1. Dodging Attacks

“Faster! Go! Go! Go!” shouted Lómilad, urging the Elves through the trees. Legolas twisted and turned, flinging himself through the branches and seeking the dense cover that would lessen his chances of being a target for the short Orc bows that twanged below them. Despite the extra conditioning that he had been doing daily for the last six months, his breath was starting to come in ragged gulps, for this chase had been going on for over an hour and this was not the first time today that they had been required to flee through the trees. Off to his left, he caught occasional glimpses of Annael, and he could tell that Annael too was tiring. The burning in his own lungs and arm muscles told him that he would not be able to keep going at this break neck speed for too much longer.

Fortunately, he did not have to, for just as this thought occurred to him, their goal came into sight. Through the trees, he could see the clearing where safety beckoned. He focused on it, trying to distract himself from his own exhaustion. Suddenly, something skimmed past his ear, entirely too close for comfort. Startled, he drew on the last reserve of his waning strength and leapt forward into the sunlit glade.

He landed on the grass with a roll that broke his fall and left him lying on his back, gasping for air. Isendir had reached the clearing a few seconds before Legolas had. Now Annael burst quickly into sight, and Galelas and Tonduil followed. The five novices lay panting on the ground as the three masters emerged from the trees, breathing heavily from their own run, although they had covered only the last half of the course, replacing two other masters who by now were home trading in the stubby Orc bows for the longer and far more elegant Elven ones. Penntalion, the archery master, grimaced at the bow he now held, which looked particularly awkward strung with the slingshot like device that had enabled him and Maldor, the unarmed combat master, to fire brittle, clay pellets at the novices as they scrambled through the trees.

“On your feet,” ordered Lómilad, the novice master, and the five young Elves struggled upright. They were beginning to recover although Legolas was certain that all five of them shared the unspoken hope that they were not going to be ordered to repeat the drill again today. “Who was hit?” Lómilad asked.

Reluctantly, Tonduil and Galelas stepped forward. They both had tell-tale streaks of crumbled clay on their clothes, and Tonduil was rubbing the spot on his arm where the pellet had struck. The pellets were unlikely to do much harm, but, as Legolas knew only too well, they stung sharply on impact.

“What happened?” Lómilad asked them.

They paused, glancing at one another to see who would speak first. Tonduil finally sighed and spoke. “I was too low in the branches,” he said, “so that the pellets had time to find me before I had time to move. I realized my mistake and started to climb, but it was too late.”

Lómilad nodded and turned his gaze inquiringly to Galelas. “I was in an area where the foliage was too sparse,” he said somewhat defensively.

“And what were you doing there?” Lómilad asked briskly. “Could you not see that such an area was ahead and adjust your course?”

Galelas grimaced. “Yes,” he said grudgingly.

“Then do so the next time,” responded Lómilad. He turned to Penntalion and Maldor. “Does either of you have anything to add?” he asked.

“Yes, I do,” said Maldor. To Legolas’s dismay, the unarmed combat master was now looked at him. “Legolas,” he asked, “what were you doing at the end? You were not hit, but it was a near thing.”

Legolas thought quickly. Of all the masters, Maldor was the most demanding and, to be perfectly truthful, Legolas found him a bit frightening. “I allowed my concentration to waver?” he suggested tentatively.

“You certainly must have,” Maldor agreed emphatically. “When safety appears near, that is a time when more care must be taken, not less, especially when you are tired.” He studied Legolas for a moment. “You cannot expect the enemy to cease attacking just because you are weary.”

“It will not happen again,” Legolas said, struggling to keep his tone free of resentment. He was usually good at learning from the corrections of the weapons masters, but Maldor’s criticism often had a sting in the tail that made it hard to take well. Maldor nodded, however, apparently satisfied by his response.

Lómilad, on the other hand, still had something to add. “You might think about imitating Ithilden, Legolas. I have never seen a warrior who can maintain his focus better than your brother can.”

Legolas gritted his teeth and struggled to avoid reacting to the novice master’s unwelcome comparison. He could feel Annael stir slightly by his side. “I will do that,” he said neutrally.

Lómilad now swept his glance over all five tired looking novices. He smiled slightly. These were the youngest of the twenty or so novices for whose warrior training he was responsible. None of them was forty-five yet and neither Legolas nor Annael would be forty-two for several weeks. They would spend the next ten years or so under his supervision until they came of age, when those who qualified would become fully-fledged, though still beginner, warriors. His task was to make sure that when that happened, they would have the skills and, just as important, the attitudes that would allow them to survive and serve Mirkwood competently. Today they had done well.

“I must say that you are all getting faster,” he said encouragingly. Five relieved young faces responded to his praise. “That will be all for today,” he went on. “Tomorrow is a holiday, of course, because of the king’s begetting day, but I expect to see you all ready to work hard the next morning, so do not celebrate too hard.” They were grinning happily at him now. “On your way,” he said, waving them off and turning to Penntalion and Maldor, who waited to hear any last minute requests he might have for them.

The five novices started back through the woods towards their homes, fatigue forgotten in the prospect of a holiday. “You were lucky not to get hit, Legolas,” said Galelas, still smarting from Lómilad’s mild criticism. He and Isendir were friends and were the oldest of the five, and he often tried to make sure that the younger three recognized their greater experience.

“Nonsense. It was pure skill,” Legolas said in a self-mocking tone, making Annael and Tonduil snort. For some reason, Galelas had apparently taken an instant dislike to Legolas when he had become a novice six months ago. Legolas was at a loss to explain it, because they had had very little contact until now. He had occasionally seen Galelas on the weapons training field, but they had never spent time together off it. He usually tried to take whatever Galelas said lightly, but the older novice often managed to get under his skin.

“You really do need to learn to concentrate,” Galelas went on.

“As you were concentrating when you wandered into an area with little shelter?” Legolas asked sarcastically.

Galelas stopped and whirled to face him. “Has it occurred to you that the masters might hesitate to shoot at you?” he asked hotly. Legolas blinked. He had no idea what Galelas was talking about.

Tonduil stepped hastily between them. He was a year older than Annael and Legolas and was actually part of Legolas’s extended family, for his sister, Alfirin, had married Ithilden, Legolas’s oldest brother, the previous summer. “Stop it before one of the masters hears you,” he said urgently. “That is unless you want us all to have some sort of duty tomorrow.”

Legolas clenched his teeth. Tonduil was right, of course. They had been told often enough that an individual warrior’s skill with weapons was not enough to win a battle. Warriors needed to work together as a unit. Lómilad would not be forgiving if he found them quarreling.

Galelas glared at Legolas for a moment and then, responding to Isendir’s tug on his sleeve, he turned and walked quickly away.

Legolas slowed his step so that Galelas and Isendir could draw ahead, while he, Annael, and Tonduil fell behind. “What was Galelas talking about?” he asked irritably. “Obviously the masters were shooting at me. One of them nearly hit me!”

Annael laughed softly. “I would not pay too much attention to anything Galelas said,” he answered lightly. “He has always let his mouth run far ahead of his brain.” Annael knew the other novices better than Legolas did, for he had never been set apart from them in the way that a king’s son inevitably was. As elflings, they had all roamed in and out of one another’s cottages far more easily than any of them had entered the palace, although Annael and Legolas had always been friends.

Tonduil had already dismissed the two older novices from his mind. “Did Lómilad really train Ithilden, Legolas?” he asked.

Legolas grimaced. “Evidently,” he said dryly, “and Eilian too.” Today was not the first time that one of the masters had compared Legolas unfavorably to his two older brothers, who were both accomplished warriors. Moreover, as Thranduil’s sons, Eilian captained the Mirkwood patrol that hunted in the dangerous southern part of the realm, and Ithilden commanded the entire Mirkwood force. The small size of Elven families meant that the novice masters did not often train brothers, and it did not seem to occur to them that Legolas might find the comparisons a little overwhelming rather than inspiring.

Tonduil, too, seemed oblivious to Legolas’s reaction to the mention of his brothers. “Did you see Ithilden defeat Thelion with swords yesterday?” he asked. Legolas and Annael both nodded. Thelion, the blade master, was popular with the novices, and they had all cheered for him in the bout, although Legolas had felt a little guilty doing so. The match had been even but Ithilden had eventually prevailed, thus impressing Tonduil, who was inclined to hero worship his new brother-in-law.

The three were now drawing near Thranduil’s fortress, and cottages and flets were beginning to appear interspersed throughout the trees. Tonduil bid the other two farewell and trotted off home. They watched him go, and then Annael turned to Legolas with a grin. “One thing I have to be grateful to you for, Legolas," he said, "and that is helping to reconcile me to my status as an only child."

Legolas laughed. “You know that I love my family, but sometimes I cannot help but wish that I were just Legolas, not Ithilden’s and Eilian’s brother and not Thranduil’s son,” he said ruefully. Annael slapped him on the shoulder and the two of them walked on down the path.

Rather than heading straight back to the palace, however, Legolas indicated that he intended to take a path that veered off to the right. “I have to pick up my adar’s present,” he told Annael, who left him with promises to meet again the next day, intending to spend some time in the woods doing whatever they pleased with absolutely no one around to issue any orders.

Legolas made his way through the chill of the fading spring afternoon toward the cottage of Furion, the silversmith. The smith was waiting for him, having promised Legolas that he would have his gifts ready this afternoon. “Here is the brooch,” he said, holding it up for Legolas to admire. And admire it, Legolas did, for Furion had created a graceful, lightweight, silver oak leaf with a line of small pearls swirling down its center.

“It is beautiful,” he said honestly, thinking of how handsome the brooch would look when Thranduil used it to fasten one of the light silk cloaks he wore in the warm weather.

“And here is the other thing,” Furion went on. “It came out nicely too, if I do say so myself.” He held up a thin silver chain, with the same leaf shape in miniature suspended from it. No pearls decorated this piece, for Legolas had not been able to afford them, but the necklace was delicately lovely nonetheless.

It would look beautiful around Miriwen’s long, slender neck, Legolas thought. The leaf would nestle in the little hollow spot at the base of her throat. He smiled slightly, warmed by the thought.

Legolas thanked Furion, paid him, and slipped the jewelry into his pocket. Then he hurried toward home, for it was growing late, and they had guests who had come for the next day’s celebration. He needed to bathe before evening meal, which, with all the company, would be in the Great Hall rather than the family’s smaller private dining room, and Thranduil would reprimand him for rudeness if he were late for the meal for any reason other than an order from one of the masters.

As he reached the green in front of the palace, however, he found three horses being led away toward the stables, and his mother’s aunt Glilan just crossing the bridge to the palace where his father waited to greet her. “Legolas,” she cried fondly, as he approached. “You have grown so since I was here for Ithilden’s wedding.” He smiled weakly, never having been able to think of an appropriate answer for this particular observation which his relatives all seemed to make.

Thranduil frowned at him. “Should you not be wearing a cloak? It has become quite cool,” he observed.

Legolas bit back a retort that would certainly have led to trouble and managed to substitute a milder one. “I have just come from training, Adar. The exercise has kept me warm enough.” He occasionally wondered if he somehow reverted to being an elfling when he crossed the bridge to the palace.

“Evening meal has been put back an hour,” Thranduil went on, “so you have time to dress appropriately. You will need formal robes.” He turned to lead Glilan into the palace, and thus fortunately did not see his youngest son rolling his eyes. In the last year, Thranduil had begun requiring Legolas to appear in formal dress as part of the royal family on more and more occasions. Dressing for dinner was sometimes like dressing for inspection from the novice masters, he thought. This was going to be a long evening.

2. A Warrior’s Homecoming

Miriwen was smiling at him and stretching up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. His heart sped up and his breath caught at the touch of her soft breasts against his chest. “My, how you have grown,” she said, which was embarrassing because it was true in more ways than she probably realized. But then, confusingly, he was in the banquet hall. Although it was dimly lit, Galelas was firing clay pellets at him. “You need to improve your concentration,” he sneered. Aunt Glilan was there now and she was frowning. “That is not what I meant,” she said. Someone was running and shouting, but Legolas was not sure who. Something was wrong.

He awoke with a start, his heart pounding. Some sort of commotion was underway in the hall. Footsteps and the sound of something heavy brushing against his door, and then his father’s voice: “His chamber is the next on the right. Get that healer here now!” Running footsteps sounded and a door slammed.

He leapt out of bed and jerked his door open. A small group was making its way down the hall of the family’s living quarters. Two Elven warriors clad in travel-worn brown cloaks were carrying a litter, while Thranduil, wearing a night robe, walked to one side. A guard had run ahead to fling open the door to his brother Eilian’s chamber. The pale figure on the litter lay still, covered to the chin with a rough blanket.

It took Legolas a moment to realize that the unconscious Elf on the litter was indeed Eilian. With a cry, he ran after the little group, entering the chamber as Thranduil flung back the covers on the bed. The guard was kindling a fire in the fireplace and then lighting the lanterns around the room. The warriors carefully unwrapped the blanket from Eilian’s inert form. He was naked except for a large bloodstained cloth bound over his side and another binding that held his left arm immobilized against his chest. The forearm had also been braced between two flat pieces of wood. The warriors lifted him from the litter to the bed, drawing a groan that was the first sign of life Eilian had shown.

Legolas found that his chest was so tight that he was struggling to breathe. Ithilden pounded through the door, dressed only in a loose pair of trousers. He was followed closely by Alfirin, who was drawing a night robe around her and tying its sash. “What happened?” Ithilden demanded.

“I do not know yet,” said Thranduil grimly. At that moment, Belówen, one of the palace healers, came hastily through the door, carrying a satchel. He was fully dressed and had probably been in the palace’s infirmary when the guard found him. He approached the bed calmly, put the satchel on the table, and bent to examine the injured Elf.

As they watched, Belówen began to unwind the various bindings and probe first at the arm. After a cursory examination, he laid it gently on the bed, still braced between the pieces of wood. He lifted the cloth from Eilian’s side, revealing a gash from the edges of which an ugly and ominous purple was spreading.

“What is the source of this wound?” he asked one of the warriors, whom Legolas recognized now as a member of the southern patrol, which Eilian captained.

“An Orc arrow,” the warrior replied. Legolas drew in his breath sharply, and he could see Thranduil stiffen. “I do not think it was poisoned, my lord,” the warrior told Thranduil. “If it were, he would. . .” he hesitated.

“Yes,” Thranduil said, “quite.” If the arrow had been poisoned, Eilian would be dead by now. “Then there is that to be thankful for,” Thranduil said steadily.

“How old is the wound?” asked Belówen.

“Four days,” answered the warrior. “We cleaned it, but it is deep. The infection became worse during the trip here. It is his arm that we were worried about,” he added. “We could not treat him adequately in our camp.”

A second healer arrived. The warriors moved away from the bed to make room for him. Belówen motioned him to the other side of the bed, but he had to maneuver around Ithilden to get there. Legolas squeezed back into the corner, trying to see what was happening but not wanting to be in the way. The room was crowded. Belówen glanced up at Thranduil. “My lord,” he said, “if you and the others would wait elsewhere, I will come and tell you how he is when we have finished.”

Thranduil hesitated, but Alfirin drew gently on his arm. “Come, Adar,” she said. “There are too many of us here, and it is distracting for the healers.” Alfirin’s mother was a healer, and she had no doubt heard stories enough about anxious families.

Thranduil sent the warriors off for food and rest, promising to send word to them as soon as he could. He sent the guard to make sure that none of their numerous guests had been disturbed and to reassure any who had been. Then he, Legolas, Alfirin, and Ithilden withdrew to the family’s private sitting room. Ithilden crouched to build up the fire, which had been allowed to burn low for the night.

Thranduil glanced around. “Legolas,” he said, “go and get a night robe. You will freeze in just that sleep tunic.”

Legolas’s anxiety for Eilian had left his nerves raw, and he spoke without thinking. “I can tell for myself when I am cold, Adar,” he cried in exasperation. Thranduil turned toward him swiftly with narrowed eyes.

“Not now, Legolas,” Ithilden admonished sharply before Thranduil could speak. He rose and steered his younger brother toward the door. “Come,” he said. “I need to get a tunic too.” In the hallway, Ithilden turned to him. “You can talk to Adar about the way he treats you, but do not do it now while you are both on edge.” He caught at Legolas’s arm, “And if you want to make any headway, do not do it in that tone of voice.” He released Legolas and strode off to the corridor where he and Alfirin had their suite of chambers. Legolas stared after him. Then he hastily fetched the night robe and returned to the sitting room.

In their absence, Thranduil had sunk into a chair and allowed his head to fall into his hands, a sight that frightened Legolas almost more than had the still figure of Eilian on the litter. Legolas touched his arm. “I am sorry if I was rude, Adar,” he said and then sat down on the floor and leaned against his father’s knees.

Thranduil smiled wryly to himself but said nothing. “If” indeed! He stroked the blond head gently and dropped his own head back against the chair. He was tired of his sons being brought home injured, he though wearily. He was tired of any of Mirkwood’s sons being brought home that way. For how long would he have to send warriors to face the enemy and come to harm? His hand steadily continued to caress the young head leaning against his knee.

They waited for what seemed an eternity. Legolas tried to be patient, but it was difficult. Both of his brothers had been wounded before, he knew, but this was the first serious wound that he had seen. After a while, an anxious looking servant brought wine and a tray of bread and cheese. News of Eilian’s return was evidently spreading through the household. Ithilden warmed the wine near the fire and then offered it around. Alfirin shook her head, but the rest drank, grateful for the warmth. No one touched the food. Ithilden sank into the chair opposite Thranduil and drew his wife into his lap, with his arms wrapped around her. She rested her head on his shoulder. They both looked tired, Legolas thought.

Finally, Belówen appeared. “The news is encouraging, my lord,” he said immediately, and the tension in the room lessened palpably. “The wound in his gut was deep but the arrow missed anything vital, and it is starting to heal. There is some infection, but we have spread a healing paste over the area. We will have to watch to make sure, but it should draw out the infection.”

Thranduil blew out a long breath. “That is excellent,” he said. “What about his arm?”

Belówen grimaced. “That is a little more uncertain. It was badly broken in two places. It had been set in the field, but one of the breaks was not healing cleanly, and we had to reset it.” Legolas winced. “The muscles were torn when the bone twisted,” Belówen went on, “but they should begin to knit now that the break has been reset.” There was silence for a moment. The strength in an Elven archer’s left arm was vital, even if, like Eilian, the warrior was right-handed. The bow was a demanding weapon.

“Will it heal?” Thranduil asked.

“I have every reason to think so,” Belówen said carefully, “but we will have to wait and see.”

Thranduil nodded. There was no point in pressing the healer for a certainty that he did not have. He stepped to the door, summoned a guard, and sent a message to Eilian’s warriors, who no doubt were as wakeful as his family. Then he turned to the healer. “May we see him now?”

“Yes, but I have given him herbs for the pain and to help him sleep, so he will not be conscious,” the healer answered. “Come. I will stay with him for the rest of the night also.”

They entered the room quietly. One of Belówen’s assistant’s was also there now, tidying away some ugly instruments and blood stained cloths. Legolas hastily averted his gaze.

Eilian lay with the blanket drawn up tightly to his chin. His face was pale against his dark hair, and purple circles spread under his eyes like bruises. He breathed shallowly but evenly. Thranduil rested his hand on his son’s forehead for a moment and then turned to the other three.

“Assure yourselves that he is resting quietly, and then go and get some sleep. We will have guests and ceremonies to deal with tomorrow,” he said.

“Adar,” Legolas began in protest, but Thranduil held up a hand.

“The guests will not disappear because we wish them to,” he said, “and the celebration will have to go on in some form, although we can probably shorten it. People will want to hear how Eilian is, if nothing else.” He looked at Legolas. “You cannot help him by staying awake all night,” he said, not unkindly, “and you will have duties tomorrow.”

Legolas remembered how he had told Annael that he sometimes wished he were just Legolas, not the son of the king. He wished it intently now, but his wishes had never changed anything before and he did not expect them to start now. He kissed Eilian lightly on the forehead and then glanced over at Ithilden. His oldest brother stood staring silently at Eilian with an exceedingly sober expression on his face. Then he sighed and seemed to shake himself into motion. “Adar is right,” he said, and taking Alfirin’s arm, he left the room. Following their example, Legolas too withdrew to try to sleep for what remained of the night.

He was up early the next morning, for his worry had kept him awake. He went first to his brother’s room. The door was ajar, and he entered quietly. Thranduil and Belówen were conferring by the bedside. They turned to look at him, and Legolas was relieved when they both smiled, although his father still looked somewhat strained.

“The infection is lessening,” said Thranduil. “And Belówen tells me that he is in no danger.” Legolas closed his eyes briefly and then opened them with a great sigh of relief.

“If you come back after morning meal, I would not be surprised if he were awake for a bit,” added the healer.

“Come,” said Thranduil and led his youngest son away.

“I will be there in moment, Adar,” said Legolas and ducked quickly into his room to retrieve his gift for his father. It was the custom in Thranduil’s family to give begetting day gifts at morning meal in the family’s small dining room. Guests were brought trays in their rooms for this meal, but later in the day there would be far too many Elves around for the royal family to have any chance of privacy. Legolas was not certain that gift-giving was still in order, given the somber mood that Eilian’s injuries had caused, but his brother was better so perhaps a celebration was in order after all.

When Legolas reached the dining room, he found bread and fruit and porridge on the table. His father, Ithilden, and Alfirin were already there. Ithilden was speaking. “But his arm was always the more worrisome injury,” he was saying. He stopped when Legolas entered the room.

Legolas glanced at Ithilden with an anxious frown. “But Eilian’s arm will heal now, will it not?” he asked.

Ithilden sighed. “I am probably worrying over nothing,” he said comfortingly. He looked at the package in Legolas’s hand and took advantage of the opportunity to change the subject. “A begetting day gift, Adar. You probably thought that we had all forgotten.”

Legolas handed his father the gift he had wrapped the previous evening. “May the stars always shine upon you, Adar,” he said and took his accustomed place at the table. Thranduil probed at the cleverly folded, stiff green paper until it sprang apart, revealing the brooch nestled within it. Thranduil picked it up and admired it.

“Thank you, Legolas. It is beautiful,” he said and smiled reassuringly at his youngest. Legolas was relieved. Surely his father would not be so relaxed if Eilian’s injury were as serious as Ithilden had seemed to be saying.

Ithilden cleared his throat. “Alfirin and I have a gift for you too, Adar,” he said, “but it is not wrapped. Or, I suppose that it is wrapped, but it will not be unwrapped for nearly a year yet.”

Thranduil and Legolas both looked at him inquiringly. Alfirin blushed a little. “I am with child,” she said shyly and then added, “May the stars always shine upon you.”

Thranduil looked thunderstruck and then more pleased that Legolas would have thought possible just a few hours before. “On the contrary,” he said, “May the stars always shine upon both, no, all three of you.” And he rose and came around the table to kiss Alfirin and put his arm around Ithilden.

Legolas blinked. A baby. Ithilden was going to be a father. He was suddenly struck by a thought that was so intensely satisfying that it almost took his breath away. “Your child will be the youngest in the family,” he blurted out. “It will be the family baby.”

The other three looked at him, startled. Then Ithilden started to laugh. “Yes, but not until next spring,” he said. “Until then, I am afraid that the honor still falls to you, little brother.” Legolas grinned. He did not care. He knew his father, and he was certain that Thranduil would be fussing over the baby long before next spring.

There was a tap at the door and Belówen entered. “My lord,” he said, “Eilian is awake if you would like to speak to him. I have given him more of the pain drug, though, so he will not be alert for very long.”

The four of them rose immediately. “For a few moments only,” Belówen admonished as they made their way to Eilian’s room. The healer’s assistant sat by the bedside but rose and moved out of the way when they entered.

Legolas was overjoyed. Eilian was indeed awake and now turned his head toward them. Thranduil seated Alfirin in the chair that the healer’s assistant had just left and then turned to Eilian. “How do you feel?” he asked gently.

Eilian managed a ghost of his usual infectious grin. “I have felt better,” he admitted. “But then, I have felt worse too.” His family smiled in relief to hear him joking.

“You have missed the news,” Thranduil said. “Ithilden and Alfirin are going to have a baby.” Legolas could not help but be amused. Thranduil’s excitement over the baby seemed almost greater than that of his brother and sister-in-law.

Eilian looked at Alfirin. “That is good news,” he said. “The baby will be lucky to have you for its naneth.” He looked at Ithilden. “Congratulations,” he said rather muzzily. “We will have to call you Ada.” The drug was starting to take effect. His gaze traveled haphazardly around the room and settled on Legolas. “Do not worry, brat,” he said. “You will always be my baby brother.” His eyes slid out of focus, and he was asleep again. Belówen shooed them all out of the room, even Thranduil who showed signs of wanting to stay.

“It is just as well,” said Thranduil with dignity in the hall. “We need to see to our guests.” And he sent them off to various tasks, none of which seemed as important as the figure sleeping in the bed in the room they had just left.

The day passed quickly. The celebration for Thranduil’s begetting day went on as planned, although it was rather more subdued than usual. Legolas was set to escorting several of his mother’s cousins on a tour of the garden in the morning. He found it hard to pay attention to their conversation because his thoughts kept flying back to Eilian. They were not unsympathetic and one of them finally suggested that they could do very well on their own if he wanted to check on his brother. Gratefully, he hurried back to Eilian’s room, where he found Thranduil standing near the bed.

His father glanced around. “You did not abandon our guests, did you?” he asked with a frown.

“No, Adar,” Legolas responded patiently. “They said that they were familiar with the gardens and could be left on their own if I wanted to see how Eilian was.”

“He is doing well, according to Belówen,” Thranduil said. “But he wakes only occasionally. You can go and play with Annael if you like.” His attention was so focused on Eilian that he did not see Legolas’s pained look at the word “play.” Legolas wisely held his tongue and slipped away.

Thranduil realized that Eilian was awake and had turned his head to look at his father.

“Play?” Eilian asked in a slurred voice. “So how old is Legolas now? Twenty perhaps?”

