation was required, after all.

While Legolas was considering what to do, Langon turned his perpetual scowl on Tureden. "Where, precisely, do you think you are going?" he called to him. Tureden did not turn around or acknowledge that question. Legolas doubted his new guard even recognized anyone was speaking to him. Langon bent down, picked up a small stone and threw it at the back of Tureden's head, hitting him squarely.

That caused Tureden to spin around and face him with a half-astonished, half-furious expression, rubbing the back of his head.

"I said, where do you think you are going?" Langon asked again.

"To sit down," Tureden answered, gesturing to the tree. He appeared ready to say more but Langon did not let him.

"You are Legolas's permanent guard now," he said. "That is what the Troop Commander reported to us." He paused for a response, even though he had not really asked a question.

Tureden just barely restrained himself from making a face. "I am."

"Then you pair with Legolas. Get in line," Langon ordered in a tone that was clearly meant to be obeyed.

Tureden only glanced at the line of First Years. "I mastered pulse drills in the First Age, right along with you, if I recall," he said. "I will be sitting under the tree." He began to turn back around.

Langon took two swift steps toward him and thrust out the wooden practice sword in his hand to block Tureden's path. "You will be partnering with Legolas for every battle you fight, for the rest of your lives, until one of you is killed. You two will, therefore, partner on this training field to learn to work together. Get in line." He shoved the practice sword into Tureden's hand.

Legolas watched along with the rest of his class as Tureden drew a breath to argue. They were all wide eyed, in part due to shock that anyone would argue with the Dragon and in part due to amusement because someone was arguing with the Dragon.

Langon cut Tureden off before he finished his breath. "Tulus did it. You will do..."

"How many people will mistake me for Tulus this morning? Do I look like Tulus?" Tureden interrupted him in turn, turning the sword and thrusting its handle back at Langon. It poked him in the ribs.

"No, you look like a greater fool than Tulus ever dreamed of being," Langon replied and now his voice was low as he stepped past the sword to speak into Tureden's face. "Tulus never argued with me on my own training field. You are arguing. So that makes you a fool. You command the King's Guard, not the Training Program. I command this exercise--Legolas and his guard are participating in it. Do you understand me, New Foolish Tulus? Now get in line."

Laughter burst out of Legolas before he could stifle it in response to the name Langon had given Tureden. Tureden and Langon's heads both spun around. Legolas clamped his mouth shut and pasted a probably stupid, vacant look on his face. It was the best he could do. The pressure of suppressed laughter made his still sore ribs ache. He pressed his hands against his sides.

Surprisingly, that seemed to satisfy Langon. He turned back to Tureden.

Clenching his jaw so tightly that Legolas could actually hear his teeth grinding, Tureden silently took up the front position in the line with Legolas, shoving him to the back one.

Langon made a tisking sound as he shook his head. "No, no, New Foolish Tulus. Take the back position. Legolas is learning to be the stronger fighter, so he will take the lead."

Without a word, face souring even more, Tureden took two steps back. Legolas had to dodge around him.

Noruil stood next to Legolas. "Looks like New Tulus is going to be even more of a pain than Old Tulus was," he whispered as Langon began to explain the first scenario.

Legolas made a choking sound, trying not to laugh again, and he studiously ignored Tureden. At least Noruil had not repeated the 'fool' part of the name.

*~*~*

"That is all for the day," Langon called. "Put those swords in the racks. Lunch before your tracking class." He turned to speak to Gornir, who had not seemed to understand the crossover defense they had practiced against the flanking force in their drill.

Legolas moved towards the rack. He was disgusted with himself. His stomach had clenched the first time he looked down his sword at the Second year opposing him in that drill, so much that he actually still felt sick and shaky. And even at half-time, he had handled his weapon as clumsily as he did when he first began training with a sword almost a dozen year ago. How would he manage his swords class? Surely, by the time Nestoreth deemed him well enough healed to participate in weapons training, he would be in better control of himself.

Before Legolas made two full strides towards the rack, a hand closed over his shoulder and it was all he could do to stop himself from jumping. He did spin around, pulling his shoulder sharply out of the grasp of.... Tureden. Tureden was looking at him, eyebrows raised.

"We are going to spar a bit before breaking for lunch," he announced.

Legolas's brow furrowed and he found himself staring at his guard mutely while shaking his head. Several of the First and Second Years who heard Tureden stopped and turned. People often liked to watch him practice, whether he was sparring or shooting on the archery range. Long ago he had grown accustomed to having an audience. Today, the idea of fighting Tureden, with or without an audience, made him want to turn and run.

Galithil came to stand next to Legolas. "I do not think that would be wise," he began.

Tureden held him at bay by pressing the point of his practice sword into his shoulder. That action made Colloth's eyebrows climb, but he remained silent.

"I think I have the right to know something about the skills of the person I have agreed to guard," Tureden protested in response to Legolas's apparent refusal. "And a half time drill showed me nothing. Or at least I hope it did not."

Legolas could not deny that Tureden did have the right to see whatever skill he had, but Legolas simply could not do it. Not today. Nor could he explain why with half the First and Second Year class surrounding him. He knew he owed Tureden a truthful explanation, but for now he tried to think of some excuse he could make.

"Legolas is not going to fight you today," Anastor said, joining them.

Tureden looked down his nose at him. "And who are you to command that?"

Galithil and Anastor both drew a breath to argue, but they were forestalled when Langon strode between them, stopping in front of Legolas. "A moment, please," he said, pointing towards the weapons shack. "Before you break for lunch."

Legolas's eyes widened as he looked from Langon to the shack. Normally, the Dragon only sent someone to that shack when he really intended to let them have it. Neither Legolas nor any of his cousins had ever earned a trip there.

"Go," Langon ordered when Legolas did not move. His hand reached out for Legolas's shoulder, obviously intending to give him a shove towards the shack. Legolas braced himself for that. His ribs were well enough healed, but the tactics drills made it plain that they were still tender. Langon's hand fell short of its target at the last moment, turning instead to again point, this time more forcefully, at the shack.

Legolas turned towards it without speaking.

Tureden did not show the same restraint that Langon had. He grabbed Legolas's upper arm. "I am sparring with Legolas now. He will speak to you when we are done."

"As Anastor and Galithil said, I am not sparring with you," Legolas said quietly. "My lieutenant wants to speak to me." He looked down at where Tureden still held his arm firmly.

"Later," Tureden insisted, not releasing him. "Langon can wait."

"No, it is you who will wait," Langon answered. He took the practice sword from Legolas and handed it to Tureden, forcing him to let go of Legolas to take it, since his right hand was already occupied by his own practice sword. "Put those away," Langon ordered. Then he walked away without a backward glance, herding Legolas in front of him.

As he marched towards the shack, Legolas heard the rest of the swords in the rack rattle when Tureden thrust his sword and Legolas's into it far more forcefully than necessary.

When they reached the shack, Langon opened the door, waited for Legolas to precede him through it and closed it behind them. Once inside, Langon withdrew a folded paper from his tunic and handed it to Legolas. "Explain this, please," was all he said.

Legolas took the paper and turned it over. It was a note, sloppily folded, sealed with Dolgailon's seal and addressed to Langon. It was the message he had been reading when Legolas arrived on the field. Legolas looked at Langon for permission to open it, which Langon gave with a single nod and an exasperated expression. Legolas unfolded the paper and read:

Legolas is not to spar with bladed weapons until I inform you differently.

It was written, obviously hurriedly, in Dolgailon's hand. Legolas blinked at that message and read it again. Dolgailon must have written it after hearing in council about Demil. Legolas was at once stunned, a little insulted that Dolgailon had not even given him a choice in this decision, and grateful that he would not have to face Tureden, or anyone else apparently, until he could better master himself. He kept his gaze on the paper, trying to decide how to explain it.

Apparently, he remained silent for too long.

Langon kicked a chair that had been shoved into one corner of the shack so that it turned around. "Sit," he ordered.

Startled, Legolas complied automatically.

Langon leaned against one of the empty practice swords racks across from the chair. "Now talk to me," he said, looking closely at Legolas.

His tone was the softest Legolas had ever heard him use. That alone was enough to force Legolas to look up at him. Langon was studying his chest. Reflexively, Legolas reached to bring the edges of his tunic together, covering the top of the scar that peeked out from underneath it. He had loosened the fastenings on his tunic while sweating through the tactics drills.

"That is from a blade, obviously," Langon observed, nodding towards the now concealed scar. "How far does it go down?"

Legolas touched a place below his ribs.

Langon's eyebrows climbed. "Deep?" he asked.

"It cut muscle shallowly for a few inches," Legolas answered quietly. "It had to be stitched the whole length."

Langon drew his breath over his teeth in response to that. "You are too skilled to have allowed a man to land such a blow. It is normal to be nervous in your first fight with something more skilled than orcs though, so I will not fault you too badly. How did he fair in the end? Not well, I assume, since you are here and no men came back to the stronghold as prisoners of the king. Did you finish him or did Tulus?"

"He is dead," Legolas answered softly. "I killed him."

Langon nodded with a pleased expression. "It is harder to kill men than it is to kill orcs," he observed.

Legolas clenched his jaw.

"If he attacked you with a sword, he intended to kill you and you had the right to defend yourself. If he attacked the king's son, he is guilty of treason to this realm and you had the responsibility to kill him. The king would have done so on the spot if you had left him alive. You did the right thing, Legolas."

Legolas nodded, debating what to say, if anything.

"I think, however, that I understand why the Troop Commander wants you to be excused from sparring for a few days. You seem every bit as disturbed by this incident as Anastor. I understand from him that he killed a man as well. You both handled yourselves very well. A credit to the training, you proved yourselves to be. We are all impressed with you both. Take a few days off from sparring, but report for the footwork drills. They will help you work through whatever discomfort you may be feeling." Langon straightened, obviously intending to dismiss Legolas.

Legolas found himself speaking before Langon could do so. "Sir, you are from Menegroth, correct?" he asked.

Langon crossed his arms across his chest and stared down at Legolas. "I am," he replied. "I was your adar's swords master and he was a much better student than you, as I have told you many times, so you know that perfectly well."

Legolas did not even notice that familiar jab. "You fought there? Defended it? Even when it fell?"

That question made Langon's back stiffen. "Yes I did," he replied, the gentle tone he had been using replaced by one even sterner than Legolas normally heard from him.

Legolas looked down at the floor. "It was not a man that gave me this wound," he confessed quietly.

Langon stood silently for a long moment. Then he dropped down, crouching next to Legolas, forcing himself into his field of vision. "Elves? The rumor that elves were involved in this is true?" he whispered.

Legolas nodded.

"You killed one of them? More than one?"

"One," Legolas answered swiftly. Let us not make this worse than it is, he thought.

Langon's next action made Legolas glad he was seated. He pulled Legolas into a tight embrace. "I cannot believe elves in this forest would fall so deeply under the influence of the Shadow that they would attack other elves. Children. You are still a child, regardless of the responsibilities you bear. I thought we escaped this here."

"It followed you," Legolas replied. "The elves that attacked me were ones my adar and daeradar fought in Menegroth."

Langon grasped Legolas's shoulders and held him at arms length. "Noldor? Who?" he demanded. "Names."

"Ulcamarto was the name of the head of house. His son's name was Oromarto. But they are dead, by my adar and daeadar's hands, apparently. It is the daughter and servants that attacked me. She is called Manadhien--I believe her name in the First Age was Manarinde. Fuilin and Mauril are the servants. They seek revenge against the king. That was why I was abducted."

Langon released Legolas and stood. "Ulcamarto. Oromarto. That sounds so familiar. I have heard those names. Where have I heard those names?" He turned and paced the short distance the shack allowed. When he turned back around and his gaze fell once again on Legolas, he shook his head. "It does not matter." He frowned, considering Legolas long enough to make him drop his gaze uncomfortably. "Thranduil knows you did this, of course?" he asked, squatting on the floor again to make Legolas look at him.

Legolas stifled a nervous laugh. It always shocked him a little when the Sindar that knew his father long before he was a king referred to him by name. "Yes, adar knows," he replied.  

"It must be killing him. I am glad Oropher is not here to see it. It would certainly kill him. They brought us all here to escape such evil. That you were forced to experience it...." Langon sighed and shook his head. Then he grasped Legolas's chin to force him to look at him. "You did the right thing, Legolas. Do not doubt it for a moment. Any elf that would attack another elf is deeply shadowed."

"I feel shadowed myself, having done it," Legolas whispered.

"You are," Langon said. "You have done an evil thing, even if it was unavoidable. You cannot avoid the effects of that deed any more than you could avoid the deed itself. What you can control is your response to the shadow that is now threatening you. You can submit to it or you can drive it away. Do not submit to it, Legolas, not even in the smallest part. Drive it away."

"How?"

Langon's fingers tightened around his chin. "First, by choosing to do so. By being determined to do so. And then by finding people or things or activities that bring you joy. Focus on joyful things, not the shadow, and it will fade. That is why you will not return to sparring until you are completely ready. Until you can lift a sword without grief. Do you understand me? Do not force yourself. Be patient with yourself. And allow those that can to help you."

Legolas looked at Langon for a long moment. Those that can. "I feel sick...constantly sick," he confessed softly. "Every time I think of it...whenever anything reminds me...and almost everything does...all I can see is blood. Demil's blood. Please tell me that will eventually stop."

Langon embraced him again. "It will. Not soon enough to suit you, but it will. Sooner, if you heed my advice and find something to bring you joy." He released Legolas and sat back on his heels in front of him. "You have lost weight. You are not eating."

Those were not questions, but Legolas nodded anyway.

"Eat," Langon commanded. "You will feel better sooner if you force yourself to eat. Are you sleeping?"

"No," Legolas answered. "I see...it. In my dreams."

"Talk to Nestoreth and ask her for something to make you sleep then. Without dreams. You need rest to recover from this. I mean it, Legolas. I do not want to see you collapse on my training field."

Legolas nodded automatically. "Yes, sir." He paused, seeing the concern in Langon's eyes. Somehow, it did not embarrass him. It was understanding, not pity. "Thank you, sir," he added quietly.

Langon patted him on the shoulder and stood, gesturing for Legolas to do the same. As soon as Legolas did, Langon kicked the chair again, sending it scooting across the wooden floor to its corner. "Dismissed," he said, opening the door to the shack. "You are not ready to return to training. I do not want to see you back on this field today. Go spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying the forest. It is a beautiful day. Take advantage of the joy you can find in it."

Legolas blinked at that pronouncement and automatically began to protest it. But before he did, he stopped himself and smiled at Langon instead. "Thank you, sir," he repeated.

Langon nodded tersely and shooed him through the door.

*~*~*

Legolas trotted away from the training fields, ignoring Tureden's stunned expression at Langon's unexpected dismissal and his insistence that they should spar. He focused on trying to imagine what he might do. He could not remember the last time he had time completely free of responsibility. Pity that Langon did not release his cousins from training as well, so that Legolas had someone to spend it with. No matter. A soak in one of the springs would be a soothing way to pass the afternoon. He glanced in the direction of the river. It was a warm day and a good number of people were already gathered around the pools.

"Not in the mood for answering more questions," he said to himself, detouring upstream to where he and his cousins often crossed the river on rocks. On the stronghold's side of the river, there was a spring that his parents frequented. It was considerably more private since, strictly speaking, no one but warriors were allowed on the mountain that housed the stronghold. He and his cousins occasionally bathed in that spring with their friends. It would be the perfect place to relax.

"Where are you going?" Tureden's voice rang out in his ear when Legolas approached the river and made to jump onto the first stone to cross it.

"Legolas!" another voice, a feminine voice, called at the same time. "Wait for me!"

Legolas turned. Tureden did also. It was Aewen. She was running towards them, her skirt and hair flying out behind her. "Are you going to the spring beside the mountain?" she asked as she got closer.

"You certainly are not," Tureden answered, speaking in a low voice to Legolas.

Legolas glanced at him, frowning. "Yes," he called to Aewen.

"Only warriors are allowed on the mountain," Tureden reminded him.

"Adar and nana bathe in that spring all the time. So do my friends and I," Legolas answered back.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Aewen asked, coming up along side him. She grasped his hand with both of hers.

Legolas's brows rose involuntarily. "Of course you can come," he answered. Then he jumped onto the first rock and held her hand as she leapt onto it as well.

"Legolas!" Tureden said sternly.

Aewen turned to him and then looked back at Legolas questioningly.

"Aewen, do you know Tureden? He is my guard now," Legolas said, jumping to the next stone and helping her over to it.

Her eyes flew open. "Tulus was not...." she could not seem to make herself finish that question.

It took Legolas a moment to grasp what she meant to ask. When he did, he quickly shook his head. "No! Tulus was reassigned. That is all." Aewen loosed a quiet breath as Legolas helped her onto the third rock. They were now half way across the river. "Tureden, have you met Dollion's daughter Aewen before?" Legolas asked, in an effort to be polite and finish introducing them.

"I have not. The Captain of the Palace Guard's daughter ought to know better than to climb around on the mountain, however," he said. He had still not made any move to follow them across the river.

Aewen froze and looked at Legolas with wide eyes. "I thought we were allowed as long as we were with you or Galithil or Berior," she said.

Legolas tugged at her hand, pulling her to the next rock. "You are. We are," he assured her. When she looked down to measure the next jump--it was the longest--Legolas cast Tureden a scathing look.

Tureden put his hands on his hips and returned it.

Legolas jumped onto the far bank of the river. When Aewen reached his side, she still did not drop his hand. Legolas studied her a moment. This was the second day that she had practically clung to him, but he knew that one of the First Year warriors in the Palace Guard was currently courting her. He could not imagine what she meant by clinging to his hand.

Color rose on her cheeks. "Do you want to go to the spring?" she asked softly, gesturing towards it with her free hand.

He nodded.

"Legolas!" Tureden called. Now he sounded openly angry.

"Coming, Tureden?" Legolas asked, turning his back on him. As they walked away, he heard Tureden grumbling as he leapt from stone to stone.

Legolas and Aewen hurried to the spring. No one was there, as Legolas had expected.

"Will you help?" Aewen asked, turning her back to Legolas and moving her hair to one side to expose the ribbon that laced her gown.

Legolas nodded and slipped the bow. Then he tugged at the edges of the gown to loosen the lacing further. By the time Tureden emerged into the clearing around the spring, Legolas was tugging the ribbon free.

"What in all of Arda are you doing!" Tureden exclaimed, storming towards them the moment he saw the ribbon in Legolas's hand.

Aewen gasped and jumped, turning to face him with wide eyes, one arm holding up the neckline of her gown, the other still holding her hair aside.

Legolas turned a furious look on his guard. "I am helping Aewen with the lacing of her gown. We are going to bathe in the spring." He pointed to it.

"Unclothed?" Tureden asked.

Aewen turned scarlet in response to that question and Legolas felt heat rising on his cheeks as well. "Do you bathe or swim in the pools in your tunic and boots, Tureden? Have you ever seen any of the ellyth do so in their gowns?" Tureden said nothing to that. He only glowered at Legolas. Legolas turned back to Aewen. "Sorry," he whispered. "Do you want me to tie your hair up?" he asked, waving the ribbon he had pulled from her dress. Aewen nodded and turned her back to him again. She twisted her hair into a single pony tail that she then doubled over several times. As she held it in place, Legolas bound it up off her shoulders with the ribbon.

When he was finished, she looked over her shoulder at him. "Thank you," she said. Her voice was still very subdued and she glanced at Tureden as she spoke.

"Of course," Legolas replied.

"Make him go into the trees," Aewen whispered. Then she walked over to the bushes where the ellyth normally wrung out their shifts after swimming.

Legolas watched her disappear behind them with a sigh. She never bothered to hide back there just to slip out of her gown. He turned and walked over to stand toe to toe with Tureden. "Go into the trees, remain silent and leave us be," he said in a low voice.

Tureden's jaw fell open. "I beg your pardon..." he began.

Legolas was not having it. "I said, go into the trees, remain silent and leave us be. You are embarrassing Aewen and being intrusive. I will not tolerate you treating her in this manner. Unless you see some threat--which I trust you will not, given that we are standing on the mountain that houses the stronghold--I do not want to hear a sound from you."

Tureden loosed an astonished puff of air, but Legolas ignored it. He walked back to the spring, unfastening his tunic as he did. He pulled it and his undershirt off and draped them over one of the rocks near the spring. Then he leaned against the same rock to pull off his boots. After they joined his shirt and tunic, Legolas slipped into the warm water of the spring. It felt wonderful! He closed his eyes and sank in all the way up to his chin.

In the periphery of his senses, Legolas heard Aewen enter the spring and swim over to him. He did not open his eyes. The water simply felt too good. So Aewen sought his attention by splashing him full in the face. Legolas laughed, wiping water from his eyes. Once he could open them again, he drew his arm back, threatening to splash her back. She giggled and back peddled quickly. He would not do it. He knew she hated to get her hair wet in the spring. She said the spring water made it feel stiff. But he took several steps pursuing her, causing her to giggle even harder. She dove for his hand and he let her capture it, thinking that would end the game. Instead she placed her other hand on his chest and hooked a leg behind his. Then she pushed him over backwards, shoving him under the water. He resurfaced quickly, spluttering and laughing. "You are a menace, Aewen! Do you want to drown me!" he laughed, again wiping water out of his eyes. This time it streamed from his hair and he pushed it off his face. It took him a minute to realize Aewen was no longer laughing. Her gaze was fixed on his chest. Legolas sobered as she raised her eyes to his face.

"Legolas, what happened?" she asked in a whisper. She took a step towards him, reaching with one hand until it hovered over the scar on his chest.

"Anastor and I did not simply walk away from the people that captured us, Aewen," he answered her in as gentle a voice as he could. "We had to fight."

She let her hand fall onto the scar, tracing its length lightly with one finger. Her eyes held horror.

"It is nothing, Aewen. It looks much worse than it was," he assured her stoutly. Honestly, at the moment, with her hand on his chest, he could almost completely forget that wound and everything involved with it.

She floated a little closer to him to look at the scar. The skirt of her shift caressed his legs. "This was stitched, Legolas," she said, now running her finger along the slight indentations the stitches had made. "That was a lot of stitches. I have seen my adar getting wounds stitched. I know it hurts. This wound was obviously very painful. It was not 'nothing.'"

Legolas drew a deep breath. Once Aewen stopped speaking, she left her hand on his chest. She was standing inches from him. He would not even have to lean forward to.... He banished that thought. That First Year warrior was courting her he reminded himself firmly. He shrugged, taking a step back under the pretense of sitting on the ledge in the spring. "It was not pleasant," he admitted. "But it was not a serious wound at all. And it is completely healed now."

Much to his dismay, Aewen followed him to the ledge, standing in front of him. Standing so close to him still that he could feel the warmth of her body even in the warm water. "Legolas, it is serious and we both know it. Terrible. I cannot believe elves did this." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Everyone loves you." He felt her tense and she pulled away enough to look at him. "Loves you both, I mean. You and the king."

Legolas could not reply to that. She was so warm and soft in his arms. He could not take his eyes off her lips. They were so close. His heart began to race when he saw she was also looking at his lips. Surely she did not want... She had made it clear many years ago that she did not want...

From the trees above them, Tureden made a loud, disapproving noise.

Aewen loosed a little gasp and pulled away from Legolas, glancing upwards while sinking to her chin into the water. Legolas clenched his fists at his sides. He might murder Tureden. The moment that thought entered his mind, he flinched. Then he looked at Aewen. Her cheeks were flushed and he imagined his own were as well. She floated to the opposite side of the pool. No, he really might murder Tureden.

*~*~*

Legolas shrugged his shoulders as he walked towards the doors of the family quarters, trying to settle his quiver straps more comfortably across his ribs. Thanks to Tureden's contributions, his afternoon with Aewen had been uncomfortable and in the end, cut short when she decided to return home much earlier than Legolas thought she had truly wanted to. He resolutely put that out of his mind. At the moment, he was going to participate in the games at the Oak with his cousins. Galithil had argued, convincingly, that there, people would be much more interested in wagering on his speed shooting than talking about anything that had happened.

"Enjoy yourselves, my lords," Lanthir said as he held open the doors the family chambers for Legolas and Galithil.

They thanked him and Legolas grinned at the wink Lanthir aimed at him. The guard had won several coins the last time Legolas gamed at the Oak.

"So how long are you barred from training. And how long after that will you be restricted to footwork drills?" Galithil asked him as they walked. He sounded horrified.

Legolas laughed out loud. Under normal circumstances, he would have thought no training and then footwork drills were a terrible sentence as well. "Until Langon is convinced I should be allowed to spar, I think," he replied. "He did not intend it as a punishment though. He is trying to be helpful." He lowered his voice. "Demil. He knows."

Galithil shot a sidelong look at him. They still had not had a private moment to talk about that. Legolas knew Galithil wanted to quiz him about it. He also knew that his cousin would never do it unless invited to.

Tureden and Colloth arose from the bench outside the doors to the Hall, where they had been waiting for Legolas and Galithil. Colloth appeared annoyed.

Galithil studied his guard with a frown, while replying to Legolas's comment about Langon. "If you want to try to convince yourself that the Dragon is trying to be helpful, feel free to do so, but do not tell anyone else that, lest they tell Nestoreth that those men and elves did something to your head."

Legolas smirked at his cousin. "The Dragon hugged me, Galithil. Twice."

Galithil turned an incredulous expression on Legolas and was still groaning in disgust when Tureden and Colloth reached them.

Colloth immediately signaled for Galithil to follow him. Galithil did, and as they walked away, Colloth fixed Legolas with a serious expression. It almost appeared to be a warning.

Legolas looked at him with a raised eyebrow. His eyebrow climbed even higher when Tureden blocked his path to follow them.

"May I ask why you feel the need to be armed on the Green?" Tureden asked, nodding towards Legolas's bow and quiver.

Galithil looked back at Legolas, ready to stop and help his cousin explain. Colloth put one hand on Galithil's shoulder, pushing him towards the Gates, but Galithil resisted. Legolas shook his head and gestured for him to go on. Perhaps it was time for him to have a few words with his new guard, but this conversation would be best conducted in private.

"Let us go into the Hall to speak, Tureden," Legolas said, stepping towards the doors.

"The king is meeting with Hallion in the Hall. They asked not to be disturbed," Tureden answered, unmoving. "I repeat: why do you feel the need to go onto the Green armed?"

"I am not going to the Green armed," Legolas replied, keeping his voice even. "I am going to participate in some archery contests."

"Archery contests? At the Oak? There is no possibility that I am going with you to the Oak. Your adar does not approve of the activities there and I will not stand idly by while you disobey him. He would be furious with us both."

Legolas glanced behind Tureden at the Gate Guards and to his right at Lanthir. Then he took a step closer to his guard, speaking so low that only he could hear him. "Tureden, I think we should have a conversation about the way you are speaking to me."

Tureden's expression changed from stubbornness to scorn. He grasped Legolas's arm and spun him around. "By all means, we should have a conversation. We will go to my office and talk there. You need to understand what I expect of you."

Legolas tensed involuntarily in response to that rough handling. "Release me at once," he ordered, and he could not refrain from pulling from his guard's grasp when Tureden failed to do so. He took a step away from him and only with effort did not drop into a fighting stance seeing Tureden's antagonistic expression. "The only conversation we are having," he said, voice now cold, "centers around the fact that you will not issue orders to me. Or take this tone with me...."

"Tone?" Tureden exclaimed. "Legolas, you will not speak to me about my tone. You are a child. A child that I am responsible for and one that has astonished me at every turn today--late for training without the slightest remorse, refusing my repeated and perfectly reasonable requests to learn something about how you handle your weapons, ignoring the king's own laws by climbing around on the mountain, and behaving in nothing short of a scandalous manner with Aewen. Now you think you are going to participate in that debauchery at the Oak? Your adar would be horrified. As I said, you need a better understanding of what I expect of you, but if you are not willing to come speak to me in my office now, we can speak to the king in his office in the morning."

