Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

A/N: In what may seem to be blatant self promotion, but is in fact simply a melding of some of my ‘invented’ characters, I have decided to write a series of vignettes outlining various events experienced by the two friends, Legolas and Tathar (I introduced the OC, Tathar in my story, “Lost and Found”) from before the Ring War to the day Legolas sailed to Valinor.

For those of you who liked the “King in the Kitchen, Tariel also appears in this story, and I have kept the lovely Elisiel as Thranduil’s wife (from “Family”).

Since Legolas’s age is unknown, I am assuming he was born after the battle of the Last Alliance.

The joyous greetings whispered by the trees lifted some of the despair from the spirits of those who had seen far too many of their number fall in the years of battle it had taken to defeat Sauron. The ache in the heart of the new king was eased by the gentle sounds, giving him renewed strength to face those who waited for loved ones who would not return. It was a bittersweet homecoming for the weary warriors of Greenwood the Great, and tears fell like soft rain as families were reunited or mourned their loss.

Thranduil offered words of comfort to all as he passed through the melancholy crowd, his eyes searching for the two women he so desperately needed to find, finally meeting with the deep sorrow and despair that was a reflection of his own. Seeing arms held out to him, he ran to his naneth as he had often done as a chid, crushing her to him in a grief filled embrace. No words were spoken, for none were sufficient to describe a pain they both felt so deeply. When finally enough tears had been shed, and kisses exchanged to welcome home the living, Thranduil turned to face the one who he sensed stood silently and patiently nearby. Once again he found himself wrapped in loving arms, only this time his spirit soared with elation as he held his beloved close and felt the heart that beat in unison with his against his chest as he had so long desired to do. There was nothing chaste in the way their lips met and their kiss deepened into an expression of their passion and desire with a promise of things to come.

“I do not wish to spoil this moment, my love, but I think that you should speak to Tariel, both she and Imrien will need comforting,” whispered Elisiel when Thranduil finally released her lips. Tariel was the most dearly loved and extremely talented cook in Oropher’s realm and out of his friendship for her son, and duty to her husband, it had fallen to Thranduil to tell her that both now resided in the Halls of Waiting. A task made even more difficult since he must also tell his friend’s wife Imrien, and Tathar, their son of barely ten summers. Thranduil had promised his dying friend that he would watch over them until they were reunited again when the song of Arda was ended.

“Ai, it will be difficult but I must speak with them. Come with me?” he implored, needing the strength of her compassionate spirit and, in all honesty, unwilling to let Elisiel out of his sight. Tariel hugged her grandson close, and Elisiel held the sobbing Imrien in her arms as Thranduil told how his friends had fought bravely, falling as they sought to protect Oropher from the overwhelming enemy. Tears welled unbidden in Thranduil’s eyes as the sweet voice of Tathar enquired innocently when they would be going to Mandos to visit his ada and grandada.

As night fell, and the sky draped itself in its cloak of darkness, the stars slowly appeared their usual brilliance seemingly dulled by grief as they listened to the sound of sweet elvish voices singing a melancholy lament for the dead.

“Although they both grieve deeply for father and son, and beloved husbands, at least Imrien and Tariel will find some comfort in caring for Tathar,” commented Elisiel as she nestled against Thranduil’s chest and listened to the lament. “I suspect the child will look to you as his adar,” she added.

“Ai, I expect he will. I think I like the thought of being a father, and we do need to ensure the survival of our realm by increasing the population,” teased Thranduil with a small smile, guessing where this conversation might be ending.

“That is so impersonal!” declared Elisiel, with fire in her eyes. “A child should be conceived with love, and wanted for his own sake!”

“And so our son shall be this night, if you will let me love you,” whispered Thranduil seductively, his warm breath caressing the tip of Elisiel’s ear, turning the fire of anger into flames of desire.

Legolas was but one of the children to be born that year, and as ecstatic as his parents were at his arrival, Tathar was completely besotted with the babe, declaring to the amusement of all who would listen that he and Legolas were going to be friends forever. Both Elisiel and Imrien sensed it was no idle claim, for the bond of friendship grew quickly between their sons. Thranduil adored his child, but also held a special place in his heart for Tathar and as the years passed by, the two young elves became almost inseparable and at times, impossible!

“Legolas! Tathar! Do not run in the throne room!” demanded Thranduil one day, a moment too late as two swift moving young bodies crashed into him, causing a flutter of papers to fall from his hands as he tried to maintain his balance.

“Sorry, Adar,” said Legolas, trying not to giggle as he and Tathar quickly gathered the scattered documents and handed them back to the King who accepted the documents with a frown that could not last in the presence of the endearing smile that lit his son’s fair face.

“What were you two running from this time? I see no Orcs or spiders in my Hall?” asked Thranduil with mock seriousness, well accustomed to hearing all sorts of imaginative excuses as to why rules needed to be disobeyed.

“Not Orcs or spiders, this time, your Majesty. We were trying to escape grandnana’s wooden spoon,” replied Tathar with the respect of a child several years Legolas’s senior. Even Thranduil had difficulty stifling a laugh at this admission.

“What did you do to earn Tariel’s wrath?” he asked them, clearly remembering being in the same position many years ago. He knew now that she would never have actually used the spoon to enforce discipline, but to a mischievous child such as Thranduil knew he had been, it had seemed a real threat at the time.

“We BOTH took some blueberry tarts from the cooling shelf,” admitted Tathar.

“I see, and since you have none in your possession, I take it you have already eaten them?” asked Thranduil, glancing from one to the other and smiling as they nodded and quickly dropped their eyes in shame at their action.

“Well now, had you saved one for me, I might have been inclined to act in your defence, but…”

“IF there is a next time, and you do so, then I will be forced to discipline all THREE of you,” said a stern voice from the doorway. Tariel entered the room, still wielding her wooden spoon and glared threateningly at Thranduil.

“Of course it is wrong to steal, even from the kitchen, and I expect you both to spend the afternoons until Midsummer assisting Tariel in whatever chores she deems suitable,” decreed Thranduil, quickly assuming a more responsible attitude and bowing slightly to the elder woman, who winked in return to show she was really more amused than annoyed.

As it does for all living things, time marched on and finally the day came when Tathar reached his majority and was assigned to a training patrol where he would learn the skills of a warrior. Although he no longer had his friend’s full attention, and he understood why, Legolas had never felt so alone and so he often stood hidden among the trees on the edge of the clearing used for weapons and fighting practice, watching with pride as his friend developed his skills, and aching to be able to join him.

Legolas had even considered approaching Thranduil, and asking that the King demand his son be allowed to join the patrol, but thought better of it. Tathar would never condone such a request, likely telling the younger elf that he should not use his status as the son of the King for such a purpose. He had but a few years to wait, and so he should practice patience, which was often a desirable quality for a warrior to possess.

To Legolas’s surprise, and delight, Thranduil had somehow discovered the source of his son’s misery, and taken it upon himself to teach him the rudiments of sword fighting and archery. Both father and son enjoyed these times immensely, and often the archery and sword masters were to be found among the spectators the lessons attracted.

“Young Legolas is already a better archer than many of the more experienced warriors, and certainly most of your peers,” the archery master confided to Tathar one day as they stood amongst the crowd as the lesson was drawing to a close. Several pairs of eyes clouded in anger at the perceived insult unnoticed by Tathar as he nodded his agreement.

“Ai, my friend will be a fine warrior and I hope to be serving in his patrol when the time comes,” he said, his words acknowledging that once fully trained, Legolas was likely to be a patrol leader, as was his place as the King’s son.

“So you favour the skills of a mere child over that of your comrades?” one of his fellow trainees asked as the end of the lesson was signalled by a round of applause. Tathar had suffered many taunts for his friendship with Legolas that he had declined to renounce once he had reached his majority. Most elves his age no longer bothered with children as friends, but the bonds of friendship between the two could not be severed, even had he so desired; his heart would not allow it. Legolas was as a brother, and would always be so.

“Legolas has but a few years to reach his majority, and he already has great skill, as the master said,” replied Tathar defensively.

“He is still very young, and extremely fair, even for an Elf, but perhaps that is his appeal? Does he have other skills besides archery?” the other leered causing Tathar’s cheeks to redden as he grasped the implied meaning.

“How dare you speak of Legolas in such a manner? Apologise at once or your words will reach the King’s ears!” threatened Tathar angrily.

“There must be some truth in what you say, see how quickly he angers!” said the first to the other. The words had barely left his lips before Tathar closed them with a well placed fist. His antagonist was much heavier in build, and a far better fighter, as soon became apparent as the brawl continued. Tathar received a heavy blow to the side of his head and fell to the ground only to have his opponent straddle his legs and raise his fist to add a few more punches. Tathar closed his eyes, waiting for the blow that did not fall, opening them when he heard a familiar voice call a halt.

“What is the meaning of this!” demanded Thranduil as he held the wrist of Tathar’s attacker in a vice-like grip and glared at them both. Neither chose to answer, so Thranduil handed the elder elf into the custody of the archery master, and firmly helped Tathar to his feet, placing an arm around his waist to prevent him from falling. Legolas made to take his Adar’s place, but an agonised “NO” in Tathar’s eyes stopped him from doing so.

“I believe I asked a question?” repeated Thranduil, his voice now as cold and hard as steel.

“It was nothing, your Majesty, merely a difference of opinion,” Tathar finally managed to say.

“Judging by the cuts and bruises, it was a rather heated disagreement,” commented the archery master, who had some idea as to the reason, for it was not the first time Tathar and this one had become involved in a fight. He suspected it had something to do with Legolas, but kept his silence.

“Which I trust has been resolved?” asked Thranduil, his words delivered more as a command than a question, apparently satisfied when he two antagonists did not look at each other, but nodded agreement. “Excellent, then I suggest you both take a bath then visit the healer to see if you have any injuries that need to be attended to. I also suggest that such a display of anger and fighting prowess is best used on the enemy, not your kindred,” he added making his thoughts plain to all who had gathered to watch the fight.

Later that evening Legolas joined Tathar in his chambers. The elder elf was already abed, with a bandage across his forehead and several dark purple bruises on his face.

“Are you well?” asked Legolas with concern as he sat on the end of the bed.

“It is just a slight cut which will no doubt be healed in the morning. There is nothing to be concerned about,” replied Tathar with an affectionate smile.

“There most certainly is, I know what caused the argument!” declared Legolas, the fire of anger in his eyes reflected in the redness of his cheeks. “How dare they suggest such a thing?”

“Indeed, especially since I doubt any of them have experienced that of which they were accusing me,” replied Tathar light heartedly.

“How can you jest about this? Are saying they envied you?” asked Legolas with a wicked grin. Tathar raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Your thoughts indicate that you are still very naïve, but be wary mellon nin and be careful of what you say,” he warned. “Have you told the King this?”

“Told me what, Legolas?” asked Thranduil who had heard the last part of the conversation as he entered the room. Legolas quickly recounted what he had heard, watching as anger flashed in his adar’s eyes. Such taunts were common even back when he was in training, and whilst he felt angered by the insult to his son and his friend, he knew the best way to deal with such nonsense was to ignore it. His ire passed quickly to be replaced by genuine affection for the one he addressed.

“So, you were defending my son’s honour?” Thranduil asked with obvious approval.

“As I will always do,” promised Tathar, the fierce look of protectiveness in his eyes painfully reminding Thranduil of the young elf’s father, as he wielded his sword for the last time so many years ago.

“You should cherish such friendship, Legolas and let nothing mar it, especially baseless taunts,” said Thranduil as he kissed first his son’s friend, and then his son, lightly on the brow.

“We are friends forever, and I will defend not only Tathar’s honour, but also his life should the need arise,” declared Legolas as he reached over to grasp his friend’s arm in a warrior’s clasp.

The years until he reached his majority could not pass swiftly enough for Legolas, who spent the time improving his archery skills, occasionally spending a few days hunting with Tathar when his training and patrol duties permitted, and learning more about the King’s court, as was his duty. However, when finally the joyous day arrived there was double cause for celebration for the two friends. Not only was Legolas now allowed to begin his training to become a warrior, but Tathar’s skills as a swordsman, woodsman and leader in the many skirmishes with Orcs and spiders in which he had been involved, had been recognised. The young warrior was promoted to second in command of one of the more experienced border patrols.

That evening there was a feast to mark Legolas’s special day, and as Thranduil escorted Elisiel to her seat at the head table, he bowed respectfully to Tathar who was seated beside Legolas.

“Congratulations, Tathar. You have earned the respect and admiration of my captains, and I am proud of you, as I know your adar would be also,” said Thranduil, clasping the young elf’s arm in the greeting of warriors, acknowledging the strength and confidence with which his gesture was returned.

“Ai, it is indeed good news,” added Legolas, forgoing the handclasp in favour of a brotherly embrace. “However, I must confess to being slightly disappointed,” he added, causing Tathar’s happy smile to fade slightly.

“I was hoping to be assigned to your group for my training missions,” replied Legolas who had just learned that he would be with a patrol that guarded the pathway to the Misty Mountains, whereas Tathar’s patrol scouted far to the north.

“I would have objected, had that been the case,” said Thranduil sternly, surprising them both. He had already made his feelings on the matter known to the captain of the trainees, but had no cause for concern. The very experienced warrior was well aware of the danger and had assigned Legolas accordingly.

“Why?” asked Legolas unable to keep the hurt from his voice at the thought that his adar would even consider interfering in his training.

“Tathar?” asked Thranduil, giving the younger elf a chance to answer, testing his newly gained status. Tathar thought for a few moments, startled at being asked to respond, but quickly allowed his training to take hold. He turned to speak to Legolas.

“Because you and I know each other’s thoughts too well, and have come to rely on each other’s skills. When we hunt together, we do so as a team. You are the expert archer, and I am the swordsman, and we always know exactly what the other will do next. In a battle you need to have all those skills, yet you must also learn how to fight on your own. I will not always be there to defend your back. It is appropriate to act as a part of a group in a planned attack, but what if you are caught alone and unawares? It is a lesson I have learned these past years, and one which may save your life one day,” he explained.

“Well said, Tathar, but there is also the chance that, because of your fierce loyalty, each of you would take unnecessary risks to defend or even rescue the other as well. Do you understand, Legolas?” Thranduil asked gently, not wishing to see his son unhappy.

“Ai, Adar, I suppose I would attempt to rescue Tathar should the need arise, no matter the danger,” he replied honestly, knowing his friend felt the same loyalty towards him.

“Exactly my point, and it would be an irresponsible act to put either of you in that position, at least until you are both more experienced and can understand exactly what risks you are capable of taking,” said Thranduil. Legolas nodded his accord but he was still not entirely convinced of the necessity of such a separation.

“Why the grim faces?” asked Elisiel as she turned from her conversation with Imrien to face her husband and son.

“We were just discussing battle strategy, my love,” replied Thranduil, unable to stop himself from loving her with his eyes. Elisiel blushed prettily, but quickly recovered when a hint of sadness clouded her husband’s face.

“This is supposed to be a joyous occasion, enough talk of battles,” she admonished lightly. They had agreed not to let her newfound yearning to sail West mar Legolas’s day, but Thranduil was finding it difficult to keep his grief from overwhelming him, and they had yet to tell him the ill news. “Come, Legolas, will you not dance with your naneth?” she asked, holding out her hand to her son.

“The dance floor ’tis but a battlefield of a different kind, my lady. Once he is in their midst, the fair maids fight for his attentions,” teased Tathar as Legolas led Elisiel to join in the dance. Thranduil managed to laugh at the quelling look his son gave Tathar, and then nudged the younger elf gently in the ribs.

“Should you not also do your duty towards Imrien?” he asked meaningfully. Tathar nodded and a few moments later he and his naneth were swirling gaily among the dancers.

“It has been too long since we last danced, my Legolas. When did you grow so strong and tall that I have now to look up to see into your eyes?” Elisiel wondered out loud as she ran her hands lightly down arms that had grown muscular from much archery practice.

“If you were to dance with me more often, rather than handing me over to the arms of the young ladies, maybe it would not seem so,” he teased, with a hint of displeasure at her usual habit.

“Am I to be blamed that you have grown as handsome and charming as your Adar? What maid would not wish to capture your heart? Of course, if you prefer to think as a warrior, surely having your heart held captive by such an ‘enemy’ would be a pleasurable, if not desirable experience?” she teased in return, kissing him lightly on a slightly reddened cheek to hide his embarrassment from onlookers.

“Perhaps that is so, but it is not a battle in which I wish to engage at this time,” he told her sternly, returning her kiss to take the sting from his words. Elisiel sensed the seriousness in his tone and changed the subject slightly.

“As you wish, you surely know your own heart, however does Tathar know his?” she asked as they watched Imrien and her son dance past, laughing gaily.

“What do you mean?” asked Legolas warily, easily recognising the slightly mischievous tone in his naneth’s voice.

“I mean, has he not noticed that Mirieth has eyes only for him?” she asked, inclining her head in the direction of the maid who was also watching Tathar’s every move.

Legolas followed the direction of her gaze, recognising the fair haired beauty who was often joined him among the spectators at the practice field. Most of the trainees, including Tathar thought it was Legolas she favoured, although he had not gained that impression. Legolas had spoken to her on several occasions, mostly answering her questions about the dangers of weapons practice or who he favoured to win the next tournament. She always asked after Tathar as well, and in fact he recalled that Tathar had more than once commented on her beauty. Elisiel laughed when he told her of this.

“You have reached your majority this day, but you are still naïve in matters of the heart. It should be obvious that they are attracted to one another, perhaps all they need is a little nudge to bring them closer?” she suggested. “Imrien tells me they both are really quite shy.”

Legolas favoured his naneth with a disapproving look for indulging in such gossip, but Elisiel merely smiled, took her son by the hand and led him to Mirieth. He was neither shy nor had he any intention of allowing Elisiel to speak either for him or Tathar, and so gallantly asked the maid to dance, as he was expected to do. Mirieth had no choice to accept as her Queen smiled encouragingly at her, giving her unspoken approval.

“What are you planning, my love?” Thranduil whispered into Elisiel’s ear as he walked up behind her, startling her as she watched Legolas dance.

“Not a match for our son, if that is what you would accuse me of trying to make, although I would like to see that day before I….” her words were silenced by Thranduil’s lips as he kissed her deeply.

“This is not the time to speak of that. Allow us all to enjoy this night, the day for tears will be here all too soon,” he said, crushing her to him to hide the deep despair in his eyes just as Legolas looked their way. He smiled at his parent’s open display of affection, not realising the deep sorrow that lay hidden beneath the surface..

At Imrien’s request, Tathar escorted her back to the table and politely asked Tariel if she would also like to dance. The elder elf graciously declined, and as he turned to seek another partner, the young warrior froze in place as Legolas danced by, whispering into Mirieth’s ear and holding her far too close for Tathar’s liking.

A momentary flash of anger crossed his face, and Tathar felt his heartbeat racing as he quickly excused himself and left the glade where the feast was being held, seeking the cool darkness of the forest. He has never before experienced such a strange reaction, and was shocked to realise that in that moment, he actually felt hatred towards Legolas. The intensity of the feeling shocked him and he sought solace against the soothing trunk of one of the trees. As he sat there allowing the gentle hum of the tree’s voice reverberate through him, the thought came unbidden to his mind that it was not hatred, but jealousy he felt. His dark thoughts took hold of his reason, fuelling his jealousy into rage once more. It was obvious that the one he loved preferred Legolas, so would he now be left alone to die of grief as he had heard sometimes happened to elves?

“Tathar, what are you doing out here?” asked Legolas as he quietly approached his friend. The concern in his voice did little to dispel the unfounded jealousy Tathar felt, and he lashed out with words.

“Go away, Legolas! We have nothing to say to each other!” he shouted angrily, standing to face the younger elf who was astonished at his friend’s reaction, at the fear and rage in his eyes.

“Obviously I have done something to upset you, mellon nin. Please tell me what?” Legolas asked, taking a step closer and shocked to see Tathar take a step back, as if he could not bear to be anywhere near his young friend. Tathar eyed him warily and his eyes still flashed angrily, so Legolas took a step backwards as well, to indicate he meant no harm.

“I saw you dancing with Mirieth,” Tathar said coldly, as if that explained all, when it actually explained very little to Legolas’s way of thinking.

“As you have done many times over the years, why should that anger you so tonight?” Legolas asked, suddenly realising that it was not anger, but jealousy that had hardened Tathar’s heart towards him.

“You know I am fond of her, and you can have your choice of any of the others, so why did you have to choose her? How could you betray me like this?” he asked his voice now filled with despair.

“I am not in love with her, nor any other maid. You know I would confide in you if I were, just as you know I would never betray you. I was simply dancing with her as my naneth requested. In fact, had you not behaved so childishly and run off, you would now be dancing with her yourself!” stated Legolas, angered at Tathar’s sudden lack of trust.

“What do you mean?” asked Tathar, his rage and jealousy disappearing quickly as he saw how he had hurt his dear friend, to be replaced by shame at his foolish and hurtful words. Legolas had spoken nothing but the truth.

“I had just convinced her that you were more than a little interested in her affections, and was bringing her to you when you disappeared into the night. It was an extremely poorly timed exit on your part,” explained Legolas somewhat more calmly, daring to approach and place a comforting arm around Tathar who was now looking decidedly miserable. “Mirieth loves you, not me. How could you think I would knowingly stand in the way of your happiness?”

“It was unworthy of me to accuse you of such a thing. It seems that warrior though I have become, I have not yet learned to conquer my own feelings when it comes to matters of the heart. I am so sorry I doubted your intentions, mellon nin. Can you forgive me?” implored Tathar as he locked eyes with his friend, sighing with relief at the forgiveness and compassion he saw there. He groaned slightly as a mischievous light brightened Legolas’s eyes, and he wondered what price he would be forced to pay for his folly.

“I will accept your apology if you promise to march straight back to the feast, ask Mirieth to dance, and state your affections for her in no unmistakeable manner,” declared Legolas, smiling at the fear such an act apparently inspired in his friend.

“What do you consider to be ‘unmistakeable manner’, mellon nin?” asked Tathar curiously, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Of course! Your intentions towards her are entirely honourable, are they not?” enquired Legolas, enjoying his friend’s discomfort somewhat.

“Ai, most assuredly, but surely you do not mean in full view of all?” Tathar asked, now looking absolutely petrified.

“Ai, I do. A kiss such as the one everyone just witnessed between my parents,” said Legolas smiling as his shy friend turned pale at the thought of such a display. “Take courage, my brave warrior, Naneth says that having your heart captured is a pleasant experience, and I promise not to try and rescue you,” he teased as he placed a brotherly kiss on Tathar’s brow.

Barely a year later Tathar and Mirieth announced their betrothal to the delight of all.

“Surely a young warrior such as you have become requires more than an apple for breakfast?” Elisiel asked Legolas in an attempt to coax a few words from her son. He had just returned from his first ‘real’ patrol on the outskirts of Mirkwood, and it was obvious by his unusual silence and the slight frown he seemed to be constantly wearing that something was troubling him.

“I am not hungry, thank you, Naneth,” he replied as he stared distractedly across the sunlit courtyard. Elisiel exchanged a worried glance with Thranduil, who reached over to take Legolas’s chin in his hand and gently turned his son’s face to his.

“What happened while you were away to cause you such anguish?” he asked releasing Legolas’s chin, but maintaining eye contact. “I know you killed your first Orc, is that what is haunting you?” Legolas shook his head and allowed a small smile to curl the corners of his mouth. There was no hiding anything from his adar.

“Ai, something is haunting my thoughts, but it is not the killing. My training and the others in my group helped me to deal with that,” he replied. “I sense some kind of dark evil that lingers in my dreams and causes my blood to chill with fear. It is very slowly growing stronger, and I dread the nameless danger that is to come.”

“I have heard that something has taken up residence in Dol Guldur, and intend to increase patrols in that area. It is the Shadow in the south that whispers to you, as it does to many of us in Greenwood,” explained Thranduil, sensing that Sauron’s ghost was only part of that which haunted Legolas’s dreams. “There are dark times ahead, even darker than you can imagine,” he added as he gripped Elisiel’s hand.

“It is time he was told, my love,” she whispered softly, but not soft enough. Thranduil reluctantly nodded his agreement and turned away to hide the tears that filled his eyes at the knowledge of how deeply his son was about to be hurt.

“Time I was told what?” asked Legolas, suddenly feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the Shadow.

“It is such a lovely day, will you walk with me in the forest, Legolas?” asked Elisiel suddenly, hiding her sorrow from her son as only a mother can as she took his hand.

By unspoken agreement, they walked silently and headed for their special place, the ‘magical’ wishing pool of his childhood, where monsters were banished, and many pleasant days had been spent in his naneth’s company as they made floral crowns, or waited for the stars to awaken. Aside from a maid on one or two rare occasions, Legolas had not shared this place with any one, except Tathar.

The young elf sat resting his back against the trunk of one of the trees that bordered the glade, and knew without doubt that he was about to hear some ill news as Elisiel sat close beside him and lay her head on his shoulder. Legolas placed his arm about her shoulder and held her as she spoke.

“I will tell you all you wish to know, but please do not interrupt for what I have to say is very difficult.” Legolas nodded and taking a deep breath as if to draw courage from the air itself, Elisiel told her tale.

“Several months before you reached your majority, your adar and I visited Imladris. While we were there an unfortunate incident occurred. Celebrían had taken Arwen to Lothlórien, so that whilst Lord Elrond and Thranduil were involved in their talks, I was left to find my own amusement. I was wandering around Elrond’s library, looking for something to read, when my eye was caught by a display of seashells. There were many different shapes and sizes, some being so delicately thin to be almost transparent in the morning sun, and others reflecting all the colours of the rainbow from their pearly surfaces. However, there was one large one that seemed to be calling my name.

Almost against my will, I felt the desire to pick it up and hold it closer to my ear to better hear the sweet voice of the sea as it whispered to me, begging me to follow. As I closed my eyes, I saw the beauty of Valinor, felt the warm salty breeze that promised unending days of carefree pleasure. In that instant my heartbeat started racing and my blood began to sing with a yearning that I knew would force me to take sail. My reverie was interrupted when Thranduil angrily tore the shell from my hand and threw it to the floor, the stone tiles causing it to shatter into small pieces.

The shell was broken, but the spell was not and the longing remains. I am slowly fading, my sweet child. I must sail West as soon as possible,” she said shifting so that she could see her son’s thoughts.

“You are leaving Adar and me? Do you not love us enough to stay and fight this?” asked Legolas, his immaturity very apparent in the face of his anguish. There was such pain in his voice and despair in his eyes that Elisiel’s heart broke again as it had when she told Thranduil.

“You know how much I love you, Legolas, but do you not understand that I have used up all my strength to stay here this long? Do you not see my light is dimming day by day? Would you have me fade away before your eyes?” The words were harsh, but she had to make him realise what was at stake. Legolas crushed her to him, sobbing uncontrollably.

“No, I do not wish that, but what will I do without you?” he asked, no longer a warrior, just a grieving son about to lose the being most precious to him. He dearly loved Thranduil, but the bond forged between mother and son was very strong and incredibly special.

“You will always remember that I am merely waiting for you in a beautiful place, and you will be a strong and great comfort to your adar, who is in desperate need of you,” she answered as she gently stroked his hair until the tears subsided. “My song will sing to you both, no matter how far we are apart.”

As they walked back the palace, Legolas’s heart break turned to anger at Thranduil.

“Why did Adar not insist that Lord Elrond try to heal you?” he asked Elisiel who smiled as she recalled the rest of the incident.

“Oh, he did, and rather angrily at that, but when told there was none, I am afraid he and Elrond exchanged some rather harsh and insulting words. I did not hear it all, for dear Erestor saw that I was not well, and escorted me to my room and gave me a small glass of miruvor. He laughingly assured me that they would not come to blows for he had left Lord Glorfindel in charge of the ‘debate’ that was raging in the study. Nevertheless, we left Imladris not long after your adar returned, declaring his friendship with Elrond to be over.”

“No wonder they are not on speaking terms,” said Legolas who had often wondered how the rift between Imladris and Greenwood had come about.

“Only until Thranduil makes his peace as he has promised to do on his return from Mithlond,” said Elisiel. “I will make sure I speak to Glorfindel when we arrive, and ask him to act as mediator.” Sadness descended like a cloud once more as her words stabbed at the open wound in his heart.

“I think I should go to Adar alone,” he said as they reached the bridge. Elisiel nodded, and reached up to kiss both his cheeks, sending him to Thranduil with a sad smile.

In the privacy of his study, the King and his son embraced each other and allowed their tears of grief to flow freely, neither able to voice the sorrow that each could nonetheless feel spread to the very deepest parts of their souls.

Later that day, Legolas returned to the pool to grieve on his own and reflect on the changes that were occurring in his life. He idly selected pebbles and skipped them across the pool, and he allowed his thoughts to wander. As happy as he was for Tathar and Mirieth, he missed the company of his friend, who was always either away on patrol, or courting his lady. Of course he had other friends, but Legolas missed the closeness of the one he considered a brother. Elisiel’s news had only served to make him feel even more alone and he felt as if all those he loved were slowly leaving him.

“Adar and I will never be separated!” he declared defiantly to the afternoon sun, angrily throwing the rest of the pebbles into the pool.

“Not even should Middle-earth once again find itself at war?” asked a familiar voice from behind him. Legolas stood and smiled sadly at Tathar.

“Not even then!” he said as he stepped forward to clasp his friend’s arm in the greeting of warriors.

“What, no embrace for me?” teased Tathar, pulling Legolas into a hug before he had a chance to respond. “No one, not even the Lady Galadriel can see all futures,” he reminded Legolas. “What are you doing out here, should you not be at training?”

“I have just returned from my first mission, and have been granted leave for the day. I came here to think,” he said casting his eyes downward in despair. “What brings you here?”

“I, too have just returned from the north, and find that Mirieth is otherwise occupied, so I came looking for you. I was told you had come this way, and what do I find but my friend sitting here, skipping stones across the pool with some force and feeling sorry for himself, judging by your words,” said Tathar lightly, having no idea as to the real reason Legolas why sought solitude.

“You know naught of what I feel,” hissed Legolas unable to keep the tears from his eyes. Tathar sensed something was seriously amiss, and immediately regretted his words.

“What has happened, mellon nin?” he asked gently, unable to keep the shock from his face as Legolas told him of his sorrow.

“I am not sure when she is leaving, but I think it is soon,” he said as he finished speaking.

“The Queen leaves the day after tomorrow,” said Tathar with certainty, drawing his friend into another comforting embrace.

“Nay, my patrol has been assigned to guard the King and Queen on a journey to Imladris in two days hence,” affirmed Tathar. He thought it wise not to mention that Legolas was not included in the travel arrangements.

Legolas soon found out when they returned to the palace, and he was comforted to find Tathar waiting for him in his chambers after Thranduil and Elisiel told their son he was to be permitted to travel only as far as the border of the forest. Tathar listened and offered sympathetic words as Legolas vented his fury and frustration, refusing to listen to reason even when Tathar tried several times to explain that it was out of love for their son, and because of their fear that he might too become afflicted with the sea longing should he reach the Havens that had prompted their decision.

“Calm down, Legolas!” Tathar ordered loudly, finally tired of the tirade. “Behave like the adult you claim to be and accept that which you can not change. There is no shame in grief, but try and see this from your parent’s view. It is you alone they are trying to protect, surely you will not mar their love for you with hurtful words?”

“It is so hard…”, said a defeated Legolas as he slumped despondently into one of his armchairs.

“Consider that it is even harder for them. I have never seen tears in the King’s eyes before, nor the Queen’s face bereft of a smile…their hearts are breaking too.”

After Tathar left him, Legolas took heed of his words and spent the last days doing his best to appear less grief stricken, even managing to make Thranduil and Elisiel laugh as they reached the path where their ways parted.

“Find yourself a love to share your song, and then you will never be alone.” Elisiel had suggested.

“I think that Mirieth has taken charge of that task, Naneth,” he replied with a small smile. “Fortunately she seems not to have found anyone she considers worthy of my affections as yet.”

“You will change your mind when the time comes, although it will certainly be difficult to find one as lovely as your Naneth,” added Thranduil. “I will see you on my return, Legolas.”

“Will not the sea also call to you, Adar?” he asked, suddenly more afraid for Thranduil than himself.

“I have seen the sea, but my love for the forest is far too deep to allow such a hold on me. I will leave these shores one day, but not yet,” he answered, pleased to see relief cross his son’s face.

“Namarie, my sweet child, my brave warrior,” said Elisiel as she felt the strong arms of her son enfold her for the last time.

“Namarie, Naneth,” he whispered, kissing her tenderly on the cheek. He watched until they disappeared from view, then rode swiftly back through the forest until he reached the wishing pool.

Night had fallen by the time he arrived, and Legolas greeted each star whose reflection shone from the inky black surface with a fervent wish that Elisiel would change her mind.

It was not to be and Legolas never visited the pool again whilst he remained in Greenwood.

“Legolas! Is that really you?’ exclaimed Tathar as he greeted his young friend who had travelled to meet Thranduil’s party beneath the eaves of Greenwood on their return from Imladris. They had been gone only a few brief months, but in that time sorrow and something Tathar could not quite define had changed Legolas.

“Of course it is I. Surely you have not been gone so long that you would forget me?” he replied with a puzzled expression.

“Nay, but you have a very different air about you. Do you not see it, your Majesty?” he asked turning to Thranduil who was also studying his son’s countenance. The hint of sorrow that now took a slight edge from the usual brilliance in his eyes was unmistakeable, yet not unexpected for Thranduil’s eyes mirrored the feeling they shared. However, there was also a more mature and even slightly regal lustre there as well, and for the first time Thranduil sensed a touch of his own majesty in his son, and his heart was filled with joy.

“Many of your subjects have made similar comments, for in your absence your son has handled the task of ‘king’ very well,” explained Thranduil’s Steward, a dear and trusted friend of uncountable years.

“You let *him* take charge of the Greenwood?” Tathar asked the elder elf in mock disbelief, causing both Thranduil and his Steward to laugh.

“It was the King’s son’s place to do so, and he performed the task with the skill and responsibility one would expect,” affirmed the Steward, showing a little more respect than he believed Tathar did.

“My lord Steward, at the insistence of the lady Tariel and the Captain of the guard, decided I needed something to help take my mind from Naneth’s departure,” Legolas said, with more than a little affection for the elder elves who had taken care of him in his adar’s absence. Dealing with the matters of court had been exactly what he needed, and he had embraced the responsibility with fervour and every intention of making Thranduil proud. He had been certain it was what his naneth would have wished, and the pride in his adar’s eyes confirmed it had been the best thing he could have done, despite what Tathar thought.

“A shame really,” said Tathar, shaking his head and continuing in his jesting tone. “I assume your newfound maturity and sense of responsibility will prevent you from taking part in a little wager I made with Lord Elrond’s sons?” he asked Legolas with a sigh of resignation.

“Nay, if the honour of Greenwood needs defending, who better than the King’s son to do so?” asked Legolas who had brightened visibly at his friend’s words, and was obviously very interested in finding out more. Thranduil, on the other hand, was not.

“When I returned from Mithlond, Elrond warned me that my guards and his sons had become well acquainted and were likely up to some mischief. If that is the case, I prefer not to hear the details. Come, let us make haste and return to my Hall,” he said to his Steward. “I fear I must quickly send Elrond a suitable bottle of wine as a peace offering for the trouble that no doubt lies ahead. It would be most distressing if the bond of our renewed friendship was tested so soon,” he said, not entirely in jest. He had done as Elisiel asked and apologised for his unwarranted anger at his friend of old, but knew full well that it was possible that a conflict arising from their sons’ youthful exuberance could easily put them at odds again.

Legolas and Tathar merely grinned at each other, and followed at a far more leisurely pace so that they could discuss the Tathar’s trip to Imladris, and the wager, well out of the King’s hearing.

“First tell me how it is you met Elladan and Elrohir? Did they go to the Havens with you?” asked Legolas with false bravado at the mention of the reason for the journey.

“Nay, only the King and Queen, and Lord Glorfindel made the journey. The King’s Guard were ordered to await your adar’s return at Imladris,” Tathar explained with a great deal of compassion in his voice. Legolas raised his eyebrows in surprise at this information, but made no comment. “Lord Elrond’s sons had only just returned from a scouting trip with some of the rangers and had seen the Queen kiss me goodbye. They mistakenly assumed that I was you,” he said, scoffing at the mistake.

“We have never met, so it would have been a natural assumption,” said Legolas with a shrug.

“So you have become a diplomat as well?” teased Tathar, earning himself a decidedly undiplomatic glare from his friend. “That could be to our advantage when we win,” he added thoughtfully.

“Ai, and for good measure, Lothlórien as well. Elladan and his brother are arranging for some of the archers from the Golden Wood and Imladris to meet us on the Gladden Fields. Before you ask, the stakes are naught but the pleasure of forcing them to bow to our superior skill,” explained Tathar, full of confidence that Legolas alone could easily defeat the others if need be.

“The Gladden Fields? I do not believe either Adar or Lord Elrond would approve of that location, it is said that there are many small groups of Orcs roaming in those parts. The reports our scouts in the south have made confirm that several of the human villages have been attacked lately,” warned Legolas.

“I know. Similar reports have reached Imladris, and it is likely that Lord Celeborn would also not approve, but even if we are attacked, what better way to hone our fighting skills? There is no cause for concern, there will be many skilled warriors present,” argued Tathar, not expecting so much resistance to his plan, at least from Legolas.

“I still think it unwise, and how are we to convince Adar to allow us to go?” Legolas asked, knowing the King would likely forbid such a dangerous ‘amusement’.

“Lord Elrond informed him of the unrest in the south, and he plans to send several parties to warn the Beornings and the villages on our own borders. My patrol group will be one of those, all we need do is convince him that you are ready to join me,” Tathar said with a wicked wink.

“Surely you do not suggest I attempt to deceive the King?” asked Legolas, discomfited by the thought that his friend intended to be less than honest. It seemed that Tathar was changing too, and in a manner in which Legolas was not pleased to see.

“I doubt that you could, but you do need more experience on patrol. What harm is there in planning to meet scouts from other realms?” he asked.

Thranduil initially resisted the notion strongly, until Tathar persuasively pointed out that, since Legolas’s recent experience had earned him the respect of his elders, perhaps the time was right for him to join the more experienced scouting party.

“Very well, I will permit it,” Thranduil finally agreed. “But be warned, Tathar, I sense there is more to this mission than you have told me. You will find me very unforgiving should Legolas or the others be placed in unnecessary danger,” he said sternly.

Unfortunately, Thranduil’s suspicions were well founded and the event turned out to be far more dangerous that even the King had anticipated.

The elves from Greenwood were the last to arrive, for Elladan and Elrohir had decided to personally issue the challenge to Haldir and Orophin, Lothlorien’s champion archers from the last tournament held in the Golden Wood.

“We will represent Imladris,” Elladan said to Tathar, indicating himself and his brother. “No doubt you and Legolas wish to do likewise for Greenwood?” he asked after introductions had been made.

“By all accounts, the pretty young prince should be able to best us all,” Orophin sneered.

“Ai, his reputation as a skilled archer has reached Lothlórien,” agreed Haldir as he glared at his brother who was well able to read the rebuke for such disrespectful words in the ice cold hardness of Haldir’s eyes.

“It is easily demonstrated,” said Legolas with an air of superiority, so confident was he in his own prowess. “Shall we set the targets?”

The six archers who were to compete soon agreed on the course, and the others in their respective parties eagerly gathered on the edge of the field to offer their support. The elves from Imladris who had travelled to meet their Lord’s sons were disappointed to find Elladan and Elrohir were the first to be eliminated. The chagrin spread to the others as both Tathar and Orophin were eliminated shortly thereafter. However, there was no dispute about the fact that Legolas and Haldir were well matched, and clearly highly skilled. The scores were tied right until the last and most difficult of the targets were approached, and although Haldir accounted for himself well and missed only one, Legolas scored a perfect round. There was much cheering from the Greenwood patrol, and even a decent round of applause from the others who were pleased to see such skilful shooting.

By the time the competition was over, twilight had fallen, and the victors invited the vanquished to join in a typical woodland celebration. A large fire was lit in the centre of the field, and to everyone’s delight Elladan and Haldir had displayed presence of mind by bringing a supply of wine. As the stars rose to join them, the elves of the three realms indulged in a feast of lembas, fruit and wine as well as much merrymaking and tall tale telling.

None of the patrols had encountered so much as one Orc on their journey, and this knowledge, combined with the skill of the warriors present, imbued such a feeling of safety that not even the more experienced elves in the group deemed it necessary to set a watch. Such underestimation of danger proved to be a serious mistake for a large band of Orcs came upon them as they laughed and sang around the fire.

The elves were severely outnumbered, and despite their training, many of the warriors were injured before the battle was finally won. To Tathar’s dismay, Legolas had been slashed by a poisoned blade as he tried to defend his friend who had been knocked to the ground by a hard blow to the head. As Legolas had bent down to see if Tathar was harmed, he lost his concentration on the fight, and was easy prey for the Orc’s sword. Tathra saw the danger and pulled Legolas to the ground, preventing the blow from being fatal, but not from slashing a large gash down the younger elf’s arm.

“THIS is why the King would not permit us to train together,” he hissed the other Greenwood elves formed a protective circle around the King’s son and his friend. Tathar’s head ached, so he just lay there and held Legolas’s arm still until Elladan was free to come and bind the gash with a bandage coated in a medicinal herb he used as an antidote for Orc poison. Fortunately Elrond’s sons had learned sufficient about the art of healing to prevent the vile substance from spreading, as well as treat a blow to the head, but Tathar knew he needed to see his friend and his injured comrades safely back in Greenwood, and with their own Healer, as soon as possible.

“Do you think Adar is going to be very angry with us?” whispered Legolas through teeth gritted with pain as Tathar, who had already mounted his horse, helped the injured elf up in front of him.

“I am sure he will be angry with me, but not you. It was my idea to come here,” replied Tathar grimly.

“Well, at least we won the tournament,” said Legolas managing a small smile before he drifted into unconsciousness.

“You won it, mellon nin,” whispered Tathar as he held Legolas tightly and urged his horse to go faster.

In fact, when the scouting party returned home, Thranduil was so furious with Tathar that he refused him permission to visit Legolas as he lay confined to his bed by the Healer. Never before had the halls of the palace echoed with words spoken in such anger between the King and the son of his friend, and although Legolas had heard of the discord, he was dismayed to learn that Tathar had been assigned to a mission in the north that would likely keep him from Greenwood for at least a year.

“You took a great risk coming here. If Adar catches you in my room, you might find yourself locked in the dungeon instead of merely banished to the north,” whispered Legolas as Tathar entered his chamber from the balcony, determined to see that his friend was well before he left.

“I know, and I should have heeded your advice about the tournament as well. I am ashamed of my behaviour, because of the untruth I told the King, but more so because I have diminished my standing in Thranduil’s eyes,” he said sadly.

“I am afraid you have hurt Adar deeply. Just as I consider you to be my brother, you are like a second son to him, I have always known it to be so,” said Legolas. “Do not give in to despair, for I also know that, in time, he will forgive you, just as he will forgive me although he is currently adamant that we will never serve together,” said Legolas.

“The King is angry with you? Why?” Tathar asked as he sat by the bedside and clasped his friend’s uninjured arm.

“Because I was party to the deception, and allowed you to sway me with your words against my better judgement. And because I was injured in the attack, and he feared he would lose me,” explained Legolas.

“I see. Well, it is likely he will not stay angry with you for long, as you say. Please take care of Mirieth for me while I am gone?” he entreated.

“Ai. I will miss you and I will look for your safe return,” said Legolas smiling affectionately at his friend.

Legolas put the time he was confined to bed to good use, contemplating long and hard about his and Tathar’s behaviour, and their very different plans for the future. Tathar was soon to be wed, and Legolas’s immediate goal was to win back his adar’s trust and respect, and he decided that an apology would be the first step.

“Adar, I wish to apologise for my part in Tathar’s plans. I am ashamed that I attempted to deceive you so, and I should never have allowed his words to convince me otherwise,” Legolas said humbly as he and Thranduil sat beneath the shade of the entwined leaves that formed a thick canopy above them that allowed in only a small amount of dappled sunlight. The circular stand of trees was one of Legolas’s favourite places in the forest, and he had decided to share it with his adar.

As predicted, Thranduil was unable to maintain his anger at his son. The fear of losing him that had gripped his rational thoughts passed quickly, leaving only his love for his son, and their shared grief. Elisiel’s absence was still like an open wound, yet both adar and son could hear her song in their dreams, and felt the contentment in the bittersweet notes of a melody that was also tinged with a hint of melancholy.