“Do not be impertinent,” Thranduil snapped. “It was a slip of the tongue. I am fully aware that he is no longer an elfling.”

As his father spoke, Eilian turned his head and looked at the ceiling. He waited a moment and then deliberately let his eyes slip out of focus. After a moment or two, Thranduil sat down in the chair near the bed and picked up a book to read. Eilian smiled slightly. After all, there had to be some advantages to being ill.

Thranduil glanced up. Good, he thought. He is smiling in his sleep. He must be feeling better or at least he is having pleasant dreams.

In the evening, there was feasting on the green and Thranduil and his family would ordinarily have been expected to be present for the whole time. But under the circumstances, no one was surprised when the royal family made only a brief appearance. Thranduil stayed long enough to greet all of the guests personally and then started back to the palace. He paused, however, when he saw Legolas sitting off to one side with Miriwen. The younglings’ heads were together as they whispered of something and laughed. He gazed at them thoughtfully for a moment and then went on, eager to see how Eilian was faring.

Legolas was later than he had intended to be returning to the palace and the hallway of the family quarters was only dimly lit. Down the hall, he could see that Eilian’s door was ajar and there was a light in the room. He moved toward it and looked quietly in, meaning not to create a disturbance if one of the healers was there. But instead, Thranduil sat by the head of the bed, reading. He looked up. “Ah, Legolas,” he said. “Come in.”

“How is he?”

“Better, I think. The wound is healing quickly now that the infection is being treated.” Thranduil did not mention the broken arm. “Sit with me for a while. I have been meaning to speak to you anyway.”

Legolas looked at his father sidelong. It was seldom a good thing when Thranduil had been “meaning to speak” to him. But he drew up another chair and sat near his father, his eyes on the sleeping Eilian’s face.

“Legolas,” Thranduil began abruptly, “what is between you and Miriwen?”

Legolas felt himself blushing but also experiencing a flash of annoyance. Surely his friendship with Miriwen was none of his father’s business. “We are friends,” he said, rather sulkily.

“And is there nothing more than that?” his father asked.

Legolas hesitated, mostly because he did not know what a truthful answer to that question would be. “No,” he finally said firmly, keeping his eyes on Eilian.

Thranduil studied him and then asked gently, “Does she know that?” Legolas looked at him, surprised, for this was not the question he had expected. Thranduil sighed. “Legolas, you know that as a warrior you will be away for long periods of time. You will not be in a position to ask a maiden to bind herself to you for a good many years yet. You do not want to create false expectations in Miriwen or her parents.”

Legolas looked away again, troubled by what his father was saying. “We are just friends,” he finally said.

Thranduil sighed again and then nodded. “Good. I hope so.” He reached out and patted Legolas’s knee. “At least you see her only on the green in the company of others,” he said. “That is wise of you.” He looked at Legolas who still was not meeting his eyes. “You should get some sleep. You will have to be up early with the other novices tomorrow.”

Legolas nodded, rose, and kissed his father lightly on the cheek. “Good night, Adar,” he said and left the room.

3. A Novice’s Day

Legolas looked cautiously around the half-open door of Eilian’s room. His ears had told him that someone was in the room, probably one of the healers, and he did not want to interrupt anything. Eilian had been home a week now, and his wound was healing rapidly, but the healers were still worried about his arm.

Belówen stood next to the bed. He was in the process of removing the splints from Eilian’s arm. Eilian glanced over at the door and saw Legolas. “I can go away and come back later,” Legolas offered.

“No, come in and talk to me,” Eilian ordered. “I need someone to distract me while Belówen does vile things to my arm.” Legolas approached the bed.

Belówen looked up at him and smiled. “If your brother is very good, I may allow him out of bed today, so see if you can help him behave.” He held Eilian’s wrist in his left hand and began running his right hand up Eilian’s forearm, his fingers probing delicately.

“Why are you still home?” Eilian asked. “Are you not late for training?” He carefully did not look at what the healer was doing.

“We have had night archery drills for the last three nights, so we are starting late today,” Legolas answered.

Belówen now picked up Eilian’s arm and stretched it out straight, watching his patient as he did so. Eilian’s face paled somewhat, but he made no other response. “How did the night archery go?” he asked.

Legolas smiled slowly. “It went very well,” he said happily.

Eilian smiled too. He had been startled two years ago when he realized that his little brother could outshoot him with a bow, at least on the training field. And that undoubtedly meant that he could outshoot the other novices too, even those who were older. Eilian was sure that any archery training was going very well indeed.

Eilian suddenly gasped as Belówen held onto his wrist and twisted the forearm slightly. Legolas looked at Belówen, alarmed. The healer immediately stopped what he was doing and laid Eilian’s arm gently back on the bed. He slid the splints back into place and began to tie them around the forearm.

“You are doing well,” he said soothingly. “You may get up and begin moving around today. We will rig a sling for your arm so that it will be protected.” Eilian briefly looked as if he meant to ask questions, but his delight at being allowed out of bed immediately outweighed any worry he might feel.

“Excellent!” he cried.

Legolas laughed at his enthusiasm. “I must go now,” he said. “Wait until I come back to help you if you decide to move any furniture or clear stones out of the river.”

Belówen raised an eyebrow wryly. “Sound advice,” he said, fearing that his patient might indeed be inclined to do something intemperate.

“Go away, brat,” said Eilian happily. “Perhaps I will come and show all you novices how to swing a two-handed axe.”

Legolas departed for the training fields, feeling decidedly light-hearted. He trotted up to the spot where the novices assembled and slid into line between Annael and Tonduil. “How is Eilian?” asked Tonduil. He had seen Eilian when he and his parents had come to visit his sister, Alfirin, and he knew how worried the royal family was.

“He is better,” Legolas had time to answer before the novice masters emerged from the hut next to the training field and began sorting the young warriors-in-training into various groups for their assigned daily tasks. The five youngest novices were sent off on a two-league run through the trees and over a series of hills. Legolas attacked the exercise with pleasure. He liked running. He liked the feeling of his muscles working and the warmth that spread through them as he settled into the training regime. Annael ran beside him, his long legs moving seemingly effortlessly. Tonduil’s movements were more dogged, as he followed a few paces behind.

Ahead of them ran Galelas and Isendir. Galelas was big for an Elf and did not particularly like running, but he was also competitive enough that he consistently ran at the head of the pack. Isendir, on the other hand, was small and quick. He probably could have outrun them all, at least in the short term, but his desire for Galelas’s approval kept him by the larger novice’s side. He knew better than to outdistance Galelas if he wanted to stay friends.

The five of them ran at the pace they knew was expected – fast enough to make them breathe hard but not so fast that they would be wrung out at the end. The run was both conditioning and warm-up. But the real work would come after they had returned to the training fields. Today they were to work with archers’ short swords.

Thelion, the blade master, was waiting for them as they completed the course. “We will spar today,” he said, “pair by pair, with the winner of the first bout fighting the odd one out and then the winner of that bout fighting the winner of the second one.” He held out a pouch and they all drew colored tiles out of it. Isendir and Tonduil drew red tiles; Galelas and Annael drew black ones; Legolas drew the single white tile. Galelas, Annael, and Legolas dropped to the ground by the side of the roped off practice field, while Isendir and Tonduil chose blunted practice swords from the rack. They took up stances in the middle of the field and, when Thelion gave the signal, they began to spar.

Their styles were really quite different, Legolas thought, as he watched critically from the sidelines, knowing that he would have to spar with the winner. Tonduil tended to wait for attacks and then defend against them, using each of his parries to start an attacking stroke of his own when he could. But the smaller, quicker Isendir was very difficult to reach. His primary defense against any attack was simply to move out of its way. He seldom needed to block any of Tonduil’s moves, having moved to attack from a new direction before they had struck home. The bout was over quickly. When Isendir touched the tip of his blade to Tonduil’s ribs, the loser of the match looked surprised and then dismayed.

Thelion was an exceedingly patient teacher, however. “Good use of your agility, Isendir,” he said. “Tonduil, you have good control of all the attacking moves, but you need to use them more aggressively. You cannot let your opponent control the match like that.” He worked with Tonduil for a few minutes, serving as the target for series of moves that he encouraged the novice to make. Then, seemingly satisfied, he signaled to Galelas and Annael, and they took their place in the training area, as Isendir and Tonduil came to sit next to Legolas. This match promised to be more interesting because both combatants had strengths, and it was not easy to predict which was likely to do better.

Annael’s sword work was a joy to watch because his moves were very graceful and controlled. Galelas, on the other hand, tended to use brute strength to push aside an opponent’s weapon and come in close for a kill. This match lasted longer than the previous one, but Galelas managed to back Annael against the rope at the edge of the field. Then he came in with a wicked-looking horizontal swing. Annael turned into it and blocked with the base of his sword, using his left hand to support his right wrist in the struggle with Galelas’s greater strength. However, the force of Galelas’s blow drove Annael’s sword back into his own body. “That is a kill,” called Thelion.

The two of them walked back to where the others were gathered. They were both obviously winded. “What did you do wrong when you parried that horizontal attack, Annael?” the blade master asked.

“My arm was too close to my body,” Annael said promptly.

“Good,” said Thelion. “You will not let that happen so easily again.” He signaled to Legolas, who now rose to face Isendir, the winner of the first bout. He eyed the smaller novice, knowing full well that it would be dangerous to underestimate him. He set his feet, bent his knees slightly, and shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. “Go!” called Thelion.

The two of them were in instant motion. Legolas moved in as quickly as he could, having already decided that quick stabbing attacks were his best course of action with this agile opponent. He tried a straight thrust, turning his wrist and extending his arm, but Isendir had moved to his right, and Legolas had to parry quickly. The two of them danced around one another, with Legolas trying to read Isendir’s body to see where he would be next. Finally, he feinted, and then quickly drove a blow to catch Isendir who was dodging the false move.

“Good!” called Thelion. “That is a kill.”

“Good move,” said Isendir grudgingly under his breath.

“Thank you,” said Legolas in surprise. Because Galelas and Isendir were friends, Galelas’s hostility to Legolas usually meant that Isendir was barely civil to him. The two of them walked back to where Thelion stood.

“Now Galelas and Legolas,” said Thelion.

The two of them moved to the center of the training field. Galelas’s back was toward Thelion, and he now smiled spitefully at Legolas. “Get ready to land on your backside,” he said in a low voice.

Legolas clenched his teeth. He had no intention of letting Galelas’s remarks distract him from what he was doing. They took up their stances and, when Thelion had given the signal, they began to circle warily around one another. But it was not in Galelas’s nature to wait for long. He thrust quickly and Legolas parried, snapping his sword up against Galelas’s blade and then trying to step in close under the other’s weapon. Galelas was having none of that, however, and although he was forced back, he kept his sword pommel down so that his weapon stayed between them. He side stepped and swung again, a move that Legolas parried easily.

The two of them now sparred, with neither seeming to gain much advantage. Finally, Legolas thrust toward Galelas’s chest and Galelas blocked the move, pushing Legolas’s blade to the side. Seeing the opening, Legolas moved quickly in under Galelas’s blade, allowed his own sword to circle around, and thrust in again at an angle. The tip of his sword touched Galelas’s ribs. “A kill!” called Thelion.

Galelas was glaring at him so fiercely that Legolas stepped back in surprise. This was weapons training! Surely Galelas knew better than to let personal animosity interfere on the training field. They stared at one another for a moment, and then Galelas turned and walked back toward the blade master. After a moment, Legolas followed. Annael and Tonduil were both grinning at him, although they tried to hide it. They were not supposed to favor one combatant over another in these training bouts. Isendir’s face was a correct blank.

“Good job, Legolas,” said Thelion approvingly. “You did the right thing not to try to push past his guard. Good fight from you too, Galelas.” He swept his glance over all of them. “We are through here,” he said. “I think that you have some free time this afternoon. You would do well to use it to practice with one another. In the meantime,” he grinned, “I believe that you are supposed to be mucking out the stables.”

Cleaning the stables where the warriors’ horses were kept was a traditional daily chore for the youngest novices, so they were not surprised by his news. But they groaned good-naturedly anyway, mostly because Thelion seemed to expect it. He laughed. “Go,” he said. And the five of them headed off for the stables.

Galelas charged on ahead and walked down to the far end of the stables to begin work. After a moment’s hesitation, Isendir joined him. Annael, Tonduil, and Legolas started work from the near end. “What was Galelas saying to you out there?” Annael asked in a low voice, as they cleaned out the manure.

Legolas shook his head. “He is angry all the time, and I have no idea why.” He settled to their task and let the rhythm of the work distract him from thoughts of Galelas. Mucking out stables was a task he had never done until becoming a novice six months ago. He had cared for his own horse, but stable boys had cleaned Thranduil’s stables. He found, however, that he did not mind it, and he knew that Tonduil, who loved horses, sometimes found the time spent on this chore to be the best part of the day. Tonduil and Annael both thought it amusing that Legolas had never shoveled manure before and had teased him about being spoiled. By unspoken agreement, the three of them had not told Galelas and Isendir that Legolas had previously been spared this task.

The two groups of novices worked industriously for a time, and then, still holding a pitchfork, Galelas approached the younger three, with Isendir trailing behind him. “We will leave you three to finish up here,” he said with a shrug meant to show his indifference to their reaction. “Seniority should have some privileges,” he added, smiling offensively.

The other three glared at him. “We are all supposed to do the mucking out,” Legolas said, rather heatedly. Off the training field, he had no intention of tolerating any nastiness from Galelas.

Galelas set the prongs of his pitchfork in a nearby pile of manure and flicked it at Legolas’s boots. “Your boots are filthy,” he said, an unmistakable challenge in his voice.

“Galelas, get back to your task immediately.” They all jumped at the unexpected voice of Maldor, the unarmed combat master. Legolas spun toward the doorway to find Maldor’s stern gaze directed toward him. “And, Legolas, it is not your place to tell other novices what to do. You are just another novice, and the youngest one here at that.” He looked at them all. “You will finish the task in silence,” he added.

His face flaming, Galelas moved back to where he and Isendir had stopped and began to work. The others, too, turned to their task, working industriously until Maldor left, evidently satisfied that they would continue. None of them said anything further, but when they had finished, Galelas deliberately bumped against Legolas on his way to their mid-day meal in the novices’ common room. This was not going to end well, thought Legolas unhappily. Galelas was too determined to pick a fight.

***

When Legolas returned home for evening meal, the shortest path took him through one of the palace gardens where, to his delight, he found Eilian sitting on a bench with Alfirin. His arm was still splinted and supported by a sling, and he looked tired, but at least he was out of bed and getting around.

“Should you be out here?” Legolas asked.

Alfirin smiled knowingly. “I have already asked him that question,” she said placidly.

“You both sound like Adar and Belówen combined,” said Eilian cheerfully, “and I mean that in the most insulting way possible.”

Legolas laughed. “You do seem better,” he admitted.

“He will be returning to his bed shortly,” said Alfirin firmly. “He has done enough for today.”

“Yes, Nana,” Eilian responded. He sniffed the air and then wrinkled his nose at Legolas. “You are planning to bathe and change before evening meal, are you not?” he asked. “I am sorry to tell you that you smell like an unclean stable.”

Legolas made a face but kept the story of the quarrel in the stable to himself. “I am on my way to do that now,” he said and left them.

***

Legolas strolled along through the trees on his way to the cottage of Miriwen’s family. He savored being out of the palace in the spring night with the inky sky over him bursting with stars. Until he had become a novice, his father had not allowed him out of the palace at night without permission, but the novice masters sometimes required his presence at night, and Thranduil had told him that he no longer needed to ask each time, for he answered to the masters now. Somewhat uneasily, Legolas had chosen to believe that this meant that he could go out at night whenever he liked. Thranduil had assumed that Legolas saw Miriwen only on the green in the company of others, and Legolas had let him go on thinking so, but in reality, he had been to see Miriwen often in the last few months.

Tonight, however, would be the first time he had seen her since Eilian had been brought home. He had spent his evenings sitting with his brother and then had had the night archery drills, so he could not have come to see her in any case. But he had also been troubled by what his father had said about not giving Miriwen or her parents false expectations. He did not want to believe that he should no longer see her, but he had not been able to work out how he should behave. Today, though, was Miriwen’s begetting day, and his longing to visit her had drawn him out of the palace.

Her family’s cottage was small, but her parents had always made him feel welcome, and tonight was no exception. Although they usually sat in the warm, fragrant kitchen, tonight they gathered before the fire in the small sitting room in honor of the occasion. The room was scattered with books and papers, for Miriwen’s father was a scholar and tutor to several elflings. Miriwen’s baby sister, who was crawling about on the floor, seemed to be particularly attracted to the crinkly paper. Legolas scooped the child up and swung her overhead, giggling, as her father rescued his papers.

“Alfirin is with child,” he told them happily, bouncing the baby on his knees. She grabbed for his braids, and he laughingly let her tug on one.

“That is wonderful!” Miriwen’s mother cried. “The king must be thrilled.” She was bustling around setting out honey cakes for them. “I will send Alfirin some of the tea that helped me to feel better when I was carrying this one.” She paused to drop an affectionate kiss on the top of the baby’s head.

“One of the elflings I taught today has a new baby in his household,” Miriwen’s father told them, savoring the sweet cake. “He claims that he cannot do his lessons any more because the baby keeps him awake at night.” They all laughed.

Legolas did not stay late, for they all had to be up early in the morning. Miriwen’s parents never allowed them to go out together alone, but they usually did allow her to walk outside with him and say good night. The open door behind them flooded the path with light, and they drew aside into the shadow of a lilac bush that was now in full bloom.

“I have something for you,” he said and pulled a small package from his pocket. He watched her eagerly as she slipped the paper aside, revealing the necklace he had gotten from the silversmith.

“Oh,” she exclaimed. “It is beautiful. Help me to put it on.” She turned her back to him and held her hair to one side so that he could put the chain around her neck and fasten it. As his fingers brushed the nape of her neck, he felt her tremble slightly. Or perhaps it was his hands that shook. She turned toward him. The little oak leaf had slid inside the high neck of her gown, and she tugged the fabric down slightly so that he could see it. He hesitated a second and then bent to kiss the base of her throat. The cool silver of the oak leaf mingled with the warmth of her skin under his mouth. He could feel both her pulse and his own racing wildly. Her hands had been on his shoulders and now knotted themselves into fists in his tunic.

He pulled back and looked into her wide, dark eyes. Her lips parted slightly and he bent again to touch them with his own. She tasted of the honey cakes.

“Miriwen!” called her father’s voice from the doorway. “It is time to come in now.” Legolas loosened his arms reluctantly as she pulled away from him. She smiled sweetly, pushed one of his braids out of the way, and stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. Then she was gone, into the house. The door closed behind her, shutting off the stream of light from inside.

There was a bench against the side of the house on which the family sat in the evenings in fine weather. Legolas dropped onto it now, inhaling the heavy scent of the lilacs and waiting for his ragged breathing to return to normal. He leaned his head back against the wall of the house. He wanted to live in a cottage like this, he unexpectedly thought, reading books peacefully by the fireside or sharing his small news of the day with a wife and children. But he wanted to be a warrior too. He had always wanted to be a warrior. He wanted to serve Mirkwood as his father and brothers did.

He closed his eyes, knowing that what he really wanted right now was Miriwen. His body told him that every time he touched her. He thought that, perhaps, he was learning to love her. He was not sure and there did not seem to be anyone he could talk to about this, except possibly Annael, and Annael was just as inexperienced as he was. For a fleeting moment, he considered talking to his father but decided that he already knew what Thranduil would say, indeed what he had said already.

Why could he not be a warrior and have Miriwen too? Ithilden was married and would soon have a baby, and he commanded Mirkwood’s troops. But Ithilden had waited centuries to marry, he reminded himself, until he no longer spent most of his time on the battlefield. He had reason now to think that he would be present to share the raising of his children with Alfirin, and that Alfirin would not be left a young widow.

Legolas briefly envisioned Eilian, who had a reputation for flirting lightly with a succession of pretty maidens. For the first time, it occurred to him that his brother’s capricious romances might not be what he would choose, if he had a choice.

He feared that when it came down to it, for him there was no real choice either. As Thranduil’s son, he had been bred to duty.

The last light went out in the cottage. He should not have come here tonight, he thought miserably. He should not have given Miriwen the necklace. He should not have kissed her. What was he going to do now? He rose unhappily from the bench and started home.

4. Wrestling with Problems

Annael grabbed at Legolas’s hip with his left hand and brought the heel of his right hand up towards his friend’s chin. Legolas tried to pivot backward, but Annael was suddenly in the way of his leg and he staggered. He quickly hooked one arm around Annael’s torso, hoping to pull Ananel off balance before Annael did the same thing to him. To his dismay, he felt his feet go out from under him, and he landed on the mat on his back. Annael grabbed his right arm, rolled Legolas over onto his stomach, and shoved the arm up behind his back. Legolas tried to keep rolling and slither out of the hold, but Annael put his free hand on the back of Legolas’s head and shoved it into the mat.

“A takedown,” called Maldor from the sidelines. “A sloppy takedown, but a takedown.” His face impassive, Annael put out his hand to help Legolas to his feet, and then the two of them walked to where the master and Galelas, Isendir, and Tonduil stood. This was the last match of this day, the first day of a week of unarmed combat training. It had been a grueling day, under Maldor’s critical eye, and they were all grateful that it was drawing to a close.

“Annael,” said Maldor, “you were too tentative at the end. You should have brought his arm up higher and shoved his face into the mat immediately. He nearly rolled away from you.” Annael nodded.

Maldor now turned to Legolas. “You reacted reflexively and tried to back up,” he said. “You plainly had lost track of where your opponent’s legs were. You need to anticipate what he is likely to do, and if you do go down like that, you need to be rolling when you hit the ground so that you have some chance to get up again.” Legolas too nodded. What Maldor said was true enough.

“All of you pick up the mats and put them away,” Maldor now instructed. “I will see you here in the morning.” He turned and walked toward the masters’ hut. The five of them began brushing dirt and grass off the mats and rolling them up, preparing to lug them off to the storage hut.

“So, Annael,” Galelas began, “you must not have wanted to hurt the king’s son.”

Legolas glanced up from where he was shoving the last turn of a mat into place and saw Annael stand slowly to face Galelas. “What do you mean?” Annael asked.

“I mean that you obviously want to stay on his good side, so you were unwilling to twist his arm good and hard and rub his face in the mat.” Galelas’s eyes were gleaming. He was enjoying himself. Annael began to walk slowly toward him. Legolas jumped to his feet and moved hastily between them. It took a lot to upset Annael, Legolas knew, but Galelas had been nagging at them for weeks now.

“Galelas,” he said, “you know that I am the one you want to provoke, not Annael. What I do not understand is why. I have done nothing to you.”

“You,” Galelas spat, “you are so accustomed to your advantages that you do not even notice them. Was there ever any doubt that you would be a warrior, no matter what your skills? Of course not. Is there any doubt that you will captain troops whether you prove competent or not? Of course not. What the rest of us have to work for, you have handed to you. You make me sick.”

Legolas stepped toward Galelas, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You do not know what you are talking about,” he said coldly. “And what you are saying is an insult to the masters and the troop commander.”

“I repeat,” Galelas retorted, “you are so accustomed to your advantages that you do not see them. If you and I were to fight as equals, with no masters around to set the rules, what do you think would happen?”

“What is going on here?” Maldor’s voice snapped like a whip through the early evening air. They all spun and found him glaring at them. They had been so absorbed in the argument that they had not seen him approaching in conversation with another elf. Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw the other elf also watching the scene from the gathering shadows. With dismay, he recognized Ithilden.

“You three,” Maldor barked, indicating Annael, Tonduil, and Isendir, “put those mats away. Now!” Annael sent an apologetic glance at Legolas and then jumped to help the other two do as they had been told. Maldor turned back to Galelas and Legolas.

“I thought that I had made it clear to you that this kind of childish squabbling would not be tolerated. It is damaging to morale and to any possibility of your fighting well together. Galelas, I never want to hear of you and Legolas fighting with no masters around to set the rules. And Legolas, I do not care if you think that someone has just insulted every warrior in the forces of Mirkwood; the next time I see you walking toward another novice with your fists clenched, it had better be on the training field.”

Legolas flushed, and even Galelas looked sobered by the reprimand.

“The two of you will run the warm up course again,” Maldor went on. “If you have energy to quarrel, you have energy to run.” They hesitated. “Go,” he snapped. “I will be waiting here when you get back, so do not be too long about it.”

They set off, pushing tired muscles to repeat the two-league run that they had done that morning. As they started on the course, Legolas glanced over to where Ithilden had been standing, but he was gone. He wondered briefly how much Ithilden had witnessed, and then had to bring all of his concentration to see where he was running in the dusky light and force his tired body through the exercise. They ran in utter silence, both needing all their breath for things other than talk. When they finally returned to the training field, Maldor was still there. He eyed them, as they bent over panting for breath.

“You may go,” he told them. “Do not let me see a repeat of this behavior.” He turned his back on them and walked away. Legolas lingered for a moment so that Galelas would have time to get out of the way before he started for home.

***

When he entered the family quarters of the palace, Legolas went first to his room to bathe and try to forget the frustrations of the afternoon. He was so late that he had probably missed evening meal anyway. He might as well get clean before he went in search of food and company.

He entered the family sitting room to find only Eilian there. He was sitting before the fireplace reading, with his left arm extended out in an odd contraption that Belówen had been making him spend time in for the last week or so. It consisted of a cord that attached to pads on Eilian’s wrist and then ran over a rack that had been moved next to the chair and then hung down with a weight at the end. The whole thing stretched his arm out from the cramped position in which the sling held it during the rest of the day. It was probably uncomfortable, but Eilian would not admit to that.

“You are late tonight,” Eilian observed. “You missed evening meal.”

“I asked the servants to bring something here,” Legolas responded. “Where is everyone?” He felt a little shame-faced about seeing Ithilden after his brother had seen him being dressed down at the training fields.

