AN: Set immediately after "My Brother's Keeper." Legolas is equivalent of 14 in human years. Written to celebrate the publication of my YA fantasy, Deep as a Tomb (Loose Leaves Press), though only the paperback is out right now.  Read, review, fanfic it, whatever! Enjoy, I hope. -- daw

Chapter 1. An Appeal to the Court

"My lord, surely I cannot be held responsible for the damages." The elf stretched out his arms pleadingly. "The horse bolted!" he said for the third time when Thranduil looked unimpressed.

Propping his head in his free hand, Legolas added the boring sentence to the other stunningly dull sentences on the parchment in front of him and remembered yet again why he avoided the Great Hall on days his father held court. Because he'd slipped out at night to keep watch over Eilian, Thranduil had confined him to his room when not at training or lessons or in his father's presence. Legolas could not help feeling that requiring him to act as scribe in court was beyond whatever punishment he might have deserved.

"Your neighbors say the horse is wild, and they have objected before to your riding it near their gardens," Thranduil said.

"Did they also say both of them threatened to punch me?"

Legolas yawned and wrote. Over the long afternoon, the Great Hall had filled with summer air drifting through the open doors to the antechamber. From where Legolas sat, he could lean a little to his left and look right through the antechamber and Great Doors to see the Green, where elves were busy setting up the tables for tonight's feast. He'd heard them laughing as he made his way to the Hall after his lessons. His stomach rumbled at the smell of the venison roasting on its spit on the Green. Not that Legolas would be allowed out to eat any of it.

"My lord, you understand," the elf said. "We are Wood-elves!"

"Indeed," Thranduil said, "and I value the daring of my people, but if you give in to your worst impulses, you won't need someone else to threaten you. You are a threat to yourself."

Legolas glanced up. Something in his father's voice suggested that this elf wasn't the only daring Wood-elf Thranduil was concerned about. Now that Eilian had recovered from his shadow sickness, he was pressing to go back to the Southern Patrol--his patrol he called it. Legolas had overheard his brother and father arguing about it just that morning.

"Adar," Eilian had said, "what is the point of keeping me here?"

"Your posting is Ithilden's decision," Thranduil snapped in a voice that would have made Legolas back down instantly.

"First, I doubt that, but even so, you can overrule him."

"I am not going to undercut him as Troop Commander, and I am not going to discuss this further."

Legolas had pushed the rest of the way into the dining room at that point and seen Eilian clamp his mouth shut. Legolas himself was glad to have Eilian home, though he saw far too little of him, given that he had to stay in his boring room. He sketched an arrow and then a target. A fly buzzed past his ear, landed on the parchment, and crawled a few steps, smearing the target before taking off. Legolas had heard at training that there would be archery contests at the Grove tonight. Even Annael had sounded willing to sneak off and watch. Turgon had suggested they take their bows and participate but Annael had said his parents were too watchful for that to work. Legolas's grip on his pen tightened. If Annael wanted to see a watchful parent, Legolas knew where he could find one.

Feet pattered back toward the antechamber, and he realized the elf with the wild horse was leaving. He frowned at the parchment. His father's decision didn't seem to be recorded there. Thranduil had said the elf had to make good the damage, right? Maybe share from his own garden or help replant the neighbors'? Thranduil had certainly sounded as if he were building up to that, and it would fit with a judgment he rendered the previous week. Legolas would have to check with the advisor on his father's other side. Galivion had been sympathetic and helped him out before. He had apparently attended enough sleep-inducing court sessions to notice how they tried a normal person's patience.

Legolas looked hopefully at his father, quill in one hand, pen wiper in the other. To his relief, his father was rising. Hastily he wiped his pen.

"My lord," Galivion said softly.

No!

"That was the last case, wasn't it?" Thranduil asked.

"I'm sorry, my lord," Galivion said.

Legolas suppressed a groan as Thranduil sank onto his throne, scowling as if he were choking on a groan of his own.

"The Laketown merchant asked to see you this afternoon," the advisor said, and Legolas realized why he was speaking so quietly. The Man must be in the antechamber.

"I said I would see him tomorrow," Thranduil said, not bothering to keep his voice down at all.

"I told him that, my lord," the advisor said, "but he says he has to leave for home at dawn because the anniversary of his marriage is tomorrow, and his wife expects him."

Thranduil's mouth tightened. "He should have thought of that before he made this trip." He sat back. "Very well. Send him in." He waited while the advisor hastened to the doors and beckoned.

Legolas's brain stirred itself a bit more awake. Men would at least be different, and given his father's obvious irritation, there might even be some sort of angry scene that did not involve Thranduil being angry at Legolas. That would be much more entertaining than the four walls of his room.

He heard a flurry of rustling cloth, scraping shoes, and something heavy moving in the antechamber, before a richly dressed Man swept into the Great Hall, flanked by two others. The Man leaned back under the weight of a wooden chest. Thranduil's face was sour as he watched them approach, but the Man beamed as though sure of his welcome. He stopped halfway to the throne, set the chest down, and dropped to one knee, a movement echoed by the two people with him, and Legolas saw that they were a boy and a girl who were not yet Mannish adults, though he couldn't have guessed their ages. The boy looked enough like the merchant that Legolas guessed he was the Man's son, though the boy's sullen look was nothing like the Man's excited smile. The girl was pretty but so thin that her bright silk clothes bagged around her chest and waist.

"My lord," the advisor said, "this is Merchant Camil, and his son and daughter, Hoth and Jardin."

Thranduil kept silent for a few heartbeats in a move Legolas had seen before and indeed been intimidated by himself. Finally, Thranduil shifted forward on his throne. "Rise and approach."

Hoth and Jardin sprang up while Camil stood and heaved the chest up again. He gave a quick glance around, then thumped the chest onto Legolas's table hard enough that the ink bottle rocked.

"Your Majesty," Camil said, unclasping and opening the chest, "I'm sorry to have pressed so hard to see you, but I'm sure you'll forgive me when you see the goods I have to offer." As he talked, he pulled items from the chest and spread them across the table. Legolas hastily gathered his parchment, quill, and ink and slid his stool back to make room. From the chest came a rainbow of silk and soft wool cloth that Legolas recognized in the trio's clothes; an array of gems--some made into jewelry and some loose; colored embroidery thread; silver cutlery; and several cut glass bottles. Camil opened one and waved it in Thranduil's direction. The scent of some flower Legolas didn't know drifted on the summer air. Hoth and Jardin placed themselves at either end of the table, arranging the jewels. In Mannish terms, he guessed she was close to adulthood, though the boy was about Legolas's size and so probably about his age. The girl smiled at Legolas. She smelled of the same scent that the bottle held. Legolas inhaled surreptitiously.

Face blank, Thranduil said, "As I am sure you are aware, my people import mostly iron and grain, not trinkets."

Suppressing a smile, Legolas pretended to write on the parchment in his lap. Elves valued beauty too much to dismiss the stuff on the table as trinkets, and his father was no exception. Even now, light flashed from the ring on the finger his father was drumming on his arm rest.

"Your Majesty," Camil exclaimed, "surely you appreciate the quality of these wares. Feel this!" He seized a length of scarlet wool and held it out to Thranduil with one hand. "And look at these." With the other hand, he scooped up two or three of the small carved ivory pieces Jardin had just prodded into a heap. Another piece of ivory slid loose and skidded toward Legolas, who caught it and handed it back to Jardin.

"Thank you." As she replaced the jade on the pile, she smiled at him again. Like her father, she wore one of the little ivory charms on a silver chain looped over her ear. Head lowered, Legolas studied the ear's gently rounded top, torn between wanting to touch the exotic curve and avert his gaze at its strangeness. His father's voice drew him back to attention.

"If you leave samples of your wares, my steward will consider them," Thranduil said. Despite Camil's invitation to touch the silk and wool, Thranduil hadn't lifted his hand from the arm of his chair.

"Your Majesty, I cannot wait for an answer. I need to be home. My wife already says I spend too much time at business."

"The day grows late," Thranduil said, "and I must preside at my people's midsummer feast. My steward will send word when we have decided if we wish to buy."

Legolas heard the emphasis on "if" and the annoyance in his father's voice, and he guessed Camil did too. The Man had opened his mouth but now he snapped it shut. For a moment, he frowned at the goods Hoth was hastily packing up again. Then Camil's back straightened, and Hoth paused with a grimace.

"Could we perhaps impose on your hospitality overnight? I can be a bit late tomorrow if necessary. A feast sounds like a wonderful opportunity to meet more of your people."