“Ai, you should not have allowed his words to sway you but I must admit it is really not unexpected. I have not told you this before, but Tathar’s adar and I were often at odds with King Oropher,” he confided in an astounded Legolas. “In fact, there was one time I recall that seems slightly similar to recent events,” he added his eyes alight with mischief as he relived the memory. Legolas waited expectantly for the rest of the story, but Thranduil remained silent. Finally Legolas’s impatient curiosity prevailed and he asked for an explanation. For the space of several heartbeats Thranduil looked as if he was seriously considering denying the request, but finally he told his tale.

“There is not much to say about it, other than we were practicing swordplay one afternoon, when the combined armies had stopped to take rest on the march to Mordor. We noticed that Elrond and some of his warriors had stopped to watch and spoke poorly of our technique. I freely admit that I am more skilled with the bow than the sword, but Tathar’s adar was an excellent sword fighter, and he deliberately made it appear that he was far less skilled than even the others were saying, then promptly challenged Elrond to a contest.

Now the Peredhel is also extremely highly skilled with the sword, and it was an excellent contest that ended unfortunately when he slightly miscalculated and deeply slashed Tathar’s adar across the chest. It was a terrible wound and took more than a day to heal fully. Both Kings were furious at such irresponsibility from their warriors, and such contests were promptly forbidden. In private, King Oropher reprimanded Tathar’s adar and I, for he knew we had instigated the challenge, by deed if not words, and his anger with us that time lasted several days,” said Thranduil, a shadow of sadness passing across his face as reflected silently on the losses during that war.

“I think Tathar would like to hear this story, it seems we are both quite like our adars in some ways,” commented Legolas, eliciting a look of pride from Thranduil, who apparently liked the idea immensely. “Will you tell him when he returns?”

“Ai, only I hope it does not give him any unwanted ideas,” teased Thranduil.

“Speaking of unwanted ideas, can you not ask Tariel to leave Mirieth and I alone once in a while?” begged Legolas who spent much of the time Tathar was away patrolling the western outskirts of the forest, but when he was home, did as he had promised his friend, and kept Mirieth company, usually with Tariel as an unnecessary chaperone.

“She is another who openly defies me when it suits her to do so, what makes you think she will do as I ask?” he enquired still laughing with his eyes. They had left the forest to make their way back just in time for the noon meal. Seeing Mirieth and Tariel already seated, Thranduil and Legolas walked over and joined them, saying nothing as the two ladies were involved in a slightly heated conversation.

“We are naught but good friends, my lady,” Mirieth told her elder loudly, tired of feeling as if her every move was being watched.

“Ai, I know, and there is no need to raise your voice. Legolas honours you as a friend who is betrothed to another, and would never betray Tathar’s trust, but I know something of how envious young Elves, and especially maidens, think. I intend to make certain there is absolutely no question of anyone accusing either of you of impropriety,” she explained patiently.

“I think you just wish to keep Legolas to yourself and away from his would-be suitors, Tariel,” teased Thranduil finally deciding to enter in the conversation.

“Well he is both the most handsome and charming Elf in Greenwood,” replied Tariel coyly, covering Legolas’s hand with hers and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Of course, had you not sent his friend away, there would be no need for us to spend time together,” she added slyly, trying to gauge Thranduil’s current attitude towards her grandson.

“Not that I need explain my actions to you, nor anyone else,” began Thranduil in a tone that was less harsh than his words, “but the northern borders, to which Tathar’s group is normally assigned, required closer monitoring. In the past months I have received reports of many raids by orcs, and even a band of Easterlings, on one occasion.”

“It sounds like a dangerous place to be,” whispered Mirieth to Legolas, who placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, ignoring Tariel’s glare as Mirieth rested her head on Legolas’s shoulder. “No fresh blueberry tarts for me this evening,” he thought, judging by the elder lady’s countenance.

“More dangerous for the orcs, I think given Tathar’s current state of mind,” he replied. Mirieth nodded her understanding.

“Ai, Tathar felt so guilty that you were injured and was so enraged at the foul creatures who attacked you, that I wager he is determined to seek revenge. He is a fearsome warrior,” she said proudly.

“Who is not even afraid of his King’s wrath,” added Thranduil with a disapproving tone of voice. “Let us hope that he returns unharmed, and with a far more responsible attitude.”

“So you have forgiven him?” asked Tariel, easily reading the meaning in Thranduil’s words.

“Ai, both he and Legolas are back in my good graces,” answered the King with an affectionate smile for his son. “I am not heartless, after all I have made certain he is to be back in plenty of time to prepare for the wedding,” he added with a wink at Mirieth, who cast her eyes aside as she blushed prettily.

“Until he does, you can expect me to be close by,” Tariel said to Mirieth and Legolas.

Tathar and his scouting party returned several weeks later, and after a brief but loving reunion with Mirieth, he marched directly to the throne room to make his peace with Thranduil. He had barely passed the doorway when he found himself enfolded in the warm and friendly embrace of Legolas.

“Welcome home, mellon nin,” he exclaimed happily as Tathar returned the embrace in kind. “I smell Mirieth’s favourite scent, so you did not come here first?” asked Legolas, pouting in a very child like manner, feigning jealousy until mirth caused him to express his true feelings.

“It is good to see that you have returned safely,” he added in a more serious tone.

“I am pleased to be here, and to see you fully recovered. Between you and me, had I not seen Mirieth first, there might not have been a wedding in the near future. We have been apart what seems like an age to me,” he added regretfully.

“I understand,” replied Legolas for he had grown quite fond of Mirieth’s company, and was realising that his naneth’s parting advice to find himself a wife may actually have some merit.

“I had better make my apologies to the King before I lose the courage to do so,” said Tathar, sounding intimidated, yet acting anything but as he approached the throne and bowed gracefully to the King. “Upon reflection during my time away, I see that I owe you a most sincere apology, and I ask that you reconsider allowing Legolas and me to serve in the same patrol in the near future,” he requested with a polite bow.

“I accept your apology, and will consider your request, but not until after your wedding,” responded Thranduil as he stood and quickly embraced Tathar in a fatherly fashion.

The wedding day was soon upon them, and was the first really joyous event in Greenwood since before the Queen had sailed West. It was as if a heavy mist had been lifted, and even Thranduil was seen dancing among the merrymakers once the singing and dancing commenced. Legolas also enjoyed himself thoroughly, and willingly danced with every eligible maid, searching for his soul mate. She was not to be found, and so Legolas contented himself with a kiss on the lips from the bride, and a peck on the cheek from Tathar.

Once Tathar and Mirieth left to spend their first few months together in one of the more secluded talans built for such an occasion, Legolas was left to his own amusement, and he spent the intervening days either hunting with Thranduil or simply keeping him company in his study as the King dealt with the more mundane tasks of running the kingdom. Legolas noticed that reports seemed to be arriving more often, and saw the deep concern in Thranduil’s eyes as he read the ill news brought by messengers from Lothlórien. It seemed as if the Shadow was beginning to slowly awaken.

Although the border patrols were an ever increasing necessity, Thranduil allowed the trainees and the newly returned patrol to remain in his Hall for several months prior to departing on their next missions. One evening, when the Elves were indulging in one of their impromptu feasts, Thranduil rased his glass several times to acknowledge warriors who had performed outstandingly in the many skirmishes. Tathar was one, for his captain had informed Thranduil and Legolas that he had truly redeemed himself by single-handedly defeating an orc raiding party that had attacked one of the small human villages.

“I would like to congratulate Tathar on his act of bravery and skill, and so am pleased to announce that he has been promoted to lead his own scouting party, with Legolas as his second in command,” Thranduil said. There was much applause, and many kind words spoken to the two, but neither Legolas nor Tathar could do anything but nod politely and stare in disbelief at Thranduil.

“I am giving you both a chance to prove your worth,” he said in answer to the unspoken questions in their eyes. “I require that a report on the increasing darkness that is shrouding the south of Greenwood be delivered to Imladris, and am sending Tathar’s patrol to do so within the next few days,” he told them, smiling inwardly at the astonishment, pride and excitement he saw in their faces.

“We will not let you down this time Adar,” promised Legolas, who was still unable to believe his good fortune. Not only was he being given more responsibility, but at last he would have the chance to see Imladris for the first time.

The Last Homely House was well hidden deep within the craggy slopes of the valley through which the Bruinen flowed, and even though none of the Elves from Greenwood aside from Tathar had made the journey there before, they somehow made their way unerringly towards their destination. Legolas sensed a benevolent, yet frighteningly powerful force guiding him forward, whispering to his soul of the beauty that waited ahead. Just as the paths to Thranduil’s realm were hidden from all but the Wood Elves, and kept secret by the King’s powers of enchantment, so too was the road to Imladris unmarked to the eyes of those not of Elf kind.

This discovery, and the excitement of a journeying to another elven realm for the first time, only served to fuel Legolas’s sense of wonder, as it did for the others. The Greenwood party cautiously made their way along the path that was only wide enough for the horses to traverse in single file and soon caught their first glimpse of the legendary refuge. The early morning sun appeared to be captured by the exquisite structures, only to escape as brilliant flashes of light from the jewel of the valley. The soft sounds of the waterfalls whispered a welcome to the newcomers as they rode slowly through the stone archway that was the gate to Imladris.

Their passage had not gone unnoticed by the silent, yet ever present guards who had sent word of the arrival of the visitors on to Elrond, and then followed them, undetected, into the courtyard where the Lore Master was waiting to greet them.

“Tathar, it is good to see you again, and under much more pleasant circumstances,” said Elrond, placing his hand on his heart in the customary gesture of welcome among Elves.

“Ai, this time my heart is burdened with joy rather than sadness,” responded Tathar, copying Elrond’s gesture.

“I see you have travelled in good company. Surely this can be none other than Legolas Thranduilion,” he said as he caught sight of the younger elf who wore the fair countenance of his adar, and who now bowed respectfully to his elder.

“I am pleased to meet you, Lord Elrond. Adar had spoken of you often,” answered Legolas with a brilliant smile that added a sparkle to his already bright eyes.

“Not always affectionately, I expect,” said Elrond lightly, smiling slightly at the faint blush that crept into Legolas’s cheeks, indicating that the Lord of Imladris’s words had a ring of truth about them.

“Perhaps not, but definitely always with respect,” he said in Thranduil’s defence.

“The feeling is mutual,” Elrond assured him with a warmth that put Legolas at ease. “Now, if you will finish the introductions, Tathar, I will have your horses taken care of whilst I summon Erestor to show you to the guest chambers. Naturally you are all free to roam about and savour the beauty of Imladris, if you so choose,” offered Elrond, turning his attention back to Tathar whom he correctly assumed was the leader.

The formalities were quickly dispensed with, and Legolas was disappointed to hear that Elladan and Elrohir were away in the north, scouting with the Rangers, for had hoped to become better acquainted with Elrond’s sons during his brief visit. Rather than go to their chambers, Legolas and Tathar were invited to accompany Elrond to his study to deliver Thranduil’s messages.

Legolas felt rather nervous as they approached the elegantly carved door that led to Elrond’s sanctuary, but he relaxed a little as Tathar offered silent support by firmly gripping his friend’s shoulder. This was the place where Elisiel had succumbed to the call of the sea, and sensing Legolas’s reluctance to enter the room, Elrond reassured him that the seashells had been removed. Although neither he nor the Noldor who resided in Imladris were likely to be affected as the Queen had been, the Elves of Greenwood and Lothlórien, several of whom were also currently visiting, were definitely at risk of becoming afflicted by the sea longing.

Before he heard the reports from Thranduil, Elrond decided it would be prudent to summon Haldir and Glorfindel to join in the discussion. The reports of the increasing orc population, and the more frequent attacks on both Men and Elves were disquieting to all, as was Haldir’s observation that there seemed to be a veil of blackness over the part of Greenwood that was visible from the heights of Cerin Amroth. Legolas confirmed that he and Thranduil and some others could feel the chill of evil in the south, and with the wisdom of his foresight, Elrond assumed that Sauron was awakening.

The discussion turned to strategies that may be used to defeat the shadow should Elrond’s fear be well founded, and the afternoon passed quickly as the younger elves listened with fascination as he and Glorfindel told tales of battles long past. The comradeship and affection in the glance Tathar and Legolas exchanged when Elrond spoke of his own relationship with Gil-galad did not pass unnoticed.

“I see you two have forged a similar bond, of the brotherhood of warriors that will give you both the strength to see you through the dark days I fear are ahead,” he said knowingly.

“Ai, not unlike that between your sons, or Haldir and his brothers, if I am not mistaken,” added Glorfindel, raising a questioning eyebrow at the Lothlórien elf.

“Indeed you are correct, my lord,” replied Haldir, showing his great respect for Elrond’s seneschal.

“It pleases me that there is much hope for the future, for the younger elves have the makings of fine warriors, even before the battle is joined,” said Elrond sincerely.

“Not to mention the fact that some of them are excellent archers, although more experience in skirmishes would likely serve them well,” said Glorfindel nonchalantly, favouring the younger elves with a look that indicated he was well aware of the archery tournament, and the result. Legolas, Tathar and Haldir had the grace to look slightly embarrassed, causing Elrond and Glorfindel to smile with amusement at their chagrin.

“Enough of this talk of war and darkness, it is surely time for the evening meal, and some merrymaking afterwards to lighten the mood,” suggested Glorfindel.

It was only a few days later that the Greenwood Elves took their leave and began the journey home. By mutual agreement, they decided not to travel directly back to the forest, but to head south and investigate Haldir’s claim. Tathar suggested that they go to Lothlórien, but they had no need to do so once they made their way to the summit of a particularly high, tree covered rise in the foothills of the Misty Mountains. The gloom far off to the south was already faintly visible to the keen eyes of the Elves.

“I see what Haldir meant,” said Legolas from the top branch of the tree he had climbed to get a better view of the cloud that hung over the ruins of Dol Guldur. Tathar and the others quickly climbed nearby trees to see the horrifying sight for themselves. Not only was there a strange, murky cloud hanging low over the forest, but the trees beneath it were beginning to wither, looking as if the very light that gave them life was slowly being extinguished by a dark power.

“I think it unwise of us to attempt to enter the forest there,” said Tathar displaying his new found sense of responsibility once they had had their fill of the sorrowful sight and had gathered around the campfire that had just been lit. It was not yet twilight, but the bright flames provided a light to lift their spirits.

“Ai, who knows what dark creatures lurk in wait,” agreed Legolas, also behaving with more maturity. “We should hurry back to our realm and inform Adar. I am certain he will wish to send his more experienced warriors to investigate.”

That evening, sweet elvish voices sang a melancholy lament for the fading trees of their forest.

Thranduil did not need to take the risk and send a patrol to try and discover the cause of the darkness, for Tathar learned the answer unexpectedly. His patrol had just entered the familiar and well loved forest, and was listening to the anxious whispering of the trees, trying to decipher what had caused such a feeling of dread to overcome them, when Legolas noticed the body of a Man several paces from the elf path.

“I think he is one of the hunters from the village just outside the forest. He seems to have been bitten by something quite large,” he said as he bent to examine the two large marks that had travelled deep into the man’s neck.

“These trees have a strange, sticky, web like threads hanging from the upper branches,” said Tathar as he moved away from the body to examine some large, rope like filaments of a greyish hued substance. He felt rather than saw something watching him, and stood very still, gazing into the branches above, directly into two cruel, black eyes. He was unable to stifle a gasp of surprise, and called softly to the others, warning them to beware of the danger.

“Look directly above and tell me my eyes are deceiving me,” he asked Legolas who had moved to stand beside his friend.

“Nay, if your eyes lie, then so do mine. I have never seen a spider of that size before,” whispered Legolas, trying not to attract the ugly creature’s attention. The spider’s black body was the size of an Elf’s head, its legs covered with coarse hairs and its fangs were obviously quite deadly. There was also a fearsome and crude air of intelligence emanating from the creature, and neither Legolas nor Tathar were ashamed to admit to being afraid of the dark one.

Their fear was short lived as they felt the others in the group forming a defensive ring behind them, and heard the faint creaking of elven bows strings being drawn tight as arrows were nocked in readiness for battle. The spider was given no chance to kill again as each arrow quickly found its target. Both Elves breathed a premature sigh of relief, for in the next instant several other spiders quickly began to attack. Even the increased numbers were no match for the skill and ferocity of the Greenwood warriors, and all the creatures were quickly defeated, but not before one of the Elves had been bitten and partially covered in a movement restricting web. He was quickly removed from the sticky, mithril strong web, but remained paralysed.

Legolas suggested that they extract some spider venom and take it back to the Healer to enable him to develop an antidote, if required. The group hastily continued on to Thranduil’s Hall, with the injured Elf riding in front of Tathar who held him safely in place. The Healer was grateful for the quick thinking, and soon developed a potion to counteract the poison.

“I fear there will be more occasions on which your remedy will be needed,” said Thranduil sadly as he stood to leave after spending some time with the injured warrior.

“Ai, I have already thought of a way to make enough so that our patrols can carry a supply with them,” replied the Healer. Thranduil nodded but made no comment as he left the chamber.

“I wish to speak to you two,” insisted Thranduil as found Legolas and Tathar standing morosely outside, waiting for news. His tone of voice sounded ominous, and neither of the younger Elves knew why, and looked very serious for a few moments before Legolas realised his Adar was merely teasing them. “Your friend will recover well, and I merely wish to tell you both how proud I am of your actions, both in seeking to confirm Haldir’s information, and in dealing with such an unexpected crisis. You are becoming mature, responsible adults,” said Thranduil, his voice filled with pride and affection.

“Thank you, your majesty, but if you will excuse me, this ‘mature, responsible adult’ must make his peace with his wife,” said Tathar with a pleased grin as he waved to Mirieth who was waiting for him across the clearing.

“Do you not wish you had a ladylove to ease your pain and welcome you home, Legolas?” asked Thranduil as they watched the affectionate reunion.

“In time, perhaps I will permit myself to be bound by the heart Adar, but I somehow feel as if I have a dangerous path ahead, and would not wish to cause unnecessary heartache, to one I love,” replied Legolas suddenly certain that was exactly what he was destined to do.

“Maybe you will, but know that my heart is already breaking for I feel as if the very air in Greenwood is growing heavy and clouded with evil, it is surely becoming more like a Mirkwood,” Thranduil said sadly as he drew his son into his arms, both giving and seeking comfort from the one he held so dear.

To the casual observer, the Elvenking’s demeanour was coolly controlled as always, but to one as close to him as his son, the roiling current of dark emotions that eddied around a heart in turmoil was easy to sense. The knowledge that there were dangerous creatures of a kind he had never before seen moving freely about his forest did not sit well with Thranduil, who felt in some way responsible for any attack that occurred beneath his trees. He was no fool and he knew that the Dark Lord was indeed an enemy to be feared as well as hated, which he was not ashamed to admit he did, but he was also angered that one of his Elves had been injured, and saddened that one of the Men had lost his life.

“What did you do with the remains of the Man?” he asked Legolas as they walked towards the training grounds where Thranduil was expecting to find those of his captains who had not yet gone back out on patrol. Most had served under him in the army of the Last alliance, and all knew their King well enough to realise he would already be planning a defence against this new threat.

“Nothing. We were attacked so suddenly that we had no time to do anything other than protect ourselves, and we returned immediately our friend was injured,” explained Legolas casting his eyes downward as he was overcome with a feeling of remorse for the somewhat callous behaviour on the part of the Elves in regard to the slain Man. “Tathar and I should return and take care of the body, it is not right to simply leave the hunter where he fell,” said Legolas, voicing his thoughts.

“Ai, we can do no less for the unfortunate one,” agreed Thranduil. “However, we must be extremely cautious in doing so. I and some of my most experienced warriors will accompany you and Tathar back to where the attack occurred. I wish to see just what kind of threat lurks in the darkness of the south,” he added.

“Surely you do not plan to seek out the spider’s lair?” asked a startled Legolas, not bothering to hide his fear for Thranduil’s safety from his eyes. Thranduil smiled affectionately, offering reassurance to his son.

“That is exactly my intention, but you have no cause to be concerned. Remember that I have fought many battles alongside those I will ask to join me, and we each owe our lives to the skill and courage of one another many times over,” he said as they reached the training area where, as expected, his captains were already gathered together discussing the attack on Tathar’s patrol. Legolas was called upon to relate the incident once more and then spent several minutes answering detailed questions after which there was much discussion as to the best course of action to be taken.

All agreed without hesitation that a more detailed knowledge of the nature of the spiders and the location of their lair was vital information, and that Legolas and Tathar should guide them to the place of the attack before making the journey to the village. Despite Thranduil’s strong and loudly voiced objections they also decided there was no real need for the King to be away from the safety of his Hall. There was no mistaking Thranduil’s feelings on this matter. A thunderstorm raged across his face and lightning flashed in his eyes.

“It is my place to seek out and destroy any danger to my realm,” he said in a voice of cold steel. “Whilst well targeted arrows may be able to kill these creatures, perhaps it may take a stronger power to destroy the darkness from whence they arise,” stated Thranduil, confidant that he possessed the necessary power to do so. It was an argument none could deny.

“Once Adar and his patrol have reached their destination, you and I will travel on to the village to warn the Men of the danger of hunting in the forest. We will also offer to assist them in the burial of their friend,” Legolas explained to Tathar as they leaned on the rail of the bridge and waited for the others to arrive.

“If you had not offered to return and take care of the spider’s victim, I would have. Mirieth was most upset that we left the body out in the open, she said there was no need to be so disrespectful to the Man,” Tathar told his friend.

“I hope you did not exchange harsh words over the incident,” said Legolas, studying his friend a little more closely. The look of embarrassment that flashed across Tathar’s face, causing him to blush slightly was something Legolas had rarely seen in the long years of their friendship.

“Well, we DID argue a little. Mirieth did not really understand how preoccupied we were. She said I was exaggerating the size of those ugly creatures, and I became quite angry at her for thinking I would make up such a story. Then she became angry at me for speaking to her in anger,” he explained.

“But you have settled your differences now, I trust?” asked Legolas with concern, not at all happy with the thought of his friends being at odds with each other.

“Ai, we spent several hours forgiving each other,” replied Tathar with a strange gentleness to his voice.

“Obviously the act of forgiveness is a very pleasant experience,” teased Legolas, smiling at the further reddening of Tathar’s cheeks that travelled to the tips of his ears and confirmed his friend’s assumption as to the manner of such an act.

Further teasing was forestalled as Thranduil, armed with his bow and the knife that had belonged to Oropher, and dressed in the green tunic and brown leggings favoured by the other warriors, arrived at the bridge where Legolas and Tathar waited. Shortly after, their number was complete, and Thranduil bid his Steward and the others who remained a fond farewell.

Although all the elder warriors wished to accompany their King, he had convinced the archery and sword masters to stay behind in the event that their experience was needed to help deal with any reports of trouble from the other patrols. Legolas had fairly glowed with pride when his Adar informed them that his son would be gone barely a day, and that he had proved himself more than capable to act in the King’s stead.

The two young one eagerly led their elders and the group travelled quickly to the glade where the attack had taken place. Whilst Thranduil and his patrol studied the remains of the spiders, Legolas and Tathar placed a cover of elvish cloth over the Man’s body before taking their leave and making for the village. As Thranduil had said, it was but a short distance away, on the very edge of the forest and although the Men often entered Greenwood in search of deer or rabbits for their table, they had rarely encountered any Elves, unless so desired by the Woodland folk.

Legolas introduced himself as the King’s son and Tathar as his guard and quickly explained the sad purpose of their visit. The village leader was surprised to hear them speak in the language of Men, and even more surprised to find out that the Elves of Thranduil’s realm had learned the language so that they could trade with the folk of Esgaroth. He had heard that Thranduil did not favour dealings with either Men or Dwarves, and that neither was welcome in his kingdom.

Once he had recovered from his astonishment, the leader thanked the Elves for their concern over the fate of the lost hunter, and immediately sent several of his friends to retrieve the body. He declined Legolas’s offer to show them the way, informing the Elf that those he had sent were well acquainted with that area of the forest. Instead he invited the visitors to join in the midday meal and was as delighted as the other villagers when Legolas and Tathar graciously accepted. Although the meal was simple fare compared to the excellent meals prepared by Tariel, Legolas and Tathar found the food to be most palatable, even if the ale the Men favoured was far too bitter for their taste.

At first the men and women were a little wary of the strange beings in their midst, but not so the children, who by some instinct knew they had nothing to fear from Legolas and Tathar, or indeed any Elf. Several of the more daring young ones took turns at boldly sitting on the Elves’ knees as they listened to Legolas sing. Others approached a little more shyly until the inherent curiosity of childhood won out, and they asked a myriad of questions about their newfound friends.

Legolas was enjoying himself immensely and was reluctant to heed Tathar’s call that it was time to leave.

Before they did, however, Legolas sought out the widow of the Man and offered her his condolences for her bereavement. The woman could not contain her tears, and he instinctively reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. He was rewarded with a smile filled with such beauty and sadness that his heart ached for a grief that was not of the same soul searing pain that he knew an Elf could feel, but ran deep within nonetheless.

Thranduil watched Legolas and Tathar leave and then turned his attention back to examining the foul creatures that had invaded his forest. The spiders were truly ugly, and far larger than he had imagined, and thus far more dangerous. On the advice of one his most skilled trackers, Thranduil agreed that the search for the trail leading to the lair must necessarily be among the treetops, for that was how the creatures moved so rapidly through the forest.

It had been a wise decision, for the sticky, grey filaments of web, that when tested proved to have the strength of mithril, hung from many leaves and branches like a decoration of darkness. When he accidentally put his hand on a large thread of the spider web, Thranduil shuddered as the evil that remained in the discarded substance chilled his blood. He noticed his companions all felt the same and the sense of impending doom thickened the air and, made them all long to be back in the light of their forest. Even the trees spoke of the dark creatures that had begun to make their homes in their branches, and Thranduil was saddened to hear the distinctly melancholy whispers of the leaves.

As day turned to night, the scouting party had had their fill of the coldness of the treetops, and descended to the forest floor. Soon a fire was burning brightly, its warm glow in bright contrast to the darkness beyond the reach of the firelight chasing the chill in their blood away. After a light meal of lembas and a hot herb tea, Thranduil lead the others in singing some of the songs favoured at their many feasts. As their sweet voices floated throughout the still night air, they were delighted to hear a distinctly more joyful rustling in the leaves as the trees added their music to the chorus.

The evening thus passed pleasantly, until one of the guards on watch noticed the many pairs of cold, red eyes peering at the Elves from high up in the trees. The spiders had found them, but apparently were reluctant to come too close to the fire.

“Even our eyesight is not sufficient to allow us to attack the creatures at night,” Thranduil mused as he briefly contemplated doing just that.

“That would not be wise,” said the voice of a stranger, an old man with a tall blue hat, robes of grey, and a mischievous twinkle in his bright eyes. None had heard him approach, nor indeed had seen the elderly man until he was well within the bounds of the firelight.

“Who are you!” demanded Thranduil angrily as he stood to confront the intruder. The old man moved closer to the fire and sat down in the spot just vacated by irate King, and helped himself to a mug of tea.

“Merely a wanderer, travelling to see the sights,” he answered as he took a sip of his tea. “Ah, you Elves certainly know how to brew a good cup,” he muttered more to himself than his astounded companions.

“What are you that you can approach us unawares, and why are you here in my forest?” asked Thranduil eyeing the stranger warily, remembering tales of Sauron once being able to take any guise he chose.

“I am not who or what you think,” replied the old man, apparently reading Thranduil’s thoughts. “As I already told you, I am merely wandering about and took an interest in this beautiful forest, which I am sorry to say seems to have been infected with shadow in the south,” he explained.

“What do you know of that?” asked Thranduil unable to curb his curiosity, relaxing a little as he sensed nothing evil about the stranger. He poured himself another mug of tea, and sat beside the old man, hoping to learn more of the blight on his forest.

“I know that Dol Guldur is no longer deserted, and the evil there is growing, breeding creatures of darkness such as these unpleasant spiders. I also know that you are Thranduil, the King of Greenwood,” he said laughing merrily at the look of astonishment on the faces all around him.

“Mithrandir,” replied the old man. Thranduil nodded agreement, the name was appropriate for the old man was indeed both grey in hair and robes, and some kind of pilgrim.

“My good Thranduil, I did not VISIT that dark place, I merely saw it from afar, and surely you have heard of the veil of shadow that hangs over the south of the forest?”

“If I am not mistaken, you can also sense it, can you not?” asked Mithrandir in a manner that suggested he already knew the answer. Thranduil merely nodded, then sat perfectly still. Mithrandir locked eyes with him for a heartbeat or a millennium, he knew not which, such was the power in the depth of the old man’s gaze. “The evil there is slowly growing, and may be beyond your power to defeat, but I believe that I can rid you of it for a short while at least. I suggest you keep ever vigilant, and do not let your guard fall. For now, return to your Hall and leave the spiders leave the darkness to me… you know I can help.”

“Ai, I believe you can, and when you have completed your task, please feel free to visit my Hall Mithrandir,” whispered Thranduil, breaking the spell that might have been placed on him by the old one who was definitely not a Man.

Sometime during the early hours of the morning, Mithrandir disappeared as mysteriously as he had appeared. Several days later, as he stood on his balcony, staring to the south, Thranduil felt as if a weight had been lifted from his heart as the darkness faded back into the farthest corner of his mind.

“Enter!” called a voice from within in response to Legolas’s soft tap on the door of his Adar’s bedchamber. He was surprised to find it slightly ajar and allowed himself a small, sad smile as he remembered that Nana had always left it so, for when he was still a child he could barely reach the door handle.

“You sent for me, Adar?” he asked as he crossed the room and stepped through the archway that served as a threshold to the balcony where Thranduil awaited.

“Ai,” he answered with a frown on his face was reminiscent of the one he usually wore when he was about to scold his young son, and more often than not, Tathar as well. Those days had long since passed and Legolas knew he was not in trouble but he felt Thranduil’s disquiet as he kissed his cheek in greeting.

“Mithrandir,” replied Thranduil as if that single name explained everything. He had told Legolas of the strange encounter, and they both could sense that the forest to the south was not shrouded so deeply in shadow as before, but Thranduil was still curious about the old man’s origins. “I have given the matter some thought and have decided to travel to Imladris,” he told his son.

“I think it likely, and even if he has not met him in person, I am certain he has heard of him from the Rangers to the north, they are always well informed,” Thranduil replied.

“In a few days, and that is the reason I summoned you, to ask if you would like to accompany me. You have often been away from home on missions in recent times, and I have missed your company. A trip to Imladris will give us time to become reacquainted,” said Thranduil placing an affectionate arm about his son’s shoulders.

“Need you ask? I have missed you too, Adar,” replied Legolas with a hint of melancholy in his voice, showing his love by resting his head on Thranduil’s shoulder as they stood and watched the leaves dancing in the afternoon breeze.

The journey to Imladris was free of incident, much to Thranduil’s relief, and he and Legolas spent the days riding together, discussing topics of importance, or laughing merrily at the many humorous tales Legolas had to tell of his and Tathar’s exploits during their scouting missions. Mostly they were concerned with pranks played on their unfortunate comrades, such as stealing their clothes while they bathed, or putting insects in bedrolls or honey on someone’s hairbrush.

However, Thranduil was not overly impressed when he heard that on one occasion they had spent the night at a tavern in Laketown, pretending to be drunk so as to avoid having to drink the tankards of bitter Dwarvish ale the tavern owner had given them at the behest of the group of Dwarves who were obviously enjoying their own.

“I trust neither of you did anything to earn the disrespect of the men of Laketown?” asked Thranduil uneasily, not wishing to mar his relationship with the traders, though he was totally unconcerned about the Dwarf’s opinions.

In fact, Tathar had managed to insult the Dwarves by declaring their ale undrinkable as he tipped it out onto the floor. This enraged not only the Dwarves, but the tavern owner as well, and despite his best efforts, Legolas could not prevent the ensuing argument from becoming quite heated. Both the Dwarves and the Elves had been asked to leave, but not before one of the tables had suffered severe damage from an axe wielded in anger at Tathar, who had nimbly avoided the blow. The tavern owner decided that the Elf was at fault and had threatened to send word of the incident to King Thranduil unless he was paid for the damaged table. The price he had asked for was far too high in Legolas’s estimation, but he paid it nonetheless after securing the man’s word that the incident would be forgotten. He had kept his word, and Legolas had made the difficult choice of keeping the truth from Thranduil to protect Tathar.

“If we had, you would no doubt have heard of it by now. It was many months ago, and our trading continues as normal,” replied Legolas with a nonchalant shrug for the slight deception about which he suddenly felt extremely guilty. He decided now was the time to explain the incident in full to Thranduil, who listened without interrupting.

“I am disappointed and hurt that you did not told me of this sooner, Legolas, but at least you had the sense to try and make amends,” Thranduil said after a few moments of silence that made Legolas feel even worse.

“I am very sorry to have hurt you so, Adar,” he said with remorse. “I will not do so again.”

“I will forgive you this time, for no real damage was done, but I am concerned that Tathar’s troublemaking tendencies have not diminished, and that he seems to be exerting a bad influence over you. It must cease!” stated Thranduil forcefully. He would speak to the young Elf and his captain on his return, and insist that the Legolas and Tathar no longer serve on the same patrol.

Although the journey took several weeks, it seemed as if they had barely left Greenwood when the whispering of the waterfalls was heard in the distance, and soon the horses moved steadily down the narrow path leading to the stone archway that was the entrance to Imladris.

To Thranduil’s relief, Elrond knew Mithrandir quite well, and told the Woodland King that the stranger in his forest was one of the Istari who had appeared in Middle-earth about one thousand years into the Third Age.

“Rest assured he has only good intentions and I consider him a trusted, and very wise advisor, and a good friend. More than that I can not tell you, other than I know he intends to visit your Hall in the near future. Perhaps he will answer your questions then,” suggested Elrond.

“I will certainly ask!” declared Thranduil, relieved that his instincts had been proved correct, for he had felt nothing evil about the Istar, even before he knew who he was.

“He can be rather mysterious when he chooses, but you can always try a little bribery… he is rather partial to red wine.” Thranduil could not help but smile at that.

“Well, at least we have something in common,” he said, no longer feeling the unease of knowing too little about Mithrandir.

Thranduil did not want to be absent should Mithrandir decide to visit his Halls as Elrond said he would, so the Greenwood Elves stayed only a few days in Imladris, just long enough to rest their horses, and enjoy a few evenings in the Hall of Fire.

As they approached the entrance to the Elf Path that Thranduil had protected with an enchantment, Legolas was surprised to see Tathar waiting for them, and he rode forward to greet his friend.

“I was going to ask if there was some dire reason for you being here, mellon nin, but I see by the brightness in your eyes that you are the bearer of good news,” said Legolas as he dismounted so that he could properly greet his friend with a warrior’s handclasp.

“How wonderful! May the Valar watch over you both in this joyful time,” said Legolas, his eyes alight with almost as much happiness as Tathar’s. “You will make a wonderful adar,” he added as he drew his friend into a warm embrace.

“I hope so. Do you know, I am already so eagerly anticipating his arrival that I do not know how I will be able to last until the child is born,” said Tathar, almost jumping with surprise as Thranduil hugged him briefly then offered a few words of wisdom, his anger with the young Elf forgotten for the moment.

“The wait is much easier than you imagine, it is rearing the mischievous one that will be difficult, especially if he inherits his Adar’s temperament,” he teased. Tathar looked terrified at that thought, but soon joined in the happy laughter as he accepted the heartfelt congratulations of the other Elves in Thranduil’s escort.

As soon as they arrived back at Thranduil’s Hall, Legolas rushed to find Mirieth.

“You look absolutely radiant, Mirieth. I am so happy for you both,” he said as he hugged her delicately as if she was made of glass, and kissed her briefly on the lips, winking mischievously as he saw Tariel watching them out of the corner of his eye.

“Thank you Legolas,” she said, kissing him again briefly as they parted. Neither could contain their mirth at the extreme look of disapproval Tariel favoured them with, but before she had the chance to speak her mind, Thranduil approached her and began making plans for the celebration he had decided was in order.

“The King has decreed that we are to have a feast tonight to celebrate this joyous occasion,” said Tathar, inclining his head towards where Tariel and Thranduil were standing.

Thanks to Tariel’s skill as a cook, the Wood Elves love of singing, dancing and the fading of the darkness to the south, the feast was thoroughly enjoyed by all. Legolas was both impressed and amused by Tathar’s overprotective behaviour towards Mirieth, until he asked her to dance. Tathar at first refused to allow it, fearing that Mirieth would tire too easily, but was forced to concede defeat when Legolas asked the midwife for her approval, which she readily gave.

Thranduil found a comfortable spot beneath one of the beech trees and sipped his wine, watching with deep satisfaction as his people happily indulged in their merrymaking. For a few brief moments even he forgot about the spiders and other evil creatures that still inhabited the woods to the south.

“Why are you not dancing, Adar?” asked Legolas as he sat beside Thranduil and held out an empty wine goblet for the King to fill.

“I am find I am in the mood to just sit here and watch,” replied Thranduil. “I am glad you are here, Legolas, for I have some news for you that I learned from the captain of the patrols. You are to be promoted to leader of your group, and will be sent to monitor the activity of the spiders and any other foul creatures that inhabit the forest in the south.”

“That is indeed good news, but what of Tathar?” asked Legolas, concerned for his friend, but feeling quite proud of himself, and suddenly eager to lead his first patrol.

“He will be assigned to my guard so that he may remain close to his wife and child. A birth is a rare event these days, and his son deserves to have both his Nana and Adar with him. It was sad enough that Tathar had no Adar to raise him, I would not see his son in the same situation,” explained Thranduil. That he would also be able to keep a closer watch on Tathar himself was a fact Thranduil felt unnecessary to mention to Legolas.

“Ai, but I am not his Adar, and our songs are nothing alike… He has lacked the closeness that only his own flesh and blood can give him, the closeness we share,” said Thranduil, smiling affectionately at his beloved son as he raised his goblet to toast their bond.

“Would it be asking too much for you to fill me a goblet with that fine looking red wine?” asked a strange voice from amongst the tees. Legolas quickly rose to his feet, and instinctively reached for his bow and arrow, only to recall that they were lying safely on his bed. Like the other Elves, he had seen no good reason to wear weapons to the feast.

“Have no fear, if I am not mistaken, t is merely Mithrandir who is hiding there,” said Thranduil calmly as he recognised the voice. “Welcome to my realm. It is fortunate that you did not seek me out a day earlier, for you would have found me absent. Legolas please go and fetch another goblet so that the wizard can join us,” he remarked to show Mithrandir that he at least knew what he was. The wizard’s only response was to stare at the King from under the brim of his hat.

“Your son is favoured with your fair countenance,” commented the Istar as he moved into the faint light of the stars, and watched Legolas run quickly to the table where he and Thranduil had sat for the meal. He scooped up an unused goblet and return in the space of a few heartbeats. The young Elf did not wish to miss anything his elders had to say, and he was as curious as Thranduil was about the strange person in their midst. He quickly poured the wine, and then handed the goblet to Mithrandir.

“So I have been told on many occasions. I have a question for you if you would be so kind as to allow it?”

“You may ask whatever you like, but do not necessarily expect an answer,” replied Mithrandir as he sipped his wine. Thranduil frowned in frustration, but asked anyway.

“I can feel that the darkness in the south has diminished somewhat as you said would happen, but what did you do?”

“I merely forced the dark creatures further east, but only for a short time, since my power is still greater than theirs. You must remain ever watchful, lest the shadow rise swiftly and engulfs you,” he warned, deciding that Thranduil needed to know the truth of the dangers he faced.

“I have increased my patrols, and my people are more watchful. I will know when the shadow returns,” he stated.

“Good! Now tell me, is there a special occasion being celebrated or are you simply having a feast?” asked Mithrandir looking around as if noticing the dancing and singing for the first time.

“A young couple announced they have conceived a son, and we are celebrating,” explained Legolas, who had decided he really liked this wizard, or whatever he chose to call himself.

“I am merely passing through, and wish to learn a little more about you and your Wood Elves. I was hoping to be permitted to stay a few days,” suggested the wizard as he drew a pipe from the folds of his robe and lit it.

“You are certainly welcome to stay as long as you like,” confirmed Thranduil who felt extremely safe with the Istar around

“Excellent, we still have much to discuss,” he said as he puffed on his pipe.

During the three days he stayed in Greenwood, Mithrandir earned the love and respect of the Wood Elves, as he joined in all their activities, and spent time with the young ones. Even Thranduil had to admit that the Istar held the well being of all Middle-earth in his heart, especially after their many private discussions about the evil that was reawakening. Thranduil kept his own counsel when asked what he had been told, but everyone was well aware of the more frequent patrols in the south and north, and the increased correspondence with Imladris.

After knocking on the door several times, with ever increasing force, and receiving no response Tathar decided that Legolas was not in his bedchamber.

“Maybe he is already in the dining hall, waiting for me,” suggested Faelas brightly. Tathar smiled at his small son and lifted him into his arms as he twirled around, causing the child to dissolve into giggles and earning himself a choking hug around the neck from the small one.

“Can we go and find him, Ada?” Faelas asked, turning quite serious for a moment. “We are supposed to be looking for a gift for Nana’s conception day. It is tomorrow you know,” he explained with a worried look on his little face. Tathar laughed.

“Of course I know, why do you think Nana has been telling us every day this week that she is in desperate need of a new spinning wheel?” he asked his son.

“Are you making one in secret? Can I help?” enquired Faelas, obviously delighted with the notion.

“It is already finished, but next year we will make her gift together,” Tathar promised the disappointed child. “Ah, here comes the King’s Steward, maybe he has seen Legolas this morning,” he said loudly, relieved to see the smile return to the child’s face.

“Nay, I have come to wake him at this hour, as he requested last night,” answered the Steward with a meaningful glance at Tathar. Several patrols had returned the previous afternoon, and long into the night there had been much merrymaking, and perhaps a little over indulgence of wine on the part of the warriors, Legolas included. “I believe he and a certain young Elf have an important task to take care of today,” he added with a cheerful smile for Faelas.

“Are you sure? He is not in the dining hall,” said the Steward as he soundlessly lifted the handle and pushed the door open just far enough to enable him to see inside the room. Legolas was indeed still abed, and apparently fast asleep. Tathar peered over the elder Elf’s shoulder at his friend, and before he knew what was happening, Faelas freed himself from his Ada’s arms, jumped lightly to the floor and pushed past them both.

“I think you can be certain your task is about to be well handled,” Tathar told the Steward dryly.

“Ai, then I will be about my other duties,” he replied. As he turned to leave, his amusement was plain to see in the brightness of his eyes.

“Wake up, Legolas!” Faelas shouted as he ran to the bedside, only to scream with delight as he was caught unexpectedly by two strong arms and lifted onto the bed. Tathar felt a glow of happiness surround him as he observed the heart warming display of affection between the two. Legolas loved the child almost as if he was his own, and in turn, Faelas adored the King’s son. He was often heard telling anyone who would listen that when he grew up he wanted to be as good an archer as ‘his’ Legolas.

“I am awake, I was merely pretending to be asleep to annoy your Ada,” Legolas whispered conspiratorially to the child as he tickled him.

“I do not think it worked,” Faelas managed to reply in between bursts of laughter.

“I was not annoyed before, but I am now. It was very impolite of you to ignore me, Legolas. You are teaching my son some very bad habits,” declared Tathar joining in the spirit of the game by pretending to be angry with Legolas.

“If only Adar could hear you now,” said Legolas, laughing uncontrollably at the very accusations Thranduil often levelled at Tathar. His friend somehow managed to retain his composure as he realised what he had just said.

“I think you should be punished for your rude behaviour,” he added imitating the tone of voice Thranduil used when dealing with misdemeanours of the young.

“Oh, well spoken, mellon nin,” Legolas managed to say before both he and Tathar laughed uproariously, causing Faelas to wonder what was so amusing. He decided it must be one of those jests that only adults understood, and turned his attention back to Tathar’s threat.

“No Ada, please do not order him to stay in his room! We have to find Nana’s gift,” exclaimed Faelas, assuming that his Ada would employ his usual method of discipline.

“Indeed you do, and because I do not wish to disappoint Faelas, or Mirieth for that matter, I will forgive you this time Legolas, but do not let it happen again. Now get dressed!” he ordered, taking Faelas by the hand and leading him from the chamber to allow Legolas his privacy.

Faelas quickly finished his morning meal and waited impatiently for Legolas to do likewise.