Legolas made an effort to unclench his fists. "Speaking with adar, and Conuion, in the morning is a very good idea, Tureden. Meanwhile, I am going to the Oak and there is no reason why I should not. Adar knows perfectly well that Galithil and I intended to game tonight..."

"That is a lie, Legolas," Tureden said. "Thranduil would cut the Oak down if..."

Legolas's jaw dropped. "You are actually accusing me of lying!"

"You cannot expect me to believe that Thranduil permits you to game at the Oak..."

"He certainly does..."

"I do not believe that..."

Legolas shook his head. "I am not listening to this," he declared and moved to step around Tureden.

Tureden blocked his path again. "You are also not going to the Oak and that is final."

"You are refusing to do your assigned duty? You will not accompany me this evening?"

Tureden calmly shook his head. "I will not escort you to the Oak, no."

"Then we will have a very interesting conversation with the king and your captain tomorrow. Be in the king's office for it at sunrise," Legolas ordered. Without waiting for Tureden's response, he turned and walked to the door to the family quarters, intending to leave a note for his father and Hallion to inform them of the meeting he had requested. Then he intended to go to the Oak.

Tureden followed him.

Lanthir, who had been staring resolutely straight forward, opened the door and stood aside for Legolas to pass through it.

"He does not come back through that door tonight. Understood?" Tureden ordered, speaking to Lanthir.

Legolas turned on his heel and stared at Tureden.

Lanthir looked doubtfully at his lieutenant before shifting his gaze to Legolas.

"You cannot be serious," Legolas said.

"I am retiring for the evening," Tureden responded, "in order to be in the king's office at sunrise. You are not permitted outside the stronghold without me, so there is no need for you to come back through that door. More to the point, since I do not trust you to stay put, I am assuring that you cannot go to the Oak after I turn my back."

Legolas glanced at Lanthir. He was now looking at his boots. The Gate Guards were staring at Tureden with open shock. Legolas stood silently, uncertain how to respond to such an outrageous statement. Tureden had no right to imprison him. None at all. Of that, Legolas was certain. But what right Legolas had to contradict Tureden's orders to his subordinates, he was much less certain of. And how he would enforce any command he issued, given that it would clearly have to be enforced, he had no idea. Best to let the king and Conuion, who unquestioningly had the authority to manage this, do so in the morning. But he would not leave Tureden wholly unanswered.

"I am appalled at the way you are speaking to me, Tureden," he said, keeping his voice carefully even and quiet. "And I will not tolerate the accusations you have made against my honesty. But I also will not address this in the presence of your subordinates. We will speak to the king and Conuion in the morning."

Without giving Tureden the opportunity to make this situation worse, Legolas turned his back on him and walked through the open door. Lanthir closed it behind him quietly.

A trapped feeling immediately descended on Legolas.

Ignoring it, he stalked straight down the corridor to his father's office, opened the door and went over to the desk. There, he uncapped the ink and picked up his father's quill.  He quickly scratched out a note for Hallion, telling him that he had asked Tureden to meet with the king before morning council. He would tell his father in person what this was about when he returned to the family quarters.

When he finished writing the note, he left his father's office and stood outside it, at a loss for anything to do. He had spent a good part of the last week imprisoned in the stronghold by his injuries and by the desire to hide from the interrogations that would ensue if he went out. There was absolutely no work for him to do. He had done it all. He had not had lessons for over a week, so he had no studying to do. He could paint, he supposed. He took a few steps towards his room, then he stopped in front of the doors to the sitting room. He was hardly in a creative mood.

He was furious.

No one had ever dared to call him a liar. Or to publicly declare their lack of trust in him. And he was two years old the last time any one had spoken to him in such a condescending manner. He did not want to paint. He did not even want to dance or sing on the Green at this point. He wanted to slaughter an archery target. And that was exactly what he should be doing.

He looked into the family sitting room at the wine flagon on the table. It was nearly empty, but there might be one full glass left. He stalked to the table. If there was not a full glass, he could not even to go to the lower halls to fetch more. Legolas snatched up the flagon and a goblet and poured, snorting in disbelief at Tureden's attitude. Then he drained the goblet.

He could not stay locked up. He would go insane.

Staring at the empty flagon, he considered simply walking out the doors of the family quarters. What would Lanthir do? He would not truly stop him. Tureden did not have the right to imprison him and Lanthir knew that. Legolas sighed. But Lanthir could not disobey his lieutenant's orders either. Legolas could not put Lanthir in a position where he was forced to choose between who to obey. He liked Lanthir. Pity adar thought him too inexperienced to be his guard. Besides, even if Lanthir was perfectly pleased to let Legolas out of the family quarters, if he tried to walk out of the stronghold without a guard, the Gate Guards would stop him. They would stop Dolgailon or the queen if they tried the same thing. Those were the king's own orders. Everyone in the family was to be escorted by a guard. And Legolas could not really ask another guard to take him where their First Lieutenant publicly refused to take him. Tureden had him completely trapped.

He slammed the goblet down on the table and stalked into the corridor, looking to his left. No light came from under the doors of either Engwe or Golwon's suites. He looked right. No light came from either his parent's suite, Dolgailon's suite or the king's office. No one was in the family quarters. They were all on the Green, undoubtedly.

His shoulders slumped and he walked back into the sitting room to collapse into a chair near the fireplace.

He could try climbing over the wall in the queen's garden and down the side of the mountain. He and Galithil had used that escape many times as children to sneak out of the stronghold at night. He sat forward, considering it. His ribs throbbed with a dull ache from the pressure of his poor posture. He would break his neck trying to make the leap to the trees to climb down, as sore as his ribs were. He flopped back into the chair.

His gaze fell on the large cupboard on the side wall of the room. And the tapestry behind it. And the secret door behind it.

He could go out that door.

Legolas stared at the cupboard. The door behind it led to the back side of the stronghold. He could go out it, cross the river and be hidden under the canopy of the Oak before anyone saw him.

The problem was, once there, Colloth would see him and he would know Legolas was not permitted outside without a guard. Indeed, given his expression as he escorted Galithil out, he knew what Tureden's orders were. They had obviously been discussing it.

And Colloth had not seemed to approve.

Still, he was one of Tureden's subordinates too.

Legolas stood. He did not care. He walked over to the cupboard, squeezed into the narrow space between it and the wall and laid his hand on the wall. The secret door cracked open. Legolas gave it a shove, opening it fully.

Colloth could try to drag him back into the stronghold if he wanted, and see how far he would get with that endeavor.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum
Daeradar -- Grandfather
ion nin -- my son

It is useless to meet revenge with revenge: it will heal nothing.
Frodo, Return of the King

Chapter 3: Of pain

The elf shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position on his high branch. He might be in for a long watch. It would happen tonight. That much information he had. But he did not have a precise hour, so he would have to sit and wait.

His eyes passed idly over the trees, leaves red and yellow and orange, and then turned to the moonless sky. Clouds covered the stars. That was good. Deep shadows were much more suitable for the work he had to do tonight. Of course, it would be unpleasant if he had to sit here through a cold rain.

Merrymaking was still in full swing in the clearing south of him, south of this little hill these elves called a mountain. He could hear flutes, singing voices, and hands clapping in rhythm to the music. From a slightly different direction came the sounds of arrows biting into targets and the cheers of the victorious.

It would not happen while these crowds were still gathered. It would require secrecy. So it would be later. Probably when it was raining, he thought, crossing his arms over his chest and hunkering down against the trunk of his tree.

He had chosen his place well.

Within a few moments, a pair of guards passed by, closer to the merrymakers than they were to him. They carefully peered down the paths they intersected, searched the trees from root to crown, but he was outside their range. That he knew well. He was well informed of the patterns of the city's patrols. They passed by, unseeing, and he remained in place, still waiting.

Hoo-hooo! Hoo-hooo! An owl, a large one from the sound of him, made him jump slightly. He glanced back at it, just in case. He thought he knew all the calls the guards used, but better to be sure this was not a new one.

His eyes widened and he froze against the trunk.

"Bother you, you cursed owl. Be off with you! I am in no mood for you tonight!"

The spy watched as the owl hopped from branch to branch, pestering an elf as he hurried along the foot of the mountain. The bird was so bold as to dive upon him, grasping at the fletchings of the arrows in his quiver.

"Off with you or I swear I will repair those arrows with your own feathers, old fool."

The owl was not deterred. It followed the elf until he disappeared from sight amongst the thick cover.

The spy watched silently until the elf reappeared in the clearing amongst the merrymakers, heading straight for the contests. Then he made a call--two croaks of a bullfrog. The answering call came from the trees nearer the clearing, so the spy relaxed slightly and looked a little more closely at the brush around him.

"Now where did he come from?" he whispered to himself.

Determining that could prove to be a very valuable pursuit to pass the time while he waited.

*~*~*

"Maintaining inventories of all manner of supplies--raw materials, finished materials, weapons, armor, foodstuffs, clothing for the household and warriors, utensils, horses and, of course, coin--everything the stronghold provides or distributes--that would be your responsibility. As items are withdrawn from inventory, that would be reported to you. You ensure no single item is depleted. With Golwon, you determine what items and in what quantities the stronghold adds into inventory from the villages."

"And together, you and I decide what items we must purchase or trade for with the Men," Lindomiel added.

Thranduil listened as Hallion and Lindomiel summarized the duties they were asking Berior to take on. He willed them to be succinct. It was late and had been another long day in a series of them. Thranduil regretted that his other business of the day had kept him from speaking with Berior sooner, but, this should be a fairly brief conversation. He was looking forward to a relaxing glass of wine when this meeting concluded and he knew Berior was anxious to join his cousins on the Green. Moments before, they had heard Legolas's voice in the antechamber. Thranduil could not make out what his son was saying, but he took his apparent excitement--Legolas would have to be very animated to make that much noise when it was obvious work was still proceeding in the Hall--as a good sign. Perhaps Thranduil would go to the Green himself this evening. It would do him good to see his son managing to take part in the merrymaking.

"Are you willing to take up your adar's responsibilities as we have discussed them, Berior?" Thranduil asked when Hallion and Lindomiel stopped speaking.

"I am, my lord. Thank you. I will not disappoint you," Berior responded. "Or adar," he added in a quieter voice.

"I do not doubt that, Berior. You may start tomorrow." He turned to Hallion. "Be sure to inform Isteth that she will be losing Berior's services as a scribe."

Hallion nodded, making a note to do so.

"I will expect you in morning council every day. In council, you will brief me on any matters related to finances or trade that I might need to know and be prepared for Golwon or Dolgailon to have questions regarding supplies. They almost always do. Your adar brought his ledger with him every morning to aid in that. After council, while I am hearing petitions, you should expect to meet with the queen, Golwon or Dolgailon," Thranduil continued, "Tomorrow, you can start by meeting Lindomiel in her office and she can introduce you to the household accounts and review the purchases she is about to make in Dale." He glanced at Lindomiel. "We need to speak about your trip. And who will be accompanying you. We need to have that conversation tonight." Then he turned back to Berior, who was frowning slightly. "Until you are more familiar with these duties, and until you come of age, I want you to work closely with your aunt. Once you you have a better idea what is involved, you will be able to plan more on your own and take charge of your own reports, but until then, pay attention and learn."

Head bowed, Berior avoided the queen's gaze. "Yes, my lord," he said quietly.

Thranduil frowned and looked at Lindomiel.

She shook her head once.

Hmm. They would discuss that--whatever it was--later too, Thranduil thought. But for now there was another topic he wished to address. Legolas had suggested that he speak to Berior about Glilavan. After Berior's behavior when he claimed Fuilin's sword, Thranduil thought he had a good idea why Legolas made that suggestion. "Berior, I will warn you of this, in private and only once: when you sit at my council table, I expect you to express your opinions on any matter we discuss, whether it pertains to this realm's finances or not. You are invited to disagree with me or anyone else on the council. As vociferously as you please. But, once I announce my decision on a topic, the discussion ends. From that point on, you support that decision whether you agree with it or not. Understood?"

Berior's posture stiffened and he could not meet the king's gaze. "Yes, my lord. I do understand that."

"In that case, I would like to discuss Fuilin and Mauril..."

Berior winced. "My lord, I apologize," he interrupted. "It is just that...well, I suppose I made clear my opinion of the best way to manage them, but I do regret...I am very angry about adar and what this has done to nana, but I know that is no excuse...I understand that I should not have spoken in the Hall as I did and I certainly should not have said what I did to Legolas...much less where I said it..." He trailed off. "I apologize and I give you my word it will not happen again."

"Be careful giving your word, Berior. It is likely to happen again," Thranduil said and he smiled when Berior drew a sharp breath to protest. "It does happen in my council that certain topics are so...volatile that some people want to continue debating them after the discussion has been ended. But I would caution you against being too much like your Uncle Engwe. Your adar had a much softer style that, in the end, won him more ground because everyone enjoyed working with him. I recommend emulating him in that regard."

Berior returned Thranduil's smile sheepishly in response to being likened to Engwe.

"And if Hallion, or I, say it must end, then that is truly the end of it. No matter how angry you are, you must control yourself at that point. Understood?"

Berior nodded. "I do apologize, my lord," he repeated, and then he added,  "I will do so in front of the council tomorrow, if you wish." Berior's brows drew together and he looked down again, continuing before Thranduil could respond. "But I honestly do not know how I will make amends for what I said to Legolas." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Or, more to the point, where I said it."

That made Thranduil look more closely at Berior. "As for the council," he began, "you need not say anything. I have not passed sentence on Fuilin or Mauril yet, so you and everyone else is free to speak on that topic as you will. You must remember, however, that most of the members of my council were victims of two kinslayings. It is very likely that you will speak alone in favor of their execution."

Thranduil intended to say more--to ask what Berior had meant about what he said to Legolas--but Berior interrupted him.

"My family--my adar," he said in clipped tones, "is also the victim of a kinslaying. That is why I speak in favor of executing them. To prevent more kinslayings. I am perfectly aware that I am asking you to take the life of an elf, my lord. Or volunteering to do it myself, in your stead."

Thranduil's eyes flew open wide.

That reaction did not slow Berior down. He was heating up to the argument again, so he kept speaking, voice rising. "But I think to do so is necessary to prevent still more kinslayings--to keep Fuilin and Mauril from killing more elves. And, while I recognize it is difficult...a weighty decision...I do think it is a lawful act. I looked it up. In the law books from Menegroth. The Doom of the North said the Noldor were punished for unrighteously spilling the blood of their kin. That implies there may be a reason that could be justified--for example, protecting others..."

Thranduil laid a hand over Berior's to cut off his defense. "Berior, at the risk of worrying others, allow me to put your mind at ease: when I recapture Fuilin and Mauril, I intend to execute them." From the corner of his eyes, he saw Lindomiel's mouth open slightly before she closed it promptly. Hallion turned his face away from the table. Apparently, he feared being able to control his reaction. "I am doing that because, as you say, there is no safe way that I can ensure they hurt no one else. I cannot exile them or imprison them..."

Berior leaned forward. "Then why will you not do the same with Glilavan? If he is sent to Mandos..."

"Because I can send him to Manwe, rather than Namo," Thranduil interrupted, speaking firmly. "I have that option with him. I do not have it with Fuilin and Mauril. They have told me, and I believe them, that they were barred from taking ship at the end of the War of Wrath for the evils they committed and refused to repent. Glilavan suffers no such ban..."

"But what if he escapes? What if, just as he helped free Fuilin and Mauril, killing my adar in the process, they help free him and kill someone else in the process? How many people must die for this?"

"We have anticipated that, obviously, Berior. We are sending him in the middle of the night to ensure as few people as possible witness his departure. We will not be following an established path to escort him from the forest. Only I and his escort know if he will be taken to Belfalast or the Grey Havens. He will be heavily guarded..."

"It is not hard to guess, since you sent nana, this morning, to the Havens, that you are taking Glilavan to Belfalast tonight. If I were one of Manadhien's servants, I would guess if one person set out west today, the other person would set out south soon. Tonight, tomorrow. I would be watching. And I spoke with Conuion. He told me that adar was sent with two guards. No sign of what happened to them has been found, but we all know they were killed. If I were hiding in ambush, I could shoot two or three elves before they could return my attack. Manadhien has at least four servants. That is a dozen guards needed to defend against attack. You could not possibly be sending dozen guards with one person. That is a quarter of a patrol. There are not that many people to send. This could not be safe."

"Berior," Thranduil said quietly, "this decision has been made."

Berior held Thranduil's gaze, mouth pressed closed, jaw tight. He nodded once, but defiance and anger still burned in his eyes.

Thranduil smiled sadly at him. "You are one of the injured parties, Berior," he said after a long moment. "I prefer for my judgments to satisfy those who they serve. Is there anything I can say to reconcile you to the decision I have made regarding Glilavan?" he asked.

Berior frowned. "I do not think so, my lord. I do not agree with it. I think it is a dangerous one. And an illogical one, because I see no point in recognizing Fuilin and Mauril are too dangerous to leave alive, but arguing Glilavan should be spared. But you have my word that I will respect your decision. And publicly support it." He looked down. "I will try not to privately argue with you about it for the remainder of the night until it is too late to stop it."

That last statement might have made Thranduil laugh, had Berior not been so deadly earnest. "You truly cannot understand why I would want to avoid killing Glilavan if I can? Your adar wanted the same--to spare Fuilin and Mauril. Think on that."

"So Legolas told me," Berior said. "He told me that adar believed that his choice...his death preserved his fea." He shook his head, snorting bitterly. "I am sorry, uncle, it may be that my adar's choice was very noble and even virtuous from one perspective, but from mine, it deprived me of my adar while I am still a child, and my naneth of her husband, in order to save the life of two murderers. To be perfectly honest, I am furious--absolutely furious--with the choice my adar made. If I could speak to him right now--if I only had a moment to say one last thing to him, I would probably waste it yelling at him for making such a stupid choice."

Thranduil leaned back in his chair, studying Berior's tense posture. He expected Lindomiel would say something to try to comfort the child, but she only looked at him sadly.

His own thoughts swirled so that he doubted he could offer comfort to anyone else.

Legolas--his own son, his child--had been forced to kill Demil. Thranduil had learned that this feud was caused by the kinslayings he, himself, participated in. Most difficult of all, he had spent the last week contemplating how he could bring himself execute five elves.

The last time Thranduil dreamt of Menegroth--dreamt of the bodies littering the halls of Menegroth--had been after the first battle in the war in Mordor. For the last few days, he had been dreaming about Menegroth again--about the fighting itself. He understood his Uncle Celonhael's preference to avoid executing these elves. Yes, he did.

He forced himself not to slip too far back into the past. Instead he focused on Berior, who was still glaring at him, awaiting a response. He was struggling to bring his expression under control, expecting a reprimand. The child did not need a reprimand. Maybe he did not need comforting. Maybe he needed understanding. Thranduil reached for Berior's hand and grasped it.

"Berior, your adar, my uncle--well, you know we are cousins, but he was so much older than I, that I always called him uncle, just as you call me that--he...was less like an uncle and more like a second father to me. I would like to tell you a story. One your adar would disapprove of, in the strongest of terms, but I think it might give you some insight into his decisions. For love I bear for him, I think it is my duty to help you to understand and respect his decisions. His choice. Will you hear my story?"

Berior nodded stiffly.

Thranduil released his grip on Berior's hand and patted it once as he turned to Hallion. "You may find this difficult to hear," he said quietly. "Leave whenever you wish." Then he looked at Lindomiel. "I would much prefer for you to leave right now, but I am not foolish enough to try to command it."

That caused both Lindomiel and Berior's brows to rise. Hallion appeared to brace himself. He knew what Thranduil intended to relate.

Thranduil turned back to Berior. "When Caranthir, Curufin and Celegorm attacked Menegroth," he began.

Lindomiel and Berior both looked sharply at Thranduil. He never spoke of the attacks on Menegroth. Even when asked to, he refused. So he knew he was shocking his family now.

"It was during a festival. The guard was minimal and everyone was in the Great Hall feasting. Almost no one was armed. My adar and uncles retreated with the king and the other warriors from the Hall to retrieve their weapons, and adar sent me with naneth, ostensibly to protect her, but I knew he did not want me in the fighting. I was not of age. I was your age, in fact. At any rate, Celegorm held the main gates. There was no escape from the caves that way, and we were not sure how large a force they had in the forest, so adar told me to take naneth to go hide in our rooms, since they were out of the way of anything that the Noldor should have wanted. I was to bar the door and stay there until he came for us. So, that is what I did.

"Nana, all four of her remaining brothers and most of their children, including Celonhael, were with me. A few other people, most of them nana's friends from their workshop, came with us. Crithad, for example. None of them could have fought. Everyone in nana's House--your House--were artists. Only our daeradar, Malthoron, went with my adar and fought. He died in the Great Hall. Celonhael saw his body when we finally fled the caves. But that was not the worst he saw. We barred ourselves in our suite as adar told us to do. I had my bow and sword and nana had her bow and the long knife she had inherited. Everyone else had knives, of course." He shook his head. "I could certainly defend myself with a knife against someone wielding a sword. Now. But not then and neither could my uncles do so. When the Noldor came...we heard them in the corridor, opening doors, searching...we knew they would break the door when they found it locked. We had heard them break others. Heard the screams when they did. As we waited and listened to them coming closer in the corridor, we tried to ready ourselves. When they broke the door, nana and I both had our bows drawn."

Thranduil's brows knit and he stared straight forward, as if he were facing a far off target on the range. He was seeing the Noldor breaking down that childhood door. He did not see Lindomiel's wide eyes or Berior's grip on the arms of his chair.

"It was amazingly difficult, even knowing they would attack us...kill us...to release that first arrow. I hesitated for so long that I only got two or three shots off before I was forced to draw my sword. I do not even know if any of my arrows struck anyone. For many, many years after that fight, I blamed myself. I thought if I had faced them with more courage. If I had not hesitated. If I had killed more of them before they got into the room. I realize now, it would have made little difference. We were outnumbered and simply did not have the skill the Noldor had. But before I knew enough about battle to understand that, it was hard for me to accept that failure.

Thranduil jumped slightly when Lindomiel laid a gentle hand on his forearm. He did not look at her. If he did, he would not be able to finish this story or make his point.

"They killed all my naneth's brothers and their wives and children and everyone else with us. We saw it happen. It did not matter that they called out that they were unarmed, that they surrendered or that they pleaded for their lives. They slaughtered them like beasts. Nana, Celonhael, Crithad and I were the only ones still standing when Conuion and his warriors arrived..."

"Conuion was your guard even then?" Berior whispered. He was looking over Thranduil's shoulder. That drove Thranduil glance behind him. Conuion had come forward to the table, from where he had been guarding the doors.

Thranduil shook his head. "I was supposed to be a warrior, not someone who was protected by warriors. He was one of Menegroth's guards and this was the second time he saved my life. The first was when the dwarves attacked Menegroth. He helped nana and I escape then too. When he found us this time, nana was badly wounded. I was trying to protect her, but I had been disarmed once. I never saw that sword again. I did not have time to look for it when we fled. But I had taken up nana's knife, since she could no longer fight. Celonhael and Crithad were wounded, but still trying to help me. We could have only lasted a few more moments. We had no chance of holding them all at bay. Conuion and his warriors were just in time. They saved our lives.

"We were forced to leave everyone's bodies there. We took a few things...a bit of clothing and whatever food was in the room...and we left. We left not even knowing if my adar was alive. It was a month before he found us in a camp of refugees, still trying to treat nana's wounds. For that month, nana and Celonhael and Crithad were all I had."

He reached and grasped Berior's forearm tightly. "I was your age, Berior. I had survived the dwarves' sack of Menegroth and then this. Do you understand the impact that had? Can you see how it is difficult for me to say, 'I will execute that elf' and then draw my sword and do it? Can you see why your adar recognized the evil of such an act and would not want to be party to it? Or even witness to it again?"

Berior nodded quickly.

"My naneth and your adar were the last of the House of Maleithil. The only survivors of that great House to escape Menegroth." He leaned forward. "I do not have to tell you that the House of Maleithil was one of the noblest in Doriath. It mixed the blood of the Sindar and Nandor and even, in the distant past, the Vanyar," he touched his hair. "Your adar was the oldest son of the oldest son of that House. You are his only heir in Middle Earth. The last of your House in Middle Earth. Your House will either survive or fail based entirely on your choices. I urge you to consider carefully what that means--to strive to honor what the House of Maleithil stood for, and that was not war and death. It was the exact opposite: artistry and creativity."

Tears welled in Berior's eyes. He looked torn. "But...that is why it failed. Because its people could not fight."

"Not true. It did not fail. It still survives, regardless of the efforts of overwhelming evil to destroy it. My naneth and your adar were not cowed by Menegroth or Sirion or the War in Mordor. Through their efforts, they kept many others alive too. Not by fighting or hunting, though they learned to do those things too. But what nana and Uncle Celonhael did was more important. In the shadow of grief and pain, in Sirion and here, they brought us hope by continuing to create beautiful things. It was your adar that truly taught me to paint--he made me help him in the workshop he established in Sirion, though I thought it a stupid waste of time. I did not realize until we reached this forest that his constant attempts to keep me distracted probably saved my sanity. And when I was forced to move to this stronghold--a decision that was tremendously difficult for me to make--he, along with nana, made it easier and brighter by making so many of the decorations that adorn these Halls."

He made a sweeping gesture to encompass the mural that covered the back wall, ceiling and pillars of the Hall.

"That is your adar's work, Berior. Crithad carved it and Celonhael painted it and everyone in this realm enjoys it. Your adar's fea is in Mandos now, but he is still all around you. These decorations have stood here for a thousand years and they will stand a thousand more. I owe your adar a great deal, Berior. The absolute least that I can do is ensure that his son realizes that nothing will come of avenging his death. It is useless to meet revenge with revenge: it will heal nothing. Indeed, such a mindset breeds the type of people that Manadhien has twisted to her service. Their lives are dedicated to revenge. Would you be like the very people who killed your adar?"

"Of course not," Berior said.

"Then be like your adar. Reject vengeance. Executing Fuilin and Mauril is not vengeance. It is justice, since that is the only way to ensure they cannot harm this realm. Executing Glilavan is vengeance. To protect this realm from him, we only need to send him from it, which I can do, since he is not barred from taking ship. I want you to try to understand that."

"I will think about it, uncle," Berior conceded.

Thranduil frowned. "That is all I can ask." He leaned heavily back in his chair. "I had not even discussed my decision to execute them with Hallion yet, Berior. I do not want you mentioning it to anyone. I will defend it when I must. I do not want to defend it for the months or years it will take us to arrest Manadhien and her servants."

Berior nodded immediately. "I will not discuss it with anyone. I promise." Then he hesitated. "If it helps at all, I think people will support that decision. Dollion said he would expect it. And, after some debate, even Crithad said he would understand it."

Thranduil's eyebrows shot up. "Speculation of what I will do with Manadhien and her servants is wide-spread, is it?"

"It came up when Legolas was describing...what happened," Berior replied, and he looked as if he were debating with himself if he should say something more.

Something to clarify what he meant by 'how he would make amends for what he said to Legolas,' no doubt. Thranduil realized he had let that explanation escape him. Never mind. He would ask Legolas. Later. For now, this was all he could bear of this topic. He ran his hand over his eyes. "I want you to go to the Green, Berior," he said, interrupting Berior's impending confession. "Find your cousins and try to do something you enjoy."

Berior shook his head and looked at Thranduil with deep concern.

Thranduil smiled at him. "You are indeed very much like your adar. I am fine and I have more work to do here before I can join you and your cousins on the Green, but you go ahead. Your adar would not want you to fade, and to be honest, Berior, you are frightening me."