“Adar said that he had to read some reports on a case that will come before him in court tomorrow.” Eilian grinned rather wickedly and added, “Ithilden and Alfirin slipped away some time ago, and I did not think it my place to ask them where they were going.”

Legolas felt himself blush slightly. A thought occurred to him. Perhaps he could ask Eilian what he should do about Miriwen. A servant brought in a tray with cold meat, bread, and wine and set it on a table near the chair opposite Eilian’s. Legolas suddenly wondered what Galelas would make of his being waited on by a servant like this. He shoved that thought aside and ate while he considered whether he really wanted to tell his troubles to his brother. He sighed. He might as well. He was not coming to any useful conclusions on his own.

“Eilian,” he began tentatively.

His brother looked up from his book expectantly. “Yes?” he prompted, when Legolas failed to go on.

“I would like your advice about something,” Legolas went on bravely. Eilian closed his book and gave his brother his undivided attention. “I . . .,” Legolas paused again. This was going to be even harder than he had thought. “It is about my friend Miriwen,” he said finally.

Eilian’s face was carefully neutral. “The one you were with at Ithilden’s wedding?” he asked.

“Yes,” Legolas was relieved that Eilian knew whom he meant. “I have been visiting her at her family’s home for the last few months.”

“Oh?” Again Eilian’s face was unreadable. For some reason, Legolas found that encouraging.

“But Adar says that I need to be careful because I will not be in a position to marry for a long while yet, so I do not want to give her false expectations.”

It was all Eilian could do to suppress a smile. He could absolutely hear his father’s words being spoken in Legolas’s voice. But his brother was too much in earnest to allow for any amusement. “And what do you think?” Eilian asked.

Legolas paused. “I think that maybe Adar is right,” he said in a small voice. “But I like her, Eilian, and I do not want to stop seeing her. And I do not want to hurt her.” He sounded miserable, and Eilian’s heart went out to him.

“It sounds as if you might want two things at the same time,” he said sympathetically.

“Yes, that is exactly it,” Legolas said, relieved that Eilian had understood. “But what am I going to do?”

“Have you talked to Miriwen about this?” Eilian asked.

“No,” said Legolas. “I have stayed away from her. I have not seen her in two weeks now.”

“How often had you seen her before?” Eilian asked curiously.

Legolas considered. “Perhaps twice a week,” he offered.

Eilian blinked. “Adar allowed that?” He was surprised that Thranduil would have permitted such frequent visits between the two young people.

There was a pause. “I do not believe that he knows about it,” said Legolas.

“I see,” said Eilian wryly. Thranduil had always had difficulty keeping Legolas in at night. Apparently things had not changed. Eilian considered. His little brother might not want to hurt the maiden, but he was going to if he were not careful. “You cannot just stop seeing her with no explanation,” he said firmly. “You must talk to her.” Legolas looked unhappy. “For all you know,” Eilian added, “she does not want to bind herself to you anyway.”

Legolas looked as if this possibility had never occurred to him, and Eilian almost laughed at his unconscious egotism.

Legolas hesitated and then blurted, “We kiss.”

“Yes, I suppose you would,” Eilian said matter-of-factly. “If you have done nothing more than that, then I do not think that you have done much harm.”

“We have done nothing more, but I want to,” Legolas confessed, not meeting Eilian’s gaze.

Eilian shrugged. “Many Elves your age are forming attachments that will lead to bonding,” he said. “It is normal to want to do more than kiss. But of course, as Adar says, you cannot.”

Legolas blinked. Eilian made it all sound so easy.

“Talk to her,” Eilian urged, just as Belówen gave a perfunctory knock and entered the sitting room to check on Eilian’s arm. Legolas left the room and went to his bed, feeling as if perhaps he might be able to set things right with Miriwen after all.

***

Legolas sat with Annael in the early morning sunshine, waiting for the masters to arrive and start the day’s training. “Am I spoiled?” he asked suddenly.

Annael looked at him surprised and then smiled slightly. “Meaning overindulged, undisciplined, allowed to do whatever you like?” he asked dryly. “No.”

“But what about being waited on by servants and never having mucked out a stable? What about assuming that some day I will captain troops?” Legolas countered.

Annael considered. “I think that what you are is privileged, not spoiled,” he said finally. “You have certain privileges because of who you are, but so far as I can see, your adar sees to it that you have obligations that more than balance them out. I would not trade places with you,” he finished.

“No?”

“Having to wear formal robes and attend your adar’s court regularly would be enough to make me glad not to be you,” Annael grinned. “No offense meant, of course.”

Legolas laughed. “None taken,” he said.

They rose to their feet as the masters approached to begin the day.

***

Maldor’s fist moved toward Isendir’s face, but the novice blocked it with his customary quickness. Maldor grabbed Isendir’s arm, hooked his foot out from under him, and threw him on his back. Maldor stepped back. “That is enough,” he said. “Your block was quick.” Isendir flushed at the unexpected praise from the unarmed combat master and went to sit with the other novices who had been watching the demonstration.

“Legolas next,” Maldor called. Legolas rose and went to face him. “Remember,” Maldor instructed, “I will come at your face some time during this bout. You have to block or get out of the way quickly. I am not going to hit you with my full strength, but if you do not stop me, I will hit you.” Legolas nodded and took up his stance.

He had thought that he was ready, but then he had not expected Maldor to step in and jab at his face immediately. He tried to deflect the blow but was too slow and Maldor’s fist connected with his left cheek. He staggered but stayed on his feet and would have tried to keep sparring, but Maldor stopped the bout immediately. “You knew that was coming. You had warning, and you still were not ready for it,” he said sharply. “Go and sit down.”

Embarrassed, Legolas dropped down next to a concerned looking Annael. “Are you all right?” Annael whispered. Legolas nodded. His face felt as if he had been kicked by a horse, but he did not think he was actually injured. He took a deep breath and tried to watch Maldor working with Tonduil.

Truth be told, Legolas worried about Tonduil. Alfirin’s brother was not particularly good with most weapons, and he did not even seem to enjoy using them most of the time. He only really became animated around the horses. Legolas wondered why he had opted to become a warrior. Just now, he was clearly frightened that Maldor would hurt him. Surreptitiously touching his left cheek, Legolas could not blame him.

Maldor stood studying the novice in front of him. Then with a deliberation that Legolas found shocking, he slapped Tonduil hard across the face with his open palm. Tonduil gasped and put his hand to his face. “Did that hurt?” asked Maldor.

“Yes,” Tonduil choked out.

“Yet note that you are still alive,” Maldor said. “It is only pain. You can learn from pain. It can teach you things that can keep you alive.” He paused. Legolas held his breath. Tonduil seemed to be fighting tears. “Go and sit down,” said Maldor.

Legolas choked with rage on Tonduil’s behalf. “There can be no excuse for that,” he muttered to Annael, unfortunately not quite quietly enough. He looked up to find Maldor regarding him with narrowed eyes, obviously having heard him.

“I am putting you on disciplinary report, Legolas,” Maldor said. “You need to learn to respect the actions of your superior officers.”

***

Thranduil seated himself at the table in the family’s small private dining room. He looked at Legolas’s empty chair.

“Eilian, go and see if Legolas is coming,” Thranduil instructed.

Eilian rose and went off toward Legolas’s chamber to see if he were back from training yet. He did not have to go far, however, before he met his younger brother who was obviously just coming in. He looked disgruntled. What drew Eilian’s attention, however, was the bruise on his swollen left cheek and the black eye that was developing above it.

“What happened?” he demanded, reaching out toward the bruise.

Legolas slapped his hand aside sharply. “Nothing,” he said brusquely. “We are doing unarmed combat, and this was just a training mishap.” He tried to slip past Eilian but found his way blocked.

Eilian paused and then in the most nonjudgmental tone he could manage asked, “Is Maldor still the unarmed combat master?”

“Yes,” Legolas responded unhappily. “Please let me by. I am in a hurry.”

Eilian failed to move. “Adar wants to know if you are coming to evening meal,” he said.

“I cannot,” Legolas returned doggedly. “I have to go clean up and then go back to stand night guard duty.”

Eilian raised his eyebrows. Night guard duty was assigned to novices when they were being disciplined. “Why?” he asked.

“Eilian, this is not your business,” said Legolas rather desperately. “Please, just leave it.” Again, he tried to get by his brother and this time Eilian let him.

“I will have the kitchen send some food to your chamber,” he called after Legolas’s departing back.

“Thank you.” Legolas disappeared into his room.

Eilian paused to speak to a servant about having a meal sent to Legolas’s chamber and then returned to the dining room. “He is not coming,” he reported, anger tightening his voice. “He had just returned home, and he has to stand night guard duty.” He looked accusingly at Ithilden. “His faced is badly bruised. Maldor’s methods of teaching unarmed combat have apparently not changed much since I was a novice.”

Ithilden stiffened. Eilian was coming dangerously near criticizing his choice of novice masters. “I trust that you did not criticize one of the masters to Legolas,” he said, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“Of course not,” Eilian was impatient. “Why do you allow Maldor to continue to teach the novices?”

Ithilden was obviously trying to keep his temper in check. “Maldor is a very successful teacher,” he said.

“I do not like him,” said Eilian flatly.

“You do not have to like him,” Ithilden was becoming openly heated, and Alfirin put her hand on his arm. “His appointment is my choice.”

Eilian ignored his brother’s rising ire. “He once broke Gelmir’s nose,” he put in, naming a friend who now served under his command in the southern patrol.

“Eilian,” Thranduil’s voice contained a warning.

“Let me do this, Adar,” Ithilden snapped, not so much as glancing at his father. His angry gaze was fixed on Eilian. “Has Gelmir been hit in the face since then?” he asked.

Eilian too looked angry. “Of course he has,” he responded shortly.

“Did he quit the fight and run away?” Ithilden persisted.

“You know that that is not the point!” Eilian cried.

“It is the point,” Ithilden insisted. “Maldor does not deliberately hurt the novices but he does not always pull his punches either. He believes that students who are hurt in safety will be able to tolerate it better in a real battle, and I cannot say that he is wrong.”

There was a moment’s silence. Eilian thought that Alfirin looked appalled. “Why is Legolas standing night guard duty?” he asked abruptly.

“Eilian, this is Ithilden’s responsibility, not yours,” Thranduil put in, obviously exasperated.

Ithliden spoke over his father’s voice. “I will not get disciplinary reports until tomorrow morning, so I do not know. But even if I did know, I would not talk to you about it any more than I would talk about such a matter to the family of any other novice.” They glared at one another.

“Enough!” Thranduil finally made himself heard, slapping his hand on the table hard enough to make the dishes jump. “There is to be no more discussion of this matter here. If it is really business between captain and commander, which I doubt, you may take it up tomorrow in Ithilden’s office.” They turned to their meal in uncomfortable silence.

After a moment, Alfirin asked, “Were you busy in court this morning, Adar?”

Thranduil made an effort to collect himself. “No,” he said. “There was a complicated property dispute, but very little else.”

Abruptly, Eilian pushed back his chair. “I am tired,” he said, “and obviously ill-humored. With your leave, Adar, I think that I will retire.” Thranduil nodded, and he left the room.

***

Legolas woke with a start. His innate sense of time told him immediately that he was later than he should have been. The night guard duty had left him with far fewer hours to sleep than he usually had. He leapt from the bed and scrambled into his clothes.

He was still buckling his belt as he hurried down the hall of the family quarters, only to find Thranduil blocking his way, in an echo of Eilian on the previous evening.

“Adar, I will be late,” he said impatiently.

“Then you should have started earlier,” said Thranduil, unperturbed. He grasped his youngest son’s chin and tilted his face to the light of the crystal lantern on the wall, examining the already-fading bruise. “Are you hurt elsewhere?” he asked in a neutral tone.

“No. Adar, please!”

Thranduil released him and stepped to one side. “Go,” he said.

Legolas took off at a dead run. Tardiness this morning would be a very bad idea indeed.

***

Ithilden scanned the disciplinary report that had been on his desk when he entered his office. “Insubordination,” it read. Perhaps he should not be surprised; he had heard Legolas be insolent to Thranduil on occasion. But he had never before had any weapons master complain about Legolas’s attitude during training.

He thought about the scene he had witnessed the other evening. He had been startled to see Legolas and Galelas apparently squaring off for a fight. What had gotten into his little brother?

He rubbed his temples. Perhaps he was overreacting because this was Legolas. At one time or another, most novices had trouble with the strict discipline of the training. They needed to learn to follow orders, and the lesson was a hard one at their age. It was the rare novice who never had to be reprimanded.

He thought of his quarrel with Eilian over Maldor. He believed that he was right in his judgment of the unarmed combat master, but Eilian was normally a good judge of character so their disagreement troubled Ithilden. Alfirin was unhappy over what she had heard about the master, he knew. She worried about Tonduil, who had startled his family by deciding only a year ago that he wanted to be a warrior.

He sighed, signed the report, and tossed it aside.

5. Family Matters

Alfirin tossed the shuttle from side to side, her feet working the pedals that brought the variously colored strands of wool forward and back. She had not planned this design ahead of time but rather was watching it emerge as she wove in an almost meditative concentration. When she was weaving, it was sometimes as if she were at a taut attention with her senses focused only on what was happening in the moment that was unfolding. It was a feeling that she experienced at no other time except, perhaps, when she and Ithilden were making love.

Today, however, other thoughts kept intruding on her attention. She was worried about Tonduil. Her brother was unhappy, and he would not tell her or their parents why. He had always been a gentle soul, and his decision to become a warrior had taken them all by surprise. She feared that he was finding the training to be more brutal than he had realized it would be. She herself still had trouble sometimes accepting the violence that was part of Ithilden’s life.

As always now, she was also aware of the baby. She felt the small life tenaciously grasping its place in her body and its hold on her heart. “Ah, little one,” she thought, “how will I bear it when you are unhappy? What would I do if someone should hurt you?”

She glanced up when the door to her and Ithilden’s private sitting room opened and her maid entered. “My lady,” she smiled, “Miriwen is here to see you.”

“Show her in,” cried Alfirin in delight, laying the shuttle aside. Her own family’s cottage was near that of Miriwen’s family, and she had known the younger Miriwen since infancy, but she had seen little of the maiden since she had married. She rose and greeted Miriwen with a fond embrace. “Some tea, I think,” she told the maid, “and perhaps some of that seed cake that the cooks made this morning.” She led Miriwen to seats by the fire. “How good it is to see you,” she declared.

Miriwen offered Alfirin a parcel. “My naneth sends you this,” she said. “It is an herb tea that she drank when she was carrying my little sister. She says that it settled her stomach and that you may have need of it.” She sat down a little awkwardly, looking as if she might be uncomfortable in these surroundings, so different from the cottages in which they had both grown up.

“Thank your naneth for me,” said Alfirin, accepting the gift. “I have been fortunate so far and have not been ill, but it is good to be prepared.” The maid entered the room with the tea and cakes, and Alfirin busied herself in serving them, deliberately giving Miriwen time to become more at ease.

She looked at the maiden, who was staring distractedly at a spot on the carpet and playing with the charm hanging from a thin silver chain around her neck. “Would you like some tea, Miriwen?” she asked. Miriwen started out of her reverie and took the cup that Alfirin was offering.

Alfirin sat back in the chair and studied her, realizing with dismay that Miriwen looked close to tears. “Is something the matter, Miri?” she asked gently, using the pet name that her family and neighbors had all used for this sweet maiden when she was an elfling.

“Yes,” answered Miriwen, “everything is the matter.” And then she began to cry – soft, strangled sobs that tore at Alfirin’s heart. With an exclamation, she took the teacup from Miriwen’s hand and put it on the table. Then she knelt before the maiden’s chair and put her arms around her as best she could from this awkward position. Miriwen leaned forward, put her head on Alfirin’s shoulder, and wept.

“What is it?” Alfirin asked. “Tell me.”

“It is Legolas,” Miriwen said. “He has not been to see me in three weeks.” Enlightenment washed over Alfirin. So that was it. How hard it is to be young, she thought.

“Legolas has had night guard duty this week,” Alfirin offered a bit tentatively. She felt that she had no right to tell Miriwen that Legolas was being punished if he did not want it known. And more than that, she did not want to encourage Miriwen to believe that the night guard duty was the reason Legolas had not gone to see her. She did not know if that was true.

But Miriwen seized on the information. “Really?” she asked, eagerly. Then her face clouded again. “But what of the two weeks before that?” she said sadly. “I know that I should not have counted on his coming because he made no promise, but I thought that he would.” She bit her lower lip. “I wanted him to,” she said simply.

Alfirin felt a strong longing to tell her young brother-in-law exactly what she thought of him right now. “I am sorry, Miri,” she said. “If he has said nothing to you, then he has behaved badly.”

Miriwen wiped her cheeks with her hand. “If he does not want to see me, then I do not want to see him,” she said determinedly.

Alfirin sighed. “Perhaps you should talk to him,” she suggested.

“How can I if he does not come to see me?” Miriwen asked. “I cannot go to the training field. I cannot even come here very well.”

Alfirin hugged her. There really was nothing she could say.

“I must go home. Naneth will be looking for me.” Miriwen rose.

They left the room and walked along the corridor together, with Alfirin’s arm around Miriwen’s shoulders. They had reached the door leading from the family’s quarters when they met Thranduil coming in. Alfirin could not help smiling at the sight of him. The king had been out riding, and in his tunic and leggings with his handsome face flushed from the exercise, he looked not much older than Ithilden.

Miriwen dropped a small curtsy. “My lord,” she said.

“Miriwen’s naneth has been good enough to send me some special tea, Adar,” Alfirin told him.

“That was kind of her,” Thranduil said, smiling at Miriwen. Then his eyes caught the silver oak leaf that hung about her neck, and he froze for a moment. Realizing what he was looking at, Miriwen flushed and involuntarily clutched at the charm. Thranduil pulled his eyes back to her face and smiled again. “Please thank your naneth for us.” And he walked off down the hallway toward his chamber.

***

Eilian tugged at the buckle on the leather cylinder that braced his left arm from elbow to wrist. “How does that feel?” asked Belówen. “Is it comfortable when you bend your arm?”

Eilian bent his arm and turned it in various directions. “I feel no pain at all,” he said. This was not, strictly speaking, true, for his arm ached, but he did not feel the acute pain that any movement had caused as recently as two weeks ago.

“You can do without the sling, then,” Belówen said, “but you must wear the brace all the time, even when you sleep. And I am releasing you for light duty only. No archery. Do you understand?”

Eilian frowned at him. “But I may go back to my patrol?”

Belówen rolled his eyes. “Light duty does not include the southern patrol, Eilian. I had in mind something more like helping Ithilden with his paperwork.” Eilian looked so horrified that the healer laughed.

“I no longer feel pain in the arm,” Eilian persisted. “Surely it is time for me to begin rebuilding the strength in it.”

Belówen looked at him severely. “Do you wish to be able to fire a bow again, my lord?” he asked.

Eilian looked dismayed. “Of course!”

“Then do as you are told,” Belówen said emphatically. “Do not lift anything heavy. Do not try to use a bow. Let your arm continue to heal. I will tell Ithilden that you are fit for office work or perhaps some nice easy job minding the novices.” He gathered up his satchel and left the room.

Decidedly sobered, Eilian wandered out of the palace and down toward the training fields. He had been growing increasingly restless in the last week, and his good temper was beginning to fray. He watched a class of warriors going through an advanced archery drill for a while, wishing disconsolately that he could join them. Then he walked toward the novice training fields, thinking of the options that Belówen had suggested. Working with the novices outstripped paperwork by a long shot in his estimation.

As he neared the fields, he spotted Legolas in the middle of a small group of novices. They were practicing archery on horseback this afternoon. A pole with three targets ranged around it had been set up in the middle of a large ring, and one by one, under the watchful eye of the archery master, they were riding into the ring and circling the pole at a gallop, firing arrows into the targets as they went. Eilian saw Lómilad, the novice master, leaning against the fence watching the drill. He came to a halt next to him.

“Eilian,” Lómilad greeted him. “It is good to see you out on the fields again. How is the arm?”

“It is better,” Eilian said. “The healers have given me leave to return to light duty. They suggested that I might be of some use to the novices.”

Lómilad smiled. “We would be happy to have you,” he said. He gestured toward the ring. “Your brother’s class is going well,” he said.

They both turned to look at the rider in the ring. Eilian watched as the sturdy looking rider circled the targets, controlling the horse with his knees while he fired arrow after arrow. “Who is that?” he asked. “He looks familiar, but I cannot place him.”

“It is Galelas,” Lómilad said. “He is Tinár’s younger brother.”

“Ah,” was Eilian’s only comment. Tinár had served for a while under Eilian in the southern patrol. He was a talented warrior who was so arrogant that he had eventually alienated almost all of his fellows, and Eilian had asked Ithilden to transfer him elsewhere. Galelas looked much like his older brother. Eilian and Lómilad watched in silence as Galelas completed the drill. “He shoots well,” Eilian observed, and the novice master nodded in agreement.

“He has worked hard,” Lómilad said. “I do not think that he has the natural talent that his older brother has.”

The archery master was now dragging the targets toward one end of the long enclosure. He returned to his charges and issued a new set of orders. Eilian recognized the drill. In this one, the novices would ride away from the targets and twist around to fire backwards at them. The drill was difficult because it was a tricky angle for a rider to shoot from and he had to control the horse at the same time.

Legolas’s friend Annael was the first rider into the arena. He was a good horseman and a competent archer, but he still had trouble with the unfamiliar angle and almost half of his shots went wide. He rode back toward the archery master who seemed to be offering him advice that Eilian could not hear at this distance. Whatever he said must have been useful though, for when Annael rode back onto the course and repeated the drill, his aim was much better.

Eilian recognized the next rider as Tonduil, Alfirin’s brother. Tonduil lay forward on his horse’s neck, whispering to the stallion whose ears were flicking back in response. Then he straightened up and, with another word to the animal, began the drill. The horse flew down the field, straight and true, while Tonduil twisted around and shot at the targets diminishing behind him.

Eilian watched with interest. Tonduil’s technique with the bow was far more ragged than Annael’s, and yet his first time through the drill was actually more successful, which could only be because he had better control of the horse. Any warrior who had ever fired a bow from horseback knew that the whole secret of doing it well lay in being in harmony with the animal you were riding. Tonduil finished his run, turned, and trotted easily back toward the archery master. Even at this distance, Eilian could see the master grin at the novice and then begin demonstrating some point about his handling of the bow.

Next to him, Lómilad sighed thoughtfully and then turned toward Eilian. “This group is going on a training mission the day after tomorrow,” he said. “Maldor is in command of it, and Thelion is going too. They would probably welcome your help if you do not think that Legolas’s presence in the group will make your going a problem.”

Eilian paused. He did not think that Legolas’s presence would present an insurmountable problem. Eilian had served directly under Ithilden and had watched his older brother carefully avoid any situation in which he might be believed to favor Eilian. He thought that he could do the same.

The question was whether he could treat Maldor respectfully as the commander of the training mission. He had had almost no contact with Maldor since he himself was a novice. He had wanted none. On the other hand, he was bored silly. Moreover, he liked Thelion, the blade master, and would enjoy going on even a novice training mission with him. And he thought that his presence might encourage Maldor to be more temperate in his handling of the novices and particularly of Legolas. He did not want to interfere in the master’s handling of the novices; he knew the complexities of command better than to do so. But in Eilian’s book, an officer who could not stand to let others watch him deal with his subordinates was suspect.

“I believe that Maldor is in the masters’ hut,” said Lómilad. “Go and talk to him about it. Tell him that I said that I approve if he does.” He turned his attention back toward the field as Tonduil began his second run.

Eilian knocked on the open door of the masters’ hut and stepped inside. He had never been in it before. The small room was cluttered with training equipment, barely leaving room for two benches and a small table upon which were piled papers and empty cups. Maldor was seated on one of the benches oiling a pair of boots. “Hello, Eilian,” he said, looking a bit surprised to see him there. “How is your arm?”

“Good enough that I have been released for light duty with the novices,” Eilian responded. “Lómilad suggested that I might go on the training mission that you are leading for the youngest group. That is,” he added, “if you are willing.”

Maldor regarded him thoughtfully. “Will you have problems with Legolas being in the class?” he asked.

“I do not think so. I believe that I am capable of treating him as I treat the others,” Eilian responded.

Maldor raised an eyebrow. “But he not like the others, is he?”

Eilian bristled. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean that he is Thranduil’s son, and he will eventually be in command of other troops,” said Maldor easily. “He is in a more difficult situation than the other novices. He should not demand special treatment now, but, on the other hand, he will eventually receive it because of who he is. So he must practice obedience now but learn command for the future.”

Eilian blinked. “Surely training to be a warrior is task enough for now,” he protested.

Maldor shrugged. “It should be, but when you see him with the others, you will see that none of them forgets who he is and, though I do not think he realizes it, neither does he. Already he assumes a kind of leadership at times, even when he should not.”

Eilian was silent for a moment. Finally he asked, “What do you mean by ‘a kind of leadership’?”

Maldor put the boot he was oiling down and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “You three sons of Thranduil each have different strengths as leaders,” he began. Eilian could feel himself becoming annoyed already at whatever analysis of him and his brothers this offensive Elf was about to present. He dropped onto the bench opposite Maldor and gritted his teeth, waiting.

“I did not train Ithilden, of course; he is older than I am. But I believe that he has always been very much like your father. Anyone can see that if he were dropped into the middle of an uninhabited forest, he would soon be organizing the deer and inspiring the squirrels to work as a unit. He is a natural born leader.” He smiled at the thought. Eilian had never seen him smile before, and he found it unsettling. But he could not help laughing at the image that Maldor evoked or seeing its truth.

Maldor leaned back against the wall and regarded Eilian. “You were different. I was not sure that you had it in you to command troops. You needed excitement, and also I did not believe that you would be particularly happy organizing actions that someone else had devised.”

Eilian stirred uncomfortably. This picture of himself as a novice was unfortunately accurate. He picked up one of the cups from the table and began to turn it in his hands.