“Faelas please take these bread crumbs and feed the birds,” asked Tariel in an attempt to distract her great-grandson from watching every morsel Legolas placed in his mouth. Legolas smiled his thanks, and soon finished his meal, much to the child’s relief.

“Are you certain Nana has never seen the flowers we are looking for before?” a small voice in the distance called. Faelas was not content to stroll along the Elf Path at the leisurely pace Legolas was keeping; instead he had skipped ahead, and was searching among the grass for his quarry.

“I am certain, just as I am certain you are inviting danger by straying so far ahead. Please come back and walk with me, the forest is very lovely today,” said Legolas, evoking an instant obedience from the child that not even Mirieth could always accomplish.

“Is it really scary in the dark parts of the wood where you patrol?” asked Faelas shivering slightly with fear that was quickly dispelled as Legolas took his small hand in his.

“It is frightening, but eventually the fear can be overcome, however the danger remains,” he told his young charge.

“But it is safe as long as I stay on the Path,” said Faelas, repeating the lesson that was one of the first taught to the children.

“Then how are we going to get the flowers? You told me they were deep in the forest, not on the Path,” enquired Faelas, looking and sounding confused at the apparent contradiction.

Legolas considered his reply for a few moments, not because he had been caught by the child’s perceptiveness, but because Faelas had not listened closely when he had been told of the unusual bloom. Legolas did not wish to upset his young friend, but he needed to correct his mistake.

“I see you were far to enamoured by my description of the flowers to fully remember what else I said about them,” observed Legolas.

“You definitely told me they were small white flowers with petals so thin that you could almost see through them, and you discovered them by chance because they seemed to glow like stars in the dark of night,” Faelas said staring defiantly at Legolas and waiting for his affirmation.

“Ai, I see you remember a great deal, but you forgot that I also said I found a small patch of these a few paces from the Path. They were in too much light to glow, but I am certain they are the same flowers,” he told the child.

“How can you be sure?” asked Faelas. Legolas frowned slightly and privately wondered just how many questions the young Elf could think to ask.

“It is still a few hours’ walk. If you promise not to go too far ahead, I will permit you to explore the Path on your own,” he said, convincing himself that it was wiser to allow the child to do so, thus allowing them to travel in relative silence, the better to be able to listen for sounds of danger.

It was already well into the afternoon when they reached the part of the forest where the flowers were to be found, but before they collected enough to make a garland for Mirieth to wear on her special day, Legolas insisted they rest a while and eat the fruit and nuts he had brought for their midday meal. As they ate, he scanned the surrounding forest floor, his keen eyes quickly finding the small patch of flowers several paces beyond the edge of the Path.

“Look, there they are,” he said to Faelas as he placed gentle hands on the child’s shoulders and turned him to face in the direction he was pointing. “Do you see them?”

“Those pretty white ones, peeking from underneath the fallen leaves?” the child asked excitedly.

“Ai, you wait here while I go and pick some for you,” Legolas told him, looking anxiously at the rapidly descending twilight and berating himself for misjudging the time it would take to reach this place. They would not arrive back at the Hall until well after dark, and despite the safety of the Path, it had been no idle warning he had given Faelas earlier. Even the most protected places were not totally immune to danger.

Although he had not heard or seen anything of concern, he nevertheless carried his bow and arrow at the ready as he moved from the protection of the Path into the forest. He quickly picked just enough flowers to suit his purpose and was about to return to Faelas when he felt a sudden chill in the air, and sensed a nameless evil approaching. Thinking the danger was from spiders he quickly ran back to the child and found him a hiding place beneath a large fallen log, telling Faelas to remain quiet and still as he covered him with fallen leaves. The feeling of evil persisted as the last of Anor’s light faded into inky blackness, and Legolas could now hear unfamiliar footsteps approaching.

Despite remembering his last encounter with the spiders, Legolas decided to risk a brief climb into one of the trees near the edge of the Path, in the hope of seeing what it was that approached. All Elves were familiar with, and fiercely hated orcs, but until now, Legolas had never seen one, let alone three. The creatures were truly as ugly and cruel looking as he had heard, and he decided to remain where he was and attack them as they passed nearby.

Unfortunately, he was not aware that they could also sense his presence and was momentarily taken aback as they moved openly toward his location, raising their bows as they approached. As good an archer as he was, he could still only kill one at a time, and he did so swiftly, groaning with pain as the arrow from the last orc to fall grazed his upper arm.

As he had been taught to do, Legolas ignored the pain and used his knife and his good arm to ensure that his assailants were no longer a threat, and then fashioned a sling for his injured arm. He was in a great deal of pain, and was shocked to realise that the burning sensation around the arrow head was slowly travelling through his body. Poison!

Not knowing what effect the poison would have, but already feeling very light headed, Legolas quickly returned to Faelas, and took the terrified child, who was now sobbing uncontrollably and shivering with fear and shock at all he had witnessed, into his arms. He whispered soothing words until the child calmed down, and continued to hold him close despite the pain in his shoulder.

“You have been very brave, and your Ada will be very proud of you when he hears about this,” Legolas said slowly, having trouble speaking the words. “But you have to be even more courageous, for I have been poisoned and I do not know how long I can stay awake,” he said, seeing no need to tell Faelas that he might even die.

“I will watch over you, and hold your hand until you are well,” offered the child, innocently thinking that was what was required. He had only ever been ill once, and that was from eating green berries and he remembered Nana’s remedy.

“Nay, it is too dangerous for you to be here, and I am in need of our Healer,” insisted Legolas, struggling to remain conscious. “You must run as swiftly as you can back to your Adar and tell him where to find me. Keep to the Path and do not stop until you are safely home. Do you think you can do this?” he asked as his vision began to cloud.

“Ai, I will run faster than the swiftest deer, and will not stop until I reach Ada,” affirmed the child. As Legolas lost his battle to remain conscious, he felt a small hand gently brush the sweat soaked hair from his forehead to be replaced by the softness of a child’s kiss.

Faelas tried desperately to wake Legolas, but it was no use. He did not want to leave him lying in the grass, but knew he did not have the strength to move him to a safer place, if there was one. Tears of frustration and fear filled his eyes, and he began to cry uncontrollably again as he rested his head on the limp shoulder of his friend. He smiled with relief as a strong arm wrapped around his small shoulders, and as he lifted his head to smile at Legolas, his eyes widened with fear.

“Well, Faelas, you are too young to be a warrior, but there are three dead orcs over there. I suppose your friend killed them and was injured in the battle?” he asked in a voice filled with gentleness and compassion.

“He was trying to protect me… from those…” Faelas said indicating the dead orcs with a nod of his head. “Please let me go, he needs a Healer.” The man quickly released the elf child.

“You are not my prisoner, but it is too dangerous for you to travel through these woods alone and even more so at night. I do not know where the Elvenking’s palace is located, but I and some of my men will travel with you as your guard. We are quite skilled with the bow,” he added.

“No one is as good as Legolas!” declared Faelas hotly. “And strangers are not allowed in the King’s Halls…” his words halted by a deep groan of agony from Legolas.

“I am not exactly a stranger. I have met your friend before. Legolas is the son of the King, is he not? Surely King Thranduil will make an exception to his rule to save his son? Faelas, he will die if he is not treated soon,” said the man. The words were cruel but necessary, and Faelas, whose only experience with death was lying in the grass behind him, knew he did not want that to happen to Legolas.

“Ai, I will show you the way,” he agreed. Gilbard watched the distraught young Elf kneel beside his friend, but did not hear his quietly whispered words. “Ada will be here soon, and he will be very annoyed at you if you die.”

The leader then gave a piercing whistle and several other hunters appeared from among the trees. “I think we have seen the last of the orcs for a time, so three of you stand guard over the Elf, and the rest come with me,” he ordered, gesturing for Faelas to lead the way.

The young Elf was extremely weary from his emotional ordeal, and was having difficulty keeping up with the men, so it was decided that they would take turns carrying him. The journey was still too slow, as far as Gilbard was concerned, so he was greatly relieved when they encountered some of Thranduil’s border guards after only a few hours travel. Once the situation was explained, one of the guards swiftly carried the message to Thranduil, who despatched the Healer, and an escort to meet the men. It was almost an hour before the men reached the bridge at the entrance to the Halls they were met by the Elves, who disappeared swiftly into the treetops once they learned of Legolas’s location.

Thus it was that Gilbard was not surprised the find the anxious parents waiting to comfort their son. Mirieth burst into tears when she saw the state her beloved Faelas was in, and kissed the dirty tear tracks on his cheeks. Seeing the child’s tunic was covered in blood, Tathar examined his son for wounds and was very relieved to find none.

“Do you know from where this blood comes?’ he gently asked his son. Faelas nodded.

“Legolas. Please Ada, I do not want him to die like those orcs,” whimpered the child.

“You know the Healer has already left and will be there soon. He will know what to do,” Mirieth reassured him as she hushed his sobs with kisses before one of the other Healers lead the tearful mother and child to the healing hall. Tathar was relieved his son was not injured, but was deeply concerned for his friend, and asked leave to go with Thranduil.

“I know you are torn between your concern for Legolas and your son, but your place is with Faelas, just as mine is with Legolas,” Thranduil told the young adar, who nodded his thanks at having the difficult decision made for him and headed swiftly for the healing house.

Thranduil offered the men some refreshments before they returned to find Legolas, and when Gilbard declined, saying that they may be needed as guides, Thranduil managed a weak smile.

“You have time to rest without concern, for my people will easily be able to track my son. You are welcome to wait here until we return, if you wish,” he added.

“Thank you, but no. We also have families who will be very worried about our absence,” he told the King. Thranduil nodded with complete understanding.

“Then we are ready to leave now, perhaps you will ride with me so we can discuss this attack?” he suggested. Gilbard readily agreed, and by the time they reached Legolas, the Elvenking and the leader of the village had agreed to exchange information about any unusual creatures or happenings that occurred in the part of the forest they shared.

Thranduil felt the sting of fear as he saw Legolas lying in the grass, and he moved swiftly to his son’s side, unknowingly mimicking Faelas as he pushed a few stray hairs from the his brow and then kissed him gently. Taking one of the cold, seemingly lifeless hands in his, he looked up at the Healer.

“The arrow head that caused the injury was indeed poisoned, Your Majesty, but, thank the Valar, by one of the more commonly used substances. I have given him the antidote, but I expect it will be several weeks before he has fully recovered,” the Elf explained.

“That is good news, and now that we have done our duty, we will take our leave,” Gilbard said to Thranduil.

“I am truly thankful to you and your men, both for protecting Legolas and for seeing Faelas safely home. Should you ever require the assistance of the Wood Elves, you have but to ask,” Thranduil said graciously, placing his hand on his heart in a gesture of both respect and farewell.

Thranduil took a seat beside the bed and held his son’s limp hand between his two strong ones, silently offering love and strength to aid in his recovery. The Healer stood on the other side of the bed and wiped the beads of sweat from Legolas’s brow as his fever increased and his body shivered uncontrollably. At times he would cry out a warning to an unseen danger, as if believing he was still on patrol, and whenever he tried to sit up in some reflex movement, Thranduil would hold him until he settled, and then gently ease the still form back onto his pillows.

“How much longer will he be subject to these bouts of fever and delirium?” the King asked as he straightened the bedcovers and resumed his vigil.

“His symptoms are merely the result of the antidote ridding his blood of the poison, and I expect it to run its course by the morning,” replied the Healer calmly as he placed a cool, damp cloth on his patient’s brow.

“Then would you please inform Tariel that I will be taking my evening meal here?” asked Thranduil, his eyes never once leaving his son’s face.

“Legolas is no longer in danger Your Majesty, and since I will be checking on him every hour there is no need for you to stay with him tonight. I think it would serve you well to get some rest,” said the Healer who was also concerned for his King’s well being. He had never seen Thranduil look so weary, and although the cause was sufficient, neither had he seen such fear in his eyes.

“There will be plenty of time for sleep, later. Legolas needs me,” he said, dismissing the advice as he brushed a stray lock of hair from his son’s cheek.

“As you wish.” There was no point arguing with a determined Thranduil, as most of his court well knew. “Tariel is sending Tathar’s meal to Faelas’s room, so she may as well send one here at the same time,” the Healer informed Thranduil with understanding in his words and a warm smile as he nodded at Thranduil’s questioning look. “Ai, it seems that I am unable to pry either Adar from their sons’ sides tonight.”

Later that evening there was a soft knock on the door, and without taking his eyes from Legolas, Thranduil called for the maid to enter and leave his tray on the small table by the open balcony doors.

“How is he?” Tariel asked in a whisper as she stood beside Thranduil’s chair after setting the table with a light meal. The King, although surprised to see her, acknowledged his dear friend’s presence with a grateful smile, and then turned his attention back to his son.

“The fever is slowly fading, and he seems to be much more settled,” he replied, sounding as relieved as he looked. “How is Faelas?” he asked in return. In truth he had thought little about the child since Legolas was found, but he was nonetheless concerned.

“Sleeping peacefully in Tathar’s arms,” she answered with an affectionate gleam in her eye at the image. Thranduil sighed and managed a genuine smile for a kindred spirit who had also suffered the loss of many dear ones, and did not wish to lose another.

“I would that Legolas was still young enough to allow such comfort from his Adar,” he said wistfully.

“That you are here is enough, now go and eat your meal before it gets cold,” she dared to order the King, lightly kissing his cheek in a very motherly fashion as she sat on the edge of the bed and gently took Legolas’s hand when Thranduil reluctantly relinquished his hold. Thranduil ate hurriedly, becoming increasingly worried as he noticed that Legolas seemed to become more restless, thrashing his head from side to side, moaning as if in pain. The feverish young Elf settled quickly when Thranduil returned to his side, and Tariel merely cast a knowing glance at them both.

“It seems he needs your comforting presence more than you know, perhaps he is not yet too old… ?" she suggested as she collected the tray and left the room.

Thranduil considered her words for a moment, and then decided to act as his heart demanded. He carefully lay on the covers beside his son, and drew him into his strong arms. A single tear trailed down his cheek as Legolas snuggled a little closer and lay his head on his shoulder, and in a brief but lucid moment, whispered a single word… “Adar…”.

“Now that is a better remedy… for you both, I might add,” commented the Healer, pleased at the sight that greeted him as he returned to check on Legolas. “Nay, stay where you are, Your Majesty,” he said as Thranduil made to rise to allow the examination. “It seems that your ‘medicine’ is working quite well, and although the poison is not yet gone, he is merely sleeping now. I will not disturb you again, for a restful sleep will do neither of you any harm. Should you need me, I will be spending the night in the room across the hallway.”

“Thank you,” said Thranduil as he once more settled himself next to his son.

As the first rays of morning sunlight filtered into the room, Thranduil was awoken by a touch on his cheek, and the now fully aware eyes of his son focussed on him.

“Can I have some water, Adar?” rasped Legolas as he tried to speak with a dry throat.

“Of course,” replied Thranduil rising quickly to pour a goblet of water. “Do you need help with this?” he asked as Legolas tried vainly to push himself into a sitting position. He merely nodded. Thranduil sat beside his son and placed his arm around his shoulders to support him into a slightly sitting position. Legolas took a few large sips of the refreshing water, then lay wearily back in the bed.

“Thank you, Adar, that was exactly what I needed,” he said, the love and affection in Legolas’s eyes telling Thranduil that it was not for the water, but for his presence by his side during the night as he healed for which his son was grateful.

“You are my son, and all the family I have left in Middle-earth, where else would I be?” asked Thranduil. “Besides, Tariel practically ordered me to stay,” he added, his heart filled with joy to hear Legolas’s soft laughter at the jest.

“Ah, I am glad to see you in such good humour, Legolas,” said the Healer as Thranduil opened the door to allow him to enter.

“As it is to be expected when an Elf has not the sense to dodge a poisoned arrow,” admonished the Healer playfully. “I should warn you that you can expect to feel this weakness for several weeks.” Legolas grimaced at that notion.

“I do not have to stay in bed all that time, do I?” he asked, fearing the reply. Being ill was a new experience, but being confined to bed would be torture. Already he longed for the fresh air and the soft voices of the trees.

“Nay, but I doubt you will feel like doing anything but sleep for the next few days,” said the Healer. “Now that you are feeling a little better, I will allow your eager young visitor a few moments.”

The Healer nodded to Thranduil, who stepped outside the room and invited Faelas, Mirieth and Tathar to enter. Rather than run to the bed as he would usually do, the child approached cautiously, obviously having been warned to be mindful of disturbing Legolas’s rest.

“You are awake!” Faelas exclaimed needlessly, eagerly stepping up to the bed and gingerly touching Legolas’s injured shoulder. “Does it hurt much?” he asked.

“Nay, the graze is almost healed, but the effects of the poison still linger,” he answered as he pat the bed in a silent invitation for Faelas to climb up next to him.

“I thought you were going to die, like those horrible orcs,” said the child. Legolas felt the small body shoulder with fear as he placed his uninjured arm about his shoulders.

“I was too afraid to die, for you were right, your Adar would have been most annoyed with me if I had, is that not so?” he asked Tathar who had come to stand by the bed.

“Indeed, I would have,” declared Tathar, the look he favoured his lifelong friend with left Legolas in no doubt as to the pain Tathar would have felt at his loss, as well as the joy and relief that he was safe and well.

“Ai, but I could not answer. You were very brave to go for help on your own,” he said.

“Then who were you with?” asked Legolas curiously, thinking that perhaps one of the patrols had come to his aid.

“Some men who were hunting the orcs,” replied Faelas. Legolas raised an eyebrow in query, and Tathar explained what had occurred after Legolas had become unconscious.

“As soon as I am well enough, I must visit Gilbard’s village and thank him for his aid,” said Legolas.

“And I will accompany you, for I also have much to thank him for,” said Tathar as he placed a protective hand on Faelas’s small shoulder.

“I think it is time the visit was at an end,” ordered the Healer as Legolas’s eyes started to glaze in slumber. As Tathar and his family reached the door, Mirieth turned back to speak with Legolas.

“Thank you for protecting my son; it was the best conception day gift I have ever received. Sleep well, dear Legolas,” whispered Mirieth. As she bent to kiss his cheek, Legolas tiredly reached up to brush a tear from her eye, his hand falling back to the bed as he fell asleep.

“I meant it was time for ALL visitors to leave Your Majesty. Might I suggest you arrange a nice refreshing bath for yourself, and also perhaps for Legolas when he awakes?” Thranduil glared at the Healer’s impudence but decided to take his advice.

“So you have finally been declared fully recovered?” asked Tathar as he loosed another arrow at the target Legolas had made to resemble a particularly ugly Orc. It had been three weeks since the attack, and other than a few hours at the practice range, Legolas had been allowed no other strenuous activity.

“Ai, as from today I am allowed to return to my patrol,” Legolas answered, grunting with satisfaction as he scored a direct hit between the eyes of his target. “My patrol will be leaving as soon as you and I return from our trip to Gilbard’s village.” Tathar raised his eyebrows and laughed.

“Is this a royal command, or merely a request?” he teased, knowing full well it was the latter. In all their years of friendship, Legolas had never used his status as the King’s son to his own advantage. Legolas rolled his eyes in disgust.

“I intend to thank the men for their aid. I merely assumed you would wish to do likewise,” he answered.

“Of course I do and I know Faelas has made a gift for Gilbard. When do we leave?”

To Tathar’s surprise they left shortly after the midday meal, travelling swiftly through the treetops so as to reach their destination before nightfall.

“There have been many more reports of bands of orcs travelling through the woods after dark, do you intend to return tonight? ” asked Tathar as they easily followed the path that led to the village.

“Nay, I suspect we will be asked to spend the night with Gilbard and the others,” said Legolas confidently as he waved a greeting to the men who had come to meet them.

“What business brings two Elves this far from the wood?” asked one of the men, eyeing Legolas and Tathar with open suspicion.

“I am Legolas and this is Tathar. We are in search of Gilbard; do you know where he can be found?” Legolas responded exchanging a concerned glance with Tathar as they both wondered why they were not recognised.

“Aye, it has been many a long year since you two last came this way. We will take you to him, he has only just now returned from the hunt,” said another villager who apparently did recognise them.

“The other one must be new to the village,” whispered Tathar in a voice so soft only Legolas could hear.

“Ai, that must be so,” agreed Legolas, looking around at the familiar sight as they entered the village square.

“Legolas! Tathar! You are both most welcome!” declared a man who obviously knew them and was pleased to see them. Their apprehension vanished din the face of the affectionate welcome. This man was not the leader they had met before, and was of an age the Elves could not guess, but seemingly well into adulthood.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, we have come to see Gilbard and his hunters,” explained Legolas.

“I am Gilbard, the leader of both the hunters and the village,” replied the man. “Do you not recognise me?” he asked. Legolas searched his face, trying to recall what suddenly seemed so familiar about him, but it was not until Gilbard sang a few words of the song Legolas had sung to the village children on his last visit that the truth struck home.

“You are the child who asked all those questions about Elves!” he exclaimed, his brow momentarily creasing in a frown of confusion.

“But that was only a few years ago, was it not?” asked Tathar who was as confused as Legolas.

“Perhaps as time passes for Elves, but for us it was now many long years ago,” explained a grey haired old man who had come to greet the guests. “I am the leader you met, and Gilbard is my son, and should have had the manners to offer you refreshments before discussing the reason for your visit,” he said, directing the rebuke at his son.

“I do apologise, shall we go to the tavern? I think most of my hunters are still there, and you did wish to speak to us all,” he suggested to the Elves. Legolas and Tathar were too astounded to speak, for the swift march of mortal years had never been so apparent to them before. They silently followed Gilbard, trying to grasp the fact that the children they had met recently, as far as Elves measured time, were now adults, likely many with children of their own.

“Would you like some wine?” he asked as they took seats around the large table that was almost as long as the tavern.

“I mean no offence, but last time we were here, you had naught but ale,” said Tathar, at last finding his tongue.

“Aye, but King Thranduil sent us a few cases of wine in gratitude for assisting his son and the elf child, Faelas,” explained Gilbard.

“And a very fine drop it is too,” offered Gilbard’s father as he filled goblets for himself and the Elves who accepted the wine graciously.

“I think Thranduil’s thoughts were too heavily occupied elsewhere, it is likely his Steward made the gesture on the King’s behalf,” he replied.

“Tathar and I have come to your village to personally thank Gilbard and the others in his hunting party for their part in my rescue,” said Legolas as he bowed respectfully to Gilbard and his men.

“And I have come to also give my thanks to you all for assisting Faelas, my son. Words can not express my gratitude that he was safely escorted back to my wife and me,” added Tathar also bowing to his son’s rescuers.

“You are both very welcome. We are pleased to see you have recovered, Legolas. For a time I thought that even your Healer would not be able to save you. Your son is a sweet child, Tathar, and very fond of Legolas. He was very courageous and I hope you and your good lady wife how are proud of him,” said Gilbard.

“Indeed we are, and I have a small gift to give you. Faelas made this himself,” Tathar told the man as he handed him a small wooden whistle. “Faelas said to tell you the sound will scare orcs away, but I would not rely solely on this as a defence. It is but a child’s toy,” he warned.

“Tell Faelas he displays much skill with his carving, and that we will cherish his gift. We will also heed your advice,” said Gilbard as he passed the whistle around for his men to admire.

“Your father offered to exchange information regarding any strange occurrences in this part of the forest. Have you any news to share?” Gilbard asked Legolas.

“I have only just recovered my health, and so have not been on patrol, but those that have been have reported increased orc activity, both in numbers and attacks in the north and the south,” replied Legolas, suddenly shivering as his blood seemed to chill.

“Legolas are you well?” asked Tathar with concern as he noticed his friend turn quite pale. Legolas rested his head in his hands, allowing himself a moment to gather his composure before replying with a voice that could not totally repress his fear.

“The cold darkness of the shadow has returned to Dol Guldur.” His words sent fear through all in the tavern, and as one the men ceased their conversations and turned to stare at the Elf.

“How do you know that?” asked Gilbard, who instinctively knew he could believe Legolas, but asked the question for the benefit of the others.

As the colonies of spiders grew larger and more dangerous, and Thranduil’s patrols were attacked more often by bands of orcs of ever increasing numbers and ferocity, it soon became apparent to all the Wood Elves, not just those like Thranduil and Legolas who had felt the that shadow had returned, that the tendrils of darkness spread ever northwards.

No matter how cautious, or well trained the warriors were, many suffered injuries in the skirmishes, and every time one took the journey to the Halls of Mandos, Thranduil mourned the loss deeply, his grief turning to both anger and frustration at the strength of the evil that had come to his beloved forest. He had used all his powers of enchantment to protect the Elf Path, as well as his own gates but he was battle hardened enough to realise that should his realm be invaded, it would also take the skill of all his warriors to defeat the enemy.

The message he had just received informed him that two of his most experienced warriors on one of the northern watches had been killed and he angrily crushed the parchment and threw it to the floor as he went to mark the location of this latest attack on the map that covered his desk. There were far too many such marks and in a moment of utter despair, he roughly scored out the elegantly written “Greenwood the Great” and replaced the name with a hastily scrawled “Mirkwood”, for that was what his forest had become.

“Mirkwood, Adar?” queried Legolas as he moved from the doorway where he had been standing, watching his Adar’s response to the ill news, to stand by Thranduil’s side.

“Ai, and so it shall remain until the shadow is finally defeated,” Thranduil replied angrily. “Is that another message of death you carry?” he asked cynically, pointing to the scroll in his son’s hand.

“I do not think so, Adar. It is from Imladris,” replied Legolas as he handed the letter to the King. Thranduil read it quickly and allowed a small but brief sigh of relief to escape his lips before laughing bitterly at the content.

“I have been summoned to a council meeting to discuss the threat of the shadow and how best to defend against it. I wonder what advice on such matters Elrond and Celeborn can offer that I have not already tried,” he said in a voice that was both weary and laced with sarcasm.

“Perhaps it is your advice they seek, after all you have had far more dealings with these creatures of darkness than the other realms,” suggested Legolas taking a more positive approach. Thranduil actually smiled.

“Such a loyal son you are, Legolas, and so willing to see the good in others. Those qualities help make you the fine leader you are, and I am very proud of you,” said Thranduil as he placed an affectionate arm about his son’s shoulders. “I will answer this summons, and you will remain here and rule in my stead until I return.”

Of all the duties Legolas was required to attend to as “King” the one he was least fond of was the morning audience session. As he listened with less than his full attention to the various petitions, he wondered how Thranduil endured both the exceedingly boring task, as well as the decidedly uncomfortable throne. The play of the sunlight amongst the leaves that danced in the crisp breeze was far more fascinating and enticing and Legolas longed to be able to walk in the forest on such a beautiful day. “No wonder Adar is in a foul mood after these sessions,” he thought rather uncharitably.

His interest in the task at hand suddenly returned as Faelas appeared as the next petitioner. The young Elf, who was nearing his majority, bowed respectfully to Legolas and waited permission to speak.

“I take it this is official business, Faelas? What is it you wish to ask?” enquired Legolas politely, trying hard to remain formal with his friend although he actually felt a little foolish speaking to the young one in this manner.

“I request permission to visit Gilbard’s village. I have heard from one of the scouts that he is not well and I wish to pay my respects,” replied Faelas with equal formality. Legolas frowned slightly at the request, and the difficult decision he must give. He knew of the man’s illness but Thranduil had decreed that all visits outside the forest were no longer to be allowed. The danger from unpredictable orc attacks was far too great in these dark times.

“Has not the King, and your Adar for that matter, already refused you permission to go?” he asked his manner now serious.

“Ai, but you understand why I must go. Gilbard saved both our lives, surely we owe him such a courtesy,” insisted Faelas. Legolas sighed, the young Elf was right, but his duty to his King came first.

“I do understand, but I am sorry, I cannot allow you to go. Your petition is denied,” said Legolas sounding very much like the King he might one day become.

“Then I will simply go anyway, you cannot stop me!” shouted Faelas angrily, glaring defiantly at Legolas.

“Oh, but you are mistaken,” replied Legolas with steel in his voice. With a nod of his head two guards moved to flank Faelas, who stared in disbelief at Legolas. “I can have you placed under guard if necessary, but I hope that you will respect my decision.”

“The guards will not be necessary, Your Highness,” replied Faelas coldly as he turned without even looking at Legolas and left the audience hall.

“I wish I could trust him but I remember what it was like being his age,” said Legolas to his Adar’s Steward, who nodded his agreement, smiling with amusement at what he imagined Thranduil would say when told of Legolas’s last comment.

“You are still young, Your Highness, but have developed a maturity the King should be proud of,” he told his young charge.

“I do sound like Adar today, do I not? Well, have him watched for a few days, but not openly,” he ordered, choosing a course of action he was certain Thranduil would have taken, and that he hoped would protect Faelas from his own rebellious nature.

Unfortunately, Legolas had misjudged Faelas’s determination, and was both surprised and annoyed to hear from Mirieth that the young Elf and two of his friends had given the guards some wine laced with a sleeping potion and then disappeared.

“They have been gone over a day,” the young Elf’s distraught Naneth told Legolas. “He was so angry with you that he would not listen to reason. I tried to explain that you were only obeying the King, as he should do, but with Tathar away at Imladris with your Adar, he has become difficult to deal with,” she explained.

“We know where he has gone, and I will lead a party to the village to bring him home safely,” he reassured Mirieth as he held her in a comforting embrace.

“Make sure he is aware of the enormity of his disobedience, and tell him that Tariel is waiting to speak with him,” she added meaningfully. The elder Elf was almost as fearsome as Thranduil when she was angry, as they both well knew. Faelas would be sorry he earned her displeasure.

As they swiftly travelled the Path, a sense of foreboding crept into Legolas’s heart, and he saw that the others also heard the whisper of death through the trees. They increased their pace, arriving to find the village aflame and under attack by orcs. Legolas and his patrol quickly joined the battle, and soon there were none of the ugly creatures left alive. To their dismay, none of the villagers appeared to have survived either, and as Legolas searched the carnage for signs of life, he was filled with grief at the sight of the many dead, not just men, but women and children as well.

In an act of pure hatred, Legolas kicked the body of one of the creatures, his heart sinking into despair as he recognised one of Faelas’s arrows protruding from its head. It took only a few moments before Legolas’s worst fear was realised, and he rushed to the body of his son’s friend, and held him close as he wept unashamedly. A gentle touch on his shoulder interrupted his grieving, and he looked up into the mournful eyes of his second.

Legolas tenderly lay Faelas back on the ground, stood and straightened his shoulders and walked over to where the others were gathered, softly singing a lament for the other two young Elves who had also not survived. Legolas joined in the mournful song and as the last note drifted away, he spoke quietly to his patrol.

“I have not the heart to ask anyone else to witness this atrocity, so if you agree, we will build a mass grave for Gilbard and his people, and then carry our dead back to their kin,” he said, pleased to see the nods of approval.

The elves spent the rest of the day taking care of the dead, and it was well into twilight before they were ready to return. Despite the danger of travelling through the forest at night, none wanted to remain in the village a moment longer than necessary. They had made three stretchers to carry their own, and it was a grief stricken party, now covered with both blood and dirt that made their way back to the King’s Halls.

They had barely travelled more than a few miles when they were met by a large group of warriors, lead by Thranduil’s Steward.

“One of the other watches reported seeing smoke and hearing a disturbance near the village, and we came to assist. Far too late, it seems,” he said sadly as he recognised the burden Legolas was helping to bear. “Your Highness, perhaps it would be wise to go on ahead with some of my patrol and offer what comfort you can to the families of these three,” he suggested.

“Ai, I think that would be wise, I know Adar always speaks to the families of the lost, but what shall I say?” he asked, suddenly wishing Thranduil was here to deal with the difficult task. “My grief is too near for me to think clearly,” he added as he reluctantly handed his end of Faelas’s stretcher to another.

“The words will come, and if not, simply let them know that their sons died bravely in defence of others as befits warriors of Mirkwood,” advised the Steward kindly as he removed his tunic and handed it to Legolas, who looked confused at the offering until he heard the explanation for it. “I do not recommend delivering your news while you are still covered in blood,” said the Steward grimly.

Legolas had barely reached the bridge before the gates when Mirieth ran to greet him.

“Where is Faelas?” she whispered as she searched Legolas’s face. The pain and grief in his eyes was all the answer she needed, and she collapsed into his arms sobbing uncontrollably. “Please tell me it is not true,” she begged through her tears. “My beloved son can not have gone to the Halls of Waiting; he was to celebrate his majority in a few short weeks. Tell me it is not true, Legolas, I beg of you,” she implored, every word she spoke was as a knife in his heart.

“If I could do so, I would, but to tell you other than that he is no longer living would be a lie. But know this, if I could change places with him to ease your pain, then I would gladly do it,” he said, holding her chin so that she could not avoid seeing the truth in his eyes. Tears welled in Mirieth’s eyes at the compassion in his voice, and he stood there, holding her until Tariel arrived. He could see that she had also been weeping, and he kissed the elder Elf softly on the cheek as she tenderly took Mirieth from his arms, replacing them with her own.

“You have others to speak to, Legolas. I will care for her until Tathar returns,” she told him. Legolas felt his grief overwhelm him again as he thought of Tathar, so far way in Imladris, knowing naught of this dark day. He knew he would have to send a message to Thranduil, but first he needed to speak with the parents of Faelas’s friends. As he spoke to each of them he somehow found it within himself to say the right words, and in a small way eased their pain. It was an extremely draining experience, yet he managed to present a strong, compassionate face that dissolved instantly into tears when he finally retired to the privacy of his chambers. He threw himself on the bed, and as he had not done since the day Elisiel left, he cried himself to sleep, never feeling more alone.

A soft knock on the door several hours later forced him from his reverie, and he almost managed a smile as the Steward entered, bearing a tray of fresh fruit and cheese, and a bottle of his Adar’s private stock of Dorwinion.

“The wine will help ease the pain, and the food will give you strength, Your Highness,” he said as he handed Legolas a goblet of wine. “When you are refreshed, you need to send word of this tragedy to the King… and Tathar.”

The council meetings were long and drawn out to Thranduil’s way of thinking and he was relieved when a halt was called for the day. He had accepted Elrond’s offer of a walk in one of his favourite gardens, and they spoke of their sons, the beauty of the day and anything else other than the business at hand. It was there that the messenger from Mirkwood found his King and Elrond sat quietly on one of the stone benches as Thranduil read the news from Legolas. The King of Mirkwood paled considerably, and stumbled to sit beside Elrond before he fell.

“Very,” he replied and handed him the missive. Elrond read it quickly and then asked the messenger to send Tathar to the garden.

“I shall give you privacy to speak to your young guard, but if you need assistance I will wait in my study,” he said to the distraught King. Thranduil nodded his thanks, and reread the message slowly as he collected his thoughts. He knew Legolas must also be suffering badly, and wished he was back in Mirkwood to comfort him, but he was not, and Tathar would need him even more than Legolas did.

“I have received some very bad news from Mirkwood, from Legolas, and I need to tell you of it,” stated Thranduil. There was mo easy way to say it, so he chose to be straightforward. “It seems that Faelas and his friends went to visit Gilbard. While they were at the village it was attacked by orcs. There were no survivors,” he said.

“Gilbard is dead? And why would Faelas disobey us both and to go to the village?” asked Tathar, deliberately misunderstanding. Thranduil could feel the young Elf’s heartbeat racing madly in his panic, and saw the depth of fear in his eyes.

“Ai, Gilbard is dead, and why Faelas chose to disobey is something we will never learn… your son is also dead,” he said, quickly gathering Tathar into his arms as the garden echoed with the piercing scream of “ NO!” as the young Adar’s heart broke.

“Do not be ashamed of the tears,” he whispered as he let his own flow freely. Thranduil offered all the comfort he could until finally Tathar’s tears were spent.

“I must return to Mirieth at once,” he said to Thranduil, suddenly realising how much she must need him.

“Of course. You and your patrol should leave as soon as possible, I will return as soon as my business here is concluded. Although I will not feel as safe with a guard from Imladris as I would with my own, Elrond’s warriors are well trained, and I expect he has already asked Glorfindel or Erestor see to your travel preparations,” Thranduil told Tathar.

“Are you not also returning to Mirkwood? Legolas will no doubt be distraught,” said Tathar thinking of his friend despite his own grief.

“Ai, he will, but as I said, my task here is not yet completed, and Legolas will surely understand, as I hope you do, that the shadow threatens all of Middle-earth, not just Mirkwood. It behoves me to do all I can to defend against the Dark Lord, just as my Adar did so long ago. Thus I must remain,” explained Thranduil. The warrior in Tathar understood full well. Faelas was not the first Mirkwood Elf to travel to Mandos’s Halls, nor would he likely be the last. The King had to do what he could to protect all his subjects. When considered in that light, the Adar in him had no choice but to concede that the King was right.

Thranduil had assumed Elrond’s actions correctly, and once his guard had been informed of the reason for their sudden return to Mirkwood, he was not surprised to find their horses ready and waiting at the gates.

“Come, Thranduil, I know this is a difficult time for you, but perhaps a sleeping potion would help?” offered Elrond as he led the King to his chambers.

“Nay, I need no such potion, but a glass of wine will suffice,” he said as he stepped out onto the balcony and watched his Elves disappear into the distance, taking his heart with them.

The journey to Mirkwood was both uneventful and extremely depressing for all, and could not end quickly enough for Tathar. As the trees near the Elf Path came into view, he was reminded of a happier time, the day when he had stood under the eaves where Mirieth, Legolas and his patrol now were, and announced the conception of his son.

He felt as if Fate had turned him full circle, and as he rode quickly up to them, he felt his grief overwhelming him once again. Quickly dismounting, he threw himself into his wife’s welcome embrace and together mourned the loss of the sweet song they had created but would hear no more.

Legolas and the others had moved a discreet distance away from the grieving parents to allow them privacy, and were now sitting in a small clearing, Tathar’s patrol listening in horror as the events of that fateful day were described to them in far greater detail than had been given to most of Mirkwood.

“The foolish young ones, such a terrible way to pay for their mistakes,” said Tathar’s second shaking his head sorrowfully.

“Ai,” agreed one of the others, “but there is no doubt they fought and died as warriors.” Many heads nodded in silent agreement.

“How is Mirieth coping, Legolas? She looks quite pale and but a shadow of herself to my eyes,” commented. Peldir, Tathar’s second. He and his wife were also friends of Tathar and Mirieth.

“I hope she will fare better now that Tathar has returned, but I fear she may yet succumb to her grief,” he answered sadly.

“We have a long journey before us, perhaps I should brew her some tea. Lord Elrond gave me some herbs that he says eases heartache,” offered the Healer’s son, who was also a member of Tathar’s patrol.

“Then I hope he gave you enough for us all,” said one of Legolas’s warriors as he stood and began collecting small twigs and branches to build the fire. Soon a large pot of sweet smelling herbal tea was made, and the Elves drank the brew, sitting in silent contemplation as they waited for Tathar and Mirieth to join them.

“The tea smells delicious, may I have some?” asked Mirieth as she approached the group on her own. The Healer’s son quickly handed her a mug of the brew, informing her that it would make her feel a little stronger. Mirieth smiled her thanks and sat on the grass beside Peldir, but directed her words to Legolas who was seated slightly in front of them, his eyes fixed on Tathar.

“Legolas, Tathar would like a private word with you,” she said softly as she gently squeezed his hand to gain his attention.

“Of course,” he said as he stood and slowly made his way across the clearing to where his friend was now seated beneath one of the trees. The two seconds exchanged a meaningful glance, and directed their attention to their leaders, both ready to intervene if needed. Neither knew what form Tathar’s grief would take, but it was not uncommon for such deeply felt sorrow to turn to misplaced anger.

Legolas blamed himself for Faelas’s death, and he was certain Tathar would as well. He was not sure of what kind of reception he would receive from his friend, if indeed they still were friends, so he simply sat beside the grief stricken Elf and waited patiently for him to speak.

“Tell me everything that happened, Legolas,” whispered the distraught Adar locking eyes with those that were as haunted with almost as much grief and sorrow as his own. Legolas did not flinch from the gaze, and quickly explained the events of the day, his heart lightened by the spark of amusement that flashed for an instant in Tathar’s eyes as he was told of Legolas’s threat to have Faelas placed under guard.

“I should have done as I threatened rather than merely having him watched from afar, for then none of this would have happened,” said Legolas with anger at himself for his own inaction, and looking away as his grief was replaced with guilt.

“Mirieth also said her fist thought was that you should have done so, but she has come to realise you are not at fault. Faelas is… was… my son,” said Tathar, choking on the words. “He was very much like me in temperament, as you well know. I assure you, even had you placed him in the dungeons he would have found a way to escape.”

“That may be, but I was ruling in Adar’s absence, and was responsible for whatever happened in Mirkwood,” replied Legolas refusing to accept the comfort offered in Tathar’s words.

“Spoken like a true King, but I fail to see how you can hold yourself responsible for Faelas’s behaviour or blame yourself for his passing, when neither Mirieth nor I do. I am grateful that you did the best you could to protect my son, and for the love and friendship you shared with him.”

“Faelas was not. In fact we parted on very unfriendly terms, and were never given the chance to make amends,” said Legolas, unable to keep the tears of anguish from his eyes.

“I am certain it was merely his anger speaking, he loved you too much to let such a small disagreement break the bonds of friendship,” said Tathar with much compassion for his friend.

“My heart tells me that it is so, and had he obeyed me, I expect we would probably have been laughing at the whole incident at the evening meal,” sighed Legolas wearily, having more to say but finding it difficult to continue. “There are details of that day that Mirieth, and many others have not yet heard, nor will they for it is not a pleasant tale, but I will tell you if you wish to hear it.”

“Ai, I did not think Mirieth knew the whole truth, but I would hear it, no matter how painful,” said Tathar grimly. Legolas told him the details of the battle he and his warriors had joined, of the carnage in the village, and the courage and sorrow of the Elves as they performed the heartbreaking burial.

“It was I who found Faelas, fallen across Gilbard’s body, with several arrows in his chest. He must have been defending our friend, and taken the arrows meant for him. There was a dead orc nearby, with Faelas’s arrow through his skull, and a blood stained knife in his hand. I think he must have been the one who killed Gilbard,” Legolas said, for the first time really assessing the battle scene.

“Was Faelas alive when you found him?” Tathar managed to ask, needing to hear as much about his son’s last moments as possible. Legolas could do naught but shake his head as the painful memory tore at his heart.

“A brave, but disobedient warrior was my son,” said Tathar through his tears. “Mellon nin, you should not have had to bear such heartache on your own,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around his friend.

“It is nothing compared to yours,” said Legolas as he rested his head on Tathar’s shoulder in a gesture of affection that was a reminder of their younger days when the two friends had often sat in contented companionship beneath the stars, talking and singing and with no more cares than deciding which maid to dance with.

“I know how comforting it is to be held in strong arms, to have someone there to share the grief, and the tears. Had Thranduil not been there, I may not have survived the pain,” admitted Tathar.

“How is Adar?” asked Legolas, momentarily envying his friend for having received the comfort he also needed. “I assume his business with the White Council kept him from returning home?”

“Ai, he said you would understand but I am certain he would rather have left with us. Do you also know what happened to Faelas’s young friends?” asked Tathar, quickly returning the conversation to the attack on the village.

“The two with him fell defending a group of children, but I have not the heart to describe that atrocity, other than to say that the foul creatures spared no-one, not even the babes,” he said with hatred in his voice more intense than Tathar had ever heard before.

“Then you and I must make a pact… whenever we come across a band of these minions of evil, we will be certain to leave none of them alive!” declared Tathar, taking Legolas’s arm in the warrior’s grip.

“Agreed!” replied Legolas, gripping Tathar’s arm in return. Across the glade, the two seconds smiled with relief, and echoed their leaders’ gestures.

“I do not wish to add to your grief, but there is something else you should know, mellon nin,” Legolas said before he and Tathar walked over to join the others. Tathar raised his eyebrow in query. “Mirieth is not well. Even your warriors have noted the change in her. Your presence is only reason she is here rather than still abed in your chambers. We had to travel slowly due to her weakened condition,” Legolas said sadly.

“I felt something amiss, has the Healer attended her?” Tathar asked, his concern for his wife pushing his grief aside for the moment.

“Ai, he thinks she is beginning to fade, that the grief of her loss is too much to bear. I am so sorry, mellon nin. Perhaps she will recover now that you are returned.” Legolas tried to sound hopeful, but knew both the Healer and Tariel were convinced it would not be long before Mirieth sought the sanctuary of Valinor.