Berior met Thranduil's gaze evenly. "I will not fade, uncle. I will serve this realm. As adar would expect me to."

"Your adar was the most merry person I ever knew, Berior. That is what he would have expected of his youngest son. Go try to be merry."

Berior nodded and stood. Then, bowing, he turned to leave the Hall.

Lindomiel waited until he passed through the doors and then she stood as well, bringing Thranduil to his feet, out of courtesy. He drew a breath to remind her that he still wanted to discuss her trip to Dale. Before he could speak, she stepped over to him and, without a word, gathered him into an embrace.

*~*~*

Another roar arose from that unruly crowd sheltered by the great branches of the Oak. Tureden swung his leg over the bench he was seated on to turn his back to the noise, fully facing the table instead. He bent over his wine and took another sip of it while staring fixedly across the Green at the stronghold. The idea that Legolas thought he should be allowed to go to the Oak! Good job that he had prevented it, especially tonight of all nights. They seemed even worse than usual, if that could be imagined.

"Wild night," Galion observed, drawing wine from the barrel balanced on the far end of the table and offering it to someone--a warrior from the looks of him--that had just ducked out from under the Oak.

"It always is whenever the king's family games," the warrior said with a broad smile. He raised his goblet to Galion in thanks for the wine.

"I thought Lord Dolgailon left the capital this morning," Galion replied while handing someone else a drink. "With some horses, I heard."

The warrior shrugged. "I do not know where the troop commander is. The king's sons are gaming."

Tureden's head snapped around. He was certain he heard the warrior say sons and not son. He would have words with Colloth, in Conuion's presence, if he allowed Galithil to go to the Oak after he specifically instructed him not to. If Colloth took Legolas there too.... Tureden would see to it that Colloth was dismissed from the king's service for that. At the very least.

"They are even more fun than Lord Aradunnon was, though harder to bet on," the warrior continued.

His use of the term 'they' seemed to confirm Legolas was there. Tureden stood, draining his goblet in one swallow.

"Lord Legolas! He improves on his own best score every time he shoots, it seems. You never know what to bet," the warrior was saying.

Tureden thudded his goblet down on the table and closed the distance between himself and the Oak in several long strides. Peering through its branches, he looked in the direction of the loudest shouting--a rhythmic cheering.

Sure enough, there he was. Legolas and one of the Sixth Years both standing in front of two targets. Speed shooting, it had to be. An infant could hit the target at that distance. Tureden's fists clenched and he looked down to climb through the tangle of old branches, intending to yank Legolas straight back to the stronghold. Where he was supposed to have stayed. Lanthir would be hearing about obedience, along with Legolas. Tureden was an officer in Thingol's guard and in Oropher's guard. He was still an officer, now in Thranduil's guard. It had been a long time since anyone had treated him with the complete disregard Legolas had shown him over the last few days--or the disregard Legolas had apparently incited in the King's Guard. If that child intended to be a warrior himself one day, he had better straighten up, but quickly!

*~*~*

Legolas's focus had narrowed to nothing more than the space between his quiver and his bowstring--to the repetitive motion required to nock and release arrows. He did not hear the crowd around him, nor did he see them jumping or pumping their fists. Seize an arrow, nock, draw, release. Over and over.

"Time! Stop!" Tirithion shouted.

Legolas let his arms fall to his side as his gaze darted from his own target to that of Torthil. He broke into a grin. Nine arrows protruded from the center of his target, only six from Torthil's. He had beaten him soundly! Again, Legolas thought to himself.

"You are never, never going to get that coin back," one of Torthil's fellow Sixth Years taunted him.

Even Tirithion, the archery master, was clapping Legolas on the back. His enthusiasm for Legolas's skill was a bit painful on his ribs, but Legolas did not care. He was having far too much fun.

Fun, despite the fact that something pricked at the edge of his senses. It had all night...the entire time he had been under the Oak. He almost felt eyes upon him.

"Pay up!" Dollion's voice cut into his thoughts. He stood just off to Legolas's left, holding out his hand, collecting his winnings.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. So was Galithil collecting his winnings. He and his cousin almost never bet on these contests themselves. That was their concession. Thranduil's concession was to turn a blind eye to them participating, provided that they did not gamble. Colloth handed Galithil an elaborately carved knife. Legolas's jaw fell open. His father would be furious to see them wagering for something of such high value. Then, as Galithil held it up, admiring it dramatically, Legolas got a better look at it. It was the same knife that Aradunnon, Colloth and Dollion used to win back and forth. Legolas wondered if Galithil had taken his father's place as their gambling partner. He laughed out loud. That would please the king!

Leaves rustled. There would be rainstorms tonight. Legolas could smell it in the air. He frowned. But there was no wind right now. He turned away from the knife Galithil and Colloth were arguing over and scanned the branches of the Oak. The ancient tree almost seemed to be whispering a warning to him. He laughed to himself. He was being a little over-anxious, the result, no doubt, of knowing he would be in at least a little trouble for going out without a guard. Even after his father heard how Tureden had behaved and even after hearing Legolas had felt it was impossible to be locked up, he would still be at least somewhat angry.

"I want another chance!" Torthil declared loudly, all but throwing the coins he had lost to Anastor.

Anastor laughed at him.

Legolas shook off the feeling that he was being watched and turned to Torthil with a smirk. "How many times did you want to lose tonight, Torthil? he asked.

The sound of a bow string twanging interrupted Torthil's response and caused everyone in the crowd to cease their respective gloating or groaning.

Legolas reflexively dropped to one knee to make himself a smaller target and turned in the direction of the sound. All present did the same. Only Legolas, Galithil and Colloth reached for an arrow. Everyone else only looked angrily towards the noise. Tirithion crouched over Legolas, placing himself between him and whoever had just released an arrow from out of bounds.

"Outside the box!" Tirithion shouted. So did Dollion, who, Legolas saw over Tirithion's shoulder, was also between him and the as yet unknown archer.

"Get the bow away from whatever idiot..." Colloth began. He was hunched over Galithil. His command faltered off and his expression registered alarm before becoming completely neutral.

Legolas put a hand on Tirithion's shoulder to move him aside.

Tureden stood ten paces away, hands on his hips, openly glaring at Legolas. His gaze bore into him more deeply than would a stray arrow. Legolas had to struggle not to glare back at him. This crowd was no place for a public confrontation he said to himself firmly, preparing to simply walk back into the stronghold rather than allow one.

Behind Tureden, Berior was just climbing through the outer branches of the Oak, smiling at him happily.

"We do not allow anyone to shoot unless they are standing inside one of the boxes," Legolas heard Tirithion saying angrily, while pointing at the square made of stones that Legolas occupied. "For obvious safety reasons."

"I will try to remember that," Tureden said, not taking his eyes off Legolas. His gaze did not so much as flicker when a few of the warriors who were apparently his friends called greetings to him.

"Now there would be a contest," someone--one of the Sixth Years, one of Torthil's friends--said. "Tureden and Legolas. I would like to see  how Legolas does against the King's Guard!" A few cheers arose in response to that. Berior's was one of them as he jogged over to join his cousins. His smile faded somewhat as he looked between Legolas and Tureden.

Legolas did not acknowledge him. He kept his gaze on Tureden, waiting for his next move.

Tureden closed the distance between them. "You need a lesson in obedience," he said.

At least he spoke quietly. No one else heard him and the analysis of Legolas's skills compared to Tureden's continued unabated.

"Legolas could win that," Dollion said. "I would bet Legolas could win by at least one arrow."

Legolas tried not to react to that challenge in any way. He was not ashamed of going to the Oak without Tureden. Tureden had no right to imprison him. But there was no need to provoke him by challenging his archery skills.

"Not possible," another of the warriors shouted. "Legolas is good, there is no doubt. But Tureden fought in the First Battle. He is the First Lieutenant of the King's Guard."

"Maybe, but Legolas is still the better archer," someone else shouted. "I say he wins by two arrows."

Legolas's jaw clenched and he turned around, intending to tell the warriors to be quiet. That they could expect no contest between he and Tureden.

"Do you have any practice swords?" Tureden intervened before Legolas could speak. "I would not mind finally seeing Legolas's skill with a sword."

Legolas turned back around to stare at him. Tureden would not escort him to the Oak earlier, but now he was challenging him?

Some of the Sixth Years laughed.

"Now, with a sword, Legolas can be easily beaten," Torthil said.

"Not by you," Colloth broke his silence to retort. "He still bests you with a sword consistently in training."

"Still, there is no possibility Legolas could best Tureden," another Sixth Year said.

"I think Legolas could hit him at least once," Dollion shouted, turning to the crowd and holding up a handful of coins. "I would be willing to wager on it."

"Not a chance," Torthil replied. "I will take that bet. Tureden will best Legolas in three of three rounds," he said, holding up an equal number of coins.

And everyone present, save for the king's household, started taking sides.

Legolas took a step back from Tureden, intending to refuse. To tell him that they should go into the stronghold.

"I do not think Legolas should spar," Galithil said.

Berior took another step towards his cousins. "I thought your ribs were still healing. You are not allowed to spar," he said.

But Tureden was not listening. He was thanking a Sixth Year that had handed him two practice swords from a rack by the trunk of the Oak. Tureden held one in his right hand and thrust the tip of the other into the ground between them, swirling it back and forth with one finger on its hilt. Then flicked it towards Legolas.

"Legolas is too much of a coward to publicly lose," Torthil taunted as Legolas reflexively caught the sword that fell against him. "He is happy enough to take part in the archery contests, but he is too much of a sore loser to do something he is not good at."

Legolas's heart began to race. How could he possibly extract himself from this? But he had to. He could not do it. He looked at Tureden, hoping he would recognize his discomfort.

"Three rounds, Legolas," Tureden said, his voice cold. "Raise the sword."

"Some other time, perhaps," Tirithion said.

Legolas glanced at him, but it was too late. Everyone else, save Berior and Galithil, had spread out, shouting and forming a circle around them to give them room. Two of the warriors grabbed Legolas's cousins and pulled them back as Tureden moved to the edge of the circle, raised his sword to a high guard and squared off with Legolas. Legolas still had not lifted the tip of the practice sword from the ground. He closed his right hand around its hilt and then tightened his grasp in an effort to stop his hand from shaking.

"Get him, Legolas," Dollion said, slapping him on the shoulder and then jumping back. "I stand to win quite a sum."

As Legolas raised his sword to a semblance of a mid guard, still struggling to master the nausea that churned his gut, his guard let his sword fall in a sweeping arch from high guard to a full frontal attack aimed at Legolas's head.

Legolas automatically stepped back. Stumbled back, in truth, but the movement was enough to void Tureden's attack. Legolas's vision blurred as he tried to track Tureden's sword. Instead of it, he saw a haze of red. Blood.

"No attacks above the shoulders without armor!" Tirithion shouted.

That familiar command, common in the training program, helped Legolas pull himself back from the plains east of the forest at least somewhat. Just in time too, because unlike the fight with Demil that he was reliving, Tureden was not interested in disarming him. He was interested in hitting him. Reaching the end of his downward swing, Tureden turned his sword in a low cut at Legolas's legs. Legolas had no choice but to block that blow. Their swords clashed together with a crack of wood instead of a clang of steel. This was a sparring match. Nothing more. Legolas drew a deep breath and tried to focus, stepping out of range. Tureden danced back as well, but charged again quickly enough to keep Legolas off guard. He aimed a thrust at Legolas's gut, but turned it sharply as Legolas side-stepped. His swing connected with Legolas's upper arm. At full force.

"You are disabled," he said into Legolas's ear as he stepped back.

"One hit for Tureden!" someone shouted.

Legolas took a deep, steadying breath and faced Tureden properly. Tureden came at him fast again, bringing his sword down to strike at Legolas's shoulder. Legolas took a half step to the side, voiding the attack, but staying within range and aiming a blow at Tureden's leg. Tureden twisted like an otter and drove down Legolas's sword. Then, with his return swing, he made his own swipe at Legolas's lower leg. Legolas leapt out of range, while striking at Tureden's exposed ribs. Tureden continued his upswing, turning it to knock Legolas's sword wide and then immediately reversed, driving his blade down hard onto Legolas's calf so fast that he could not back away. Legolas grimaced and struggled not to fall to one knee as his calf cramped.

"You are crippled," Tureden bent to whisper into his ear.

Legolas glared at him, straightening and hopping on and off his now sore leg in an effort to work out the cramp quickly.

"Two hits for Tureden!"

"Hit him, Legolas!" Dollion shouted. Galithil echoed him.

"One more hit and you lose, Legolas," Torthil called.
 
Legolas ignored him. Without bothering to adopt a proper guard, Legolas rushed Tureden. He was angry now. Even the First Years in the Training Program had enough control to pull their hits. Tureden had not bothered. Legolas swung upwards and extended his arm fully, bringing his sword within range much faster than Tureden expected. The attack drove Tureden back a step before he quickly compensated by taking a long step to the side and raising his sword to slap Legolas's down. Legolas allowed his sword to fall, feinting a blow at Tureden's leg. Off balance, Tureden lowered his sword to block that blow. Legolas stepped back, drawing back his arm and sword. Then he thrust it forward. Briefly, he considered driving it full force into Tureden's gut. At the last moment, he pulled it up short, touching him lightly instead.

"You are dead," Legolas said quietly.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his head began to swim and he swallowed hard. The crowd around him roared as those who had dared to bet that Legolas would manage at least one hit broke into thrilled cheers. He barely heard them.

Tureden made a face at him and stepped back, raising his sword to guard. He did not immediately attack. Instead, he studied Legolas with an odd expression, waiting for him to also return to a guarded position.

"It was a lucky hit," Torthil's voice sounded. It seemed to come from far away. "Tureden will finish this fight now."

"But Legolas still got the hit and you still lost," Galithil retorted. "Again."

Legolas shifted the sword to his left hand and wiped his right against his face and then his tunic. With a deep breath, he shifted the sword back to his right hand again and found himself hoping that Torthil was correct and that this would simply end.

Tureden charged forward, forcing Legolas fully on the defense with a series of swift attacks. He voided the first and was forced to block the next two. He saw his mistake as soon as he made it when he blocked Tureden's last attack with a hanging guard. The defense served to protect his right hip, but it left him in no position to react swiftly enough to Tureden's next attack. His sword swung full force into Legolas's side.

The crowd around him groaned loudly, in sympathy, for that hit. The noise served to cover the cry that was forced from Legolas. He pressed his left hand against his side and struggled to draw a breath as Tureden stepped closer to him.

"It is your turn to be dead," he said.

Legolas could not reply. He could not breath. Sharp pain stabbed into him when he tried, forcing him to gasp and then clamp his mouth shut. His barely healed ribs were obviously no match for a wooden sword. Legolas stood straighter, trying to take pressure off them, drawing a shallower, shorter breath and cutting it off at the first spike of pain. After managing a few such panting breaths, he realized Tureden was speaking to him in a low voice.

"We are going back to the stronghold. Now," he was saying.

Legolas did not intend to argue with him. He needed to get out of the public eye while he could still keep himself upright.

He put the tip of the practice sword still in his hand onto the ground and used it to support himself as he arched to the right, again trying to stretch away from the stabbing pain in his side. As he did, he saw...something. In one of the trees beside the Oak. Just a glimpse. But something that moved...shifted. Too big to be a squirrel or bird. And that was odd. No one climbed in the trees around the Oak for the same reason no one loitered near the training fields. No one wanted to be shot by a stray arrow. He scanned the trees.

After a moment, he caught motion again, this time something moving along a branch.

Definitely a person. It was a laced boot he saw moving in the shadows. In his peripheral vision, he saw Tureden searching the same tree he was looking at. He pointed. "There. Just above the bare branch in the nearest tree, but in the tree behind that one."

Tureden pulled down his arm. The sharp motion made Legolas's ribs scream again. "I see it," Tureden whispered, coming to stand in front of him.

Dollion, Colloth, Tirithion and some of the other warriors were also now looking into the trees.

There was the movement again. A dark-clad form, heading away from the Oak. Swiftly.

Legolas took a step after it, a gasp escaping him that was not caused by pain. Lantern-light from the Green had glinted off something silver. It could not be. The figure slipped behind a large trunk and Legolas could no longer see it. He held his breath, watching that tree and the ones immediately around it, waiting for another sign of movement. A fragment of a face peered out from behind the trunk and froze when he saw the group of warriors watching him.

Cold fear and shock clenched Legolas's heart. "Lagril!" he called. He was not certain. It was too dark and the elf's face was too well obscured by leaves. But when he called the name, the elf in the tree took off, fleeing, full speed, away from the Oak.

Tureden and Colloth recognized the name Lagril. They both pulled an arrow from their quivers, nocked their bows, drew and tried to find a shot. Anastor did the same.

Legolas also instinctively nocked an arrow, the motion causing him to gasp for breath. "Stop him. The king wants him for treason," he managed to choke out.

That brought Dollion and his warriors to a full draw. 

Anastor loosed his arrow first. Legolas's eyes flew open wide. Anastor had targeted Lagril's body. The shot drove Lagril to leap forward. Tureden's arrow embedded in a branch, slicing shirt sleeve, but not arm or shoulder, as Lagril crouched lower to dodge it. Colloth's shot just missed Lagril's calf as he leapt again to another branch. Dollion, the last to release, also aimed at Lagril's shoulder. His arrow flew through Lagril's hair, which streamed behind him as he fled.

Legolas looked at the other warriors as Tureden, Colloth and Dollion reached for another arrow. They hesitated, looking frightened. Too frightened to shoot an elf. Legolas understood that, but he also understood that Lagril was not going to escape. He raised his bow. He could feel bones grinding against one another as his muscles tightened to draw the arrow back. He clenched his jaw and ignored the pain.

"Get him in mid jump," Tureden ordered.

That made sense. Lagril could do much less to dodge in mid air. But there was no possibility Tureden, Colloth or Dollion could nock and draw again before Lagril jumped. He had to be stopped before he fled into the trees that held the telain of the citizens.

Legolas strained to hold his draw a moment longer.

Lagril leapt and Legolas released his arrow. It flew straight at its target and drove into his thigh. The impact knocked Lagril's legs out from under him. He caught the branch he was jumping to, but when he tried to right himself to stand on it and continue fleeing, his injured leg crumpled underneath him, he lost his footing entirely and slipped. For a moment he managed to hold on to the branch, but then his grip failed and he tumbled to the forest floor.

Even from this distance, Legolas heard him grunt as he landed.

Anastor immediately shouldered his bow and drew his knife. He ran straight towards where Lagril had landed.

"Stop him," Legolas called, pointing to Anastor.

One of the warriors darted forward, grabbed Anastor's arm and held him in place. Anastor shot him a furious look.

Dollion signaled for two others to come with him to subdue Lagril. They had not gone two steps when Lagril arose from the ground, standing in full view, favoring his injured leg. He had his bow in his hand, a silver arrowed nocked. He aimed it directly at Legolas's chest.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum
Daeradar -- grandfather
talan/telain -- flet/flets (the houses in the trees where Silvan elves live)

Vow not to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.
Elrond, Fellowship of the Ring

Chapter 4: And darkness

"So the first thing he did was ask to accompany me to Dale, hmm?" Lindomiel asked. Amusement lit her face.

Thranduil spent a moment just enjoying that sight. There was nothing that cheered him like his wife's smile. When he failed to answer her, one delicate eyebrow arched. He could not help but smile himself. "It was not his immediate response," he finally said. "He had the wisdom to wait to ask me until we were alone. Galithil encouraged him to do it, I imagine. They had their heads together, whispering. So I think we can expect that the next argument will be that Galithil should also go along."

Lindomiel laughed outright now. "Naturally," she said. "The more the merrier, as the men say. Let them come. Having them along will make Celonhael's absence less poignant."

The reminder of Celonhael brought Thranduil's mind back to the practical problems with the whole trip. "I am worried about you going, Lindomiel," he said. "With Manadhien's servants abroad. I am concerned they will strike again. It would not be the first time they made an attempt against you when you traveled to Dale. You and Legolas and Galithil, all one target? That might be too tempting to resist."

Lindomiel shrugged. "I am a target whenever I travel, Thranduil. And not just hers. I appear, in men's eyes, to be a defenseless woman. And a wealthy one, with a fine horse and so many servants, as the guards you send with me appear to be. We have seen highway men on the way to Dale before. We travel prepared for danger."

"Manadhien's servants do not want to rob you. They want to kill you. They can do that with an arrow while hidden in the tall grass on the plain. You would be dead before you recognized you were under attack."

"They will not kill me with an arrow. There is not enough satisfaction in that. Enough suffering..."

"That is not an argument remarkable for its cogency, Lindomiel," Thranduil interrupted. "Not to persuade me to let you or the children go."

Lindomiel loosed an indignant noise. "Let me go? Unless you want to go naked next winter, I will go. Who else do you think can choose the new wool merchant?"

She was correct. Thranduil could not deny that. But the way her eyes sparkled when she suggested he would go naked was enough to force him to look down at the table and fight to remain serious. "I am so thankful that you do not make a regular appearance in my morning council, meleth. I do not think I could survive the distraction."

That brought the amused smile back to Lindomiel's face. "My recommendation, as a member of your council, is that Legolas, and Galithil, if he asks, be allowed to come. We want to make Legolas ready for this type of duty. There is no reason not to start that now. My recommendation as Legolas's naneth is the same. We do not know how long it will take to arrest Manadhien's servants and I refuse to allow my sons or myself to be held prisoner until then. We will be cautious. You can arrange extra guards, if you wish. But I am going and I think Legolas should come too."

Thranduil considered that silently for a moment and then turned to the captain of his guard, who he had invited to join them for this discussion.

Conuion nodded in response to the king's implied question. "I had already asked Tureden to plan an extended escort for the queen on this trip. It would be sufficient to cover Legolas and Galithil too. My only concern would be: if Legolas goes, is he well enough healed to defend himself, should the need arise?"

"He returned to training today, he told me," Thranduil replied.

"And was dismissed. By Langon. According to Tureden's report." Conuion countered.

Thranduil looked sharply at Conuion.

"Tureden said he arrived late and was dismissed after one class. Tactics, I think. Perhaps because he was late? I am not certain, but Tureden mentioned to me in passing that he...did not feel Legolas had taken the drill seriously. He said his sword work was...sloppy."

Thranduil frowned, shaking his head. "I cannot imagine why that would be," he said with heavy sarcasm.

"I cannot imagine why you allowed him to return to training so soon," Lindomiel exclaimed. "How could you think that wise? He should be doing something to enjoy himself--hunting or at least camping. Helping with the harvest or working with Master Ruscil, if you want to keep him close at hand for safety sake. But sparring? Thranduil that is insane. How could you allow it?"

"I expressed concern when he told me he was going," Thranduil answered. "He told me that he wanted to go. He is too old for me to command on such things, Lindomiel. We agreed on that--indeed, I seem to recall it was you that insisted upon giving Legolas more room to make his own choices. I merely obeyed. Perhaps he went, found it too difficult and asked Langon to be excused."

"That is possible," Conuion said. "Tureden did say in his report that Langon spoke to Legolas for some time privately. But, respectfully, my lady, the point in my mind is: can Legolas defend himself on the journey to Dale, if need be? I recommend that be a consideration before he is allowed to go."

Thranduil nodded. "We will discuss it with Legolas this evening before we retire. If he--and Galithil--show the proper respect for a journey of this nature, and if Legolas has a good explanation for why he was dismissed from training, we will allow them to go. I will keep you informed, Conuion." Then he turned back to Lindomiel, who only appeared somewhat mollified. "What about Berior?" he asked in an effort to divert her. "Should he go as well? To give us an opportunity to see how he interacts with men?"

Lindomiel's frown deepened. "On this trip? So soon? Do you think we will get an accurate example of his talents? He is suffering much more than Legolas."

"Perhaps the distraction would be good for him."

"I am not certain that being in close proximity to me for two solid weeks of travel would prove to be a distraction for Berior. More likely it would be a torment," Lindomiel said quietly.

"What in all of Arda do you mean by that?" Thranduil responded.

"Berior and Ollwen are angry with me. For sending Celonhael," she explained while reaching out to grasp Thranduil's wrist where it laid on the table.

"What!" Thranduil exclaimed.

Lindomiel's grasp tightened. "Ollwen is gone, Thranduil. And she was devastated by her loss. She had little, if any, command over herself. Berior, I hope, is emulating his mother. I believe, with time and perspective, he will realize that his behavior is...unkind."

"He will realize it when he is told, in no uncertain terms, that it is unjust and unacceptable," Thranduil retorted.

Lindomiel shook her head. "He cannot be ordered to forgive..."

"There is nothing to forgive. You gave an order, in my absence, for the safety of this realm. That order was the correct one. Berior is now a member of my council, Lindomiel. He, along with everyone on it, need to understand and accept that some decisions come with unforeseen consequences. Some will require sacrifices that are very painful..."

"He will understand that, Thranduil. Eventually. He is not yet fifty. He has not seen even what Legolas and Galithil have seen of the workings of the King's Council. You have some adjustments to make, my lord. You have gone, in the course of very few years, from being served by elves many years your senior to elves barely or not even of age. By necessity. I realize that. And out of respect for their fathers, who we have lost. But while you can expect the very young to understand that they must serve you faithfully and competently, you, in turn, must accommodate their more exuberant responses. The high spirits of youth. You are not too old to recall such things, I hope?"

Thranduil tried not to laugh. He did not want to laugh. He wanted to be angry that Lindomiel had been made to feel worse about a decision he knew she already struggled with. He pulled her hand free of its grip on his wrist and lifted it to his lips. "I do vaguely recall exuberance, my lady," he replied, "but I would never approve of 'high spirits' that hurt another, especially if that person is you." Still holding her hand, he continued. "Would you prefer not to have Berior accompany you?"

"I would prefer that it be his choice. One presented to him with the reminder that I will be there," she replied.

He nodded and turned to Conuion. "If Berior goes, can you provide a guard for him?"

"Lanthir can go with him, my lord. He accompanied Celonhael the last few times he traveled abroad. He would manage the trip well."

"Very well, that is settled," Thranduil said and he made to stand. That was the last topic he had wanted to discuss for the evening. Now he wanted some wine. He had seen Galion bring a barrel up from the cellars and roll it across the bridge to the Green earlier. Maybe some wine and dancing with Lindomiel. He turned to her as he rose, holding out his hand, intending to invite her.

Conuion and Hallion stood as well.

"My lord, about your Guard," Conuion said quickly. "May I make a suggestion?"

Thranduil's eyebrows rose and he turned from Lindomiel to him. "You are the captain of my Guard. You do not need my permission to enact any suggestion you might have for it."

Conuion frowned. "This suggestion involves Legolas, my lord."

Thranduil regarded him silently, eyebrows still raised, waiting for him to continue.

"I have seen some interactions between Legolas and Tureden that concern me," he said. "I believe we should speak to them both."

"May I ask you to be more specific?" Thranduil replied when Conuion said no more.

Conuion's frown deepened. "Tureden stated to me that Legolas shows him little..." he stopped and sighed. "Well, Tureden's precise words were, 'absolutely no respect.'"

"I find that very difficult to believe," Lindomiel interrupted, her tone soft, but clearly disapproving.

"I spent a little time watching them today, since Tureden made that comment yesterday," Conuion said. "I kept my distance, to try to get a true idea of what was going on, because I also found the idea of a disrespectful Legolas a little hard to imagine. Legolas was just coming back from swimming and his cousins from training when I found them. Legolas was...very dismissive of Tureden. And some of his reactions were...to be completely frank, my lord, they were rude. Not ones I would have appreciated."

"I will speak to him," Thranduil said, trying not to sound short. He knew his posture was stiff--enough so to be making Conuion uncomfortable. Legolas had had little time to recover from all that happened. Still, rude behavior was not acceptable and he knew that.