“But then,” Maldor went on, “you had the insight to see exactly where your talents and character would be most effective and the glib tongue to talk Ithilden into posting you to the southern patrol. How you did that, I will never know. It must have almost killed Ithilden to do it and then to have to explain his decision to the king,” Maldor snorted. “I would not have wanted to be in his boots.”

Eilian could not keep himself from smiling wryly. He had not been privy to the scene between Thranduil and Ithilden but he knew that it had been a lively one.

“It was a good decision, however. Your daring, your love of making decisions on the fly in the field, your ability to inspire loyalty, they must all have proved useful beyond measure. Perhaps that is what led Ithilden to send you. Perhaps he could see the sense of it.” Maldor contemplated this idea for a moment before going on.

“Legolas is different again. His impulse is to protect those he cares about – Annael, for instance, or Tonduil. But he still sees them as friends, not warriors upon whom Mirkwood must depend. And he does not yet see the need to understand those he does not love and to draw on their strengths as well. He thinks too personally. That is a luxury a captain does not have.”

Eilian put the cup down on the table. He was more impressed by this analysis than he was willing to admit.

Maldor picked up his boot again. “If you wish to come, you are welcome to do so,” he said. “I am hoping that this group learns something about the importance of command on this mission. Your experience would be useful.” He went back to what he had been doing when Eilian entered.

Eilian rose. “I will join you then,” he said and left the hut without another word.

When he approached the training field again, he could see that the lesson was over and the novices were evidently being dismissed for the day. Legolas was walking away with Annael. Eilian called to him, and he turned and smiled broadly to see his brother. He said something to Annael, who walked off with a wave, and then trotted up to Eilian.

“Where is your sling?” he asked. They began to walk together toward the palace.

“I do not have to wear it anymore. As you see, I am almost perfect again,” Eilian said lightly. “Indeed, I am returned to light duty, which evidently means playing games with you novices.”

Legolas suddenly stopped walking. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I am going to accompany your group on a training mission that Maldor is taking you on the day after tomorrow,” Eilian told him.

To Eilian’s surprise, Legolas looked upset. “I do not need your help, Eilian. I can survive perfectly well as a novice on my own,” he said somewhat heatedly.

“I will not be on this mission to ‘help’ you,” Eilian protested. “I will be there to train you. As it happens, I have some experience and skills that could be useful.” He was annoyed at his brother’s unwillingness to have his company.

“I do not believe you,” Legolas said flatly. “You have been itching to interfere since I came home with a bruise. You are like Adar. You still think that I am an elfling.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” Eilian spoke sharply now.

“Will you call me ‘brat’ and demand to know what Maldor could possibly be thinking if he reprimands me?” Legolas demanded.

Eilian blinked. “Of course not,” he said, somewhat more calmly. “I am your superior officer, Legolas. I know what my responsibilities are.”

His brother studied his face intently and then appeared somewhat mollified. “Very well,” he said. He suddenly grinned. “Perhaps this is a good thing. I think that I would like to serve in the southern patrol eventually, and you would be my captain then. We can practice now.”

Eilian smiled weakly. The thought of Legolas in the dangerous southern patrol appalled him. Perhaps he was more protective of his little brother than he had been willing to admit.

6. In Which Tempers Are Lost

Legolas knocked on the door of Miriwen’s family’s cottage. He waited for a moment and then her father opened the door. “Legolas,” he said, sounding surprised. “We have not seen you in a while. Come in.” He opened the door wider and admitted Legolas into the little hallway that led to the kitchen on one side and the sitting room on the other. He led the way into the kitchen, where Miriwen was on the floor playing with the baby while her mother sat knitting in a rocking chair near the fire.

“Hello, Legolas,” said Miriwen’s mother kindly enough, but her gaze went to her older daughter.

When she saw Legolas standing just inside the doorway, Miriwen got abruptly to her feet. Deprived of her playmate, the baby began to cry, and Miriwen’s father picked her up and began tickling her under her chin. In the rapid change of mood that only babies can manage, she laughed and ducked her head.

Miriwen stood looking at him gravely. Always before when he had come to this cottage, Legolas had felt at ease, but tonight he felt awkward, and Miriwen looked as if she did too. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then Miriwen turned toward her mother.

“Naneth,” she said, “I wish to speak to Legolas. Would it be all right if we went into the sitting room?”

“Of course, child,” her mother answered, and Miriwen slid past him into the hall and then into the sitting room. She waited for him to enter the room and then closed the door and stood with her back against it. They looked at one another in silence as they had in the kitchen.

Legolas had come here tonight, resolved to do as Eilian had suggested and talk to Miriwen about his inability to promise anything beyond friendship and his regret over that fact. But beginning the conversation was proving even more difficult than he had imagined it would be. When he did manage to get up the courage to speak, they both talked at once.

"You have not – "

"I am sorry that I have not – "

They stopped. "Go on," he said, relieved to postpone his own explanation.

She drew a deep breath. "You have not been here for three weeks, Legolas. I thought that you had decided that you did not want to be friends any longer."

He was aghast. "No, that is not it at all!" he cried. "Of course, I want to be friends with you. I wish that we could be more than friends."

"Then why have you stayed away so long?" The pain in her voice made him cringe.

"Some of the time, I have had night duty," he offered in explanation.

She nodded. "Yes, Alfirin told me that."

He paused, confused. "Alfirin? When did you talk to Alfirin?"

"This morning," she said. "I took her a gift of my naneth's tea, and we talked then."

"About us?" He was not sure that he liked that idea.

"Yes, about us," said Miriwen defensively. "I have known Alfirin since I was an elfling, and she could see that I was unhappy. Whenn she asked me what was wrong, I told her."

"What did she say?" he asked. He was beginning to feel angry. No, he definitely did not like the idea of Miriwen and Alfirin talking about him behind his back.

"She said that you had had night guard duty, but she also said that if you had not seen me in three weeks, then you had behaved badly." Her chin came up. "But if you do not wish to come and see me, then I certainly do not wish to force you."

"Miriwen, I am very sorry that I have stayed away. I should have spoken to you, but there were reasons that I did not." He had rehearsed his words to her during his walk to the cottage. Surely she was not going to be obstinate and refuse to listen to them?

Now she was fumbling with the clasp on the necklace he had given her. The chain had become tangled in her hair and she was having trouble freeing it. Finally, she tugged hard, and the chain was in her hand, with several strands of hair caught in it. She held it out to him. "I know that your adar did not like seeing me wearing this, Legolas, so I will return it to you."

"Adar? What does Adar have to do with this?" The conversation was sliding out of his control in a nightmare-like fashion.

"He saw the necklace when I was at the palace this morning, and I could see that he was surprised, and not happily so." She offered the necklace to him again.

He tried one last time. "Miriwen, there were reasons that I stayed away. Will you not hear them?"

She paused. "What are they?" she asked coolly.

He bit his lip. "I like you. I want us to be friends. But I cannot be more than friends because, as a warrior, I will be away too much and in too much danger. I wanted to tell you that, but I was afraid that I would hurt you." He stopped and looked at her, hoping that she would somehow understand this perplexing situation and help him to sort it out.

She studied him with narrowed eyes. "You thought that I would be crushed because you were not asking me to marry you?" For some reason that he did not understand, she was shaking in what looked like fury. She flung the little necklace at him, and, startled, he snatched it out of the air.

"You want to be friends," she said through her teeth, "but you would not treat Annael as you have treated me." She opened the door. "Go home, Legolas," she said and disappeared into the kitchen, shutting its door firmly behind her.

He left the cottage with his cheeks burning. It was true that he would not treat Annael as he had treated Miriwen. But then, his relationship with Annael was simple. He had absolutely no desire to kiss Annael. He strode off toward the palace, head down, already aching for Miriwen. "What had Alfirin and Adar said to her?" he wondered angrily.

***

Thranduil knocked lightly on Legolas’s door and then opened it. He was surprised when a quick glance around the tidy room showed him that Legolas was not there. The open door to the bathing chamber showed that it was empty too. Legolas had left the family sitting room an hour or so ago, saying that he was tired and intended to read for a while and then go to bed. Thranduil had not been surprised. A week of night guard duty had been hard on his youngest son. Adult Elves could function with a minimal amount of sleep for a time, but young Elves, whose bodies were still growing, felt its lack sorely.

Thranduil frowned. Where was Legolas? He had intended to speak to him about Miriwen, trying to probe gently as to what the gift of the necklace might mean. For surely the necklace he had seen the maiden wearing this morning must have come from his son. The oak leaf charm was too similar to the brooch Legolas had given him for it to be otherwise, and the symbol itself was closely associated with the royal house. Thranduil left Legolas’s chamber and returned to the sitting room where Ithilden and Alfirin sat nestled together in quiet conversation. Rejoicing in his healing arm and the prospect of a mission, however tame it looked to be, Eilian had gone out to see friends.

"Did Legolas not say he was going to his chamber?" he asked.

Ithilden and Alfirin looked up. "Yes, he did," said Ithilden. "Is he not there?"

"No, he is not," Thranduil frowned. Legolas had always liked being out of the palace at night and at one time had devoted much effort to evading Thranduil's efforts to keep him in. Could he have slipped out tonight? Thranduil supposed that his son was old enough to be out, but he wanted to know where Legolas had gone. And he would not tolerate being lied to.

At that moment, the door to the sitting room burst open and Legolas strode into the room. They all turned, startled by the bang of the door against the wall. He walked toward the bench where Alfirin leaned against Ithilden.

"What did you say to Miriwen?" he asked, angrily. "Did you tell her that I had behaved badly?"

Alfirin straightened up, and Ithilden said menacingly, "Watch your tone of voice, little brother."

"I did say that, Legolas," Alfirin said gently, "and I thought it too. Miriwen was very unhappy."

"You had no right to interfere." Legolas's face was white with fury. He spun around. "Or you either, Adar. I have the right to give her a gift whether you like it or not. But you should be happy because she has given it back." He flung something small on the floor at his father's feet. It was a silver chain with a small oak leaf charm on it. "It is bad enough that Eilian thinks he has to nursemaid me through a novice mission. I had come to terms with that. But this is my private life, and all I ask from the rest of you is that you leave me alone!"

Thranduil had been so startled by this outburst from the normally even-tempered Legolas that he had been rendered temporarily speechless. Now he found his voice. "That is enough!" he hissed. "Go to your chamber and stay there until you have regained the ability to behave with something like common politeness."

"Gladly!" Legolas snapped back, heedless of his father's growing anger. "I would be only too happy to be somewhere where my family is not constantly watching over my shoulder." He was out of the room before Thranduil could reply.

Ithilden rose and started toward the door. "No," said Thranduil. "I will deal with this."

"He cannot be allowed to speak that way to Alfirin," Ithilden said heatedly.

"No, he cannot," agreed Thranduil. "But I will deal with it." He crossed to the table near the fireplace and poured a cup of wine. Surprisingly enough, his hand was steady. He turned to the other two and held up the decanter, offering to pour some for them.

"Are you going to speak to him?" Ithilden demanded, still standing in the middle of the room and ignoring the offer.

"Yes, I am, but he needs a chance to cool down first," said Thranduil, sitting down with his wine. "And so do I."

***

Thranduil paused for a moment outside of Legolas's room, making sure that he was firmly in possession of his temper. He knocked perfunctorily and then opened the door and entered.

Legolas was sprawled in one of the chairs near the fireplace where he had evidently flung himself when he entered the room. On seeing his father, he rose slowly to his feet. The two regarded one another in silence for a moment.

“Are you sufficiently in command of yourself that you can apologize to Alfirin?” Thranduil asked.

“Yes,” said Legolas. At least he had the good grace to look ashamed of himself, Thranduil thought.

“Go and do so, and then come right back here,” Thranduil instructed him. Legolas left while Thranduil sat down and awaited his return. After a few moments, Legolas reentered the room. Thranduil regarded him for a moment and then indicated the other chair, giving permission for him to sit. He waited until his son had sunk unhappily into the chair.

“That was not like you, iôn-nín,” he said neutrally. And indeed, while Legolas could occasionally be impudent, Thranduil had never before seen him rage as he had tonight.

"I am sorry, Adar," Legolas said. "I lost my temper. I never should have spoken to you or to Alfirin the way I did." He rubbed his eyes tiredly and then leaned forward in the chair, with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped between them. He kept his eyes on his hands. His whole posture spoke of deep unhappiness.

Thranduil waited to see if anything else would follow, and when it did not, he began prodding gently. "Legolas, I truly do not wish to intrude in areas that you consider private. But because you are my son, much of what you would wish to be private will never be. I need to know if you have become entangled in something that is going to become a problem."

Legolas gave a pained exclamation, rose, and began to pace the room. "No, Adar, I am not 'entangled.'" He gave the word a vicious emphasis. "I am whatever the opposite of entangled is. She told me to go home." He stopped with his hand on the mantle, staring moodily into the fire and kicking the grate.

Thranduil drew a deep breath. He could not deny that he was relieved, and yet his heart twisted at the sight of his son's pain. "I am sorry," he said. And with an effort, he added, "Perhaps she will feel differently when she has had time to reflect." Legolas said nothing and did not look at his father.

Thranduil studied the face turned to him in profile. Now that he had Legolas in a private conversation, he wanted to ask about other worries too. He had not liked the bruise he had seen on his son's face a week or so ago, and he had liked the night guard duty even less, for it meant that Legolas had been in reasonably serious trouble. Moreover, the resulting exhaustion had surely contributed to tonight's scene. He did not want to interfere in the sphere of the novice masters, but for his own peace of mind, he needed to know at least that Legolas was happy in the training.

"How is the novice training going?" he asked, in what he hoped was a casual voice.

Legolas shrugged. "Well enough," he said.

"Have you run into any problems?" Thranduil persisted.

Legolas turned toward him. "Nothing that I cannot handle on my own," he said, with some emphasis.

Thranduil sighed. "Very well," he said. "But if you need to talk to me, iôn-nín, you know that I am here. In the meantime, I will leave this with you. You may have need of it again." He placed the oak leaf necklace carefully on the table next to his chair and rose to his feet. Legolas stood staring at it, blinking hard. Thranduil sighed again and squeezed his son's shoulder sympathetically before leaving the room.

As he was walking toward his own chamber, he suddenly remembered that Legolas had been visiting Miriwen when he had said that he was going to his chamber. He groaned. He would have to deal with the lie another day. There were only so many filial sins he could cope with at once.

He found himself wishing that his youngest son was still an elfling. His memory told him that elflings were noisy and made terrible messes. But one knew where they were at night, and when they broke their hearts over something that they could not have, an ada’s kiss was usually strong enough medicine to heal them.

***

Eilian moved along the corridor of the family quarters as quietly as he could, for it was late, and he did not wish to awaken anyone. But light spilling from the open sitting room door suggested that someone was still up. He paused in the doorway. Ithilden looked up from the paperwork in which he was evidently engaged at the small desk set against one wall. He was wearing a night robe, but judging from the pile of papers before him, he had been working for some time. He eyed his brother judiciously.

"Do your friends still know how to make merry?" he asked wryly. Some of Eilian's friends were not those that Thranduil would have chosen for him.

Eilian grinned at him. The wine had been good, and he had eventually slipped away for a pleasant walk beneath the stars with a maiden. He felt no need to confide any of this to Ithilden, however. Instead he settled into a chair and asked, "Why are you still awake?"

"As it happens, I wanted to talk to you," Ithliden responded, "but I was also disturbed enough about something that happened earlier that I had trouble sleeping, and Alfirin rather firmly suggested that I might want to get up and stop disturbing her." He smiled fondly, his thoughts plainly back in his own bed.

"What happened?" asked Eilian, smothering an amused grin.

"Legolas lost his temper and stormed at both Adar and Alfirin about their interfering in what he called his private life," Ithilden said.

Eilian blinked at him, his grin gone. "Legolas did that?" he asked in astonishment.

"Yes," Ithilden cocked his head at his brother. "He mentioned you too. He was talking about your going on the trip with the novices. I believe that the word he used was 'nursemaid.'"

Eilian snorted dismissively and then looked mildly alarmed as Ithilden continued to regard him steadily. "Surely you do not believe that I would disrupt a training mission by allowing my feelings as Legolas's brother to affect my actions as his superior officer?" he asked in exasperation. "I hope that I have more sense than that."

"I hope so too," said Ithilden calmly. "But answer me this: If Legolas were not going on this trip, would you still want to go?"

"Yes," Eilian responded promptly, "if only because I am bored by doing nothing useful. I need to get out of the palace before Adar and I start wearing on one another's nerves."

Ithilden nodded, satisfied. "Good," he said. "My understanding is that the novices will be doing exercises on the importance of command and on working as a unit. Your experience as a captain should be useful to them." He rose and stretched. "I think I will see if my lady wife is willing to have me back in our bed again," he said, with a small smile, and the two of them departed to their chambers for what remained of the night.

7. Novices and Masters

Two mornings later, the youngest group of novices assembled near the training fields, carrying packs with supplies for the five days that the training mission was expected to last. Legolas lay in the grass next to Annael, with his head on his pack and his eyes closed, brooding on his troubles as he had done so frequently of late.

He had spent the time since he had talked to Miriwen in a haze of misery broken only by the horseback archery training which he had enjoyed intensely. To make things worse, on the previous evening, Thranduil had spoken to him gravely about having lied and saying he was going to his chamber when he had really been going to visit Miriwen. His father had imposed no punishment, but he had made it clear that the offense was not to be repeated. "I expect better of you," he had said. It seemed to Legolas that lately everyone, including Legolas himself, expected better of him than he had managed to give.

He was looking forward to this trip, however. Despite his conflicts with Maldor and the constant irritation that Galelas caused, he was as confident of his ability with weapons as he was of anything in his life right now. Facing an opponent with a blade was much simpler than facing the tangle of his emotions.

Annael prodded him, and he opened his eyes and looked around to see Maldor, Thelion, and Eilian emerging from the masters' hut. Thelion adjusted a quiver strap over his cloak as he turned and said something to Eilian. They both laughed, and Legolas was suddenly struck by the extent to which Eilian looked different, as if he belonged to the world of the novice masters rather than the private world of Legolas’s family. Perhaps it was just the effect of having emerged from the hut in the company of Thelion and Maldor, but Eilian seemed to have been transformed into someone sterner and more distant.

The novices struggled to their feet, shouldering packs and gathering swords and bows, as the three warriors came to a halt in front of them. Maldor stepped forward, running his eyes over them, while the other two stood slightly behind him. Apparently satisfied by what he saw, Maldor began to speak. "This mission will use a series of exercises in armed and unarmed combat. We will be evaluating your use of weapons in simulated combat situations, but if all goes as planned, at least some of you will be disarmed in these simulations and will have to defend yourselves without your knives or bows." He paused and they stirred a little uneasily. "However," he went on, "the goal of this trip is only partly to improve your use of weapons. We will be working on organizing for battle, following orders, and performing as a unit. Without the ability to do these things, individual weapons skills are nearly useless. We are fortunate to have Eilian with us to contribute his considerable experience as a captain directing groups of warriors."

Legolas glanced at his brother, but Eilian simply stood in a relaxed posture and looked at Maldor as he listened to the unarmed combat master speak.

"After you return from this trip, Lómilad will conduct some formal classroom training on forming and following battle plans and on coordinating your actions in a fight," Maldor went on, "but the exercises we will be doing are designed to allow you to experience for yourselves the problems that warriors can face in working together. You should also be able to begin to discover some solutions to those problems. Then based on how you perform this week, Lómilad will help you to identify what you did right, what mistakes you made, and what actions to take to avoid those mistakes in the future."

Legolas was intrigued by the notion of learning through experience about the parts of being a warrior that went beyond any one person's weapons skills. But he was wary of Maldor as well, and this would be uncharted territory.

Maldor was speaking again. "Today we will walk roughly along the course of the Forest River until we reach our intended campsite. Eilian and I will lead, and Thelion will be rear guard, but we are not the only ones who should be on watch. You need to remember that this is warrior training and not a feast on the green. Keep alert for any sign of danger as we go. Watch the trees for spiders. Watch the ground for wolf prints. Listen for anything approaching that you cannot identify." He scanned the group again. "Conduct yourselves as warriors in training and all will go well." He did not say what would happen if they conducted themselves otherwise, and none of them wished to find out what that eventuality would lead to.

Maldor started toward the path that would take them northwest on the first league or two of their way. Eilian fell in behind him. Legolas hung back to let Galelas take the spot behind Eilian, with Isendir in his wake. Galelas liked being near the front, Legolas knew, and given his current desire to declare himself independent from his family, Legolas did not want to walk directly behind Eilian anyway. He, Annael, and Tonduil slid into line, with Thelion coming last.

The walk through the forest was the first chance that Legolas had had to be out among the trees in weeks. Since then, spring had spread through the woods. Leaves had erupted on the trees and bluebells had pushed their way through last year's dead leaves and now floated like a purple-blue cloud over the top of the newly green grass. The passing Elves did not disturb the morning quiet, and songbirds called to one another from overhead. Although he tried to remain alert to danger, as Maldor had instructed, Legolas felt himself relaxing as his body began to attune itself to the harmony around him.

They walked for the entire day, with brief stops for rest and for food at midday. Tonduil sat next to Legolas during the midday meal. “What will Eilian be like as a master, Legolas?” he asked curiously, looking across the small clearing where they had stopped. The three masters sat talking quietly together and eating the bread and fruit they had carried with them. Tonduil had seen very little of Eilian until now, because Eilian had been away in the south for much of the time that Alfirin had been married Ithilden.

“I do not know,” said Legolas. Eilian looked oddly foreign to him at the moment. “But I think that he will be more like Thelion than Maldor,” he added, knowing that Tonduil was ill at ease with the unarmed combat master. Tonduil looked grateful for the information.

In the late afternoon, they reached the site that the masters had evidently chosen for their camp. It was a clearing near a raised bank of the Forest River. A path led down to the water's edge but the site was elevated a good twenty feet above the river, even swollen as it was with spring rain. The rush of the water was clearly audible from the campsite, forming a soothing murmur that blended with the song of the trees.

“Legolas and Isendir gather the firewood tonight,” Maldor ordered. “Annael cooks, and Galelas and Tonduil clean up.” They began setting up camp. To Legolas, going among the trees to gather firewood was pure pleasure. He chatted idly with Isendir as they went about their assigned task, for over the last few weeks, Isendir had proven to be an amusing companion when he was apart from Galelas.

“Is Annael a good cook?” he was asking now.

Legolas grinned. “Not particularly,” he admitted.

Isendir made a face. “My naneth wanted to put seed cakes in my pack,” he said. “I should have let her.” Legolas laughed, although he also felt a pang. It was the kind of detail he always liked hearing from other young Elves for it gave him a glimpse of a life that he sometimes wished he lived. Yet it also left him jealous. It would never occur to the palace cooks to try to add favorite treats to Legolas’s pack.

When they returned to the campsite, they built a fire near where Annael was studying their various cooking supplies with a bemused look. “We are counting on you,” Legolas joked lightly. Annael rolled his eyes but set to work willingly enough.

They ate the boiled meat and vegetable he prepared happily enough, though, knowing that they would soon depend on what they could bring down with their own bows rather than what they had brought with them. In unspoken agreement, the masters and the novices had divided themselves into two small groups and ate on the opposite sides of the campfire.

Sitting with Thelion and Maldor, Eilian glanced across the fire at Legolas. The novices all seemed to be laughing at some ridiculous story that Tonduil was telling about himself as an elfling. “I could barely reach the latch,” he was saying, “and it turned out that when I tried to put the horse back in the stall, I could not refasten it. I thought that my adar would certainly realize that I had been riding the stallion, even though he had said that it was too dangerous. But, would you believe it? He concluded that the horse had learned to unfasten the stall gate itself.” The story went on, eventually leaving all four of the other novices convulsed in laughter.

The sight of Legolas laughing with his friends filled Eilian with relief. It fit so much better with his sense of his even-tempered, light-hearted younger brother than did the unhappy, irritable figure who had haunted the palace in the last weeks. On the day before they had left on this trip, he had tried to ask Legolas about what had provoked his anger at Alfirin and Thranduil, but Legolas had rejected his tentative advances, and he had decided to leave well enough alone.

He became aware that Thelion and Maldor too were quietly listening to Tonduil’s story. When they had finished their meal, Galelas and Tonduil began to gather the dirty dishes to take down to the river and wash. Tonduil approached the group of masters.

“You are exceptionally good with horses, Tonduil,” Thelion commented when he approached. “Did you never consider becoming a horsemaster?”

Tonduil paused uncertainly. He liked Thelion; all the novices did. And it was obvious that he feared that some criticism of his choice to be a warrior lay hidden in the blade master’s question. “Yes, I did,” he admitted. “But it seemed much nobler to be a warrior.”

Thelion smiled at him. “Nobler?” he said. “I have always thought that there was nothing nobler than working with horses. They are such fascinating beasts.” Tonduil brightened and looked as if he would like to pursue the subject, but Galelas called to him from the top of the path leading down to the river, and he gathered up the last of the dishes and left to go with Galelas to wash them.

“So you are giving up on him?” murmured Maldor softly.

Thelion glanced at him. “No,” he said, “not giving up, only reminding him that he has a choice. An honorable choice,” he stressed.

Maldor snorted. “He is stronger than he realizes,” he said, still keeping his voice low. “He can become an effective warrior.”

“An effective one, I do not doubt,” said Thelion. “But I do not think that he will ever be a happy one. And he could be a far more than effective horsemaster.” Maldor shrugged and let the matter drop.

Eilian listened in silence, intrigued by this side of novice training. When he himself had been a novice, he would have sworn that the masters never had a thought beyond correcting his tendency to push his release when he fired a bow.