Camil looked from his children to Legolas. "Perhaps your clerk could introduce Hoth and Jardin to your young people."

Stunned by unexpected hope, Legolas sent his father a pleading look. "I would be more than happy to help, my lord."

"I expect you would," Thranduil said dryly. "You are welcome to stay, Merchant, but---" Before he could crush Legolas's hope entirely, Camil interrupted.

"Your Majesty, there is one other thing. I bear a message from Laketown's mayor. Two weeks ago when one of your rafts was in town, an elf drank too much wine, climbed onto the alehouse roof, and clung to the weathervane to swing to the next roof. The weathervane broke and several roof tiles were knocked loose. The Mayor demands that the elf pays for the damages."

Legolas blinked. That would be…worth seeing, really.

Judging by his father's tone, he was less impressed. Legolas guessed he'd had enough of dealing with damages for one day.

"Who was this elf?" Thranduil demanded.

"We don't know his name, Your Majesty. The mayor asks that you identify him. In any case, he's banned from Laketown. The mayor is considering banning your rafts altogether and shipping goods to you via our own boats."

There was a moment's ominous silence. "The mayor can consider all he likes," Thranduil said, "but his boats are not carrying goods on the Forest River."

The menace in his voice was thick enough that Hoth and Jardin exchanged anxious looks. Camil licked his lips. "I will tell the mayor so, but the elf is still banned and the damages need to be paid."

"I will see to it," Thranduil said. "How much?"

Legolas was no judge of how reasonable the figure Camil named was, but Thranduil gave a curt nod, so it couldn't have been too preposterous. That didn't surprise him. Few people, be they Elves, Men, or misbehaving sons, approached his father with unreasonable demands. With the possible exception of Eilian, of course.

"In the meantime," Camil said, turning toward Legolas again, "perhaps we can repair some of the bad feelings tonight. What do you say, young fellow?" He smiled. "You can show my son and daughter that not all elves are wild, eh?"

Legolas met his father's gaze. Thranduil sighed. "Very well. My steward will show you to your accommodations. Legolas will await Hoth and Jardin in the antechamber in an hour." As Legolas fought back the urge to thrust his fist into the air and cheer, Camil and his family left the Hall, leaving the chest behind.

Thranduil watched them go. "He put the mayor's message off until last because he was afraid it would ruin my temper."

If that's what Camil was afraid of, then he was right, Legolas thought. Although, to be fair, his father's temper had probably been ruined from the moment the merchant ignored his wish to delay seeing him for a day.

"Thank you, Adar," Legolas said.

Thranduil turned toward him. "You are not going to this feast in order to amuse yourself. You are old enough that I expect you to be gracious to our guests and behave with discretion."

"Of course." Legolas resisted the urge to say that if he was old enough to entertain his father's guests, he was also old enough to be allowed out at night. Despite how much he liked having Eilian home, Legolas understood his brother's frustration over having his life ruled by their father as if he were an elfling. He gathered his parchment, ink, and pen and edged toward the doorway. "By your leave?"

Thranduil's mouth curved almost imperceptibly. "Go."

Unable to believe his luck, Legolas hurried out, passing his oldest brother in the doorway.

"You look happy," Ithilden said. "Adar in a good mood?"

"Ha!" Legolas grinned at him. Ignoring Ithilden's flinch, he broke into a trot. He didn't intend to waste a single moment of his unexpected freedom.

  .

AN: Set immediately after "My Brother's Keeper." Legolas is equivalent of 14 in human years. Written to celebrate the publication of my YA fantasy, Deep as a Tomb (Loose Leaves Press), though only the paperback is out right now.  Read, review, fanfic it, whatever! Enjoy, I hope. -- daw

Chapter 2. From Court to Courting

As Ithilden strode toward his father's throne, he saw why Legolas had laughed at the idea of Thranduil being in a good mood. Thranduil stood on the dais, scowling down at Galivion, whose hands were knotted together behind his back.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," Galivion said, sounding respectful but not particularly contrite, "but you know how important our trade with Laketown is."

Ithilden admired the Elf's nerve. Galivion's fearlessness was one of the reasons he was vital to Thranduil, and Thranduil knew it.

"You may go," Thranduil said stiffly.

Galivion bowed and then marched to the door, nodding to Ithilden as he passed.

When Ithilden began to drop to one knee, Thranduil blew out his breath and flicked his hand to stop him, but Ithilden was here as his king's Troop Commander, not his father's son, so he touched his knee to the floor anyway. "My lord."

Recognizing the signal Ithilden was sending, Thranduil reseated himself, spine straight, and beckoned Ithilden to him. "What now?"

"My lord, two days ago, the Southern Patrol encountered a large band of Orcs. They destroyed most of them, but when the battle was over, they discovered one of their number was missing."

"Who?"

"Gelmir."

Thranduil flinched, as Ithilden had done when he heard the news. They would have grieved for the loss of any warrior, but Gelmir was Eilian's best friend. Ithilden had known him since he was a toddler. Gelmir had one vomited all over Ithilden after eating too many honey cakes at a feast.

"They found no body?" Thranduil smoothed out his face and kept his voice as flat as Ithilden was trying to keep his.

"No, sir."

"No sign of him at all?"

"I worry they may be just seeing what they wished to see, but they thought his tracks might be mixed in with those of the Orcs."

"The Orcs took him?"

"Maybe, though as I say, I hate to hold out false hope. But they have been known to take captives if they wanted a supply of fresh meat at their den." Ithilden drew a breath to force down the queasiness in his stomach. "I had difficulty prying a clear picture of what happened out of the messenger, but it appears that in the heat of the moment half a dozen of the patrol's warriors went after him without orders from Sorion. They had yet to reappear when Sorion sent the messenger."

Thranduil barked a mirthless laugh. "I must say it's hard to tell whom to be angry with."

"Exactly," Ithilden said grimly. Heads would roll but he had not yet decided whose.

"Have you told Gelmir's family?"

"No, sir. I am probably being as foolish as his fellow warriors, but I seem to be hoping they'll find him. I judged it best to wait until the news is certain."

Thranduil looked at him thoughtfully. "It is, of course, your decision, and I trust you completely."

"Thank you, Adar." Ithilden accepted the comfort his father was offering and deliberately thought of other things. He felt a flash of anticipation for the upcoming evening. "I should change before the feast. By your leave?"

Thranduil held up a hand to stop him. "I am sorry, but I have a task for you to do before the feast begins."

"Of course." Ithilden had all evening to ask Alfirin to dance. She would agree, right? Some unfortunate events had occurred on the two occasions they had walked out together, including him ripping her bodice in an attempt to put out the fire in her shawl. But she had called him by name the last time he saw her, though he suspected that had been an accident. Giving himself time to scout out the situation before he approached her was a good idea.

"I just spoke with a Laketown merchant named Camil, and he told me a tale about one of our raft Elves." Thranduil repeated what struck Ithilden as a disturbingly likely story about a raft Elf. "Find out who the Elf was and pay him a visit. Tell him what the mayor wants and scare the truth out of him."

"I believe I can manage that." Ithilden hated to admit it, but scaring people came more naturally to him than courting a maiden. He had always believed he had the more useful skill, but lately he'd had his doubts. "You say you want the truth. Do you think this  Camil lied to you?"

"Maybe. Something about him made me uneasy." Thranduil pressed his lips into a thin line. "Trade is important, but I will not be deceived." He rose, descended from the dais, and walked toward the door with his hand on Ithilden's shoulder. Ithilden assumed his father had more to say, but Thranduil seemed uncharacteristically hesitant.

When they reached the antechamber, Ithilden decided he had been mistaken. "I will see what I can find out. By your leave?"

But Thranduil kept his grip and steered him toward the family quarters. "Dress for the feast before you go. You deserve a chance to dance too."

Ithilden gave a short laugh. "I take it you are tired of waiting for grandchildren?"

Thranduil smiled. "I am, and you know I like Alfirin."

"What I know is that you are resisting the urge to ask me how things stand between us, and I appreciate your discretion."

Thranduil snapped his mouth shut on whatever indiscreet question hovered there. They were parting to go to their own chambers before Thranduil said, "Ithilden, don't tell Eilian about Gelmir yet."

Ithilden dragged his mind back to his job. "The messenger should hold his tongue as a matter of course, and I reminded him to keep quiet, but Eilian was his captain for a long time, and will certainly hear that one of his warriors is home. It may be hard to keep him in the dark."

"I know. Do what you can. He is not yet fully over his shadow sickness."