“I am sure she will, have no fear, Legolas,” replied Tathar reassuringly. They walked back to join the others and as soon as he was close to his wife, Tathar reached for Mirieth’s hand and drew her into his arms, giving her what strength he could.

“If you feel refreshed, Mirieth, I think it is time we returned home,” he said.

“May I suggest that we return to Imladris, to escort the King back to Mirkwood when he is ready to leave?” asked one of the King’s guards.

“Do you not trust the guard Imladris will surely provide in our absence?” asked Legolas as he looked to Tathar to answer for his warriors.

“It is not a matter of trust, but a matter of duty. It is our duty to escort the King when he travels, and since you have your own guard, I see no reason for his not to see to his safety,” replied Tathar.

“In other words, you do not think Lord Elrond’s warriors are capable of protecting Adar,” teased Legolas.

“But you will not go, will you Tathar?” asked Mirieth, suddenly looking very pale.

“Nay, he will be escorting no one but you, Mirieth,” said Legolas in his most regal voice. “The rest of your patrol may return to escort Adar, and should he question your reappearance, tell him that you were sent by royal command,” Legolas told Peldir with a mischievous wink.

“I doubt that even I would dare to speak such impertinence to the King!” exclaimed Tathar, with the barest hint of a smile at the astonished look on his second’s face.

For the first time in many weeks, the sound of silvery elvish laughter rang through the trees.

Once the White Council had finally adjourned, Elrond assigned his sons to lead the party that was to escort Thranduil back to Mirkwood. They had already completed the passage through the Misty Mountains when the Mirkwood warriors met them and as Legolas had assumed he would, the King asked for an explanation as to why his guard had returned. Thranduil tried to scowl with disapproval, rather than smile at his son’s impudence but failed miserably, he was far too relieved to know that Legolas was in reasonably good spirits.

“I think we should make haste to return to Mirkwood, before I no longer have a realm to rule,” he declared, deciding to add his own humour to the situation, his words causing amused glances to be exchanged between his guards and the escorts from Imladris.

“I thank you for seeing to our King’s safety, but we will take charge of that duty now,” Peldir said politely, offering Elladan and Elrohir a respectful bow.

“It was our honour to do so,” replied Elladan, bowing in return and relinquishing the King to his own guard.

“I also thank you for your assistance, and wish you to know that you are welcome to visit Mirkwood, even in these troubled times,” offered Thranduil generously.

“We will be pleased to do so, should the opportunity arise,” replied Elrohir.

The morning audience session was almost at an end when Legolas received word that Thranduil’s party had returned, yet, as anxious as he was to speak with his Adar, he nonetheless returned his attention to the matters at hand. He listened patiently to the last petitioner, agreeing finally to his request just as Thranduil entered his Hall and strode purposefully up to his son.

“Legolas, I hardly recognised you. I thought you had ‘lost’ that piece of jewellery many years ago,” he teased, pointing to the thin silver circlet Legolas wore as befit his current status. Legolas self consciously touched the circlet, and smiled affectionately at his Adar’s unusual greeting in front of the many Elves who were present.

“No, it has seen quite a bit of use recently, but I will gladly return it to its hiding place now that you have returned,” he answered, quickly stepping down from the throne and indicating Thranduil should resume his seat.

“Have you not forgotten something?” asked the King as he noticed his Steward had discreetly cleared the Hall. Legolas noticed too and wasted not another second before he fell into his Adar’s open arms and let his tears flow once more. Thranduil held him until his grief was spent, and then released him with a tender kiss to his brow.

“Now, tell me everything that has happened,” said Thranduil, sitting on the steps leading to the throne and indicting for Legolas to do likewise. Legolas felt an enormous sense of relief as his words flowed, and the one who knew him best listened with both his ears and his heart.

“The weight of responsibility is such a huge burden, I did not really understand until these past weeks just how hard it must be for you, Adar. I can not tell you how deeply I regret having made it even more difficult for you by my and Tathar’s rebellious behaviour over the years. I am so sorry,” said Legolas sincerely.

“You need not apologise for being who you are, Legolas. All young ones must test their limits at some time. I am only sorry you had to learn the burden of leadership in such a terrible way,” replied Thranduil as he looked at the shadows that had grown much longer since he had arrived. “We have been here for hours, and now I must go and speak with Tariel. Perhaps you should go for a walk in the woods before the evening meal? The trees are whispering a sweet song that will ease your heart.”

“Ai, I would like that,” agreed Legolas, quickly embracing Thranduil again, and kissing his cheek before he left the Hall.

He returned several hours later and was surprised to find that Thranduil had ordered a feast for that evening.

“Adar, I do not think this is the time for merrymaking,” he said with concern.

“I see you have not yet learned all there is to being a ruler,” replied Thranduil enigmatically as they took their places at the head table. He did not elaborate further during the meal, which was excellent as always, although enjoyed in rather a subdued manner by all. Finally the tables were cleared and the King rose to address his people.

“My friends, a terrible tragedy has occurred recently, but I remind you that Faelas and his friends are not the only warriors who have gone to the Halls of Mandos. The shadow that haunts our forest has taken others, and we will sing a lament for them all, but let this be the last tine it is necessary,” he said with the fire of determination in his eyes as he directed his last word to the warriors, who raised their glasses in agreement. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he began to sing, in a soft, sad voice, and before long many sweet, melancholy voices were added to the lament. As the final notes faded into the night, Thranduil stood and walked to where Tariel was sitting, and offered his hand.

“If you would, my lady?” he asked, returning her knowing smile as she accepted his offer.

As he led her to the dance floor, the musicians began playing one of the lively tunes favoured by the Woodland Realm, and soon the Hall was filled with the sounds of joy rather than sadness.

“Elladan! Behind you!” shouted Elrohir as he chased his quarry past where his brother was busy fighting several of the evil creatures that were quickly taken care of and, in a blink of an eye Elladan turned and faced the orc who was wielding his sword to deliver what would in all likelihood have been a fatal blow. He dispatched him before he could strike, and then followed Elrohir, who was still chasing the remnants of the band of orcs they had been hunting for several days.

“They are headed towards Mirkwood!” called Elladan as he caught up with his brother.

“Ai, but they seem reluctant to enter this part of the forest, dark though it is,” observed Elrohir, as the orcs changed direction so that they were now skirting the edge of the forest.

“Well, they need not fear, for I intend to see they go neither into the forest, nor any further!” declared Elladan with a fierce hatred in his voice, matched only by that of Elrohir’s. Without another word, the brothers stopped their flight and nocked their bows, their skilled aim easily finding their targets as the remaining four orcs fell.

“Good riddance!” hissed Elladan as he checked to make sure the creatures would hunt no more.

“Shall we see why even these dark ones were wary of entering Thranduil’s forest?” asked Elrohir who had spotted the trees that formed the gateway to the Elf Path.

“I do not see why not, after all it is well past midnight, and we need to rest before we make our way back. Perhaps we will find shelter among the trees,” agreed Elladan.

After they had walked for several hours, barely able to see with no starlight or moonlight penetrating the thick canopy, they were both wondering if the orcs had not had the right of it. Although neither could see the creatures that made the scuffling noises and other strange sounds they heard, they could see beady eyes in the trees that glowed an evil red in the blackness of night.

“Do you suppose they are the spiders Thranduil told us about?” asked Elladan, keeping his voice to a whisper so as not to attract any more unwanted attention.

“Why not ask them?” suggested Elrohir smiling with nervous amusement as even in the darkness he could see his brother’s glare of disbelief. “Did Thranduil not say they could speak?”

“I have no intention of finding out, Elrohir, and neither do you,” declared the elder of the two sternly, knowing this was no time for his brother to indulge his curiosity. “At least they seem afraid to venture onto the path, so let us simply follow it until we reach a less unwholesome part of the forest.”

They were both relieved when they finally reached the inky black waters of the Enchanted River, and were met by several of the Wood Elves who protected this part of Mirkwood. The sons of Elrond introduced themselves, and as Thranduil had promised, were welcomed to the Woodland Realm. The guards offered them the shelter of their talan for the night, and an escort for the remaining distance to the King’s Halls.

Although they had not planned to stay, Elladan and Elrohir decided that it would be most impolite not to pay their respects to Thranduil, who was both pleased and surprised to see them arrive several days later.

“I have not heard from Elrond in quite some time. What brings you two here so unexpectedly?” he asked that evening as they enjoyed Tariel’s cooking and the King’s fine wine. The twins exchanged a look that was filled with pain and grief and when Elladan answered, his voice told of a deep heartache and much anger. Everyone at Thranduil’s table listened with compassion as they heard of the attack on Celebrían, of Elrond’s inability to ease her spirit and of her final journey to the Havens.

“We intend to rid Middle-earth of as many of those creatures as possible,” vowed Elrohir vehemently.

“And well we understand your need for vengeance,” said Tathar speaking with his own grief, as Elladan’s tale reopened the wound in his heart.

“It is indeed grave news, and it fills my heart with sadness to hear that your lovely Naneth suffered so,” said Thranduil compassionately. “I must ask that you take a message of sympathy to Elrond for me when you return,” he added. Elladan nodded.

“We should also take any information you have regarding the threat from both the north and the south. What news do you hear?” he asked, ever the warrior.

“It has been many a long year since the last Wood Elf died fighting orcs, for we have become far more cautious in our approach to dealing with the enemy, and we do not venture close to Dol Guldur since Saruman insisted that he and his Order would look to that threat. As you are undoubtedly aware, there is an ever increasing number of orcs and other creatures in the caves under the Misty Mountains, and those untrustworthy Dwarves are scaring the men of Dale and Laketown with talk of wolves and bats assembling in the north.,” added Thranduil, his dislike for the dwellers in the Iron Hills more than apparent.

“Mirkwood is constantly under threat, and many have heard reports from Lothlórien that orcs often attempt to invade the Golden Wood. Now it seems even Imladris is being touched by the shadow that stretches ever longer as the darkness falls,” commented Legolas sadly.

“According to Adar, the shadow is likely to threaten the whole of Middle-earth in the future,” added Elrohir.

“We will not allow darkness to prevail in Mirkwood, or anywhere else,” said Thranduil confidently. “How long before you must return home?” he asked Elladan, hoping to change the melancholy mood of the conversation to something a little less serious. Elladan did not disappoint as he leaned closer to Thranduil, and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

“We must remain for at least as long as it takes Elrohir to see a spider, for he is most curious about a creature that even orcs avoid.”

“Ai, but they are also clever and a great challenge to hunt,” added Legolas, smiling at Tathar who nodded his agreement. It was a pastime he and Legolas had often enjoyed before they assumed their responsibilities as patrol leaders, made even more exciting by the fact that they were usually doing so without permission.

“We like nothing better than a challenge, do we brother?” Elladan asked Elrohir.

“Tathar speaks the truth when he says they are dangerous and I do not approve of merely hunting the spiders for pleasure. To do so is to take unnecessary risks,” said Thranduil staring pointedly at both Legolas and Tathar, who cringed as they realised their escapades were well known to the King. Thranduil merely raised an eyebrow in affirmation of their fears, and smiled inwardly as all four of the younger Elves could not hide their disappointment at the prospect of their plans being so short-lived. It was disappointment that quickly turned to elation when he continued.

“However, I have had reports of a small lair that has been found far too close to the Path for my liking, and I would see it removed. Since you are all now well proven warriors, and it would serve the sons of Elrond well to learn about any other dangers they may face besides orcs, I will allow you to undertake such a hunt on this occasion.”

All spoke at once offering their thanks and assurances that they would be careful, and sounding very much like a group of excited children, Thranduil thought with amusement. Legolas wisely insisted they ask for an extra supply of antidote, and Elladan became very interested in spider venom and how to counter it. He eagerly accepted Legolas’s offer to accompany him to speak with the Healer.

“We saw no spiders on our way here. How long will it take to reach the lair?” asked Elrohir after they had been travelling most of the day and at Legolas’s insistence had made camp for the night.

“I expect to be there by mid afternoon tomorrow, and although you did not see them, you can be certain they saw you, as they do even now. Both Tathar and I can feel them,” replied Legolas, smiling as both Elladan and Elrohir, who sensed nothing out of the ordinary looked about nervously. Elladan had told his brother of the effect of the venom, and neither wanted to feel it first hand. “The lair we are seeking is still some distance back in the trees, but the spiders are becoming more daring, and although the Elf Path itself is protected by enchantment, the forest is not and the creatures cannot be allowed to move closer.”

“Speaking of defence, since Tathar and I are both well aware of the dangers in Mirkwood, Elladan and I will take first watch, Tathar and Elrohir the second,” Legolas suggested to the others who all agreed it was a good plan. By the time the two watchers had scouted the area and confirmed it safe, Elrohir and Tathar were both fully lost in their dreams.

“I did not see Tathar’s wife at the evening meal last night, or at breakfast. Is she well?” asked Elladan with friendly concern as they settled by the small campfire.

“Nay, Mirieth is not herself, and has not been ever since Faelas passed to the Halls of Waiting. She can barely manage her daily tasks, and has no heart for social gatherings or for attending meals. Last night as always, she was abed, being watched over by Tariel. Tathar usually remains with her, but she insisted he do his duty to our guests,” he explained.

“Mirieth has no objection to him going on missions, for she does not wish anyone to suffer her loss and it in some way appeases Tathar to know he is defending his people,” Legolas told him.

“Avenging his son’s death, you mean,” replied Elladan who knew the feeling all too well.

“Ai that is also his motivation, as it is mine,” agreed Legolas with the same hardness in his eyes as was to be seen in Elladan’s and Elrohir’s when they spoke of orcs.

“I do not mean to upset you, but it sounds to me as if Mirieth is fading with grief,” said Elladan gently.

“Then would it not be best for her to do as Naneth did and seek the peace and healing of Valinor?”

“That is a question only she can answer,” said Legolas, fearing he knew what her reply would be, and how devastated Tathar would be to hear it.

“So have you seen Mithrandir of late?” asked Elladan, sensing it was time to change the subject. Legolas shook his head. “He was in Imladris not long ago, and told us tales of many strange lands he had visited. Would you like to hear them?”

“Ai, I would. I do not think I will ever have the chance travel much further than Imladris, or perhaps Lothlórien and I would be interested to hear what the wizard has seen,” replied Legolas wistfully. The rest of the watch passed pleasantly as he listened to Elladan, who was an exceptional storyteller, and when his watch was over his dreams were filled with images of sprawling grasslands and cities of Men.

As he had estimated, it was the middle of the afternoon when the hunters at last spotted the silvery threads that indicated spiders were close by. They warily left the path, keeping their eyes fixed on the upper branches of the tees as they moved further into the forest.

“Ah, pretty, stupid Elves, looking for usss,” hissed an evil voice from the branches above Elrohir, startling both he and his brother.

“They do talk,” he whispered his eyes alight with fascination as he stared into a pair of eyes that glowed like red coals in a fire.

“We like to talk, but we like Elvesss, living, ssssquirming Elvesss, for our ssssupper much better,” hissed the voice again, moving closer and seeming to mesmerise Elrohir.

A sharply called, “Elrohir!” from Legolas roused him and like the others had already done, he quickly nocked his bow, aiming directly between the eyes of the approaching spider. From the corner of his eye, he saw Legolas nod, and in less than a heart beat all four loosed their arrows, many times until all the spiders lay unmoving on the forest floor.

“Come, we must make sure there are no prisoners, and no youngling spiders in the lairs,” said Legolas as he nimbly climbed the tree where the largest web was built. The others followed and to their relief, there were no captives, either dead or alive.

“I have had my fill of spiders,” said Elrohir as he gingerly examined the one who had almost captured him.

“Had we not been here, that one would have had its fill of you,” teased Elladan, placing an affectionate arm around his brother’s shoulders to show he was pleased it was not the case.

Thranduil was both happy with their success, and relieved that none would require the Healer’s services, and offered them all a goblet of wine as they sat in his study and related their adventure.

“I must go and see Mirieth,” said Tathar quickly drinking his wine as soon as the report had been made.

“May I come with you?” asked Elladan. “I have had more recent experience with one whose spirit is in need of healing, perhaps I can be of assistance,” he said, not needing to explain further. The sorrow and grief he and Elrohir still felt at the loss of their Naneth was apparent to all.

“Thank you, any help would be most welcome,” replied Tathar with a sad smile.

“What was that all about, Legolas?” asked Thranduil after they had left. Legolas quickly recounted his conversation with Elladan, and Elrohir nodded in understanding.

“He is going to offer to take Mirieth to the Havens so that she can sail West and heal properly,” he told Thranduil.

“It is an excellent plan. I do not wish to see the young one fade, as she certainly will if she remains here, and I know Elisiel will care for her until Tathar comes to her,” said Thranduil, smiling affectionately at the thought of his wife, and knowing in his heart that she was at peace.

“Greetings, Mirieth. My name is Elladan,” he said as he sat beside the pale young woman and took her hand.

“You are one of Lord Elrond’s sons. I have heard much of you from Tathar,” she said weakly. “He says you are learning to be a Healer like your Adar.”

“Ai and I grieve with you for your loss, and can tell you that there is only one cure for your broken heart,” he said gently.

“Do not suggest another child. I will not allow another to be born into this evil world,” she said, finding the strength to speak with vehemence.

“Nay, I do not suggest that, for I agree with what you say. However, you are fading, as I am certain your own Healer has already told you, just as he has told you of the cure,” he said with sudden insight.

“I cannot do that to Tathar,” she whispered through her tears of relief that someone else understood her plight. “I cannot leave him alone.”

“If you stay here and fade with grief, you WILL leave him alone, but if you travel to the Undying Lands where he can either go with you, or join you later, you will be healed. Surely the choice is simple,” said Elladan who gave Tathar a meaningful look and silently left the two alone.

“Indeed it is. Mirieth, you do not need my words to tell you how much I love you, you can hear it in our song. Please, I beg you to go, to become well again,” said Tathar as he sat beside his wife and held her in his arms.

“Ai, our song is as beautiful as ever, my love. Will you not come too?” she asked, knowing in her heart he would refuse.

“I will travel to the Havens with you, but I will return to see Mirkwood free of the shadow. It is my duty; to my friend and to the King, but most importantly it is what Faelas would expect of me,” he whispered kissing her tenderly.

Part 14: A Small Celebration

Legolas wiped his knife clean on the grass beside the body of the orc he had just killed and glanced quickly around, allowing himself a small sigh of relief after he had accounted for the members of his patrol. All were very much alive, although no doubt sporting bruises and minor cuts from the battle, just as he did, but it was a small price to pay. This had been a particularly large band of orcs, considerably more in number than the Mirkwood patrol, and the Elves had spent the last few nights silently tracking them, picking them off one by one until the remaining orcs had finally stood their ground.

“It seems these ones were not using poisoned blades, I feel no ill effects,” commented Eilian, Legolas’s second in command as he wrapped a cloth about the rather large gash on his forearm.

“A fortunate occurrence indeed, but we will need time to heal and renew our strength nonetheless,” replied Legolas as the others gathered around their leaders waiting for further instructions. “We should scout for a place to rest and tend our wounds.”

“As I was chasing my foe, I noticed a small stream running through a glade back there,” suggested on of the warriors, indicating the general direction he meant with a slight incline of his head. Legolas and Eilian exchanged a glance and wordlessly agreed that it was as safe a place as any to spend the daylight hours.

Anor had already risen high in the sky, filling the glade with warm sunlight, making this the safest time of day for the Elves to rest, for orcs did not venture into the light. Not willing to rely totally on such knowledge, nor on the fact that he could sense no danger nearby, Legolas insisted on standing watch, singing softly to himself while the glade soon echoed with the sound of much splashing, and occasional laughter as the weary, blood covered Elves took advantage of the cool waters. One by one, his friends gradually finished their bathing and settled beneath the shade of the trees to rest or talk quietly amongst themselves.

“I will take the watch, it is your turn to bathe!” ordered Eilian as he walked up to Legolas, bow in hand and shaking the last droplets of water from his long, glistening hair. The water looked so inviting, and the thought of being clean after many days of fighting was so appealing that Legolas needed no further encouragement, and was soon fully immersed in the refreshing coolness. He swam a few strokes, and then turned and floated lazily on his back allowing the slow moving current to carry him where it willed, closing his eyes against the brightness of the noonday sun. To those on the shore he appeared so relaxed that Eilian could not resist interrupting his peace.

“Legolas! Do not fall asleep in the water,” he called out in jest. “I do not want to have to explain to the King how his son, who has survived many a battle with orcs, allowed himself to drown!”

“I am not asleep yet, but I certainly feel the need to rest,” laughed Legolas as he swam to the shore. Like the others, he dressed only in his leggings, and then found a comfortable looking patch of grass beneath one of the trees where he lay quietly and allowed his thoughts to wander back over the events of the last few months.

“Mirieth has decided to seek healing in the Undying Lands,” Tathar told Legolas as they walked beneath the trees. “Elladan and Elrohir have offered to act as our escort to the Havens,” he said raising a hand to silence the offer he knew Legolas was about to make. “I will not ask you to make the journey with us, for although I know you want to, I will not allow you to cause your Adar any unnecessary grief. We both know his feelings about the sea, and the danger he feels it is to you.”

“I cannot argue with your reasoning, and will abide by your and Adar’s wishes. Tell me honestly, are you planning to sail with your wife, mellon nin?” asked Legolas suddenly suspecting that might be the case.

“Nay, Mirieth understands that I must return to Mirkwood to honour our pact… as Faelas would want me to,” replied Tathar smiling affectionately at his friend. Legolas returned the smile and was not surprised to see that Tathar still held his anger and grief close to the surface, as was still very much apparent in the coldness of his eyes.

“I thought that would be your choice, so I have spoken to Adar and convinced him to allow you and your warriors to patrol the area near the remaining villages when you return home. There are only a few scattered settlements of Men, but they need protection and it is a task I thought you would willingly undertake,” he added. Thranduil had readily agreed with Legolas that Tathar needed to be back out on patrol rather than leading the King’s Guard. There were plenty of other equally fearsome and skilled warriors, all of whom Thranduil held in great respect, who were eager to have the honour of protecting their beloved King,

“You know me so well, and had you not already made such a request, I would certainly have done so. There are far too many orcs and spiders alive for my peace of mind, and I would be willing to defend the villagers. Thank you for speaking on my behalf,” Tathar said affectionately as he placed his arm around Legolas’s shoulder and drew him close.

“You are my friend, and I care for you deeply. I will be here should you need me on your return,” said Legolas, sealing his promise by placing a brotherly kiss on Tathar’s cheek.

“Can I have one of those before I leave?” asked Mirieth, sounding for a moment like her former, playful self. Legolas looked to Tathar who nodded his approval, and then walked to meet Mirieth.

“It would be my pleasure, my lady,” replied Legolas gallantly, as he took her in his arms and kissed her in a decidedly un-sibling like manner, almost causing Tathar to reconsider his decision. “Namárië, sweet Mirieth, may the Valar watch over you,” Legolas whispered with his eyes shining as bright with tears as hers had become.

“Namárië, dear Legolas. Have you a message for Elisiel?” she asked tenderly.

“She hears my song always, but there is something you can give her for me. This,” he answered, kissing Mirieth gently on the cheek again, this time imagining it was Elisiel he embraced.

“Naneth…”

Legolas slowly refocused his mind, unsure of whether he had uttered his last word aloud, and feeling as if there was something important hidden in the cloudy mists of his memory.

“Are you awake, Legolas?” asked the concerned voice, not of Elisiel, but Sareth, the healer. Legolas nodded and sat up, finally fully aware of his surroundings, and he realised he must have slept for several hours, for twilight was now rapidly descending on the glade.

“So you have finally decided to join us?” Eilian asked light heartedly as Legolas and Sareth strolled over to the small campfire, looking extremely confused by the festive manner of his friends as they placed a garland of flowers on his head.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked warily. It had been many a year since he had last been the victim of one of his patrol’s pranks, and he thought this was neither the time nor the place to engage in such frivolity.

“Do you not know what day this is?” asked Eilian, suddenly serious.

“Nay, and it is not jests I seek, but a bowl of that delicious stew,” replied Legolas haughtily as he reached over to stir the cooking pot, the better to smell the pleasing aroma. “Where did you find the vegetables?” he asked Sareth, who was also the cook.

“Tariel gave them to me, as well as these packs of pastries which I was told would be as fresh on this day as the day they were made,” he replied sounding extremely dubious. Legolas frowned as he wondered why Tariel had taken the trouble to bake for them, and Eilian decided to add to the mystery by producing a wineskin.

“Wine is not permitted on a scouting missions, as you well know,” declared Legolas sternly, asserting his authority and sounding very much the leader he was, rather than a friend.

“The King told me to tell you that it is by HIS royal command that the rule is to be ignored on this day, for he will not allow his son’s begetting day to pass without the celebration it is due,” said Eilian, repeating the message Thranduil had him commit to memory. “And your Adar asked me to give you this, with his warmest wishes that you enjoy your begetting day,” added Eilian as he handed Legolas the wine.

“I completely forgot about it,” admitted Legolas, highly embarrassed at not remembering his own special day. There were several smiles at his discomfort, but none made light of the reasons he had likely forgotten.

“You have had much to occupy your thoughts over the past few days, it is no wonder you did not remember,” said Eilian. “It may ease your mind to know that had not King Thranduil and Tariel, reminded us before we left for this mission, it is likely that none of us would have remembered either.”

“Then since Adar was so thoughtful, and has allowed you to convey such a gift, it would be a shame not to enjoy it... as he commanded,” said Legolas with a wicked grin. To everyone’s delight, Tariel’s pastries tasted as if she had baked them that morning.

“Tariel is obviously possessed of more skills than we are aware,” commented Legolas as he accepted the last blueberry tart from Sareth.

“Ai, perhaps one day she will teach me how to cook like that,” he mused.

“We would all benefit greatly if she did,” teased Eilian, causing the others to laugh merrily.

“Since there are no musicians, and no fair maids to dance with, I think we should raise our voices in song to celebrate this occasion,” said one of the other warriors when the mirth had subsided.

“Indeed we shall, but I think it wise if we do not raise our voices too loudly, we are not safely back in Mirkwood,” warned Eilian. They sang softly into the night, and as Legolas added his sweet voice to the chorus, Eärendil seemed to shine a little more brightly as he sailed across the sky.

******

Several months passed before Legolas and his patrol returned to Mirkwood, barely a day before Tathar returned from the Havens. Legolas greeted him warmly, and after he had delivered Elrond’s message to Thranduil, the two escaped to the privacy of Legolas’s chamber where he insisted Tathar tell him all that had happened on his journey.

“The journey to Imladris was uneventful, unless you count the fact that Mirieth was shamelessly flirting with Elrond’s sons. It was really very entertaining, for Mirieth easily matched wits with those two,” he added proudly.

“I suspect they were simply trying to lift her spirits, in their own fashion,” said Legolas good naturedly seeing the best in others.

“Ai, so I quickly realised, and it worked well. I am grateful that they were so concerned. Anyway, once we reached Imladris, their behaviour improved markedly. Lord Elrond was a most gracious host, and spent some time with Mirieth, easing her fears of the journey ahead despite his own pain at bearing such a loss. He was comforted by the letter the King sent him, and was even heard laughing at something your Adar had written,” he told Legolas.

“That is not surprising, since Adar usually knows exactly the right thing to say, and he and Lord Elrond have been friends a long time,” explained Legolas, briefly wondering if he dared ask Thranduil what was so amusing and deciding against the invasion of his Adar’s privacy. “Please continue.”

“We stayed there for two days, and then continued on to the Havens with some others who were also sailing West. Many are finally answering the call and Lord Elrond hinted that our time in Middle-earth is fading,” he said sadly.

“Really? I do not wish to leave before the shadow is finally defeated, nor will I!” declared Legolas, his voice softening as his curiosity rose to the fore. “But tell me, what was the sea like?”

“Frighteningly beautiful. There was water as far as the eye could see, with waves pounding the sandy shores endlessly, and the air was so laden with salt that you could taste it. Cirdan’s ship was so elegantly crafted, almost like a work of art, and for a moment I was tempted to sail with Mirieth,” replied Tathar wistfully.

“What stopped you?” asked Legolas.

“This strange old man, who was standing beside me as the ship disappeared into the fog. He told me that the gulls would see her safely to the Undying Lands, but it was not my time to leave,” replied Tathar. “He vanished mysteriously before I had a chance to enquire further, and when I asked Círdan who he was, all he told me was that he was an old man who loved the sea and comforted those left behind.”

“It sounds like Círdan answers questions as enigmatically as Mithrandir,” commented Legolas dryly.

“Ai, so Elladan and Elrohir warned me, but Legolas, he also knows so many interesting tales. And he spent many hours telling them to us, each one equally fascinating and look, he even gave me the plans of one of his smaller ships,” said Tathar excitedly as he unrolled the small scroll he had been carrying in his belt pouch. “It is a simple enough design, perhaps one day we should try and build such a ship,” he suggested.

“Ai, perhaps we will,” agreed Legolas, suddenly feeling a tingle of anticipation at the prospect and wondering why.

Part 15: An Interlude with the Elders.

Thranduil read the message from Elrond yet again and tried to reconcile his responsibility to remain in his realm whilst it was under threat with his desire to accept the invitation to celebrate New Year at Imladris. He could empathise fully with Elrond’s recently suffered loss, and although he had sent a letter back with Elladan and Elrohir expressing his sympathy, he felt it his duty to personally console his friend now that the opportunity had been presented.

“I think you should go, Your Majesty. Elrond is surely aware of the danger of the journey as well as the constant threat we face. He must have a good reason for asking you to take the risk,” commented Thranduil’s Steward, who was also his good friend and closest confidante, aside from Legolas.

“So you believe this is more than merely a social call?” enquired Thranduil.

“I think it likely,” nodded the Steward.

“I am extremely reluctant to leave his realm in these troubled times, but I will speak with my Captains before I make my final decision,” he told his friend. “Please arrange a meeting as soon as possible.”

The discussion with his Captains was held later that day, and they convinced their King that he should refuse to allow the threat of the shadow to rule his behaviour. Aside from that, there was also another important consideration, at least as far as the warriors were concerned… their honour. A challenge had been issued to Mirkwood to enter their best archer in the tournament that was to be the highlight of the New Year’s celebrations. They all agreed that Legolas was to be the one to go, for he had proven on many occasions that he was the most skilled archer in Mirkwood, and when they called for Legolas to tell him of the invitation, Thranduil found his decision made for him.

For the first time in many a long year, his son’s eyes shone with excitement and genuine happiness so excited was he by the prospect of a journey purely for pleasure, and he was so full of confidence that he would be the victor, that Thranduil had not the heart to refuse.

Thus they had travelled the long distance to the Last Homely House with Legolas’s patrol as guards, arriving only a few hours before the evening meal, which was to be a feast in honour of the King of Mirkwood. The Wood Elves had been immediately shown to their rooms so that they could refresh themselves, and after spending a relaxing hour in the bath, Thranduil poured himself a goblet of wine and walked out onto the balcony so that he could admire the view of the river valley in which Imladris was built. The constant voice of the cascading waters was extremely soothing, and offered tranquillity not unlike that to be found in the rustling of the leaves in the glades of Mirkwood. He remained there in silent contemplation until the dinner bell rang, and Legolas arrived to escort his Adar to the dining hall.

A rather raucous peal of silvery laughter caught the attention of the two elder Elves as they sat discussing the merits of the wine that Thranduil had brought as a gift for Elrond. Easily recognising the voices as that of their sons, they glanced across the dining hall to see Legolas blushing slightly and Elrohir placing a comforting arm around his friend’s shoulders as he playfully scolded Elladan for his words. There was amusement glittering in Elrond’s eyes as he turned to speak to his companion.

“One of Elladan’s more ‘colourful’ stories, no doubt,” he said dryly, explaining the likely cause of the merriment.

“It must have been extremely so. Legolas has spent many nights around the fire listening to the deeds, and no doubt the ‘conquests’ of the older warriors, and is not easily embarrassed,” commented Thranduil as he smiled and raised his glass in response to a similar gesture from Elladan before turning back to continue his conversation with Elrond.

“I have heard that you have spent too much time cloistered in your library of late, and although I understand too well the nature of your grief, you cannot let it rule your life,” said Thranduil compassionately. “I think you need to spend some time in the open air, away from your responsibilities, as I am doing. Although I had misgivings about this trip, I now find I am enjoying the freedom it affords. Perhaps you would care to go riding with me tomorrow and experience some of the same?” Elrond appeared to consider this notion for a few minutes before answering.

“I accept, for I have just recalled a place you might find interesting, a small, but little known waterfall about half a day’s ride from here in a secluded and tranquil location,” said Elrond.

“Excellent, then perhaps we can spend some time there discussing the real reason you requested my presence,” replied Thranduil. Elrond raised an eyebrow at his friend’s insight and nodded agreement.

“Glorfindel, I trust that you will see to it that our sons do not become overly curious as to our whereabouts?” he asked the Elf Lord who had just joined them after the musicians had been asked to provide music for dance rather than song.

“There is little likelihood of that, it appears they have accepted an invitation to join the Rangers,” replied Glorfindel as he watched the three younger Elves leave with several of the Dúnedain. “I doubt they will have returned before you leave in the morning.”

***********

The ever present whispering of the cascading water of the falls was muffled as if by some ghostly hand covering its mouth as a thick morning mist hung heavily over Imladris. There was a freshness to air that was filled with cool droplets of moisture that clung to lightly the travelling cloaks that covered the simple tunics and leggings that the two Elves were wearing. Neither Elrond nor Thranduil wished to disturb the tranquillity of the new day, so they made their way silently to the stables, having already decided to lead, rather than ride their horses to the stone archway that was the gate to Imladris.

There was not a soul in sight, and even the birds had not yet voiced their welcome to the new day as they passed under the archway, and mounted their horses.

“It is a strange feeling to be leaving with no-one here to wish me a speedy journey, or a safe return. I almost feel as if I am but a child, sneaking out without permission,” commented Elrond with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Speaking of children, I stopped by Legolas’s chamber this morning to tell him not to look for me today, but he was not there, and his bed had not been slept in,” Thranduil said as he whispered a command to his horse, which obligingly broke into a canter. Elrond did likewise, quickly catching up to his friend.

“My sons were not in their chambers either… as is often the case when they are invited to spend the evening drinking with the Rangers, as Glorfindel mentioned. It is nothing to be concerned about,” Elrond explained with a shrug.

“So our attempt at being responsible Adars was foiled by our sons, as often happens,” commented Thranduil said with a sigh, dismissing the subject of wayward sons in favour of his curiosity. “Exactly where is this waterfall you wish to show me?”

“It is deep in the forest, in a place where the stream that feeds it forms a small ravine that has steep sides. We will need to leave the horses at the top and make our way down on foot and we would be wise to keep our swords with us, for I have heard reports of one or two orcs venturing this far into the valley,” Elrond warned.

Soon the gates and the narrow pathway that lead beyond the valley disappeared from view, and when his horse had broke into a gallop in response to his command, Elrond actually began to enjoy the sense of freedom as he left his responsibilities behind for the day. Thranduil did likewise and soon they were racing to their destination, travelling cloaks and two streams of unbraided hair, one as dark as the other was fair, billowing behind them in their wake.

With the surefootedness possessed by elvish horses, they passed easily through the forest, reaching the clearing at the edge of the ravine just after noon. Taking their travel packs, and their swords, the two elder Elves left their horses to avail themselves of the shade as they grazed on the long grass, and made the slow climb down to the base of the waterfall.

There was plenty of cool shade provided by several willow trees dipping their leafy fingers into the water of the stream, as well as a wide expanse of grass, speckled with the colour of the many flowers that grew amongst the greenery. The waterfall itself was certainly much smaller than those in Imladris, but large enough to fill the glade with the sound of its soft, soothing whisper.

“This is truly a beautiful place, and the water is so sweet,” Thranduil commented as he followed Elrond’s example and drank a few handfuls of the cool liquid before selecting a tree to sit beneath.

“Ai, I had almost forgotten how peaceful it is here,” replied Elrond as he allowed a sigh of contentment to leave his lips. “Just what we both need,” he added meaningfully.

“We have certainly both experienced some heartbreaking times,” agreed Thranduil seeing no need to voice the details.

“How fares Tathar?” asked Elrond.

“I have assigned him to protect several of the small villages near my borders, and he seems to be the better for it. Naturally he still grieves for his son, but he feels he is in some way avenging him Legolas tells me that although Tathar misses Mirieth, he is relieved to know she is safe and well in Valinor.”

“As is Celebrían,” whispered a rather melancholy Elrond, nodding his understanding. “And what of Legolas?”

“I believe he has finally come to terms with his grief over the loss of young Faelas,” replied Thranduil. “This trip and the archery tournament have certainly lifted his spirits, and for that I am grateful. Now perhaps you would indulge my curiosity and tell me what it is you want of me, for I sense you have a request to make, do you not?” asked Thranduil.

“Direct as always, mellon nin,” laughed Elrond. “Tell me, have you found yourself engaged in many of the skirmishes with the fell creatures in that invade your forest?”

“Not often, and I have only had cause to deal with spiders, usually with a well placed arrow,” replied Thranduil, wondering what Elrond was leading up to.

“So you have not had to wield your sword?”

“Only when sparring with Legolas or my warriors,” admitted Thranduil. “Do you still practice your skills?”

“Nay, I have not wielded my sword for many centuries,” Elrond answered shaking his head.

“Then perhaps you should spend a few hours a day on the practice field, rather than amongst your books. You know as well as I that the Shadow is returning, and if the Dark Lord regains his strength, even Imladris will need defending,” warned Thranduil.

“Glorfindel and my sons have been advising me to do just that, and have offered to spar with me on many occasions, but so far I have refused,” Elrond confided.

“Why? Is not Glorfindel’s expertise with the sword, if not your sons’ as well, at least equal to your own?” asked Thranduil frowning with confusion at his friend’s apparent reluctance to hone his skills.

“I concede that Glorfindel is in fact a much better swordsman and more than a match for me, but there is little point in sparring with one whose skills and strategies I have come to know so well,” explained Elrond. “We each know beforehand the moves the other will make… and in that there is no challenge, not like when you and I met each other on the practice field as our armies journeyed together to Dagorlad. Do you recall those days?”

“When although we had no desire to injure each other, neither of us would concede defeat, until forced to by either Oropher or Gil-galad, you mean?” asked Thranduil, easily perceiving where this conversation was leading.

“Ai, and the Healer often chose to bind our wounds with a salve that was painful when first applied,” added Elrond, wincing as he recalled the sensation.

“If I understand you, it is a challenging partner you seek? Perhaps you would care to cross swords with me?” offered Thranduil his eyes alight with delight at the prospect.

“Indeed I would, this is my real reason for asking you here, as you have guessed,” replied Elrond.

“Before we begin, tell me why you choose this private location rather than the practice fields?” asked Thranduil. “It would be a worthy spectacle for the younger warriors to witness, and an excellent addition to the celebrations.”

“Aside from the fact that I do not wish all of Elvendom to hear that the King of Mirkwood and the Master of Imladris have finally come to blows, I prefer to spar under battle conditions in a style that our respective guards, and likely our sons, would not approve.”

“Ai, a sharp sword and very little armour is the only way to really test one’s mettle,” agreed Thranduil knowing full well Elrond’s intent.

They quickly divested themselves of all but under shirts and leggings, and circled each other warily, waiting for the unspoken signal that would begin the contest. Thranduil advanced first, catching Elrond off guard as his blade whispered past his friend’s chest, but old skills are never forgotten, and Elrond quickly retaliated. As their confidence in their own skills increased, their blood sang with elation and the desire for victory took hold of their actions, the sound of metal against metal rang throughout the clearing.

Although Thranduil was an excellent archer, he was a far better swordsman, and a worthy match for Elrond and the longer they fought, neither willing to yield, it became more apparent just how fearsome the two elder warriors could be. In the exhilaration of the battle, neither noticed the blood that flowed freely from the shallow gashes they both sported on chests that were now only protected by the shreds of their undershirts.

“So, Peredhil, I see you have lost none of your skill, despite your lack of practice,” teased Thranduil, breathing heavily as the dance of the warriors continued.

“Are you conceding defeat, Oropherion?” asked Elrond, equally as breathless.

“Nay, but if you tire of the exercise, we can stop,” replied Thranduil, ducking quickly, but unable to avoid the small nick to his cheek as he deflected Elrond’s sword.

“I think that would be wise,” said a stern voice from somewhere close by. “Middle-earth cannot afford to lose either of you at this time.”

Thranduil and Elrond were surprised into ceasing their practice and exchanged a look of concern that they had allowed someone to approach. The look changed to relieved amusement upon seeing Mithrandir step from behind the trees.

“Greetings, Mithrandir. I did not expect you to arrive until tomorrow,” said Elrond nonchalantly as he began to inspect his wounds.

“I did not expect you at all!” declared Thranduil, glaring at Elrond for not informing him of the fact.

“Most inconsiderate of you, Elrond,” scolded Mithrandir who then turned his charming smile to Thranduil. “I am pleased to see you Thranduil; perhaps we can journey back to Mirkwood together after the celebrations?”

“Of course,” agreed the King, his anger somewhat mollified by the suggestion. “How did you know to look for us here?” he asked.

“I was not intentionally seeking you, but heard the sound of swords and was curious to see who was battling so fiercely in this peaceful little glade,” the Wizard replied.

“We were practicing, not actually fighting to the death,” explained Thranduil.

“I am glad to hear it,” replied the Wizard, “although you both have many wounds that need tending as a result of your ‘practice’.” They both looked as if they had suddenly just become aware of the fact and exchanged satisfied grins.

“Thranduil, I am going to wash my wounds in the stream before I treat them, and I suggest you do likewise,” said Elrond as he removed the remnants of his clothing and waded into the water to be followed closely by Thranduil.

“Mithrandir, perhaps you would be kind enough to light a fire so that we can have some tea?” suggested Elrond.

“An excellent and very sensible idea,” agreed Mithrandir who quickly set about gathering some firewood.

“These are not too serious, but I expect will be a little painful until they heal,” Elrond said as he examined the gashes on Thranduil’s chest as they stood waist deep in the water.

“They will be all but gone by the morning, I suspect,” replied Thranduil with a shrug.

“As will mine, but I wonder if we should not remain here tonight. I find I am of no mind to have to explain torn shirts and sword wounds to those who will undoubtedly notice,” sighed Elrond.

“I agree, and would find it pleasing to spend the night under the stars after such an invigorating afternoon. Of course, given your sons’ penchant for ‘colourful’ stories, and Glorfindel’s wicked sense of humour, there is the chance that our absence will be considered to be planned, if you understand my meaning,” said Thranduil his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I hardly think any would dare accuse us of seeking a tryst, especially with Mithrandir here to act as chaperone,” laughed Elrond.

“But no one knows he is here,” replied Thranduil.

Part 16. Love has Many Faces

The two slightly dishevelled Elves and their enigmatic companion rode through the gates of Imladris just as the noon bell rang, and all hope Elrond and Thranduil had of slipping unnoticed to change their attire disappeared when they were met by their sons who had apparently been watching for their return.

“Where have you two been all night!” demanded Elladan of the two wayward Adars as they dismounted and let the groom lead their horses to the stables. Elrond and Thranduil exchanged an amused glance, the irony of being questioned for their late return by sons who thought nothing of doing so, was not lost on either of them.

“We could ask you the same of the night before. Had you been in your chambers when we left yesterday, you would have known where we had gone,” reprimanded Elrond. His sons merely looked at each other and shrugged.

“The singing and the wine lasted longer than we expected,” said Elladan by way of explanation.

“We were beginning to worry about you, Adar, and perhaps with good cause,” commented Legolas speaking more seriously as he frowned at the slowly fading scars he could see on the King’s chest. Neither of the elder Elves had even attempted to don their shredded undershirts, but unlike Elrond, Thranduil had also not bothered to button his tunic, leaving his scars clearly visible.

“You are injured as well, Adar. Were you attacked by Orcs this close to Imladris?” asked Elrohir soberly, his eyes glittering with fury at the thought. He did not realise that he embraced Elrond a little too tightly until he felt his Adar wince at the pressure on scars that were not quite healed.

“Nay, it was not Orcs they were fighting, but each other in a rather unwise contest,” explained Mithrandir with disapproval in his voice. “Fortunately I came upon them before too much damage was inflicted, who knows what might have happened had I not.”

“Nothing would have ‘happened’ for we were well aware of our limits, and a few scratches are nothing to be worry about,” said Thranduil, smiling at his son to show he was grateful for his concern.