"I think you should, my lord. But I think you and I should also speak to Tureden. He does not know Legolas well, though he knows you well enough and you would think he could guess that he could not treat Legolas much differently than you. But...again, to be completely frank, I did not watch them long before I found myself wondering if Tureden had not earned Legolas's rudeness. Tureden seemed to think he could command Legolas."

That made Hallion snort.

Thranduil grinned at him briefly before turning to Conuion. "And captain, you also often seem to think you can command me," he interjected.

"In matters of your safety, you may rest assured that I can and will, my lord," Conuion replied firmly.

Firmly enough to make Thranduil laugh.

"But Tureden's orders to Legolas were not limited to concerns over safety," Conuion continued, ignoring his laughter. "For example, he told Legolas that he and his friends could not take horses out of the barn..."

"Why should Legolas not take horses from the barn?" Thranduil asked, now confused.

"Precisely my point," Conuion replied. "Legolas lost his temper entirely when Tureden said that. They openly argued. In Crithad's yard. I was about to intervene when Legolas stalked away from Tureden to the barn. For a moment, I doubted Tureden would go after him. I also feared he would refuse to accompany them on their ride once Legolas secured the horses."

"Tureden likely did not realize Legolas is allowed to take the horses. No other children are allowed to," Lindomiel said quietly.

"And I imagine Legolas took the king's horse," Hallion added, winking at Thranduil.

"I told him he could exercise my horse when ever he wished," Thranduil said.

"Perhaps the queen is correct and Tureden does not know Legolas's boundaries, my lord. But I am concerned that, without some discussion to better define expectations, those two will not work together well."

"We will speak to them. Both," Thranduil said. "If Legolas does not have training, perhaps we can take a few moments after morning council tomorrow. Thank you for mentioning this, Conuion."

Conuion only bowed, but he appeared to be very relieved. Thranduil found himself wondering just how bad the argument he had witnessed had been. Thranduil had assumed it was only an exchange of a few words. Legolas would never argue publicly. But Conuion's demeanor implied it might have been worse. Well, he would manage that tomorrow. Now, he was going to the Green.

*~*~*

Legolas froze, eyes locked on Lagril's drawn bow--and the arrow, aimed directly at him. Before he even had time to register danger, Tureden's back consumed his view. His guard had stepped between them. He had his own bow at full draw, his fingers releasing the string. The bow twanged as his arrow leapt away, flying straight at Lagril's bow hand.

The sound was immediately repeated at least two dozen-fold.

Legolas took a slight step to the side just in time to see Lagril convulse with the impact of so many arrows that Legolas could not even immediately count them.

Tureden tensed, the hand that had drawn his bow coming back behind him, groping for Legolas.

It took Legolas less than a heartbeat to realize what concerned his guard: as Lagril contorted, trying to dodge the pain of the arrows flying into him, his fingers slipped off his bow string. His fully drawn bow string.

The arrow flew wild from the string, wobbling.

Tureden took a step back, both arms thrown wide behind himself, in an effort to herd Legolas. He crouched slightly, watching the arrow's erratic trajectory. Then, he leapt to one side, dragging Legolas with him. The arrow whistled by them and drove into a bough of the Oak with a solid thunk.

Legolas stared at it for a long moment.

Tureden released his grip on Legolas's arm and stepped away from him. His eyes bored into him, searching him for injuries.

"I am fine, obviously," Legolas said. His gaze drifted involuntarily to Lagril again, already knowing that he could not possibly represent a further threat, else Tureden would not have his back to him. Still, Legolas looked. Lagril was falling to his knees, silent as he dropped. His hand clutched his throat. It was covered in far too much blood. As he collapsed, Legolas saw an arrow protruding, not from his arms, shoulders or legs, but from his neck.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel!" a sickened voice cried.

Legolas glanced toward it.

It was Galithil. His bow was slack in his left hand, his right covered his mouth. He was staring at Berior. Berior's eyes and mouth were round O's.

Legolas's gaze darted back to Lagril's body. It was Berior's arrow that had killed him.

Legolas took a step towards his cousin, but the captain of the Palace Guard blocked his path, looking at him expectantly. Legolas moved to dodge around him, worried about Berior, but stopped himself as he processed what his priorities needed to be. "Dollion," he said, "if Lagril is here, then another elf--Pelin--who helped him abduct Anastor and I, might be here as well. So might Fuilin and Mauril. Do you know them?"

"I know Fuilin and Mauril, my lord. From the old capital by the mountains," Dollion replied. He pointed at six of his warriors, one by one--warriors that had long served the Palace Guard. They would all know Fuilin and Mauril. Dollion gave the signal for them to search the surrounds. They moved off instantly. "I do not know any elf named Pelin," he finished.

"I know him. I can help search," Anastor said, stepping forward.

Dollion pressed his lips together and looked at Legolas.

"You are as much a target as I am, Anastor," Legolas said. "He would be hidden. If he sees you before you see him..."

"I am the only one besides you that will recognize Pelin, Legolas. I want to help find him, if he is here," Anastor insisted.

As Legolas and Anastor spoke, Galuauth, Pendurion and Belloth climbed under the low hanging boughs of the Oak from where they had been merrymaking on the Green. Their eyes widened in response to the sight before them and more so at the mention of Pelin. They rushed forward to help surround Legolas, Galithil and Berior.

"I can go with Anastor, my lord," Galuauth offered.

Legolas started to accept that offer. It did make sense for Anastor to help search, if he could be kept safe. And Galuauth would not fail in that duty, even with Anastor as his charge. Before he could agree, Legolas noticed Tureden's expression was one of shock and disapproval. And Tureden was Galuauth's officer. "Either Anastor or I--or both of us--will need to help search for Pelin. As Anastor said, we are the only people here that will recognize him. Would it be acceptable for Galuauth to go with Anastor, lieutenant?" Legolas settled on asking, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Tureden remained silent and still a long moment before nodding.

Anastor, Galuauth and two more warriors sprinted out of the shelter of the Oak a moment later at Dollion's signal.

Shouting was beginning to erupt on the Green. News spread quickly. Legolas turned towards it, worry creasing his brow.

"Should we clear the Green, my lord?" Dollion asked.

Tureden's eyebrows shot up and he looked between Dollion and Legolas.

Legolas did not notice. He hesitated over that question. It seemed like a much more far reaching decision than telling Dollion that Fuilin might be nearby and allowing him to conclude for himself that fact warranted a search. Still, Manadhien's servants were a threat to everyone if they started loosing arrows on the Green.

"Yes," he replied. "Tell them to go back to their cottages for the evening. If people ask, tell them we caught one criminal tonight and are searching for another. And tell the Gate Guards to inform the king what happened." Before I am called on to make a decision that is completely outside my authority, he added silently to himself.

Dollion made a quick bow and ran onto the Green.

As he moved off, Tureden's hand stretched out towards Legolas's shoulder. Legolas did not notice. He was finally turning his attention to Berior and Galithil. He strode towards them, ducking unintentionally from under Tureden's grasp.

Berior stood, his bow on the ground at his feet, staring at Lagril. Staring at his arrow, covered with blood in Lagril's throat. Legolas doubted his cousin was even aware of the warriors surrounding him, some with their hands on his shoulders or back, all murmuring comforting words.

"Berior? I know that is not the shot you intended to make," Legolas said, repeating what most of the elves surrounding Berior were saying. Legolas was not as certain of that assertion as his words seemed to imply, but he hoped it was true.

Legolas's voice seemed to bring Berior out of his stupor. He grasped Legolas's upper arms and focused on him. "I swear it was not," he immediately affirmed. "I aimed at his shoulder. His shoulder, Legolas. I...it hit him...I do not see how it hit his..." Berior's voice faded out. He was not able to complete that thought.

"He was hit by over two dozen arrows, Berior," Legolas said calmly. "Some of them hit him before yours, he jerked from the pain, and his throat ended up where his shoulder had been when you targeted him..."

"I should have aimed for his leg!" Berior exclaimed. "I just could not see it as well."

"Berior, you did nothing wrong. You aimed to disable him. He moved. The arrow struck him fatally. If he had not threatened my life, no one would have threatened his. This is his fault, not yours. Moreover, you know what he is guilty of. You know you did nothing more than what the king would have been forced to do."

Berior stared at Legolas a long moment, still breathing through his open mouth. Finally, he let go of Legolas's arms and took a step back. "What I told the king I would do in his stead," he whispered. "He will believe I did this purposefully." He looked down. "Offer not to walk in the dark, he who has never seen the nightfall, the old saying goes," he whispered. "I cannot believe I... I certainly understand...." Biting his lip, he looked directly back at Legolas. "I apologize, sincerely, for how I spoke to you and the king."

"It is forgotten, Berior," Legolas assured him. "And we will tell him how this happened. Make sure that he understands you did not do it purposefully." Then, in an effort to get his cousin away from where he was forced to see Lagril, he added, "We should go do that now and get inside quickly."

"I agree," Tureden said from so close behind Legolas that he made both Legolas and Berior jump. "Go. Now," he added in his officer's voice, obviously expecting Legolas to argue.

Legolas had no intention of doing that--it would be a waste of time and breath with Tureden. Better to help get Berior into the stronghold and then ask his father for permission to search. He put an arm around Berior's shoulders while Galithil bent over to pick up his bow and hand it back to him. Without another word, Legolas and Galithil led their cousin towards the Gates.

*~*~*

Thranduil was walking down the center aisle of the Hall, arm in arm with Lindomiel and conversing with Hallion, when the doors of the Hall flew open and the outer guard rushed into the room.

Conuion, who had been following several paces behind, brought himself alongside the king in two long strides.

"My lord, there is a disturbance on the Green," the guard called. "Dollion is clearing it and calling for warriors."

"Fetch the king's weapons," Conuion ordered a servant in the Hall. The servant ran towards the family quarters, full speed.

Thranduil took Lindomiel's hand from his arm and passed her to Hallion. Her expression hardened as her other hand fell to the knife she carried at her waist. "Please stay here with Hallion until we learn what has happened," Thranduil pleaded rather than wasting time trying to command her.

With obvious reluctance, Lindomiel accepted Hallion's efforts to take her arm.

"Thank you, meleth," Thranduil said quickly. Then he and Conuion jogged to the doors, Conuion sword in hand.

Thranduil looked through the now open doors of the Hall and out onto the Green. He saw no immediate evidence of a threat, but people were indeed hurriedly dispersing to the various paths that led to the cottages in the surrounding forest, some hand-in-hand, some carrying musical instruments or the accoutrements for whatever game they had been playing with their families. Deserted blankets spread on the grass and goblets on the tables showed that some people left too quickly to bother to gather their belongings. Galion had abandoned his wine barrel and was jogging across the bridge. Dannenion, Dolwon and their wives were almost running for the Gates. Their children were not with them.

Thranduil frowned and scanned the visible trees carefully, searching for anything that might have provoked this alarm. Seeing nothing that he could respond to, he narrowed his focus to the Oak. That was where Legolas, Galithil and Berior had intended to go.

A moment later, Noruil emerged from behind its low hanging boughs. Then, Legolas, Galithil, and Berior appeared, surrounded by members of the King's Guard and with their own weapons in their hands.

"How in all of Arda...!" one of the Gate Guards exclaimed, when Legolas came into view. The other stepped to the edge of the landing as if he needed a better view to confirm what he was seeing. They exchanged a confused look.

From the door to the family quarters, Lanthir also drew a sharp breath as he stared out the Gates at Legolas and his cousins.

Thranduil did not have time to puzzle over those reactions. "What is going on?" he asked, as he entered the antechamber. His eyes remained on his children.

"Someone was attacked," Galion said, hurrying through the Gates. "By a criminal, the warriors said. They told us to return to our homes and stay inside for the rest of the night. They would not even let me bring the barrel back inside. It is still half full."

"Dollion said that Legolas said that the criminal is Lagril," Dolwon exclaimed sounding breathless as he and Dannenion ran inside.

In response to that, Thranduil took several steps towards the Gates, Conuion on his heels. Again he scrutinized the tree line.

"Anastor went with two warriors," Dannenion added. His eyes were wide with fear. "He said he was going to see if they could find Pelin. Galuauth was with him. He said Legolas sent him to guard him. My lord, can Galuauth truly keep Anastor safe? These are Manadhien's servants! The same ones that we just retrieved our children from!"

Thranduil was all too aware of that.

The children were walking, calmly, across the Green. Thranduil found himself willing them to run, though he knew they could not. Not even a dragon could compel Thranduil to appear to flee into the stronghold. Still.... He breathed only slightly easier when Golwon, Isteth, Eirienil and Maidhien came into view and joined them in their march across the lawn. A moment later, Engwe also joined them. All had bows, including Legolas, he reminded himself firmly.

For what little good that would do them.

Any one of them, or many of them, might, at this very moment, be targeted by enemy arrows. Targeted by Manadhien's servants hiding somewhere in the trees. He might watch one of them fall right now, before his eyes. He took another step towards the Gates and felt Conuion's hand close over his arm.

"You will wait for your weapons, my lord," Conuion said into his ear.

"My lord, will Galuauth protect him?" Dannenion repeated his question.

Thranduil forced himself to look at Dannenion. "Of course he will, Dannenion, to the best of his ability, if that is what Legolas ordered. And it is very important for Anastor to help search. He will recognize Pelin where none of the warriors would."

As Thranduil said that, he tensed, realizing it was true--not just for Anastor, but for his own son as well. He was grateful Tureden had clearly insisted that Legolas not accompany Anastor, but if Legolas requested it, and he surely would, Thranduil could not logically deny him the right to search himself. Legolas's participation in the hunt would double the chances that Pelin would be recognized.

Logical or not, it would still be a very difficult request to grant.

Thranduil relaxed marginally as his family started across the bridge.

"I am going to get my sword," Engwe said the moment he passed through the Gates. He walked straight past Thranduil where he stood in the antechamber. "I will recognize Fuilin and Mauril if they are here. I am going to help hunt."

"I am going too," Golwon said, following Engwe. His wife, Isteth, went with them. Thranduil did not complain. She was his chief scribe. She was also one of the most skilled archers he had ever met.

Eirienil, Maidhien and Noruil remained behind with Legolas and his cousins. They, along with the guards, gathered around Thranduil.

"What happened?" Thranduil demanded. He directed himself to Legolas and that made Tureden's brows rise. Thranduil did not care. Tureden might be an officer, but he wanted to hear his son assure him that he was not injured. He wanted to hear the same from Berior, truth be told. He was quite pale, as if he might be injured.

"None of us are hurt," Legolas replied promptly, studying his father for a moment before concluding that statement. "My lord," was what he finally said. "Lagril fared more poorly. He is dead."

Thranduil struggled not to exclaim in surprise right along with Dannenion and Dolwon. "How?"

"We were at the Oak," Legolas began.

Tureden turned an odd expression on Thranduil the moment Legolas said that. He almost seemed to expect something, though Thranduil did not have the inclination to try to figure out what at the moment.

"The entire time I was gaming, something seemed off to me, but I discounted it as.... Well, I ignored it and obviously should not have. I had just finished a duel with Tureden when we both saw something moving in the trees. No one sits in the branches near the Oak, so we looked closer. The person started to leave, but before they went far, I got a better look--a glimpse at the person's face. I thought it was Lagril and called out to see if I was right. As soon as I did, he fled. We stopped him with an arrow but..." There, Legolas hesitated, looking nervously at his father.

Thranduil could guess what that meant. "But he was not badly enough wounded to be disabled and he threatened you. Or one of your cousins."

"Me," Legolas confirmed.

"Better to simply surrender than to threaten the king's son at the Oak," Galithil said, his tone grave. "Fifty warriors, all with their bows in their hands? That is bound to turn out badly."

"Turned him into a porcupine is what it did," Noruil said, laughing.

"He did look like a porcupine," Legolas agreed solemnly, "bristling with arrows instead of quills."

Berior swallowed. Hard.

Thranduil's eyes widened. That was nothing less than what Lagril deserved and, Thranduil would be ashamed to openly admit it, but he was relieved. It spared him the necessity of executing Lagril himself. Still, it was a gruesome image and one he sincerely regretted Legolas had to see so soon after Demil. He searched his son's face for any sign of how this might have affected him. Legolas appeared much more composed than Berior. Berior looked...well, he looked as if he would be sick.

"Naturally, everyone had targeted him to disable him," Legolas hurried to conclude. "To hit his arms or legs. One of the arrows accidently struck Demil in the throat as he convulsed from being hit so many times."

Legolas fell silent and looked at Berior.

His cousin's gaze was fixed on the floor and he was drawing long deep breathes.

Thranduil looked from him back to Legolas. His son seemed to be imploring him to understand something. Thranduil's own breathing stopped. "Did Berior kill him?" he mouthed.

Legolas nodded and emphatically mouthed one word back at him. "Accidentally."

Thranduil released the breath he had been holding and reached to pull Berior to him. Not again, he thought. This could not be happening again. Not to Celonhael's son, who had been entrusted to him.

As soon as Thranduil's hands fell on his shoulders, Berior burst into speech. "I swear it was an accident, my lord. I aimed for his shoulder and I am a skilled enough archer to have been able to make that shot. It should not have been a difficult one. He moved. I did not...expect that. I know, after everything I said, you do not believe..."

"I believe you," Thranduil assured him, tightening his arms about him. "It sounds as if you made the same shot many other people did..."

"He did," Legolas confirmed.

"Exactly," Galithil said, speaking over his cousin.

"It was unlucky fate that your arrow, and not someone else's, happened to land at the precise time Lagril moved. It is as much the fault of the arrow that landed before yours, finally forcing Lagril to move, as it is your fault. And if it had not been your arrow, it very likely would have been someone else's. Or my sword. The end is the same. Do not blame yourself. Concentrate on the good instead: one more of Manadhien's servants has been eliminated as a threat to this realm."

Saying all that, Thranduil made to lead Berior off to the family quarters, but his last statement reminded him that he, unfortunately, had more to do. "Dannenion said Anastor is helping to search for Pelin," he said, again addressing Legolas, while looking around the antechamber and finally over his shoulder into the Hall. Someone needed to take care of Berior while he managed this situation. "What about Fuilin and Mauril?  What does Dollion understand about this?"

"I told him that Lagril's presence meant it was likely Pelin, Fuilin and Mauril are here too," Legolas answered. "And he knows they are wanted for treason. He sent warriors, not just Anastor, to search and to secure his patrol area."

As Legolas spoke, Engwe, Golwon and Isteth came out of the family quarters, armed. They ran for the Gates.

"Engwe," Thranduil called, pointing at him. His uncle skidded to a stop, scowling at him. "See to it that the Path Guard and neighboring patrols are informed of this and told to keep a look out for Pelin, Fuilin and Mauril," he ordered.

"I will send messengers now, my lord," Engwe replied and he disappeared out the Gates.

The servant emerged from the family quarters, carrying Thranduil's sword, bow and light armor. Thranduil raised a brow and wondered who had insisted on the armor. No matter. He saw Galithil and Legolas eyeing the weapons eagerly and made a decision. Berior would not be comfortable with Lindomiel, apparently, but he needed someone, and Thranduil wanted his son and foster son kept safe so...

"Legolas, you and Galithil care for your cousin," he said, gesturing for Legolas to take charge of Berior with one hand while holding out the other for the sword the servant had given to Conuion. "Take him to your room, through there," he nodded towards the Hall, "and tell your naneth and Hallion what has happened. Do whatever Hallion asks of you. Tell him I am joining the search."

Legolas hesitated only a moment before obeying. He reached to put an arm around Berior.

Thranduil turned to Conuion, who was already signaling orders to the members of the Guard present. One, aimed at Tureden and Colloth, ordered them to join Pendurion and Belloth to guard the king.

In response to that, Tureden stepped forward to speak into Conuion's ear. "I think Colloth and I should stay behind. I do not trust Legolas or Galithil to remain in the stronghold," Thranduil heard him say.

Legolas heard it too. He turned an utterly scathing look on his guard. It was fierce enough to make Thranduil pause, but it had no effect on Tureden. He simply waited for a response from his captain. Conuion had stopped giving orders and was staring at Tureden.

"May I ask what that means?" Thranduil demanded.

Tureden turned to him, obviously unaware that he might have just said anything surprising. "I forbade Legolas to go to the Oak earlier this evening, so he waited until I turned my back and went without me," he replied.

Thranduil's gaze darted to Legolas, expecting to hear a denial and explanation. He did not. Surely it was not true that Legolas went, without a guard, to the Oak! Now of all times! How could he do something so...stupid! How could it happen at all? Why would the Gates Guards or Lanthir not at least send for someone? Then Thranduil remembered the guards and Lanthir's earlier reactions when they saw Legolas--they were surprised to see him. Surely not because...

"I have yet to determine," Tureden continued, "if Colloth merely disobeyed my order not to take Galithil there, or if he also is responsible for taking Legolas."

That caused Conuion's gaze to snap from Tureden to Colloth.

"Colloth did not take me anywhere," Legolas said. "I went by myself and refused to go back when Colloth asked me to."

"Why did you not bring them both back inside?" Tureden asked Colloth. "Why did you allow Galithil to go when I ordered you not to?"

Colloth's chin rose until he was looking down his nose at his lieutenant. "Unlike you, sir, I am not comfortable publicly arguing with the king's sons," he answered, his gaze sweeping over Dolwon and Dannenion's families and finally alighting on the Gates.

Thranduil looked at them as well.

The Gate Guards' attention was clearly divided between their duty and listening to this conversation.

Thranduil handed his sword back to Conuion. An entire patrol and half his family was already searching for Manadhien's servants. Thranduil needed to find out what, if any, other damage might have been done before he could search himself. He pointed at Legolas and Galithil "In the Hall," he ordered. "If you will excuse us," he said, nodding to Dannenion and Dolwon and gesturing for Eirienil to take Berior back to the family quarters.

"I will come check on you as soon as I can," he said softly to Berior. "Will you be alright with Eirienil for just a bit?"

"I am fine, uncle," Berior replied, stoutly. He was looking at Legolas with wide eyes.

Thranduil turned Berior over to Eirienil and watched for a moment as she and Maidhien led him away. Then he took a step back to allow Legolas and Galithil to precede him through the doors. They did so without protest, walking straight to the table where Lindomiel and Hallion stood tensely. Thranduil allowed Legolas enough time to assure his mother that he was uninjured and to quickly relate what had happened on the Green. Then he faced his son, hands on his hips, expression hard. "True? You went to the Oak when Tureden forbade you to do so? And you went alone?"

Lindomiel's eyes widened and she looked at Legolas with concern.

"True," Legolas admitted. He turned to Tureden who stood next to Conuion and Thranduil. "Tureden refused to accompany me, so I had no choice."

"You had the choice to remain inside or go somewhere other than the Oak if Tureden deemed it too unsafe for you..." Thranduil began.

"Tureden's refusal to escort me to the Oak had nothing to do with safety," Legolas interrupted, still glaring at Tureden. "It had everything to do with a complete lack of respect..."

"Respect!" Tureden exclaimed. "You are going to speak to me of respect! I have never in my life seen a child behave in a less respectful manner..."

"It was you that argued with me, publicly, four times today, was it not?" Legolas cut him off. "Once on the training field..."

"You refused to spar with me," Tureden said, speaking over Legolas. "I have the right to know how you handle your weapons."

"...where you not only argued with me," Legolas continued without pause, "but also with Langon, an officer of the training program, in front of his subordinates. Then you argued with me again when I was going to swim with Aewen..."

"Because you were going where you are not allowed," Tureden countered. "Better that I had stopped you from going altogether as I was inclined to do. That was shocking behavior, Legolas! Undressing each other. Sitting practically naked in each other's laps..."

"As I said then: I am allowed to swim in those pools and no one swims in the river in their tunic and boots."

"Her hands were all over your bare chest..."

Both Thranduil and Lindomiel raised their eyebrows.

Legolas shot a guilty look at them. "She was looking at the scar," he explained. For the first time, his voice sounded a bit defensive.

"Was she going to kiss it to make it better?" Tureden asked, sarcastically. "She was certainly going to kiss you."

"That is enough, Tureden," Thranduil said quietly. This was not what he came into the Hall to discuss. It was his son's personal affair and had no business being discussed in the Hall or anywhere else.

Legolas did not hear him. "Yes, she was," he shot back. "But you were being so intrusive that she likely will never speak to me again now." Legolas pointed at his father. "It is my understanding that the king dismissed Tulus for much less when he treated my naneth similarly when they were courting..."

"Enough, Legolas," Thranduil repeated.

"And then, when my friends and I were going to the barn to go riding..." Legolas continued.

"The barn that houses the warriors horses," Tureden spoke over him again. "You are not a warrior. You have no business taking those horses..."

"Again, as I told you then, I am allowed to ride the horses in that barn after training is over..."

"Nonsense!" Tureden exclaimed. "What would the warriors do if they needed horses--for an incident like this, for example--after you and your friends emptied half the barn..."

"Enough!" This time Thranduil's voice echoed in the Hall.

Both Legolas and Tureden turned to him automatically, mouths pressed closed, expressions still angry.

Thranduil let the silence hang over the Hall for several moments before he spoke. When he did he glanced at Conuion. "Obviously, there is quite a bit that we need to discuss. The lot of you--sit. Now."

He watched as his family members took their normal places at the meeting table, leaving Conuion, Colloth and Tureden to sit at its opposite end. Legolas sat stiffly. Thranduil stifled an angry snort. Legolas had some reason to be unhappy with his guard. Thranduil would grant that. But he was in a world of trouble and did not even appear to recognize it. He shook his head. First things first. He turned to Tureden to put a quick end to irrelevant arguments.

"I gather that you are under the impression that Legolas and his cousins are not allowed to swim in the pools by the mountain or borrow horses from the stable," he said in a quiet voice.

"Or game at the Oak," Legolas interjected.

Tureden nodded. "It is illegal for anyone but warriors to walk on the mountain that houses the stronghold. Only warriors are allowed to use those horses. And I know you do not approve of the Oak any more than I do. I have heard you say it a thousand times."

Thranduil sighed. "The mountain that houses the stronghold is indeed out of bounds. For most people. But I have long instructed the Palace Guard to allow members of my family to use the pools there. You know the queen and I use them, because you have guarded us there. You must not have been aware that others in the family do as well, including Legolas and, when he is present, his friends. As for the horses, I gave Legolas permission to exercise my stallion or to borrow horses from the warriors' barn for his friends, provided they do so in the evening when training is over and there are plenty of horses available. And I also agreed with him that he may game at the Oak, but not gamble there himself. He feels the contests help him build camaraderie with the warriors. Frankly, I do not quite believe that is necessary, nor do I approve, but I recognize that he is too old for me to govern every aspect of his life. Assuming he does not disgrace my House--and I trust he will not--I remain silent on that topic."

Tureden stared at Thranduil, obviously shocked.

"So you see, I am not a liar, Tureden," Legolas said into the silence.

Thranduil looked at Legolas reprovingly. "There is no reason to treat a misunderstanding so harshly, Legolas. Tureden made reasonable assumptions that happened to be incorrect. You might have simply told him that he was mistaken and avoided these problems."

"I did," Legolas answered. "Repeatedly. The last time I did, when I told him that I was allowed to game at the Oak, he flatly accused me of lying. Loudly enough for both Lanthir and the Gate Guards to hear him."

Thranduil spun around and turned a glare on Tureden that was so fierce, it brought the guard instantly to his feet.  "Did I understand that correctly? You called my son a liar? Publicly?"

Tureden's throat bobbed up and down. "I did say that, my lord," he admitted. "I thought the claim that he was allowed to go anywhere near the Oak was absurd..."

"May I ask how you responded to that, Legolas?" Thranduil asked without taking his eyes off Tureden. "Especially since it was said in a public forum."