#

As he knocked on the cottage door, Ithilden pulled himself to his full height and raised his elbows from his side, making himself as big as possible. It had been easy to learn that Arost was the raft Elf who had gone wild in Laketown. For one thing, Arost had broken a leg during his adventure, something Camil had evidently neglected to mention to Thranduil.

The door was opened by Arost's wife, Ilenia. "My lord!" She glanced behind her, keeping the door half closed to block Ithilden's view. "I…This is unexpected."

Ithilden believed that easily enough. "I heard Arost was injured and thought I would pay him a visit."

"Arost is sleeping," Ilenia said.

"Who is it, Ilenia?" Arost called.

"Ah, good. He has awakened," Ithilden said blandly.

She grimaced but stepped aside and opened the door. "Please come in."

Ithilden stepped into the hallway, made much narrower by the shelves and stacks of Laketown goods along one wall. The cottage smelled pleasantly of exotic spices. Ilenia showed him into the sitting room where Arost sat with his splinted leg propped on a stool. His eyes widened at the sight of Ithilden.

"I will make tea." Ilenia escaped to the kitchen.

Ithilden gestured toward a chair. "May I sit?"

"Of course, my lord," Arost said faintly.

Ithilden made himself comfortable, and using a technique he'd learned from his father, he let the silence stretch between them until Arost blurted, "It is kind of you to visit, my lord."

"Not really," Ithilden said. "I heard you broke your leg swinging across the roofs of Laketown."

Arost groaned. "My lord, I don't know what got into me."

"Wine, by Merchant Camil's account."

"Well, yes, but I never drink wine, so I have no idea why I did that day."

"Wood-elves like a cup of wine," Ithilden observed as neutrally as he could.

"I like it too. Too much as a matter of fact, so I vowed not to have it."

"He's telling the truth, my lord." Ilenia entered with a tea tray in time to hear. "Before that trip, he had kept away from it for over three years."

Ithilden took the heavy tray from her and reseated himself as she poured. She set a cup of tea on the table at Arost's elbow, then settled close enough to lay her hand on top of his. "Is the king angry?" she asked.

"Yes, but he has yet to decide how angry and with whom." Ithilden leaned back, relaxing his threat. "Tell me what happened."

"The Men in that alehouse were out of control that day," Arost said. "Everyone was drinking. I saw at least three fistfights, and then when it came to bargaining, Camil was impossible to deal with. He was passing out samples of all these new goods from the East and demanding a fortune for them. And then a Man wagered he could beat me to the gate and back, and I was drunk enough to take the bet." He turned his hand palm up to close it around his wife's fingers. "I am sorry, Ilenia."

"I know," she said. "I understand."

Ithilden did too. He himself was enough of a Wood-elf to enjoy wagering. Combined with the Man's arrogance in challenging an Elf, it would have been hard to resist. "The mayor wants the damages paid, plus he says you are not allowed back into Laketown."

Arost sat bolt upright. "I have to go back! How else can I earn my living? Besides, my raft needs me to do their bargaining. They went without me this last time, and they won't admit it, but I am sure the wine merchant cheated them."

Ithilden ran his hand over his tight braids. The raft Elves worked together with the same crewmates for years on end. Arost's raft probably did need him. "It's possible that if you pay the damages, all will be forgiven. They may not even recognize you if you stay away long enough. Men sometimes have trouble telling us apart."

"The merchants I deal with will know me."

"True, but that could work to your advantage if you have proven trustworthy in the past. You'd only need to keep away from the mayor and the people whose property you damaged." Ithilden shoved away the thought of how furious he'd be if Laketown's mayor encouraged one of his people to flout Thranduil's laws. Men's blindness was not Ithilden's problem.

Arost pursed his lips. "Will the payment go to the alehouse owner?"

"And whoever owned the house with damaged roof," Ithilden said.

"I don't mind paying that," Arost said, "but I resent spending coin that only enriches the mayor."

Ilenia cleared her throat. "If you want to go back, the mayor might need a gift."

Ithilden couldn't suppress the twitch of his mouth. "How cynical of you."

"You mean how accurate," she said.

Ithilden laughed. "'Dare a Wood-elf, but pay a Man'?"

"It's a true saying," she said.

"I will tell the king what you told me," Ithilden said. "Send the coin to him. He will see to it that you aren't cheated." He rose to leave, escorted by a smiling Ilenia. In the hall, he paused at the shelves crammed with goods. "You haven't passed these on to whoever ordered them here?"

"There were no orders ahead of time," Ilenia said, "because these are new wares. Camil sent these, wanting to have them already here once he located buyers. I assume that's why he made the trip today."

Ithilden raised an eyebrow. The arrangement was legal but unusual and quite presumptuous. Maybe this was what Thranduil had sensed that put him on edge.

Ilenia picked up a bit of carved ivory on a short silver chain. "You have been so kind, my lord. Here. Camil gave Arost several of these pretty little carvings. Give this one to your sweetheart."

Did she mean Alfirin? His throat closed at the thought of people gossiping about his awkward courting of the healer's daughter. "I regret to say I have none."

Her hand faltered and the little charm spun so he glimpsed its carving--a flared shape, perhaps a seashell. "That cannot be right, my lord." She took a tentative step closer. "Perhaps you simply need to show off a little more." With gentle fingers, she wove the trinket into one of his braids, then stepped back and smiled at him. "Have a good time at the feast."

"Thank you," he said stiffly and took his leave. The charm brushed his ear as he walked toward the Green. She doubtless meant to be kind, but he was half angry with her for intruding on his private life. As he drew near the feast, he heard music and a buzz of voices from Green, but even more he heard a whisper in his own head saying, You have made a complete fool of yourself over Alfirin and everyone has heard.

He emerged from the trees to find the Green aswirl with dancers. He started around the tables lined with feasters, heading for the head table where his father sat, then jammed to a halt when he glimpsed Legolas's blond head. Why wasn't he in his room? Ithilden contemplated his little brother for a moment, then walked on. Legolas could not possibly have nerve enough to show up on the Green without Thranduil's permission. He passed a Man who had to be Merchant Camil, reaching across a nearby table to show samples of his wares to the elves seated behind them. Beyond Camil, he spotted Gelmir's parents, their heads together, both looking worried. His stomach tightened. Gelmir's mother looked up as Ithilden passed and raised a hand as if to stop him, but she let it fall again when he kept walking.

You sent their son to die, the voice in his head whispered. All happy anticipation buried beneath his guilt, he walked on toward the head table where his father sat.

AN: Set immediately after "My Brother's Keeper." Legolas is equivalent of 14 in human years. Written to celebrate the publication of my YA fantasy, Deep as a Tomb (Loose Leaves Press).  Read, review, fanfic it, whatever! Enjoy, I hope. -- daw

Chapter 3. Old Enough

Legolas forked up the last bit of venison on his plate. "Are you sure you don't want some?" he asked Jardin, who was squeezed close enough on the bench that he smelled her perfume through the luscious smell of roasting meat.

She shook her head, making her earring dance. She and her brother both wore the same clothes they'd worn in the Hall, though the road dust had been brushed off, and Hoth had pinned one of the ivory trinkets to his high collar, probably in an effort to look more dressed up. They'd obviously not been expecting to go to a feast. Of course, Legolas hadn't either, and he still couldn't believe he was here where the forest sang its night song and stars dusted the sky. He'd almost forgotten how glorious night was.

Hoth slid his plate in front of his sister. "Try the meat. It's good."

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

Legolas eyed the sticklike arm emerging from her sleeve. Maybe some grief kept her from eating. Did Men fade or was that only elves?

Hoth took the plate back, but his eyes were on his father leaning across a nearby table with a length of bright cloth draped across his arm. "Father is busy."

Jardin's mouth tightened. "How unexpected," she said, curling her lip.

"Mae govannen, Legolas," a girl's voice said, and he looked up to see Aerlinn, with Miriwen half hidden behind her. Miriwen looked away as soon as his eyes met hers. His face grew warm. "Will you introduce us to your friends?" Aerlinn fluttered her eyelashes at Hoth, who missed it because he was still turned to watch his father.

"These are Hoth and Jardin, the children of Merchant Camil." Legolas nodded toward where Camil was showing samples of his wares to Miriwen's parents. "These are Aerlinn and Miriwen." Did his voice sound funny when he said Miriwen's name? He caught Jardin giving him a slight smile. The heat from his face climbed all the way to the tips of his ears.

"Welcome." Aerlinn tore her gaze away from Hoth and back to Legolas, then reached for Miriwen's arm and dragged her forward. "The dancing will start soon."

Miriwen's gaze flitted to Legolas's face and darted away again. Even in the dark, he thought her cheeks looked pink.