“Indeed, it has been too long since I wielded my sword thus. A challenging opponent and a little danger can be very exiting, can it not?” added Elrond clapping Thranduil affectionately on the shoulder as the King nodded agreement.

“Then ‘tis a pity that Mithrandir’s untimely arrival interrupted your swordplay,” said Glorfindel with smirk. The innuendo in his tone of voice was met with a stern glares from both Elrond and Thranduil that they quickly turned on sons who were laughing merrily at their discomfort and Glorfindel’s wicked sense of humour.

“Perhaps it would be wise of you two to see to your scars and your attire,” Mithrandir suggested to Elrond and Thranduil with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Glorfindel, did I not hear the noon bell?” The Elf Lord nodded. “Good, then let us find something to eat and drink. Come along you three,” he said including the three younger Elves in his plans. “I wish to hear your news of the Rangers.”

Elrond had barely finished bathing and attending his partially healed wounds when the sounds of the commotion caused by new arrivals drifted up from the courtyard below. The tranquillity of his rest was interrupted by two voices, shouting rather more loudly than was considered decorous by many in Imladris, but was to be expected from brothers who were pleased to see their sister.

Arwen returned their greetings and waved acknowledgement to Elrond who she could see peering over the balcony rail. She beckoned to him to join them, and he turned and strode quickly through the passageway that led outside, eager to also be engulfed in her warm embrace.

“Arwen, I was not expecting you, but it pleases my heart that you have returned from Lothlórien. I have missed you,” he said tenderly as he kissed her brow.

“I missed you too, Adar. When I heard that Haldir was coming to Imladris for the New Year archery tournament, I begged Grandfather to let me accompany him,” she told Elrond.

“Ai and it appears that Celeborn had not the strength of will to refuse your request,” he teased as he turned his attention to Haldir. “Thank you for escorting my daughter safely home.”

“It was my honour and pleasure to do so,” said Haldir with a respectful bow. “The Lord and Lady send their respects and their affection, and a letter.” Elrond returned the bow and accepted the rolled up parchment that bore the seal of Lothlórien.

“I will read this later, but for now I will have Erestor show you to one of the guest chambers.”

“Then whilst you see to Haldir’s accommodation, I think I would also like to rest from the journey, but I can easily listen to the latest news while I am doing so,” said Arwen as she took her brothers by the arms and walked happily towards the house of Elrond.

With Elladan and Elrohir in tow, she quickly made her way to her chambers and closed her eyes as she stood outside the door, opening them quickly as she entered the room. All was as she had left it, and in fact it felt as if she had never been away. As Arwen wandered around, touching the bed, the dresser, a few of her favourite trinkets as she allowed the feeling of being home fill her heart. Lothlórien was beautiful, and a refuge from her pain, but the whispering waters of Imladris ever filled her dreams she mused as she walked out onto the balcony to watch look out on the waterfalls. The moment was complete when she felt two arms holding her lightly around the waist, and she sighed with contentment as she rested her head on Elrohir’s shoulder.

*******

“Are you hungry, Adar?” Legolas asked as he placed the tray of fruit, bread and cheese he had brought with him on the small table near the opening to the balcony. Thranduil regarded him with a mixture of amusement and affection, as well as a little concern, well aware that the food was merely a ploy, and that it was not his hunger, but the scars that Legolas was really enquiring about.

“I will eat a little if you will join me,” Thranduil replied. Legolas nodded, but he could not keep his eyes from straying to the large red scar on his Adar’s chest.
”Look, it is almost healed,” said Thranduil, opening the sleeping robe he wore a little more so that Legolas could see the truth for himself. He reached out to gently touch the tender skin, and then moved his fingers up to trace the faint scar on Thranduil’s face.

“I have never seen you injured like this before, Adar, it is very… unsettling,” he whispered, the fear in his eyes easily seen as he replaced his fingers with a soft brush of his lips.

“Have you never considered that even I am not immune to injury by cold steel?” asked Thranduil.

“It is a truth that I know in my mind, but one my heart refuses to face. I have already lost so many close to me, and should you be sent to seek refuge with Mandos, I would likely soon follow in my grief,” said Legolas, his eyes filled with tears.

“It was merely a practice session, Legolas. A contest that provided a means for Elrond and me to assuage our own grief and anger, to reawaken the warriors we once were so that we will prevail over the Dark Lord. I regret nothing except that I have caused you sorrow and pain, and for that I am truly sorry,” said Thranduil as he embraced his son.

“I understand, Adar, and I hope that the next time you feel the need for swordplay you will allow me to watch. It must have been a fearsome sight!” said Legolas his eyes now alight with excitement and pride. Thranduil laughed merrily, pleased to see his son’s quicksilver change in mood.

“We certainly managed to scare Mithrandir,” Thranduil chuckled. “You may consider yourself invited to the next bout between Elrond and myself, but should you not be practicing for your own contest? I see that Haldir has arrived to represent Lothlórien, and I can assure you that you do not want to disappoint my captains by losing this contest. They do not take kindly to loss, and are likely to choose unpleasant missions for you should you do so,” he teased.

“Only if their King allows them to,” said Legolas lightly.

“I would not risk their wrath, my son; they often do as they think best, regardless of my wishes.”

“Then it is a wonder that Tathar is not the general of your army,” laughed Legolas.

“He is still far too young and inexperienced, as are you. Anyway, I am sure Elrond is looking forward to watching the archery tournament, and I know I am. At least this time it is not being held in secret,” he teased. Legolas felt slightly embarrassed at the reference to the unofficial tournament he and Tathar had competed in so many years ago.

“Ai, I think a few hours on the archery range will stand me in good stead for tomorrow,” agreed Legolas. “I will see you at the evening meal,” he said, kissing Thranduil on the unscarred cheek before he turned to leave.

The archery contest was held early the next morning, and although it lasted several more rounds than intended. After the final round, Legolas and Haldir were locked in a tie and everyone was enjoying the display of skill so much that Elrond insisted there be a clear winner before the contest was finished. The winning arrow was finally fired and victory was awarded to Legolas, whose arrow landed a hair’s breadth closer to the centre of the last target than Haldir’s.

Both archers received much acclaim for their skills and Arwen rewarded them both with a kiss on the cheek and a promise of a dance later that evening. However, the highlight of the day’s celebrations was the impromptu display of sword fighting by Elrond, Thranduil and Glorfindel. Everyone in Imladris stood watching in fascination and awe as the warriors of old, dressed in Elven battle armour, sparred together in a three sided mock battle, wielding their swords so swiftly that the elegant and deadly moves were difficult to see, even with Elvish eyes.

When the contest ended, there was a thunderous round of applause, intermingled with cheering such as had never before been heard in Imladris.

*******

The New Year celebrations were at an end and the Mirkwood delegation was returning to their home forest, well aware that they had to be wary of orc attacks, especially as they crossed the Misty Mountains

“Legolas, climb up here and bask in the starlight with me,” suggested Thranduil who had insisted on taking his turn at watch. Legolas looked up into the tree to see his Adar sitting on a wide branch, high enough up to afford a good view of the approaches to the campsite.

“I would be pleased to, Adar, if only to remove myself from the presence of Mithrandir’s pipe,” replied Legolas trying to sound affronted rather than break out into laughter as did the rest of the Elves. Mithrandir merely raised a single eyebrow in query, unable to comprehend why his companions would not join him in the relaxing act of pipe smoking, preferring instead to sing and tell tales. Legolas nimbly negotiated the climb and settled himself alongside his Adar, leaving Mithrandir telling the King’s guards of his journeys since last he visited the Woodland Realm.

“Starlight is both beautiful and comforting, is it not?” Thranduil asked his son. Legolas nodded his agreement. “And even more comforting I expect when one is walking under the stars with the lovely Arwen?” he continued in a nonchalant manner.

“Ai, her beauty was matched by that of the shimmering starlight. Why the sudden interest in Arwen?” asked Legolas warily.

“Everyone was saying what a stunning couple you two make, and you spent so much time together after the tournament, that as your Adar, I was merely curious as to your feelings about her,” replied Thranduil.

Legolas sighed, yet did not regret the incident that led to the misunderstanding about his relationship with Arwen. In the early hours of the morning after the final ball, Elladan and Elrohir had found them laying on the grass in one of the gardens, both sound asleep with Legolas holding Arwen close as she rested her head on his chest. They had spent the night talking of Lothlórien and Mirkwood, the losses they had both already suffered, the return of the Shadow and the fading of the Elves, finally drifting into sleep as Legolas sang softly to the stars.

The brothers wrongly assumed that Legolas and Arwen had become lovers and by the time the couple arrived for breakfast, everyone they passed either smiled knowingly or tried to learn the day they planned to hold their betrothal. Naturally they had both denied they were betrothed, and after several vain attempts to convince certain Imladris Elves otherwise, Legolas and Arwen had simply decided to continue keeping company and let her brothers think whatever they wished.

“We are merely good friends, nothing more,” said Legolas a little harshly. He was annoyed to think that even his Adar did not really believe his denial.

“A pity, I really thought there was more between you two, and perhaps you just did not realise it, just as Tathar did not admit his love for Mirieth without assistance. As much as I disliked her matchmaking, I have to admit that were Elisiel still here, she might actually have tried to bring you and Arwen together,” said Thranduil with a sad smile at the mention of his own beloved.

“Not even Naneth would have succeeded in such a task,” said Legolas with a certainty that piqued Thranduil’s curiosity even further.

“What makes you so sure?” he asked.

“Aside from the fact that I find love to be a painful emotion and cannot allow anyone else into my heart for fear I will cause them to suffer should I not survive in battle against the fell creatures of our forest, there is also the fact that when we kissed, the music our hearts sang was not the love of a soul mate. Arwen is not the one who completes me, Adar,” he said with a shrug of resignation.

“But there is someone, somewhere, who will. Of that I have no doubt,” said Thranduil reassuringly. “Do not let your past grief deny you the chance to love, for even in the darkest times, the keeper of your heart will light your way.”

Part 17: Renewal

Word spread quickly through the trees of Mirkwood that the King had returned, and as Thranduil and his party rode across the bridge, no one except the Wizard was surprised to find that preparations for a feast, that was to be held that night to welcome the returning travellers back home, were well underway. Legolas and his companions were delighted to learn that it was also to be a belated New Year celebration, for as much as they had enjoyed the festivities at Imladris they had all missed the merrymaking of the Wood Elves.

“Have your people not already celebrated the coming of the New Year?” asked Mithrandir as Thranduil escorted him to the guest chambers.

“Of course, but on the rare occasions I have not been here for the actual feast, another is always held on my return,” he explained as he ushered the Wizard into one of the larger chambers. “Now, you must excuse me for I must go and spend some time with my Steward, who no doubt has much to report. There is a selection of wines in that cabinet over there,” said Thranduil pointing to the elegant cupboard in one corner of the room. “If you wish, I will send someone with a tray from the kitchens,” he offered his guest.

“Thank you, but that will not be necessary. I am not hungry, but I find a nice hot bath, a small glass of wine, and a few hours in that very comfortable looking bed to be a very appealing prospect,” said Mithrandir, rubbing his aching back. They had ridden for long hours each day on the journey from Imladris, and the ground had made an uncomfortable bed.

“Indeed it does to me also, but I must see to my responsibilities before I can do likewise,” said Thranduil with a hint of envy. “Sleep well, and I will send someone to wake you in time for the feast.”

*******

A hot bath had also been uppermost in Legolas’s mind, and he sighed with contentment as he slid into the warm depths, and simply lay there allowing the aroma of the herbs he had sprinkled onto the water to relax his tense muscles. The serenity of the moment burst like a bubble as he heard Tathar calling to him from the outer chamber. His patrol had only just returned and he had not even bothered to change his typically weather worn clothes in his eagerness to greet his friend.

“In here!” answered Legolas lazily, making no attempt to move. There was no need to be concerned about modesty, for it was common practice among warriors to bathe together when they chanced upon a pool or stream on their patrols.

“Legolas! It is good to see you again,” exclaimed Tathar, clasping his friend’s wet arm in greeting before settling himself on the bench at the foot of the tub. Legolas studied his friend’s shoddy appearance and shook his head in resignation and smiled to think some things never changed.

“Tell me everything that happened in Imladris, and I especially want to hear about Arwen. Some news certainly travels faster than the rest,” he said with a shrug, answering the unspoken question in eyes that glittered with anger.

“I would have thought you would be more interested in congratulating me for winning the archery contest,” said Legolas, deliberately avoiding the issue of Arwen. Tathar, however, was not so easily deterred.

“Very well then… congratulations for winning the tournament, as I expected you would, but not even I suspected that you would also win the Evenstar’s heart,” he teased.

“Nor did I. It seems you have been misinformed, mellon nin,” said Legolas as he turned his attention back to his bathing.

“Then there is no truth in the rumour that you spent quite a bit of time in her company?” he asked as he moved to stand behind Legolas.

“That much is true,” Legolas was forced to admit. Tathar eyed him suspiciously, well aware that he was not being told the whole story.

“Here, let me wash your hair for you,” he offered, pouring a jug of water over Legolas’s head and laughing as his friend turned to glare at him.

“That was the cold water!” Legolas exclaimed angrily. The mischievous gleam in Tathar’s eyes did not escape his notice. “You did that deliberately!”

“My apologies, it was but a simple mistake,” replied Tathar with a distinct lack of sincerity. “Are you sure you do not wish to confide in me? I see another jug of cold water over there,” he said, quickly grabbing Legolas’s shoulders to hold him in place as he tried to stand.

“There is nothing to tell. We spent some time in friendly conversation, and I did kiss her, but I found that I could not give her my heart, nor could she give me hers,” he spoke with a touch of remorse in his voice.

“Why not?” asked Tathar gently, easily realising this was no joking matter, and that his friend was deeply upset.

“Our songs do not sing in harmony,” said Legolas casting his eyes down as he spoke only part of the truth.

“You forget I know you well, I can sense there is more you are not saying,” declared Tathar. “Do you not trust me with matters of your heart?” he asked with genuine hurt in his voice.

“I trust you with my heart and my life,” replied Legolas. “I could not bear the thought of loving someone like you love Mirieth, only to lose to them to the shadow or the call of the sea, nor could I inflict such grief as I feel at my losses on one who loved me so,” he said with such melancholy that Tathar felt as if his heart would break. He knelt down and put his arms around the bare shoulders, hugging his friend close.

“Do not despair, mellon nin, for at least we still have each other,” Tathar whispered tenderly. Legolas nodded and after a few moments more in the comfort of the strong arms, he wriggled slightly and removed himself from the embrace so that he could turn and face his friend.

“You do know that I love you,” Legolas said, kissing his friend lightly on the cheek. Tathar raised an eyebrow at that statement.

“Really?”

“As a brother, I mean,” he added hurriedly, blushing slightly as memories of some of Elladan’s stories flashed through his mind.

“As I love you,” he told Legolas, wiping away the single tear that had traced a path down the finely boned cheek. “It is apparent that you also spent time with Elrond’s sons and the Rangers, they are certainly entertaining, are they not?”

“Ai, but I much prefer your company.”

“Naturally and as much as I am enjoying sharing this time with you, ‘little brother’, we have a feast to attend,” said Tathar as he picked up the bottle of hair wash and proceeded with his task.

“You are surely planning on at least changing your clothes, I hope?” teased Legolas, too late remembering the second jug of cold water that now trickled down his back.

“As soon as I finish washing your hair and you have told me about the mischief I hear the King and Lord Elrond managed to make,” said Tathar merrily.

“Is there really any need? You seem to know all that happened already,” commented Legolas.

“I know what your patrol tells me, but they do not speak of the details they consider to be the King’ business, or yours for that matter,” Tathar explained.

“Nor should they, but since we are family I see no reason not to tell you” replied Legolas. He quickly gave his ‘brother’ a full account of the events.

********

“Aye, I am aware that there is increasing activity in the south, and I have a mind to speak with the residents of the Iron Hills and Dale once I leave here,” Mithrandir was saying in reply to another question from the Steward. He had answered many questions, after his own fashion, from the Archery and Sword Masters, as well as the Steward and Thranduil decided to put an end to the interrogation.

“This is meant to be a joyous occasion and Mithrandir is here as a welcome guest. I suggest you treat him with more respect. There will be plenty of time to speak to him about his plans later,” Thranduil said quietly but with an icy edge to his voice.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” answered the Steward for all three. Mithrandir pretended not to notice the reprimand, and smiled with delight as Tariel approached.

“Ah, my dear Tariel, you have prepared yet another excellent feast, and the thought of that is what really brought me to Mirkwood,” he confessed as he rose to take the elder Elf’s hand and kissed it lightly.

“Of course it is,” she agreed taking a seat next to him just as the King’s son and his friend entered the Hall. Tathar stepped aside as the warriors led a resounding cheer for Legolas and his victory in the archery contest. He smiled proudly and acknowledged them with a deep bow, and turned to speak to Tathar, only to find him a short distance away talking to several of the maidens.

“Oh, Legolas, I think it only fair to warn you that those lovely young ladies are very relieved to hear you have not lost your heart to the Evenstar,” whispered Tathar with a wicked wink as they took their places at the King’s table. Legolas groaned and looked to Thranduil for support only to see his Adar laughing merrily with the others who had heard the exchange.

“In that case, you had best make sure you eat your fill, for your stamina on the dance floor will no doubt be sorely tested this night,” advised Thranduil when he regained a measure of composure.

“You had better do likewise, Tathar,” suggested Legolas in a sweet, but dangerous voice as he walked over to the table where several of the more ‘talkative’ elf maidens sat. They listened to his words, and then looked past him to smile sympathetically at Tathar.

“What did you do?” he hissed when Legolas returned.

“I merely mentioned that I believed Mirieth would have no objection should any of them care to dance with you; that perhaps it would help restore your spirits. They are very compassionate, and several of them intend to help ease your sorrow,” replied Legolas. The look of disdain on Tathar’s face, knowing that Legolas was right, and that was exactly what Mirieth would have suggested caused another burst of laughter from his elders.

“Very well, I call a truce. I shall respect my beloved’s wishes and you shall do your duty, and we will enjoy ourselves,” declared Tathar.

“Agreed,” said Legolas as the two friends embraced affectionately and then proceeded to pile each others’ plates high with a selection of the delicious dishes that had been prepared for the feast. They had barely finished eating when the tempo of the music changed announcing the dancing was to begin.

“It is good to see them both smiling so freely once more,” commented Tariel as she followed the dancers with her eyes. Tathar was behaving as one who was married should, but his eyes sparkled with merriment for the first time in many years.

“Ai, it makes my heart sing to see Tathar back to his usual self, and Legolas behaving in such a carefree manner,” commented Thranduil as he watched his son flirting shamelessly with his partner. Tariel caught her breath as she turned her attention to Legolas, and a strange smile played across her lips as her eyes glazed over for a heartbeat.

“What is it, Tariel? Are you well?” asked Thranduil with some concern for his beloved old friend.

“What? Oh yes, I am well. I did not mean to alarm you,” she said as she refocussed her thoughts.

“What happened?” asked Thranduil as he offered her a glass of wine. She took a few sips and then replied.

“It is plain for everyone to see that Legolas has the fair features of his Adar, but as he smiled at that young maiden and his eyes flashed with flirtatious mischief, I suddenly realised that in his charming manner he is the image of Oropher when he was the same age,” she told Thranduil who was astounded to hear her words. “Your Adar was also an excellent dancer,” she added softly.

As dark tendrils of shadow from the south clawed ever more insistently at the back of his mind, Thranduil found it increasingly difficult to find rest. His dreams were haunted with the sights and sounds of the battlefield so long ago, always ending with the tear in his heart as he watched Oropher fall to the sword of evil.

This night the images had been particularly vivid and he rose from his bed, almost grateful for the knowledge that sleep would elude him for the rest of the night, for so would the dream and the sense of foreboding that came with it. Donning a robe to cover his sleeping shirt, he decided to seek solace in the kitchen that, with its ever burning fire was always a place of warmth and cheer, even in the early hours before dawn. He moved silently along the passageway, stopping briefly at the door to Legolas’s chamber, suddenly feeling the need to look in on his sleeping son as he had often done when he was a child. His son had suffered much in recent times, and Thranduil found himself becoming angry at the dark forces that had made warriors of all the younger Mirkwood Elves, stealing their innocence in the process.

A frown of concern creased Thranduil’s brow as he saw that although the sheets were in disarray, there was no golden haired head on the pillow and he stepped into the room and softly called to his son.

“Out here, Ada,” replied Legolas. He was fully awake and standing out on the balcony, gazing upwards.

“What are you doing out here?” asked Thranduil as he followed his son’s upraised eyes.

“I am playing a game with the trees,” whispered Legolas as he turned his shining eyes towards Thranduil who looked confused. “See how the leaves are moving, they are trying to hide the stars from me, and I am foiling their attempt, for when I sing to the jewels in the sky, they shine so brightly that I can easily see them through the foliage,” he explained in a voice reminiscent of the elf child he once was. Thranduil laughed and drew his son close.

“At least one of us is in a carefree mood this night,” he said. Legolas stiffened slightly and shook his head.

“It is my way of dealing with the nightmares,” he said softly, the melancholy in his voice was like a knife in the King’s heart.

“It appears we are both plagued with dark dreams tonight,” he sighed sadly, tenderly kissing the golden silk that rested beneath his chin.

“Does the shadow haunt your sleep again Ada?” asked Legolas with concern as he moved so that he could see the cherished face.

“Ai, the torment is somewhat stronger lately, but perhaps some warm milk and a pastry or two will aid us both,” he suggested as they stepped back into the bed chamber. Legolas smiled and nodded his agreement as he picked up his robe and arm in arm they headed quietly for the kitchen.

No one was about, for it was still far too early for even the bread making to begin, yet to Legolas’s surprise there was some milk warming on the stove, and two mugs and a selection of pastries waiting for them on the table.

“I wonder if Tariel is in fact related to Galadriel,” commented Thranduil dryly as he easily guessed who had been there before them. Legolas laughed and poured the milk and the two sat in silence as they enjoyed their treat.

“I think I will have to finally send a patrol to scout as close to Dol Guldur as possible. I am certain that is where my unrest lies,” said Thranduil after several minutes of contemplation.

“I think a patrol will not be wise, Ada. Such a venture requires secrecy that will not be possible with a large group of Elves, no matter how stealthily we move. Tathar and I will go,” Legolas the warrior and patrol leader told Thranduil. The King looked as his son as if seeing him for the first time in that role, and felt enormous pride in him, and he also had to defer to the wisdom of his words.

“A well considered plan, but fraught with danger,” he replied slowly, not really willing to risk losing his son. Legolas sensed his fears and placed a reassuring hand on his Ada’s arm.

“Tathar knows those parts of the woods better than anyone, and I have your ability to sense the darkness. We are best suited for the task, and we will return,” he said with confidence.

Tathar ripped another large thread of spider web from his hair, and turned to glare at Legolas who seemed to be able to avoid the grey filaments hanging from the trees that were attracted to him.

“Mellon nin, the next time you feel the need to volunteer me for a mission, make sure it is something really unpleasant, like escorting the wine casks back from Lake Town,” he said with deliberate sarcasm.

“Are you not enjoying our adventure so far?” asked Legolas innocently, reaching to take a sticky thread from Tathar’s hair.

“Adventure! Sneaking up on whatever is infesting Dol Guldur, when Mithrandir warned us to keep away, I might add, is hardly an adventure!” he declared in the loudest whisper he dared, ever mindful of the need to pass through the dangerous territory unnoticed. They had been travelling south for well over a week, and as they neared their destination, shadows grew ever darker and the air more oppressive, not only from the lack of sunlight that could not penetrate into the thickness of the trees, but from the feeling of evil that even Tathar could now sense. They both stopped suddenly, fully alert as the sound of twigs breaking beneath boots reached their ears, and in less than a heartbeat the Elves had hidden themselves, arrows at the ready as the noises grew louder.

“By the Valar!” they heard someone curse, followed by the sound of a body falling heavily to the forest floor. Silence. Legolas glanced at Tathar, and following a wordless command, they crept forward slowly and noiselessly to the source of the sound. Legolas approached the fallen figure cautiously while Tathar stood armed and at the ready to defend his friend. Had it not been for the long grey beard, and the piercing eyes that looked on him with fear that turned swiftly to relieved recognition, Legolas would not have recognised the bruised and scarred one as Mithrandir. He quickly eased his arms around the obviously battered body and lifted the wizard to rest his head in his lap. Still keeping his senses on guard, Tathar bent down and offered the old man some water, which he drank thirstily.

“I tripped on one of those accursed roots,” replied Mithrandir as he sat up and examined his rather swollen ankle. Legolas and Tathar exchanged an exasperated glance; even in this state the Istar was obtuse.

“I meant, what happened before that. Why are you here, and who hurt you?” he asked in a tone that demanded a sensible answer.

“I have escaped from the Necromancer, not without some damage as you see. He is not what he seems and I must call an urgent Council meeting,” he replied failing in his attempt to stand. “Help me walk Legolas. We cannot afford to linger here too long for I may have been followed.”

“We can take refuge in the deserted village we saw not far from here,” suggested Tathar.

“Nay, I need to speak to Galadriel, I must go to Lothlórien,” insisted Mithrandir as he reached for his staff that he had dropped when he fell. Legolas wondered how it was that he had escaped with it intact, but decided not to ask; knowing he was not likely that he would receive a sensible answer.

“Then we will take you there. The village is close to the river and there is sure to be a boat or raft we can use to take you across the Anduin to Lothlórien,” said Legolas as he helped his friend stand.

“Excellent! Lead the way, Tathar!”” declared Mithrandir with his usual cheerfulness that did not mask the pain and concern in his eyes.

After several gruelling hours, and an unexpected stop to defend themselves from attack by a small band of spiders, they finally arrived at what remained of the village. Tathar and his scouts had escorted the survivors to safety after the attack several months ago, and now there was little but burnt shells of huts and the rotting remains of the orcs that the Elves had left exposed to the elements. Legolas settled Mithrandir beneath one of the lesser damaged trees and then joined Tathar in search of a craft to bear them across the river.

“There are only two small boats, both of which need to be repaired before we can use them,” Tathar said as Legolas bent to inspect them for himself.

“It should not be too difficult; we only need to reach the opposite shore. I am certain the Galadhrim will lend us one of theirs to return in,” said Legolas as he stood and looked to the distant shore where he could easily make out the small stream that was the tributary leading to the haven in Lothlórien. “Besides, I doubt our presence on the river will go unnoticed. Dol Guldur threatens the Golden Wood as well.”

They chose the less damaged boat to repair, and using skills learned from the River Elves, they soon had the craft more or less watertight. As they were helping the Istar to climb aboard, the trees suddenly whispered a warning in their fear and anger as a band of orcs trampled their way destructively towards the village.

“Quickly, Legolas! They have found us!’ said Tathar needlessly as the two Elves applied their strength to push the boat across the rocky shore and into the water. They had barely moved into the deeper stream before a hail of arrows rained down on them.

“Row, Tathar!” said Legolas as he stood sure footed and, without even rocking the boat, quickly dispatched a volley of arrows at the enemy on the shore. They were soon out of danger, for the other boat that they had used for spare wood to repair their own was useless to the orcs.

As Legolas had predicted, the guards on the western shore were well aware of their approach, and the orcs who had been pursuing them, and several boats were sent to meet them and escort them safely to the haven where Galadriel and Celeborn waited to greet them.

“I see you have managed to find yourself some mischief,” said Celeborn lightly to Mithrandir as he took in his battered appearance.

“More than you know, Celeborn,” he replied seriously. “However I have these fine young warriors to thank for my safety,” he added with a smile of gratitude and affection for Legolas and Tathar.

“Your news can wait until your wounds have been tended,” said Galadriel gently, offering the Istar her arm as support as she lead him to the healing talan. Legolas and Tathar could not help but smile as they heard the wizard’s final words.

“There is no need to fuss, Galadriel… however, a nice goblet of your fine wine might ease the pain of my ankle somewhat.”

Celeborn raised an eyebrow in amusement and then turned his attention to the Mirkwood Elves.

“I easily recognise you, Thranduilion, but who is your brave companion?” he asked Legolas.

“This is my dear friend, Tathar, my lord,” he replied respectfully as Tathar bowed politely.

“Welcome to Lothlórien, Tathar. Please come and join me in some refreshments while we are waiting for Mithrandir, for I am certain there will be a message for you to take to Thranduil shortly,” said Celeborn as he led them to the talan that was his and Galadriel’s home.

“I think we must follow a different route back to Mirkwood,” said Legolas as they sat on the balcony enjoying the beauty of the mellryn of Calas Galadhon, and the fruit and wine they had been served.

“Ai, I do not wish to face those ugly creature Legolas was shooting at, they are probably very angry by now,” said Tathar light heartedly.

“I imagine they are,” agreed Celeborn with mirth in his eyes. “I will have Haldir escort you to the northern march where you will be able to safely cross the Anduin.”

Thranduil was relieved to see the two returned safely and listened attentively to Legolas’s report, before reading the final words of the lengthy message from Celeborn once again and smiled.

“It is necessary for the White Council to meet and discuss this situation, and I ask that Mirkwood host the meeting, for the shadow hangs more heavily over your realm than elsewhere at present and I know you are unwilling to leave.

Despite the hectic preparations to receive so many important guests, and the excitement of seeing so may well known and respected leaders in their midst, a sense of peace began to fall over Mirkwood with each new arrival for the Council meeting. Thranduil smiled as he recalled Tathar’s observation that they could feel even more well protected whilst the combined power of three Elven Lords, Lady Galadriel, Saruman and Mithrandir were in residence, and that not even Sauron would have the arrogance to attack Mirkwood. Many of the Wood Elves held the same opinion as Tathar, but the notion in no way assuaged their King’s sense of dread.

“Not unless he had somehow found the One Ring,” Thranduil thought ruefully, his blood turning to ice at the thought

Finally the day came when all the members of the White Council had arrived, and on their first evening together they enjoyed a quiet meal in Thranduil’s private dining room before retiring early in anticipation of an extended meeting the next day. The talk at the table had begun with a simple exchange of pleasantries and the news of happenings in each of the Elven realms, and only touched briefly on the reason for the Council. Saruman scoffed at the idea that Sauron was the Necromancer, but spoke no further on the subject when Glorfindel wisely interceded with an amusing tales from his incredible and occasionally infamous past. It disturbed Thranduil that even in such a relaxed atmosphere of apparent good humour, none could hide the occasional flash of apprehension from eyes that looked into the past and saw the future.

The King sighed tiredly as the last of his guests bid him goodnight, and rather reluctant to follow their example, he poured himself another glass of wine and moved out onto the balcony to savour the coolness of the night air that was perfumed with the scent of the forest.

“It is an excellent vintage, many thanks for the gift Elrond,” he said without turning as the sound of the wine bottle being replaced on the dining table alerted him to the presence of another.

“You are welcome, I remembered it was your favourite,” replied the Lord of Imladris as he came to stand beside the King and gazed out into the darkness, sipping his wine in silence. “Your forest is beautiful in the brightness of day, but even more so by night,” he commented after a few moments.

“Ai, although the darkness casts a shadow, it cannot diminish the light of the stars,” replied Thranduil as he cast his eyes to the twinkling bright jewels that shone from the blackness above.

“Yet I see the shadow hangs heavily over your heart, mellon nin, and I can sense its power more strongly here than in Imladris,” Elrond admitted, shivering as his blood chilled even as he spoke.

“Despite what Saruman thinks, I know Sauron has returned and is gathering his strength. I can feel it as it haunts my dreams,” stated Thranduil. Elrond studied his friend closely and saw the tell tale signs of lack of sleep and knew that Thranduil was speaking more than metaphorically.

“Come, I will make you a sleeping potion that will free you from your nightmares yet will leave you alert and refreshed when you awake. There is much to be discussed at the meeting tomorrow,” he said.

As the King’s son, Legolas was expected to be on hand to greet the members of the council as they arrived, and Tathar and his patrol had been temporarily reassigned to act extra guards. Thranduil was taking no chances with anyone’s safety now that the frequent appearance of crebain in the skies above caused him to strongly suspect the presence of spies in his midst. He had already taken the precaution of closing his borders to any other than the Firstborn, keeping only his trade with the Men of Laketown open due to necessity.

Elladan and Elrohir had accompanied the party from Imladris, both to personally oversee their Adar’s safe arrival, as well as to spend a few days with Legolas and Tathar, and now that the Council had begun, the four younger Elves who were not privy to the event, were looking for amusement.

“Anything but spider hunting,” grumbled Elrohir causing the others to laugh at his discomfort with the creatures.

“Perhaps a swim, then?” suggested Legolas, who also was in no mood for battle. Midsummer was fast approaching and although the day was but a few hours old, it was quite warm. The others agreed it was an excellent idea, and soon they were diving and splashing about like children in the deep lake that was the source of a small stream that flowed into the Forest River.

When their energy had been spent and each had received sufficient dunking from the others, they stretched out on the grassy shore and allowed Anor’s warm fingers to caress their glistening water-logged bodies dry.

“Haldir told us of your rescue of Mithrandir,” Elladan said lazily raising himself up on one elbow so that he could look at Legolas as he spoke.

“To be fair, he escaped Dol Guldur on his own, we merely transported him across the river,” explained Legolas.

“After we fixed the boat,” added Tathar proudly, much more willing to accept praise for the venture than his friend.

“It never occurred to me that you two were skilled as shipwrights,” Elrohir mused as he watched as Legolas studied the delicate butterfly that had landed on his hand, making no move to cause it to fly away. He looked up to see his friend watching and smiled.

“The Forest River is our means of transport for the goods we trade with the Men of Laketown. We are by no means shipwrights, but knowing how to fix a leaking boat…” he began to reply.

“…. Or how to keep your barge tied together…. ,” interrupted Tathar gleefully.

“…. is preferable to finding yourself immersed fully dressed in the water, and losing your cargo in the process,” said Legolas, obviously with the voice of experience. The amused glance he exchanged with his friend did not go unnoticed by Elladan and Elrohir.

“Let us in on the joke!” demanded Elladan sensing there was merriment to be told.

“Ai, tell us!” entreated Elrohir, whose curiosity was also piqued. Legolas waved his hand to indicate he deferred the story telling to Tathar, causing the butterfly to take flight and then lay back and listened.

“Legolas and I had never before been to Laketown, and decided that travelling by River would make a pleasant change to horseback. The King was reluctant to let us do so, since we were both totally inexperienced in the ways of water craft, but eventually agreed to let us go if we went with the more experienced Elves. Of course, that arrangement was not entirely to our liking, and after several threats to his favourite bow, I managed to coerce Legolas into going on our own. His only condition was that we at least take a few of the empty wine barrels with us so that we were not being too deceptive, to which I agreed.

We were arguing about the differences between the barges and the boats the River Elves use, and could not agree on which was faster. Legolas favoured the barge, and I the boat so the only sensible course of action was to take both and make a wager on who would reach Laketown first.”

“Ai, but neither of us wanted to lose and have to fletch the other’s arrows for a month, which was the stakes, so our… ahem… competitive natures…shall we say, took over,” replied Tathar with feigned innocence. Legolas rolled his eyes and spoke up.

“Competitive indeed! You untied the ropes holding the logs of my barge together!”

“I only loosened some so that when they became fully wet they would no longer hold the craft together, the others I merely cut through so that they also would bot hold. You were well on the way to our destination before it fell apart beneath you, and there was really no danger, for you are an excellent swimmer and made it to shore safely,” said Tathar totally nonplussed by his friend’s accusation.

“Then are we to assume you won, Tathar? Did you reach Laketown first?” asked Elladan, not believing for a moment Legolas had not retaliated in some way.

“Nay, I did not! Tathar replied hotly, still highly affronted at the thought. “By some strange will of the Valar, as soon as Legolas was on dry land, MY boat began taking on water from the tiny holes he had made before we left Mirkwood!”

“Tathar had to row to shore before the boat sank. He tried to use the wood from the empty wine barrels to fix the leaks, but did not know how,” smirked Legolas, not even attempting to look innocent.

“So you both became stranded on the river bank. Then how did you get back to Mirkwood?” asked Elladan with laughter in his voice at the image of the two shipwrecked Elves.

“We decided to wait for the next delivery to Laketown, which unfortunately was not until the next day, and then hailed for our rescue. Naturally the King was not amused, having spent the night concerned for Legolas’s safety.”

“Ai, and mine. When he learned of our folly, he was so enraged at our lack of commonsense, for deceiving him and for our inability to fix the boat, not to mention the loss of the wine barrels, that he ordered us to spend time with the River Elves until we had learned how to both build and repair water craft,” said Tathar.

“It was hard work, but in fact it was quite enjoyable,” Legolas added. “We spent many a pleasant evening in the taverns until Tathar decided to argue with the Dwarves.” Elladan and Elrohir laughed heartily as Legolas quickly recounted that incident.

“I imagine our elders will be similarly occupied with the Council tomorrow, and I am suddenly of a mind to try my hand at boating. It sounds like fun. We have been thrown out of one or two taverns ourselves, but we have never visited Laketown,” commented Elrohir, raising a questioning eyebrow at Elladan who caught his meaning and smiled wickedly, nodding his agreement.

“Ai, a relaxing boat trip, followed by a quiet drink and perhaps an argument with a Dwarf or two for good measure will help relieve the boredom of waiting.”

Legolas and Tathar exchanged a look of dismay at the sight that greeted them as they entered the clearing that served as part of the shore of the Long Lake. Lake-town lay in ruins before them. They had come late to join Thranduil and his army, delayed by the need to wait for Legolas’s broken arm to heal properly before he was able to fight once more. Tathar had stayed behind to act as escort, and to assuage his guilt for having inadvertently causing the injury. He had tripped and hit his head on a rock when fighting a band of orcs, and in his confused state of mind, had thought Legolas’s helping hand reaching for him was in fact that of an orc. He had hit it hard with the hilt of his sword, his eyes widening with shock as he had recognised his friend’s loud cry of agony as the bone snapped. Legolas had easily forgiven the mistake, but Tathar felt he had to make amends, especially when Thranduil decided to march after the Dwarves who had escaped his dungeons. As they neared Lake-town, word reached them that the men sought the aid of the Elves in their battle against Smaug, and whilst the Elvenking was not fond of Men, neither could he refuse a plea for assistance and had not hesitated in turning his army towards the Long Lake, sending a messenger back to inform Legolas of his change of plans.

The low water level exposed the rotting trunks of the Mirkwood trees that had once been the foundations of Esgaroth in days gone by and these were now joined by the still smouldering foundations of the recent demolition by the dragon bravely killed by Bard and served to remind them all that unseen evil had long resided in Arda. Such knowledge was enough to explain the feeling of melancholy that hung in the air, but even more heart breaking was the small number of survivors who now sought shelter with the River Elves.

Thranduil had turned his army from their journey east in search of the Dwarf’s treasure to travel to Lake-town at Bard’s request for aid in defeating Smaug, the dragon. All were relieved that Smaug was no more, and that the Men and Elves had put aside their differences in the face of their common enemy. The strength conferred by such unity provided all with a brief respite from despair. Yet tears flowed freely as the Elves sang a soft, sweet lament first for the Men who had died protecting their loved ones, and then for their own kin who had passed to the Halls of Waiting.

Thranduil instructed some of his warriors to help Bard ensure that the fires were all out and to seek along the shores for any others who had escaped the burning town while Legolas and Tathar walked among the remaining townsfolk, mostly women and children, offering what comfort they could.

Both of the young warriors had fond memories of their last visit to the town many years

before when they and Elrond’s sons had spent an evening in the tavern near the Great Hall. They had journeyed to Lake-town by boat as they had planned, leaving well before dawn so that they would arrive by evening. Being more accustomed to water travel, Legolas and Tathar had enjoyed the tranquillity of the waters of the Forest River, and the gentle rocking of the boat, whereas Elladan and Elrohir took some time to adjust. Tathar’s sweet words had convinced them that if they took the oars, the slight discomfort they were feeling would soon disappear. At first Elladan and Elrohir had readily bowed to his advice, but they soon learned it was merely a ruse to make them work. Their ire at being tricked disappeared quickly when they were forced to concede it was indeed a good way to strengthen muscles required for swordplay and archery training, and as such was no real hardship.

Thranduil and Elrond had been a little wary about giving their sons permission for the trip at the time, but had seen the truth in Glorfindel’s jesting observation that if the four young Elves were to find some mischief while seeking relief from the boredom of waiting for the White Council to finish its deliberations, it would make no difference where they were. He had winked at his young friends; his eyes alight with a wicked gleam when their Adars agreed. As they took their leave he was heard to mutter that had he a choice he would be joining them.

When they arrived in Lake-town later that evening, the tavern was crowded, and finding no Dwarves to annoy, Elladan and Elrohir had decided to direct their attention to the tavern owner’s daughter. In a style not unlike that they had often seen Glorfindel use, they rather outrageously flirted with the maid, not realising that her young suitor was seated nearby, glowering at their behaviour. Elladan was speaking so softly that the young maid had to bend close to his lips to hear his words; a compliment judging by her pretty blush, Legolas had thought at the time. Her young man had thought differently, and in his jealousy had challenged Elladan to a fight. Although the suitor’s courage was not in question, his wisdom at such a rash action was, for he had no hope of defeating a well trained Elf warrior.

The maid’s father knew this, and he also knew that Legolas was the Woodland King’s son, and asked him to intervene. He wished to prevent the young man from being harmed, and to keep his tavern in tact. Legolas and Tathar exchanged an almost guilty smile when they learned his grandfather had told him a tale of the kind of havoc an insulted and angry Elf was capable of wreaking.

Not wishing to harm relations with Thranduil’s trading partners, and risk both his and Elrond’s anger, Elladan politely declined to fight. Several rather loud and somewhat drunk men of swarthy appearance heard this, and declared the Elf to be afraid of combat and then proceeded to insinuate that perhaps it was the favours of the beautiful prince the dark haired Elf really fancied. Elrohir rose angrily in defence of his brother’s honour, as Tathar did for Legolas, both drawing their swords to back up their threat. Their antagonists did likewise, and but for the timely intervention of Bard and the Lake-men accompanying him, blood might well have been shed. The strange men were forcibly evicted from the tavern, much to the Elve’s delight, but heir satisfaction was short lived. Bard suggested, in the most polite and respectful manner, that it was a lovely warm evening and perhaps they would prefer to spend the rest of the night under the stars in the company of their own kin.

Elrohir and Tathar were still furious, but allowed themselves to be lead from the tavern. As they crossed the bridge, they had laughed merrily at Elladan’s folly and his comment that he had never been so politely thrown out of a tavern before.

And as the melancholy singing continued, Tathar turned to find Legolas no longer at his side, but standing at the water’s edge, staring into the inky blackness of its depths.

“What troubles you, mellon nin?” he asked as he tenderly placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Eyes bright with unshed tears and more than a little anger met his.

“The day Faelas died?” asked Tathar knowingly, his voice catching on his son’s name. Legolas nodded and quickly changed the painful subject.

“Even the waters of the lake reflect nothing but darkness,” he said sorrowfully.

“Ai, and your black mood,” commented Tathar, sensing the deep anger and drawing his friend close. Legolas allowed the gesture of comfort and rested his head on the strong shoulder for a moment before turning to look up into Tathar’s eyes

“I am heart sick at seeing nothing but death and destruction in our lives. The Shadow has much to answer for, and yet for the first time I understand Adar’s anger at Isildur for not putting an end to it when he had the chance,” said Legolas.

“Yet, if what Elrohir and Elladan say is true, some dark force has sought vengeance on Isildur’s heirs. Arathorn was killed whilst under their protection only three years after Arador. The line is broken,” commented Tathar. Legolas made no reply, for he knew that Arathorn had left a son who was being fostered at Imladris, but he was not at liberty to pass the information on to his friend. It hurt him to deceive the one person he trusted as much as his Adar, but he well understood the need for secrecy and the price he must sometimes pay for being the King’s son and heir.

“I swear that if I ever find myself with such a chance to rid this world of evil, I will do so,” he vowed vehemently, reaching down to pick up a rock and throw it into the water. It was a symbolic gesture of shattering the darkness.

“We have already made that pact, and act on it when we hunt spiders in Mirkwood or Orcs with Elrond’s sons,” Tathar pointed out.

“I know, but I have this strange feeling that there will come a time when we will not always be together, but that we will both be in battle,” Legolas said quietly.