Galelas and Tonduil returned from the river, and Maldor rose to begin issuing orders for the night. All of the novices had been on numerous camping trips as younglings, and they had also all been on previous novice training trips. Thus like all Mirkwood Elves their age, they already knew how to guard a campsite at night. Maldor set four two-hour watches, matching a master with a novice for most of them, with Annael and Isendir standing the first watch, the easiest one to stay alert for. Eilian was interested to see that despite his disagreement with Thelion over Tonduil, Maldor matched the two of them and gave them the last watch, another easy one because it did not require waking in the middle of the night and then trying to return to sleep. Eilian was willing to wager that the interrupted conversation about horses would be picked up in the pre-dawn hours.

Eilian would stand the second watch with Galelas, and Maldor himself would stand the third watch with Legolas. It was clear to Eilian that his brother was not at all happy with that particular arrangement. He hoped it was not equally clear to Maldor.

Along with most of the others, Eilian rolled himself up in his blanket and lay down to sleep while he could. He felt as if he had barely dropped off when Annael gently touched his shoulder to waken him. Yawning, he got to his feet, scratching absently at his left arm and then realizing that the leather brace was between his fingernails and the itch that was annoying him. He stretched the arm out and wondered very briefly if he would ever have full use of it again. Not “if,” he told himself firmly, “when.”

He looked around, locating Galelas, and then moved toward him. “Let us make a circuit of the area and make sure that it is secure,” he said. “You take that side of the camp and I will take this side.” The two of them moved off into the trees and circled the campsite, with neither sensing any danger. Upon returning, Eilian sat down against a large oak tree that was a small distance from where the others were sleeping, and Galelas joined him.

“I saw you in the horseback archery drill the other day,” Eilian said, trying to start a conversation that would make the time go faster and help them both stay alert. He did not know Galelas at all and had never heard Legolas speak of him. “You shoot well,” Eilian said.

Galelas looked cautiously pleased at the compliment. “I am usually the best archer in my training group,” he said. He looked sidelong at Eilian as if suddenly remembering to whom he was speaking. “Although sometimes Legolas is better than I am,” he admitted grudgingly.

Eilian was willing to wager that it was more than "sometimes," but he only laughed. “Sometimes Legolas is better than I am too,” he said. Galelas gaped at him, apparently startled by the cheerful admission.

“Does that not bother you?” he blurted.

Eilian shrugged. “Legolas has a gift with the bow,” he said. “We all have our strengths and our weaknesses.” He refrained from talking about the pride he took in his little brother’s prowess, remembering his promise to Legolas not to behave like a fond brother.

Galelas may have read Eilian’s tone anyway, however. He leaned back against the tree and rather grimly said, “My brother would not be pleased if he thought that I could outshoot him.”

Eilian thought that Galelas was probably right. The Tinár he knew would not have been pleased with the idea that anyone could outshoot him, much less a younger brother. But since the idea would never have occurred to Tinár, Eilian thought in private amusement, the question never arose.

“We should make another round,” he said, rising to his feet. “Let us trade sides this time.” And they set off to check the security of the campsite once more.

***

Legolas reentered the campsite, having completed his half of the circle around it to check its security. He had been slower than he might have been in other circumstances because he was apprehensive about passing the watch in Maldor's company. What would they talk about? Or perhaps they would not talk. Perhaps Maldor would sit silent for the whole two hours. On the whole, Legolas thought that he would prefer that.

He found Maldor already back in camp, sitting on a large, flat rock about halfway between the campfire and the riverbank. Legolas hesitated briefly and then went to join him. To do otherwise would be incredibly rude. He sat down next to the master, whose expression was ever so slightly amused. Surely not, Legolas thought. Maldor was never amused at anything that Legolas could see.

"I could sense no danger," he reported, and Maldor nodded. They sat quietly for a while, and Legolas began to relax. He leaned back on his elbows and looked at the stars in dense array overhead. He loved the night, he thought. Even the song of the trees was sweeter at night.

Maldor's voice startled him. "You are fortunate in your friends, Legolas," he said.

Legolas froze. How was he to reply to that? He sat up. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"I mean that Annael and Tonduil are both loyal to you. They would choose you as this group's leader, if they could. That speaks well of you, for neither one of them is a fool." Maldor turned to look at him, his face unreadable. Legolas still had no idea what Maldor was talking about.

"I do not want to be this group's leader," he said.

"Do you not?" Maldor's question was noncommittal, but Legolas felt that there was some meaning hidden in it that he could not make out.

He hesitated, trying to find words that would explain what he meant. "I am learning the same skills that everyone else is," he finally said. "I do not believe that I am able to choose other people's actions for them yet." It was as honest an answer as he could give.

Maldor nodded. "A good answer," he said, "although Annael and Tonduil would still choose you to follow." He shrugged. "We should make another round," he said, and they both rose.

Legolas was completely at sea as to what Maldor had been trying to tell him. As he moved off to make his half circle of the campsite, he thought that whatever dangers might lurk in the woods were far easier to face than the unarmed combat master was.

***

Legolas felt as if he had just fallen back asleep after his watch when Tonduil was shaking his shoulder to awaken him again. "Come on," he said. "You and I are supposed to fix morning meal, and if we want to bathe, we have to do it now." Reluctantly, Legolas emerged from his cocoon of blanket. Thelion was moving around the camp, waking the other novices and meting out the chores. Legolas shook himself more fully awake, found the soap in his pack, and started toward the river with Tonduil.

"The river is full and the current is fast," Thelion called as they passed. "It would be best not to swim." The two of them nodded and went on their way.

By the time they returned to camp, Galelas had built up the fire, and they set about fixing the porridge with which they would break their night's fast. They all ate quickly, and then Annael and Isendir took the dirty dishes to the river, while the other novices straightened up the campsite. The masters were conferring, seated on the rock where Legolas and Maldor had sat during their watch. Finally, Maldor called the novices to order.

"Today," he began, "we will perform the first in a series of exercises designed to show the importance of a solid command structure, of following orders, and of fighting together."

Eilian listed carefully as Maldor explained to the novices what would be required of them today. In the privacy of the masters' hut the day before, he had already heard Maldor explain the purpose of these exercises once, and despite his doubts about the unarmed combat master, Eilian was interested. The point of the exercises was to provide the novices with experiences upon which they could reflect so as to discover the lessons they taught on their own. Along with the other experienced warriors who served under him, Eilian had frequently provided instruction and training to those newly posted to the southern patrol. But he had never before taught when there was the luxury of time for the students to reflect and absorb the lesson themselves.

"Your task today is to defend yourselves against a simulated Orc attack," Maldor was telling the novices. "We masters will be the Orcs." There was a quickly quashed ripple of amusement among the novices.

"Bring your bows; it would be foolish to be without them in these woods. But you may not use them. We will all use training swords as our only weapons. By rights, we masters should be carrying blunted Orc swords, but you have not yet learned the best ways to battle those curved scimitars, so we will use Elven ones. We will make enough noise to be Orcs, though, and we will fight like them." He scanned the group. "Because we are using only swords, not bows, you must stay on the ground, not take to the trees, although that would often be the best course in a battle with Orcs."

Under Maldor's direction, the novices, like Thelion and Maldor, stored their bows on their backs. Eilian, of course, was still unable to use one and would have to rely on the marksmanship of the others should danger arise. Then they all chose training swords from the pile that Thelion had laid out.

They reassembled and Maldor gave them their last instructions. He pointed out a very tall oak that was visible through the woods. "Walk toward that tall oak," he told them. "Be alert for us. You know that we will be attacking. That should give you an advantage." He signaled to Thelion and Eilian, and they disappeared into the trees. The novices glanced at one another, and then set off in the direction of the tall oak tree.

8. Battles

The five novices slipped warily through the woods, every sense on the alert to detect the promised attack. Galelas, as usual, was in the lead. He was clearly tense. "There are five of us and only three of them," he said nervously. He glanced over his shoulder at Legolas, "And Eilian has the use of only one arm. We should be able to take them or at least make a good showing."

Just as these words had left his mouth, they heard something moving noisily through the woods off to their right. They turned to face the noise, swords drawn, and within seconds the three masters had erupted from between the trees and were rushing toward them. Galelas charged forward to encounter them and was "killed" almost instantly, as Thelion and Maldor passed on either side of him, leaving him exposed to Thelion's blade when he turned to defend himself against Maldor.

The other four novices took up defensive stances. Legolas whirled and stood back to back with Annael, his sword at the ready. The novices had not yet received much training in battle strategy, but Legolas had heard warriors talk about the usefulness of having another warrior at their back, so that neither of them could be taken by surprise.

The masters had now surrounded them. Thelion had disarmed and presumably "killed" Tonduil and was battling with Isendir, while Maldor was bearing down on Annael. Legolas found himself face to face with Eilian, sword raised and looking unexpectedly ferocious. For the briefest of moments, Legolas hesitated. What if he accidentally struck his brother's injured arm? Eilian, on the other hand, did not hesitate for a second. He thrust in under Legolas's guard and touched the tip of his sword to his younger brother's ribs. Then he shouldered him roughly aside and touched Annael's back too. Before either of them had time to react, he had whirled away looking for further combat. But the battle was over. All of the novices were "dead." Eilian lowered his sword and stood still for a moment, panting, and to Legolas's disgust, looking unbearably pleased with himself.

Eilian was indeed exhilarated. He had been going slowly mad with boredom under his enforced idleness at the palace, and he had enjoyed even this token battle mightily. He glanced around the battle scene. He had been surprised at the chaos into which the novices had immediately fallen. It had been a long time, he thought, since he had seen inexperienced warriors at work. His respect for the novice masters went up. Their teaching was what made the difference between the raw recruits he saw before him and the capable young warriors who came to him for service in the southern patrol.

Maldor was scowling at the novices. "That was entirely too easy," he said briskly. "Let us analyze where you went wrong." He paused and waited but no one offered any insights. "What mistakes did you make?" he prodded.

"Galelas should not have charged at you alone," said Tonduil, surprising everyone by his boldness. "He ended up all by himself among the three of you." Eilian noted that Galelas was now glaring at Tonduil. Galelas apparently took criticism not much better than his brother, Tinár, did. That could be a problem, he thought. He glanced at Legolas, whose face was impassive. Eilian wondered what he thought about his fellow novices. Apart from Annael, with whom Legolas had been friends since they were both elflings, Eilian was not sure.

"That is correct," agreed Maldor. "A charge like that would have to be coordinated with others and would be aimed at breaking through enemy lines. What else?"

Legolas sighed and spoke up. "I hesitated to strike at Eilian," he said. "I was afraid of hurting his arm," he added, defensively.

Eilian was reminded of Maldor's claim that Legolas needed to learn to think less personally if he were ever going to be a good captain. He was a bit annoyed that the unarmed combat master might prove right on that score.

Maldor frowned at Legolas. "Eilian is perfectly capable of taking care of himself," he said "as he clearly showed. And by hesitating, you allowed him not only to defeat you but to 'kill' Annael as well. You were supposed to be watching his back." He scanned the dejected looking novices. "What else?" he asked.

"We allowed the fight to deteriorate into confusion, rather than coordinating our actions," said Annael.

"Yes, that sums things up rather well," agreed Maldor. "Of course, it is hard to coordinate a fight without a captain. Evidently you did not choose one for yourselves during the time we gave you before we attacked. Tomorrow, we will rectify that problem." Eilian could see Galelas attending closely to Maldor's last statement and then sending a malevolent glance at Legolas. He frowned. If one of his own warriors had directed such a glance at another, he would have assumed that some sort of personal battle was going on that would hurt the pursuit of the real battle. He could see no reason to assume otherwise here.

"We will return to camp now," Maldor was saying. "You probably saw Legolas and Annael fighting back to back. That is an excellent strategy in this kind of close combat, and it is the technique that Thelion is going to be practicing with you this afternoon." He started off toward their camp site, and the others followed.

Eilian took the opportunity to catch at Legolas's arm and hold him until the others drew ahead. "Is there something going on between you and Galelas?" he asked.

Legolas jerked his arm out of his brother's grasp. "I thought that you were not going to play the big brother," he frowned.

"I am asking not as your brother, but as one of your masters," Eilian said, rather sharply. "If you and he are engaged in a private quarrel, you could do real damage to the group."

"I think you will find that Maldor already knows about whatever is going on between me and Galelas," said Legolas. "Although actually, I am not sure exactly what that might be."

Eilian blinked at that rather confusing answer. "What is Maldor doing about it?" he asked.

"Nothing, so far as I can see," Legolas answered.

"And what are you doing?"

"Nothing," said Legolas in exasperation. "There is nothing that I can do." And he walked off quickly, leaving Eilian looking after him with narrowed eyes.

They spent the afternoon in camp, with Thelion directing the novices in fighting back to back as Eilian and Maldor attacked them. Thelion paired them in all possible combinations, showing them what changes were made necessary by differences in size or fighting style. By the end of the practice session, they were all tired, but the novices seemed to have grasped the technique well.

Eilian played his role in the training attentively enough, circling the various pairs of novices and trying to draw them away from one another. But he kept his eye on the interaction between Galelas and Legolas, and by the end of the afternoon, he was satisfied that he had judged correctly: Galelas was actively hostile to Legolas, while Legolas wanted nothing to do with Galelas. When they had been required to work as a pair, the result had been singularly ineffective, despite the fact that they were the two most competent swordsmen in the group. They had seemingly been unable to sense and react to one another's movements and had constantly left each other's backs exposed.

When Maldor finally called a halt to the training, he sent the novices about their evening chores and then withdrew to sit on the flat rock where the masters had conferred that morning. Thelion and Eilian joined him. Eilian spoke without preamble: "What is the matter between Legolas and Galelas?" he asked immediately.

Maldor grimaced. "From what I have observed and overheard," he said, "I would say that Galelas is jealous of Legolas's weapons skills and role as the king's son. He has a great desire to be first. He works very hard to be the best, and I think that he resents Legolas's gifts."

Eilian reflected for a moment, thinking both of his conversation with Galelas during the previous night and his own experience with Galelas's arrogant brother, Tinár, who, like Legolas, was a gifted warrior. Maldor's analysis of Galelas was only too plausible, he thought. "And what of Legolas?" Eilian pursued. "What is his role in this?"

It was Thelion who answered this time. "Legolas has been trying to ignore him but has been unable to keep from being drawn into quarrels," he said.

"What have you done about it?" Eilian demanded.

"Punished them both," Maldor said promptly.

Eilian frowned. "You will pardon me if I say that that remedy does not seem to have been very effective," he said dryly.

Thelion spoke up before a scowling Maldor could reply. "We are aware of that, Eilian. Among other things, the exercises on this trip are meant to push the two of them into facing the problems that their behavior causes."

"I would say that Legolas is already aware of those problems," said Eilian, "but he does not know what to do about them."

"He has to stop ignoring the situation and confront it," Maldor insisted. "We masters can speak all the wise words in the world, but they will make no difference. Legolas is going to be a captain. He needs to start thinking now about how to draw Galelas into cooperating with the group so that his considerable strengths can be used. Legolas's own personal feelings should not enter into it."

“You are asking a great deal of him," Eilian protested.

"Yes, we are," said Thelion simply. "He will need help. You are the experienced captain here, Eilian. When you have the opportunity, see if you can prompt him into approaching Galelas rather than ignoring him."

Eilian thought for a moment. "Will you put us on watch together tonight?" he asked Maldor.

"Not tonight," Maldor shook his head. "But tomorrow night I will. The two novices who stood the middle watches last night get the first and last ones tonight so that they can sleep a bit better." He smiled grimly. "And tomorrow's exercise should provide more matter for conversation anyway."

Eilian grimaced. He did not like what they were going to force the novices to do in the morning.

While they had been speaking, Galelas had been cooking the evening meal, which was now ready. The masters joined the novices around the fire, and the meal was eaten with a minimum of conversation, for they were all tired. When they had all eaten and Legolas and Annael had washed up afterwards, they set the watches and went early to sleep. Legolas was grateful that he drew the first watch along with Tonduil. He would appreciate the unbroken rest that came afterwards, and he was deeply thankful that he did not have to spend two hours on watch with Maldor again.

They woke to dark skies and the threat of rain. Like most Wood-elves, Legolas did not mind rain as a rule, but he knew that the noise of rain might make it harder to detect an oncoming attack, and wet leaves would be slippery underfoot. As he set about gathering wood for the morning fire, he hoped that the weather would hold off until they were done with the day's exercise.

When they had completed the morning's chores, Maldor called them together. Thelion and Eilian drew near too. "As I told you yesterday," Maldor began, "today we are going to see to it that you have a captain who will lead you in devising a battle strategy and putting it into action." He paused and looked at them. Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw that Galelas was drawing himself up to his full height, making himself as visible as possible. He obviously hoped that Maldor would name him as the group's leader. Then, to Legolas's dismay, Maldor went on, "You may have ten minutes to choose your own captain."

They stared at him for a moment and then turned to look at one another uncertainly. After a brief pause, Tonduil spoke up. "I think that it should be Legolas," he said, startling them with his daring for the second time in as many days.

Legolas flinched slightly. He recalled Maldor's vague comments on the previous night about his leading the group. This was going to cause more problems, he thought resignedly.

Galelas snorted at Tonduil's suggestion. "Why Legolas?" he asked and then glanced quickly at the three masters, who were listening to their debate with impassive faces. Legolas, too, looked at the masters. Even Eilian's face was impossible for him to read. His brother simply gazed back at him imperturbably, and Legolas despaired of help from that direction. Not that he wanted Eilian to help him on this mission, he amended hastily.

"Legolas is good with weapons, and he does not lose his head," Tonduil was saying. His chin was set stubbornly, but he seemed unable to meet Galelas's gaze directly.

"Galelas is willing to behave boldly in defending against attackers," Isendir put in.

"His boldness did not seem to help him in yesterday's battle," said Annael mildly.

The novices had unconsciously moved into two groups, with Legolas, Annael, and Tonduil on one side, and Galelas and Isendir on the other. Galelas now glared at the three who stood across from him. "Very well," he said. "I can see how this is going to go. If you insist on naming Legolas captain, then I cannot stop you." There was a second's silence.

"Good," said Maldor briskly, stepping in to close the discussion. "Legolas it is. Now you need to devise a strategy to withstand our attack. Take some time to do so. We will wait for you to tell us when you are ready." With that, he, Thelion, and Eilian withdrew to sit on the large flat rock that they had been using as their meeting place.

The novices confronted one another for a moment in silence. "Are you pleased?" Galelas finally hissed at Legolas. "Did you get what you wanted?"

"Galelas, this is not helpful," Legolas said in exasperation. "We need to make some plans." Galelas compressed his mouth in a thin line and said nothing further, but he was obviously not happy.

Legolas drew a deep breath. "We should plan to use what we learned yesterday," he said tentatively, "and protect one another's backs. Perhaps that means we should stick together as a group and not let the masters split us up." He looked around to see if his ideas seemed reasonable to the rest of them. Galelas was looking off into the distance as if he could not even hear Legolas, but the others seemed willing to try his plan.

"Because we are an odd number, someone is always going to be without a partner," Legolas went on. "That person can come up behind an attacker or come to the aid of any of us who needs it. Isendir, you are quick. Let us plan on your taking that role if you can."

Isendir nodded, but Galelas protested immediately. "I will do that," he said.

Legolas shook his head. "Isendir is more agile," he said. For a moment, he and Galelas stared at one another.

Then Galelas laughed shortly. "Have it your way," he said bitterly. "Are we finished?"

Legolas looked around at the group. No one seemed to have anything to add. He nodded. "Yes," he said. "I think we are." He turned and walked toward where the masters sat. "I believe that we are ready," he told them.

Maldor nodded. "Good," he said. "Today, your course lies more southerly." He pointed toward a small hill in the distance. "Use that large rock on the top of the rise as your heading," he instructed. Then, without another word, he and the other two masters rose and slipped off into the woods.

After a moment, the novices too set off, with Legolas in the lead and Galelas bringing up the rear. It seemed to Legolas that they walked farther than they had the previous day. His senses were strained for any indication of the masters' approach, and he was annoyed by the fact that he could hear Galelas murmuring discontentedly to Isendir for much of the time that they were walking. Finally, he turned.

"Galelas," he snapped, "stop complaining and start watching for an attack."

Galelas was drawing breath to retort when noise of the attack came from the woods, and a moment later, the masters were upon them.

The five of them immediately drew together in a group, with Legolas and Tonduil in one pair and Galelas and Annael in another. Legolas found himself struggling with Thelion, who was using his blade in frenzied Orc attack, rather than with his customary finesse. He was elated when Isendir leapt at Thelion from behind and touched his sword tip to the master's ribs. Thelion immediately lowered his sword and stepped to one side.

Legolas glanced around to see how the others were doing and was dismayed to find that Annael was apparently "dead," having been "killed" by Eilian when Galelas allowed himself to be drawn away by Maldor. The unarmed combat master had just roughly disarmed Galelas and dispatched him with an Orc's vicious stab. In the meantime, Eilian had turned and shoved under Isendir's defense. Legolas rushed to help, but Eilian touched Isendir with his sword just as Legolas felt the tip of Maldor's sword tap his own back. Tonduil was no match for Eilian and Maldor together and soon joined his companions in simulated death and real defeat.

They had done better, but they had not done well enough. Legolas wiped the sweat wearily from his forehead with the heel of his hand and waited for the inevitable criticism from Maldor. It was not long in coming.

"Galelas," snapped Maldor, "did you pay no attention at all to the training yesterday? You left Annael's back exposed. Somehow I doubt that that was part of your battle plan."

Galelas lowered his head and muttered something inaudible.

"What was that?" asked Maldor sharply.

"We were much too passive," Galelas said more loudly.

"The position the group took was a defensive one," Maldor agreed, "and that might not have been the wisest thing to do, but as I interpret everyone's actions, your plan was to stay together, protecting one another and not allowing yourselves to be picked off one by one. That plan could have worked, but only if everyone followed it. You did not. In training, this is only a mistake. But as a warrior, you would be guilty of failing to follow orders." He glared at Galelas, who lowered his eyes again.

He looked around at the rest of them. "You did better," he said. "You see the advantage of coordinated action and the inadequacy of weapons skill alone."

From Maldor, this was high praise, and Legolas actually felt his spirits lift a little. "We will return to camp for midday meal," Maldor said. "Then this afternoon, I plan to introduce you to some unarmed combat techniques to use against an armed Orc who has just knocked your sword from your hand." Legolas blew out his breath in a weary sigh. Galelas was going to be a difficult opponent in unarmed combat for whoever was unlucky enough to draw him. While he did not wish this fate on any of his companions, he fervently hoped that he was not the unfortunate one to do so.

The walk back to camp was a long one, and on the way, rain started to fall. It was a light sprinkle at first, but it quickly turned into a torrent. By the time they reached camp, they were all soaked. There was no question of lighting a fire to cook with, so they made do with lembas, eaten under what shelter the surrounding trees would give them as they perched in the branches.

As Legolas sat leaning against the beech tree he had climbed, Maldor slipped down from his own branch. Next to him, Annael groaned. "Do you suppose that he means for us to drill in the rain?" he asked Legolas in an undertone.

As if he had heard him, Maldor turned and looked at them. "Come," he said. "This will be a good opportunity to learn about unarmed combat in wet conditions."

Legolas looked at Annael. "Yes," he said. "I think that he does." The two of them descended to the ground and, along with their three companions, moved into the cleared area of the campsite.

The afternoon's drill was long and thorough. The rain stopped halfway through it, but the ground was muddy and slippery. Galelas was as surly as Legolas had anticipated, but it was Tonduil who wound up wrestling with him. Legolas cringed as Galelas shoved the other's face into the mud. Moreover, defeating Tonduil did not seem to appease Galelas. Having Legolas chosen as the group's leader and then being singled out for a scolding by Maldor had apparently combined to leave him in a towering temper.

By the time that Maldor was satisfied with their progress, they were all filthy as well as tired. The unarmed combat master surveyed them. "Go and bathe before you begin the preparations for the evening meal," he said and sent them on their way to the river.

With the other novices, Legolas crouched fully clothed in the shallow water at the edge of the river and dunked his head to get the mud out of his hair. This was as good a way to wash his clothes as any, he thought. The day's rain had left the river flowing even wider and more swiftly than it had been, and it would not do to venture out into the current. Finally satisfied, he waded back to the shore and dried his head on the towel he had brought with him to the river's edge. He would change into dry clothes in the campsite. It was his turn to cook, so he needed to get back to the camp soon and see what supplies they had.

"I am going back now," he called to Annael, who was still splashing around with all the others. Annael waved to him, and he started up the trail to the campsite.

He had just reached the point where the trail topped the riverbank, when someone grabbed his arm from behind and spun him around, and he found himself facing a still angry Galelas. Galelas glanced toward where the masters were facing the other way halfway to the campsite on the flat rock and then dragged Legolas closer to the edge of the bank so that they would be less likely to be overheard. He took one last look at the masters and then turned to face Legolas.

"You do realize that our defeat today was your fault, do you not?" he hissed. "You were so eager to be in charge, and then all that you could come up with was a plan that left us completely on the defensive."

Legolas felt himself growing heated. "I did not hear you proposing any alternative," he snapped. "And you did not even follow the plan we had. You left Annael wide open to Eilian's attack."

Galelas released his arm and took a step backwards. "Ah, yes," he snorted. "Big brother Eilian. I noticed that he did not attack you."

"He attacked me yesterday with a great deal of relish," Legolas protested. As he was speaking, he suddenly became aware that the sodden ground was shifting under his feet. Behind Galelas, he could see a chunk of the riverbank breaking free and beginning to slide down the twenty foot drop to the rushing water.

"Watch out!" he cried and grabbing Galelas's wrist, flung him back toward safer territory. As he yanked on the heavier Galelas's arm, however, his own feet slid on the slippery grass. He let go of Galelas and grabbed wildly at a sapling that was teetering on the edge of the crumbling bank, trying to regain his footing. He was too far gone, however, and his momentum carried him on. With a cry, he slipped over the edge of the bank and disappeared.

9. Helping Hands

Eilian had turned at the sound of Legolas's angry voice and seen Galelas let go of his brother's arm and respond with equal heat. A second later, Thelion and Maldor, too, had turned, for the quarreling novices had let their voices rise without realizing it.