I should say something, he thought, but his throat and even his brain seemed paralyzed.

"We look forward to it," Hoth said, and Aerlinn's face brightened.

"My naneth is calling me." Miriwen shook Aerlinn's hand off her arm and walked away. Aerlinn blew out her breath and scuttled after her, as if afraid to be on her own. Girls did that. Legolas did not know why, but getting one alone was almost impossible. Everything happened with an audience.

Music sang out across the Green, and elves flooded from behind the tables to dance. The thought popped into Legolas's head that he should go after Miriwen, but no, it would be rude to abandon Jardin and Hoth, so he couldn't. Next time, maybe. The tightness in his stomach eased.

"Prince Legolas!" Camil blocked Legolas's view of Miriwen and her family. "I didn't realize you were the king's son. My apologies."

"It's all right. You don't have to say 'prince.' Wood-elves don't say that," Legolas said.

"Well, I apologize anyway." Camil held out one of the ivory charms. "Please accept this as a gift." He dropped it onto Legolas's palm. "You can--"

"Oh good," Hoth said. "Three extra coins for us."

Legolas snapped his glance Hoth's way. What was he talking about? Camil had made a gift of the charm.

"Hoth!" Camil scowled.

"Am I mistaken? One coin for men, three for elves?"

"Don't be a child," Camil said, face reddening.

"Are you still taking mother out to dine tomorrow?" Hoth interrupted.

"You know it will be too late." Camil's brows drew down. "We'll go a different day."

"That's what I thought." Hoth crossed his arms, looking steadily at his father.

Without answering, Camil smoothed his hair, bowed to Legolas, and moved along to the next table.

Legolas twisted the charm's silver chain around his fingers. He felt like an intruder who had just spied on something intimate. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jardin pat Hoth's arm. He scanned the Green looking for something else to focus on, and found Thranduil gazing straight at him. He scowled down at his empty plate. He hadn't been out of his father's sight for far too long.

"Your father is keeping an eye on you." Hoth's voice had a bitter edge. "I assume sitting at a table isn't what you usually do at feasts."

Legolas shrugged and buried his face in his cup of watered wine.

Jardin tapped his other hand where the charm lay hidden. "You should give that to Miriwen and ask her to dance."

Legolas's stomach fluttered. He shoved the charm in his pocket. "Maybe later."

"It's easy," Hoth said. "Watch." He rose.

"Hoth." Jardin put out her hand to stop him, but he was on his way to where Miriwen and Aerlinn sat on a blanket spread under a maple. At Hoth's approach, Miriwen turned to Aerlinn, but then she look up with wide eyes as he spoke. She shook her head, but Hoth said something more, and when Aerlinn prodded her, she took the hand he offered and let him lead her into the dancing.

As Hoth tried and failed to follow the lively leaping and spinning of the elves dancing around him, lightness filled Legolas's chest. Of course, Hoth didn't know the steps. How could he? Just as Legolas began to feel sorry for him, Hoth laughed. Laughing back, Miriwen took his hands and steered him through part of the dance. The lightness evaporated. Hoth raised Miriwen's hand over her head and twirled her until she staggered against him, still laughing.

"Do you like working with your father?" Jardin's voice pierced the roar in Legolas's ears, and he turned toward her.

"Court is usually pretty tedious," he managed. "Is your father's work interesting?"

She shrugged. "It's all right." Her mouth twisted as she looked over Legolas's shoulder to where he could hear Camil offering his wares to the elves at the next table. "Lately he doesn't know when to stop though. Once my mother discovers we're all unhurt, she isn't going to be happy we didn't come home tonight."

"Legolas! What are you doing here?" Turgon's voice announced his arrival right before he slapped Legolas on the back.

Already grinning, Legolas turned to find Annael and Turgon behind them.

Turgon darted a look at where Thranduil and Ithilden sat with their heads bent close together talking. "Does your adar know you're here?" he asked in Sindarin.

"Of course. This is Jardin." Steering the talk into Common, Legolas introduced his friends.

"We're going to the Grove to see the archery," Turgon said. "Want to come?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow at Annael, who grimaced and shrugged. Legolas had no trouble interpreting the situation. Turgon had made up his mind and not being able to stop him, Annael had dithered and then given in. It took him longer these days, but so far he always did.

Hoth chose that moment to return, having left Miriwen to hurry back to Aerlinn's side. Legolas regarded him with narrowed eyes meant to send a message though he wasn't quite sure what it was. Hoth cocked his head and smiled.  "See? Easy."

Legolas introduced Hoth to Turgon and Annael, having to raise his voice over the quarrel that had broken out at the next table. "You just took it!" "I'll get you more." "That's not the point! It was mine."

Hoth and Jardin exchanged a look. "Makes you feel right at home, doesn't it?" he said.

"Elves hardly ever fight like that," Legolas protested.

"Those two argue a lot," Turgon said.

A wine cup sailed past close enough that Annael had to skip out of the way. "Not like that," he murmured.

"We were about to go watch archery," Turgon said, with his typical single-mindedness.

"If you want to see what Wood-elves can do, you should come."

"I don't think--" Hoth began.

Legolas rose. "Come on. Archery is easy." When Hoth frowned, Legolas knew he should be ashamed of himself for making his guest feel bad, but he just couldn't manage it.

Annael looked at him sideways. Slowly he smiled. "Legolas knows good archery when he sees it."

So, Legolas thought, we are going to do this. He looked to be sure his father was still absorbed in whatever Ithilden was saying, then led the way toward the path that would take them off the torchlit Green and into the starshine lighting the way through the trees. He knew the way to the Grove. Everybody did, even when they pretended not to.

The sound of cheering and laughter greeted them as they approached the place where young elves often gathered to drink and flirt more boldly than they would have done in front of their parents. Legolas silently practiced his excuse: Hoth and Jardin wanted to go, Adar. You said I should be a good host.

It was a good excuse, but he still slipped into the clearing as unobtrusively as he could.

"You're the guests," he said, gesturing for the Mannish pair to go ahead.

"I have coin," Turgon said. "I'll buy the wine." He trotted off.

Rather than the usual dancing or gaming, the elves here tonight were gathered at the clearing's other side, their backs blocking Legolas's view. He didn't need to see to know what was happening, though, because he heard the twang of a bowstring and the thwack of an arrow hitting a target. He hurried forward, searching for a gap he could use to see.

"Your turn, Eilian," someone said. "Let's see you beat that."

Legolas stumbled to a halt, then moved more carefully, keeping himself half screened from where the archers were. A few months ago, he had suggested that Eilian take him to the Grove, and Eilian had reacted as if Legolas wanted to pet a giant spider. "You go," Legolas had said. "You don't," Eilian had answered.

Legolas found a gap next to an elf with an ivory earring and a length of Camil's cloth draped around his shoulders like a shawl. He needn't have worried. With an arrow already on his string, Eilian had his gaze on a small target thirty or so yards away, not much of a distance for a Wood-elf, but archers were evidently supposed to hit not only the target, but also one of the tiny marks scattered across the target's face.

"The star," Eilian said. He raised his bow, drew, and released in one fluid motion, and the arrow punched its way into a star draw on the target's topmost edge. The audience cheered. The elf next to Legolas crowed and put his hand out to collect a coin from the one on his other side.

"See?" Legolas said to Hoth. "Wood-elves are great archers." He darted a look at Jardin before adding. "I could have hit that mark myself."

"I'm sure." Hoth snorted.

"He could have," Annael said, and Legolas felt a warm flush of gratitude for his friend's understanding and support.

"Who's that shooting?" Jardin leaned a little forward, regarding Eilian with parted lips.

"Eilian. My brother." Legolas puffed out a small breath. Mannish girls and Elf maids apparently shared some interests. He looked again at his brother whose back was being slapped by a friend whose glassy eyes suggested he was drunk. Eilian was sober enough though, or he probably wouldn't have made that shot.

Tension seeped out of Legolas's shoulder. Partly Eilian was just behaving himself because he wanted their father to let him go south again, but he genuinely was fine. Thranduil was being too fussy, as usual, babying a son who was clearly able to judge his behavior for himself.

"Here." Turgon had returned with a fan of mugs clutched in each hand. Legolas took one and sipped wine that decidedly was not mixed with water. No wonder Eilian's friend was drunk.

Eilian made way for another archer, who stepped into place and squinted at the target.

The elf next to Legolas spoke quickly to his friend, exhaling the scent of wine. "I wager the same that he misses."

"Done," his friend said.

The new archer called, "The lightning bolt." He raised his bow and drew.