There were few places along the mighty Anduin that were shallow enough to allow the river to be forded, but fortunately one such place was on the path between Imladris and Mirkwood. Here a narrow rocky bridge had formed as the river bed fell with the lay of the land, forming a deep pool the waters of which cascaded over the edge of the natural dam as the river flowed onto the sea. There were no trees this close to the riverbank, only a thick green blanket of grass, and so Legolas and Tathar had an unhindered view of the opposite bank where stood the two dark haired Elves they had come to meet. After many failed attempts due to trouble on their borders, the four young friends had managed to be granted a leave from their duties and had arranged to spend some time together, doing anything but seeking Orcs.

“What are they doing?” asked Tathar, frowning in puzzlement as he saw Elladan and Elrohir were both naked and holding a struggling form between them.

“Apparently attempting to drown their companion,” Legolas merrily replied, showing little concern as their friends unceremoniously threw the fully clothed Man with them into the pool. The sound of Legolas’s voice carried across the river and the Elves in question waved a greeting with their now unburdened hands.

“Nay, we were simply trying to ensure that the Dúnedan, and his attire, are properly bathed before meeting Mirkwood’s prince,” explained Elrohir who promptly joined the two already in the water. Estel glared at him, his face reddened with embarrassment and anger, but said nothing. Legolas could see the flash of delight as a wicked thought crossed the young man’s mind and suspected that he was not yet bested by his foster brothers. Estel caught his glance and in the moment that grey eyes held eyes filled with star light the flame of friendship was kindled in both their hearts. He returned the knowing smile and with a wink indicated that the Elf’s suspicion was correct.

With a brief nod and a gleam of mirth in his eye, Legolas silently wished him success.

“Mae govannen Legolas... Tathar. I do not believe you have met our foster brother, Estel,” said Elladan with mock ceremony as he turned to face the new arrivals who now stood on the edge of the pool laughing at the sight before them. Estel took advantage of the slightly distracted Elladan and kicked his feet from under him causing him to fall backwards into the clear depths. Elrohir laughed heartily at his brother’s fate, only to find a large wave of water splashing into his open mouth as Estel sought revenge on him as well. The young Man then mustered as much dignity as his predicament, and his dripping wet clothes allowed, straightened his shoulders and walked from the pool with head held high.

“I am pleased to meet you, Prince Legolas,” he said placing his hand on his heart as he bowed respectfully. Legolas returned the gesture and dismounted before replying.

“I am simply called Legolas, and this is Tathar.” Nods of greeting were exchanged and then feeling eyes still on him, Estel turned to look questioningly at the Elf. Legolas realised he was staring, and hastily apologised.

“Forgive my curiosity, Estel. I have not met one of the Dúnedain until this moment.”

“Nor I a Mirkwood Elf,” replied Estel, not knowing why, but sensing that Legolas had not told the entire truth. In fact the Elf had not, for it was the regal aura and hint of hidden power and majesty of the man before him that had really captured his attention. He could see the uncrowned king, but could not openly acknowledge it to other than Elladan and Elrohir who were also sworn to secrecy.

“Are you three going to stand there all day, or will you join us in the water?” called Elrohir as he resurfaced after pulling Elladan under with him. Legolas and Tathar quickly scouted the area with their inner senses, ever alert to the dangers that could plague even a simple swim.

“We are alone, I sense no one other than ourselves in this area,” Legolas told his friend.

“Nor do I, and Anor is still high in the sky so we need not fear attack by orcs at this time of day,” replied Tathar as he removed his weapons and quickly divested himself of his clothes, eager to join the Imladris Elves in the refreshing coolness. In a few moments, Legolas and Estel had done likewise, and soon the sounds of merry laughter and splashing of water followed by shouts of mock outrage shattered the peace of the hot afternoon.

After a time the water sport ceased to hold its appeal and the five glistening wet bodies settled on the soft grass to allow Anor’s caresses to dry them. The warmth of the air and the energy expended in their swim left them all feeling relaxed and so lazy that soon all but Aragorn and Legolas were lost in their dreams. The Elf and Man talked quietly, speaking as freely on matters both trivial and personal as if they had been close friends for years. Both were surprised at their easy affinity, and decided that perhaps it was because Estel spoke Sindarin fluently and had been raised amongst Elves.

“Have you been to Dol Guldur?” Estel asked as he slid his almost dry shirt on to cover skin that was starting to feel the first tingling heat of too much sun.

“Nay, we do not venture there, the darkness weighs heavily on our spirits if we approach too near,” explained Legolas as he also decided it was time to dress.

“Even now that the White Council has driven the Necromancer from his lair?” enquired Estel with some interest. Legolas nodded.

“Are you suggesting we visit there, Estel?” interrupted Elrohir who had just awoken from his reverie.

“Ai, I am. We have not yet decided how to spend our time together, and I am curious to see that place,” replied the young man, his innocence in regard to the dangers of the wild very apparent to the four seasoned warriors.

“Such curiosity is dangerous!” declared Tathar, who favoured Legolas with a disapproving glare as he gently shook him awake.

“Surely there is safety in our numbers?” Estel suggested insistently. The four Elves exchanged glances that spoke of the naiveté of the young man, and the sad need to take away such an innocent notion.

“I am afraid that your inexperience in battle is showing, Estel,” said Elladan kindly. “You forget that it is barely ten years since Legolas and Tathar fought in the Battle of the Five Armies. They are far more experienced warriors than either Elrohir or me, yet they both think your choice of destination unwise.”

“I will never gain such either experience or wisdom if am not permitted to go with you on your patrols,” came the sullen reply. This was a constant sore point between Estel and his foster brothers, who had no authority to grant his request in this matter.

“That is a subject you must take up with Adar,” Elrohir stated firmly although he agreed totally with Estel’s observation. “For now, perhaps a compromise can be reached. Let us make for Dol Guldur and if our Woodland friends feel even a remnant of shadow descending, we will turn back.” He looked to Legolas and Tathar who conferred silently and agreed. Elrohir’s words made sense to Elladan as well and the destination for their adventure was agreed upon.

Since the others had journeyed to the ford on foot, Legolas and Tathar set their horses free, confident they would return to their stables.

“Will not the King become worried when riderless horses return?” asked Estel.

“Nay, my horse speaks freely with Adar, and just to be certain, I am plaiting a part of his mane in the fashion that says the rider is unharmed,” replied Legolas giving the animal a final pat once he had finished.

Tathar wisely suggested that they not travel through Mirkwood, but follow the Anduin until it was time to turn inland. It was a safer path that would allow them to avoid the many dark creatures and spiders that inhabited the trees in the darker parts of the forest. They set a slightly slower pace so as not to tire Estel, who although trained by Elves, possessed neither their swiftness of foot nor their stamina, and continued south until the lack of light became a hindrance, finally selecting a small stand of trees beneath which they spent the night.

Over the following few days, their journey was without incident from orc attacks, something they found disconcerting for they were certain it was ill news. Their senses were ever on the alert for danger, and at night there were always two awake on watch. Legolas and Estel shared one watch and spent much of the time talking together and their growing friendship delighted Elladan and Elrohir but not so Tathar. He became increasingly introspective as he distanced himself from his friend rather than voice his growing anxiety over the relationship. The dark looks he favoured Estel with when he thought no one was watching, and his short and often sharp replies to the young man’s attempts to include him in the conversations soon forced Legolas to draw him aside for a private talk.

“What is wrong, Tathar? Are you not enjoying our little adventure?” he asked, placing a gentle hand on his friend’s cheek so that he could turn his face and force him to meet his eyes.

“Ai, indeed I am. Elladan and Elrohir are excellent company, and it is pleasant to not have to make decisions that may result in the death of one of my warriors,” he replied truthfully.

“Am I not also good company?” asked Legolas letting his friend hear the hurt in his voice at the implication of his words.

“Always, mellon nin… at least when I have your attention,” he added unable to stop himself from glaring through the trees at Estel as he sat smoking his pipe.

“You are jealous of my friendship with the Dúnedan!” declared Legolas finally realising the cause of Tathar’s dark mood.

“It is not jealousy I feel, but fear for you. He is a mortal, Legolas. Do not become too attached to him for time will take him from you and I would not have you suffer any further grief. You have suffered enough already,” replied Tathar. Legolas stared at his friend for a moment, unable to speak as his emotions whirled about his heart and clouded his thoughts. He was unsure of whether he was angered by what seemed to be Tathar’s attempted interference, or overwhelmed with love and gratitude for his friend’s concern. He decided it was both, but he sorrow, and fear in Tathar’s eyes was more than he could bear. With no concern for propriety, he drew Tathar into a strong embrace, kissing him lightly on the brow when he finally released him.

“You will always be the brother of my heart, Tathar, and I thank you for guarding it, but you must allow me to choose my friends. I know Estel is mortal, but I feel a connection to him that can not be denied.”

“Your words do little to ease my fears, but since I also look on you as my brother, know that I will be here to offer you comfort when the time comes,” Tathar promised, drawing Legolas into another embrace.

“Legolas! Tathar! Come and try this vegetable broth Elladan has made,” called Estel from a small distance away. He had been sent to find them, but even at his young age he knew they did not wish their conversation to be interrupted. He had often seen his foster brothers resolve their differences in the same affectionate manner, and was happy that Legolas and his friend had done likewise.

The next day they reached the village where from where they had taken Mithrandir across the Anduin to Lothlórien after he had escaped the Necromancers dungeons. They made their camp by the river, not wishing to stay in the village that was slowly being covered with vines and grasses as the forest reclaimed its own. A small fire was lit and whilst they waited for Elladan, who was really an excellent cook, to make another simple meal, Legolas and Tathar entertained the group with a few of the songs the Mirkwood warriors sang around their own campfires.

After the meal, those not on watch sought their bedrolls and settled down for the night. In an act that spoke of wisdom beyond his years, and his new found affection for Legolas, Estel feigned feeling too weary to stand guard with Legolas on the first watch, and had asked Tathar to take his place, thus giving the friends more time to talk. Tathar readily agreed but when he turned to tell Legolas he was going to scout the area, his friend was no longer beside him. He had moved away from the fire and was sitting in the lower branches of one of the trees, singing softly as he rested his head against the thick trunk.

“Thanking the tree for speaking with him,” replied Tathar with a shrug at the commonplace event.

“Ai, for the trees of Mirkwood are very fond of him, and love to hear him sing,” replied Tathar who suddenly shivered and looked to his friend who had ceased his song in mid verse. Legolas dropped lightly from the tree and ran back to the camp, his eyes wide with fear.

“Do you feel it, Tathar?” he whispered as he hurriedly put the fire out so that they would not be seen.

“What is it?” asked Elrohir who also now felt a tingling coldness, that he knew his twin also felt.

“The shadow has returned to Dol Guldur, and in greater force than before,” Legolas said with alarm. “The air has become close, filled with a sense of dread, and just now the trees spoke of three dark spirits that have returned to that place. All the forest around there has grown silent as the darkness engulfs them once more. We must leave at once and warn our Adars of the danger!”

It had become a pleasurable tradition for Adar and son to share a quiet moment whenever Legolas returned from a patrol or some other errand that took him into danger and so he had gone directly to Thranduil’s chambers with his news of Dol Guldur. The prince was not surprised to find that the King was aware of the returning evil to the south and that the icy fingers of the cold hand of the nameless dread gripped his heart. Nor was he surprised to learn that Lothlórien’s eye was once more fixed on the tower across the Anduin. Although he kept his realm in some isolation, Thranduil nonetheless held the Lord of Lothlórien in high regard and some affection and was able to far speak his distant kin when necessary, as it was in these dangerous times. The King of Mirkwood was no fool and while he respected the power of the Istari, and that of the Elven ring bearers, he could not deny the capabilities of their formidable foe. Sauron was not a force to be underestimated, even in his disembodied state.

“It is well that you and Tathar escorted the Imladris brethren and Estel back to the ford, for there has been ever increasing Orc activity in the past few days, and Celeborn tells me the same is true of the borders of the Golden Wood,” Thranduil said as he handed his son a goblet of wine and settled opposite him in one of the pair of armchairs placed before the small hearth.

They were seated in the roomy alcove to one side of the King’s bedchamber that served both as a private study and refuge from the sometimes burden of kingship. There was a large archway leading out into a secluded garden, and along the wall opposite the fireplace stood elegantly carved cupboards whose shelves were home to many books as well as an assortment of the gifts a very young Legolas had made to his parents in happier times. Above the mantle, in pride of place, was a portrait of Thranduil and Elisiel, painted with very little skill, but much love. The artist’s signature, written in letters that indicated one who had not yet mastered the written word, simply said: “For Ada and Nana, with love, Legolas.” A wistful sigh escaped the King’s lips and Legolas looked up to see the cause, smiling as he thought back to the day the painting had been presented.

Lessons had never been one of Legolas’s favourite pastimes, for his free spirited nature resented being kept indoors when there was so much to do in the forest. Had it not been for the fact that Tathar had already mastered the skills of reading and writing, the young prince would have tried his hardest to avoid lessons altogether. As it was, this particular day he had another reason not to attend his tutor, but it was a secret he did not wish to share, so he tried another approach after Thranduil denied his first request to be excused.

“But, Ada, my friends will be lonely if I do not visit them every day,” he had protested, his face a picture of such sadness that Thranduil almost relented.

“Neither the trees nor the deer nor the butterflies will mind if you tend to your learning first, and they will still be there this afternoon when your lessons have ended for the day,” he said, trying his best to sound stern. Legolas knew better than to continue arguing and meekly agreed to do as he was told. Whether by some twist of fate, or by design of a higher power, the reluctant student was surprised to find his tutor send him from the classroom when a message arrived informing the elder Elf that the Queen required his assistance with translating an old scroll she had found in the library. Elisiel had overheard the debate between father and son, and had decided to surreptitiously intervene in this instance.

Silently promising his Nana an extra big hug and several kisses, Legolas ran to his chamber where he was pleased to find that Tariel, who he had sworn to secrecy, had provided the necessary materials for his surprise.

“What are you painting?” asked Tathar as he entered the room and saw his friend standing before an easel. The younger Elf was so engrossed in his work that he failed to hear Tathar move to the table that was covered with many small pots of colour, but was soon alerted to his friend’s presence when a dollop of cold blue paint landed on his neck. An enraged pair of eyes met with ones filled with sparkling amusement.

“Be careful! You will damage the picture!” he shouted, moving so that his body was now between his work and his friend’s aim. With no hint of movement, Legolas then proceeded to reply to his assault in kind, scoring a direct hit with a nice shade of green on Tathar’s nose. The war had begun, and after several minutes and a concerted effort to avoid hitting the painting, both warriors were rolling around the floor laughing at each others paint splattered appearance.

“Nana will be furious when she sees the mess on the floor!” commented Legolas when he had finally settled back to his work.

“Not to mention the rainbow coloured tunic you are now wearing,” added Tathar wickedly. “This is not bad, for an Elf your age,” he added as he studied the portrait of the King and Queen. Legolas glared at the friendly insult or was it a compliment? He was not certain, but decided not to retaliate, for he needed Tathar’s help with the words he wanted to add to the bottom corner of the painting.

“Then since you are so much older and think yourself so clever, will you make sure my letters are written correctly?” Tathar nodded as he quickly read the words Legolas had written on a piece of paper.

“Ai, mellon nin, the scrawl… I mean…writing is a little difficult to read, but the letters are correct. Even if they weren’t your parents would think nothing of it,” he said reassuringly. “I take it this is your mid-Summer gift for them?”

It had been, and although he had been forced to gently reprimand his wife for her aid in their son’s plans, Thranduil was extremely pleased with the painting and praised it highly. Fortunately Legolas had thought to depict his Ada wearing his crown of leaves; otherwise the King might not have been exactly certain which of the figures was meant to represent him. Legolas took his Ada’s threat to punish Elisiel seriously, and so offered to clean the mess in his room as a form of penance.

“By all means you and Tathar must take care of that task, and I suggest you wash your tunics as well, but do not worry about me. I like the way I am to be punished,” Elisiel had told her son who did not notice the look of desire that passed between his parents.

Legolas smiled as he returned his thoughts to the present, only now realising what his Nana had meant.

“We did encounter a small band of about ten, but they were soon taken care of,” said Legolas in a manner that indicated no cause for concern. “Estel fights with almost the same skill as an Elf.”

“Estel? The son of the Dúnedan that Elrond is fostering?” asked Thranduil with some interest. “I did not realise you two had met.”

“Nor had we, until now. He is an intriguing Man and I believe we will be good friends,” commented Legolas. A flicker of displeasure lit Thranduil’s eyes, and did not go unnoticed by his son who frowned slightly.

“Legolas, you may chose your own friends as you see fit, but I admit to some reservations in regard to you becoming close to one whose days are already numbered,” replied Thranduil, rising to move closer too his son and kneeling before him so that he could gaze into eyes that could not hide from the ageless depths of his Adar’s. “You have already experienced too much grief; I would not see your heart harmed further.”

“Tathar said the same thing, but my heart has become stronger than you think,” commented Legolas affectionately squeezing the hands that held his.

“Then we will speak no more of this,” said Thranduil as he stood and moved to his desk, and retrieved a map that he placed in the small table beside his son’s chair. “It is well that you returned early, for I need you to warn the remaining villagers in the south. Doubtless they are also aware of the evil that invades our shared forest, but it will do no harm to make certain. These are the only areas still inhabited by Men,” he said pointing to several red crosses on the map.

“It will take us several weeks to reach them all, but both Tathar and I will be ready to leave before noon tomorrow,” said Legolas.

True to his word, it was several hours before midday when the two rode across the bridge and set off on their errand. Whilst they lost the ability to travel stealthily on horseback, Thranduil had insisted they travel in this manner for it would make the journey faster and thus the exposure to danger less. Since most of the villages were on the outskirts of the forest or in the scattered woodlands on the borders, it was decided that the wisest course would be to follow the river.

If the villagers were surprised to find the two Elves bearing warnings, they were not as amazed as the bearers who were surprised to find that the news of the increased danger had already reached the first two villages on their route. That the word had been brought by a young man who was on a lone pilgrimage south only piqued their curiosity. Legolas and Tathar wondered at who this reckless stranger might be but soon learned his identity when they reached the third settlement.

“Legolas! Tathar! What brings you two so far from your forest home?” asked Estel as he clapped them both on the shoulder in a friendly greeting.

“I could ask you the same, Estel,” replied Legolas, smiling with delight at this unlooked for meeting.

“I will answer, but first let us avail ourselves of the hospitality of these kind folk,” he said as he ushered the Elves into a small hut that had graciously been given to him for the night.

“It starts with my return to Imladris for it was on that day that Lord Elrond revealed to me my true heritage, and the name given to me by my father,” he began.

“Aragorn,” said Legolas. Both his friends glared at him, obviously he knew more than either of them was aware. “Lord Elrond told Adar and I when you were first brought to Imladris and we were sworn to secrecy. He sought our cooperation in ensuring the anonymity and the protection of Isildur’s last heir.”

“I came to warn the villagers of the return of the Dark Lord before joining with the Rangers in the North where I truly belong,” Aragorn explained.

“Then I suggest you accompany us, and once we have completed our task we will escort you safely back through the Misty Mountains,” said Legolas. The words were friendly, but had the edge of a command, and Tathar was astounded to see Aragorn agree without complaint. That he would defer to the advice of the Elf spoke both of his wisdom and his humility and impressed Tathar greatly.

Over the course of their errand, they encountered a few rogue bands of Orc, and managed to destroy a spider’s lair that had encroached too close to one of the villages, and the friendship that was kindled between Aragorn and Legolas burnt now with a strong, steady flame, and while Tathar was not as enamoured of the uncrowned King as his friend, he nevertheless developed a healthy respect for the Man.

Chapter 23. Gollum

Mithrandir had ever been endeared by the ability of the Woodelves to put aside their fears and despair, even if only for a night’s merrymaking at the time of one of the elvish celebrations. Over the years since he first appeared unexpectedly in Mirkwood, his visits had been sporadic at best, but the wizard had always made an effort to ensure they coincided with one of these nights. This time was no different for he had come to honour the King’s conception day. Thranduil had no doubt that he had other reasons on his agenda, but the certainty in no way diminished the enigmatic Istar’s reception by the King and his people. The fact that the wizard always greeted the elder Elf with an affectionate embrace regardless of in whose company they were, and that Thranduil allowed it, warmed the hearts of all especially Legolas.

Naturally a feast had been prepared for the occasion, and everyone eagerly anticipated the delicacies Tariel and her helpers had prepared, as well as the opportunity to savour some of the finest wines from the King’s cellar.

“I wonder what news Mithrandir brings this time,” Tathar whispered to his friend as they took their places at the banquet table.

“I know not, but I can tell you he brought Adar a gift from Lord Elrond,” replied Legolas also in a whisper. Tathar’s eyes widened with curiosity and anticipation. “It is just a book, nothing of interest to you,” Legolas teased fondly. Tathar was not one to enjoy reading, whereas Legolas did so whenever possible. He had only caught a brief glimpse of the tome, but it was long enough to see that it had a deep brown leather cover, with a gold embossed leaf border.

Both Adar and son had been unable to stifle their gasp of astonishment when it was realised that, by some means not apparent to either, the colour of the cover, and the golden border design matched exactly with that of the thin leather book mark Legolas had made as his gift. It was a simple, yet elegant piece of craftwork, all the more precious because it was made with loving hands. When questioned as to how such a coincidence could be, Mithrandir had shrugged and claimed ignorance of the ways of the Valar.

“A pity. I had hoped it was something more enjoyable, perhaps a flask of the cordial of Imladris, like last year. I suppose I will have to wait until our next trip there, whenever that may be, before I can once again sample that delicious nectar,” sighed a disappointed Tathar.

“Such a journey may be just around the corner, but such serious matters have no place at a party,” suggested Mithrandir with a knowing wink as he took his place beside Thranduil. Tathar and Legolas exchanged a questioning glance at this hint, but knew their friend well enough to realise he would say no more on the subject until he was ready. They decided to forgo the, mysterious wizard’s company in favour of joining in the dancing. Legolas had long decided that there was indeed some pleasure in being permitted to hold a fair maiden close, and Tathar had appointed himself chaperone to protect the honour of either the maiden or his friend, depending on who may have been attempting unseemly behaviour, at least in public.

Despite his apparent age, Mithrandir danced and sang with the Elves until the first rays of morning sunlight fought their way through the thick canopy, and no one guessed that he had taken only a few hours sleep before he met with the King, Legolas and the various captains to discuss the latest developments in the south. Thranduil paled when he heard that the creature, Gollum, was thought to know the whereabouts of the One Ring, and he readily agreed to allow the strange being to be brought to Mirkwood once he had been captured. Not only did he fear for the safety of the old Hobbit Bilbo who Mithrandir suspected to be in possession of the dark object, and of whom Thranduil was quite fond, but he feared for all of Arda.

“I have enlisted Aragorn’s aid in this matter, and I trust it will not be long before he succeeds in capturing the wretched Gollum,” Mithrandir said, noting the warm smile that lit Legolas’s eyes at the mention of his friend’s name. He was obviously delighted to hear that he was likely to see his friend soon.

Aragorn and he had not met often in the intervening years since the young Man had learned of his heritage, for the Ranger had spent many decades away in the south on errantry, but on the rare occasions their paths had crossed, it was as if they had never been parted so strong was their friendship. The last time they had done so was shortly after Aragorn had paid Lothlórien a visit. Legolas had never seen him so happy and sad at the same time… the future King and his love, Arwen had promised themselves to each other, but they did not yet have Elrond’s blessing. Thoughts of Elrond reminded him he had not yet found out the title of his Adar’s gift and so it was later that evening that Legolas’s curiosity found him seeking a few moments with Thranduil in his private study.

“This book has no title, but judging by its weight it contains many words of wisdom,” joked Legolas as he picked up the thick volume that was quite heavy to hold an inspected both the cover and the spine.

“Open to the first page,” suggested Thranduil, smiling at the jest as he relaxed in his armchair and closely watched his son’s reactions as he read both the title page.

“The Last Alliance, by Elrond Peredhel and Thranduil Oropherion.” Legolas’s voice was filled with wonder and he looked to his Adar for an explanation.

“I see you wish to hear about the book, but first perhaps a glass of wine to overcome your shock?” suggested Thranduil with thinly veiled amusement. Legolas nodded sipped the wine whilst his Adar spoke.

“As you have often heard, your grandsire and Gil-galad shared a certain animosity for one another, and many versions of the events of that battle were spread, some based loosely on fact, but others on total nonsense. These rumours gained wide acceptance as fact when both Elrond and I did not speak more than a few words after the battle. We had both suffered grievous losses and we were not even inclined to march home together. This lead most to believe that the feud between Adar and the King was being perpetuated, and after about one hundred years, Elrond and I both tired of hearing such stories and so decided to write an account that no one could dispute. It has taken millennia, but the work is finally completed to our satisfaction. This is my copy, written in Elrond’s own hand,” he said proudly.

“May I read it?” asked Legolas, his eyes bright with anticipation as he held the book with new found reverence.

“Of course. You will note that there are several chapters about Elendil and his Men that you might find to be of great interest, he is after all, Aragorn’s forefather,” said Thranduil, his suggestion telling Legolas that his friendship with the Man at last met with his Adar’s approval.

******

“We hatesess pretty Elvesess…do not leave usss here...” pleaded Gollum in his grating voice.

“I do not understand how you could bear that intolerable noise,” Tathar said to Aragorn as he and Legolas lead the Ranger and his captive to the dungeon that was to be the creature’s home.

“I have learned to ignore it, and considering how far from the Hall this dungeon is, I doubt it will bother even elvish ears,” he replied as he pushed the unwilling Gollum into the cell and locked the door.

“We hatess the dark, preciousss... yesss we do...” Aragorn ignored the mournful plea and advised his friends to go likewise.

“The creature can not be trusted, he is a servant of Sauron,” he said with disgust. “He spent the last five hundred years in the bowels of Moria, so I would not heed his claim that he fears the dark.” Legolas felt a measure of pity for the creature that had been so poorly used by the Dark Lord, and he found it difficult to believe Aragorn’s claim about the darkness, he knew he certainly would die if kept away from sunlight and starlight for too long. Tathar easily read his thoughts and spoke firmly.

“He is not an Elf, and will remain confined. We will provide him with food and water,” Tathar assured Aragorn. “Is that not so, Legolas?” he asked pointedly directing his words to his friend.

“Ai, as the King has decreed,” replied Legolas sadly.

Aragorn stayed a few days, and was pleased with the dedication of the Elves to the task most found distasteful. He had expected nothing less and left feeling reassured that at least one problem was well solved.

Unfortunately, the compassionate nature of the Elves won the battle with their common sense, and Legolas was asked to approach Thranduil with a petition to allow Gollum the limited freedom of a day in one of the more isolated trees. The King had faith in his people, and agreed to the request. For several weeks nothing untoward happened, and aside from his constant whining, and insults to all things Elvish, Gollum proved to be no more than a burden to be borne.

Thranduil rued the day he had allowed the creature into his forest when, after a fierce and totally unexpected Orc attack, the creature escaped. The cost to the Elves was high and several of their numbers were lost to Mandos’ Halls. Legolas blamed himself totally for the incident, and whilst Thranduil could not deny some fault on his son’s part, it was mainly an overabundance of compassion that was his downfall. Most of the blame lay squarely on the King’s shoulders for it was his decisions that lead to the creature being there in the first place, but even more disturbing was the recognition that some outside force had assisted on Gollum’s escape. Thranduil labelled himself a fool for being blind to the likelihood that Sauron would send spies into Mirkwood, sparing no effort in his attempt to retrieving the One Ring. Extra guards were set accordingly, and patrols moved closer to the inhabited areas in case of further attacks.

“You sent for me, Adar?’ asked a distraught Legolas. Thranduil drew his son into a comforting embrace.

“Do not feel guilty, Legolas. As you have learned over the years, the ultimate responsibility for all that occurs under my rule lies with me,” he whispered, kissing his son’s brow. “Now I need you to go to Imladris and inform the wizard and Elrond of this incident. Take Tathar and your patrol, and ride swiftly. The sooner Mithrandir hears our ill news, the sooner amends can be made,” he said his eyes filled with concern for their safety. “And Legolas, while you are there, you may like to ask Elrond to show you the copy of the book I made for him… “

“Your brow is creased with worry, mellon nin. Did your news of Gollum’s disappearance not sit well with the Council?” asked Tathar as Legolas joined his Mirkwood friends for the noon meal.

“Surely you jest Tathar! How could it be anything but poorly received?” Legolas stared incredulously at his friend who simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Nay, my tale was difficult in the telling, but I admit to being somewhat relieved that Mithrandir had already heard of it from Gwaihir. Whilst he and Aragorn were none too pleased, the Istar merely suggested that perhaps the creature had some part to play in the future that has not yet been foreseen. I am afraid that my ill news was of little import compared to that of the others and it is that which worries me. There is treachery in Isengard, the One Ring has been found and Sauron is making ready to wage war. He has threatened the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, and will likely look to Mirkwood next,” he said as he idly picked at the plate of food before him.

“So when do we return?” asked Tathar not needing to be told of his friend’s intentions. Legolas was not the only Wood Elf fiercely loyal to his forest home.

“As soon as possible for I have much to report to Adar and we need to prepare for the dark times ahead,” Legolas said, unable to prevent the shiver in his blood at the mention of the evil that was slowly engulfing their world. “I will speak to Lord Elrond as soon as possible and inform him that we will be gone with the first light of dawn.”

“Lord Elrond, may I have a word?” asked Legolas. The Lord of Imladris nodded and indicated for the younger Elf to sit beside him on the stone bench. They were in one of the more secluded gardens of Imladris, Legolas having enquired of Aragorn where he might find the Lore master.

“It is very beautiful here, and the music of the waterfalls is very soothing,” said Legolas suddenly unsure as to how Elrond would react to his leaving so soon. He did not know the elder Elf well but he sensed that Elrond had plans for him, although he had no idea what they may be.

“So it is, but you did not seek me out to speak of the beauty of nature. You wish to take your leave and return to Mirkwood.” It was a statement, not a question and Legolas wondered how his thoughts were so easily read. “I know you better than you think, young Thranduilion, you are very much like your sire,” replied Elrond, with an amused twinkle in his eye as he answered the unvoiced question.

“So it would seem, and I assume you must also know that I need to take word to Adar of the threat we now face,” he explained with a smile and a resigned shake of his head.

“Of course, but I have a request to make of you… several, in fact. I have written a full report for Thranduil for you deliver, and I ask that you use the journey home to scout the mountain pass and the land beyond for any sign of Orc activity or any creatures that may be acting as spies for the dark Lord.”

“Indeed and to that end I am sending scouting parties in all directions. Aragorn is preparing to leave with my sons as we speak,” Elrond informed the young archer, well aware of the friendship between the two.

“My patrol will make a thorough search, and I will bring word of what we do or do not find,” promised Legolas.

“Good, I would prefer to hear your report in person, if possible,” Elrond told him.

“It is not an errand, but a decision you need to make. I intend to send representatives of all the Free People on this quest to destroy the Ring, and for the Elves I would send you, if you are willing,” Elrond replied. Legolas was momentarily stunned into silence.

“I do not think I can do as you ask, I am needed in Mirkwood,” protested Legolas.

“I realise such a decision is difficult, for there is no denying the danger and uncertainty of such a task and I do not expect an immediate reply. I think it best you discuss this with Thranduil before you give your final answer,” Elrond suggested.

“The reasons are many and I have explained them in full in my letter to your Adar. Suffice it to say that you are a skilled archer, an experienced warrior and have fought a never ending battle with the dark creatures of your forest. Although you have learned to keep the darkness at bay, you are one of the few who can sense it easily, and combined with your elven senses, this will be an enormous asset to the group. Aside from that you have such a gentle and compassionate heart that I believe the Hobbits will be at ease in your presence.”

“I am honoured that you have so much faith in my abilities, my lord. I will speak to my adar then I will return to bring you the report of the scouting mission, as well as my answer.”

“Take time to consider your choice Legolas but do not forget the urgency,” Elrond advised him.

“Ai, he already has the trust of the Hobbits, and whether he accepts it or not, it is ultimately his responsibility to ensure the safety of his Kingdom,” replied Elrond.

“It is only fitting that Isildur’s heir attempt to undo the damage wrought by his forefather,” agreed the Mirkwood prince.

“Just so. Please come to my study before the evening meal to collect the letter for Thranduil,” said Elrond as he saw Glorfindel standing at a distance, signalling that his presence was required elsewhere.

Legolas knocked on the thick wooden door, but received no reply so he knocked a little harder, and was startled when he heard a voice from behind bid him enter.

“Nay, there was a slight mishap that needed my attention,” Elrond said, the smile in his eyes inconsistent with the compassionate healer he was known to be. “Someone with blonde hair, and who should have far more sense for one as ancient as he, carelessly left a bucket of water above Erestor’s door, and my dear advisor received a nasty cut on his forehead when it landed on him,” he explained.

“I see,” replied Legolas unable to stifle a laugh at Glorfindel’s latest ‘attack’ on Erestor.

“Here is the letter,” said Elrond as he handed Legolas a large leather pouch.

“Are you sure it is not a book?” the younger Elf asked facetiously as he felt the weight in his hands.

“There was much news to impart, and I did so in great detail,” replied Elrond with mock indignation. “However, speaking of books, I have one here that may interest you.”

Legolas saw that it was of the same size and bound with the same coloured leather as the one his Adar had received from Elrond. The only difference was that a single line of mithril stars formed the border rather than golden leaves. He opened to the title page, and saw that it was written in Thranduil’s’ elegant hand. He traced his Adar’s name and smiled affectionately.

“This is just as beautiful as the one Adar has,” he said as he handed the book back to Elrond. “I had no idea he was working on such a project, and Elladan and Elrohir made no mention of you doing likewise.”

“That is because we preferred to keep it between ourselves until it was complete,” said Elrond. “Have you read any of it yet?”

“I have already heard much of the role of the Greenwood Elves during the war, so I began reading about Elendil,” Legolas replied, the mention of Men reminding him he had a question he wanted to ask of Elrond. “May I ask a personal question, Lord Elrond?”

“By all means, what do you wish to know?” replied the Lore Master, his curiosity piqued by the formality.

“You have allowed many of Aragorn’s forefathers to seek sanctuary here, and I assume you befriended some of them, so how did you deal with the knowledge that they would grow old and die before your eyes?” He hoped the question was not too bold, and was relieved to see the Elf lord nodding knowingly.

“Ai, I have had mortal friends over the years, and although their eventual passing comes as no surprise, the grief ever remains. You are concerned about befriending Aragorn, are you not?” Elrond surmised.

“I know. All I can advise is that you do not allow what you know will come to pass to cast a shadow over what you have now. Do not hide your heart away behind a fear of grief.”

“Thank you for your words, and your honesty, my lord,” Legolas said with a respectful bow.

The separate guest chambers that had been assigned to Legolas and Tathar shared a large terrace from which they could almost reach out and touch one of the smaller waterfalls that cascaded into the valley below, and it was here later that evening that they and the other members of the patrol met to discuss the task they had been set. All were well aware of the important nature of their mission, but as was their usual habit, there was much merriment and jesting as well as serious conversation. A casual observer would simply have assumed the elven warriors sitting in a circle on the floor with their map spread out in the centre merely were enjoying each other’s company, and the excellent wine their Prince had provided rather than planning the shortest path they could safely take back to Mirkwood, whilst still allowing them to make short scouting trips into suspected danger areas.

Legolas only half listened to the playful banter yet none other than Tathar seemed to notice his preoccupation.

“What is it, mellon nin?’ he asked, placing an affectionate hand on Legolas’s shoulder after the others had bid them goodnight.

“Has Elrond told you more than you have passed onto us?” asked Tathar. Legolas groaned inwardly at his friend’s astute observation and did not want to lie to him, but he felt it only fair that his Adar be the first to hear of the possibility of his son joining the Fellowship.

“I see I can hide nothing from you, mellon nin yet as much as I wish to, I can not share this problem with you at the moment,” he said apologetically, his heart aching at the hurt in his friend’s eyes.

“We have never kept secrets from each other… ever,” stated Tathar irritably.

“Nor do I wish to start doing so. Once I have discussed the issue with Adar, I promise to tell you all about it,” Legolas vowed, holding his arms out to offer his friend a brotherly embrace, which after a moment’s hesitation Tathar accepted.

The Mirkwood Elves rode swiftly through the forest, eager to be reunited with their loved ones. They had not encountered any Orcs, wolves or other fell creatures on the journey home, and all had begun to wonder if Mirkwood was already under attack. Legolas tried to reassure them that all was well, for he sensed it to be so, but the fear of the possibility clouded their judgment and it was not until they rode across the bridge that they allowed themselves to breath easy.

Legolas knew that Thranduil would be waiting for him in his chambers, for he had sent word of his return with one of the sentries the travellers had encountered along the Elf Path. Greeting his son with his usual strong embrace and affectionate kiss to the brow, Thranduil immediately sensed the disquiet in Legolas’s thoughts.

“I take it that Mithrandir was not pleased with your news?” he asked, assuming that to be the cause.

“He already knew,” Legolas answered smiling at the surprise that registered on Thranduil’s brow. “I believe this letter from Lord Elrond will explain it all,” he added as he handed the King the thick leather pouch. Legolas watched the changing emotions that danced across his Adar’s face as he carefully read each page of the long missive, and when he saw his countenance darken and his eyes flash with anger, he knew he had reached the part about the Fellowship.

“I will not allow my son to take part in this folly, Elrond!” Thranduil thundered in a voice so loud Legolas almost believed Elrond could hear it in Imladris. “I trust you declined this… this… invitation to travel to your death!” he said with sarcasm dripping off the last words.

“I made no answer, for I wished to discuss the matter with you first,” replied Legolas quietly, deeming it best to ignore his Adar’s initial anger.

“There is nothing to discuss. You are needed here,” said Thranduil in the tone of voice that brooked no challenge, or had not done so until now. Legolas realised he could rightly point out that he faced death every time he went on patrol, but saw no need to remind the King of that which he knew so well. He donned his rarely displayed royal persona and spoke from his heart instead.

“That is my beloved Adar speaking. What does the warrior King, who knows full well that no one is safe until the One Ring is destroyed, say?” he asked, reaching up to gently stroke Thranduil’s cheek. Thranduil was shocked into silence by the sudden appearance of one who had ruled in his stead on several occasions and by the tender wisdom in his son’s words. Legolas could see the inner turmoil in the depths of the eyes that were locked with his, and he remained unmoving and silent as Adar and King fought their wordless battle. Finally Thranduil released a long, sad sigh and gathered Legolas into his arms.

“The King can not deny the wisdom of the Prince’s words, nor the advice of his friend of old who was once the Herald to the High King. I am proud to admit that the Fellowship needs you, and although it breaks my heart to say this, more than does Mirkwood. Go with the blessing of the King, and the love of your Adar,” said Thranduil as he buried his head into the silky golden tresses resting on his shoulder and wept.

Tathar listened as Legolas finally told him of the quest, and his reaction was pure anger of a depth that Legolas had rarely seen before, and directed not at Elrond or him, but at Thranduil.

“How can an adar risk his son’s life by sending him into such danger?” he shouted angrily, glaring at Legolas with tear filled eyes. Legolas felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart as realisation suddenly dawned… it was his pain and grief over the loss of Faelas that was fuelling Tathar’s anger.

“I know it is a dangerous road to take, but do you really think my life is at any more risk should I follow that course than it is when I defend Mirkwood?” Legolas asked.

“Perhaps not, although you will be travelling through places where the dangers are unfamiliar and that is a disadvantage,” Tathar said, his disapproval still evident in his tone of voice.

“Aragorn has spent many years in the south, and Mithrandir’s visits there are too numerous to count, as I am informed,” explained Legolas.

“That eases my fears a little. I am sorry if I am reacting badly Legolas, it is just that I can not bear the thought of losing someone I love as a brother… I have lost too many dear ones already,” replied Tathar his shoulders slumping as his melancholy welled in his heart.

“So has Adar,” Legolas sadly reminded his friend as he placed his arm affectionately around his shoulders and softly kissed his hair. “Anyway, I believe I am a becoming offended by your lack of confidence in my skills and my ability to defend myself,” he added lightly in an attempt to ease the tension.

“Well they have never been as good as mine,” declared Tathar, forcing a smile.

“Would you care to meet me in the exercise yard where we can resolve the question in the proper manner?” challenged Legolas.

“It would be my pleasure to have a chance to beat some sense into your beautiful, if not thick head,” replied Tathar laughing heartily as he linked arms with his friend and lead him to his doom.

On their way to the clearing where the warriors trained, they stopped by the kitchens to collect a couple of water skins and watched with amusement as Tariel issued orders as if she was the Captain of the Guard.

“What is all the fuss?” asked Tathar as he helped himself to a freshly baked roll. Tariel’s scowl at the minor theft turned into a warm smile when Tathar kissed her cheek.

“The King has ordered a farewell feast for our brave young warrior prince,” she told them. “He wants you to leave the darkness behind and take with you only the memory of the sounds of laughter and music as your people make merry under the stars. A most sensible plan, if I do say so myself,” she added with a wink.

Some time the next day, Legolas left Mirkwood to return to Imladris and an unknown future with many pleasant memories to comfort him on his journey.

Tathar and the King’s Guard had been ordered to escort Legolas back to Imladris and the young warrior decided to use their time together on the journey to make one last attempt to dissuade Legolas from his chosen path. It was a task that was doomed to failure for Legolas would not be swayed and all Tathar succeeded in doing was to drive a wedge between them. Legolas’s stubborn refusal to listen eventually angered him so much that Tathar made the mistake of accusing the son of having no feelings for the heartache he was causing his Adar.

After declaring that he had no intention of breaking the vows they had made after Faelas had died, even if Tathar did, Legolas had stormed off in anger, leaving a distraught Elf, stunned by the words that tore open his grieving heart, sitting alone by the fire. It had taken several days before they would even look at each other let alone speak, and there was so much animosity in the air that the Guards of the escort kept a watchful eye on the pair from a discrete distance, ever ready to intervene if the rift became too heated.

In the end it was the strength of their love and friendship that drew them back together, for neither could bear to see the other in so much pain. They first used words to heal the hurts they had inflicted and then they had spent the night sharing a bed roll as brothers might; talking and crying and finally laughing. By morning Tathar had agreed to fully support Legolas’s decision and to do what he could to ease Thranduil’s fear for his son. The prince in turn agreed to write a farewell letter to Thranduil that he was promised the King would only see if Legolas entered the Halls of Waiting.

Tathar lay sprawled across the bed in Legolas’s chamber, propping himself up on his elbows, an open the copy of “The Last Alliance” that Elrond had thoughtfully left on the bedside table for Legolas, in his hands. He had chosen to wait here while his friend made his report on orc activity to Lord Elrond, and accepted his place in the Fellowship. When Legolas finally entered the room, he at first did not believe his friend was actually reading, but after several unsuccessful attempts to gain his attention, he had to admit that Tathar was thoroughly absorbed in the book.

“There is no need to shout, Legolas. What do you want?” he demanded irritably, not because of the loud voice in his ear but because he had been startled into dropping the book, hence losing his place.

“Very well, but you interrupted me when I was reading a really fascinating part,” he said sullenly.

“I admit to beginning to wonder whether you had forgotten how to read, but apparently you can, and I am pleased you have finally decided to broaden your knowledge of history,” the prince teased.

“You should be grateful that I am, for I now understand your reasons for being on the quest so much better,” he said as he flicked through the pages until he found the page dealing with Oropher agreeing to the need for a united stand against Sauron that he had been reading and marked the place with a dried leaf that had floated into the room on the soft breeze. “I take it Lord Elrond was happy with your decision?” he asked now giving Legolas his full attention.

“Ai, but you will never believe who he has chosen to represent the Dwarves,” he paused for effect. “Gimli, son of Glóin!” Tathar burst into laughter.

“That is priceless, is it not? The sons of two who have a somewhat unpleasant history are now to be comrades in arms. I did not realise Lord Elrond had such a sense of humour,” he said as he continued to laugh uncontrollably.

“Surely you are not suggesting he chose that particular Dwarf to be part of such an important quest just to spite Adar?” Legolas was wide eyed with disbelief.

“Nay, I am certain the son of Glóin has been deemed the most suitable of his folk to accompany you… it is just a very amusing coincidence,” said Tathar with a serious edge to his voice.

“Amusing?” enquired Legolas incredulously, not impressed with the thought of travelling with the Dwarf. “Do you also find this amusing?” he asked as, with a wicked grin and his usual deadly aim, he threw a pillow that collided squarely with Tathar’s smiling face. With a swift movement, he easily ducked the pillow that came his way in retaliation and the silent challenge was accepted. Allowing a brief truce until Tathar had carefully put the precious tome out of harm’s way, the War of the Pillows then raged furiously until both warriors collapsed in a laughing heap on the bed.