"There was little I could do. Tureden refused to listen to me. I only told him that I would not tolerate such accusations and I walked away," Legolas responded. "Everyone there knew I was telling the truth. Lanthir has watched me take part in archery contests hundreds of times. And the guards at the Gates have competed with me at least that many times."

Thranduil snorted. "That is a much milder reaction than the one I would make should you ever dare to question my honesty, Tureden." He stood, signaling everyone else at the table to remain seated, and faced off with Tureden. "Of course, when you question my son's honesty--the son that I raised--you do question my own honesty, do you not? How can you believe me to be honorable if the son I raised tells such outrageously obvious lies?"

"My lord," Tureden pleaded, voice reduced to a whisper. "Of course I do not question your honor. Legolas is a child. Children are not always honest. It is their nature..."

"I do not know what your childhood was like, Tureden, but allow me to assure you that lying is not in my son's nature. Nor, for your reference, is it in the nature of my foster sons. You may trust anything that they say with as much confidence as you would place in anything that I said. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, my lord."

Thranduil swung on Legolas. "On your feet," he ordered.

Legolas stood, eyes widening.

"Tell me, Legolas, how do I reconcile the claim I just made with the fact that you gave your word, to your king and to your guard, that you would obey that guard in matters of your safety, but then you ignored your guard's orders and went out alone?"

Legolas tensed, gaze straight in front of him. "You cannot, obviously," he replied. "I was wrong to leave the stronghold without Tureden."

Thranduil nodded. "Let us be certain that we have identified everything that was wrong with that decision," he said. "For example, I do not believe that the Gate Guards would let you leave the stronghold alone."

Legolas looked back at his father, clearly surprised.

"And even if they would, I know that if Lanthir had seen you leave, he would have called for a guard to go after you. Is that what happened? Did Lanthir or the Gate Guards find Tureden and that is how he came to be at the Oak dueling with you after he initially refused to escort you there?"

Tureden was shaking his head, confused. "That is a very good question, my lord. No, no one told me Legolas came out. It was insubordination for Lanthir to let Legolas out after I ordered him not to, but it is dereliction of duty to let him leave the stronghold without any guard when we have all been warned to look out for four people intent on murdering the king's family."

As Tureden spoke, Galithil darted a quick glance at his cousin and then looked resolutely at the tapestry behind the throne, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. Legolas, on the other hand, stared at his guard, his expression increasingly panicked in response to accusations like insubordination and dereliction. It seemed Legolas was only now catching on to his mistakes.

Thranduil himself did not quite understand the accusation of insubordination, but never mind that now. It was not the point. "Shall I instruct Tureden to discipline Lanthir for those offenses, Legolas?" he asked.

"Certainly not," Legolas replied promptly.

Tureden snorted. "I do not need an order from the king to reprimand the guards under my command. Lanthir's actions will certainly be addressed."

Thranduil remained silent, looking at his son.

Legolas shook his head. "Clearly you already know what happened, my lord. I have no idea what you want me to say. I am not certain what I am permitted to say in this company."

That made Tureden's eyebrows go up.

"It hardly matters what I would permit you to say and to whom, does it, Legolas?" Thranduil said quietly. "Your actions have already determined what I must now do. My choices are to allow Tureden to discipline Lanthir for something he will certainly protest that he did not do and allow Lanthir to appear to be a liar. Or I can tell Tureden to not discipline Lanthir, an order Tureden will not understand. Or I can give Tureden, and everyone else involved, a truthful explanation for your mysterious appearance through the Gates this evening--both the Gate Guards and Lanthir marveled at that."

Legolas closed his eyes.

"Since you put me in the position to make this decision, I am asking your advice on how to manage it."

"Thanduil," Lindomiel whispered.

Thranduil waved his hand. "No, my lady, do not interfere. This is not a family matter." Thranduil was aware of Lindomiel's shocked reaction to that rebuke. He ignored it, gaze fixed on Legolas.
 
"The existence of a passage out of this stronghold is a matter of widespread speculation, my lord," Legolas replied after a moment, his voice almost a whisper. "Its precise location is the important information and that is not compromised. It is possible to explain...this. Without doing any more than confirming the existence of the passage."

"Was that your plan when you used that passage, Legolas? To tell people you used one, but not tell them where it is?"

"I..." he began, but managed no more.

Thranduil watched Legolas take several deep breaths. He seemed to have a good deal of trouble even doing that. It was almost enough to drive Thranduil to end this here, as Lindomiel obviously wanted. To send Legolas to his room. He snorted angrily to himself. This was not a prank that could be corrected by sending Legolas to his room!

"I confess that I did not think my actions through thoroughly enough to realize that anyone would find my appearance at the Oak surprising, my lord. I did not plan any explanation for it," Legolas finally replied.

"Well, I will agree with you that you did not think," Thranduil said, no longer bothering to conceal his anger. "What if one of Manadhien's servants was watching the stronghold in order to be ready to help Glilavan and saw you using that passage? One might have seen you. They are here, certainly. Lagril's body is evidence enough of that. And I do not believe for a moment that Lagril was alone. What if Pelin or Fuilin or Mauril saw you? And what if we do not catch them and they take that information back to Manadhien? She is allied with the very orcs that passage would be used to escape if the Gates are ever compromised. I have been trapped in a stronghold by my enemy before. I do not care to be again. That is why I had that passage delved. Not to provide errant children with a convenient means to evade the orders of their parents. Or their guards. Using it for that purpose compromises the security of this stronghold and endangers the lives of the people in this realm that it is intended to protect. I was under the obviously mistaken impression that you understood that, else I would not have entrusted you with the knowledge that I did."

"My lord," Hallion whispered.

Thranduil waved him to silence as he had Lindomiel.

"You are right, of course," Legolas said, voice rough. "There is nothing I can say, my lord. 'I am sorry' does not alter the damage that was done if I was seen by the wrong eyes."

"You are correct that it does not," Thranduil answered. "I am astonished with you Legolas. I have never seen you use such poor judgment and I would never have expected it. Tell me, right now, what was in your head to justify this?"

"My lord," Lindomiel said. "Enough. You have confirmed the dangers that you must address. Analyzing motivations now is not necessary. It wastes time that could better be used searching. Finish this conversation in the morning, when you are both...rested."

But Legolas shook his head. "I cannot justify it. There is no excuse. It was a reckless action and there is no other way to describe it," he said.

Thranduil glared at Legolas a long moment. Legolas, in turn, kept his gaze fixed on the floor. Lindomiel and Hallion were both looking at him sympathetically. Again Thranduil was tempted to give in and send Legolas to his room.

"My lord, there may be some explanation why the child would feel compelled to...use such a passage, should one exist," Tureden said into the silence.

Thranduil frowned and looked at Tureden. "He is not a child. He is old enough to serve my court. And for this lack of judgment, he will be old enough to face it."

Legolas drew and released another deep breath.

"Well, what is the explanation?" Thranduil demanded when Tureden only stared at him, obviously shocked.

"When Legolas and I...argued about whether or not he was permitted to go to the Oak...when I told him that he may not go, I doubted that he would obey that order. He had not obeyed any of the others I had given him since I was assigned to guard him. And I understand now I was wrong to make those orders," he hurried to say. "But when I thought I was within my rights to insist he not go to the Oak, believing he would not obey, I ordered Lanthir to not allow him to leave the family quarters. So, assuming this passage is in the family quarters, Legolas left the stronghold in the only manner available to him."

Thranduil's jaw dropped. That was why Tureden accused Lanthir of insubordination when he thought he had let Legolas leave the family quarters? Tureden had ordered Lanthir to...well, to imprison his son! Thranduil turned back to Legolas. No wonder he was furious with Tureden. Still... "That is no excuse. Legolas knows perfectly well that Lanthir would not have held him in the family quarters. The very idea is absurd."

"I do know that, my lord," Legolas said quietly. "But, Tureden had given Lanthir an explicit order..."

"An illegal one," Thranduil interrupted.

"Maybe. That is for you to judge and not me. Lanthir was told, by his officer, that he was required to stop me if I tried to leave the family quarters, much less the stronghold. I did not feel comfortable putting him in the position to have to choose between obeying his commanding officer and obeying me. I am not of age. I do not truly have the right to expect anyone's obedience. Everyone gives it to me, especially when you have set me some duty, and then I do expect it, but otherwise, when it is given, it is a courtesy and nothing more. I know that. I thought that expecting Lanthir to obey me after he had been given a contradicting order would be an abuse of that courtesy."

Thranduil could not deny that he respected that reasoning. Still, it was no excuse. "Then you should have simply remained in the family quarters and spoken to me or the queen about the misunderstanding you had with your guard when one of us returned."

"I see that now, my lord," Legolas said. "Tureden and I had agreed to speak to you in the morning. I should have..." Legolas appeared to struggle for a word. His mouth formed the word 'endured' before he cut himself off. "I should have stayed in the family quarters until then," he finally finished.

"I doubt I could have born to be forcibly imprisoned immediately after escaping the men that held me," Lindomiel said in a very soft voice. "I could hardly abide being inside the stronghold of my own free will after that incident. It felt too...enclosing. To have the choice to stay or go taken from me? I would not have born that well."

As it always did when he was reminded of any difficulty his wife had been forced to experience, Thranduil felt his blood freeze in response to that statement. Surely, Legolas had not truly.... He looked at his son in time to see him nod once at his mother. For a brief moment, before Legolas managed to rein in his expression, he saw...it could only be described as raw panic flash in his eyes at the suggestion of being held against his will. After all Legolas had suffered recently...

Thranduil closed his eyes. He heard Tureden whispering an apology to Legolas. How it was received, Thranduil did not see.

"Enough," he said quietly.

He remained silent, eyes still closed, for a long moment. Then he shook himself into motion--he shrugged off the formal robe he was wearing, draped it over his chair and leaned across the table, reaching for his weapons where Conuion had placed them. He picked up the leather jerkin and mail the servant had brought, unwilling to argue over wearing it. He dropped the jerkin on the table and started to put on the mail, turning it over in his hand to find its fastenings. As he did, he faced Legolas to tell him to go back to his room. They would finish this discussion after he searched for Manadhien's servants.

Legolas's expression stayed that order. He either was making no effort to hide his shame, or he was failing miserably. But that was not what caught Thranduil's attention. Legolas's gaze was focused on the mail in his father's hands, as it had been earlier in the antechamber, and he was obviously debating with himself if he dared to speak.

Thranduil could not deny that if anyone else privy to the knowledge that Legolas had abused was standing before him, the very least he would demand in recompense would be that they go with him to hunt down any enemy that might have benefited from their lack of judgment. Since it was his son--the son this enemy had tried to take from him only a few days past--Thranduil found himself hesitating. Preferring the option of sending Legolas to his room.

"My lord," Legolas finally said, "please let me help search for Pelin. Allow me to do something..."

"No!" Lindomiel exclaimed, cutting him off.

"My lady, I must do something to redress the damage that I have done," Legolas whispered to her.

"It is too dangerous, Legolas," Lindomiel replied, voice pleading.

Legolas turned from her to Thranduil. "Please, my lord," he repeated.

Thranduil made his decision. "Tureden, go get Legolas's sword," he ordered.

Lindomiel's only reaction was to go very still.

Thranduil tossed the mail to Legolas. "Put that on," he said, pulling the leather jerkin on over his own shirt. Then, dragging his quiver towards him by its strap, he turned to Conuion. "I want as many of the Guard to come with us as is available," he ordered.

Galithil stood and grasped Legolas's wrist as he worked to remove his quiver to put on the mail.

"I want to do this, Galithil," Legolas said quietly. "I owe it."

Tureden finally obeyed the king's original order and moved off to fetch Legolas's sword.

"Hallion, tell Glilavan's escort that they will not be leaving tonight," Thranduil ordered.

"Yes, my lord," he replied. Like Lindomiel, his eyes were on Legolas.

"My lord, I will go with you," Galithil said, speaking quickly, so he could not be interrupted. As he did, he picked up Legolas's quiver and held it out of his reach. "Legolas cannot go. He re-injured his ribs sparring with Tureden. He could not possibly defend himself."

"I defended myself perfectly well against Demil with cracked ribs," Legolas retorted. "I shot Lagril out of the tree tonight..."

"I have had broken ribs. I know how painful they are. Prove you can defend yourself. Draw your bow again," Galithil challenged, tilting the quiver towards Legolas, offering him an arrow. "Right now. If you can, I will sit down."

Legolas glared at him. Then he yanked an arrow from his quiver. In an eye blink, he sent it into the dead center of the back of one of the scribe's chairs across the Hall. Thranduil looked from it, vibrating in the chair, to Legolas's face, contorted in pain, but still determined.

"Sit," Legolas commanded, hand out, expecting his quiver to be returned.

Galithil did not sit. Nor did he turn over Legolas's quiver. Aradunnon's son, Thranduil thought.

"There is no point in you searching, Galithil," Thranduil said. "You would not recognize any of the people we are hunting. Legolas will, else I would not risk taking him. He will be safe with me and the Guard." He gestured for Galithil to surrender the quiver as he stepped closer to Legolas, speaking so only he could hear him. "You will obey me and every member of the Guard as you would obey the Training officers. No matter what you are ordered to do, whether you understand the reasoning for it or disagree with it, you will do it. Instantly. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, my lord," Legolas answered swiftly.

"Galithil is correct? You re-injured your ribs sparring with Tureden?"

Legolas nodded. "I did not want to fight him. I honestly was not certain I could lift the sword." He paused and looked at his father. "I still am not," he confessed. "But I did manage the duel. Well enough to hit Tureden once. And my ribs do not hurt that badly. I could make that shot again," he nodded towards the arrow in the scribe's chair. "Not quickly. Not many more times. But I could do it."

"These guards and I are going to make sure Manadhien's servants remain far away from you, if we see one," Thranduil replied. "You will not be fighting any of them with blade or bow if I can help it. But you might recognize Pelin and we would not. That is what I need from you."

Legolas nodded again. "I will do it, my lord. I want to go. I want to do what little I can to make amends for this."

"So you shall," he said. He patted his shoulder and looked back at Conuion. He had called Pendurion and Belloth into the Hall. Colloth was standing with them. Even Lanthir had been called off his duty at the doors to the family quarters. Conuion nodded at Thranduil to signal the Guard was ready.

Tureden ran back into the room and straight to Legolas, sword in hand. Legolas took it and fastened it around his waist, grimacing slightly as he twisted to do so.

Thranduil turned a glare on Tureden. He was not done with him yet.

Legolas quietly kissed his mother's cheek and told her not to worry.

"Let us go see what we can find," Thranduil said.

*~*~*

meleth -- love
adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum

We must walk open-eyed into that trap, with courage, but small hope for ourselves. For, my lords, it may well prove that we ourselves shall perish utterly in a black battle far from the living lands; so that even if Barad-dûr be thrown down, we shall not live to see a new age. But this, I deem, is our duty. And better so than to perish nonetheless – as we surely shall, if we sit here – and know as we die that no new age shall be.

Gandalf, Return of the King

Chapter 5: To comply with one's duty, regardless how difficult

Crouched low on the branch--a position that soon would become unbearably painful--Legolas followed Colloth around the slender trunk of the beech they currently occupied, Tureden at his heels and Lanthir somewhere above him. They had tracked the faint trail Legolas had left earlier while hurrying to the Oak--a bent blade of grass here, a slight indentation in a muddy patch there--until they were nearly to the northern side of the base of the mountain. Nearly to the cave that held the hidden door.

Legolas carefully watched where Colloth grasped the branch of the next tree and placed his hand in exactly that spot once Colloth stepped forward. Since he was a very young child, Legolas had made a game with his cousins and uncles and aunts of moving silently through the forest. Since he was deemed old enough to participate in the hunts for the festivals, that activity ceased to be a game and became a skill required to bring home game. One he thought he was fairly good at since he had brought a deer to every festival for the last ten years. Still, he had never seen anyone move as silently as they were now. Legolas would bet that if a deer were present on the mountain, Colloth could have crept directly over it, without it ever detecting his presence, and jumped onto its back. He had learned more about scouting in the last hour than he had in months of training exercises.

Of course, this was not an exercise. This was life or death. Most immediately, it was his own life or death. Legolas did not doubt that Manadhien's servants would target him and not his father should they be spotted. They knew it would kill Thranduil to see Legolas die, but much more painfully than if he were shot with an arrow himself, and that was what Manadhien wanted--to make Thranduil suffer. But more importantly than even that, this search represented life or death for the people of this realm. That passage must remain secret and Legolas was determined to see that it did so, no matter the cost.

They traveled through a half dozen more trees before Thranduil and Colloth, scouting a bit ahead and to the right of Legolas and his guards, both froze and signaled for Pendurion and Belloth to do the same. Thranduil's hand went instantly to his quiver. From his peripheral vision, Legolas saw that Tureden's did the same. Their arrows slid silently free and were nocked against their bowstrings.

Thranduil looked at Legolas, signaling him to remain in place.

Legolas acknowledged the signal, but did not understand it. He carefully searched the forest, but he did not see what his father saw.

"Directly in front of the king, about two dozen trees forward, in the beech whose leaves have just begun to turn. Three quarters of the way up, to the left of the trunk," Colloth breathed into his ear.

Legolas followed his directions and leaned forward slightly, squinting into the starless dark. There was a shadowy form in that tree. Something crouched in it. Definitely an elf. He had just turned his face away, looking behind himself when Legolas saw him. He could not identify him, but his father obviously had.

Thranduil stood slowly on his branch. Conuion, Pendurion and Belloth did the same, Conuion to shield the king; Belloth and Pendurion to fight. Thranduil, Pendurion and Belloth carefully extended their bows in front of them, arrows nocked, fingers on the string. They targeted the enemy.

Legolas drew a quiet, steadying breath. From this angle, at least, it appeared his father's shot was aimed at the elf's chest.

The shadow turned back around, looking intently at the trees where Thranduil and his guards were hidden.

Legolas tensed involuntarily. It was Mauril.

The king and his guards waited, perfectly still, holding their aim without drawing. Mauril's gaze passed over them and on to the west.

A gust of wind blew through the trees, making leaves rustle and branches knock together. Under the cover of that noise, Thranduil, Belloth and Pendurion simultaneously drew their bows. Mauril never moved. Never indicated he heard their bows bend.

The wind quieted.

They released.

"You there! Identify yourself," a voice shouted. The speaker was obscured by the curve of the mountain.

Mauril stood on his branch and ducked behind the trunk.

"That is one of them!" a familiar voice shouted--Anastor. "That is Mauril!"

Three arrows--the king's and his guards--flew past Mauril, through the empty space he had just occupied, causing him to flinch back. His head spun around and his eyes locked on Thranduil.

Conuion stepped fully in front of the king, drawing his sword. Thranduil's next arrow was already nocked.

Mauril whipped out an arrow and sent it straight at Conuion and Thranduil. Legolas's heart leapt to his throat, but Conuion and Thranduil jumped to another branch to evade the attack. In the time that took, Mauril made his escape, moving through the trees, zig-zagging back and forth, up and down from branch to branch, fleeing as swiftly as he could, straight up the rise of the mountain, as if he intended to climb over it. That was the only escape route available to him with the king on his western flank and the patrol approaching him from the northeast.

As Mauril's arrow sank into the trunk of their tree, Thranduil and his guards released another shot at him. Tureden loosed his nocked arrow as well. It sliced Mauril's leg, just above his knee, knocking him momentarily off balance, but not enough to throw him from the trees. At least one of the guard's arrows flew towards Mauril's shoulder. Thranduil's was aimed to strike him squarely between his shoulder blades.

Seeing the trajectory of his father's arrow, Legolas grimaced and looked away. At least the king would not been forced to stand in front of Mauril and kill him with his sword. An arrow seemed like a much more remote means of executing him. There was some blessing in that.

"Stop," the same voice that had ruined their initial shot called out.

"He does not escape under any circumstance," Thranduil ordered, loudly enough for his own guards and the patrol to all hear.

Legolas looked back at Mauril swiftly. There was no possibility both his father's shot and the guard's would have missed.

But Mauril was alive. He was struggling to right himself. He had been knocked from the branch he was on to the one below it, but he was still fleeing.

Legolas did not understand. His father's shot should have killed him. Then, through torn fabric, Legolas caught a glimpse of metal. Mauril was wearing mail. All the guards and the king took another shot at him, this time targeting his lower body. The moment Mauril heard the first arrow release, he leapt up to a higher branch and then dodged left and right. If any of the arrows hit him, they did little more than cut him. He was not slowed.

Arrow nocked, Thranduil wasted no more time--he gave chase, Conuion, Pendurion and Belloth surrounding him. The patrol was a few steps  behind them.

Legolas drew an arrow and started through the trees after Mauril as well.

"Legolas, stop," Tureden said.

"Legolas," Colloth called. "I am not certain the king intended for you to engage any of Manadhien's servants."

Legolas ignored them. The king had said Mauril was not to escape and that was the order he was obeying. Mauril had been sitting right above the entrance to the cave that held the secret door. He had certainly discovered that cave and was probably waiting for Legolas to come back to reveal the location of the door inside it. Legolas spared a moment to thank the Valar that he did not have the opportunity to re-enter the stronghold through that door. He would not have opened it for Mauril, no matter how he had been threatened. But still, what if Mauril had followed him into the cave at unawares and waited to plant an arrow in his back until after he opened the door. Legolas tried to breath. The door at the other end of the tunnel still would have been closed. Mauril would not have gained access to the stronghold unless he had managed to follow Legolas into the tunnel, and even as careless as Legolas had been, he could never have been inattentive enough to allow that to go unnoticed. Even so, the mere thought of how close Mauril had come to his family--his cousins and uncles and aunts...his mother--all because Legolas had wanted to go to the Oak!

Legolas's ribs screamed as he caught a branch with his left hand to steady himself after a particularly long jump to the next tree. He dismissed the pain and pressed forward. In his peripheral vision, he saw Galuauth, Anastor and the two warriors from the patrol pacing him to his left. They were all several trees back from his father's position and his father was a good distance back from Mauril.

Mauril fled, heedlessly leaping from tree to tree, barely catching branches, risking slender limbs. He had nothing to lose and he obviously knew it.

Thranduil signaled for Belloth and Pendurion to ready, but hold, another shot as they continued their pursuit. When they had, Thranduil loosed his own arrow. In response, as he had before, Mauril leapt up higher into the tree and, with his next step, jumped to the left. Another signal sent Pendurion and Belloth's arrows flying, anticipating Mauril's attempts to evade them. One arrow struck Mauril low in the back. His mail protected him, but the impact sent him sprawling. In the time it took him to right himself, Thranduil and his guard had gained precious ground. Better still, when Mauril again began to run, he did so with a distinct limp. The other arrow must have done some damage to his leg.

Mauril's chances of escape were quickly diminishing. He was wounded. With every step, his limp worsened. Blood stained the branch Legolas had just run across. Bright red stained the ground below. Mauril would not be able to keep up this pace forever. They only had to run him down like a wounded deer.

Mauril suddenly slowed dramatically, looked side to side, and then veered left, heading straight down the eastern slope of the mountain.

Thranduil and his guards fluidly cut across to follow without pause, again shortening the distance between them and their prey. Legolas, Anastor and their guards did the same. Legolas frowned, trying to figure out why Mauril had turned--what advantage he hoped to gain. Then he heard water. Rushing water. The stream that ran down from the ridge of the mountain! It was already wide at this point in its journey to join the Forest River. Mauril must have feared trying to jump across it in the trees with his wounded leg.

Legolas smiled grimly. Mauril was now caught, though he may not yet realize it. He had made a bad choice going downslope. If he thought crossing the stream looked difficult, wait until he saw the cliff he was running straight towards!

That cliff was wide. It ran a third the breadth of the mountain. The stream poured over it, forming an upper and lower falls. The upper falls were so wide, a felled tree would not span them. They were impossible for a uninjured elf to cross. Mauril would never manage it in his current condition. And they were too tall to allow escape--they dropped as far as the trees were tall, pooling in a ledge on the mountain. The ledge was just wide enough for a few trees to grow on and for the water to gather before emptying to form an even taller lower falls.

As Thranduil and his guards drove Mauril straight forward, the king signaled the warriors to split away from them, preparing to cut Mauril off when he realized he was running towards the cliff. Mauril would be trapped between the cliff, waterfall, Thranduil and the warriors. They had him.

Mauril ran, headlong, for several more minutes, closely pursued. Then, he stopped dead, waved his arms, leaning forward wildly, before throwing himself back. For a moment he clutched the branch he stood on, staring straight down.

He must have found the cliff, Legolas thought. He did not have enough breath to laugh, else he would have.

Mauril spun around and faced his pursuers. He raised and drew his bow.

Conuion leapt between Mauril and the king. Tureden did the same with Legolas.

Mauril released arrows in quick succession, forcing Thranduil and Conuion to stop and dodge behind the trunks of the trees they occupied. Belloth and Pendurion returned Mauril's attack, drawing his attention to themselves and driving him to look for cover. He edged against a rock jutting up near the edge of the cliff, next to the head of waterfall, and continued releasing arrows.

Colloth and Tureden's hands seized Legolas's arms, one on either side of him, arresting his forward momentum and preventing him from approaching Mauril's position as closely as the king and his guards had. They pulled him behind the wide trunk of an old oak. As the warriors from the patrol ran by them, Galuauth deposited Anastor, protesting, next to him. Legolas shook his head at his friend and Anastor loosed a low growl, but did not attempt to escape. Instead, they peered around either side of the tree to watch. From this angle, they did not have a shot at Mauril worth taking, but it did not matter. Others did and Mauril could not escape. If nothing else, eventually he would run out of arrows and then this would be finished.

At a signal from Thranduil, the warriors, Belloth and Pendurion shifted position, maneuvering to Mauril's flanks, to better pin him in place and to find a more suitable angle to take him down. Mauril targeted them and Thranduil as best he could, but the trees did not ally with anyone threatening the king. They hid him, the guards and warriors from Mauril's attacks well.

For several moments, the forest was silent save for the twang of bow strings and the sound of arrows striking trees or rock.

A loud hoot sounded from directly behind Legolas, up-slope and from the north flank of the battle--from the direction Mauril would have to flee if he wanted to skirt around the cliff and continue his escape.

Involuntarily, Legolas looked over his shoulder. So did Tureden. From the corner of his eye, Legolas saw his father turn, but he did so fully, even bringing his bow around to bear on the noise.

Legolas experienced a flash of surprise and fear that his father had turned his back on Mauril, but he had no time to ponder the wisdom of that action. No sooner had the hoot faded than something struck Legolas hard over his shoulder blade. The next thing Legolas knew, he was landing on the ground hard enough to knock all the air from his lungs. Between the sharp pain in his back and ribs, he struggled to breath. His vision blurred and somewhere far away, he heard someone screaming his name. His father maybe. The forest around him began to disappear.

Hands seized his arms and pulled him up, dragging him. Something hard bit into his back. Legolas twisted away from it, fighting to avoid the pain.

"Be still," Tureden snapped.

Legolas was pulled forward and pressed, as if in an embrace, against someone's chest. Then the grip on his upper arms was released and the hands slid to his back, running over it firmly and then pressing over a painful place on his shoulder blade. He groaned involuntarily and the effort made his head swim again--it was a waste of breath, Legolas realized and clamped his mouth shut.

"It did not penetrate. The mail is intact," Tureden's voice called loudly next to his ear, as Legolas was pushed backwards again, against the hard surface. A tree, he foggily realized.