"Spider!" shouted the elf next to Legolas.

The shooter's arrow flew into the trees, and with frightening speed, a dozen elves had drawn bows and were swiveling their arrows from side to side. Legolas scanned frantically in the dark, seeing nothing.

The elf next to Legolas laughed. "It was joke! And I win my bet." He elbowed the elf next to him.

Murmurs rose like a growl in the rest of the crowd. "You fool," Eilian said. "Someone could have been shot."

As Eilian turned toward the jokester, Legolas slid away, ducking so as not to catch his brother's eye. Turgon and Annael doubtless knew why he'd moved, and they slouched after him. After a moment, Jardin and Hoth came too.

"I think we've seen enough of what Wood-elves can do," Hoth said. "Let's go back to the dancing. Miriwen was teaching me just what elf maids like."

Legolas clenched his fists. For some reason, the Mannish boy was being a deliberate pain, like he had to have everyone's attention.

"Really, Hoth." Jardin frowned at her brother.

"I know something much better than dancing." Turgon glared at Hoth. "Something very Wood-elfy." With a cautious glance toward where Eilian was still hidden in a crowd, he marched off to a path on the clearing's other side.

Legolas rocked from foot to foot. How much would his excuse cover?

Jardin slipped her hand through his arm, making a warm pressure he felt right through his sleeve. "I'd like to see this Wood-elfy thing."

Legolas's heart slipped sideways in his chest. "Of course." He lifted his wine to finish it, then sniffed at the strong smell, and decided he was pushing his boundaries far enough. Jardin handed him her untouched mug, and he set them both on a rickety table before leading her after Turgon, with Annael shooing Hoth along in their wake. Behind him, a quarrel seemed to have broken out among the archers.

AN: Set immediately after "My Brother's Keeper." Legolas is equivalent of 14 in human years. Written to celebrate the publication of my YA fantasy, Deep as a Tomb (Loose Leaves Press).  Read, review, fanfic it, whatever! Enjoy, I hope. -- daw

ETA: My apologies for being slow with this. I'm working on some original stuff too, and, well, the election. I hope this chapter is a useful distraction.

Chapter 4. Playing with Fire

Eilian strode away from the crowd at the makeshift archery range, sucking on his skinned knuckles and then shaking his hand. What had got into everyone tonight? The last thing he needed was for his father to hear he'd been in a brawl, and Thranduil was unlikely to be impressed by Eilian claiming he'd just been breaking up the fight, even though that was true. Eilian could hear him now: "You should have taken yourself out of the situation, Eilian." All right. Fine, Eilian thought, jaw tightening. He'd go some place else, though if his father really wanted him to stay out of trouble, he'd let Eilian go back to his patrol.

The narrow trail turned, and he saw the glow of the fire ahead. He picked up his pace, spurred on by energy that had been pent up for too long.

"Careful now!" someone shouted. Calólas, Eilian thought, not someone usually given to care. Good, that would be fun.

He emerged from the trees to see a slim form leaping over the fire, arms out, front leg reaching for a landing. The sight was so unexpected that it took two heartbeats for Eilian to recognize the jumper as Legolas. Eilian jammed to a halt as everything in his body seemed to stop working. Then Legolas landed, caught his balance, and triumphantly stretched his arms overhead. Everyone clapped, as Legolas wheeled and ran back to a knot of other younglings, including Turgon and Annael and, surprisingly, a Mannish boy and girl.

Turgon skipped away from the others to the place where anyone fire jumping here always started. Eilian moved faster though, and closed his hand firmly around Turgon's arm. Turgon jerked before his eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but Eilian snarled, "Shut it, Turgon."

The watchers all hooted. "Don't be such a nanny, Eilian!" Calólas shouted. "Let him jump."

Eilian paused in dragging Turgon out of danger long enough to snap, "If any of them is so much as singed, I will break you in two."

Calólas laughed, but the laugh shook and everyone else avoided Eilian's eyes, as if that would hide them.

Eilian let go of Turgon's arm only when he arrived at the spot where Legolas stood with his arms crossed and his jaw thrust out. Annael had the sense to study a nearby maple as if he'd never seen one before, but the Mannish pair both regarded him with wide eyes. The boy looked to be whatever the Mannish equivalent of Legolas's age was, but the painfully thin girl, Eilian now saw, was older, probably nearing adulthood. The whole group of them smelled of half-frightened excitement.

"Back off, Eilian," Legolas said in Sindarin.

"What are you doing out of the palace?" Eilian asked in the same tongue. He had no more desire to chew his brother out in words their guests would understand than Legolas had to have his dignity stripped from him.

"Adar asked me to play host for Hoth and Jardin," Legolas said, having the nerve to sound smug.

"Not to take them here, I'll bet." Eilian pointed at Turgon and Annael. "You three are all too young. Go back to the feast, and take your guests." He snatched away the mug of wine Turgon was taking from Annael and emptied the contents over a nearby bush with a gentle splash that was nearly drowned out by Turgon's squawk of protest.

"How old were you the first time you fire jumped?" Legolas demanded.

"We're talking about you, not me." Eilian tried to keep his face blank, but Legolas's snort meant he knew Eilian too well.

"This is your brother?" the girl--Jardin?--interrupted, and Eilian realized he and Legolas were being rude by speaking so long in a language their guests didn't understand. She'd even heard her name and must wonder if they were talking about her. "We saw you at the archery." Jardin smiled. "That shot was impressive."

"So was Legolas's jump," Annael murmured in Common.

Eilian caught the frown on Legolas's face. Surely his little brother hadn't jumped to impress a girl. He was too young for that. A memory of his first jump popped without invitation into Eilian's head. There'd been a girl, though he couldn't remember which one.

"I think I could jump that," Hoth said. Legolas glared at him, and Eilian instantly felt better. He liked the idea of Legolas competing with Hoth much better than him being old enough to think about girls.

"No, you can't," Eilian said firmly. "You're not allowed until you're older. So you all have to leave."

"No one else said we weren't allowed," Turgon said.

Eilian resisted the urge to swat him. "Legolas, Adar is looking for you."

"He never told you that," Legolas scoffed. "You didn't even know I was here."

"It's true anyway," Eilian said. "Do you want me to escort you back to the Green?"

Annael took two steps toward the path. Legolas glanced at him and then at Eilian. "We're fine without you," Legolas said. "Come on, Turgon. Hoth?" The other boys slowly went after him and Annael, but the girl stayed put.

Hoth looked over his shoulder at his sister. "Are you coming, Jardin?"

"I believe I'll stay and watch," she said. "Father said to talk up his wares, and here's a chance to speak to new people." She removed an earring on a silver chain and looped it over Eilian's left ear. "Tell everyone where you got it." Her hand lingered on the sensitive tip of Eilian's ear until he lifted it away.

"I'll do that." His voice was surprisingly normal. She probably had no idea how intimate that touch felt to an Elf. He hoped. That would be a complication he did not need. He drew a deep breath and realized the boys had gone.

"Are you going to jump?" she asked.

He turned toward the fire, which Calólas had built up higher. He probably shouldn't. Thranduil would accuse him of setting a bad example for Legolas. Also, the healers had been encouraging him to recognize that his hunger for danger sometimes verged on self-destruction, and that his Shadow Sickness used that hunger to lure him into dark places.

Oh, come on, whispered a voice in his head. You've been careful, and what good has it done? You need to feel alive again.

He moved to the starting point, calculating how high he'd have to leap to clear those flames. Calólas crowed, "Yes, Eilian!" Everyone else turned toward him too. He set himself, shutting off the sight of sound of everything but the fire. He flexed his knees, dug in his toes, and hurled himself forward. At the last instant, he flung out his leg so he'd spin as he skimmed the top of the flames. There was in instant of heat, and then he was on his feet again.

The crowd burst into cheers. He strolled back to Jardin.

"That was amazing!" she cried.

"Thank you." He turned toward the blazing fire, with a chill lifting the hair on his neck. Curse the healers anyway. If they hadn't been interfering with his mind, he'd feel like he was flying right now. Instead, he wondered uneasily if the feeling that drove him to jump had felt too much like Shadow Sickness.

"I think, though," Jardin said, "that I'd like to go back to the feast and get something to eat. Do you mind?"

"Of course not." He knew better than to say it, but given how thin she was, he'd be happy to fetch her food. He offered her his arm, and they walked together toward the path.