"Drat those two!" Maldor had exclaimed and risen to go toward them. Eilian had anticipated his move, however, and was already striding toward the riverbank. He was as irritated with the pair as Maldor was, he thought grimly, and he had every intention of administering the most severe tongue-lashing that he could muster. He had learned the art from the notoriously sharp-tongued Ithilden who had probably learned it from Thranduil. Seasoned warriors in the southern patrol had flinched under its sting, so he had reason to expect that it would make an impression on these two.

Thus, Maldor and Eilian were already in motion toward the novices when the riverbank began to crumble.

Eilian heard Legolas cry out and saw him grab Galelas's arm and fling him to safety. And then he saw Legolas slip and slide with unbearable slowness toward the edge, clutching at the small tree. With a cry of his own, he seemed to himself to leap across the distance between them, landing on his belly and looking over the edge, where, unbelievably, Legolas still clung to the sapling with only his right hand.

Eilian grabbed at his brother's wrist with his own right hand just as the little tree tore loose from the mud and tumbled twenty feet into the storm-swollen river below. He tightened his grip on his brother's mud-slickened wrist, and Legolas turned a terrified face toward him. Eilian brought his left hand around and gripped Legolas's upper arm, trying to drag him back to safety. Under his brother's weight, he was distantly aware of something tearing in his injured arm.

Suddenly Maldor was lying beside him, slithering far forward to grab at Legolas's other arm. He turned his head back to where Galelas stood frozen in horror. "Hold on to my legs!" he urged. Galelas scrambled to grasp Maldor's legs and keep him from sliding over the bank after Legolas. Maldor hung much farther out over the edge than caution would have allowed and caught hold of the left forearm that Legolas was reaching toward him.

With Maldor beside him mirroring his movements, Eilian began to inch his way back away from the edge, drawing Legolas toward the safety that was so tantalizingly close. He could see his brother trying to grab at the bank but kept a firm grip on Legolas's arm and dragged his upper body over the edge. Suddenly, Legolas had managed to swing one leg onto the bank and was scrambling forward on his own. He collapsed in a panting heap, and Eilian wrapped his arms protectively around the young shoulders, all but weeping in his relief.

"Everyone move further back from the edge," Maldor was commanding. "Another piece of the bank could collapse at any time. Eilian! Move back!" He was dragging Legolas back, and Eilian slid along beside him, heedless of the mud that by this time had worked its way into every crease and opening in his face, hands, and clothing. Under his touch, Legolas was trembling and drawing great, heaving breaths.

"It is all right," Eilian murmured. "You are safe." He tried to wipe some of the mud from his brother's face, but his own hand was so filthy that he only added another smear to what was already there. He did not care. He needed to touch Legolas to reassure himself that the brat was all right, that he really had not fallen into the river. He wiped his little brother's face again.

Closely followed by Tonduil and Isendir, Annael skidded to a stop near his friend. The three of them had witnessed the horrifying scene from below and then rushed up the path from the river. Worried about the stability of the bank, Thelion was trying to keep them from crowding too near. To Eilian's relief, Maldor stood and began to take charge of the situation. Even covered in mud, he was a formidable figure, Eilian thought.

"He is all right," Maldor declared. "He is only shaken. Give him a few minutes, and he will be himself." He looked at the novices. "It was Legolas's turn to cook. One of you will need to do it."

"I will," said Tonduil immediately.

"Good," said Maldor, who was evidently intent on restoring normalcy. "The rest of you go and take care of whatever chores remain. You know what needs to be done by now." Shepherded by Thelion, they began to move toward the campsite, still casting looks back at the scene on the riverbank

"Not you, Galelas," Maldor added. "You stay here." Galelas halted and stood uncertainly.

With a last deep breath, Legolas pulled himself into a sitting position and looked at Eilian. "Thank you," he said. With the resilience of youth, he seemed to have regained most of his composure and stopped shaking.

Eilian smiled faintly at him. "How could I ever have explained it to Adar if I had let you fall?" he asked lightly. He had an appalling vision of having to do just that. Thranduil, Ithilden, and he could all protest as vigorously as they liked that they no longer saw Legolas as the family's baby, but Eilian knew that they all still did and were more protective of him than Legolas even suspected.

Suddenly, Legolas looked down at Eilian's arm, an expression of horror growing on his face. Eilian realized that he was rubbing at the leather brace on his left arm and that the arm underneath had begun to ache quite abominably.

"Your arm!" Legolas cried. "Did you injure it again?"

Drawn by Legolas's cry, Maldor looked at Eilian, who was still seated on the ground next to Legolas. "Did you re-injure it?" he asked.

Eilian's experience as a captain had taught him that injuries needed to be honestly assessed and dealt with. If, out of pride, a warrior denied that an injury existed, he led his companions to rely on him when he might not be able to support them, and he courted greater injury in the long run. He took a moment now to consider how his arm felt. "I believe that I may have torn a muscle," he admitted, "or perhaps pulled it from the bone. The bone itself is uninjured, though. My arm aches and will probably continue to do so for a while, but I do not think that the damage is serious."

Legolas gave an inarticulate cry of distress, guilt writ large on his face. "I do not believe that it is serious," Eilian repeated to him with emphasis. "It healed before and it will heal again. I can resume wearing a sling for a few days if I need to."

Maldor drew himself erect. "Stand up, Legolas," he ordered. Eilian groaned to himself. It was plain to him that Maldor intended to reprimand Galelas and Legolas immediately. Ah, well, he thought. It would have had to come some time. But could it not have waited until morning?

As Legolas climbed slowly to his feet, it was obvious that he too knew what was coming. Maldor looked from him to Galelas, standing a few feet away. "I have warned the two of you about quarreling before," he began. "Your constant state of enmity has already hurt the group's performance on this trip, and now you see the kind of real harm that can be done when you let your anger toward one another blunt your alertness to the dangers around you."

Legolas's face was white. He had been frightened by his near fall and was worried about having caused further injury to Eilian's arm. He was probably only too ready to accept the charges that Maldor was making, Eilian thought, and perhaps that was not an entirely bad state of affairs. Even Galelas looked shaken by Legolas's near escape. Eilian climbed to his own feet to watch the unfolding scene.

“When we reach home, you will both be on night guard duty for two weeks," Maldor was saying. Eilian grimaced, but neither novice reacted beyond nodding in resigned acceptance. "Together,” Maldor added emphatically. Now they both looked dismayed. Legolas actually rolled his eyes, a move that Eilian judged to be unwise. “Do you have some comment to make, Legolas?" Maldor asked. "If you like, I can always require that you also carry a heavy pack."

Eilian saw Legolas stiffen at that. "No," he muttered. "I have nothing to say."

Eilian sighed. He had seen how the previous night duty weighed on Legolas. The sentence that Maldor was imposing would try him further, but Eilian had no intention of interfering. Difficult as it was to stay out of the affair, he would not undercut Maldor in front of the novices. Moreover, these two certainly deserved some punishment for their breathtaking carelessness if nothing else. The question was one of degree, and if Eilian thought that the penalty was severe, he was not the one who was responsible for these young warriors. On this mission, Maldor was.

"I never want to have to discipline either one of you for quarreling again," Maldor was saying. "I assure you that you will not like it if I do." He paused and scanned them all. Galelas had kept his feet and was fairly clean, but Legolas, Eilian, and Maldor himself were all filthy with mud. "Go and help with meal preparations, Galelas," Maldor ordered. "The rest of us will get cleaned up."

***

With the nonchalance of youth, Legolas waded into the water fully clothed, immersed himself, and then waded back out again, heading for the campsite to change into dry clothes. Eilian dropped his own pack on the shore and watched his brother out of the corner of his eye. Legolas was more silent than usual and had been eyeing Eilian about as much as Eilian was eyeing him. Eilian was certain that Legolas was worrying about his arm. Amusingly enough, Legolas seemed to resent it when Eilian asked how he was recovering from his own ordeal. Now, with Maldor here, he was eager to return to the company of the other novices and wasted no time in doing so.

Eilian unbuckled and removed the leather brace from his arm. He pulled off his tunic and leggings, used them to wipe off the brace, and then balled them up into a muddy mess that he tossed to one side. He put the brace on again and then picked up his soap and waded into the river. Maldor frowned disapprovingly, as he swished his own filthy clothes around in the water.

"You should rinse those clothes out," Maldor said. "Otherwise, they will never come clean later."

Eilian shrugged and lowered himself into the water. "The palace laundresses will just throw them away anyway. They will not want to put them in with the other clothes to be washed. I have lost more favorite tunics that way than I like to recall."

"My wife would not approve," said Maldor austerely.

Eilian swallowed a mouthful of river water and coughed violently. Maldor had a wife! Eilian tried to imagine what she could be like. Strange visions flashed through his mind of humorless evenings spent cleaning their cottage to an inspection-ready state. In his mind's eye, he caught a glimpse of a bed and, with a shudder, hastily averted his thoughts.

Reacting to the shudder, Maldor glanced at him. "Is your arm painful enough to require medication?" he asked.

Grateful that the unarmed combat master could not read his thoughts, Eilian shook his head. "The pain is bearable," he said, "and I do not like to take anything that might dull my alertness while we are in the forest. I think, though, that I will need to wear a sling again. And tomorrow, when we attack the novices, we should bind it to my side to keep it out of harm's way."

Maldor nodded. "I am going to put you and Legolas together on the last watch tonight," he said. "You should take the opportunity to give him some advice about dealing with Galelas. Perhaps this evening's events will make them both more willing to take steps to settle their differences."

Eilian shrugged. "Either that or they will have moved beyond the possibility of ever doing so." He rubbed the soap through his hair and then lay back to rinse it out. Maldor headed toward the shore where his clean clothes lay neatly folded. He hesitated for a moment and then picked up Eilian's dirty clothes. He dunked them quickly in the river and then wrung them out.

"There really is no point in throwing away good clothes," he said censoriously. Eilian slid under the water again to hide his broad grin.

***

Eilian leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree in which he and Legolas sat. Despite what he had told Maldor about the tolerability of the pain in his arm, he had not been able to sleep before being summoned for their watch, and he had spent the hours fretting alternately about his arm and his brother. Now, he reached inside the sling that had been created from his mud-stained tunic and tried to rub the ache away, although he knew that the leather brace would prevent him from making any actual contact.

"Does your arm hurt?" Legolas asked, anxiously.

Eilian promptly withdrew his right hand from the sling. "Not much," he lied.

"I am so sorry," Legolas said miserably for what must have been the sixth time since they had taken over the watch from Annael and Thelion in the early morning hours. "What if it is so damaged this time that it will not heal?"

Eilian sighed. "Legolas, I do not think that that is the case. But even if it were, do you really think that I would choose to have my arm be whole if it meant that you had fallen down that cliff and into the river?" He looked straight at Legolas, who was frowning uneasily. "It will heal," he said. "It will be fine."

He leaned back against the tree trunk again, trying to decide what the best way was to broach the subject of Galelas. "If you really regret what happened," he said slowly, "you might consider trying to resolve the conflict between you and Galelas." He glanced at his brother. "You are going to be one of Ithilden's captains someday, Legolas. Galelas will not be the last difficult warrior that you will have to work with."

Legolas's head dropped back against the tree as he sighed, "Eilian, I do not start these arguments. Galelas does. Just what is it that you think that I can do?"

"Stop letting him set the tone of your conversations," Eilian said promptly. "Stop pretending that he will go away. You are going to be novices together for years and almost certainly will serve in the same unit at some point in the years to come. Face up to the situation and try to make it work."

"How?" Legolas sounded exasperated, but Eilian judged that at least exasperation was better than the anxious guilt that he had been wasting his energies on before.

Now Eilian settled down more comfortably to his topic. In his years captaining the southern patrol, he had learned a number of useful lessons about how best to deal with Wood-elf warriors whose arrogance was sometimes matched only by their skills. "Ask yourself what Galelas wants," he said, "and then try to make sure that he has to do what you want in order to get what he wants."

Legolas blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Galelas wants to be the best at everything, including weapons use. He wants to be in charge. I do not see how I can help him to do either of those things even if I wanted to."

"True," Eilian acknowledged. "But think in smaller terms. You know that today's exercise will probably be similar to the ones you have been engaging in. What will Galelas want from the exercise?"

"If one of us is going to be captain, he will want it to be him," Legolas said flatly.

"Leave that aside for the moment," Eilian encouraged. "What else will he want?"

Legolas thought for a moment. "He will want to do well in the exercise," he said slowly. "He will want to distinguish himself individually, and he will be overjoyed if we novices managed to hold our own against you masters."

Eilian nodded. "Good," he said.

"And," Legolas went on in a rush, "he will want Maldor to praise him or, at least, not to criticize him. Also he will want Thelion's approval and yours." He glanced at his brother a little shyly. "I think that the other novices admire you," he confided gravely.

Eilian nodded again, smothering a smile. "And what do you want?" he asked.

There was a moment's stunned silence. "The same things," Legolas said, sounding surprised at the discovery, "or at least some of them. And I do not object if Galelas distinguishes himself or even if he is named captain, so long as the group does well."

"Do you think that he would be willing to allow someone else to be captain in trade for the group's doing well?" Eilian asked, genuinely curious.

"He might," said Legolas slowly, "although that would be easier for him if I were not the one who was named as the leader."

"Why not talk to him?" Eilian urged. "Convince him that you have goals in common and that you can band together to reach some of those goals."

Legolas looked thoughtful. "Perhaps it would work," he said at last. "At any rate, there is nothing to lose in trying."

Eilian smiled at him approvingly. "You have the makings of a captain after all," he said. Then, more soberly, he added, "Never forget that, whether you like it or not, there are things that you were born to do, Legolas, whether by position or by talent. You can no more change your position as the king's son than you can shed your talent with weapons."

Legolas sighed. "Is it so wrong to want to be just myself?" he asked wistfully.

Eilian regarded him sympathetically. He knew that only he and Ithilden, and perhaps their father, had any hope of understanding some of the pressures that would be brought to bear, indeed had already been brought to bear, on his younger brother. He patted Legolas's knee. "There is nothing wrong with it," he said, "so long as you do not think that your wanting it will make it so. Come," he said, sliding to the ground, graceful even with one arm in a sling. "It is time that we made another round."

***

Legolas picked up a fallen branch to add to the pile of firewood he was collecting and edged his way closer to where Galelas was engaged in the same task. Galelas looked up at him suspiciously. "Do you want something?" he asked sharply.

"As it happens, yes, I do," Legolas responded. "I want to talk to you."

"What about?"

"About cooperating during today's training exercise."

Galelas snorted. "By cooperating, I assume that you mean that I should yield to your so-called leadership, which, as I recall, did not get us very far yesterday."

"No," Legolas kept his voice as even as possible. "By cooperating, I mean that we should work together to get some things that you want as much as I do."

"Do you expect me to believe that? What kind of fool do you judge me to be?" Galelas retorted.

Legolas suppressed the urge to answer the question and tried to marshal his carefully worked out arguments. "Do you want us both to have night duty for the remainder of the time that we are novices?" he asked. "I have done it already and did not particularly enjoy the experience. But if we do not come to some sort of truce, Maldor will see to it that neither of us ever has a good night's sleep again." Galelas shrugged. He had not yet done night guard duty, and Legolas judged that he had no notion of how wearing it was when daytime training was still going on.

"And," he added, seeing that Galelas was not responding to his first point, "we will once again look incompetent in a training exercise." He eyed Galelas shrewdly, trying to judge what effect his words were having. It seemed to him that the other novice was now interested in what he was saying. "I, for one, would like to knock the sword out of Maldor's hand. Would you not enjoy doing that too?" This might not be one of the common goals that Eilian had been urging him to discover, Legolas thought, but it was clearly one that Galelas responded to. Indeed, it really was one that Legolas himself would greatly enjoy seeing come to fruition.

Galelas hesitated, and Legolas felt a surge of quickly-hidden triumph. "We can do it, you know," he urged carefully, "if we work together."

Galelas regarded him speculatively. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

10. Orcish Fighting

Eilian sat with Thelion and Maldor, working out the details of the day's exercise. The weather once again threatened rain, and the day was grey and dark. They would be lucky to see the sun at all today, Eilian thought. His arm in its sling was bound tightly to his side. Thelion had wrapped it carefully from shoulder to elbow, and Eilian was uncomfortable with the resulting immobility. But restrained as he now was, he would not be tempted to bring his injured arm into play during the training exercise.

Maldor's plan for the exercise called for the masters to name one of the novices as captain of the group. Now they needed to decide who that captain would be.

"It cannot be Tonduil," Thelion said at once. "He would not be able to manage it, and naming him would only be cruel."

Maldor considered that claim for a moment. "He was quick enough to point out the problem that Galelas's aggressiveness caused," he said reflectively. "He recognizes the importance of working together. And he is becoming bolder in saying what he thinks. But," he conceded, "I think that you are right. It should not be Tonduil. Either Legolas or Galelas would be an interesting choice, though."

"I spoke to Legolas while we were on watch this morning," Eilian intervened quickly, "and I am hoping that he and Galelas are negotiating a truce. In my opinion, we should not complicate matters any further by naming one of them as today's captain."

Reluctantly, Maldor agreed. "That leaves us with either Annael or Isendir," he said. He paused and then went on slowly, "I think that Isendir will be the more illuminating choice."

Eilian considered Maldor's suggestion. If they chose Annael, the novices would probably split themselves into the same two groups into which they had been dividing all along. Even if Legolas had been very persuasive with Galelas this morning, Eilian doubted that Galelas would be able to accept the choice of Legolas's best friend as the group's leader. Following his own friend, Isendir, would be difficult enough for the competitive Galelas, but he just might be able to manage it and, if he did, he would learn something in the process. On the other hand, Annael and Tonduil could probably be counted on to follow Legolas's lead in reacting to the choice. Thus both Galelas and Legolas would have to decide to contribute to or disrupt the unity of the group.

Eilian nodded slowly and could see that Thelion, too, was signaling agreement. The choice of Isendir would be illuminating indeed. The three of them rose and made their way to where the five novices were sitting. As the masters approached, the five of them got to their feet and waited to hear what the terms of the day's exercise would be.

Maldor did not keep them in suspense. "Today's exercise will once again allow you to practice devising a battle plan and following a captain's directions while carrying it out," he said. "The difference is that today we will choose your leader for you." He paused, and Eilian could see them shifting a little uneasily. They were well enough aware of their own differences to see the problems that some choices for captain might create. "Your captain today will be Isendir," Maldor finished.

The choice evidently surprised them, for they stood in silence for a few seconds. And none of them looked more surprised - and uneasy – than did Isendir himself. He glanced apologetically at Galelas, who was drawing a deep breath.

"Good," Galelas said.

The rest of them stared at him, and Eilian noticed that Legolas was smothering an elated smile. Good for you, brat, he thought. I knew that you had it in you. Thelion was standing close to Eilian's right side, and Eilian thought that he heard the blade master snort softly. He would guess that Thelion would take a great deal of pleasure in watching his charges succeed, and he was grateful that his little brother had masters like Thelion as well as one (and Eilian fervently hoped that it was only one) like Maldor.

"Yes," said Legolas. "Good."

Now the other novices' startled eyes had swiveled to Legolas, and it was Galelas's turn to smile. Rather a grim smile, Eilian thought, but still a smile.

Isendir looked deeply relieved. Annael and Tonduil exchanged glances with one another and then shrugged simultaneously.

"You may have some time to plan your strategy," Maldor said. "Let us know when you are ready." Followed by the other two masters, he once again retreated to the rock.

The novices regarded one another for a moment in silence. "Does anyone have any ideas?" Isendir asked.

After a moment, Galelas spoke. He might have voiced acceptance of Isendir as captain, Legolas thought wryly, but he had not lost any of his confidence in his own ideas. "I think that we should try to do the opposite of what we did yesterday," he said. "Instead of sticking together and letting the masters surround us, we should split into two groups when they approach and draw them in between us."

Legolas could see Annael looking disgusted that Galelas had immediately suggested taking the opposite tack from the one that Legolas had devised the day before. "They will never let themselves be drawn so," he said irritably. "They are far too shrewd."

Legolas suppressed his own annoyance at Galelas and spoke up. "But remember," he said, "they will be fighting as Orcs, not as themselves, and Orcs are not shrewd." Annael turned to stare at him. Then a small, quizzical smile crossed his face, and Legolas knew that he would go along with whatever was happening and sort out the details later. He felt a rush of affection and gratitude toward his friend.

"It could work," Isendir said slowly. "The five of us would be coming at the three of them from two sides. They would have trouble defending themselves."

"I think that we should try it," said Legolas. And then he could not resist adding, "Even if it fails, we will learn something in the attempt. This is supposed to be a training mission after all." Galelas shot Legolas a hard look at this expression of less than wholehearted confidence in his plan but said nothing.

Isendir walked toward the masters. "We are ready," he said.

Maldor nodded. "Use the tall oak tree as your heading again today," he said, and then he, Thelion, and Eilian disappeared into the woods.

The novices set out in the direction indicated, listening as they had learned to do for the sound of the oncoming attack. Today, the masters let them wait, growing more tense as time passed. The darkness of the day added to their nervousness, particularly as they moved into denser tree cover. They had probably walked a league before the sounds of oncoming assailants came from their left. They turned in that direction, waited until the masters had emerged from the woods and begun their Orc-rush toward them, and then drew neatly apart, with Galelas and Isendir on one side and Legolas, Annael, and Tonduil on the other. The masters charged between the two groups and then, turning in different directions, began to do battle.

Eilian had had difficulty remembering his Orcish identity and falling into the novices' trap. He had managed to charge stupidly into it, just as he was supposed to, but he was annoyed enough to be ready to attack whatever novice was to hand with as much vigor as he could manage. When he had turned toward the little group on his right, he had found himself faced at first with Legolas. But his younger brother had moved a bit further on, and he now was doing battle with both Annael and Tonduil.

If he had been fighting like an Elf instead of an Orc, he might have been able to manage the two of them, even with his arm bound. After all, he had been using a sword since before either one of them was born. As it was, however, even when Thelion turned to help him, having apparently just "killed" Isendir, it was too late. Annael managed to get under his defense and touch him. He immediately lowered his sword, stepped aside, and stood next to Isendir to watch the rest of the fight.

The scene in front of him presented a marked contrast to the chaotic novice efforts he was used to seeing in these exercises. Directly in front of him, Thelion had just "killed" Tonduil, but Annael was holding his own. The more interesting sight, however, was presented by Legolas and Galelas, who had Maldor nicely trapped between them. The unarmed combat master was swinging his sword vigorously, but even as Eilian watched, Galelas touched the tip of his sword to Maldor's back while the master was busy with Legolas.

Then something happened that made Eilian blink. Maldor began to lower his sword, but Legolas continued to come at him. Perhaps he had not seen the "kill," Eilian thought. As Legolas backed the master up, however, Galelas managed to get one of his feet tangled in Maldor's, and the master went down hard on his backside. Only then did Legolas back off, a look of innocent astonishment on his face. Eilian narrowed his eyes. He had seen that innocent look on his little brother's face far too many times to be taken in by it.

He glanced at Isendir and Tonduil, who were standing next to him. Both of them were round-eyed and open-mouthed. They had obviously seen the same thing Eilian had, although they presumably thought it was an accident – an enjoyable accident, but an accident nonetheless. Thelion was still preoccupied with Annael and had missed it. Galelas and Legolas were now closing in on Thelion from behind, and within seconds the battle was over, and the five novices were crowing happily and slapping one another on the back.

Thelion, too, was smiling and congratulating them. Maldor was getting slowly to his feet. He walked toward the little group, which turned to face him. His eyes were fixed on Galelas and Legolas. Eilian saw a flash of alarm in Legolas's eyes that was quickly hidden by the impassive mask that all Wood-elves could assume when they wanted to. He did not think that the look would be noticeable to anyone who was less familiar with Legolas than Eilian was, but, when he turned to look at Maldor, the unarmed combat master looked decidedly suspicious. He might not have regarded Legolas's face with loving attention from babyhood as Thranduil's family had, but he had trained novices for over a century now and knew exactly what they were capable of.

"Congratulations to you all," Maldor said, at last. He leveled his gaze at Legolas and Galelas, both of whom appeared to hold their breath. "You see what can be accomplished when you cooperate. And now that you see the power that lies in working together, you will need to give some consideration as to how that power should best be directed." There was a moment's uncertain silence. Then, tight-lipped, Maldor added, "Good work."

They all relaxed. Eilian caught a quick look being exchanged between Galelas and Legolas, and then they all began to move back toward the campsite, the novices chattering contentedly to one another. Eilian caught his brother's arm briefly and murmured in his ear, "I am proud of you, Legolas." Then he released him, pleased by the happy glow on Legolas's face. He knew that he should disapprove of novices who deliberately dumped a master on his rear end, but he could not bring himself to do so. It was all he could do to keep from grinning along with the novices.

They had just begun the walk back to camp when Maldor, who was in the lead, raised his hand for silence. Instantly, the novices stopped talking. Almost simultaneously, Thelion and Eilian stopped in their tracks and then began to scan the dense trees to their left. In a heartbeat, Thelion and Maldor were pulling their bows from their backs. "All of you novices, into the trees," Maldor ordered.

And before he said anything more, all of them knew. The noises that now reached them were unmistakable. Orcs were approaching rapidly through the woods. And they were downwind of the Elves, meaning they almost certainly knew that the Elves were there.

Legolas was stunned. Orcs seldom appeared by day, but perhaps the dark weather and the dim light of the forest had made these Orcs bold. Or perhaps they had been sheltering nearby and had heard Elves' voices and the sounds of the training battle. They would have had trouble resisting an opportunity to join in whatever they believed was happening. Wherever these had been, it was nearby, for their approach left the Elves no time to flee or to send the novices to safety.

Hearing Maldor's order, Legolas was up in an oak tree almost before he had time to draw breath, grabbing his own bow and making ready to use it. As he glanced around at his companions, he noticed with dismay that Eilian was still on the ground, his sword at the ready. His brother had no bow, he realized, and could not have used one if he did have it. "Let me fight from here," Eilian called to Maldor. "I will be useless in the trees."