He slumped against it, finally managing to draw a full breath and to make sense of what was happening. An arrow. He must have been struck by an arrow. He made an effort to draw himself up to sit straight. His ribs and shoulder screamed, so he immediately abandoned the attempt. He heard whistling and thunking sounds all around himself. He also heard the creaks of bows being drawn. He forced himself to focus. He was on the ground, propped up against a tree, facing up-slope. Tureden, Lanthir and Colloth stood crouched in front of him, shielding him from the front as the tree did from behind, shooting as quickly as they could nock their bows. Anastor and Galuauth were next to Tureden, doing the same.

Legolas drew a steadying breath and looked past them. On the rise above him he saw Fuilin and Pelin, partially obscured behind two trees, raining arrows down upon them and his father's position.

No sooner did he spot them than Tureden slammed backward, into him. Legolas cursed. The weight of Tureden's body brought on another wave of pain and Legolas struggled to push him away. "For pity's sake, Tureden," Legolas moaned.

Colloth's face filled his vision, dragging Tureden to the side.

Legolas looked from Colloth's frown to his guard and he gasped. An arrow protruded from Tureden's chest. Legolas pulled himself to kneel facing Tureden.

"Stay where you are, Legolas," Colloth ordered. As he spoke, he was inspecting Tureden's injury. Legolas did so also. The arrow was a hand's breadth under Tureden's collarbone. Tureden's face was contorted in pain, but he was bringing himself back under control, breathing deeply. The arrow must be too high to have hit his lung. That was very fortunate.

"I will survive, Colloth," he grunted. "Finish this before it finishes us."

Colloth nodded, spun to face up-slope and returned to the fight.

Legolas's brows drew sharply together and he again straightened his back, breathing into the pain until he could ignore it. Then he reached for an arrow and tried to analyze the battle around him. Colloth, Lanthir, Galuauth and Anastor were fully exposed in the interest of shielding Legolas and Tureden. They needed to find some shelter quickly, but that meant getting on the opposite side of the trees and they could not risk that because Mauril was shooting at them from that direction. Legolas edged to peek from behind the tree to see how Mauril was faring. When he did, he spotted the two warriors lying, unmoving, on the ground between himself and the king. Belloth was also wounded. Like Tureden, he was propped up against a tree trying but failing to hold still as he writhed in pain. An arrow protruded from his hip. Thranduil, partially obscured by a tree and partially by Conuion, was shooting at Fuilin and Pelin. Pendurion was alone in trying to keep Mauril pinned down. Mauril was trying to creep northward, towards his brother and Pelin.

"We need to get Mauril out of this fight so we do not have two fronts," Legolas said, nudging Anastor's leg.

"Very well," Anastor responded. He swung around and started loosing arrows on Mauril.

Colloth glanced over his shoulder at Mauril. "Galuauth, see if you and Anastor can bring enough arrows to bear on Mauril to keep him from shooting. If they can, Lanthir, use that cover to get into a better position finish him. Go closer to the river. Give him two flanks to fight on."

With Galuauth and Anastor joining Pendurion to shoot at any exposed body part, Mauril was forced to hunker down behind a large tree on the edge of the cliff. Lanthir took his opportunity and dashed towards the river, ducking behind trees and rock for cover. Legolas followed him.

"Legolas, no!" Colloth called, but to no avail. Legolas and Lanthir had already sprinted half a dozen trees away before Colloth spoke.

Mauril caught sight of their movement and immediately figured out their intent. He risked being hit himself to lean out enough to shoot at them. An arrow whistled by Legolas's neck, reminding him to crouch down to make a smaller target. Then, Mauril's attack faltered for a brief moment. Legolas glanced at him in time to see him flinching from a slicing cut across the top of his bow arm made by one of Pendurion's arrows.

Legolas froze where he was. He had a shot, though only at Mauril's mail-protected body. Grimacing as he drew his bow, Legolas took it, sending an arrow at Mauril's chest, hoping the impact would stun him badly enough that he and Lanthir could capture him, or at least throw him off balance so that he would expose some more useful body part to a second attack from Lanthir.

Mauril's mail held, as Legolas expected. The arrow did not penetrate, but it did knock him onto his backside. Mauril dropped his bow to try to steady himself. Then his eyes widened. Mauril's hands spread out behind him, searching for support, but did not find it. They connected with nothing but open air. Mauril was too close to the edge of the cliff. He teetered backwards, struggling for balance.

Immediately after Mauril hit the ground, Lanthir, loosed several arrows in quick succession, all targeting the same point on Mauril's shoulder--an attempt to penetrate the mail. It protected him, but the force of the impact was too much. Mauril sprawled backwards. Too late, he grasped for any handhold in front of him--anything to anchor himself--but found nothing. He tumbled, backwards over the cliff.

Fuilin called his name and Legolas felt a stab of pity at the anguish in his voice. He looked back at him. Fuilin had rushed forward into the open, staring in horror at his brother's disappearing form.

Thranduil did not hesitate to take advantage of the opportunity that action offered. He loosed a volley of arrows, each hitting a single point on Fuilin's chest squarely. He was obviously wearing mail also. He went down, clutching his chest. Most of the arrows fell to the ground next him, but one penetrated, hanging loosely from Fuilin's body. Thranduil charged towards him and Pelin, followed closely by Pendurion and Conuion. Pelin pulled Fuilin to his feet, tore the arrow out of him, and began to drag him off, fleeing.

Legolas's gaze darted to Colloth, Anastor and Galuauth. Anastor's gaze was firmly fixed on the cliff where Mauril had disappeared. Galauath was still with Anastor, but his attention was torn between him and the small number of guards that had accompanied the king. Colloth also appeared concerned, but he turned to the wounded, first checking Tureden again and then jogging over to look at Belloth. He glanced at the two warriors as he passed them, but went by without pause. Dead, Legolas concluded and he closed his eyes for a moment, opening them in time to see his father disappear in the shadows of the trees in pursuit of Fuilin and Pelin.

Legolas stood and jogged over to the edge of the cliff. Lanthir followed him.

"Carefully!" he warned, grabbing Legolas's arm and holding him back from looking over the edge.

"He did not survive that fall, Lanthir," Legolas said, pulling away from him.

"Let me be certain of that," Lanthir replied, and he cautiously peered over the edge of the cliff.

Anastor came up along Legolas, Galuauth by his side. "Is he dead?" he asked.

Legolas started to nod, certain that Lanthir would see Mauril's broken body on the rocks below.

"I do not see him," Lanthir answered, now leaning over the edge. "He must have fallen into the water."

Legolas would not be held back any longer. He and Anastor both looked over the cliff, examining the water and then the underbrush on the ledge for any sign of Mauril's body.

"I do not see him either," Anastor said.

Legolas held his breath, searching. He might have fallen into the water and drowned. He might have been hit so hard that he was knocked back so far as to fall past the ledge and all the way to the base of the lower falls. But they needed to be certain of that.

"Look!" Anastor said. "Is that water on that rock there?" he pointed at a rock near the very base of the cliff--one too far away from the pool to have been splashed by the waterfall.

"It appears to be," Galuauth answered, dropping to his hands and knees to lean over for a better view.

"There," Legolas called, pointing into the underbrush. A moving form could just be detected, crawling away from the pool to the edge of the ledge.

All four of them drew an arrow, aimed it at the movement and released. Legolas caught a glimpse of tunic, sliding over the side of the ledge, moving faster in response to the rain of arrows.

"He is dead now. The fall to the bottom is too far to survive, and he would not hit the water from there," Galuauth said.

Legolas and Anastor both immediately shook their heads. "There is a path down there," Anastor said.

"It is steep, but we could manage it as young children. Mauril could do it, even wounded," Legolas added, looking from Anastor to Lanthir. "He is going to escape."

"No he is not," Anastor said, taking a few running steps back from the ledge and lining himself up with a likely tree below.

Legolas immediately recognized what Anastor intended. As determined as he was to stop Mauril, he hesitated to follow him. That jump was something he had done only a few times, when he was much younger, and, at that, only on a dare from Anastor. He thought it was insane then. Doing it now, with broken ribs...

Anastor shouldered his bow and ran straight at the edge of the cliff. Lanthir and Galuauth gaped at him a moment before both shouting at him to stop. He did not. He launched himself off the cliff, flew through the air for a long moment and then crashed into the tree below, catching himself on a thin branch that bent precipitously with his weight. He quickly righted himself and started fast down the tree.

Legolas set his jaw and backed up several steps as well.

"Legolas, do not dare!" Tureden ordered.

In his peripheral vision, Legolas saw his guard pointing at him and struggling to stand. Even Tulus would be doing the same, Legolas knew. "Mauril cannot be allowed to escape," he replied quietly, though the forest was quiet enough that his voice was clear for all to hear.

"Legolas, no," Lanthir said, taking a step towards him.

Legolas ran at the cliff and jumped. He flew through open air for an entire, long, gasping breath, forward and down. The moment he felt branches slapping against him, he caught the tip of one. It would not hold him, but it bent, drawing him in and slowing his fall. He rode it down until, with his other hand, he could catch a more solid hold onto the middle of a different branch. It also bent violently. Legolas struggled to maintain his hold on it as his ribs screamed in protest at this exertion. His feet made solid contact on a branch below. Legolas fought to find his balance and finally managed to.

Just as he started to climb down, the tree swayed, forcing Legolas to stop and clutch his branch. Lanthir had made the jump after him. He grabbed a tree limb, lost his hold and scrabbled for a new one, sliding mercifully inwards, towards the trunk. Its solid mass slowed his fall, perhaps a bit too abruptly, but still, he also managed to find his balance. Once he had, he clung to the trunk for a long moment. Galuauth followed him in much the same manner. Anastor was already on the ground and running towards the trail down to the lower falls by the time they all started a fast descent themselves.

As he climbed, Legolas heard crashing sounds--branches snapping, leaves rustling fiercely--like a panicked deer crashing through the brush. He tried to locate the source of the noise as he hurried down his tree. Finally he spotted it--Tureden!. He had made the jump to follow him and was dropping too quickly from branch to branch, in the upper-most crown of the next tree over. Legolas watched and willed his guard to find a solid handhold. Tureden fell, in an only somewhat controlled manner, nearly half the distance from where he first leapt into the tree to a level equal to where Legolas had already managed to climb down, before fully righting himself. He paused a moment to locate Legolas. When he did, he pointed fiercely at the ground and started climbing himself. They all quickly reached the ledge.

Legolas immediately started to the trail.

"Legolas that was utterly insane," Tureden yelled as he ran to his side. "Lanthir and I both told you to stop."

Legolas did not stop walking, so Tureden dogged his steps. "And the king said that Mauril was not to escape under any circumstances," Legolas replied. "His order supersedes yours. Besides, I have made that jump before. I knew I could make it again. It is not that difficult..."

"Not that difficult!" Tureden repeated. "Colloth did not dare try it. I only did it because I am bound by my oath to follow you..."

"You are already injured in the service of that oath. Following me was what was insane. Lanthir was already with me...."

"Better Mauril escapes than you are killed pursuing him," Tureden said over him. "Do you honestly think the king would want him caught if it meant you had to die to do it?"

Legolas stopped at the head of the trail down to the base of the lower falls. Lanthir and Galuauth started down it, ahead of him, arrows nocked. Before following them, Legolas took a step closer to Tureden to speak into his ear. "Yes, I do think that, Tureden, in this instance. And I would give my life if it was necessary to stop him. That secret passage that I used--the tree we found Mauril in was right outside its door. He found it. I have no doubt of that. He was probably waiting for me to try to go back through it. As the king said in the Hall, the lives of the people in this realm that cannot fight--the people that would shelter in the stronghold against the enemy--might one day depend on that passage being a safe escape. By my carelessness, I compromised its location. By pursuing Mauril to prevent him from revealing its location, I am making sure that error is addressed. I am doing my duty. You do yours. Or turn me over to Lanthir if you are too badly injured to do it. But you will not argue with me about this and that is the end of it."

Tureden held Legolas's gaze for a long moment, glaring at him. Then he took a step back and nodded once.

Legolas turned and started down the trail, moving quickly to catch up with Anastor, the other guards and Mauril.

The path down was steep, with several switch-backs to make it passable. Legolas drew an arrow and searched the brush below him as constantly as he was able, given the difficulty of the descent, looking for Mauril. A few times, he glimpsed movement, so he knew Mauril was still ahead of them, but he only saw him very fleetingly--not well enough to target.

He was too far ahead, more than half way down the path. He would reach its bottom much sooner than Legolas, Anastor and the guards. If he disappeared into the forest, he would be very difficult to track over the rocky ground surrounding the stream. Legolas hoped he was still bleeding, both for the trail that would leave and for its potential to slow him down.

Watching below him for signs of Mauril, Legolas spotted a bit of the trail that was clear--no branches or trunks or rocks obscured his view of it. Or a shot to it. Legolas leaned over and searched for Mauril. He had not crossed that open portion of the trail. Legolas stopped, nocked an arrow and aimed, waiting to draw. With his injured ribs, he knew he could not hold his draw for long and he wanted to make this shot count.

Tureden saw what he was doing and did the same.

Legolas glanced at him. A fragment of the arrow that had hit him was still embedded in his flesh below his collarbone. Blood covered the front of his tunic.

"If you can shoot with broken ribs, I can with an arrow wound," Tureden said in reply to Legolas's skeptical expression.

Legolas only nodded.

Then it was Tureden's turn to look at Legolas sidelong. "When we hit him, since this trail is so narrow and steep, there is a good possibility he will fall to his death. Let me make this shot, Legolas. You do not want to bear the burden of such a deed and I do not want you to have to bear it."

Legolas shook his head and answered without taking his eyes off the rocks below. "Either we will kill him or we will capture him and the king will execute him. One way or the other, Mauril will be in Mandos before the sun rises. That is the king's judgment. That is what is necessary to protect this stronghold and the people it shelters. We are both charged to carry out the king's judgments and protect this realm and I do not fear to do so."

"Very well," Tureden whispered. "Remember he is wearing mail. We will disable him if we can and hope he does not fall. Aim for his hip or thigh if you can steady your shot well enough."

Again, Legolas nodded.

A moment later, Legolas saw motion in the thinning branches approaching the clear area. He targeted it. As soon as Mauril come into view, he aimed at a spot low on his hip, clenched his jaw as he drew his bow and loosed his arrow. Tureden's instantly followed, accompanied by a grunt. Both arrows struck their targets. Mauril contorted in pain, twisting and lurching sideways from the force of the impact. He lost his footing, scrabbled on the bare rock and then fell over backwards. They heard his body crashing through brush for several moments before the forest was silent again.

Legolas, Tureden on his heels, hurried down the trail, another arrow nocked, just in case. Anastor, Galuauth and Lanthir rushed ahead of them, picking their way down quickly but carefully. Legolas came upon them, arrows pointed at a still form caught on a low tree branch, hanging at an unnatural angle.

"He is dead," Lanthir said, lowering his bow.

Everyone else lowered theirs.

"Can you pull him down?" Legolas asked, speaking quietly.

Galuauth and Lanthir nodded. They climbed up onto the slope and reached for Mauril's legs, tugging him free of the tree and carrying him down to the trail. His head lolled back far more than normal. His neck was clearly broken from his fall. They laid him down and pulled the arrows from his body.

"That is two down, then," Anastor said with great satisfaction in his voice. "Lagril and Mauril. We should go the rest of the way down this trail and then double back north to see if we can help the king find Pelin and Fuilin." He stepped over Mauril's body without waiting for any response.

Legolas followed him before the guards could mount a protest.

"The elf with Fuilil--the one that would have killed you with that arrow had you not been wearing mail. That was Pelin?" Tureden asked when he caught up.

Legolas looked over his shoulder at him, eyebrow raised in response to Tureden's tone. "It was," he answered.

Tureden nodded. His expression gave Legolas the distinct impression that Pelin's face had just been permanently recorded in Tureden's memory. That same expression engendered in him just the smallest bit of pity for Pelin as Legolas swiftly concluded that Tureden would make a very bad enemy.

They reached the bottom of the lower falls and turned north, heading to the back of the stronghold--the direction in which Fuilin and Pelin had fled. As they walked along the base of the stronghold, they kept their attention focused up slope since they had been near the ridge of the mountain when they last saw them. They covered a distance half way back to the far northern side of the stronghold before they detected the soft sound of elven footfalls rustling in the leaf litter.

Tureden signaled Legolas to take cover. Legolas complied, quite pleased that his guard had not simply shoved him down. His ribs were now a constant, sharp pain. Tureden crouched next to him, between Legolas and the approaching noise. Lanthir joined him. Galauath and Anastor took up a position a few dozen paces across from them. Whoever was coming would pass between them. They waited and watched.

Thranduil and Conuion, weapons drawn, searching the underbrush, ran towards them. They froze and leapt behind a tree when they spotted the shadowy forms in front of them.

Tureden instantly called the signal used by the King's Guard and stepped openly into view.

Thranduil lowered his bow and did the same. His gaze darted over the guards, Anastor and Legolas. Then he looked up at the ridge of the mountain, where he had left them and back at Legolas. "How did you get down here?" he demanded.

"Over the cliff, through the trees," Legolas answered. "Mauril went over the cliff as well and survived the fall. He was escaping down the mountain. We had to stop him. And we did. He is dead," he added in explanation when his father's jaw dropped in outright horror. Thranduil's mouth worked, but he did not manage to say anything. Instead, he glared at Tureden.

The lieutenant of the King's Guard returned Thranduil's gaze evenly. "Mauril no longer represents a threat to the security of this stronghold. Is there anywhere else we should search to ensure no further threats exist, my lord?"

Thranduil stared at them and reached to cup Legolas's cheek. His hand slid from there to his shoulder, which he grasped firmly for a long moment. "The elf that was with Fuilin--that was Pelin?" he asked.

Legolas and Anastor nodded. "It was."

"He is also dead. He and Fuilin must have split up. We had them both in our sights and then, suddenly, we did not see Fuilin. Pendurion and some more of the Palace guard that we met went west to search for him. Conuion and I stayed on Pelin and brought him down. We were searching the eastern side of the stronghold to make sure Fuilin did not pass this way."

"Three of four. Very good," Anastor said softly.

"Indeed," Thranduil agreed, his smile as grim as Anastor's. "We need only to catch Fuilin and then we can end this." He turned back to Legolas. "You have done what I needed you to do here, and more. I want you and Anastor to go directly back into the stronghold," he ordered. "Inform Hallion what has happened and tell him and your naneth that I am searching a few more places before I can be satisfied the stronghold is secure. I will return inside once that is done. On your way in, ask one of the officers of the Palace Guard to collect Mauril, Pelin and Lagril's bodies. And then ask one of my Guard to escort Nestoreth to the stronghold to look at your ribs." He paused and looked at Tureden. "And Tureden's shoulder. Where are Colloth, Belloth and the two warriors that were with Anastor?"

"Still by the head of the waterfall, my lord," Tureden answered. "Colloth stayed with Belloth. The warriors are dead, I believe."

Thranduil frowned. "Send someone from the Palace Guard to help Colloth bring Belloth and the warriors down from the mountain as well," he said to Legolas.

Legolas hesitated, considering arguing that he be allowed to continue searching also.

"You are injured, Legolas," Thranduil said softly. "Since you would recognize Pelin, I was within my rights to ask you to help search for him despite that. It would not be just for me to ask more of you..."

"But I want..."

"Nor will I permit you to offer more. Neither I nor any of my captains allow injured warriors to continue fighting beyond immediate need. It is not right and worse, it can be dangerous. Both you and Tureden need to go inside. I will join you soon."

With obvious reluctance, Legolas conceded. "Yes, my lord." He took a step closer to his father. "You will look inside the cave? To determine how many of them were in there?" he whispered.

"Naturally," Thranduil answered. "I assume you walked straight out, so any other prints would not be yours?"

Legolas nodded.

"Go inside. Take Anastor with you," Thranduil ordered.

Offering him the shallow bow his ribs would allow, Legolas complied, gesturing for Anastor to follow. His friend rolled his eyes and loosed a loud sigh, but he did do as he was told.

*~*~*

Legolas set a fast pace around the eastern slope of the stronghold and back to the Green. He was careful to be very mindful of his surroundings even though he was walking on what should have been completely secure ground. He had made the mistake of assuming that once. He would not do so again. He complied with his father's request that he send the Palace Guard after Lagril, Pelin and Mauril's bodies and to help Colloth and Belloth. Then he went straight to the bridge to the stronghold.

"What news, my lord?" the Gate Guard asked as he straightened to attention when Legolas approached him.

The other guard that had stood with this one earlier took a few steps away from the door to the family quarters, where Conuion had repositioned him after moving Lanthir from that duty. He obviously hoped to hear the answer to that question as well.

By law, neither guard was supposed to distract himself from duty by talking. And since the stronghold itself might be threatened at the moment, Legolas considered answering by reminding them of that law. But, knowing what had happened was probably relevant to their duties. And besides, Hallion--who Legolas had been ordered to report to--along with Lindomiel and Legolas's cousins were already hurrying from the meeting table in the Hall into the antechamber to hear whatever it was that Legolas had to say. He might as well tell everyone at once.

"Mauril and Pelin are both dead. We saw Fuilin as well. The king and the rest of the Guard are still searching for him," he said loudly enough that everyone could hear. Then he proceeded to briefly recount all that had happened. As he did, he watched his mother and cousins stare in some horror at Tureden's wound. It was really a testament to the guard's endurance that he was still on his feet. Legolas knew he barely was and he had not been nearly as badly injured as Tureden. "Galuauth, could you please bring Nestoreth to the stronghold as the king requested?" he said once he finished his story.

"Yes, my lord," Galuauth replied and hurried back through the Gates.

The Gate Guards nodded their thanks to Legolas and turned their attention back to where it belonged.

At the same moment, Anastor started jogging off towards the door to the guest chambers. "I am going to tell nana what has happened," he said.

"And your adar, of course," Legolas replied, causing Anastor to groan and pick up his pace to avoid further comment. Legolas had no intention of fighting that battle. He had his own. He faced his mother, who was looking at him searchingly. "I am uninjured, nana. Thanks to Tureden and the other guards."

"And that mail," Tureden added under his breath.

Legolas cast him an exasperated glare when his mother's eyes widened. "Tureden and I are going to wait in the Hall for Nestoreth to look at his shoulder," he continued in an effort to distract her. "Once she is done with him, I will let her confirm my ribs are merely cracked again, listen to her lecture as politely as I can and promise to drink whatever vile potion she prescribes. There is no need for you to stay."  

Lindomiel laughed, though Legolas was not sure if she was laughing at his comment about Nestoreth's lecture and medicine or at his attempt to dismiss her. She merely turned to walk back into the Hall. Legolas stifled a sigh and followed her.

"At least New Foolish Tulus will be there to take his share of the blame for breaking your ribs this time," Berior said, aiming a dramatic glare at Tureden as he, Galithil and Eirienil went after them.

Legolas stopped dead upon hearing his cousin publicly repeat the name Langon had given Tureden. His eyes widened and his gaze flashed to Tureden to measure his reaction.

He made none at all, save to make his face expressionless.

Lindomiel and Hallion both turned as well. They looked from Berior to Legolas mildly, but with clear expectations.

Legolas felt heat rising in his cheeks. He had laughed at Langon's use of that name earlier today. It seemed much less funny now. "Berior," he said quietly, keeping his tone even, "I must insist that you treat Tureden with respect. No cross looks at him, no harsh words."

"He broke your ribs, Legolas," Berior interrupted. "Of course I am cross with him. You should be too."

"Tureden did not know that he should not ask me to spar. I never told him my ribs were injured and I should have," Legolas replied, speaking more firmly.

Berior looked over Legolas's shoulder at Tureden and shrugged. "If that is how you feel about it, it is not my business to meddle in."

"Moreover, he does not have an arrowhead embedded in his shoulder because he was careless. He was wounded so that I would not be killed," Legolas added, trying to make some impression on Berior.

It worked. Berior pressed his lips together and looked down.

"And I do not want to hear anyone call him 'New, Foolish Tulus,'" Legolas continued. "Ever. Honestly, Berior, you had to have heard that from Anastor and Noruil. Surely you know better than to repeat something they say. Tureden once guarded the High King himself, adar told me. He is far from foolish."

Now Berior looked chagrinned. "That was disrespectful, true enough." He faced Tureden. "I do apologize, Tureden."

"It is forgotten," he replied, still looking straight forward.

Berior looked regretfully at Legolas.

Legolas steeled himself and faced his guard himself. "I apologize also, Tureden. Sincerely. I would never have tolerated for a moment anyone, even Langon, speaking to Tulus in the manner that I allowed him to speak to you. And I laughed when he said it. That was inexcusably childish. Certainly it was completely disrespectful. It will not happen again. You have my word."

"Thank you, my lord," Tureden replied, still stone-faced.

Legolas bit his lip. "With time, perhaps you will come to trust that promise," he said softly.

Tureden looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I trust now that you will not repeat such behavior yourself. And I see that you will not permit your friends to do so, which I appreciate." He paused and allowed a smile to light his eyes. "But I doubt your ability to command any of your lieutenants. Particularly the Dragon."

Legolas again blushed, glancing nervously at his mother. "Neither I nor any of my cousins started that, Tureden. I swear it. The older warriors were already calling him that. And we do not make a habit of making fun of anyone, much less our officers, in such a manner. None of us have ever referred to him with that name publicly. We have only done so amongst ourselves." He looked down. "Which, I suppose, is not particularly appropriate in itself. I do know how to be respectful, Tureden, though I will grant you that you have seen little evidence to support that claim."

The smile found its way to Tureden's lips. "Perhaps calling officers or fellow warriors names is not behavior the king's son can allow himself. You are a better judge of that than I. For my part, I found it funny when I first called Langon the Dragon. Of course, we were both very young warriors at the time."

Legolas gaped at Tureden, not believing that he understood his implication.

"Are you saying that you...were you the one that started that?" Galithil asked, eyes bright and on the verge of laughter.

Tureden nodded.

Galithil burst out laughing.

Legolas clutched his side to ease the pain as laughter claimed him as well.

"Langon and I go back a long, long time," Tureden continued, laughing lightly himself. "We were never friends and we never will be. Believe it or not, his personality has not changed even slightly since long before the moon rose." He grew more serious. "You were not and cannot be responsible for the way we treat each other."

Legolas looked at his guard sidelong, trying to speak earnestly. "Langon is difficult enough, Tureden. I have been training with him for almost a dozen years. I only have five more to endure. I beg you not to make them worse than they already must be."

"I am responsible for your safety after all, my lord," Tureden said with a deep bow. His eyes were bright with mirth.

Legolas gave in to laughter once more and made to turn towards the Hall, shaking his head.

He had taken a few steps when Tureden stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Legolas looked back at him, still chuckling. His face grew instantly serious in response to Tureden's expression. His guard was looking at him gravely. "May I speak to you a moment longer, my lord?" he asked.

Legolas frowned. Tureden had spent the last few days yelling his name, at best. He had certainly never offered him any courtesies what-so-ever. Now he was addressing him with titles? Legolas almost feared what this change in attitude might forebode. "Of course," he answered, and gestured toward the Hall.

Tureden remained in place, darting a look at Lanthir and then over his shoulder at the Gate Guards. "What I must say to you is best said here, in the presence of the people...who were here earlier," he began. His voice was stiff and his gaze now fixed on the floor.

Legolas adopted the neutral expression he was required to wear in his father's court, recognizing what Tureden was about to do. This was an apology and, frankly, one he was due. It did not, given Tureden's tone, appear to be a particularly heart-felt one, but Legolas was willing to start with a token expression of repentance if that was the best Tureden could muster. At least he seemed to recognize the importance of making one in front of the people whose perception of Legolas might have been damaged by his previous actions.

Believing Tureden was less than sincere, Legolas was stunned by his guard's next action.