AN: Set immediately after "My Brother's Keeper." Legolas is equivalent of 14 in human years. Written to celebrate the publication of my YA fantasy, Deep as a Tomb (Loose Leaves Press).  Read, review, fanfic it, whatever! Enjoy, I hope. -- daw

Chapter 5. Out of Sorts

Legolas strode along the narrow path back to the Green, his heart pumping hot blood through his veins, though he couldn't tell if that was leftover excitement from his first fire jump or fury at Eilian for ruining it. Eilian was probably flirting with Jardin right that instant, and she was probably fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Behind Legolas, Turgon grumbled non-stop. "Eilian sounds more like Ithilden every day. He used to be fun. What do you want to bet he's jumping right now?"

"No bet," Legolas said. "Of course he is."

"Your jump was great, Legolas," Annael said.

Legolas looked over his shoulder and gave him a half smile. Trust Annael to try to smooth things over. At the back of the group, Hoth had stopped and turned to look toward where Eilan was probably jumping an even higher flame than Legolas had, the hypocrite. Hoth took a step that way.

"Don't do it, Hoth," Legolas said. "Believe me, my brother will drag you away by the ear once he's decided it's unsafe for you to be there."

Hoth halted his walk but didn't turn toward Legolas.

"Come on," Annael said. "They'll be serving the tarts by now." He gave Hoth a friendly slap on the shoulder, and the boy started toward the Green again, hands jammed in his pockets, head down. The thought of berry tarts lightened Legolas's mood a little. He could already feel the summery sweetness on his tongue.

On the edge of the Green, Legolas was startled to find two elves with their faces shoved close together, shouting. "I won that race and you know it!" one cried. Legolas steered clear. Everyone was out of sorts tonight.

The table where they'd been sitting was occupied by a group of warriors, but the next table was empty, the fighting family having apparently gone home. There was a drop of something that could have been blood, but was probably meat juice in the place where Legolas sat.

"Hoth and I will fetch tarts," Annael said and led the boy away.

Turgon started to sit but caught himself. "I'll get wine, but it'll be watered here." He went off, still grumbling.

Legolas propped his head in his hand and shot a sidelong look to where Miriwen and Aerlinn had been joined by two other maidens. How was anyone supposed to get near them? His father was fortunately occupied listening to one of his advisers. Maybe Thranduil hadn't even noticed Legolas had left the Green.

Someone slid onto the bench next to him. He turned, expecting Turgon or Annael and found Jardin with Eilian settling next to her holding a heaping place of roast venison and fried mushrooms, which he set in front of Jardin. She forked up a big mouthful, then chewed with her eyes shut and a blissful hum.

"You didn't stay long at the fire," Legolas said as snottily as he could. "How did your jump go?"

Eilian smiled blandly and was saved the trouble of answering when Turgon, Annael, and Hoth arrived at the same time, laden with tarts and wine.

"You're eating." Hoth's smile widened as he sat across from his sister. "Good."

Turgon distributed mugs. "I paid for the wine we had at the Grove," he said to Eilian. "That would be the wine you took."

"How foolish," Eilian said. "It's free here."

Aware of how rude it would be to engage his brother in a full-blown quarrel in front of guests, Legolas bit back what he wanted to say and stuffed his mouth with a tart from the plate Annael set down. His mouth was still full when Camil approached.

"Daughter, it's good to see you with an appetite! Prince Eilian, I see you're wearing one of my earrings. Would you be interested in any of my other jewels?" He held out a palm full of stones that glittered in the starlight.

Hoth slammed his mug on the table hard enough that wine slopped over his fingers. "Do you have to sell all the time? Can't we ever think or talk about anything else?"

Turgon and Annael shrank away on either side of Hoth. Legolas felt his own mouth fall open and hastily swallowed the last of his tart before it dribbled down his front.

Face reddening, Camil said, "The Eastern merchant will pick someone else to pass his goods along. I notice you like the extra money well enough." He bowed in Eilian's direction. "My apologies for my son's rudeness, sir."

"Are there more tarts, Father?" Jardin bit her lip, obviously distressed.

"I'll get them." Eilian bounded to his feet, probably having enough family fights of his own, but one of the warriors from the next table had approached.

"Captain?" he said. "How are you?"

"Much better. I'll be back with you soon," Eilian said.

Legolas realized the warrior must be from Eilian's patrol. His anger at Eilian subsided to be replaced by a familiar worry. Could Eilian really be going back to his patrol soon? No one had told him Legolas that.

Hoth was still glaring at his father, and having lost Eilian's attention, Camil shifted his weight and refused to meet his son's gaze. "Jardin," Camil said. "Come with me. Prince Eilian has matters to deal with and I saw where the tarts were being served." He helped his daughter climb over the bench and led her away, his back rigid.

Anxious to know when his brother was leaving, Legolas eavesdropped shamelessly as Eilian's warrior said, "The Troop Commander told you what happened?"

Before Eilian answered, Legolas saw over the Southern Patrol warrior's shoulder that his father was looking straight at him. Thranduil raised his hand and beckoned. With a sigh, Legolas freed himself from the bench and walked slowly to the head table. He stopped directly across from Thranduil. The only other person near enough to hear was Ithilden, who was leaning back in his chair, with his arms crossed, watching a group of people on the other side of the Green.

"Where have you been?" Thranduil asked.

Before Legolas could try out his excuse, Eilian charged up to face Ithilden, breathing hard. Fury rolled off him in a wave of heat that made Legolas step away.

"Why didn't you tell me about Gelmir?" he demanded.

"It wasn't your business." Ithilden unfolded his arms.

"Of course it was! It's my patrol, and it's Gelmir!"

"What about Gelmir?" Legolas asked, but his brothers were so intent on one another that they didn't even blink in his direction.

"It's not your patrol at the moment," Ithilden said, "and it won't be until your judgment is recovered."

"There's nothing wrong with my judgment and you know it." Eilian leaned in and braced his hands on the table. "I'm going back with the messenger in the morning."

"Not unless I say so," Ithilden said.

"Enough," Thranduil said, softly but with a sharp edge in his voice.

Eilian swiveled to face their father, and Legolas cringed at the anger on his face. "You're the one keeping me here, which is why Gelmir's now missing, and that's what's enough."

Eilian was breathing so hard that his chest heaved.

"Get hold of yourself, Eilian." Thranduil bit off each word.

Legolas felt as if he were choking. He'd never heard Eilian rage at their father so defiantly, and Thranduil's eyes had gone hard and cold. Legolas clutched Eilian's arm. The tense muscles beneath his sleeve were hard as seasoned wood. "Eilian, please come away now." He looked pleadingly at their father. "It would be better to talk at home later, right?"

Thranduil gave him a look Legolas couldn't read, then nodded curtly.

Legolas tugged at Eilian's arm. "Please, Eilian." For a moment, he thought his brother would resist, but Eilian yanked his arm free and strode back toward their table with Legolas having to trot to keep up. Legolas caught sight of Gelmir's parents, but turned his head hastily away. He felt sick with fear for Gelmir and for Eilian.

Only Turgon and Annael remained at their table. Both were standing, looking around, brows knit in worry.

"Eilian!" Annael sounded relieved. "Hoth's gone."

Eilian stopped so suddenly that Legolas ran into him. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"He went to use the privy and didn't come back," Turgon said.

Eilian sank onto the bench and drained one of the mugs of wine. Legolas saw the liquid in the mug shimmer from the shaking of Eilian's hand. "Is that all? He probably got lost in the dark."

"He was talking about the fire jumping," Annael said.

Legolas thought of how Hoth had wanted to turn back but stopped when Legolas said there was no point in doing it if Eilian was there. "He wanted to try."

For a moment, Eilian stayed still. When he finally moved, it was to take a drink of wine. Legolas felt as if he'd been coming down stairs and missed a step. Thranduil and Ithilden might think of Eilian as unreliable, but Eilian had never failed Legolas when he needed him. Then Eilian's gaze met his, and he spoke so softly Legolas almost couldn't hear him. "Orc spit." He rose, making the earring Jardin had given him swing against his neck. He snatched it off irritably and stuck it in his pocket. "I'll look for him. You three stay here."

"I'm coming with you," Legolas said. When Eilian swung around to face him, he straightened his back and held his ground. "You're not yourself. Just--just let me keep an eye on you."

When Turgon laughed, Legolas felt his face redden, but Eilian's rigid stance loosened a little. "All right," he said with a grimace. "I guess I earned that." He pointed at Turgon and Annael. "If you two so much as twitch in the wrong direction, I'll tell your parents."

Legolas kept close to his brother's side as they retraced the path to the fire. They were nearly there when they heard someone coming toward them and, an instant later, Calólas appeared with Hoth's arm around his neck, leaning on him.