After a second, Maldor said something to Thelion, and the blade master dropped to the ground next to Eilian and drew his own sword. Legolas knew that Thelion's role as blade master had been hard earned. The Orcs would not find fighting his sword a good trade for dodging his arrows.

"Get ready!" Maldor was calling. "They are coming. Take careful aim. If one of you even comes near another Elf with an arrow, you will wish that an Orc, not I, had charge of you. Stay under cover. The Orcs are coming from that direction, but I want Galelas and Annael to be ready to fire in the other direction if they spread out." Legolas resolutely dragged his thoughts away from Eilian, nocked an arrow, drew his bow, and waited for a target to appear.

The Orcs swarmed out the trees much as the masters had done only a short time ago, only there were many more of them – perhaps as many as twenty. They had barely begun to appear, however, before a rain of arrows cut down those who were in the lead. Wood-elves were Middle-Earth's archers, and even the novices were deadly with a bow.

The arrows from the Elves in the trees kept most of the Orcs from the two on the ground. But when Legolas glanced down, he saw that Eilian and Thelion were back-to-back and battling three of the creatures. He remembered Maldor's threat, took careful aim, and shot one of them but then had to move to a more sheltered spot in the tree. Some of the Orcs had bows, and they had sighted the Elven archers and were returning fire.

Legolas could see Maldor turning now and urging Galelas and Tonduil higher into the branches, for their current position was too exposed to the arrows coming from below. Suddenly, Maldor jerked, twisting awkwardly and flinging his head back. Legolas saw him tumble from the trees to the ground with heart stopping slowness, struck by an Orcish arrow that had found its mark while the master was turned away issuing orders to the two novices. Legolas froze for only an instant and then moved hastily toward the trees above where he lay, firing arrows to keep the Orcs off him. Thelion and Eilian were hacking their way frantically toward Maldor on the ground, and the other novices were also converging above the area.

"Keep firing at them!" Legolas cried, worried that his companions' attention had been diverted by Maldor's injury. Arrows flew like a swarm of bees, and the Orcs were falling back, evidently uncertain about how many Elves were still in the trees. By this time, the number of surviving Orcs had dwindled to perhaps half of their starting number. The concerted flight of arrows seemed to stun them, and with frustrated roars, they withdrew.

Legolas dropped to the ground next to where Thelion and Eilian were hurriedly examining Maldor's injury. The other novices quickly joined them. The ground around them was littered with dead and dying Orcs, and the stench was suffocating. The novices were white-faced and, like some of the other whom he could see, Legolas found that his hands were trembling slightly, but they were at least outwardly in possession of themselves.

"Annael, Legolas, and Tonduil," Thelion ordered, "keep your bows ready and stand guard around us. Tell us if you hear the Orcs returning." Legolas did as he was told but found himself taking frequent glances back over his shoulder at the wounded Maldor.

The unarmed combat master was unconscious, having evidently struck the back of his head against a tree limb when he fell. The Orc's arrow protruded from his left thigh, held in place by the barbs on the arrowhead. "It will have to be cut out," Thelion groaned, "but we cannot do it now. The Orcs will not stay away long." He glanced at Eilian and pointed to the black substance that showed on the protruding shaft. "I fear that the arrow was poisoned."

Legolas swallowed hard. The poison would take time to work, but not a great deal of it. Maldor needed a healer.

"We have to get him into the trees," Thelion said. He wrapped a fold of his tunic around his hand, reached toward the arrow and, with a sharp movement, broke the shaft. The arrowhead was still in place, but it would now be possible to move Maldor with less jarring of the wound. Thelion picked Maldor up and then jerked his head at Galelas. "Get up in the trees and take him from me," he ordered, and Galelas hastened to obey. Thelion leapt up after them and helped Galelas to move the unconscious Maldor higher among the leaves.

"Everyone back into the trees, now!" Thelion ordered. "You, too, Eilian. We have seen that they have very few archers. If we are out of reach, they will have to rely on them, and we will have the advantage."

Legolas swung back into the trees. Suddenly, Eilian was next to him. He had slung Maldor's quiver and bow onto his own back and was fumbling at the wrappings that bound his injured left arm tightly against his body. Thelion had arranged them and had tied them at the back, and Eilian could not get at the knot.

"Help me get this off," he commanded.

Legolas glanced at him quickly. "No," he said.

"I am ordering you to help me get this off," Eilian cried.

"No," Legolas repeated.

Eilian looked incredulous. "But I am ordering you!"

"You can add your disciplinary report about me to Maldor's when we get home," Legolas maintained. "I will not help you to destroy your arm. I have already done enough damage."

Eilian let out a strangled cry of fury and grabbed the dagger that he, like almost all Wood-elves over the age of thirty, kept in his boot. He began to hack awkwardly at the bindings, unable to get an angle on the tightly wound cloth that would not also cut his chest. He was talking savagely to himself in what Legolas recognized as Dwarvish. Legolas had had Dwarvish lessons and was reasonably fluent, but Eilian was using a vocabulary that Legolas's tutors had not covered.

Thelion was arraying the novices in the trees, spreading them out to take advantage of the cover offered by dense foliage and still be able to shoot in all directions. "Legolas," he called, "move to that limb right above you. You will have better shelter." Legolas obeyed and then waited for the attack.

With a vicious exclamation, Eilian clasped the dagger in his teeth and followed Legolas to the higher branch, where he began hacking at the bindings again. Legolas ignored him as best he could and readied his bow.

"They are coming back," called Thelion.

The Orcs came toward them once again, and Legolas fired steadily, amazed by both their daring and their stupidity. With the Elves all in the trees, the Orc swordsmen were unable to use their weapons, and the Elves' arrows were finding their marks. Legolas had known that the other novices were quick and accurate on the training fields, and he now saw that the years of practice that all of them had undertaken had made them equally lethal when it counted. They were beginners in terms of battle strategy, but if all that were required was standing still and shooting a bow, they were more than capable of doing it.

Eilian had at last cut through the bindings on his injured arm. He shook it out of the sling and stood up, readying Maldor's bow. He plucked an arrow from the quiver on his back, nocked it, and hesitated for only a second before drawing the bowstring back to his habitual anchor point by his right eye tooth. He felt a warning twinge in his left arm and then loosed the arrow, striking an Orc in the throat and killing it instantly. Savage satisfaction swept over him, and he drew again. It had been far too long since he had engaged in real battle, he thought, and shot one of the Orcs at the base of the tree in which he and Legolas perched. His arm twinged again. He would have to shorten his draw, he thought, and nocked another arrow.

When he looked around for a target, however, he found that the continued pressure of the Elves' archery had finally driven the greatly diminished group of Orcs into flight. Eilian had absolutely no objection to shooting an Orc in the back and did so. It fell where it was struck, and then the area was empty of anyone but Elves.

They came quickly down from the trees, Galelas and Tonduil bearing Maldor between them. "We need to get that arrow out," Thelion was saying, "before any more of the poison gets into his system. You novices stand guard. Eilian, I am going to need your help." Eilian knelt beside him, the excitement of the battle fading as he refocused on the injured Elf.

Thelion pulled a small pouch off Maldor's belt and opened it to reveal a collection of emergency healing supplies. He glanced at Eilian. "I am going to cut the arrowhead out," he said. "Be ready to pack and bind the wound." Eilian nodded. Thelion drew his own dagger and poured a solution from the healing pack over it. "Hold him," he commanded and then, as quickly as he could, he dug the arrowhead out of Maldor's thigh. The unarmed combat master jerked and groaned but remained blessedly unconscious. They let the wound bleed freely for a moment to clean it, and then Eilian packed it with herbs, and they bound it tightly with clean bandaging from the healing supplies.

Eilian glanced around at the young Elves standing guard. He did not like the sight of his younger brother and his companions standing among dead Orcs and watching for the return of live ones. "We need to get out of this area," he said to Thelion, who nodded agreement.

Then Thelion frowned at Eilian as if he had suddenly realized something. "Why is your arm out of your sling?" he asked crisply.

Eilian hastily slipped his arm back into the sling. "Protecting my arm would have done us no good if we had not lived to enjoy the results," he said rather defensively. Thelion snorted and then picked up Maldor and flung him over his shoulder.

"Move back toward the camp, quickly," Thelion ordered. "Keep alert as we go." He started off, with the rest of them following, bows in hand.

They reached the campsite having seen no more of the Orcs. Thelion lowered Maldor to the ground and took a brief look at him. Then he began issuing orders. "Annael and Legolas, find some branches that we can use to rig a litter. The rest of you, look for vines that will be strong enough to use for ties." The novices began to scatter into the woods. "Do not go far," Thelion called urgently. "I believe that the Orcs are gone, but we cannot be sure."

"What were they doing so close to my adar's stronghold?" Eilian worried quietly to Thelion. "Ithilden and Adar need to know about this." Thelion nodded in wordless agreement.

The novices did as they were told and were soon back with branches and vines. Under Eilian's direction, they used them and Maldor's cloak to construct a litter. Galelas and Thelion carefully eased Maldor onto the litter, and Thelion then covered him with his own cloak.

They picked up what was essential in their gear and repacked it so that it could be carried by three of them, for four would be need to carry the litter.

Thelion and Galelas made ready to pick up one end of the litter. "Isendir and Tonduil, take the other end," Thelion commanded. "Except for Eilian, we will spell one another off. We need to get Maldor home as quickly as possible." They picked up the litter and began moving. Eilian's arm was now throbbing steadily, as he walked along behind them, but they were on their way home, he thought, and he would soon be in the hands of the healers again.

Before they had gone far, the skies opened, and the rain that had threatened all day poured down upon them. There was little that they could do but struggle on. Slowed by their burden, they would have to walk through the afternoon and the night to reach home by the next morning. Maldor needed a healer's care, and there was no time to waste.

11. The Aftermath

The trip home was a nightmare. It rained unceasingly, and they were all soon soaked through. Even their efforts to keep Maldor reasonably dry were eventually ineffective. There were simply no more dry clothes to cover him with. And it was obvious to Eilian that Maldor was slowly becoming more ill. His face was flushed, and although he regained consciousness some time late in the day, his mind wandered. He seemed to believe that they were still under attack and would not lie quiet.

Eilian watched in despair as Maldor struggled against the vines they had used to tie him into the litter, making the task of carrying his not inconsiderable weight much more difficult for Thelion, Isendir, Tonduil, and Annael, who happened to be holding him at the time. How could Maldor still be so strong, as ill as he was? Eilian wondered.

"We will have to stop," Thelion said. "We cannot go on with him like this." They were near some large rocks that provided rudimentary shelter, and they set the litter down in as dry a place as they could find. "Eilian, Galelas and Legolas, stand guard while everyone else tries to scrounge up something we can use to make a fire," he directed. "Do not go out of the sight of one of the guards." He began sorting through the contents of the healing kit, while the rest of them did as they were bid.

Eilian stood with his sword drawn, watching his companions hunting for usable firewood as the dim daylight faded into early evening. They returned with enough kindling and wood that was merely damp that Eilian and Annael were able to coax a fire into starting and Thelion brewed an herb tea that would drug Maldor into sleep and perhaps curb his fever.

Thelion looked at the squirming, muttering Maldor and then slid his glance over the novices, settling on the two whom Eilian would have judged to be the strongest. "Galelas and Legolas," he said, "you will have to hold him still long enough for me to pour this into him." They obediently moved to crouch near Maldor's head. "Pin his shoulders with your knees and use your hands to hold his head steady," Thelion directed, as he approached with the hot tea. "Pull his mouth open, Legolas," he added. "Be careful that he does not bite you." Legolas complied, and Thelion began to force the tea down Maldor's throat. The unarmed combat master struggled, but between them, Legolas and Galelas managed to hold him steady enough that Thelion was satisfied with the amount he swallowed.

Thelion sat back on his heels. "We will wait for a few minutes while that takes effect," he said, and they were only too glad to comply. Eilian knew that the novices were finding the forced march exhausting. Truth be told, they all were. The need to watch for Orcs at the same time added to the toll the trip was taking.

In addition, Eilian's arm throbbed constantly. He knew that he probably should not have tried to use a bow during the battle with the Orcs, but he had felt completely useless once Thelion had ordered them all into the trees. He understood the strategy and, indeed, would have ordered the same course of action himself, but when he had looked around and seen Thelion and the five novices battling the Orcs by themselves, he had been unable to stay out of the fight. As it turned out, they could probably have triumphed without his aid, but he had had no way to know that ahead of time. And he thought that his excuse to Thelion was valid: There would have been no point in saving his arm if they had all died in the attack.

Even now it bothered him that Thelion would not let him help to carry the litter. His right arm was uninjured, after all, and he was right-handed. But he held his tongue and tried to make up for his uselessness by making sure that he had the heaviest of the three packs they still carried. He had seen Legolas stumble the last time he had donned a pack after finishing a turn as litter bearer, and he had steadied his brother and then shifted some things from Legolas's pack into his own.

"I can manage," Legolas had protested.

"Shut up," was the only reply that Eilian had made as he had continued redistributing the packed items. He had looked up to find Galelas, who was carrying the other pack, studying them skeptically, but he had ignored him and gone on with what he was doing. Then he had gone to Galelas and removed items from his pack too.

"You do not have to do that," said Galelas stiffly. "I am stronger than Legolas."

"I expect that you are, but I do not care," Eilian said with a sigh, as he continued to reorganize the packs. Then he had smiled at Galelas in as unpleasant a manner as possible and added, "Shut up." Galelas had evidently been startled into silent cooperation because he had made no further protest.

Eilian recalled that event now as Galelas sat down beside him. Grateful for the brief rest that they were being offered, Eilian leaned back against the rock in as sheltered an area as he could find, and all of the other novices too dropped to the ground near him. Thelion was repacking the healing kit.

"How bad is he?" Annael asked, directing a worried look at Maldor.

"Bad enough," Eilian responded grimly. "But the healers will be able to help him, and I think that we have time enough to get him to them."

"Do you think that the Orcs will return?" Tonduil asked, with an anxious tension in his voice that wrung Eilian's heart. Tonduil had fought as bravely as any of them in the battle, but he seemed to be more shaken by the experience than the other novices were. Thelion evidently heard his question now and glanced over at them quickly, his eyes meeting Eilian's.

"I do not think so," Eilian said carefully. He wanted to reassure this nervous novice, but he knew the danger of encouraging a false sense of security. "We will be watchful though, just as we have been." Thelion turned back to tending Maldor.

There was silence for a moment. "How is your arm?" Galelas suddenly asked.

Eilian turned to him startled. Legolas had asked that question repeatedly earlier in the afternoon until Eilian had been hard put to answer reassuringly instead of snapping at him. "It will be fine once the healers see to it," he answered now. Galelas nodded and looked away. Eilian saw Legolas eyeing the other novice, but his little brother said nothing.

Thelion rose. "I think that we can move on now," he said. Maldor had slid into sleep and looked as if he would be easier for them to carry. They doused the fire, picked up the litter and their packs, and went on with their seemingly endless journey. The only respite from their misery came when the rain stopped shortly after midnight.

The rain and Maldor's restlessness had slowed them enough that it was midmorning by the time they neared the edge of the woods near the training fields. To Eilian's relief, the sight of the litter that they carried was enough to raise the alarm immediately, and first warriors and then healers came running to lend what assistance they could. They lowered the litter to the ground, and Belówen crouched over him.

"It was a poisoned Orc arrow," Thelion said, pulling the carefully wrapped arrow from his belt and offering it to the healer.

"You saved it. Good," Belówen grunted. "That will make it easier to identify the poison." He signaled to the warriors who were hovering nearby. "Take him to the infirmary," he said, and they picked up the litter.

At that moment, Eilian saw Thranduil and Ithilden running toward them from the direction of Ithilden's office. Both looked alarmed. Word had obviously reached them that the novice training party had returned and that there were wounded among them. Thranduil's eyes scanned the group and his relief was obvious when he saw both of his sons among those who were apparently uninjured. Ithilden too looked relieved, although he immediately redirected his attention toward the litter, as did Thranduil.

"He needs to get to the infirmary quickly, my lords," said Belówen firmly.

Thranduil nodded. "Go," he said, and the warriors carrying the litter moved off with their burden, Belówen walking along side. As they left, Lómilad, the novice master, approached hastily, intent upon checking on his charges. He was counting heads and looked reassured when he saw all the novices, although it was also clearly dawning on him that the elf in the litter that had just left must be Maldor.

Both Thranduil and Ithilden now turned to Thelion and Eilian. "What happened?" Thranduil demanded. Eilian held his tongue and let Thelion speak, for with Maldor injured, this was now his mission.

"We ran into a party of about twenty Orcs," Thelion reported and described where they had been when the skirmish occurred. "I believe that we killed most of them," he added, "and we saw no signs of any other parties of them, but we did not search thoroughly. Maldor was injured, and I wanted to get the novices away."

Ithilden nodded. "You did right," he said. He turned to his father. "With your permission, my lord, I will go and see to sending a party to find out what they can." Thranduil nodded his consent, and Ithilden departed, already calling orders to warriors he saw among the slowly dispersing crowd. Weary as he was, Eilian could not help smiling to himself. There was something very comforting about Ithilden's single-minded determination to organize those around him.

Lómilad had quietly asked Thelion a question and now moved among the weary-looking novices, putting his hand on a shoulder here and touching an elbow there. "You have done well," he said. "Go home now and rest. Tomorrow, we will speak of the trip, and you can voice whatever concerns you still have." The novices hesitated for only a second and then, with a respectful nod at Thranduil, they were gone except for Legolas. "My lord," Lómilad gave a salute of his own, "have you need of us?"

Thranduil shook his head. "No," he smiled, "You have my leave to go. I will take my own offspring and go home too." Lómilad nodded, and then he and Thelion left, going toward the novice masters' hut. Eilian trusted that Lómilad would not keep Thelion long. The blade master too needed to rest.

Thranduil now turned toward his two sons, both of whom looked tired and bedraggled. Apparently completely indifferent to the eyes of anyone still in the area, he caught Legolas in a tight embrace. The degree of distress which his youngest son had been feeling was evident in the fact that he did not protest being publicly hugged. Then Thranduil did the same with Eilian, who found that he could not avoid a little gasp of pain at the pressure on his arm, trapped in its sling between him and his father.

Thranduil reacted immediately. "What is it?" he asked sharply.

"Eilian has hurt his arm again," Legolas piped up immediately. "He needs a healer."

Eilian was annoyed. He had intended to go to the healers as soon as he could. He was, after all, not a fool. But he had not wanted to tell his father of his injury until he was sure of its extent. Thranduil would only worry and drive him mad by fussing over him. At least, Eilian thought, Legolas had not announced the injury in front of Ithilden, who would decide whether, when, and where he returned to duty.

"You talk too much, brat," he growled.

"He tells me what you should have told me," Thranduil admonished. "How did you injure it?"

"That is a long story," Eilian said reluctantly. Next to him, Legolas, too, looked hesitant. Eilian would guess that he was not eager to tell their father about nearly falling over the cliff or about disobeying Eilian's order to help him free his arm.

Thranduil looked at his two sons who were obviously not willing to talk about something that had happened on this trip. With a start, he realized that Legolas was now only an inch or so shorter than Eilian. "When did that happen?" he wondered and then shook the thought off.

"Go to the healers," he instructed Eilian. "You may tell me how serious the injury is after you have finished with them. Legolas will tell me the story of your trip." He put his arm affectionately around his youngest son's shoulders. Legolas looked resigned. "Come," Thranduil said. "You need to rest before we talk. And it looks as if this is a story that I will want to hear sitting down with a cup of wine in my hand."

***

Legolas stripped off his still-damp clothes, fell into his bed, and slept the rest of the day away. By the time a light knock on his door awakened him, evening was drawing in. "Come in," he called groggily.

The door opened and Thranduil entered, followed by a servant with a tray of food. The servant put the tray on a table and then discreetly withdrew. Stifling a yawn, Legolas pulled on a night robe and struggled to his feet.

"Come and eat, iôn-nín," Thranduil encouraged. He poured a cup of wine and sat down with Legolas, who suddenly realized that he was starving. Thranduil waited until he had consumed an unconscionable amount of venison, bread, cheese, and cider before he asked again for an account of the trip. "I wish to know what happened to you and Eilian," he pressed gently. "You are too important to me for me to be willing to stay in ignorance."

Legolas found that the tone in which Thranduil spoke made him want to tell his father all that had happened on this stressful and ultimately terrifying mission. He told Thranduil everything – the quarrels with Galelas, the reprimands from Maldor, the mock battles with the masters and the real one with the Orcs, his own near escape from falling over the cliff and into the river. He kept back only two things: his defiance of Eilian's order to help him unbind his arm, and his and Galelas's effort to knock Maldor down. Both of these things struck him as rather dangerous to tell his father.

When Legolas had finished, Thranduil leaned back and regarded his youngest son. Legolas had not told him everything, he thought. There had been one or two awkward pauses in which he was obviously trying to decide what to tell and what to hold back. Thranduil was not unduly concerned about these gaps in the story, however. If the omissions were important, he would undoubtedly learn about them in due time. But he was concerned that his son know how Thranduil judged what Legolas had told him. And Legolas's nervous face told him that he awaited that judgment.

So he leaned forward and put his hand on his son's knee. "The novice masters will decide what consequences will follow from the quarreling, Legolas," he said. "That is not my affair. But it seems to me that you did not want it and made an effort to end it. And it also sounds as if you behaved well and fought bravely during the encounter with the Orcs. I am proud of you," he finished simply.

Legolas flushed with pleasure. The trip had been difficult, but perhaps he had not weathered it so badly after all. Another thought occurred to him.

"Has Eilian come back from the healers yet?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes, he came back some time ago."

"How is he? Is his arm badly damaged?"

Thranduil sighed. "They do not know," he said. At Legolas's look of dismay, he grimaced. He had thought that Legolas might feel guilt over his brother's injury, although so far as Thranduil could tell, it was the use of a bow that had finally done the harm. "Time will tell, Legolas," he said. "It does no good to worry."

He rose and Legolas did too. Thranduil dropped a light kiss on his son's forehead. "Go and bathe," he said. "You have mud in your hair."

Legolas smiled. "Yes, Adar," he answered obediently. As Thranduil moved toward the door, he added, "Thank you."

His father smiled back over his shoulder. "You are most welcome, iôn-nín." And he left, closing the door softly behind him.

***

Eilian sat quietly with his injured arm lying on the table. Belówen ran his hands lightly along the forearm and then let them rest over the damaged muscles. He shut his eyes, trying to sense the extent and form of the injury. His concentration was total, as he slipped into a trance-like state. Eilian did not understand what the healer was doing, but he felt the warmth flowing through his arm, and he drew as much comfort as he could from it. He was far more worried than he had admitted to anyone about this injury. He had been back from the trip for a week now, and the healers were still unwilling to predict when, or even if, it would heal.

Belówen opened his eyes and sighed. He removed his hands. "How does it feel?" he asked, as he buckled the brace back onto Eilian's arm.

"It aches," Eilian answered truthfully, "but less than it did. It seems better." He offered this last, hoping that the healer would confirm it, but Belówen simply finished with the brace and helped Eilian to settle his arm back in its sling.

Eilian sighed and changed the subject. "I am told that Maldor is better," he said.

"Yes," Belówen agreed, "he is. Moreover, when I went to see him this morning, he was out of bed and writing reports. Even his wife's protests did no good. He is a worse patient than you are."

Eilian smiled. Yes, he would imagine that Maldor would be less than docile in the hands of a healer.

"Rest your arm further, and come and see me in three days," Belówen instructed, and with that, Eilian had to be content.

***

Legolas and Annael approached the clearing where the other three novices waited for them around a fire. The week since they had been home had been taken up by discussions led by Lómilad and Thelion about the events of the training mission. At first, the masters had encouraged the novices to talk about what they had experienced. Legolas had found himself, along with the others, gradually feeling freer to voice the fear and uncertainty that had gripped him during the mission and kept him from sleeping well for several nights after their return. Eventually, the talk had turned to lessons in strategy and tactics, and all of them had once again become their everyday selves. But they knew that they had shared something that they were not likely to forget.

Now Maldor was on the mend, and they were soon to return to their normal routine. Tonight they had convened to mark the end of the whole affair and to celebrate together before the single event that still remained to occur: The next morning Lómilad was going to convene the novices of all ages and have a small ceremony commending these five for their disciplined, courageous fighting against the Orcs and the care they took to hurry Maldor into the healers' hands.

"It is about time that you got here," cried Galelas. "We have been waiting."

Legolas rolled his eyes but made no response. He and Galelas had been more or less tolerating one another in the last week, but Legolas found it hard to believe that they would ever be friends.

"It took time to get what we wanted," he responded, "but we did." He pulled three waterskins from under his cloak, and Annael produced two more. They grinned and the others cheered. The two of them had been commissioned to get wine for the celebration, which they had done by taking empty waterskins into Thranduil's cellars and filling them from the first tapped barrel that they came to when no guard was in sight. They distributed the skins around the circle.

Legolas sat down between Annael and Tonduil and took a deep draught. His palate had been educated enough at his father's table that he recognized the taste of a very fine Dorwinian. He paused, considered consequences, and then took refuge in a second long draught. What was done could not be undone, he thought, so he might as well enjoy himself.

Next to him, Annael began to sing and they all joined in, the harmony of their song joining with that of the trees and the stars. At the end of the song, they all drank again. "This is rather good," Galelas said grudgingly. Legolas felt himself smiling as he thought of what Thranduil would say if he could hear Galelas's tepid praise of the drink. But he did not rise to the bait. He was feeling too relaxed.

As if he could not bear being ignored, Galelas now wandered over to Legolas's side of the fire and sat down next to him. "Have you by any chance heard anything about when or whether we are going to have to serve the night duty?" he asked in a low voice.