Tureden dropped to his knees on the stone floor of the antechamber. "My lord, I spoke to you earlier--indeed, since I was assigned to guard you--in a manner that is completely improper given your station and mine. And I wrongly accused you of lying. I understand now that every word you said was completely true and, not having the full information myself, I should have simply trusted what you were telling me. It certainly was not my place to argue with you. My treatment of you was abominable. I am ashamed of it and I regret it. I beg your forgiveness."

Legolas stared at his guard in silence. Lanthir and the Gate Guards, both of whom had turned fully to face this spectacle, were looking down at Tureden with the same imperious--and righteously offended--expressions the king himself might have worn while hearing such an apology, knowing it was owed to him. Berior and even Eirienil were staring at Tureden. Like Lindomiel and Hallion, Galithil managed to maintain a neutral expression. Legolas hoped he had, as well.

"You have my forgiveness, Tureden," he said as soon as he managed to find his voice. "It is forgotten. Please get up."

As Tureden arose from his knees, Legolas turned back around. "Shall we wait for Nestoreth in the Hall?" he suggested. Without pausing for a response--Legolas was too exhausted to bear much more--he passed through its doors. Everyone followed him silently. He did not bother to walk all the way to the meeting table at the foot of the dais. Instead, he sank into a chair at the closest scribe's table. His family sat around him. Tureden and Lanthir waited for an invitation to sit, which Legolas hurriedly made.

Once he sat, Tureden leaned towards Legolas, studying him closely. "My lord, I also apologize for forcing you into that duel. I had no idea your ribs had been injured. I assumed, since you returned to training, that whatever injuries you had were healed. Had I known, I would have never suggested you spar, much less would I have failed to pull my hits. Before tonight, I had never injured any elf, much less one I took an oath to protect. I cannot express to you how sorry I am for what I did to you."

That apology sounded considerably more sincere.

It also had elicited a surprised and angry glare from Lindomiel and Hallion in response to the admission that Tureden had not pulled his blows.

Legolas shook his head at them and then replied to Tureden. "As I already said to Berior, I should have refused the duel, Tureden. I should have told you that my ribs were still healing and that would have been the end of it."

"I should have made it my business to learn the nature of your injuries when I agreed to guard you," Tureden argued. "That is what I would have expected from anyone else assigned that duty. From the way you have carried yourself since your return, I honestly assumed you were not injured. I confess I was stunned to see that scar when you and Aewen were swimming. Having seen it, I should have suspected there might be more that I did not know and I should not have challenged you. We both know that once the challenge was made, it was very difficult for you to escape it. I know it will be little consolation as you heal cracked ribs, but you fought well. Especially so given that you were still recovering. I see no reason the Dragon should have dismissed you entirely from training today. After all, you did well tonight. Even if you nearly scared me to death jumping over that cliff after Mauril."

"What cliff!" Lindomiel exclaimed.

His cousins and Hallion all reacted with varying degrees of shock as well.

"Nothing you need concern yourself over, nana," Legolas said quickly. "As you can see, I am perfectly fine." He turned to his guard. "At some point Tureden, we will need to discuss the concept of privacy," he said very softly.

That earned him a raised eyebrow and the return of the cold glare.

Legolas started to fold his arms across his chest, but abandoned the effort when pained lanced across his side. "Honestly, Tureden, a little discretion might be in order? Would you have said anything about that cliff in the queen's presence if it had been the king that made that jump? Would you have said anything about the king and queen kissing in the pools next to the stronghold if you had been guarding them there instead of me?"

Tureden appeared ready to argue. He drew a breath to do so, drawing himself up in his chair. Then he slumped forward again. "No, I would not," he admitted.

"Then grant me the same courtesy," Legolas demanded.

"You are right, of course, my lord," Tureden replied.

Legolas sighed and faced his mother, again making what he feared would be a futile attempt to distract her from the topic of the cliff with a much more innocuous subject. "Nana, there is a perfectly good reason to explain why I was dismissed from training, I assure you. It was not a disciplinary action. I intended to talk to adar about it tonight. I just did not think it was an appropriate topic of conversation at the dinner table since it involves Demil."

Lindomiel nodded, apparently satisfied. To Legolas's relief, she chose to say nothing else.

Tureden, unfortunately, did not show the same restraint. "What could Demil possibly have to do with Langon dismissing you...?" he began, and then cut himself off. He pressed his lips together and looked down. "I beg your pardon. It is not my affair."

Legolas clenched his jaw. He did not want to be dragged through this topic again. But... "In truth, Tureden, this is probably information you have the right to hear. It certainly affects my ability to defend myself at the moment and that is your business." He glanced at Lanthir. "It is probably the business of all the King's Guard." He looked at Eirienil. "Have you heard yet how Demil died?"

She shook her head.

"She certainly did not hear it from us," Berior exclaimed, before Eirienil could say anything. "And who else would she have heard it from?"

"I only wanted to warn her that this information is somewhat shocking if she did not already know it," Legolas said quietly.

Eirienil's eyes widened slightly.

Legolas turned back to Tureden. "The scar on my chest that you saw when I was swimming? Demil gave that to me. We fought when Anastor and I were trying to escape. Initially, he tried to disarm me because he wanted me alive to sell me to another man for more gold. When he saw that endeavor would not be as easy as he expected, he fought to kill me. I killed him instead."

Eirienil's only reaction was to draw a long, quiet breath. Lanthir visibly blanched.

Tureden's mouth fell open and it appeared as if he wanted to say something, but either had no idea what to say or had lost the power of speech. Or perhaps both.

Legolas lowered his gaze to the table. "It was really not my ribs that made sparring with you...uncomfortable," he said, more to fill the silence than for any other reason. "I am finding it a little difficult to look down a sword, even a wooden practice sword, at an elf. I would like to think I would be steadier facing an orc or a man, but I cannot be certain of that. It is probably something you should be conscious of."

Tureden shook his head. "I..." he started, but seemed to still be struggling for words. "I had no idea.... I would never have imagined.... I have never even...and I lived in Menegroth. And Sirion." He frowned and stopped for a moment to put together a more coherent thought. "I am so sorry, Legolas. Both that you were forced to endure such a...horrific experience...at any age, but particularly such a terribly young one...and also that I forced you to relive it. I would never have done it had I known. I swear."

"I do not doubt that, Tureden. And I would have told you eventually. I just...had not found an appropriate time to do so." He paused. "To be completely honest, I had only just found the courage to discuss this with anyone today."

"That is completely understandable," Tureden replied quickly.

Legolas nodded and smiled, if somewhat weakly, at his guard. He did not have the strength to try to say anything more. Indeed, he was grateful when, a moment later, Galuauth came rushing into the Hall with Nestoreth, an apprentice and her bag of vile potions. At this point, he would actually welcome the oblivion one would offer.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- father/dad
Naneth/nana -- mother/mum

I go to find the Sun!

Legolas, Fellowship of the Ring

Chapter 6: And, finally, to find the sun

Legolas fought against darkness. And pain. It was difficult to breath and something was restraining his arms. He pushed against it violently and a knife stabbed into his side. As he groped for the knife, something warm...a hand...patted his cheek. Patted it, not slapped it. Vaguely, he remembered feeling a hand touch him before, but the gesture was mingled with feelings of terror. He managed to free his own hand, so he grabbed for the one touching him, while struggling to sit up.

Something pressed down firmly on his shoulder. "Shhh," a familiar voice soothed. "You are perfectly safe, Legolas. Maybe it is time for you to wake up."

That voice calmed him, though he could not immediately grasp why. He stopped pulling against whatever bound him and relaxed. Into something soft. And warm.

"You would feel better if you ate something. Wake up, Legolas," the voice urged.

He took a few deep breathes. Breathes as deep as the pain in his side allowed. Broken ribs, he remembered. Broken from riding slung over a horse. He was in the man's tent! He had fallen asleep. They needed to escape! He forced his eyes into focus and looked about himself.

This was not a tent. This was his room. His own room in the stronghold. As he strove to make sense of that, he looked at the face hovering over him.

Galithil looked back at him, a slightly worried expression on his face.

Legolas's brows knit and he reflexively loosened his bruising grip on his cousin's wrist. Galithil could not be here! They did not have him too! Anastor was with him and that was bad enough. His eyes darted around the room again. His room. Not the man's tent.

After a long moment, Legolas finally turned his fully conscious attention on his cousin, a little confused. The last thing he remembered was...the fight with the man? No! The fight with Demil! No. He was in the stronghold. He did remember coming home and Glilavan.... Slowly, the events of the last few days jumbled back, ending with his duel with Tureden and the hunt for Mauril.

"How do you feel?" Galithil asked.

Legolas loosed a long breath. "Better," he replied automatically. Then he pushed the covers off himself and tried shifting in his bed just a bit to see if it was true.

Galithil smirked at his cautious efforts.

"Well, at least if I slept through the entire night, Nestoreth's vile potion might have been worth it. I certainly have not managed that in a good many days. And my ribs do not seem too painful at all. Maybe they were not as badly damaged as she thought."

Galithil's smirk turned into a scoffing laugh. "Her vile potion might be worth something, but do not give it all the credit, since it undoubtedly wore off yesterday morning, and you slept through another full day and night."

Legolas stared at him, confusion swirling down upon him again. "What are you saying? Are you saying that I slept through an entire two days?"

"You did," Galithil confirmed and his continued laughter made it clear that he thought it was fairly amusing.

Legolas found it a little alarming.

His cousin squeezed his shoulder. "You were clearly exhausted," he said. "Everyone knew you had not been sleeping, so this was good for you. It was good if for no other reason than it means that you also slept through the worst of the injury to your ribs. But that does not mean they are healed or that you do not need to be careful. Nestoreth said..."

"That they were badly enough cracked that they would break completely with little encouragement," Legolas interrupted. "Yes, she made that very clear to me. No training, no hunting, no gaming, not even any dancing until she gives me permission." He grimaced as he slid closer to the edge of the bed, trying unsuccessfully to position his hands underneath himself to leverage himself up. "She also made certain that I thoroughly understood that broken ribs can prove to be a fatal injury, so there is no need to repeat that lecture either. I will be careful. I will have little choice in the matter. I cannot even manage to get myself out of bed."

Galithil only pressed his lips together and stood, glaring down at Legolas while silently holding out an arm.

Legolas looked at him for a moment and then reached for his arm. "Sorry, Galithil. I did not mean to snap at you," he said as he pulled himself up.

Galithil shrugged. "Slowly," he said, as Legolas stood. "You will be dizzy after spending so much time flat on your back."

"You have had enough broken bones to know," Legolas shot back as he reached his feet. He did sway slightly, gripping his cousin's arm tightly. When he had steadied himself, he took a deep breath and tried again to shake off his disorientation and concentrate on putting together the last things he remembered. The hunt for Manadhien's servants...he had no idea how it finally ended, he realized. Nestoreth had not even allowed him to wait for his father to return to the Hall before she made him drink her medicine. His gaze snapped to Galithil.

"Adar returned safely?" he asked. "You would have already told me anything different, surely."  

"Yes," Galithil assured him quickly. "He is in the Hall. I am supposed to send word to him and your naneth if you wake up. Then, I am to make you eat and take you outside to enjoy the forest."

Legolas made a sour face. The very idea of eating made his stomach churn. "How are Tureden and Belloth? Their injuries healed well, I assume," he asked in an effort to change the subject away from food.

"Tureden has returned to duty," Galithil replied with a dismissive tone, obviously recognizing the diversion for what it was. "And Belloth is still recovering in his cottage, I heard." He gestured towards the door. "Come on. You should eat. You will feel better after you do." He tugged at the sleeve of the nightshirt Legolas was wearing to move him along.

Legolas resisted. "Did adar or the patrols find Fuilin?" he asked.

Galithil sighed and shook his head. "Fuilin escaped," he replied, apparently resigning himself to answering Legolas's questions. He plopped down onto the chair by Legolas's bed where he had obviously been sitting while watching Legolas sleep. There were stacks of patrol reports around the feet of the chair. "They found no sign of him."

Legolas dropped heavily onto the edge of the bed. "What of the passage? Did adar determine if Fuilin saw it?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"He said that he saw a good many footprints throughout the cave. The back wall, in particular, was well investigated. Someone obviously followed your footprints from the front of the cave to the back."

Legolas closed his eyes.

"But the sand in the cave is too dry and deep. It did not hold footprints well enough to be able to distinguish if any were different enough to be from more than one person. There was sand tracked outside the cave in several places, but that could just as easily mean that one person went in and out several times as it could mean that more than one person did. And the rocks outside the cave obviously held no footprints. He does not think there is any way to tell if Fuilin knew. So he has decided that, for safety's sake, we must assume that escape route has been compromised."

Legolas's only response was a word that he would not have used in his father's presence.

"As Hallion said to your adar, try to focus on the positive, Legolas," Galithil said. "Three more of Manadhien's servants are dead. If you had not been at the Oak, Lagril likely would not have been spotted. He certainly would not have been recognized or stopped. And because you helped hunt them, Mauril and Pelin are dead too. Granted, so are two of the Palace Guard and that is terrible. I do not deny it. But if Lagril, Pelin and Mauril had been left alive, they would have killed--or at least tried to kill--the warriors escorting Glilavan, so it is just as likely that innocent lives would have been lost then."

Legolas loosed a long breath and opened his eyes to look at his cousin "How angry is adar?" he asked.

"Fairly angry," Galithil answered with all the honesty Legolas expected. "I have seen him angrier. I have made him angrier. So that is hopeful, because going out that door rivals me going south alone and practically unarmed for stupidity and I survived his wrath."

Legolas frowned, but remained silent. That was a difficult enough memory for Galithil without Legolas saying something smart-mouthed about it.

"Fortunately for you, just as worse things distracted your adar then, they are distracting him now," Galithil continued. "For example, he is very worried about the part you took in the hunt for Manadhien's servants. From what I understand, it far exceeded what he wanted you to do." Galithil paused and scooted forward in the chair until his knees practically touched Legolas's. He looked him levelly in the eyes. "May I ask you something about that?"

Legolas scowled. "I will relieve you of the need. I killed Mauril," he said.

Galithil's jaw clenched, but he held his cousin's gaze. "I confess that concerns me every bit as much as it does your adar," he said softly. "Legolas, we never had the opportunity to talk about Demil before everything else happened, but it was perfectly obvious to me how much you were suffering even before I knew. If I had any idea why...if I had known about Demil, I would have... done more.... And now Mauril too? Will you at least speak to me about this?"

"You did everything you could. And you understand, I hope, that the reason I did not tell you about Demil had nothing to do with you...I just...Galithil, I could not and still cannot find words to talk about it."

Galithil nodded immediately. "I am not criticizing you. Of course, I understand. I mean, I understand that it is very hard to talk about. Of course, I do not understand how you feel about..." he visibly had to make an effort to even say it. "Having killed an elf." He paused before continuing in a very quiet voice. "Two elves." Galithil waited for a moment and then, when Legolas remained silent, he added, "After seeing how much pain Demil caused you...after hearing you argue so strongly against the idea of the king executing the rest of Manadhien's servants...I am very surprised that you shot Mauril. I was present when Tureden spoke to the king about this. He said that he asked you to stand down and allow him to take the shot because he did not want you to have such a deed on your conscience. He said you refused. He considered taking your bow. Did you know that? He did not think you understood what you were doing. He said he was deeply impressed when you revealed precisely how well you do understand..."

Legolas loosed a scornful laugh. "Impressed! Galithil, I killed Mauril. And Demil. I killed two elves. That is only impressive in its evil. Evil that I was forced to, very much against my will, but evil just the same. I have not changed my opinion of whether the king should execute Manadhien and her remaining servant. I will still argue with him to imprison them." He sighed. "I suppose what I understand better now is adar's argument that they must not be allowed to harm this realm. If they have to die to prevent that, I suppose I see that reasoning. It is why I was willing to take a shot that I knew might kill Mauril. He was too far ahead of us and was going to escape. I could not allow him to carry information about that door back to his mistress. And I could not leave Tureden to do what I was unwilling to do. That would not be right."

"I am not criticizing you, Legolas," Galithil repeated calmly. "I am only trying to understand what happened. And hopefully make you see what happened a bit more clearly yourself. I know you every bit as well as I know myself and I do not doubt for a moment that these were not decisions you made lightly. You did what you had to do, in both cases. What was necessary to defend yourself, Anastor, Dannenion and this entire realm. I know that without being told. The question is, do you truly understand it?"

"Yes, I understand it. But..." he shook his head. How did he explain that knowing he had no choice made no difference? How could he make Galithil understand that?

After a long moment, when Legolas gave up trying to think of what he could say, Galithil spoke. "When adar was killed, everyone told me it was not my fault. I still do not entirely believe that..."

That got Legolas's attention and he sucked in a breath to protest it.

"...but even when I did accept that his death was not entirely my fault--that the orcs were also to blame--it did not make it better. It did not make the loss less painful. I imagine what you are dealing with is similar. You know you did what you had to, but that does not really make it easier to bear." He glanced at Legolas to see if he was right.

"Precisely," Legolas replied, and he sincerely regretted his cousin understood that so well.

Galithil nodded. "I hate Manadhien and her servants for doing that to you," he said, matter-of-factly. "I wish I knew some words of comfort that someone said to me when adar died that helped and would make this better for you, but there are none. What you did was a world-shattering act. I know what it feels like when your world disappears from under your feet. You are the only one who can rebuild it. Even rebuilt, it will not be the same world as before. And the rebuilding takes time. You will just have to give yourself that time and accept that the world is different now. But I count you lucky in one respect: all your family remains in the world you must rebuild. And we will be here to help you. If you will let us."

Legolas forced a half smile to his face. The best he could muster. "Thank you, Galithil. I think you are right that more than anything else, this will take time. And distance. I really wish adar had caught Fuilin so Tulus could arrest Manadhien and the whole affair could be over with."

Galithil fixed Legolas with an uneasy look. "I fear that even if Fuilin had been arrested or killed, it would not be over," he said.

"Why?" Legolas asked apprehensively.

"I am not certain who knows this. It was related only to Hallion and the king and, as far as I know, they have only passed it on to Tulus. I happened to be in the room because I was working in the king's office rather than Dolgailon's to summarize patrol reports in the interest of avoiding Engwe. The king did not ask me to leave, and he always tells you whatever he allows me to hear, so I will tell you, but consider it privileged information: Tureden recognized Pelin and Lagril."

"What?" Legolas interrupted. "He did not mention that to me. He even asked me who Pelin was. How did he recognize them? From where?"

"He told the king that he recognized them once he saw their bodies laid out together and he got more than just a glimpse in the shadows of them. He remembered seeing them in Nargothrond..."

"Nargothrond! What was he doing there?"

"Some errand for Thingol, apparently. Delivering news of some sort. He did not say. He did say that he was in the back of the Hall in Nargothrond, awaiting his audience, when Pelin and Lagril were pleading their case to the court. Petitioning to be allowed to stay. They were deemed unwelcome since they had been held by Morgoth in Angband. Their petition was denied and they were sent out of Nargothrond."

Legolas shook his head. "They escaped Morgoth, managed to return to their families and their reward was to be exiled? What sort of twisted reasoning is that?"

"Exactly what I asked when Tureden was telling this tale. Hallion explained that escaped prisoners of Morgoth were rarely welcomed home because it was feared that they had not escaped, but had been set loose as spies--or worse--of Morgoth. Some petitioned for sanctuary in Doriath and were refused there as well."

"That seems cruel to me," Legolas said quietly.

"Me too. But none of that is the important part. Tureden said that when he witnessed this petition, there were four brothers making it--Pelin, Lagril and two more. The only names given were Noldorin, so those were the ones he knew for them--Hessindo and Linto. And also Morinco and Haldince."

"So, the implication is, since Hessindo and Linto obviously ended up serving Manadhien, if they have not died in some other battle, Morinco and Haldince might serve her also and may still be lurking about, since we cannot account for them for certain."

"Precisely. And there is even more than that. Tureden was able to confirm that they were still alive--all four of them--as late as the attack on Menegroth. They were the ones that took Elured and Elurin."

"Tureden saw that?" Legolas exclaimed.

Galithil leaned forward, closer to his cousin. "Legolas, Tureden was their guard. Those four over-powered him and left him for dead when they took those children."

Legolas stared at his cousin with wide eyes. "I wonder if adar knew that about Tureden before hearing this tale," he said quietly after a long moment.

"He appeared to know. Given how evil that deed was, he was very shaken to hear Lagril and Pelin were associated with it..."

"No surprise, that."

Galithil nodded. "At any rate, your adar sent word that there might be two more servants and the news of Lagril, Pelin and Mauril's deaths to Tulus last night. We have not yet heard back from him, either about Manadhien's reaction to the loss of her servants or to my brother's arrival with the horses. Of course, she may not yet have news of either, depending on how fast Fuilin and Dolgailon are traveling and what sorts of spies she has."

"Dolgailon had better be very cautious in that village," Legolas said. "Manadhien is going to be eager for revenge."

"Indeed."

"What of Glilavan? Is he still here? Did he know anything about these other servants?"

"He is still here and your adar questioned him about Morinco and Haldince, but he gave up nothing. Not a word. He is leaving tonight. Your adar does not want to give Fuilin too much time to regroup or muster aid to help him free Glilavan, if he still purposes to do so, but he wanted to be certain the path they will take him on at least appears to be clear. The warriors sent that confirmation last night. I read it amongst the patrol reports. Your adar is personally sending orders to the patrols today. He is writing them now. He wants to be certain Glilavan gets safely out of this forest."

"Good riddance," Legolas muttered.

"And," Galithil said, with a broad grin. "Your adar is probably also spending part of the day writing Lady Galadriel."

"Galadriel? Why would adar be writing her? I did not have the impression he particularly...well, approved of her very existance," Legolas said, remembering his father's reaction to the news that Galadriel would be in Lothlorien.

Galithil snickered. "Hallion suggested--and believe me that your adar tried valiantly to find an argument against this, but he actually failed--that, since we have the Noldorin names for all these people that Galadriel would recognize, there might be reason to write her and ask if she can share any information about them. Apparently the king asked Hallion to write her in the past, but they only had the name Marti at the time and Galadriel responded that she did not know anyone by that name. Now, we know more and Glilavan's escort can deliver the letter on the way to Belfalast, so he was convinced to try again."

Legolas laughed nervously. "Hallion must have had a difficult last few days if he coerced adar into writing Galadriel," he said.

"Hallion has also spent a good deal of time pleading your case, from what I have been around to hear. And Tureden's," Galithil responded. "I was there to see that. It was nearly very ugly."

Legolas's eyes widened again. "What about Tureden?" he asked.

"Oh come, Legolas! You saw your adar's reaction to the fact that Tureden accused you of dishonesty and then ordered Lanthir to lock you up. Put on top of that Tureden not pulling his hits and breaking your ribs and how do you think your adar is going to react?"

Legolas tensed. "How did the detail that Tureden did not pull his blows come out in adar's presence? And what did he do?"

"While Tureden and your adar were discussing Lagril and Pelin, they also talked about the hunt for Mauril. In the course of discussing that, your adar asked Tureden how he could allow you to jump off that cliff. A good question, in truth. That was insane with broken ribs, Legolas. I mean, we have done it before, but while perfectly healthy. And you said it was dangerous. Of course, you were right..."

"Hah! It might have been better for you to have admitted that then! Rather than going through with that idiotic dare!" Legolas exclaimed.

"The point is, Tureden said it was not his place to question what you deemed it necessary to do in the defense of the stronghold..."

"He actually said that?" Legolas burst out.

Galithil nodded. "I was as surprised as you, because he seemed sincere. Your adar laughed when he said it and he replied that Tureden could hardly argue that to try to avoid trouble for letting you go over the cliff when just a few hours before that he had publicly accused you of lying in front of the very people you might one day lead in the defense of this stronghold. And believe me, Legolas, just saying that, your adar was already working up into a very dangerous anger. You know how he grips the edge of the table when he is trying not to use his hands for something worse? Well, he was already doing that."

Legolas held his breath. That was definitely a bad sign.

"Tureden replied that when he spoke to you about going to the Oak, he was under the impression that he was dealing with a child--and he was stupid enough to call you a naughty child. I thought your adar might explode right then. But Tureden went on to say, as fast as he could, that the way you wanted to help hunt Manadhien's servants--that you said that you owed it--made him see that maybe you are not entirely an infant..."

"If he called me an infant, and survived saying that to adar, he might not survive the next time he sees me," Legolas interjected.

Galithil waved his hands. "No, he did not say that. Those were my words. But that was the gist of it. He said that perhaps you do know how to be responsible, or something like that. And, better still, he said that he thought you handled yourself well during that hunt. He seemed especially impressed by the way Mauril was finally stopped--that you were willing to shoot him. He said you were brave and understood your duty. He said that since he changed his mind that you were not an infant--my word--he apologized to you for accusing you of lying. After that, he went on to say that he also apologized for goading you into that duel. He made the mistake of saying the same thing that he said in the Hall--that he had not pulled his blows and he added that he had done so thinking, at the time, that you deserved a little punishment for disobeying him by going to the Oak. When he said that, your adar shot up from the table like one of Mithrandir's fireworks. Hallion had to get between them. Your adar was going to strike him, Legolas, I swear it. Maybe worse."

Legolas sucked in a breath. "But he did not, did he? I mean, Tureden and I already spoke about all this. I told him that I forgave him. It should be over..."

"I do not think your adar cares what you said between yourselves. He was and still is furious with Tureden after hearing that. But no, nothing happened. Hallion intervened and sent Tureden out of uncle's sight. He sent me out of the office at that point too and they stayed in there all the way until dinner time. Uncle came to the table that evening, but he did not eat a bite and he was silent the entire time."

Legolas stared at his cousin.

"I think anyone who hurts the Elvenking's son might regret it--in the brief moment before they die--but they will regret it," Galithil concluded. "I acutally feel just a little pity for Manadhien and her servants after seeing that."

Legolas loosed a long sigh. "I am so looking forward to speaking to the king, given the mood he is in," he said. Then he stood. "You said that nana and adar said that I was free to go outside. I think I will go, while I still can. I am going to have a bath..."

"And some food."

"...and then I am going out.  You will come too?"

Galithil nodded. "Definitely, but we need to find Berior first and I want to show you both something before we go outside. It might be a nice diversion for you."

Legolas looked at his cousin suspiciously. "I fear anything that you refer to as a diversion, Galithil."

Galithil laughed and gave him a shove towards his bath. "It is Celonhael's wedding present to Maidhien and I. I want you and Berior to see it," he said.

*~*~*

Legolas followed Galithil through the corridors in a largely unused portion of the family quarters. Berior padded silently along behind them. Legolas knew he was in enough trouble already, so he was almost afraid to see what this wedding present was, if it was hidden away in an unoccupied suite. Only the claim that it was Celonhael's gift allayed his fears and persuaded him to go see it. Nothing Celonhael had given could be anything too trouble-making.

Galithil stopped and pulled open a door.

Legolas peered into the suite. It was dark, but even so, he could see it was empty save a for a table and a few worn, mismatched chairs in the middle of the main room. The table was covered with a stained, torn sheet and held several lamps, a bucket of paint brushes and two dozen or more jars of paint. Galithil lit a faggot he had taken from Legolas's room on one of the torches in the corridor and used it to light a lamp in the room.

Legolas stopped just inside the door of the suite. Berior came in behind him, moving slowly.

They found themselves gazing at the beginnings of a mural that wrapped the walls of the main room.

"Do you think you can finish it?" Galithil asked once the lamp was burning brightly.

Legolas's jaw dropped. "You think I can finish this?" he asked, still staring--gaping to be honest--at the scale of the mural.

It was a forest scene, like many of the decorations in the stronghold. It was only blocked in outlines with base colors, but what Celonhael had designed was obvious--a flowery glade, surrounded by oaks, with birds and forest creatures hiding amongst the branches and tree trunks. These were not difficult subjects by any stretch of the imagination. On canvas or paper, Legolas could certainly paint or sketch them completely satisfactorily. But on this scale...as a mural.... One that covered three walls. He began to shake his head.