"What happened?" Legolas cried, rushing to Hoth's side.

Calólas lowered Hoth to sit on the path. "His back is burned."

"You are a fool." Eilian shoved him out of the way and bent beside Legolas to look at Hoth's back. Legolas winced. Hoth's shirt was scorched and burned away in places, and blisters were already forming. Calólas melted away among the trees.

"Please don't tell my father," Hoth said, his voice tight with pain.

"You need a healer," Eilian said.

"Can't you get one?" Hoth pleaded.

Over the top of Hoth's head, Eilian's gaze met Legolas's in a shared look of understanding. Thranduil would have to know about the injury to the merchant's son, but given the scene Eilian had just made on the Green, some other time would be better. Much better.

"Legolas," Eilian said, "go get Gwaleniel. I saw her at the feast."

Heart pounding, Legolas sprinted back toward the Green, where music had started again. He circled the tables before spotting the healer sitting with her husband, son, and daughter. He huffed up behind her. "Mistress Gwaleniel?" Erendrinn, Alfirin, and Tonduil turned to face him too, and Legolas groped for words that wouldn't say too much. "Can you come, please?"

She raised an eyebrow, but then rose. She was probably used to being summoned away from enjoying herself.

"You'll need your healer stuff," Legolas said.

"Go fetch my bag, Tonduil," she told her son. "Bring it to--?" She waited for Legolas.

"The path by the fire jumping."

Tonduil raced away without asking for more directions. He and Legolas were the same age. Legolas would bet Tonduil had never jumped that fire but, like all of them, he knew it was there.

As Legolas turned away, he spotted Ithilden watching them. Watching Alfirin really. Ithilden cocked his head but didn't rise to come their way. When Legolas thought of it, he realized he hadn't seen Ithilden dancing with Alfirin at all that night. Given how obviously soft-headed Ithilden was over her, that was surprising, but Legolas had no time to wonder about it because Gwaleniel walked briskly, saying nothing. She knew the way too, Legolas noted. She'd undoubtedly been called there before.

They found Eilian kneeling by Hoth's side. He'd sliced the back of Hoth's shirt in half and was picking bits of cloth away while Hoth clenched his teeth. As Gwaleniel knelt next to them, Eilian backed away. She inspected Hoth's back without touching it.

"It's not so bad," she told Hoth. "It will be a bit painful for a while."

Legolas wrinkled his nose. When healers admitted something would be a "bit painful," they meant it would hurt like a bear bite.

Gwaleniel shot Eilian a tight-lipped look. "You took him to fire jump? I thought you were feeling better."

"Eilian didn't take him. He made us leave, but then Hoth went back." Justice compelled Legolas to defend his brother, even though he knew that if the healer thought Eilian was "feeling better," she'd tell Ithilden that Eilian could go back to his patrol.

Gwaleniel shook her head. "Males."

Feet pounded on the path and Tonduil appeared, his round face flushed from his haste. He held out his mother's bag, looking curiously at Hoth. Gwaleniel didn't look up from Hoth's back. So Eilian took it, with what Legolas was happy to see was a steady hand.

"Find a jar of green paste," she told Eilian.

He undid the bag's tie as she slid Hoth's shirt all the way forward off his chest and arms. "Tonduil, go and get one of your father's old shirts," she said. He blew out his breath but ran off again.

"I need the charm." Hoth pointed to the collar of his shirt.

Legolas fumbled to unpin the charm, then gave it to Hoth.

Eilian handed the salve to Gwaleniel, who opened the jar, dipped her fingers in and spread paste along Hoth's back. He suppressed a small cry.

"Do you have to wear the charm all the time?" Legolas asked quickly. He always liked it if someone talked to him while he was in the hands of a healer. "I know you make money from them, but I thought that was only if you gave them away."

A hiss was the only answer Hoth could make.

Eilian raised his head and frowned at Legolas. "What are you talking about?"

"Camil is paid three coins if he gives a charm to an elf."

"By whom?" Eilian lifted a charm from his pocket and examined it. Legolas took out the charm Camil had given him.

"The easterling merchant, I guess," Legolas said tentatively.

Hoth nodded.

"Why?" Eilian asked.

"I don't know," Hoth managed.

"Leave him alone," Gwaleniel said, as Tonduil returned, holding a shirt. Gwaleniel draped it around Hoth's shoulders and helped him to his feet. "He's staying in the palace, I take it? Tonduil and I will get him to bed." She nodded toward her bag and Tonduil picked it up and went after her and Hoth.

Eilian squinted at the charm. "Is that a seashell?"

"I think it's a mouth," Legolas said. He held it up to his ear and jumped. Less in his ear than in his head, he heard a whisper. You're old enough to do what you think is best. He felt his eyes widen as he stared at Eilian, who was also lowering a charm from his ear.

"We have to talk to Adar," Eilian said.

AN: Set immediately after "My Brother's Keeper." Legolas is equivalent of 14 in human years. Written to celebrate the publication of my YA fantasy, Deep as a Tomb (Loose Leaves Press), now available in both paperback and e-book ($3.99 for e-book).  Read, review, fanfic it, whatever! Enjoy, I hope. -- daw

Chapter 6. The King Takes Action

"Your Majesty," Camil said, "in thanks for entertaining my children and me at this feast, allow me to make you a gift of this pretty little charm." He held out a piece of carved ivory on a silver chain, identical to the charm he had pinned to the ribbon tying back his hair.

Thranduil let his eyelids droop and looked down his nose at this pest of a merchant. "Among elves, it is not customary to sell goods at a feast, Master Merchant."

"I'm not selling. It's a gift." Camil lifted the charm as if hoping Thranduil would take a better look and be persuaded. When Thranduil failed to take the jewelry, his smile faltered, but he still set the charm on the table and gave it a pat. "It's a gift." He bowed and moved on.

Lifting his wine cup, Thranduil spoke quietly to Ithilden. "Trade is important, but perhaps we should deal with someone a little less driven."

"Given the goods he has stored in Arost's cottage, Camil would be very unhappy to hear that." Ithilden rubbed his hand over his tight braids, making the charm in one dance. "I thought Eilian was almost better."

"I thought so too, but that display was beyond even his normal lack of control."

"One more reason to mistrust my recent judgment," Ithilden said.

Thranduil frowned down into his wine. "You are blaming yourself far too much for Gelmir's disappearance. In battle, these things happen." Thranduil blotted out his own memory of Gelmir and Eilian as small children running through the snow, apple cheeked from the cold. "As for Eilian, if your judgment is flawed, so is mine."

A yell drew Thranduil's attention to a crowd of dancers in the center of the Green. Three elves had been leaping and whirling higher and higher, competing with one another, and having apparently spun himself dizzy, one of them had fallen against a dancing couple. The maiden from the couple was shouting at him, and her partner was shouldering in with his fists raised. What was wrong with his people tonight? Where were those with cooler heads who should be breaking up the argument? Perhaps the feast had reached a stage where he should send Legolas home.

He looked toward the table where his youngest son should be but saw only Turgon, Annael, and Jardin watching the developing fight with open mouths. He felt a flash of irritation. Legolas had already wandered out of sight once tonight. Keeping track of his third son at night was proving more difficult than it should be. "Where's Legolas?"

"He went off a few moments ago with Gwaleniel. Was he supposed to stay on the Green?"

"He was supposed to stay where I could see him. Why did he want the healer? Was he hurt?"

"Not that I saw," Ithilden said. "Frankly, I assumed he was fetching her for Eilian who had done something risky because he was angry with me."

Shouts of "Stop!" drew Thranduil's attention back to the dancers. More elves were shoving one another, and through the shifting crowd, Thranduil glimpsed someone drawing his boot dagger.

Ithilden had seen it too and bracing one hand on the table, he jumped over it and ran toward the fight, calling and beckoning to the table full of warriors next to the younglings. They sprinted into the fray, drawing their swords as they went, but holding them carefully so as not to hurt the onlookers.

Locked in one another's grip, a pair of wrestling elves staggered out of the crowd and crashed into the table where the younglings sat. Annael barely jumped out of their way. The table tipped over, flinging cups of wine left and right and dumping the wrestlers into the dirt. They rolled over once, and the one who landed on top began punching the other. Ithilden's warriors were too busy shouting for order and cracking heads in the middle of the Green to notice this side battle.