“I believe we could both use some rest,” a breathless Legolas told Tathar as he plucked a stray feather from his friend’s hair.

“Indeed I am quite weary now and we are leaving for Mirkwood tomorrow after the noon meal. Would you mind if I borrowed the book on the off chance that sleep eludes me this night?” Tathar asked almost timidly.

“Not at all,” replied Legolas with a smirk that spoke eloquently of his delight in taunting his friend over his new found interest. Tathar picked up the volume and stopped halfway through the arch that led to their shared terrace, gazing sadly at his young companion for a moment longer, and then he was gone.

As he readied himself for bed, Legolas realised that he had not yet written the letter to Thranduil as ha had promised. He cast a longing look at the mussed sheets and the scattered pillows, then lit the candle at the desk and sat down to write.

Tathar has promised to give you this letter should I pass into the Halls of Waiting, and since you are reading it, I must have done so. I am sorry to leave you this way; I can only hope I died bravely and that you are as proud of me as I am to be your son.

I know it is pointless to ask you not to grieve, and even now my eyes fill with tears at the thought of the pain reading this must be causing you, but I wanted to make certain you know that I realise how much you love me and how deeply bound we are in spirit. Cry for me, grieve for me, but I beg of you do not allow yourself to fade… do not make my death a vain sacrifice.

I have not the words to tell you how much I love both you and Nana, and I hope that you will be reunited one day… please consider sailing West for I believe you will find happiness there just as Nana has. If you do, please give this letter to her so that she also knows how much I cherish you both.

I love you dearly Adar. Those words are so easy to write but I am sorry, I find I do not have the strength in my heart to tell you goodbye…I do not wish to leave you.

Tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes, blurring his vision as he placed the letter in the envelope and he fervently begged the Valar that the seal would never need be broken.

The mood was sombre the next day as the Mirkwood Elves readied themselves for the trip home. In honour of his Adar, and to the delight of the King’s Guard, Legolas chose to bid them farewell wearing his formal robes and his circlet of office. They bowed respectfully to the Prince, and then moved away so that he and Tathar could have a last moment together.

“When do you leave on the quest?” Tathar knew this would be the first question Thranduil would ask him when he arrived back in Mirkwood.

“As soon as Elrond’s sons return, they are expected within the next few weeks,” replied Legolas his eyes bright with tears as the moment of final separation was upon him.

“As I will miss you, mellon nin,” whispered Legolas. “Here is the letter and please take care of Adar for me,” he said, handing the ivory coloured envelope to his friend. Tathar nodded his understanding.

“I will, though it may drive him to distraction… which might be a good idea, all things considered,” he said grinning wickedly. Legolas managed a half smile and Tathar swiftly became more serious as he sensed his friend was not in the mood for jesting. “It will give me great pleasure to help you burn this on your return to Mirkwood, my dear Legolas,” he said embracing the younger Elf fiercely for a brief moment then quickly releasing him, leaving the warmth of a chaste kiss on his cheek. “May the Valar send you back to us soon.”

Legolas had never felt more alone as he watched his friends until they rode across the bridge and disappeared out of sight.

To fill the void in both his life and the defence of Mirkwood left by the departure of his son, Thranduil decided it was time for him to pursue a more active role in the protection of his realm. He listened patiently to the storm of protests from his captains and, out of respect for their unnecessary but gratifying fears for his safety and the possible repercussions should he be badly injured or worse, he agreed to limit his involvement to accompanying his general on routine tours of the border patrols.

Even though the party travelled on horseback, the journey to the outlying posts lasted several weeks and during that time Thranduil developed an easy camaraderie with his Elves, somewhat reminiscent of the years he spent as leader of the Greenwood army at the gates of Mordor. Similarly, the appearance of their King, dressed in the simple brown and green uniform of the border patrols provided a significant morale boost for the warriors who rarely had the chance to return to the King’s Halls.

On several occasions it was necessary to defend themselves against the Dark Lord’s minions and whenever they encountered spiders or a stray band of Orcs, Thranduil could not help but take great delight in the ensuing skirmish. His eyes glittered with feral pride and his sword sang through the air as he removed some of the evil with his own hands and it seemed the more Orc blood that he was forced to wash from his golden hair and pale skin, the better he liked it. Their King was a fearsome warrior and after watching him fight, the Elves of Mirkwood were pleased that such a formidable opponent was on their side.

Knowing that their King was well used to the comforts of his palace, it came as a pleasant surprise when he allowed no special concessions to his rank and actually enjoyed taking his turn in the daily tasks such as preparing the evening meal or standing the midnight watch. The one thing Thranduil could only barely tolerate, however, was the bathing arrangements. The lack of privacy as he and his warriors plunged into a pool or stream to rid their bodies of the aftermath of battle did not concern him, for he knew that there was no room for modesty on a border patrol. What he really could not become accustomed to was the coolness of the water. Despite the fact that Elves were not affected by extremes in temperature, Thranduil nonetheless preferred to immerse himself in hot, herbal scented water.

To the well concealed amusement of all, the first place the King visited when he returned to the palace was always his private bathing chamber and the luxury of a steaming hot bath to soothe aches and pains in muscles that had remain unused for so long. Tathar had casually suggested that perhaps it was not the sword fighting that was the cause, since the King often sparred with his warriors, but the long hours spent in the saddle. Thranduil had glared him into silence, then feigned insult but instead of berating the younger Elf for his disrespect, the elder had laughed heartily for the first time since he received word that the Fellowship had left Imladris.

So it was this day, as news of the imminent arrival of the King’s patrol reached his Hall, there was a flurry of activity to ensure their Sire’s bath was ready for its occupant. Candles were lit, fresh towels and the luxuriously thick bathing robe that was one of a matching pair that Legolas had asked one of the seamstresses make especially for them both, was placed on the wooden bench. A smattering of the King’s favourite herbs were added to the water and soon the room was filled with a pleasant and soothing aroma and then all was in readiness.

Thranduil quickly removed his dirt and blood stained clothes and sank blissfully into the warmth, sighing with contentment as he felt his muscles begin to relax. He laid his head against one end of the long, wide tub he had built himself, and simply allowed the waters to massage his skin. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind the better to enjoy the sensation.

He had barely begun to relax when the soft voice whispered to him, and he opened his eyes, startled as he recognised the one who called. He did not believe Galadriel was in his bathing chamber, and he heard silvery laughter that reflected his own as he admonished himself for his foolishness. The Lady of the Wood was attempting to contact him; her gentle voice was speaking in his mind.

Although he possessed the ability to far speak, he rarely ever indulged in it, and when he did it was only Elrond with whom he spoke. His astonishment gave way to embarrassment as he realised where he was and he suddenly felt decidedly uncomfortable to be sharing his bath with Celeborn’s wife. More silvery laughter sang his mind, but faded rapidly as he sensed Galadriel retreat to allow him a few moments of privacy to dress. He moved into his bedchamber and settled himself comfortably in his armchair and opened his mind once more.

“Legolas and his companions are resting safely in Lothlorien,” she told him with a hint of sadness. “But his heart grieves as does Lothlorien, for Mithrandir fell in Moria, defending them from a Balrog.”

Thranduil could not repress a shudder at the mention of so evil a creature, but his heart filled too with sorrow for the loss of the irascible wizard of whom he was very fond. He wished that he could be there to help his son grieve, but was relieved when Galadriel silently reassured him that his distant kin would do so in his stead.

“Nay. Aragorn has much left to do and will now take over the leadership. Celeborn asks me to warn you that there a new breed of Orc has been seen on the eastern shores of the Anduin… one that seems much stronger, and is unhindered by daylight. You would do well to be on your guard.”

“That is disturbing news. I think it likely that Dol Guldur will attack in force in the near future. I fear we are swiftly headed towards another war,” said Thranduil.

“As does Celeborn, but neither the Elves of Lothlórien nor the once mighty Greenwood will ever allow Sauron to prevail,” she said with utter confidence. “Your son sends his love; do you have a message for him?”

“Tell him all is well here, and that Tathar is as annoying as ever. He knows he has my love, but remind him anyway,” he added.

He felt the soft touch of silken lips on his cheek as Galadriel bid a wordless farewell, and he opened his eyes only to find Tathar string at him with more than a little concern. Tariel had sent him to the King’s chamber with a tray of fresh fruit and cheeses to serve as light refreshment, and he had entered the chamber believing it empty after his knocks on the door were not answered.

“You seemed lost to the world, where were you, Sire?” he asked worriedly. Thranduil was touched by the affection evident in the young Elf’s concern, and wondered not for the first time whether Legolas had charged Tathar with seeing to his well being.

“Far speaking with Galadriel. Legolas and the others are currently in Lothlorien,” said Thranduil with a smile of happiness that did not reach his eyes. His heart was heavy at the news of the Orcs, but he could not deny the joy he felt at being reassured his son was unharmed.

“I am relieved to hear that news,” said Tathar as he set the tray on the small table between the armchairs. Thranduil declined the meal with a shake of his head.

“Help you,” he said, indicating the tray. “There is s bottle of wine in the side cupboard, pour us both a glass while I finish my bath. Tathar did as asked, then walked through the doorway that led to the bathing chamber holding two cups in his hands.

“Does Legolas also have the ability to far speak?” He asked as Thranduil, once again immersed in the soothing water, accepted the wine.

“My dear young Tathar, do you think he would not have already contacted you or me if that were the case?” observed Thranduil with a twinkle of amusement in his eye as he added. “Your report on my ‘activities’ will have to wait until he returns.”

These last words stunned Tathar. Apparently the King was well aware that he was being ‘taken care of’. Although it had not been his place to comment on the King’s plans, Tathar had dared his wrath and strongly voiced his opposition to the border patrols, he had even gone so far as to ask Tariel to use her friendship with Thranduil to influence him to change his mind. In her wisdom, she had refused to even entertain such a notion, believing as she did that the trips were exactly what Thranduil and indeed Mirkwood needed, and had instead warned Tathar to mind his place.

“I am merely doing as Legolas asked, as he would do himself were he here,” he said defensively, sensing Thranduil was not entirely pleased with the situation.

“I know that you both act of love, for me as well as each other and I find great joy in that but if Legolas were here right now, he would be busily washing my hair for me,” replied Thranduil with one eyebrow raised in query. Tathar took the hint.

Chapter 27 Mirkwood Invaded

The tinkling sound of glass shattering on the stone tiles of the dining hall stunned everyone into silence. The look of horror on Thranduil’s face was not a result of the goblet falling from his hand; it was born when unseeing eyes turned southwards as Galadriel’s scream of rage filled his mind.

“Beware Oropherion; Dol Guldur dares to attack Lothlórien. Mirkwood will be next.”

The warning was brief, and although he had expected this day to come, he felt as if its arrival was far too sudden.

“What is it, Sire? ” asked his concerned Steward, mistakenly judging by the glazed look in the King’s eyes that he was farspeaking with Elrond, as he had seen him do in the past. Thranduil felt the gentle touch on his arm and quickly regained his focus and looked around at the many worried faces.

“Lothlórien is under attack!” he declared loud enough for all to hear. There was a collective gasp at the shocking news followed by much murmuring among those in the dining hall, and all eyes turned to their King.

“Have no fear, Sauron will not take the Golden Wood, nor will we allow him victory over Greenwood the Great.” His deliberate use of their forest’s true name, spoken with the full force of his power and majesty reassured everyone, and they cheered loudly. Following Thranduil’s example, the meal was resumed and soon the hall was again filled with laughter and chatter, albeit somewhat more subdued. The King spoke quietly with his general and asked him to have the captains meet him later in his library. It was time to discuss battle plans.

An air of uneasiness settled over Mirkwood, but the Elves remained calm in the face of their fears as they began preparations to defend their home. The telain where most of them had chosen to live were abandoned in favour of the safe haven of the underground dwellings that formed part of the palace, and riders were sent to the outer patrols to warn them of the imminent danger and to instruct them to move to reinforce the southern borders. Tathar had insisted on being one of the messengers, and it was with a heavy heart that Thranduil watched him go for he was reminded of his son’s absence. His heart told him that Legolas was alive and well, but he was very far from home and Thranduil could not help but wish that his son was back in Mirkwood preparing to fight by his Adar’s side as many others were also doing.

Although he had regretted the fact in the past, he was grateful now that there were no longer any Elves under the age of majority in Mirkwood. All who lived here were well able to defend themselves, for he had insisted that both males and females were trained in archery or swordsmanship. A small smile curve the corners of his mouth as he recalled Tathar teasing Legolas that all the maidens chose to learn archery merely to be close to the prince, who had undertaken the task of tutoring those not destined to become warriors. Legolas had scoffed at the notion, replying that his Adar, who took charge of the lessons when Legolas was away on patrol, was far more likely the cause of the interest in the bow.

For all his outward certainty, the King could not help but think that it was likely the Elves were severely outnumbered by the dark forces from the south. There would be many lives lost in battle and this worry caused sleep to elude him. He knew that he needed to take some rest and that it was necessary that he be fully alert when war came, and so after three days without slumber, he added a small amount of the sleeping draught that Elrond had given him to his wine, and quickly fell into reverie. The potion prevented his nightmares of Dagorlad from haunting his rest, but he woke with a puzzled frown as he could almost taste the smoke and ash that was the last remnant of Sauron on that battlefield. With growing alarm he realised there was an unmistakeable scent of smoke in the air, and a thin finger of pain tore into his heart. He did not even have the chance to rise from his bed before a distraught Tathar, his fair hair, face and clothes covered in black, grimy soot burst into his chambers.

“The forest is on fire!” he declared in wide-eyed terror.

“Tell me what you saw,” the King instructed Tathar as he quickly donned his warrior’s garb and armed himself with both bow and sword.

“I was with the southernmost patrol when we saw a few Orcs approaching, and assumed them to be merely scouts. Naturally we moved to deal with them, but whilst we occupied in the battle, several managed to climb the trees and set them alight. It was a strange kind of fire, one that seemed to pass rapidly from tree to tree on little more that a wisp of air,” he said as tears filled his eyes. “We were filled with despair as the trees cried out in pain but knew there was nothing we could do to stop the fire spreading. I was forced to leave the patrol to bring warning,” said Tathar, slumping onto the edge of the bed in exhaustion. Thranduil now recognised his pain for what it was… the loss of his beloved trees and he closed his eyes and offered a silent lament. He placed a comforting hand on the younger Elf’s shoulder and offered him a cup of water to settle his nerves. Tathar drank thirstily, and then at Thranduil’s silent command, he followed him to meet with the general and his captains. Several more riders had made their way back and offered similar reports to Tathar’s, the last one adding an even more unwelcome piece of news.

“The orcs are apparently unaffected by the thick smoke and are using it as a cover to move unseen into our midst,” reported the rider.

“It seems I have gravely underestimated the Dark One, this is not the kind of attack I expected,” admitted Thranduil, suddenly wondering whether the flames were assisted by some kind of dark spell. He actually hoped this was the case, for although he could not save the outer reaches of the forest, no dark magic could penetrate the heart of his realm. He would not allow it to do so.

“None of us could foresee such an atrocity. No Elf would ever consider using the trees as a weapon,” said the General.

“Nay, we would not, although we did plan on using the trees to hide our archers. This can no longer be done, at least outside the circle of my protection. Send word to move them back away from the danger of the fires, and replace them with our swordsman,” he told his captains all of whom were nodding agreement with the necessary change in plans. His general was the only one to look a bit dubious and not entirely comfortable with allowing the Orcs to approach so closely. Thranduil spared him a tight smile.

“It is our only choice, mellon nin. Sauron may not be as clever as he thinks. By forcing us to concentrate our forces we stand a much better chance of defeating his minions. Once we have done so, we will reclaim our borders,” he reassured the warrior who had fought beside Oropher at Dagorlad.

*******

Thranduil’s words proved to be true, and after the fierce battle had ended, the only smoke hanging over Mirkwood was that of the fires that had been lit to burn the corpses of the enemy. In the aftermath of battle, sweet, sad laments were sung for the Elven dead, and none could keep the tears from their eyes when the trees that remained added a soft rustling melody of their own.

Lothlórien had been attacked again as the battle under the trees of Mirkwood raged, but after repelling the forces of Sauron for third time, Celeborn and Galadriel led the Galadhrim across the Anduin, and attacked the dark fortress of Dol Guldur.

This time when Galadriel’s sweet voice filled his mind, it was a joyous cry of victory.

Chapter 28 The Return Home

Once again the trees of Mirkwood, now known as Eryn Lasgalen, whispered a song of welcome for one of the returning children of starlight. As he walked slowly on his way towards his home, Legolas listened sadly to the slightly discordant melody, its sweetness marred by the many missing voices that had been lost during the war. As the forest fell silent, Legolas softly raised his voice in return, but although he tried to sing only of happiness, part of him longed to be elsewhere. The lure of the sea now veiled his heart and he no longer felt fully content among the trees. His song finished with a melancholy sigh for what he knew he had lost.

A heartbeat later the forest was filled with merry laughter and shouts of welcome as Tathar and any other Elf who had heard their Prince’s arrival surrounded him, forcing him to stop and exchange kisses, embraces and words of welcome. Legolas was overwhelmed with the enthusiasm with which he was greeted, and feared he would drown in the sea of love until he was rescued by the one he wished to see more than anyone else.

“Adar!” he shouted joyfully as he was swept up into strong arms and twirled around as if he was still a very young Elf.

“My Legolas!” replied Thranduil as he bestowed kisses on the beloved face whose eyes were as bright with unshed tears as his own. Thranduil held his son at arm’s length for a moment, and satisfied he has suffering no injury, drew him back into the warmth of his embrace. Legolas rested his head against Thranduil’s shoulder and exchanged an affectionate glance with Tathar, who winked mischievously.

“Legolas, I am pleased to see you return, for I found having to take care of your Adar to be a rather trying task, at times. You would be most distressed at some of the tales I could tell,” he said unsuccessfully keeping a serious tone of voice. Thranduil raised an eyebrow at the remark, and responded in kind.

“My son, the next time you decide to leave on an adventure, I demand you take Tathar with you. It seems you are the only one who can control him,” he declared facetiously.

Legolas started slightly at his Adar’s words, for he already planned to do exactly as he the King demanded. He had promised Aragorn that he would return and help with the restoration of the gardens of Minas Tirith and the forest of Ithilien, and he fully intended that Tathar should join him. Both his Adar and his friend sensed Legolas’s fleeting change to a more sombre demeanour, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“I promise, Adar,” he replied meekly before allowing his amusement to turn into silvery laughter. “Is there to be a feast tonight? I have missed our merrymaking under the stars,” he told Thranduil whose delighted laughter echoed through the trees.

“Do you suppose that the King would let such an occasion pass without preparing a celebration?” Tariel asked as she pried Legolas loose from Thranduil’s possessive arms and lovingly embraced the young Elf. “I see your Dwarf friend did not accompany you,” she whispered in his ear, surprising Legolas with her words.

“Nay, Gimli preferred to head straight on to Erebor,” he replied. “I think he was afraid of Adar.” he added conspiratorially. Tariel laughed merrily, nodding her head in understanding. She knew Legolas spoke in jest by the fondness in his voice as he mentioned the Dwarf’s name.

“Come, Legolas. I see our patrols have already begun the merrymaking,” said Tathar as he pointed to the large group of warriors in the clearing where the feast was to be held. All had goblets of wine in their hands, and were raising them in a toast to their prince. Legolas, Tathar and Thranduil joined them, and after he acknowledged the toast, Legolas offered one in return to his friends for their valour in protecting their home against the Dark Lord and the courageous victory they had won.

As the Elves settled into a large circle, some sitting cross legged on the grass while others rested against each other, Legolas was prevailed upon to relate his account of his adventures since leaving Imladris. As he wove his tale the group became even larger until nearly every Elf who resided in the heartland was listening with fascination to the story.

Thranduil sat quietly to one side, hardly daring to take his eyes from his son lest he turned out to be merely a dream. As he listened to Legolas speak of Aragorn, he realised how close his son and the mortal King had become. Even though was prepared to accept the friendship existed, he still did not approve, but he almost choked on his wine when Legolas told of his love and affection for the Dwarf…Glóin’s son, no less. This was a friendship that Thranduil could not even contemplate accepting for he held all Dwarves to be untrustworthy and arrogant. The burst of laughter that followed after Legolas had described the competition in which he and Gimli had engaged, did little to improve his opinion, and he flushed with embarrassment as he heard his son being teased mercilessly, especially by Tathar, for letting the Dwarf win the tally. Legolas had a totally different reaction, and took it all with good humour.

The prince’s interest then turned to the fortunes of his own people and he asked to be told how Mirkwood had fared in his absence. He had been fortunate in that he had already heard of the routing of the remaining minions of Sauron and the division of Greenwood from Celeborn when he arrived for Arwen and Aragorn’s wedding, but he wanted to hear more about the battle that had decimated his beloved forest and taken the lives of many of his comrades.

Finally all tales were told, and Legolas excused himself, declaring that he needed to bathe before he could even contemplate dancing with the fair maidens. The laughter this statement evoked confused him until Tathar pointed out that the bathing chamber was the first place Thranduil visited on his return from the borders.

“Then I am in no better company, if I am to be likened to my Adar,” Legolas replied proudly and sincerely as he stood and offered Thranduil a helping hand to rise. Obviously he wanted some time alone with the King so his son’s assistance was readily accepted, and he linked arms with Legolas as they walked towards the royal apartments.

“Come to my chamber when you have finished your bath, we have much to discuss,” Thranduil told Legolas as he opened the door to his son’s chamber and ushered him inside.

“We can talk while I bathe, Adar,” suggested Legolas, surprised when Thranduil declined.

“Nay, we will meet shortly in my study, as always, but for now I need to speak with Tariel about the feast, and I will organise a tray of refreshments while I am in the kitchen,” he explained. Legolas nodded acceptance and decided to bathe quickly, so eager was he to spend some time with his Adar.

********

Legolas looked about the small study, and was delighted to see it remained exactly as he remembered. He sat back in his armchair, relaxing in the comfortable familiarity and smiled as Thranduil affectionately stroked his cheek as he handed his son a cup of wine before sitting in the chair opposite.

“I would hear the tale of your part in the Fellowship,” said the King. The request came as no surprise, even though Legolas knew his Adar had already heard it this afternoon. The account he gave this time was on a far more personal level, telling of the range of emotions he experienced as events drastically altered the nature of their journey.

Thranduil listened without comment, his heart aching as Legolas told of his grief at the ‘loss’ of Mithrandir, and Boromir’s death. He smiled as the younger Elf spoke of the joy of life displayed by the Hobbits, for he was quite fond of old Bilbo and he was glad that his son had met such courageous members of that folk. His eyes reflected his son’s sorrow as Legolas told of the grievous loss of Gimli’s kin at Moria; of the suffering of the people of Rohan as their King was taken over by Saruman, and the death of so many in the battles he faced, and he felt the young warrior’s hatred of war and all that it entailed.

The King’s face darkened with dread as Legolas spoke of his strong friendships with Aragorn and Gimli, and whilst he did not understand his son’s love for these two, he knew it was not unlike that which he felt for Tathar. Like all Elves, when Legolas chose to love or hate, he did so with every fibre of his heart and soul.

“And what of your strange friendship with the Dwarf? Aragorn I have learned to respect, but you know I can not abide the folk from Erebor,” stated Thranduil candidly.

“Gimli is an honourable and fine warrior. I admit that at times he is a little arrogant, but beneath his gruff exterior beats the heart of a true friend. I ask you not to judge him too harshly until you have at least met him,” urged Legolas.

“If it means so much to you, then I will do as you ask,” agreed Thranduil. He was convinced meeting the Dwarf would not change his opinion of his kind, but he could not refuse such a heartfelt request from his son.

“That is all I ask, but here is one more thing I need to tell you Adar,” he said, gazing directly into Thranduil’s eyes. The King gasped as he recognised the far away longing that once filled Elisiel’s eyes and now shone freely from their son’s.

“You have heard the call of the sea,” he whispered sadly. Legolas nodded then moved to sit at his Adar’s side, resting his head on his knees as he had done whenever he sought comfort as a child.

“Have you come to say farewell?” Thranduil managed to ask as he caressed the golden silk of his son’s hair.

“Nay, I can not leave yet. I made a promise to Aragorn that I would stay until his days were ended, and to that I will hold. I will remain in Arda, but I wish to move to Ithilien, to restore it as much as possible before I take sail,” he said, knowing his words would likely be painful for Thranduil to hear, and wishing it were otherwise.

“Then perhaps I should be grateful that you are so fond of the mortal, if your love for him keeps you here longer,” replied the elder Elf with a weak attempt at humour. Legolas looked up and smiled sadly.

“It is not that far from here, and you and Lord Celeborn are engaged in the task restoring your realms. I thought it only fair to give such a gift to the new King,” he explained, trying to make their coming separation easier to bear.

“Ai, it would indeed be a well received gesture, a legacy for the Men to remember us by long after the Elves have all left these shores, or faded into myth,” agreed Thranduil. “I imagine that many of your friends will wish to join you, and no doubt you expect Tathar to be one of them?”

“I have yet to ask him, but I know he will readily agree to accompany me,” replied Legolas with well founded faith in his friend. The sound of elvish harps filtered through the open doorway, interrupting the conversation with a sweet melody that invited them to join in the festivities.

“Come, it would be most impolite for the one who was being honoured not to attend his own feast,” said Thranduil as he stood, and drew Legolas into a final embrace and spoke softly into his ear. “Tomorrow I will begin helping you plan your move to Ithilien.”

********

Long after the merrymaking was ended and most of the Elves, including Thranduil had retired for the evening, Legolas and Tathar still remained sitting beneath one of the trees that bordered the clearing, talking about all that had occurred while they had been forced to go their separate ways. As the last embers of the fire around which they had danced the night away began to fade Tathar took Legolas by the hand and led him to the faintly glowing coals.

“There is something I must do, something that I have longed to do ever since I accepted the responsibility for this task,” said Tathar. Legolas raised an eyebrow in silent query, his question quickly answered as his friend drew an ivory coloured parchment packet from his inside his tunic and placed it on the coals.

“I thank the Valar that this is to be burned rather than read,” Legolas said with heartfelt relief as he watched the missive intended for Thranduil dissolve into flames. As the two friends watched, small red sparks and black ashes drifted upwards into the pale light of dawn and soon vanished.

“He would have faded, had he received this, as would have I,” said Tathar in a tender declaration of his love for his friend.

“Then it is well that I returned, but I am not the Elf who left here,” said Legolas sadly, looking for the words to tell Tathar of the changes Pelargir had wrought. When he finally managed to say them, Tathar was as shocked as Thranduil had been to learn that the gulls had called his friend home, and he hoped that Legolas could resist the longing until his vow to Aragorn was fulfilled. The mention of the new King of Gondor finally allowed the conversation to turn to his plans for Ithilien, and Legolas had barely finished explaining his ideas for a new colony when Tathar spoke up.

“I think we should share a talan when we move there, just like brothers might,” said Tathar, becoming excited at the prospect. “Of course, since I am the elder, I will expect the best view,” he teased.

“I have not even invited you to join me in Ithilien,” declared Legolas with mock indignation.

“I do not need an invitation, you have already promised the King you would take me on your next adventure, and I know you are an Elf of your word,” Tathar pointed out with a wicked grin.

“Well, I certainly do not intend to break a promise made to Adar, so I suppose you can come,” agreed Legolas. “And since you are the elder, I believe it is your place to tell him the rest of the news.”

“What news?” asked a suddenly very wary Tathar. Legolas had an evil gleam in his eye.

“Why the news that we will be travelling south with the Dwarves moving to Aglarond with Gimli, of course,” stated Legolas as if the fact was obvious. He laughed merrily at the astonished look on Tathar’s face. There would certainly be interesting times ahead.

To the surprise of everyone, Legolas included, it was not Tathar who informed Thranduil that they would be travelling back to Gondor with the Dwarves; the news was delivered by Gimli himself when he was brought before the King. It was almost as if history was repeating itself as the Dwarf and his friends, who had had been found following the Elf Path, were escorted by the sentries to the King’s Halls to explain their reason for being in the Woodland Realm.

“Your wear your father’s features, Gimli, son of Glóin, and his arrogant bearing,” Thranduil stated as the leader of the party of Dwarves stood before him, glaring defiantly at his guards. “What brings you to Eryn Lasgalen?” the King asked even though he suspected the reason had something to do with the friendship between the Dwarf and his son. Thranduil glanced at the doorway as Legolas and Tathar entered the throne room, and with a slight inclination of his head, silently ordered them to remain where they were whilst he continued his questioning.

“I am here to see if your son is ready to return to Gondor with me and my kinfolk,” Gimli declared with a small measure of pride as he looked Thranduil directly in the eye. Not only was the King even more fair of face than his son, even to a Dwarf’s eyes, but Gimli was amazed at the force of the power behind the steely hardness of his gaze.

“And what makes you think I will allow him to do so?” asked the King, impressed by the Dwarf’s straightforward response, but his disapproval of his stated purpose evident in the coldness of his voice.

“Legolas is a proven warrior and well beyond the age where he needs your permission,” observed Gimli with his usual abruptness. Legolas rolled his eyes in exasperation, wishing not for the first time that the Dwarf would think a little more carefully before he spoke. If it had been his friend’s intention to offend the King he had managed to do so quite successfully for Thranduil’s face darkened with rage.

“Then tell Legolas I am here and we will soon be gone,” replied Gimli, exchanging a glance with the King that was decidedly unfriendly.

“Greetings, friend Gimli. I see you and Adar have met,” said Legolas pleasantly as he stepped forward, deciding it was time he intervened. He placed a friendly hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder, squeezing gently to indicate it would be best if he kept his silence. “I would also like you to meet my dear friend Tathar,” he added signalling the Elf forward.

“I am honoured to meet you, Gimli son of Glóin. Legolas has told me of your many adventures and I trust we will also become friends,” said Tathar sincerely.

“Well met, Tathar,” responded Gimli with far more politeness than he had yet displayed to the King as he clasped the Elf’s arm in a warrior’s greeting. ”I have heard much of your own exploits from our friend and am very pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”

“Tathar perhaps you would care to escort your new found friend to one of the guest chambers and arrange for suitable accommodation for the others while I speak with Legolas,” said Thranduil scornfully, dismissing them both and turning his attention to his son.

“You did not inform me that the Dwarves were to be your travelling companions,” he said, still seething with anger.

“I thought it of no consequence, Adar, and even I did not realise Gimli intended to come here first. We were to meet at the border of the forest,” said Legolas, unable to hide his disappointment that his Adar and his beloved Gimli had taken an instant dislike to one another.

“I see, but you have been home barely a year, why is it that you are leaving so soon?” The anguish in his voice made Legolas realise that it was his imminent departure more than the Dwarf’s presence that had upset the King. He smiled lovingly at his despondent sire, and tenderly took his hands in his own.

“Adar, a year is a long time for my mortal friends, and it will be several months more before we reach Minas Tirith. It is time we made a move, for Aragorn is likely growing impatient to see us return,” he explained gently.

“Ai, yet I am reluctant to see you leave,” responded Thranduil sadly. Legolas was torn between love for his Adar and the promise he had made Gondor’s King, and immense sadness washed over his heart as he honoured the choice he had already made.

“Adar, you must know that part of me wishes to remain here with you and that you are ever in my heart, no matter how much distance separates us.” The elder Elf’s heart filled with joy at the love and tenderness in his son’s voice and he drew his son into a warm embrace, but it did not erase the sadness and sense of loss he felt.

“I take it that when the King said ‘guest room’ he did not mean the dungeons?” asked Gimli a little nervously as he followed Tathar from the throne room. The Elf laughed, eliciting a grunt of disgust from his companion.

“Had Legolas not interrupted your audience, I daresay that is exactly where you would have found yourself,” he replied with amusement. Tathar did not really believe Thranduil would have locked Gimli away, but he had taken an immediate liking to the Dwarf and saw no harm in teasing him a little.

“Well laddie, since I am to be spared that indignity, and I doubt I would rest well under the King’s roof, perhaps you would just show my friends and I to a suitable campsite , somewhere not too close to his dungeons,” suggested Gimli with a hint of facetiousness.

“A wise choice,” agreed Tathar, pleased that his feeling for the Dwarf was apparently mutual, and they both laughed heartily as they approached the small group who waited outside, exchanging unfriendly glares with their Elven guards.

Tathar bowed politely to Gimli’s friends and then lead them to a small grassy clearing that was located well away from the trees that housed most of the telain, as well as from the doors to the King’s Hall.

“Are we to be under guard until we leave?” asked Gimli, noting that the Elves had followed them.

“Nay, you are my guests, and are to be treated as such,” replied Legolas as he strode up to the head guard. “Many thanks for seeing that my friends arrived safely. You are hereby released from this duty,” he said with the authority he possessed as the King’s son, but rarely displayed.

“Is your Adar still angry?” asked Tathar as he and Legolas watched the Dwarves set up their camp.

“Nay, he is no longer angry, just upset,” replied Legolas, feeling no need to relate the more personal details of his conversation with Thranduil. Only one who knew him as well as Tathar could sense the melancholy in his mood.

“Take heart, mellon nin. I have decided that I quite like Gimli, and I am certain our friends coming with us to Ithilien will like him and his friends as well,” Tathar assured Legolas, placing a brotherly arm about the younger Elf’s shoulders.

It was a strange sight to behold two days later, as Legolas and his friends said their final farewells, and joined the band of Dwarves. Contrary to Tathar’s prediction, there was still a considerable amount of animosity and wariness between the two Races, and at first both parties kept to themselves, with the exception of Legolas, Gimli and Tathar.

Whenever a group conversation was attempted, it invariably ended up with both the Elves and Dwarves taking insult or offence. Fortunately Legolas and Gimli were well accustomed to such sparring, having indulged in a war of words themselves at the start of the Fellowship, and they had little trouble calming their kinfolk.

“It is difficult to believe we were once so unfriendly towards each other, is it not, laddie?” Gimli asked Legolas one night after they had resolved a particularly unpleasant confrontation over the benefits of smoking of pipeweed as opposed to the delights of Elvish singing.

“And over the very same issues, on several occasions as I recall,” Legolas mused.

“Well, it was rather unfair of you to hide first my pipe, and then my leaf,” said Gimli with a wink in Tathar’s direction. The elf was listening in fascination to this delightful insight into Legolas’s past.

“Had you learnt to climb trees you could have easily retrieved it, and Pippin did offer you some cotton to block your ears when I sang for the Hobbits,” responded Legolas.

“You sang ALL the time; I did not wish to walk around deaf! But you must admit it was quite amusing when I ‘misplaced’ your comb. His hair looked quite unruly until I ‘found’ it several days later,” Gimli chuckled. Tathar laughed out loud.

“That must have been torture for you, mellon nin,” he managed to say. “Gimli already knew you well if he realised you hated having even one hair out of place.” Legolas glared as the Dwarf but joined in the laughter.

“Well let us hope that our friends do not resort to such pranks, and come to friendship in a more dignified manner,” said Legolas. Until now he had not realised how tiresome the other members of the Fellowship must have found his and Gimli’s initial dislike of each other.

By the time the combined group reached the gates of the city, the Elves and Dwarves shared a grudging respect and in some cases, a newly forged friendship that surprised Aragorn, until he learned the reason why.

The King had asked Legolas, Gimli and Tathar to join him for an informal dinner on the eve they arrived, but had been astonished when the invitation was refused. When asked for a reason, it was Legolas who offered the explanation that stunned Aragorn into speechlessness.

“After several days’ journey, we had come upon a small stream and had followed its course to find it splayed out into a large pool that proved irresistible to those of us who had been unable to bathe as often as we wished. The Dwarves declined the invitation to join us in the refreshing water, preferring instead to rest on the grassy shore and smoke their pipes as they watched the frivolity.

We had become so accustomed to travelling with little regard for our safety, in this time of peace, that before we realised it, a band of rogue Orcs began attacking the Dwarves. They fought fiercely not only to save themselves, but to protect those of us who were still in the water. As we donned our leggings, two of Gimli’s comrades quickly retrieved our bows from beneath the tree that was some distance from the pool, and once armed, we were able to help defeat the attackers.

Not only did the Dwarves fight with courage in our defence, but many of my comrades had never witnessed axes wielded so skilfully and now look on them with the regard of warriors. Our companions had won both respect and gratitude, and as a reward, asked merely that we join them in a celebratory drink at Gimli's favourite tavern.” Aragorn laughed, it was just the kind of payment he would expect Gimli’s friends to demand.

“Of course, the Elves agreed to deal with the tavern bill,” added Gimli with a merry chuckle.

“And the Dwarves have agreed to refrain from trying to force us to drink their ale,” added Tathar.

“Indeed I see why you are honour bound to refuse my invitation,” conceded Aragorn when he finally found his tongue. His eyes were dancing with amusement and a tinge of longing as he imagined the look that would be on the poor tavern keeper’s face when the strange party arrived at his door. Legolas noticed the hidden desire in his friend’s countenance, and walked over to remove the crown from the King’s head.

“It would not be fitting for King Elessar to join us, but you are most welcome Aragorn, although you may like to bring your crown… just in case trouble brews,” he whispered into his friend’s ear.

So it was that, at Aragorn’s request, the tavern was closed to the public, and the debt of gratitude between the Elves and Dwarves was settled to the satisfaction of all. The people of Minas Tirith witnessed a sight never before seen, nor even imagined as the beings of uncommon beauty and light, shared their evening with the strong, sturdy children of Aulë.

“Are you sure there will be enough room for all your people?” Aragorn asked his two friends with some concern as they discussed their plans over breakfast the following day. It was actually more of an early lunch for Aragorn and Gimli, who had both slept well after a rowdy evening at the tavern. Legolas, as was his habit, had been awake since dawn.

Gimli and he had spent the night in guest chambers in the King’s house, but Tathar and the rest of the revellers had set up camps outside the gates. Despite assurances that Elf and Dwarf alike were well accustomed to sleeping under the stars, and in fact preferred it to the strangeness of a human city, the King had felt rather remiss in not providing better accommodation. His suggestion that the two groups of restorers should use the large house in Minas Tirith that had been home to the Fellowship during their stay after the Ring War as the headquarters from which to organise the repair work, was met with delight by Legolas and Gimli. The house held many fond memories for them both, memories of pleasant evenings by the fire, where they would sing, laugh at the merry banter between the Hobbits or tell each other tales both true and tall.

“There will be more than enough room for those staying behind when we leave tomorrow.” Legolas assured him

“Why are you leaving so soon?” Aragorn stared at his friend in disbelief as the Elf made the casual announcement.

“I can not speak for Gimli, but now that we have paid our respects to you, my folk and I are eager to travel to Ithilien and find a suitable location for our settlement,” replied Legolas as he exchanged glances with the Dwarf who nodded his silent accord.

“Aye, we are of like mind, Master Elf. My kin and I are also eager to travel on to Aglarond,” confirmed Gimli.

“What of the restoration work you promised?” Aragorn protested with a frown of disappointment and a hint of anger.

“Several of my friends will remain behind to begin the work and Tathar is arranging the first work group even as we speak. Both Gimli and I will be frequent visitors to ensure that all is going as planned.” Legolas’s quietly spoken words of reassurance mollified the King’s anger and it was replaced with curiosity as Gimli asked the question he had not yet thought to ask.

“Tell me Legolas, do you favour any particular part of the forest in which to make your new home?”

“My friends prefer somewhere with close access to the Anduin, and being unfamiliar with these woods, I was hoping to ask Faramir for his assistance in selecting a suitable site. He knows Ithilien’s forest better than most. Is the Steward expected in your court today, Aragorn?”

“Indeed he is, for he is escorting Arwen back from a visit with Éowyn.” A soft smile of anticipation played on his lips as he spoke his beloved‘s name. Arwen had been gone for over a month and he missed her terribly.

To everyone’s surprise, Faramir had already given much consideration to locations that might appeal to the Elves, so delighted was he to have them in Ithilien, and he eagerly escorted Legolas, Tathar and the others who were to begin the task of building the telain to the site he favoured. There were many sturdy tall trees in the heavily wooded area that was but a short distance from a wide stream that flowed into the mighty Anduin. Legolas was delighted that the site was exactly as he had envisioned it should be and reluctantly returned to Minas Tirith to oversee the work there, leaving Tathar in charge of the settlement. The Rangers of Ithilien offered their assistance in building the new colony and as the friendship between the men and Elves grew, so did the village in the trees. When Legolas returned several weeks later for a brief visit to check on the progress being made he was astonished to find the telain almost completed.

“Welcome to your new home,” said the Captain of the Rangers in slightly shaky Sindarin as Legolas strode gracefully into the small clearing that housed the communal kitchen and dining hall.

“You have learned our language,” he said with surprise as he suddenly realised that many of the Rangers were now conversing freely in Sindarin.

“Ai, we initially found conveying ideas to be a little difficult, and so offered to teach them a few words in payment for their wondrous aid,” explained Tathar with a bow to the Captain.

“It has been our pleasure. We are more than grateful to see the beauty of the forest begin to flourish with life once more .There is such a warm feeling in the air, it seems as if the trees are… happy,” he said hesitantly as he looked up into the rich green canopy above.

“They are, their spirits sing with joy,” Legolas confirmed softly and with a hint of sadness that only Tathar could detect. He studied his friend closely, but made no comment at the restlessness he saw in the depths of his eyes. Neither Elf noticed when the Captain of the rangers answered a summons from one of his men, leaving them on their own.

Eager to prevent his friend from slipping into a melancholy mood, Tathar insisted on showing Legolas what had already been achieved, beginning with the talan they were to share. It was high in one of the trees near the edge of the village, and thus had a view that encompassed both the forest and the silvery Anduin that flowed majestically in the distance.

“This is a breathtaking view,” commented Legolas when he had had his fill of the sight. “I suppose this is your room?” he enquired, remembering the elder Elf’s playful threat to take the one with the best view. Tathar laughed at the disappointed look on his friend’s face.

“Nay, this is far too large for one room, but we are standing in your half. I have yet to build the dividing wall, but when I do, we will both have the same view from our common balcony,” he explained. Legolas liked that idea very much and offered Tathar a brilliant smile that was returned in kind. “Come, there is something else you need to see,” he said mysteriously as he grabbed Legolas’s hand as he had often done when they were children excited about some adventure, forcing him to follow. They walked through the densely growing trees, finally stopping at a clearing that appeared unexpectedly in the midst of the forest. It was large, and almost circular in shape, but the trees were spread so far apart that the stars would be able to watch the merrymaking with an unobstructed view.

“I found this yesterday, and think it is a perfect place for our feasts,” he said. “Shall we try it out tonight?” Legolas agreed it was immensely suitable but merely cast a sceptical glance at his friend.

“Tathar, how can we have a feast? Our supplies are only basic until we can establish crops or trade with the city for our needs.”

“True, but do not forget that our beloved King ensured we had sufficient coin to pay for what we will need until that time. I travelled to Osgiliath yesterday and made a few purchases, and the rangers who accompanied me have secured one or two barrels of a wine that is really quite good. It is high time we celebrated our arrival, and properly thanked our new friends,” he said, daring Legolas to object. The younger Elf smiled at his friend’s determination and was wise enough not to waste his breath.

Legolas had to admit that the feast Tathar had prepared from the simple that he had acquired, with some fierce bargaining, according to those he had travelled with, from the markets at Osgiliath was one Tariel would have found little reason to fault. One of the rangers had acted as assistant cook, and there were dishes to please both Elf and Man, and the wine was every bit as excellent as Tathar had claimed. A mixture of musicians from the two Races provided music for the singing and the few elf maidens in their number were soon danced off their feet.

Yet in the midst of all the gaiety and frivolity, there was one whose smile did not reach his eyes. Tathar had been surreptitiously watching Legolas all night, and suspected that his enjoyment of the evening was mostly a façade. He was certain of it when the younger Elf was startled when he placed an affectionate hand his shoulder.

“What disturbs you thoughts, mellon nin?’ he asked gently, as he directed Legolas to a more private spot where they could talk without interruption. “Is the work in the city the cause of your concern?” Eyes filled with sorrow met his for a brief moment, and then Legolas shook his head.

“Nay, other than a few disagreements about the need for sturdy stone structures where grasses and flowers now grow, all is well.” Tathar laughed as he imagined the friendly rivalry that surely plagued the dwellers in the city. Even before he had left there had been a shocked silence from the Dwarves as he refused their help to draw up plans, saying the Elves would plant new life wherever the fancy took them, and that they needed no parchment to guide their designs.