"I will help you, Legolas," Berior intervened, before Legolas could speak. His voice quavered.

Legolas looked at him, eyebrows raised. "I did not know that you painted with your adar," he said. "You quit lessons with Gelireth long ago."

Berior frowned. "I did not paint with adar," he replied, now reduced to a whisper. "I wish I had. Will you show me?"

Legolas turned back to face the mural in order to hide his dismay. "I do not really have the skill for something like this..." he began.

"You always say that," Galithil interrupted, "but your paintings are beautiful. Even your adar has told you that and he is a really good painter too. You could do this, Legolas. I know it is a lot to ask. I know it will take a very long time. But who else can I ask to do it? I cannot ask the king to use the precious little unoccupied time he has to paint decorations for me and Maidhien. And, like Berior, I quit my painting lessons long ago. If I asked Gelireth to paint it for us, she will just tell me that I should not have quit, so I could paint it for myself. But I cannot expect Maidhien to live here with a half-painted mural either. Please, Legolas," he practically begged.

Legolas shook his head. "You do not understand, Galithil. Painting something on this scale is far different from painting on a canvas. Even a large one. Aside from problems of scale, I have never painted with these types of paints. They are completely different from oils. I do not know anything about how to blend them. And they dry so quickly...."

"Legolas, you have three walls and many years in which to learn," Galithil answered. "Your adar could show you the basics, since he loves painting murals, and then you could finish it as slowly as you wanted to--just a little at a time. That is what Uncle Celonhael was doing. It will be five years before Maidhien and I move into these rooms, after all. "

"I promise I will help any way I can," Berior added, "and if you teach me, I will be able to do even more."

Legolas clamped his mouth shut in an effort not to laugh. He could not teach someone to do what he could not do himself. Even if he could, painting was not a skill one perfected in a few weeks or even a few years. But how could he refuse? As Galithil said, he and Maidhien could not be expected to live in a half painted room. And Uncle Celonhael's work deserved to be finished. Especially since it seemed to mean so much to Berior.

"I will try," he conceded, fixing Galithil with a stern look to counter his pleased one. "But I am not making any promises. The only reason I am agreeing to try this at all is because if I make a mess of it, all adar or Gelireth will have to do to correct it is re-plaster the part I destroy and start again." He sighed as he turned back to the wall. "Tell me somewhere that you and Maidhien intend to put a large piece of furniture. I will start there, where the mistakes I make while figuring out this paint can be hidden."

Galithil rolled his eyes.

"I am serious, Galithil," Legolas insisted. "You may be very sorry that Celonhael could not finish this for you."

"I certainly am," Berior whispered.

Legolas grimaced. "We all are, of course," he said, turning to Berior. "That was thoughtless of me. I apologize..."

Berior waved him silent. "I understand. We are both struggling right now. With too many griefs."

Legolas nodded his thanks to Berior, but at the same time, studied him intently, considering if he should say something to him about an issue that had been weighing on his mind. Berior raised an eyebrow at him when he continued looking at him, so Legolas turned back at the mural. "Berior, I do not want to quarrel with you. I cannot imagine how painful your loss has been for you and I have absolutely no desire to add to your burden. But, you are not the only person to grieve the loss of your adar and your actions are making that loss much more painful for another person, who does not deserve your hostility."

As Legolas spoke, Berior drew himself up tensely and looked at Legolas with a cold glare. He obviously knew what Legolas intended to say.

Galithil's gaze darted between them in confusion.

Legolas turned back to face Berior. "Do you blame me for your adar's death?" he asked softly. "I am much more responsible than the queen."

Galithil's jaw dropped and he turned on Berior. "What is he saying?" he demanded.

"The queen ordered adar to go and she had no business doing that. Adar is not a warrior to go out hunting criminals. He should not have been there..."

Legolas waited for Berior to stop speaking, preparing to try to persuade that he was wrong.

Galithil, however, did not restrain himself. "You take that back," he said, taking a menacing step towards Berior. "Take it back or I will make you take it back."

"Galithil!" Legolas said, stepping between them.

"I am not taking anything back. She should not have sent him and he would be alive if she had not," Berior said, squaring off with Galithil.

Galithil took another step forward, stopping only when Legolas physically blocked his path. "Your adar asked to go with Uncle Thranduil when he went after Legolas and Anastor," Galithil said, leaning around Legolas to speak into Berior's face. "More than that. He told the king that he would not allow him to go alone. And when the king--the king, Berior--ordered him aside, your adar refused that order. He refused to step aside and he said that he insisted that he be allowed to go. He barred the king's path, to force him to acquiesce to that demand. He only backed down when the king asked him to stay and look after Aunt Lindomiel in case both he and Legolas were killed. Uncle Thranduil trusted your adar with her and you are accusing her of causing his death. How do you think the king would react to that? Or your adar? He would be ashamed of you!"

"Enough Galithil," Legolas said.

"Enough?" Galithil repeated. "This is your naneth, Legolas." He looked over Legolas's shoulder to glare at Berior again. "She has been my naneth since my own died. She has given so much of herself for me. And she is prepared to do the same for you. This is how you repay her? I will not stand for it. Take it back, Berior. Right now!"

"Nana would not want you fighting with Berior while he is grieving, Galithil," Legolas said quietly. "I assure you, I did not react much better than you to hearing this and nana forbade me to confront Berior. I do not want to confront him. I would like to try to convince him he is wrong, but that will be hard to do with you two threatening each other."

Galithil took a few puffing breaths and then stepped back, fists still clenched, but largely under control of himself.

Legolas turned to Berior, making sure to stay between him and Galithil.

Berior shifted the stubborn expression he aimed at Galithil onto Legolas.

"You are correct, to some degree, that nana is responsible," Legolas said. "Just as an officer is responsible for the losses under his command. But nana did not plan a poor battle strategy that resulted in your adar's death. Adar, might have, by sending only two guards with him. Do you blame adar for that? Or you could argue that I am at fault for allowing myself to be captured, which required everyone to come after me. Or that it was my fault because the king, and your adar, were anxious to get Fuilin and Mauril away from me. Do you blame me?"

"I do," Berior whispered. "Somewhat. I know you did not want to be captured or to have anything else that you endured happen. I know the king did not think two guards would be too few. And I know that aunt Lindomiel did not mean for adar to be killed looking for Manadhien's servants. But..." he grimaced. "It is impossible to be angry at you, Legolas, after...everything you have been through. I was angry at uncle Thranduil, until..." he looked sidelong at Legolas and Galithil, "I have to tell you what he told me about Menegroth."

Both Legolas and Galithil's eyebrows rose dramatically at that.

"I cannot be angry at him after hearing it," Berior continued. "So that only leaves Aunt Lindomiel."

"Believe me, Berior," Legolas said quietly. "Nana regrets sending your adar. He was her closest friend. She is deeply grieving his death. Good came of his sacrifice, but I will not try to argue that it justifies his loss because I know that nothing can justify it for you or any of us. But I will ask you this: how does your anger at the queen serve anyone? Does it truly make you feel better to hurt her? And me through her?"

"Of course not," Berior answered.

"Then please try to let it go," Legolas pleaded. "She is hurt by your actions. I cannot believe your adar would want that. He cared for her like a daughter, just as he saw my adar as a son."

"Honestly, Berior," Galithil said, "Legolas is right. I apologize for the way I spoke to you just now, but for your own sake and the sake of this family, you have to let this go. We cannot fight each other. We need to stick together and help each other through this. If I learned anything from my adar's death is was the importance of the support--the love--everyone in the family could offer me. Without it--without what Uncle Thranduil and Aunt Lindomiel gave of themselves for me, I would have faded. You need support yourself now and we all, including Aunt Lindomiel, want to give it to you. But you have to be willing to accept it. And to give it back to others who also need it."

"Very true," a voice called from the open doorway.

Legolas, Galithil and Berior all spun around to face it. When Legolas saw his father framed by the door, he drew a sharp breath, wondering how much of their argument he had heard. Berior obviously was wondering the same. He looked very nervous.

Thranduil, however, was focused on the walls of the room. "What is this?" he asked, voice filled with wonder.

"Uncle Celonhael's wedding present for Maidhien and I," Galithil answered promptly, clearly glad to change the subject.

"Legolas and I are going to finish it," Berior added.

Thranduil's gaze darted to Legolas before returning quickly to the mural. "I hope you will let me help also," he said.

"Adar, surely you would not have time..." Legolas protested. He did not want to obligate his father to become involved in such a time consuming task.

"To paint with my son and nephew? Of course I can find time for that," Thranduil insisted. "I cannot believe Celonhael hid this from me. He knows how much I enjoyed painting your rooms with him. Quite selfish of him to hoard this opportunity for himself," he finished with a wink at Berior.

Berior smiled, taking the comment for the joke Thranduil clearly intended it to be.

Thranduil walked over to him and put an arm around his shoulders. "I have not seen you yet today. You are well this morning?" he asked gently.

Berior nodded. "As well as can be expected," he answered.

"Good. And I am glad to see this," he said, scanning the room. "Glad you and Legolas both will be working on it. It is certainly something better for you to focus on and something to connect you to your adar and the beauty of your House."

"I agree," Berior replied, though his voice was rough.

Thranduil squeezed his shoulders and then released him. "I intend to spend some time on the Green today. And perhaps the river. I would like to speak to Legolas a moment, since he has finally deigned to grace us with his conscious presence. But then I will go outside. Would you and Galithil care to join me. Fishing or swimming, perhaps? Or both?"

"Are you serious, uncle? You are not working today?"

"I am finished for the day," Thranduil replied.

Berior brightened. "I would certainly like to join you."

"So would I, of course," Galithil said.

"Then I will meet you on the Green if you will give Legolas and I a few moments," Thranduil said.

Galithil and Berior nodded and headed towards the door, with a backward glance at Legolas.

In the doorway, Berior paused. "Is Aunt Lindomiel playing truant today too?" he asked. "Would she be able to join us?"

Thranduil looked back at him with a very neutral expression.

Legolas's eyes widened. Adar knows, he thought.

"I am not certain if she can abandon her preparations for the festival and your trip to Dale, but I know it would mean a great deal to her if you would invite her just the same, Berior. As it would to me," Thranduil said.

Berior nodded. "Then we will go find her and ask," he said in his normal, merry tone of voice.

Legolas managed a half-smile for his cousin, though his heart had begun to race in response to the confrontation he knew was coming. He watched Berior and Galithil leave and then faced his father.

Thranduil wholly surprised him by gathering him carefully into his arms. "How do you feel, ion nin?" he asked.

"I am fine, adar," Legolas answered automatically.  

His father's arms tightened around his shoulders. "Fine! I watched an arrow strike you squarely in the center of your back. A hit that would have killed you had you not been wearing mail. One that would have killed you, despite the mail, had Fuilin been using bodkins rather than broadheads. And then I come into the stronghold to find you unconscious. For two days. Perhaps you are fine, Legolas, but I am not." Thranduil released him and stood back, studying him closely.

"To be fair, adar," Legolas said quietly, "I watched several arrows fly at you, knowing you were not wearing armor. That was equally frightening."

Thranduil loosed a wry laugh. "Yet I am truly uninjured and despite your claim to be 'fine,' we both know that is not true. You have re-injured two ribs that you already suffered to heal."

"I was drugged to sleep, adar. And, as Galithil pointed out to me, sleeping was good. My ribs healed quite a bit while I slept. I was oblivious to the worst of it."

"Not oblivious enough, if the nightmares I witnessed were any indication. You need time to recover from this incident, Legolas. I am very tempted to forbid you to pick up any weapon, practice or real, until I give you permission." He left that threat hanging, waiting for a reaction.

Legolas frowned. "The Troop Commander, acting as captain of the Training Program, has already banned me from handling bladed weapons until he gives permission and he communicated that order to the lieutenants..."

Thranduil drew himself up stiffly. "Dolgailon did not discuss that with me."

Legolas met his father's gaze. "Do officers normally consult with the parents of the warriors in the Training Program before issuing commands, adar?"

Thranduil glared at him silently for a long moment. "Perhaps not," he conceded, though he sounded no less annoyed.

Legolas looked back down. "He was not wrong to issue that order. Obviously my judgment regarding whether I am ready to spar, or even physically capable of doing so, is not sound at the moment. When Tureden asked me to spar with him on the training field between classes, I could not find a way to refuse him. Langon had to intervene. That evening, when Tureden challenged me at the Oak, I should have told him I was injured and could not fight him, but I instead, I fell to your greatest fear of the Oak--I allowed myself to be goaded into a game that I knew was too dangerous. That fight was more my fault than it was Tureden's. You should not blame him for it." Legolas was prepared to say more, but Thranduil did not allow it.

"I should not blame him!" he repeated. "He broke your ribs, Legolas! He might not have intended to do that much damage, but he admitted to me that he did intend, in his own words, to 'cause you a little pain' in punishment for going to the Oak. He is lucky to have lived through that confession and I say that fully aware of how sensitive you currently are to the topic of killing elves."

"You had better never come to the training field then, adar. Langon has given me, and nearly everyone else in the training, more than one bruise intended to teach a lesson. So has Hebor."

"As your officer, and within reason, I accept that may happen. They are training you to be a warrior. Warriors suffer a great deal of pain, but I do not think I need to explain that you you, since you have been seriously wounded in battles twice now. Tureden, on the other hand, has absolutely no right to teach you anything in that manner. None at all. He is not your officer, your lord or your adar." Thranduil made a scoffing noise. "Not that your adar or your lord would teach anyone a lesson in that manner. Well, I might teach Tureden such a lesson the next time he lays hands on you and he knows that."

Legolas said nothing, unwilling to provoke his father on this topic, since much worse ones were close at hand.

"You and Tureden spoke already," Thranduil finally said into the silence. "About all the issues between you. I heard that from Hallion and your naneth. They both said they thought you were very generous in your responses. And they seemed fairly satisfied with what was said. I assume, since you are defending Tureden, that you are also satisfied?"

"I am. Largely speaking," Legolas replied. "I cannot imagine becoming his friend. Not as Tulus and I were friends. But I think he will now at least have a bit of respect for me."

"I agree with that. He spoke highly of how you managed yourself while we were hunting for Manadhien's servants. In the end, he even defended your decision to jump off the cliff to chase Mauril," Thranduil said.

Now Legolas looked at his father nervously.

"Since I was not forced to witness that, I will try to trust your judgment that it was necessary and refrain from criticizing it. Moreover, I will say that I agree with Tureden's assessment that you did very well that night. Both in the way you contributed to the hunt--particularly that you finished Mauril--and by the fact that you asked to participate to begin with."

"As I said then, I was bound to do what I could to correct the mistake I made," Legolas replied, bracing himself for the opening that statement made.

Thranduil remained silent, clearly awaiting whatever explanation Legolas intended to make.

Legolas frowned and looked down. "I know my actions that night were foolish, my lord. Honestly, worse than foolish, they were thoughtless. I confess that you were correct when you stated that I never considered the idea that Manadhien's servants might be nearby, much less spying on the stronghold, searching for a way to aid Glilavan. And I do recognize that this was not a prank, but rather an abuse of the trust the king placed in me when he chose to share with me information regarding the security of this stronghold. An abuse that led to the deaths of two warriors when they were forced to help correct my mistake. One that endangered the king and his guard when they were forced to correct it. There is no excuse for my actions. I can only beg your pardon and your mercy, my lord."

Thranduil studied Legolas for a long moment and then he turned and sat in one of the chairs near the table. "While you spent the last two days essentially unconscious," he said, and his voice sounded very tired, "I have had more than enough time to contemplate the excuse the queen offered for your actions. To contemplate what it would be like to be held against my will. To face the prospect of being forced, against my will, into an abhorrent life. I cannot imagine such a thing. I can say, with certainty, that I would prefer death. The argument that you were not thinking rationally, given all that you recently suffered is, beyond any doubt, both very relevant to the offense you committed and a compelling mitigating argument."

Legolas held his breath. He knew his father was not finished.

"And I respect your reasoning for not simply walking past Lanthir to leave the stronghold. In your place, under the same circumstances, I probably would have done it. Of course, when I became the prince of this realm, I was an adult, so I never experienced the type of conflict you face between the responsibilities that I have imposed upon you long before you come of age and the authority you will naturally wield once you come of age. I can see the difficulties that arise from that. Perhaps I am mistaken to ask so much of you and your cousins so soon."

Legolas stiffened. "I can speak only for myself, my lord, but I have always wanted to serve your court. I will admit that not every aspect of serving the court--interminable meetings, for example..."

Thranduil laughed out loud at that.

"...are as exciting as they seemed when I was younger and simply thrilled to be doing something with you while being treated as an adult," Legolas continued without pause. "Still, I take pride in the service I am able to give and I know that I learn a great deal by watching your dealings. If the result of this incident is that you feel compelled to bar me from service to the court, I must accept that, but it will be a very bitter punishment."

"It is one that I am considering," Thranduil said quietly. "It is the one I used when, in his childhood, Dolgailon misused the door behind my throne to spy upon my council meetings." Then he fell silent and remained so, thinking, for so long that Legolas had difficulty holding his gaze.

Finally, Thranduil drew and released a long breath. "Very well. I genuinely believe that you used that passage because you could not bear to be imprisoned, even for one night, after enduring being Fuilin's prisoner. After enduring the threat of being enslaved, indefinitely, to that man. Moreover, clearly you were not capable of making your best judgments after being forced to kill Demil in order to escape that fate. And, most importantly, you showed that you understand the seriousness of this mistake by doing all that you could to correct it, willingly. Therefore, I believe I am justified to respond to this offense with some leniency. But, still, respond I must."

Legolas stood so rigidly in anticipation of his father's next words that pain spiked across his sore ribs. He resolutely ignored it.

"So this is my decision: First: the stone doors in this stronghold open for those who I will they should. The Gates open for any warrior responsible for their defense. The secret doors open for members of my family only, since they are who I will trust to lead the defense of this stronghold. You will find that, until you come of age, these doors will no longer open for you. That includes the door to the passage you used, the Gates themselves, the door behind my throne and the door behind the desk in my office. The only exception will be the door to your naneth's garden through the sitting room, because I will not bar you from that garden. Do you understand?"

Legolas blinked in disbelief. That punishment was almost entirely symbolic. He certainly never had any occasion to open or close the Gates. And it might be inconvenient to not be able to use the door behind the throne or behind his father's desk, but the loss of those privileges...it was nothing. He could not believe his ears.

"The doors will not open, but I may still serve the court. As I do now?" he asked to be certain that he did understand.

Thranduil nodded. "Indeed you will, Legolas. Exclusively. The second part of my decision is that I am ordering your participation in the Training Program to be suspended."

Legolas could not suppress a gasp. He had not expected that.

"Your offense was one against the trust I place in your judgment. My response, therefore, should curtail how much I must depend on that trust. There are two areas in which I do that--the court and the military. To be frank, Legolas, I cannot afford to lose your service to the court at the moment, immediately after losing Celonhael and while Dolgailon is focused on the Training Program and his village. And I refuse to allow my only response to this incident be one that is no more than a token punishment. It is too serious an offense to do that. That leaves me with the option of suspending your training, so that is what I will do," he concluded. Then he leaned back in his chair and looked silently at Legolas, as if daring him to speak.

Legolas stared at his father. One did not argue with the king's sentence, once it had been pronounced. Still... "May I ask for how long you are ordering my training to be suspended?"

"I did not specify. I am willing to hear whatever argument you would like to make on that subject."

Legolas returned his father's gaze for a long moment, marshaling his thoughts. Then he spoke. "I am certain that I do not have to emphasize how important it is that I learn to defend this realm. We agreed on that subject nearly a dozen years ago. And while I have benefited from weapons training since then, enough that I can, at least, defend myself, the material in the tactics classes in the training program is what I truly need to learn and cannot learn elsewhere. I will grant you that there is likely very little difference between me finishing that training five years from now or five years after I come of age. But, if I stop training now, after being abducted during a training exercise, that will create a definite impression--one of cowardice. Of an unwillingness, either on my part or yours, that I should face the dangers involved in the defense of this realm. That is not the impression that I want the populace to form of me and I do not see any way that we could portray this decision that would not give that impression. Except, of course, publicly announcing the full reasoning behind it. That is possible, though fraught with its own problems, not the least of which would be revealing the very information we are trying to keep secret. I assume that we are having this audience in unused rooms in the family quarters, rather than in the Hall, because you did not care to make the details of this offense public."

Thranduil's mouth twitched in what almost appeared to be a smile. "Well reasoned, as always. That was my concern with this decision also.  So, I will suspend your training for one year, rather than until you come of age. And we will explain that suspension by saying that it will give you time to recover physically and emotionally from this experience. That is, to be honest, the reason I settled on this response rather than suspending your service to the court. I am very concerned about you, ion nin, and I want you under my eye while you recover."

Legolas frowned. "I am fine, adar. Truly."

"You will be. That much I believe," he responded. Then his expression became one of regret. "Unfortunately, Legolas, this explanation will be well understood by the populace because it is public knowledge that you killed Mauril, so they expect you are...experiencing some difficulties. If it is any consolation to you, there is, I have heard, a great swell of both admiration for your defense of the stronghold and of pity that it required such a horrible act. Mixed into all that is the rumor that you killed Demil to escape him. I am not certain how that information got out. It was not through Dannenion or Anastor. They both came to me, separately, to tell me it had leaked and they swore they were not the source of that leak. I believe that..."

"So do I," Legolas interjected.

"But I did not want to respond to that without hearing how you would prefer it be handled."

Legolas shook his head. "I am not proud of what I was forced to do. Not at all. But neither am I ashamed of it. It was necessary. This should be handled simply by telling the truth. The people have the right to know about my actions, just as they have the right to know that there are very deranged elves amongst them that we are searching for."

"Very well," Thranduil said quietly. "We will work with Hallion to determine the best way to communicate what has happened to the populace." He gestured to a chair. "Sit down, Legolas."

Legolas slowly pulled the chair so that it properly faced his father and used the time that took to try to compose himself. Even a year away from training was something he would dearly feel. Finally, he sat, his gaze still on the stone floor.

"I know this hurts you, Legolas," Thranduil said gently. "Believe me when I say that it tears at my heart to do it, now of all times, when you are already struggling."

"I did not expect anything less when I realized what a terrible mistake I had made. I am truly sorry, my lord. Especially that it caused two deaths and endangered you and your guards."

Thranduil shook his head. "Try to put it behind you, Legolas," he said firmly. He paused and leaned forward to draw Legolas's full attention. "I want to discuss one other matter with you and I want you to listen very carefully and hear my words."

"Of course, my lord," Legolas replied, somewhat startled that his father seemed to think he needed to be told to listen.

"Tureden told me that your argument for jumping off that cliff to pursue Mauril was that, if it was necessary for you to give your life to stop him, then so be it. Is that accurate?"

"I did tell him that, my lord. Your own order was that Mauril was not to escape under any circumstance. He was escaping. My cousins, Anastor and Noruil and I have been around that waterfall enough to know that he did not simply fall over the second ledge. Anastor and I knew there was a trail there." He hesitated before continuing. "That is not the first time I made that jump. I knew I could do it, so it was worth the risk to stop Mauril."

"You and Tureden did stop him and that was critical. I will grant you that. But I want you to understand something Legolas: I had to accept before agreeing to have children that any child I have, son or even daughter in Mirkwood..."

Legolas's gaze snapped to meet his father's when he used that name for the forest.

"...will, by necessity, fight to defend this forest. Warriors can lose their lives. I understand that. I accept it. But Legolas, your life is something that I would not willingly give. Not in exchange for anything if there was any way at all that I could avoid it. If, for example, instead of selling you to men, Manadhien had asked for my life in place of yours, I would have agreed to those terms..."

"Adar..."

Thranduil waved him to silence. "Do your duty to this realm, Legolas. I am not denying that. And if, at a time of great need, that duty requires you to give your life..." He fell silent and looked away. When he continued, his voice was rough. "Understand that is a sacrifice you can make only once, and the benefit must be great enough to outweigh the cost. The cost may well be that I would not survive your loss. I told you that before, when you entered the Training Program. But, after watching an arrow strike you, I now know much better the truth of it. Please take care, ion nin. And make choices that are mindful of the value of your life to this realm. And to me. Do you understand?"

"Of course I understand, adar," Legolas whispered, unable to muster more voice.

Thranduil nodded. Then he made an obvious effort to compose himself and looked back at Legolas levelly. "You made a mistake, ion nin, leaving the stronghold through that door. But, that single action aside, I want you to know how very proud I am of how you managed yourself throughout this entire entire incident. You have impressed me at every turn."

Legolas tried, and was not certain how successful he was, to manage a smile in response to that. He did not feel particularly proud of anything that had happened.

Thranduil laid a hand on his shoulder, briefly, giving it a squeeze. "I am looking forward to working on this mural with you. And with Berior," he said.

Legolas nodded. "I certainly appreciate the offer. I told Galithil that I know nothing about these paints."

"I can show you. I doubt you will find them too difficult." He paused again. Then said. "And I appreciate greatly you speaking to Berior on your naneth's behalf. That was an intolerable situation, but my own relationship with Berior at the moment is very delicate, so I am unable to manage it as I would have liked. You apparently made an impression on him. Thank you."

"There is no need to thank me, adar. It was intolerable, as you said, and had to be addressed."

Thranduil nodded. "You asked me about going with your naneth to Dale."

That caught Legolas's attention. He looked up at his father.

"You may go. I have already told Berior and Galithil that they may go, as well, so there is no need for you to make that argument."

Legolas's mouth fell open slightly. "Truly?" he asked, a genuine smile brightening his face.

His father seemed sincerely pleased by that reaction. "Yes," he responded. "And I have informed Hallion that I will not be returning to work until after the festival. I intend to participate in the full hunt with you and your cousins, assuming you and they are agreeable to that."

Legolas stared at him in amazement. "I am certain Berior and Galithil will be very pleased, but I cannot go on this hunt. Nestoreth has forbidden me to even lift my bow until she gives me permission..."

Thranduil shrugged. "You are old enough to decide when you can draw a bow, Legolas. And you do not need Nestoreth's permission to come on the hunt and participate to the extent that you can. I hope you could enjoy yourself, even if you do not manage to bring in a deer just this once." Then he added in what could only be described as a teasing tone. "Or could your pride not bear such a failure."

Legolas grinned at his father. "If Galithil said something similar, I would say that he was goading me. Surely you are not."

"No, I am not because I do not want to face your naneth if you slow your healing by injuring yourself on this hunt. But I do want you to come and try to have some fun with your cousins." He stood, raising Legolas to his feet. Then he draped an arm carefully across Legolas's shoulders, steering him from the room. "Whenever you are properly healed, Dollion suggested to me that what the populace around the stronghold really needs to see is an archery contest between the two of us. Perhaps by the festival, you will be well enough healed for that contest."

Legolas all but staggered to a stop in response to that, staring at his father.

"Dollion told me that I should be worried, but I think I can still best you," Thranduil concluded, not really trying very hard to hide a smirk.

Legolas gave in and laughed. "We will see, adar," he said softly.

*~*~*

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

AN: Elured and Eluchin were King Dior's six-year-old sons, who the servants of Celegorm kidnapped and left to starve in the woods after the attack on Menegroth.

This is the end of To Find the Sun. I will probably post, at some point, two stories that are one chapter each, that stem from this story. One involves Tureden and Legolas and one is Legolas's archery contest with Thranduil. I'll put those in Steps Along the Way. The next part of the main story takes Legolas to Dale and will be started, if not next week, then the week after that.

Thank you so much to everyone that read and especially to those who reviewed. I really appreciate both!