Enough! The children were right there! Thranduil sprang to his feet and rushed toward the mess. He had an instant to realize that every muscle in his body sang with relief at finding a target for the irritation he'd felt building all day. Then he had hold of both elves by the scruff of the neck and was lifting them to their feet. When the fools still lunged at one another, he bared his teeth and shook them until they turned on him. One of them landed a sharp elbow in Thranduil's ribs before both faces went pale as they saw who held them, and they went limp in his grip. He loosened but didn't release his hold and looked at the younglings. Turgon's eyes were wide with fascination, a look Thranduil had seen with alarm on his son's friend before, but Annael was swallowing convulsively and Jardin had grabbed his arm.

"Are you hurt?" Thranduil asked. They all shook their heads, and Annael's father chose that moment to arrive, bow hastily, and hustle both boys away. He extended a hand to Jardin, but she didn't take it.

"My father will come," she said breathlessly.

"He started it, my lord," one of the elves said. Thranduil shook him again and, for good measure, his opponent too, hard enough that both elves' earring bounced.

When Ithilden appeared at Thranduil elbow, holding the elf who'd drawn his dagger, Thranduil let go of the wrestlers. "Are you all possessed?" Thranduil snarled, raking his gaze over the wrestlers and the dagger wielder. "Has something taken over what passes for your minds?"

"It has." To Thranduil's surprise, Legolas and Eilian skidded to a halt at Ithilden's side, both panting. Eilian snatched off the ivory charm attached to Ithilden's braid, making his brother jerk away as a few strands of his hair came with it. "This." Eilian held the charm out for Thranduil's inspection. Ithilden touched his ear, blinking as if he'd just awakened.

"The charms talk inside your head," Legolas said excitedly. "They say things that sound good when they talk, but that you know aren't really true when you think about it."

To Thranduil's relief, Camil rushed into sight and embraced his daughter. Thranduil had been half afraid the man would fail his child. Still it would be better if she'd gone with the boys because he had questions for Camil.

"Are you hurt?" Camil asked, then glared at Thranduil. "What kind of gathering is this?"

Too fast for the man to react, Thranduil drew his own boot dagger and put the point to Camil's throat. Jardin screamed, but Thranduil gritted his teeth and ignored it. His people were at stake here. "A gathering that resembles the one in the alehouse where you met with my raft elf and doubtless distributed your wares. I knew there was something odd about you."

"What are you talking about?" Camil sounded as if he were struggling to breathe.

"These whisperers of evil," Thranduil snarled, pointing to the charms Eilian held. "Did you make them yourself?"

"I don't know what you mean." Camil nearly sobbed.

Jardin grabbed his arm and looked defiantly at Thranduil. "Leave him alone."

"Easterlings pay him to distribute the cursed things," Eilian said.

"Is that true?" Thranduil demanded. "Are you in league with the enemy?"

"No!" Camil frowned. "They press you to be quarrelsome? That can't even be true. I'm wearing one and I was never a man who enjoyed a fight. My children wear them, and you don't see them fighting."

"Wait, Adar." Eilian pulled off the ribbon tying Camil's hair back and added the charm on it to the one he'd taken from Ithilden's braid. "They don't always whisper about fighting."

Thranduil wondered what the charm had whispered to Eilian and felt a flash of pain that whatever it was had preyed on a weakness he knew his son was struggling against. What had it whispered to obsessively responsible Ithilden, who saw everyone as his to defend? What corruption had it aimed at the precious remnants of Legolas's childhood innocence? He turned back to Camil. "You may not enjoy fighting," he said slowly, "but you do enjoy making money."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Camil said with dignity. "My family has to eat."

"You have been--" Jardin hesitated. "You've pushed more lately. You have time for nothing else, not even us."

Emotions Thranduil couldn't read flickered across Camil's face, ending in him releasing a long breath "I swear I didn't know. Jardin, I didn't mean it. You can't believe that of me."

Thranduil pulled his dagger away from Camil's neck and looked at Ithilden. "Take your warriors and tell everyone to get rid of the charms. Let these three go on promise of good behavior." Ithilden snapped his fingers at his warriors and moved out on the Green to do Thranduil's bidding. The elves Thranduil had separated and the one held by Ithilden lost no time fleeing from Thranduil's sight.

"I am willing to believe you have been deceived, Master Merchant," Thranduil told Camil. "But I want you to take all your goods out of my forest at dawn."

"With pleasure." Camil put his arm around Jardin, although to Thranduil that looked more like a need for support than affection. Still it was possible he was being unjust. A short while ago, he'd seen his own sons go after one another with words as harsh as he'd ever heard them exchange. "Where's Hoth?" Camil asked.

"He went back to the palace to go to bed," Legolas said.

Something in his tone made Thranduil send him a sharp look. Legolas quickly turned to watch Ithilden collecting ivory charms on the Green, while Eilian gave Thranduil a bright smile. Thranduil decided to let it go. Hoth was Camil's responsibility, and everyone was happier if the young sometimes chose to keep their secrets. Only sometimes though.

"We will be gone before morning." Camil and Jardin moved off toward the palace, her arms around his waist, his hand on her thin shoulder.

"Eilian?" a voice said, and Thranduil saw that Gelmir's parents stood just behind Eilian. Eilian flinched, then smoothed his face and turned to greet them. Thranduil felt a moment of respect for his son's care toward his friend's father and mother.

"Mae govannen," Eilian said cheerily. "I'm afraid the excitement is all over. It was fun while it lasted though."

Gelmir's mother patted Eilian's arm. "You don't have to try to dissemble, Eilian. I've been able to see through that charming smile since you were tiny. We know you must be worried about Gelmir."

Eilian's back was to Thranduil, so he couldn't see his son's face, but he saw the slump in his shoulders.

"He's just missing, that's all. And they're looking for him as hard as they can," Eilian said. "You know Gelmir. He's tough. Otherwise he never would have survived being my friend all these years."

"He is tough," Gelmir's father said, "and we wanted to tell you that we're both sure he's alive. We feel it through our bonds with him. What's more, he feels hopeful."

"Really?" Eilian straightened. "Since when?"

"Since a few moments ago," Gelmir's father said. "Come home with us, Eilian. Spend a few hours sharing talk about our son."

Thranduil knew a few hours with Gelmir's staid parents would hardly be Eilian's idea of an entertaining evening and yet, Eilian said, "Gladly." He looked over his shoulder. "By your leave, Adar?" He waited for Thranduil's nod and then left. Thranduil watched the three of them go. For Eilian's sake, as well as Gelmir's, he hoped Gelmir's parents were right. It had been his experience that by the time his sons were Eilian and Gelmir's age, they could often hide their emotions from him if they thought those emotions would upset him.

Legolas watched them go, too, frowning slightly. "Adar, how much can you feel through our bond?"

Thranduil cocked his head. "More than you hope, but less than I'd like."

Legolas flicked a look at a group of maidens who were huddled together, engaging in happily horrified Wood-elf chatter about the fight on the Green. His frown deepened and spots of color appeared on his cheeks.

Thranduil suppressed a smile. Let Legolas wonder a little. Some extra caution wouldn't hurt when he eventually became old enough to venture into romance. Not yet, of course.

"Legolas?" A feminine voice startled Thranduil, but he saw that Alfirin had approached. "Legolas, do you know if my naneth is coming back? My adar wants to know if we should wait for her before we leave."

"I don't know," Legolas said.

Thranduil glimpsed Ithilden standing near one of his warriors but looking at him and Legolas. Or really, of course, at Alfirin. Enough silliness, he decided. Thranduil beckoned, and Ithilden promptly walked toward him.

"Ithilden will escort you home, Alfirin," Thranduil said briskly. "No reason for you to hang about while your adar waits for your naneth."

Both Alfirin and Ithilden blinked at him. Then Legolas suppressed a snort and Ithilden threw him a filthy look. He extended his arm and Alfirin slipped her hand through it. Heads high, the two of them walked away. On the other side of the Green, Thranduil saw Alfirin's father half rise and then sit again looking confused. Thranduil had no idea where the elf's wife was, though he suspected Legolas and Eilian both knew, but Thranduil hoped Erendrinn would wait a long time.

Thranduil found himself alone with his youngest son. He looked at Legolas thoughtfully. The boy was taller than Thranduil had noticed. "You and Eilian were clever to realize what was happening, Legolas. The two of you served your people well tonight. I may even ignore the fact that you were once again where you weren't supposed to be."

"Really, it was a good idea to let me out of my room," Legolas said hopefully.

Thranduil laughed. "If you behave for just one more week, you'll be out for good, I hope, depending on your future actions of course."

"Adar, you can't treat me like a child forever," Legolas said.

s

"Forever? No. But tonight? Yes, I can." Having to raise his arm higher than he remembered, he put a hand on Legolas's shoulder and turned him toward the palace. "Come. Let us go home."