Legolas shook his head. "I think perhaps that Maldor has not yet filed a report with Ithilden," he said. "At any rate, Ithilden seems to know nothing about it." He glanced at Galelas. "You remember that Thelion was not present when Maldor ordered it, and I do not think that Eilian would say anything about it."

Galelas brooded for a moment. "Your brother is very nice," he said abruptly. "You are lucky." Then he got up and moved back to his former place on the other side of the fire.

Legolas drank deeply again and found that he was beginning to feel a little dizzy. Could he be becoming drunk? he wondered in surprise. Like the rest of them, he had drunk wine on an almost daily basis from childhood. But in his home, as in those of his companions, wine was part of meals and the amount he had had was limited and often mixed with water. He considered these factors and looked around at the flushed faces of the other novices. Then he laughed out loud. Yes, he thought, I think we all are becoming a little drunk.

Annael poked him. "Why are you laughing?" he asked solemnly and then collapsed with laughter himself.

Isendir lay back on the grass and studied the stars. "We should do something to show that we are a unit now," he said, "something to mark us off from the other novices."

"Good idea," agreed Annael, recovering himself somewhat. "What should we do?"

They all considered his question for a moment. Finally Tonduil spoke. "I have an idea," he said tentatively. "It is something you can do with horses, and they look very elegant afterwards. Shall I show you?"

They looked at him with interest. "Show us," said Galelas.

"I need a knife and a volunteer," said Tonduil.

For some reason, Tonduil's request struck Legolas as funny. With a broad grin, he offered Tonduil the dagger from his boot. "I volunteer," he said grandly and then laughed. The others seemed to share in the joke, for they guffawed too.

Still sniggering, Tonduil rose and came to stand before Legolas, brandishing the dagger. "This will not hurt," he said solemnly and then laughed again. He tugged a small lock of Legolas's hair loose at the temple and then, with a single swipe of the sharp knife, he cut it, leaving about six inches of fine, blond hair. Legolas jumped but did not otherwise protest. The others watched in silent awe as Tonduil braided the short lock so that it fell over the side of Legolas's forehead. They were evidently uncertain about whether what Tonduil was doing would fit or clash with their Elven vanity about their hair.

"Now, we need something decorative," Tonduil pondered. "We use bells on the horses but I do not think that they would be appropriate for us." He looked around. "Do you think that we could find birds' nests in the dark?" he asked musingly. "Blue jay feathers would be nice."

Enthusiasm swept through the little group once again. "Of course," snorted Annael, who was the best among them at woodcraft. "I can find anything in the woods at any time," he uncharacteristically boasted. He was immediately up into one of the nearby trees and gone.

While they waited for his return, Tonduil cut and deftly braided short forelocks on Galelas and Isendir, and then Isendir performed the same task on him. By the time that Annael returned with a handful of blue feathers, they were ready for him. Tonduil cut and braided Annael's hair, and then they added a bright, blue feather to the end of each braid. Tonduil stood back and studied them with satisfaction.

"That looks splendid," he enthused, "and it will certainly show that we are a group, for no one else will have their hair like this."

"Excellent!" cried Isendir and slapped Tonduil on the back. The rest of them could not help but agree, and they lifted skins again to toast one another and their newly found solidarity.

12. Entertaining Visitors

Legolas had been given leave to spend the night with Annael. On previous occasions, they had discovered that it was far easier to return late to Annael's cottage than to the palace. Annael had no older brothers, and no guards stood before the doors of his home. Moreover, his parents were more easy-going than Thranduil was. Indeed, Legolas thought that Annael took his own placid temperament directly from them.

As they approached the cottage, however, Annael suddenly paused and looked a bit apprehensive. He regarded Legolas who was softly singing a song to the night that he was creating as he went along. Legolas stopped too and stood docilely as his friend raised first his own hood and then Legolas's. Annael poked at the blue feather that dangled in Legolas's face and tucked it out of sight under the hood.

"I think that it would be best if you stopped singing now," Annael said. "My parents are probably both abed, and we do not want to disturb them."

"Very well," said Legolas agreeably, and the two of them entered the cottage.

The little hallway was dim, for no windows opened into it, and Annael's parents did, indeed, seem to have gone to bed. They had left a lantern burning on a table in the hallway, though, and Annael went forward and picked it up. Legolas trailed after him, humming to himself.

"Annael?" called a deep voice from the bed chamber to their right. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Adar," Annael answered. "I am sorry that we disturbed you." Legolas was suddenly struck by a perfect melody for his song and sang a bit out loud to see how it sounded. Annael hastily clapped his hand over his friend's mouth.

There was a second's silence. "Is that Legolas I hear with you?" asked the voice.

"Yes," Annael answered and then, unexpectedly, he gave a nervous giggle. He cringed and clapped his hand over his own mouth.

There was another brief silence. "It sounds as if both of you should go to bed," the voice said, rather dryly. "I believe that you have to be at the novices' training fields early tomorrow. I suspect that you are going to be less happy then than you are now."

"Good night, Adar," Annael called and shoved Legolas unceremoniously through the door to his own chamber, closing it behind him. The two of them collapsed against the door, laughing as quietly as they could, although Annael was also dismayed. "Adar will have something to say about this," he moaned.

"But not now," Legolas returned happily. He shed the pack he was wearing and then dropped to his knees to drag out the pallet that he knew was under Annael's bed. He shoved it against the other wall and collapsed on it. "Do you think that we will really be less happy in the morning?" he asked dreamily, already beginning to drift off.

"Probably," Annael said, taking the time to remove his cloak and boots before flopping onto the bed. "My adar is usually right, I am sorry to say." He leaned over to put out the lantern and then he, too, fell asleep.

Morning came with unbelievable swiftness. Legolas awoke to find Annael's father shaking his shoulder. "Time to get up," he said cheerily. Legolas looked over at the bed, where Annael sat holding his head in his hands. As he looked at his friend, it occurred to Legolas that he too had a headache of blinding proportions.

"The two of you need to bathe and dress," Annael's father went on with relentless good spirits. "Your naneth has made a special breakfast, Annael." He left the room, shutting the door noisily behind him. They both jumped and moaned.

A short time later, the two friends dragged themselves into the kitchen and sat down at the table. They were freshly washed and dressed and had rebraided their hair with the bright feathers. But they both looked slightly stunned. Annael's mother stood looking at them with one hand over her mouth, while his father eyed them appraisingly.

"Are you two planning to appear before the novice masters with your hair like that?" he asked. Annael's father was a warrior serving in the Home Guard, and he had an accurate idea of what was likely to happen this morning on the novices' training fields.

"Yes," said Annael, a bit defensively.

His father gave a short laugh. "I will say one thing for the two of you: You are brave."

"Oh, Annael," his mother moaned.

His father gestured toward the food that stood waiting. "I expect that these two young warriors are hungry," he said heartily, and Annael's mother picked up the plates of food and set them in front of the two friends. Lightly cooked fried eggs stared gelatinously up at them next to some very fatty bacon. Annael took one look and bolted from the room, but Legolas was made of sturdier stuff. He took a forkful of the bacon and raised it toward his mouth. Then the smell struck him like a dwarf's hammer, and he too fled the room.

***

Ithilden sat in his office, trying to focus on the reports in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting to Alfirin. The baby growing within her was beginning to drain her strength. The bond that Ithilden shared with his wife meant that he could offer her his own strength to support her, and he did so as much as he could. As a consequence, they were both tired much of the time, and he worried over her.

"My lord?" said his aide from the doorway.

He looked up. "What is it?"

"Tonduil asks to see you," the aide said.

Ithilden raised his eyebrows. What could his young brother-in-law want? "Send him in," he said.

Tonduil's appearance immediately drove all thoughts of the novice's sister from Ithilden's mind. What had the young fool done to his hair? Ithilden seldom interfered in matters to do with the novices, for he did not wish to meddle in an area that Lómilad managed well. So he had no intention of commenting on the bizarre little braid and the feather, but he was willing to wager that Lómilad would not be so restrained.

"Sit down," he offered in as neutral a tone as he could manage. "What is it you wanted to see me about?"

Tonduil drew a deep breath but let it out without speaking. Whatever he had to say was evidently difficult for him to get out. "I am very sorry, Ithilden," he finally said in a rush, "but I wish to resign from the novice training."

Ithilden sat back in his chair and regarded Tonduil steadily. "The training mission was difficult," he offered.

"Yes," said Tonduil, "but that is not the reason I wish to resign. At least, that is not the only reason. I was unhappy before that. I am not like Legolas, you know, and Thelion says that I should do what will make me happy."

Ithilden kept his face impassive. "And what would that be?" he asked.

"I would like to be a horsemaster," Tonduil responded, a light coming into his eyes. "And my adar says that he can arrange for me to be apprenticed to a horsemaster right away, this afternoon even, if I wish it."

Ithilden had no difficulty at all believing that his father-in-law would act swiftly to help his son become something other than a warrior. Tonduil's family had never believed that this was the right path for him.

"Are you certain that this is what you want?" Ithilden asked.

"Yes," Tonduil responded firmly. "I am sorry if it disappoints you, Ithilden," he added, now looking anxious.

Ithilden grinned broadly at him. "Far from being disappointed," he said, "I must congratulate you. You could have been a warrior if you cared to, of course, but I think that you will be an exceptionally fine horsemaster. You have a real gift with the beasts."

Tonduil let out his breath in a great sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said, happily.

"Will you be at the ceremony for you and the other novices this morning?" Ithilden asked.

"I would rather not," said Tonduil. "I wish to go with my adar to meet the horsemaster who will train me."

"Go then," Ithilden told him. "Have a good time." Thus dismissed, Tonduil hurried from the room, his mind already on his future. Ithilden smiled to himself. Alfirin would be happy, he thought. He looked forward to telling her about Tonduil's decision.

He had barely turned his attention back to his reports before the aide appeared in the doorway again. "Lord Eilian is here, my lord," he said.

"Good," Ithilden said, glad of the excuse. "Come on in, Eilian," he called over the aide's shoulder and his brother sauntered in and dropped into the chair that Tonduil had recently vacated. The aide withdrew.

"What brings you here to the haven of paperwork?" Ithilden asked lightly.

Eilian paused, as if considering the best way to broach his topic. "I wanted to talk to you about Legolas, actually," he said.

"What of him?" Ithilden asked cautiously.

"Did you know that when he finishes his training, he wants to be posted to the southern patrol?" Eilian asked.

Ithilden flinched. "No, I did not," he said wearily, rubbing his temples. "But that decision is years away, Eilian. There is no point in worrying about it now."

"I hear that Maldor is well enough to write reports," Eilian said. The comment might have seemed unconnected to the topic of Legolas, but Ithilden had managed to read some of what was on his desk, and he thought he understood the way his brother's mind was running. Indeed, he suspected that Maldor lay at the heart of Eilian's reason for this visit.

He pulled a piece of paper out of the stack. "Maldor's report on the training mission contains some details that Thelion's did not include and that you did not see fit to mention when we talked about the trip," he said. "He says that the novices did well, just as Thelion did, but he wants to place Legolas and Galelas on night guard duty for two weeks for quarreling." He looked at Eilian. "I know that you do not like him," he said. "But I wonder what you think of him as a novice master after the time you have spent seeing him at work."

Eilian hesitated. "It is difficult to say," he began slowly. "He is hard on them, but perhaps that is useful because they will need to be tough if they are to survive as warriors. And they do sometimes need the discipline he dishes out. They seem to respond to it, but I cannot help but think that they might respond as well to less harsh training methods. In some ways, he is devoted to them, but I hate the fact that he strikes them during the training."

Ithilden looked away, thinking. "I have been considering commuting all or part of the night duty as a reward for their efforts on the mission," he said. "But I hesitate because it is Legolas, and I do not want to look like I am playing favorites. And also, of course, I do not wish to undercut Maldor's authority with them."

Eilian considered. "If you can get Maldor to do it himself, I think that it will strengthen his position, not undercut it," he said.

Ithilden studied him. "I might be able to do that," he said slowly. "I would have to be at my silver-tongued best," he added wryly.

Eilian laughed. "I have faith in you," he said.

Ithilden regarded him again. "Have you ever considered becoming a novice master?" he asked carefully.

Eilian laughed and tipped his chair back on two legs. "Oh no," he said. "Judging by my experience so far, that would be too much excitement for me."

Ithilden's eyes drifted to Eilian's hand, which was inside his sling rubbing at his injured arm. Seeing the direction of his gaze, Eilian hastily withdrew his hand and rose to go, but Ithilden still had a question.

"Will Legolas be all right, do you think?" he asked.

"Of course," said Eilian surprised. "I think he has weathered the mission and even his near fall quite well."

Ithilden shook his head. "No, I mean will he be successful in the training? Will he be a good warrior?"

Now Eilian was really surprised. "There is no doubt in my mind that he will be," he said. "Our little brother is tougher than we realize sometimes, and I think that he has it in him to be a good captain too, once he has some experience and has gained more confidence in himself." Then he took his leave.

Ithilden managed to work for a while and made some headway in the paperwork that he hated but executed with his customary precision and care. Then the aide poked his head in the door again. "The ceremony for the novices is about to begin," he said. "You wanted me to remind you."

"Thank you," Ithilden said and began neatening up his desk, preparatory to leaving for the ceremony. He had approved of Lómilad's desire to give the youngest novices some public praise. They had had a difficult time and had handled it well. He would attend the ceremony to show that he, too, approved of their behavior.

As he neared the area where the ceremony was to be held, however, he could hear Lómilad speaking in a much sharper than usual voice. "What were you thinking?" he was crying. "Where were your brains?"

Ithilden approached the group. The twenty or so young Elves who were now in various stages of novice training were all lined up next to one of the training fields. Legolas, Annael, Galelas, and Isendir were grouped at one end of the line, and it was they whom the novice master was engaged in reprimanding. As Ithilden neared them, he could see why. All of them had cut, braided, and befeathered their hair in the same way that Tonduil had.

"Get rid of the feathers!" Lómilad was ordering. "And you had better find some way to work that short hair into your other braids before you come near this field again. I will not tolerate this – ." He appeared to grope for an appropriate word. "This haircutting!" he finished.

The novices tugged at the feathers, removing them and handing them over to Lómilad. Ithilden was actually feeling a bit sorry for them when an appalling thought struck him. Valar! What was Thranduil going to say when he saw Legolas?

Ithilden immediately resolved to be out of the palace that evening. He would take Alfirin to visit her parents. They could celebrate Tonduil's choice. Alfirin would like that. And her mother was a healer who could check on her daughter and reassure him that all was well.

Eilian had remained in the area, waiting to watch the ceremony. Now he sidled up to Ithilden. "Do they look odd to you?" he asked.

"Of course they look odd to me!" Ithilden responded in exasperation. "Just look at what the idiots have done to their hair!"

"No, I mean besides that," Eilian persisted. "Do they not look rather –" he paused delicately, "hung over?"

Ithilden blinked and immediately saw that Eilian was right. The four youngest novices all looked as if the light were hurting their reddened eyes. And Lómilad's lecture was definitely making them flinch beyond what he might have expected. They looked ill, a rare phenomenon in Elves, and one whose cause was only too obvious now that Eilian had pointed it out. Now that Ithilden thought about it, Tonduil had had something of the same look about him, but Ithilden had been distracted enough first by his hair and then by his announcement, that he had not registered it.

Ithilden groaned. Yes, tonight would assuredly be a good time for him and Alfirin to visit her parents. Her father had spent the day with Tonduil and would undoubtedly have already said anything he wanted to on the subject of Tonduil's hair or hangover. They would all be ready for pleasantness over evening meal. Thranduil, on the other hand, would be just getting started.

***

Legolas kept a firm grip on Tonduil's arm as they and the other three novices drew near to the cottage that was their destination. Legolas and the others had been waiting for Tonduil near his home at the end of their own long and painful day, for Lómilad had given them one last task and had instructed them to make sure that Tonduil, too, carried it out. "And keep in mind that I will be checking on you," he had said firmly before sending them on their way.

"But I am no longer a novice," Tonduil protested. "I should not have to do this."

"Shut up, Tonduil," growled Galelas. "If we have to this, then so do you."

They stopped in front of the cottage door and glanced at one another. Finally, Annael shrugged and knocked. The door opened and the five of them faced a slim She-elf with light brown hair curling softly around her sweet face. They gaped at her silently for a moment before Legolas remembered his courtly training and found his tongue.

"We are here to see Maldor," he said. "Although, perhaps he is not well enough to have visitors?" he added hopefully. But even before he had finished speaking, their hostess had opened the door wider with a delighted look on her face.

"You must be some of his novices," she cried. "Do come in. Maldor will be so happy to see you."

They squeezed into the hallway in a tight little group and then followed the She-elf into a sitting room where Maldor sat in a large chair near the fire with a blanket draped over his lap. He held a large mug of something hot in his hands and was sniffing at it with a scowl on his face.

"Tinemir, you cannot expect me to drink this foul stuff," he said and then broke off abruptly when he saw the novices.

"Do not be silly," Tinemir responded, hurrying toward him. "Of course you must drink it. Belówen says that you still need to take the antidote for the Orc poison." She kissed him on the top of his head. The novices stood in open-mouthed astonishment.

"But look," Tinemir went on, "you have visitors." She turned and smiled at them. "You just sit down, and I will get some cider and bread and honey. I know how hungry Elves your age always are." And she bustled away into the kitchen.

Maldor and the novices stared at one another in silence. Then suddenly his gaze was caught by the small braid that still dangled at Isendir's temple. In a moment, he swept his eyes over all of them. "What in Arda have you all done to your hair?" he barked.

"Lómilad has already ordered us to get rid of the small braids," Legolas put in hastily, hoping to avert another lecture on the subject. He was deeply grateful that the novice master (and in Tonduil's case, his father) had confiscated the feathers which would undoubtedly have been even more provocative.

"I should think he would," Maldor exclaimed. Whatever else he might have had to say on the subject was cut off when his wife came back in the room with a tray of food and drink. Tonduil moved to take it from her and place it at her direction on a table near the window. She directed them to chairs and then began passing out the plates and cups.

"I must ask," she said to her husband, "is this the group that carried you home after the Orc attack?"

"Yes," he said abruptly. "It is." He looked at them. "Ithilden has been to see me today," he said, "and from what I am told, you all did well. I commend you for your efforts in a difficult situation."

They sat for a moment in stunned silence. Finally, Legolas drew a wobbly breath and spoke. "Thank you," he said.

Maldor turned now to Galelas and Legolas, who happened to be sitting next to one another. "I presume that Lómilad has told you that I have decided that you will be serving one week of night guard duty, rather than two."

They both nodded, a little uncomfortable that their punishment was being discussed here.

"Given that you mended your ways, it is a more appropriate penalty," Maldor said stiffly.

"Thank you," said Legolas again, uncertain if that was an appropriate thing to say.

Tinemir now leaned forward earnestly and spoke to the group. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for what you did. I do not know what I would have done if Maldor had not come home."

Galelas suddenly gave a cough that sounded to Legolas suspiciously like a suppressed snort. Maldor looked at him dryly.

"Tinemir," he said, "I think that these young Elves need to be on their way. I suspect that they have reached the limits of the effort that they can make for today."

"They do look tired," she exclaimed, as they all hastily rose. She escorted them to the door. "Please come and visit again!" she said warmly. "We would be happy to see you any time. We both enjoy having young people around."

They fled down the path and toward their own homes.

***

Carrying his cloak, Legolas entered the family's sitting room in search of Thranduil, but he found only Eilian sitting before the fire. Eilian had an open book in his lap, but he was staring into the fire rather than reading. Legolas was happy enough to find Eilian, for there was something he had been meaning to discuss with him, and he had previously been unable to find the privacy in which to do it.

Eilian looked up as Legolas sat down in the chair opposite him. "How do you feel?" he asked sympathetically.

Legolas grimaced. "Better for having slept a little," he said. "Do you think that Adar realized what the matter was?"

Eilian laughed. "I think that Adar was so preoccupied with telling you what he thought about your hair that he had little energy for noticing anything else," he said. He eyed the hair at Legolas's temple, where the shorter lock had been worked into one of his brother's braids. A few strands had escaped, but on the whole, Eilian judged that Legolas would now pass muster with the several adults who had felt free to comment on his appearance today.

Legolas frowned. He did not think that the fuss over his hair was funny. Moreover, he had hated being reprimanded today while the older novices and both of his brothers watched. He changed the subject to the one he was interested in. "Eilian," he began, "there is something that I wish to speak with you about."

Feeling a little guilty for his amusement, Eilian stopped smiling and regarded him attentively.

"Why have you not told Ithilden that I disobeyed your order to help you untie your arm?" Legolas asked.

Eilian looked uncomfortable. "I should not have asked you to do it," he said apologetically. "I realized afterwards that I was probably trying to take advantage of you when I asked you and no one else to help me. Besides, Thelion was in command, and he was unhappy when he realized that I had been using a bow. I should not have involved you."

Legolas regarded him seriously. "You know that I would obey your orders otherwise, do you not? I could serve under you and do it faithfully. I know that I could."

Eilian answered him with equal seriousness. "I know that you could," he said, "but I am not sure that I could bear to have you along on some of the missions the southern patrol undertakes."

"But I could do it!"

"That is not the question. The question is if I could do it," Eilian persisted. Legolas sighed in obvious exasperation. "Do not worry about this now," Eilian advised him. He smiled faintly. "You have years in which to educate me."

At that moment, their father entered the room, and they both stood. "Good evening, Adar," they chorused. He nodded at them, his eyes going straight to Legolas's hair. Evidently satisfied, he sat down and waved them back toward their seats. Eilian sat again, but Legolas remained standing.

He drew a breath and then said, "I am on my way to see Miriwen, Adar."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at him. When he had chastised Legolas for lying about his whereabouts at night, he had told his son that he could go out, but that he needed to tell Thranduil where he was going. This was the first time that Legolas had tested that rule. "Will you be late?" Thranduil asked him calmly.

"No," Legolas responded, evidently relieved at his father's placid response. "I start a week of night duty tomorrow, so I want to sleep tonight." For a moment, he looked as if he were marveling at something. "Maldor decided that one week on night duty was enough," he said.

Thranduil nodded. "Even in preparing for one week, sleep is advisable," he said, "particularly when one has been foolish enough to consume too much wine." He smiled serenely. "You may go," he added.

Legolas blinked. "Good night, Adar," he said rather weakly and escaped from the room.

Thranduil glanced across at Eilian, who was laughing softly. "Was I as simultaneously annoying and amusing as Legolas is when I was his age?" Eilian asked.

Thranduil snorted. "There are times when you are still as annoying as Legolas is and not nearly so amusing," he said. He regarded his middle son thoughtfully and let his eyes take in the injured arm. "You must take better care of yourself, iôn-nín," he said. "You frighten me, and I would miss you sorely if you were one day to take a risk that was too big."

Eilian rose, crossed to where his father was sitting, and dropped a kiss on his forehead. "I love you too, Adar," he said and grinned impudently.

***

Legolas paused outside the door to Miriwen's cottage, gathered his courage, and knocked. After a moment, Miriwen's father opened the door. "Legolas," he said, more welcoming than Legolas had worried he might be. "Come in." He opened the door invitingly. "We have been hearing about the excitement that the novices encountered on their trip," he continued, as he led Legolas into the kitchen. "I am glad to see you looking so well."

The kitchen looked just as he had remembered it. Miriwen sat at the table with a book open before her. Her mother was taking something fragrant from the oven, while the baby slept peacefully in a cradle in the corner.

"Hello, Legolas," Miriwen greeted him a bit shyly.

"Sit down," her mother invited him. "You have picked a good evening to visit. I have made the seed cakes that you like." She put the warm cakes and a jug of cider on the table, and the four of them sat down. Legolas suddenly realized how much he had missed not only Miriwen herself but also her family.

"Tell us about your trip," Miriwen's father invited, and Legolas did so, although the version that he gave them omitted much.

"We have not had anything as exciting as that happen while you were gone," Miriwen's mother told him when he had finished. "But Miriwen has reached a decision that we are pleased about." She smiled at her daughter, and Legolas looked at her inquiringly.

"I have decided that I want to become a healer like Alfirin's mother," she said bashfully. "I start my training tomorrow."

"That is wonderful," Legolas exclaimed. "You will be very good. You are so sympathetic." She smiled at him, grateful for the praise.

He rose reluctantly. "I must go now," he said. "I have to be up early tomorrow and I suppose that you do too," he added to Miriwen.

"Wait," said her mother. "You should take some of these cakes with you. We have more than enough." She wrapped two of the seed cakes in a napkin and pressed them on him.

Miriwen walked to the door with him and then stood just outside it to say goodnight.

"Miri, may I come to visit you again?" he asked. "I swear to you that I will not ask anything of you beyond your friendship, but I have missed being able to tell you the things that happen to me. And I want to know what you are doing too."

"I would welcome your visits, Legolas," she answered rather primly, "but my naneth said that if you asked, I was to tell you that you may come no more than once a week."

"That would be all right," Legolas said eagerly. He had a feeling that even though his father had given him leave to be out at night, Thranduil would not be happy with his visiting this cottage more frequently than weekly anyway. Oddly enough, he felt reassured by their parents' restrictions. Floundering about on his own had been exciting but daunting.

Miriwen smiled shyly at him. "I am glad to see you again, Legolas," she said. She stretched onto her toes, kissed him on the cheek, and then withdrew into the cottage, closing the door behind her.

As he walked happily along under the stars, it occurred to him that Maldor and Galelas, the two people who managed to get under his skin the most often, had also been the two people who had recently told him things about himself that he would do well to remember.

When he and Maldor had stood their watch together on the novice mission, Maldor had said that he was lucky in his friends, and Legolas knew that that was true. And on the previous evening, Galelas had told him that he was lucky to have Eilian as his brother. That was certainly true too, as it was true that he was lucky to have the rest of his family to fuss over him, and praise him, and discipline him, and love him. His desire to be "just" Legolas now seemed foolish. Being Legolas meant having these other people be part of his life too. And with that, for now, he was content.