“Then tell me why your heart is in turmoil.” It was a tender demand designed to force Legolas speak of his sadness as Tathar knew he needed to do.

“Nay. To stay in Middle-earth until he is King no more.” Legolas’s reply was choked by the tears he was desperately trying not to shed.

“The sea calls to you.” It was a simple statement with a depth of meaning that Legolas knew Tathar did not really understand.

“Ai, I want so desperately to go home, to sail the Straight Road In my dreams, Nana stands on a beautiful white shore and calls to me with open arms, and I run to her, all thoughts of those I leave behind nothing but a distant memory.”

“That is the problem, I can not. I have never broken an oath, and it would grieve me sorely to do so, especially when it is an oath to Aragorn. But more than that, my love for my friends will not allow me to cause them pain. Yet even now, part of my heart tells me I am deceiving myself, it scorns my friend’s love for me, laughs at my foolish attachment to those who have other loves and mortal lives. Aragorn does not need me, he has Arwen and his Kingdom, Gimli has his kinfolk Aglarond. Sometimes I do not know what to believe in anymore. I feel that if I do not heed the call of the sea I will fade, just as I will if I leave my friends. Tell me what I should choose, Tathar?” he begged, the anguish in his voice tearing into Tathar’s own heart as he took his now sobbing friend into his arms.

“As much as it hurts me to say this, mellon nin, I have no answer for you. I can not speak for your heart, but I can speak for mine. You are like a brother to me, and whatever path you choose, you will always have my love,” he said his voice filled with frustration at his inability to ease Legolas’s pain. “Let me be your strength, for you do not have my permission to fade.” To his relief, Legolas managed a weak smile at such an outrageous command.

“I love you too, my brother,” whispered Legolas as he placed a chaste kiss on Tathar’s cheek. The feast now long forgotten, they sat in silence until they both eventually drifted into sleep, still tightly enfolded in a comforting embrace.

When they awoke early the next morning, Tathar was pleased to see Legolas was back in good spirits.

“I wonder what our ranger friends will think, for surely they noticed our sleeping arrangement,” Legolas mused, sparing his friend a wicked grin as he slowly disentangled himself from the arms that held him close.

“I am certain there will be a few raised eyebrows, but let them assume what they will, I care not,” he replied dismissively. “I am more interested in how you feel.”

“Much better, and although my inner conflict remains unresolved and the sea calls me as strongly as ever, I am certain my control has returned.” Tathar was sceptical for Legolas sounded anything but reassuring; however he trusted his friend, and decided to accept his word, at least for now.

By the time the Elves had completed their work, the gardens of Minas Tirith were once again filled with the rainbow coloured finery of sweetly scented flowers in bloom, the common areas were carpeted with lush green grasses and strong young saplings lined many of the wider streets leading to the palace. There was little left for Legolas to do, other than complete Arwen’s private garden when the seedlings from Imladris arrived and since it would likely take several more weeks for the messenger to return with the plants that grew nowhere else on Arda, he decided to return to Ithilien to wait.

There was no denying that the White City was beautiful in its own way, but the Elf found the stone walls and constant demands of courtly behaviour to be far too confining for a nature loving soul such as he possessed. Legolas yearned for the freedom he found among the trees and in the free spirits of his own kind, yet it was with some reluctance that he took his leave from Aragorn and Gimli, for he knew they did not wish hem to leave. They had spent many pleasant evenings enveloped in the warmth of friendship as they sat in the large study in the house that Aragorn had provided, either reminiscing about their adventures, or discussing their plans for the future. Neither the King nor the Dwarf realised how painful such talk had become for Legolas who could only think of just how short their lives would be, and how he would grieve their loss.

An arrow of guilt pierced his heart as he passed through the gates for he suddenly felt as if a burden had been lifted from it as he left them, and the promises he no longer knew if he could keep, behind. He cast a longing glance to the south, imagining he could see the mithril white gulls in the distance, and for an instant he considered travelling down the Anduin rather than crossing it at Osgiliath. He sighed with resignation as he allowed the sense of responsibility he felt for Tathar and the other Elves who eagerly anticipated his return to Ithilien to deter him from seeking the sea this time, but he did not know how much longer he would be able to resist.

The air shimmered with the heat haze of the Midsummer afternoon and even the Elves, who were not really affected by the warmth, decided to stop work for the day and join the Rangers in the coolness to be found in the shade beneath the trees. The sounds of soft laughter and murmured conversations drifted up on the gentle summer breeze that played about Legolas and Tathar who had chosen instead to sit on the balcony of their talan and study the view their location afforded of the treetops and the river beyond.

“I have missed you, mellon nin,” Legolas said as he turned to smile affectionately at Tathar, who returned the smile in kind, thankful that his friend had found some measure of peace in the renewing forest. The younger Elf’s demeanour appeared cheerful, but Tathar sensed that his love of nature had been somewhat diminished since he heard the gulls calling him home, and his concern for Legolas had not lessened. In unguarded moments he had caught the haunted look that surfaced from the depths of his younger friend’s heart, dimming the normal brightness of his eyes.

“I have missed you too, mellon nin, and I am certain Aragorn and Gimli will miss your presence,” Tathar ventured, unsure if Legolas wished to speak of the ones who were partly causing him pain. Legolas nodded and smiled sadly knowing what Tathar wanted. They had not spoken of the sea, nor of his heartache since the feast many months ago but at present he was reluctant to discuss that particular topic, even with the brother of his heart.

“Possibly, but his responsibilities and duties as King leave little time for hours spent idly in the company of friends. Besides, it is past time I looked to the needs of my own settlement. It pleases me that more Elves make their way here, but that means more telain have to be built and more crops planned. Also we have the haven to finish, and although the light of the forest shines a little brighter, there is still a lot of healing we can perform.”

“Ai, the task ahead seems endless,” agreed Tathar, his mind eased a little by the genuine enthusiasm Legolas displayed. “And seeing them done will hopefully keep you distracted from your inner turmoil”.

“Just so, and I have developed a deeper respect for my grandsire and Adar. Establishing a new colony is not as easy as Adar made it seem, even with the assistance of the Rangers,” Legolas admitted. Tathar nodded agreement, and was about to comment further when Faramir appeared below in quite an agitated state and asked permission to join his two friends.

The Prince of Ithilien was a regular visitor to the elvish colony, and had arrived earlier that morning bearing another of Prince Imrahil’s invitations for Legolas to spend some time at Dol Amroth. The letter had been read and the offer again politely refused, as had the many others of a like nature, much to Tathar’s relief. He agreed with Gimli that it would not be wise for their friend to travel any where near the sea in his present frame of mind.

The Dwarf had easily sensed the Elf’s distress whilst he was still in Minas Tirith and had come to Ithilien barely a few days after Legolas’s return in part to satisfy his curiousity regarding the new colony, but mostly to make sure his friend had arrived safe and well. Gimli had spent a few pleasant days with Legolas, and it was before he took his leave to travel to Aglarond that he and Tathar had spoken privately of their growing concern for their troubled friend and their mutual feeling of helplessness in the face of Legolas’s despair.

“What do you make of that strange haze in the air that seems to be floating down the Anduin?” the Steward asked the Elves as he pointed to the north. The disquiet in his voice suggested he thought there was some evil afoot.

“Elvish eyes do not see what you do, son of Gondor,” Legolas gently reminded Faramir after a quick glance in the direction indicated. Neither Elf saw any kind of strangeness in the air or on the river, but they exchanged smiles of delight at what they did see.

“You say that it seems as if the air is dancing before your eyes, yet all I see are four elven craft gliding gracefully along the waters.” Faramir breathed a sigh of relief as he squinted harder to see the boats that he readily accepted were as Legolas described.

“They are still to far away for me to see. Are they from Eryn Lasgalen?” he asked.

“Ai, three of the boats have some of our River Elves at the oars, but Elladan and Elrohir paddle the other, if I am not mistaken,” added Tathar, his eyes glittering with excitement. “We must row out to meet them and guide them to our haven,” he added, already beginning to climb down the rope ladder that served as access to and from the talan. Legolas and Faramir followed close behind, and in a matter of minutes, one of the two elegant Lothlórien boats that they had retrieved from near the Falls of Rauros was headed out to meet the new arrivals.

There were smiles of greeting all around, and to everyone’s amusement, the sons of Elrond almost managed to capsize their boat as they waved wildly to Legolas and Tathar. It was only the reflexes and skill of the River Elf in the boat beside them that prevented the disaster, and saved them and their precious cargo of plants for their sister’s garden from falling into the cool waters of the Anduin. The boats were quickly pulled ashore in the unfinished havens, and as the others moved off with their friends and loved ones, Elrohir blocked the path of the elder Elf and offered his thanks.

“You have our deepest gratitude,” Elrohir said for them both as he and his brother bowed respectfully to their rescuer.

“Think nothing of it, it is not uncommon for such a mishap to befall the inexperienced, is it?” the Elf asked exchanging a knowing glance with Legolas and Tathar.

“Nay, but at least you managed to keep them dry,” pouted Tathar who well recalled the incident the elder was referring to. He and Legolas were learning to row in separate boats, and against instructions from their tutor, engaged in a game of trying to push one another from their seats. Both overbalanced and fell into the Forest River which at that time was ice cold from the spring thaw and cold even to elvish senses.

“I regret that I was not quick enough to prevent you two from taking a swim in the waters that soon cooled your youthful exuberance.” The lack of sincerity was easily heard in the teasing voice.

“I now wonder whether our friend there deliberately let us capsize when he was teaching us to row,” commented Legolas, his suspicion confirmed by a slight reddening of the River Elf’s ears.

“Ah, but he only had King Thranduil’s wrath to deal with, which I imagine is nowhere near as fearsome as Arwen’s,” observed Elladan with playful disrespect for his beloved sister, causing a burst of laughter from all who heard his words.

“These are Lothlórien built craft, are they not? How is it that you have brought them here?” asked Legolas, suddenly curious. The Elf who had once been their teacher explained that when they had approached the King for permission to move to Ithilien, he had contacted Lord Celeborn who had readily offered the boats as a gift to the new colony.

“And how is it you come to be travelling in such roguish company?” Tathar asked of the Elf, indicating he meant Elladan and Elrohir with a slight tilt of his head towards the two.

“Well that is a better description,” Elladan joked with a grin that was in no way innocent.

“I will have you know we were already on our way here and had merely stopped to pay our respects to our grandsire when your friends arrived. We saw no reason not to join their party,” explained Elrohir such an outrageously haughty attitude that even Elladan could not help but join in the merry laughter of the others.

“Then since you are here, perhaps you would care to stay tonight and journey to Minas Tirith with me in the morn. I promised Arwen I would return to finish her garden when the seedlings were delivered,” Legolas told the brethren. Elladan and Elrohir willingly accepted the invitation and to the delight of all, Thranduil has also seen fit to send a few barrels of wine from his private cellar whilst Tariel had sent some of her ‘special’ pastries. A jovial mood descended on the forest and that evening as a grand feast was held to welcome the new comers.

“My Prince, a word if I may?” asked one of the new arrivals as he drew Legolas to one side so that they could speak in private. The prince recognised the Elf as the son of one of Thranduil’s advisors and nodded, indicating he was listening.

“King Thranduil asked me to inform you that he wishes to visit Ithilien, and will do so shortly. He would have travelled with us, but he was expecting the arrival of a delegation from East Lórien. He also asked me to relay his deep affection for you and to say that he eagerly awaits your next meeting.” Legolas thanked the messenger and then stood for a long moment gazing at the stars shone on both Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien this night, linking Adar and son just as surely as did the song in their hearts.

“Come to me before it is too late,” Legolas silently begged Thranduil, suddenly feeling the need for the comfort only to be found in his Adar’s arms.

A/N: This chapter has reached the part of the timeline where “Lost and Found” occurs, and contains a small excerpt from that story that some of you may recognise.

After a night of restless sleep caused by the harsh crying of gulls as they wheeled overhead in his dreams, the pale light of dawn found a solitary figure at the haven, seated in one of the boats, throwing leaves into the water of the stream and watching with unseeing eyes as they floated on their way to the Anduin. Legolas envied the small pieces of his forest their journey, and smiled sadly at the whimsical notion that at least one ‘greenleaf’ would find the sea.

“It is a fine morning, is it not?” asked a human voice, startling the Elf from his musings. Legolas was thankful no danger lurked nearby and he silently berated himself for his lack of awareness, even as he turned and smiled a greeting to the ranger who began sorting the wooden planks that were to be part of the small wharf that was yet to be built.

“Ai, but it is too early to begin work, and your companions still sleep,” he observed.

“That is because, unlike me, they enjoyed far too much of your fine food and wine last night,” he replied with a merry chuckle.

“The rangers of the north often enjoyed the hospitality of Imladris in such a manner, it is only fitting that the rangers of the south and Lord Elrond’s sons do likewise in Ithilien,” Legolas told him with amusement as he recalled several such occasions, usually the result of a challenge by Elladan and Elrohir or the rangers themselves to determine which race was able to drink the most. His early morning companion burst into laughter and promptly dropped the large log he trying to move. Legolas quickly went to his aid, and the man smiled his appreciation.

“May I ask you a question?” he enquired politely as they continued to work. Legolas nodded.

“I hear that Elves have some kind of tie with their forests, and that you are able to talk to the trees. Is this so?”

“Certainly it is for Wood Elves such as my friends and me. Our light shines brightest when we are in the forests of our homes, and we all hear the sweet voices of the trees, although some more than others,” replied Legolas, wondering at the thoughtful look on the ranger’s face.

“Then perhaps you might be interested in a tale I have heard about a tree that is said to be the oldest one in these parts? I imagine if you could speak with it, it would have much to tell of times gone by.”

“Where would I find such a tree, for I would dearly love to make its acquaintance,” said Legolas, the delight in his eyes driving away his melancholy.

“As the story goes, it is a short distance from the river, in the woods just north of Pelargir,” he told the Elf. Legolas thanked him for the information and decided that he would seek out this wonder as soon as he returned from Minas Tirith.

Both Elladan and Elrohir noted their friend’s troubled countenance as they made their way to Aragorn’s court, and initially their enquires were met with a simple, “Nothing of import, please do not worry,” but after Legolas’s distraction caused him to burn the rabbit he was roasting for their evening meal, Elrohir insisted on a more detailed explanation. When he had finished speaking of the inner conflict that troubled his heart, of his uncertainty surrounding his future, they both nodded wisely.

“We understand, mellon nin,” said Elladan with a hint of sadness. Legolas cast him a dubious glance. “Not the sea longing, of course, for we are not afflicted in that way, but deciding when to leave has weighed heavily on us both.”

“I would have thought having to choose between Elf and Man would have been more difficult.” Legolas observed as he looked from one to the other in some confusion.

“Nay, Arwen chose to stay with her heart, as did we, for we always intended to sail to where our beloved Nana awaits. Yet our hearts were also torn between leaving with Adar and staying in Arda as long as our sweet sister lives.” Elrohir told him.

“Obviously you decided to stay.” He knew that Elrond and the others had sailed to Valinor several years ago.

“Ai, for as you have promised Aragorn, so have we promised Arwen,” said Elladan.

“It is a promise I do not know that I can keep. The choice to sail West, and perhaps even the choice of when to leave was taken from my hands by the cry of the gulls. Adar tried to warn me of the dangers of loving mortals, and the ties that bind me here are strong. I am being pulled in two directions. Part of me wants to honour my vow, and part of me wants to sail even as we speak.” He sighed angrily, but allowed his obvious frustration to be tempered by a friendly arm about his shoulders. He smiled his thanks at Elrohir and listened as Elladan spoke words meant to comfort.

“The path you walk is a difficult one, but surely the Valar will reward you for the suffering you endure out of love and loyalty. Perhaps you should consider the words our grandsire offered before we finally made our choice.”

“And what wisdom did Lord Celeborn offer?” Legolas was understandably curious.

“He suggested that we remember that for an Elf, time is of no real consideration and that a mortal’s days are numbered whereas our loved ones in Valinor will still be waiting when we finally sail. It is certainly part of the reason he did not leave with the Ring bearers.” Elrohir explained.

“I had not considered it from that point of view, and I do not think Adar has either,” Legolas mused, with a spark of hope. It was true, of course, but he was still uncertain that he could resist the siren song of the gulls, even knowing it would only be for a short time.

“I have not dared to ask, for I fear his reply will be that he is too strongly bound to the forest and Arda to ever leave,” replied Legolas sadly.

“He and Lord Celeborn are of a like mind in their passion for their homes, but I am certain they will both eventually decide otherwise.” Elladan spoke with such confidence that both Elrohir and Legolas firmly believed it would be so.

Arwen was overjoyed to see her brothers, and embraced them warmly when they arrived the next day. Legolas also received an affectionate hug, and was then unceremoniously dragged out into the garden to complete the planting before the travel worn seedlings died. The work took only a few days, and to Aragorn’s dismay, as soon as the gardens were established, Legolas left word with the Dwarves requesting Gimli to visit Ithilien then took his leave and returned home. Not only was the Elf eager to find the tree that the ranger had told him about, but he was anxious to do so before the comforting presence of Thranduil arrived. On his return to the haven, Legolas moored his boat and then sought out Tathar to tell him of the short trip he planned to take.

Tathar tried to dissuade Legolas from taking such a trip, concerned as he was for his distracted state of mind, and seeing the determination in his friend’s eyes, offered to accompany him. He was displeased when Legolas refused the offer, and his displeasure turned to anger at the folly of his not only going alone, but for the secrecy of his destination. Legolas had decided to keep that information to himself lest Tathar try to follow. He wanted, no needed, to be alone and he hoped that perhaps with ancient tree would soothe his troubled heart could or at the very least he would be offered some guidance, or if not, perhaps a very interesting conversation.

Thus it was that when Tathar realised Legolas was missing, he was somehow not surprised, but he took full weight of the responsibility on his own shoulders. Elves and Rangers allied to form search parties, but the whereabouts of the elusive Elf could not be discovered. Tathar began to grow fearful for his friend’s well being, and was relieved when Aragorn arrived from Minas Tirith in the company of Thranduil and Gimli to join the search.

He was even more relieved when they returned several weeks later with Legolas, alive and well and, as he welcomed his friend’s return with a strong, affectionate embrace he sensed an air of serenity that suggested his inner conflict had somehow been resolved.

“I was so worried for you, mellon nin,” he said tenderly when they finally parted, but then his mood turned decidedly irate. “How dare you go and become lost in a storm, leaving me to deal with your very concerned Adar and the Dwarf of whom he is not overly fond,” he said angrily, using words to vent his pent up emotions.

“I am sorry, Tathar, I should have heeded your words. I was in no fit state to undertake a lone journey. Will you forgive me for causing you so much trouble?” Legolas humbly beseeched his friend.

“Only if you promise to tell me everything that happened, for I can tell you did more than just lose your way,” he replied, his smile returning as Legolas quickly agreed and sealed his promise with a chaste kiss to Tathar’s cheek.

Later that evening, the trees witnessed the strange sight of Elves, a Man and a Dwarf gathered around the fire listening as Legolas told them of his encounter with the stranger known as Gwael.

I went in search of an ancient tree, and as you know, I was caught in a sudden storm, and after breaking my ankle and being knocked unconscious I found myself on the banks of the river, in the company of a strange old man. I could hear a sound that reminded me of the waterfalls of Imladris, but the man, Gwael, told me it was not a waterfall, but the sea.

I was mesmerized by the whispering voice of the sea that was growing ever louder, until it became a thunderous roar, seeming to pulse with its own heartbeat and in time with mine. As the path fanned out before me onto a wide expanse of sandy beach, I tasted the tangy saltiness with which the warm breath of the air kissed my lips, as I stood still, gazing with wonder at the constantly moving blackness that stretched to the horizon becoming as one with the dark night sky.

The waves seemed to whisper invitingly as they retreated back into the sea after they had broken on the shore. A firm hand on my arm prevented me from attempting to follow the sweet voice, which I so dearly desired to do. I glared angrily at Gwael, but found he was alarmed to see such an intense longing burning in my eyes.

“Let me go!” I hissed as I vainly tried to pull free of the old man’s grasp.

“What are you saying, can you not hear the waves calling me?” I asked as I was quickly becoming distraught. “Why did you bring me here if not to let me go?”

“I brought you here to face your fear, and to help ease your heart of its turmoil,” replied the old man. “Yes the sea is calling to you, but you should listen more closely to your inner voice, are there not others who also call to your heart?” He could easily see lure of the sea was waging a war with me, for I remained silent as I tried to resolve my inner conflict.

“Tell me about your friends, tell me about Gimli and Aragorn,” suggested Gwael as he indicated with his hand that I should sit with him on the sand that glowed pearly white in the darkness.

“Ai, they are both like brothers to me, especially Gimli,” I replied allowing an affectionate smile to curl my lips as I thought of the Dwarf.

“Nay, it would cause me much grief were I to do so. I would be taking heartache with me to Valinor,” I admitted with sadness.

“And would it not also greatly grieve them were you to sail to the Undying Lands, leaving them behind? Do they not return your love and friendship in full measure?” asked the healer in an effort to make me recognize that not only my feelings were at stake.

“Yet since they are both mortal, their days will come to an end in but a short measure of elvish time. Would not the wisest solution to your dilemma be for you to stay in Middle Earth until their days are spent?”

“Ai, even now the sea calls strongly to me, but even stronger are the bonds of friendship of which you speak. For love of the King and the Dwarf I will delay my journey to Valinor,” I told him, suddenly feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from my heart.

“Who was this mysterious old man?” asked Tathar. As he finished speaking, Legolas became momentarily lost in thought as he realized that Gwael’s advice had been much the same as Celeborn had offered his grandsons, and he wondered briefly if the once Lord of Lothlorien also knew him. Seeing his son’s preoccupation, Thranduil answered for him.

“I asked Círdan much the same question, for I met him as I bid Elisiel farewell from the Havens. He answered evasively telling me only that the stranger’s name was Gwael and that he could be found in Mithlond every time a ship sailed for Valinor, as he had already done for many lives of men. He is definitely not merely an old man, but as for being an Istar… well, even to this day I m not certain. I can only tell you that he has been granted the grace of Ilúvatar to appear as man or bird, and that he is King of the Gulls.”

“I care not so much who or what he is, but I do care that he was able to ease your heart, Legolas,” said Tathar.

“I think I have found some measure of peace, and even a little control over the sea longing at last,” Legolas assured him.

“So I take it you have decided to stay with Aragorn and me, and there will be no more of this running away to sea nonsense,” stated Gimli in his usual abrupt manner that was a sign of his deep affection. Legolas placed a hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder and grinned wickedly.

“Indeed, friend Gimli. Upon reflection I realized that although I have visited your caves, you have not yet learned to climb a tree and so I must stay and see to your education,” he teased.

“Humph! You have as much chance of doing that, Elf, as I do of sailing to Valinor with you,” he exclaimed, causing everyone to laugh.

“And I am grateful that you will be here to be a part of my son’s life, for you are as a brother to me,” said Aragorn, the meaning of his words silencing the laughter as all eyes turned to stare at the now blushing King.

“I sensed something different about Arwen when we were working on her gardens, “said Legolas as he moved to give Aragorn a congratulatory embrace. “I am delighted for you both.”

“It is customary among Men and Elves… and Dwarves?” Thranduil asked with a sidelong glance at Gimli who nodded affirmation, “to offer a toast on the announcement of an upcoming birth.” Tathar moved to fetch the wine, and returned a short time later with five cups and bottle from the small stock of Aragorn’s favorite wine that Legolas kept for the King’s visits. The cups were raised and good wishes offered as they drank a toast to the unborn heir of Gondor. Aragorn could not contain his happiness, and soon all voices but one joined in the chorus of a merry elvish song.

When the singing ended, Tathar suddenly excused himself from the group and made his way back to his talan. Only when he reached the sanctuary of his room did he let his tears fall freely. Legolas had felt his friend’s unmistakable grief and he followed, meaning to offer comfort, yet tears filled his own eyes as he climbed the ladder and a heartbreakingly sad whisper reached his ears.

Legolas peered into the room that was lit by the faint glow of moonlight, and saw Tathar sitting on the bed with his head resting on knees that were drawn up to his meet his chest. His hands were wrapped around his shins as and his shoulders rose and fell in time with his sobs of grief. The sorrowful sight was more than Legolas was able to bear, and without hesitation, he moved over to the bed, and took his friend in his arms, offering him the same comfort that Tathar had often given him in his dark times.

“Faelas was such a beautiful babe,” Tathar whispered as his tears subsided. He accepted the warm embrace by placing his arms around Legolas’s waist and resting his head on his friend’s shoulder. Legolas nodded his agreement.

“Ai and so utterly adorable that he captured everyone’s heart,” he added, kissing his lifelong friend tenderly on the brow. His words evoked a small smile of pride from the distraught adar who was desperately trying to regain control of his broken heart.

“I am sorry for my abrupt departure. I did not mean to mar Aragorn’s good news but mention of his unborn son reminded me of my loss and my grief overwhelmed me. It hurts so much, Legolas.” The anguish in his voice, and the soul deep sorrow in the eyes that met his, undid Legolas and he ley his own tears fall.

“I know, but do not be concerned for I am certain Adar will offer an explanation to Aragorn and Gimli. Perhaps you should try to rest,” he suggested sensing the emotional strain had taken its toll.

“You are not alone,” Legolas reassured him as he hugged his friend close, softly singing a sweet lullaby into the silky hair as he tenderly caressed the soft tresses. Before long his ministrations had the desired soothing effect, and the grief stricken Elf in his arms drifted into reverie. Rather than disturb the affectionate scene that met his eyes when he came to see how Tathar was faring, Thranduil simply stood at the end of the bed and exchanged a wordless good night with his son, then quietly closed the door on his way out.

Legolas soon succumbed to sleep, only to be awoken shortly after by Tathar’s restless movements and the same piercing scream of “NO!” that had shattered the peace of Imladris when Tathar learned of Faelas’s death. He awoke drenched in sweat from the pain of his nightmare, and in his still drowsy and anguished state, lashed out at Legolas.

“It is your fault; you should not have let him go to Gilbard’s village!” Tathar spat the words with venom, and pushed his friend away. Legolas knew it was Tathar’s anger and grief that was speaking, but the words cut into his heart nonetheless.

“I tried to stop him, you know I loved him as if he were my own son,” he said, although he had been forgiven, he had always harboured a hidden guilt that he had not been able to precent the young Elf’s death.

“Then perhaps it would be wise of you not to feel that way about Aragorn’s son, lest he die in your charge as well!” Legolas was speechless with horror at the words coming from his friend, and his pain turned to uncontrollable anger.

“I had no more control over Faelas than you ever did! You swore you held me not to blame, and I believed you. It seems I was mistaken and all these years of friendship have been based on a lie. I know you grieve, and I can forgive you much, but since you accuse me of being the cause of your suffering, I will remove myself from your sight!” Legolas shouted angrily as he stormed towards the door, and directly into Thranduil’s arms. The King had heard the raised voices and had come to see what had happened.

“He does not mean it, Legolas,” he said as tears of hurt and rage wet his son’s cheeks.

“Go and refresh yourself, and join Aragorn and Gimli for the morning meal. I will stay with Tathar and try and speak some sense to him,” said Thranduil. He watched his dejected son go into the next room and collect some clean clothes, before heading to the bathing pool, then taking a deep breath, he opened Tathar’s door and entered unannounced.

The younger Elf was standing in the archway that served as both window and doorway to the balcony, watching the day dawn. Tears were streaming down his face from eyes that were filled with despair, and he seemed unaware that Thranduil come and placed an arm about his shoulders.

“Aragorn’s news reminded me of the day Legolas was conceived, of how overjoyed Elisiel and I were that we were to be blessed with a son,” Thranduil said quietly as he joined Tathar on the balcony.

“As were Mirieth and I, but my son now resides in the Halls of Waiting, whereas yours does not,” Tathar said bitterly.

“And for that you blame Legolas? ‘Tis only Mandos who has the power to call for those destined to reside with him,” Thranduil reminded the younger Elf.

“Ai, that is so,” he admitted, suddenly ashamed of what he had said to his friend, his brother in all but blood. “I spoke unthinkingly, but could not stop myself. All I could see was Faelas’s fair face, his ever smiling eyes now darker than the shadow looking past me, void of all life and spirit.” Tathar began to sob again, and Thranduil drew him into his arms.

“The grief never fades, does it?” he asked quietly. He felt the head resting on his shoulder shake slightly as Tathar recognised the voice of one who had also lost loved ones.

“He is understandably upset, but he could never hate you,” Thranduil stated with deep conviction. “Although I think it may take some time before he is ready to forgive you.”

Legolas was not in a very forgiving mood when he joined his friends for the morning meal, nor was he willing to discuss what had transpired between him and Tathar. He promptly stilled any talk of his ‘so called’ friend with an abrupt response to Gimli’s innocent query as to Tathar’s health.

“He is well enough,” was all he would say as he slammed his mug down onto the table in a manner that was definitely unlike the Elf and caused both his friends to jump.

“I think I will return to the city with you, Aragorn so that I can offer my congratulations to Arwen in person,” he said trying to sound cheerful while he part of his heart was dying from the wound Tathar had inflicted with his accusation.

“She will be pleased to see that you have safely returned from your ‘disappearance’. Had not Elladan and Elrohir been there to keep her company, I believe she would have insisted on us aiding in our search,” he told his friend. Legolas imagined Arwen doing just that, despite her delicate condition and his face turned deathly pale as Tathar’s words came back to haunt him. Aragorn’s unborn son may not have survived such an ordeal.

“What ails you, Legolas?” asked Gimli as he noticed the Elf’s paleness and the fear in his eyes.

“Nothing, I am just suddenly rather weary, I did not sleep last night,” he replied, forcing a smile. Aragorn and Gimli knew a deception when they heard one, especially one coming from the Elf, but knew him well enough to realise he would not be forthcoming with his problem unless he wished to share its burden.

Their concern grew as, during the next few days, as Tathar remained in his rooms, and Legolas wandered aimlessly around the forest in a dark mood that not even the soft whisperings of the trees could lighten. He made no move to speak with his estranged friend and steadfastly refused any attempts at interference.

“Legolas, Tathar is very ill, he asks for you whenever he is awake, you must go to him.” Thranduil told him after Tathar had again refused to eat.

“I have nothing to say to him,” he replied, anger flashing in his eyes. Finally Thranduil had had enough, and ordered Legolas to accompany him to speak with Tathar, threatening to have Aragorn and Gimli tie him up and carry him to his friend’s rooms if he refused. Legolas had no doubt that the threat was genuine, and that his friends would carry out their part, so rather than suffer such humiliation, he found himself sitting stiffly in a chair at the side of Tathar’s bed.

He could not help but gasp at the dark circles around eyes that were dull with grief. Tathar offered a pale imitation of a smile, and weakly reached out his hand.

“I am so sorry that I have hurt you so deeply, mellon nin. I know you will never be able to forgive the words I would that I had never spoken, but please do not hate me,” he implored.

“I loved Faelas as if he were my own son, I would have given my life to save his if I could,” Legolas said with barely controlled anger as he took the strangely cold hand in his. He looked at Thranduil with alarm as he suddenly recognised that his friend was fading.

“Ai, he can no longer bear the grief of his loss, nor the pain he has caused you,” Thranduil affirmed.

“You must sail to Valinor at once,” Legolas said as he forgot his anger and took the slight body of his friend into his arms. The thought of losing his friend caused his heart to beat rapidly with fear.

“You are my heart’s brother Tathar; I love you and do not wish to lose you to Mandos. Please do as I ask?” he begged. When he received no response, he turned to Thranduil, his eyes imploring his Adar to give him the words to convince Tathar. The King moved to the other side of the bed and tenderly stroked fading Elf’s cheek.

“Eryn Lasgalen thrives now it is released from the shadow and our friends live in safety and peace. Go to Valinor, and take comfort in Mirieth’s arms, for we both know she is the only one who truly understands your grief. I will take care of Legolas, as will his mortal friends. As one adar to another, I beg of you to do as he bids, for if you fade, he will surely follow you.” Tathar could not find it in his heart to deny such a plea and closed his eyes in silent acquiescence.

“I will travel with you to Mithlond, mellon nin,” said Legolas, his relief evident in his brilliant smile that faded as Tathar’s face twisted with pain.

Legolas felt the slim form in his arms stiffen, and placing a finger beneath Tathar’s chin, tenderly lifted his face upwards so that they could see into each other’s eyes. In a single moment of silent communication all was forgiven and the bond of friendship burned brightly once more.

“Tathar, I have made my choice, and need no longer fear the sea. I have slept on the sandy shore, and danced among the waves, yet I am still here. I will travel to the Havens with you, and even if I am merely fooling myself, and find I am drawn into answering the call and taking sail with you, then so be it. For love of you, I will not see you suffer any longer, and will not rest until I see you safely on the Straight Road.”

“I love you, too my brother,” whispered Tathar as his eyes glazed and he drifted into reverie with a smile of joy playing on his lips.

Whether it was by the wish of the Valar, or simply the swiftness of his mount, Legolas cared not, for he considered himself fortunate to have arrived back in Minas Tirith on the morning of the Prince of Gondor’s birth. By the King’s command Legolas and Gimli were privileged to be the only two beings allowed to pass unhindered through the city, and the Elf was grateful for this concession as he quickly made his way to the King’s house. Aragorn welcomed him with open arms, and after a brief word of congratulation to the father followed by a chaste kiss on the cheek for the mother, Legolas found a tiny new life in his arms. He whispered the elvish words of welcome to the newborn prince, completing the ritual with a butterfly touch of his lips to Eldarion’s brow. Aragorn and Arwen beamed with delight as their dearest friend began to sing a soft lullaby to the babe who had begun wriggling restlessly in Legolas’s arms.

“He is just as beautiful as one would expect a child of the Evenstar to be,” he told Arwen as he carefully tucked the now sleeping into the crib Gimli had hand crafted as a gift to the new parents. The Queen blushed at the compliment, and offered her thanks.

“I am impressed with how unafraid you are of my son, that you know he is not as fragile as he appears.” She cast an adoring but long suffering glance in Aragorn’s direction. “It is a testament to your experience with children.” Arwen, covered her mouth with her hand in horror as she belatedly realised her reference to Tathar’s child might cause him pain. “I am so sorry, Legolas…” she began, her words silenced by the gentle touch of an elvish finger to her lips.

“Do not apologise, Arwen and do not be afraid to say what you will. I can not forget Faelas, or the emptiness I still feel at his loss, but I hold nothing but joy in my heart for your enchanting son. I will not let my sadness intrude on your happiness, nor the future friendship I will have with Eldarion.”

“I know, it is just that holding my own son has made me realise the true extent of his loss and how deeply that wound cuts into his very soul,” she said.

“He is likely much healed already, it is several months since he sailed,” said Legolas with a hint of envy. The sea had indeed beckoned to him as he stood beside Thranduil and bid Tathar farewell, but the mysterious Gwael had suddenly appeared at his other side, reminding him it was not yet his time. Once the swan ship disappeared from view, Legolas reluctantly turned his back on what had once again become his heart’s desire.

“And how are you faring, mellon nin?” Aragorn asked as he saw, as only a close friend would, the disquiet and the slight loss of brilliance in the eyes that that held his gaze.

“I am a little hungry, and long for the pleasure of a nice warm bath,” replied Legolas, ignoring Aragorn’s sigh of exasperation.

“That is not what I meant, and well you know it. I was enquiring about your journey to the Havens,” he said, wishing not for the first time that just once the Elf would deign to answer without being deliberately obtuse.

“Aragorn, where are your manners?” demanded Arwen, realising they were being remiss in their duties to their guest. Her husband took the gentle chastisement to heart and bowed to his friend.

“Please forgive me, I will arrange for a bath to be drawn in your chamber and will join you for a meal, and a long conversation once you are fully refreshed.” Legolas smiled at the implied command, and decided to humour the King and obey him, at least in part.

Aragorn left Arwen to rest, and their son in the capable hands of the nurse, and then went to the kitchens to collect the tray he had ordered to be prepared. The kitchen staff was not surprised to see the King amongst them, for during Arwen’s pregnancy he had often been sent to the kitchens at all hours in search of her current craving. It was, however unusual for him to act as servant to his guest. Aragorn chose to ignore the raised eyebrows, and made his way with the heavily laden tray to Legolas’s chambers where he set the meal up on the small table near the window overlooking the gardens.

“The plants are thriving,” commented the Elf as he stole silently up to stand beside his friend. His hair was still damp, his face slightly flushed from the heat of the water and he wore only a simple tunic and leggings. He looked so comfortable and relaxed that Aragorn decided to dispense with formality and remove his royal robes, leaving him as comfortably attired as his friend albeit not quite as fragrant.

“Aye and all the gardens are truly beautiful,” added Aragorn as he indicated that Legolas should help himself to the food. The King took a few bites of an apple, and then asked his friend for an account of his recent journey.

“There is really not much to tell. In the few days we were estranged Tathar faded much faster than expected, but although he continued to decline, the process had slowed considerably after our differences were reconciled. We left for the Havens the day after you and Gimli retuned to Minas Tirith., and although Tathar was still quite weak, by the time we left he had begun accepting food, and his spirits were lifted when Adar decided to accompany us.

The trip was long and uneventful except for the many pleasant evenings we three spent around the fire, recounting tales from the past and wondering what awaited us in the Undying Lands. It was an immense relief to Adar and me that Tathar was becoming increasingly eager to make his final journey and when we at last arrived at Mithlond, he was happier than he had been for many years. I suspect he had been fading very slowly ever since his son’s death, but had fought his fate with his need for revenge on the Shadow,” commented Legolas.

“Ai, it seems likely to me as well, I have read of such cases in many of Elrond’s books on healing. So your parting was not too hard on either of you?’ Aragorn surmised.

“Nay it was sad, but knowing we will meet again in years to come made it far easier than we expected.”

“And what of your Adar? Has he decided to sail?” asked Aragorn. Legolas shook his head sadly.

“Tathar asked him that question, but all he would offer in reply was that he was not yet ready to leave Middle-earth,” Legolas told Aragorn with a sigh of exasperation that turned to a frown as his friend burst into laughter. “I fail to see the humour in Adar’s reply,” he said archly.

“Legolas, mellon nin, it amuses me greatly to know that even Elves can become annoyed when given a typically vague elvish answer.” Legolas smiled and conceded the point, then turned the conversation to their absent friend.

“Has Gimli been sent word of Eldarion’s’ birth?” he enquired, hoping that the Dwarf was soon expected in the city.

“I sent a message this morning, but it is not likely he will see it for some time. It was attached to my message of condolence for the passing of Glóin,” replied Aragorn, as he reluctantly gave Legolas the sad news.

“When did this happen? I heard no such news when I was in Eryn Lasgalen,” said Legolas. After they had left Mithlond, he had travelled to his former home with Thranduil and had stayed for several weeks before heading south.

“It was only a few days ago that the eagles bore the sad news to Gimli, then took him home to Erebor to mourn with his kin.” Aragorn told him. “I imagine the news would have reached your Adar in time for him to pay his respects, if he was of a mind to.”

“Adar would have gone in my stead, of that I am certain. Poor Gimli, I wish I could be there for him,” he sighed sadly, silently promising to sing a lament for his friend’s sire when the light of the stars shone at their brightest.

It was several months before Gimli was next seen in Minas Tirith, and he was amazed to see how attached the Elf had become to the young prince, so much so that he tended to spend more time in the city than he did in the forest.

“Have you lost you love for the trees?” he asked his friend one day as they shared the task of keeping Eldarion amused, or more correctly, keeping small fingers away from the source of the child’s amusement…golden hair and dark beard. Neither Elf nor Dwarf appreciated having their pride and joy torn from their heads by the roots, and a so a constant battle waged between them and the enchanting Prince.

“Sadly it seems I am no longer as totally enthralled by birch and oak as I once was, but it is as Lady Galadriel tried to warn me. They still sing to me, but the song is often drowned out by the pounding of waves. Ouch!” Legolas exclaimed as a small hand entangled itself in his hair and tugged hard. “I will not forget your current mischief when I am teaching you archery in the future, sweet prince. I think it wise not to upset your tutor too much,” he warned. Eldarion merely gurgled happily and as if understanding the Elf, he reached out and pulled hard on Gimli’s beard instead.

Legolas indeed proved to be a hard but fair task master on the archery range, and he often reminded Eldarion of his ‘hair pulling’ antics as a babe. Nonetheless, the Elf and the Prince developed a strong and affectionate friendship over the years, much to his parent’s delight. Upon reaching his adulthood, Aragorn allowed Eldarion to travel to Imladris with Legolas, to become better acquainted with his elvish kin who remained there, and to learn more of the history of all his forefathers, Elf and Man alike.

The years passed swiftly, until finally the day arrived when Aragorn paid his final visit to Ithilien. Although his hair was now quite grey, and many lines of age crossed his face, to Legolas he looked as he had the first day they met. The Elf listened with increasing sadness as Aragorn told of his weariness with the world, and his desire to leave before he became a burden on his family and friends.

“I would choose the time of my passing, as is my right,” he told Legolas as they sat at the small haven, and watched their last sunrise together.

“And will you explain to Arwen that I will not travel to Minas Tirith again?” Legolas asked with much sorrow.

“She understands that our farewell is a private matter between you and I, she will not fault you for your absence,” Aragorn assured the Elf.

“Then walk the path we both know you must Aragorn, knowing that you go with my love and affection. You will always have a place in my heart and in my memories,” Legolas said not even attempting to hide his tears of sorrow, nor to dissuade his friend from relinquishing his hold on life. The Elf had always known this day would come and had long ago decided to accept his friend’s decision.

“Your calm acceptance eases my own fears, Legolas. You have ever been my strength, and for that I thank you. Namarie, mellon nin,” whispered Aragorn, as he drew the Elf into a final warm embrace.

“Namarie, King Elessar,” replied Legolas, speaking the formal title that he so rarely used, but that allowed him to place a chaste kiss on his friend’s cheek. With one last shared smile, Aragorn mounted his steed and rode towards his destiny.

Several days later, Legolas was sitting on the wharf, dangling his feet in the water when he almost doubled over with the pain that shot through his heart like an arrow. He took a few moments to catch his breath and was astonished to see Gwael sitting beside him, studying him with his glittering black eyes.

“Your heart aches because King Elessar is no more,” he said with much compassion. “You are no longer bound to stay in Arda, Legolas. Build the ship and sail home.”

“There is still Gimli,” Legolas said shaking his head. "I will not leave him, for he is dear to me as well.”

“Then take him with you, after all he has been given the grace to set foot on shores of the Undying Lands.” Legolas stared at the old man with undisguised astonishment and disbelief.

“Olórin, who you know as Mithrandir sent me to tell you of the Valar’s will. The Lady Galadriel sought their grace on his behalf. Build the ship and come home,” Gwael repeated before he vanished as mysteriously as he appeared. Legolas felt greatly relieved that his longing would soon be nothing more than a distant memory and after he had sung a lament for Aragorn’s passing, he walked back to his talan and took the drawings of the ship that Círdan had given to Tathar from its place on the wall and began making plans.

“You did not attend the King’s funeral,” stated Gimli angrily when he arrived in Ithilien several days later. He and many others, except Arwen and her children had been shocked that the Elf had not been there, and the Dwarf sought an explanation.

“We said our farewell in private, as I had always intended. Arwen knows that I honour him no less because my grief was not on public display,” was all Legolas would say. “Come, Gimli, I have something to show you.” The dwarf followed his friend to the haven where the framework of a small ship was beginning to take shape. “Most of my people have left for Valinor, as you know…”

“Just so, but I need no longer remain here and so am building a ship, for I wish to sail from the forest that has become my home.” Gimli saw the gleam of delight in the Elf’s eyes and grudgingly agreed to assist.

“Aye I will help you but my heart will not be in the task, for as soon as it is finished you will be gone and I admit that I will miss you and all the aggravation you give me,” grumbled the Dwarf.

“How can you possible miss me when we will be sailing together?” asked Legolas with deliberate casualness that was intended to provoke the Dwarf. It worked well.

“What nonsense do you speak, Elf?” demanded Gimli as he stood with his hands on his hips and glared at Legolas.

“The Lady Galadriel has spoken in your favour and you are to be permitted the singular honour of being the only Dwarf in Valinor,” Legolas told his friend.

“Well, at least one Elf has some respect for me, but I do not know if I wish to live in a land where there are none others than Elves,” Gimli declared gruffly although he was secretly pleased at the prospect of living his remaining years with Legolas and the Lady as his neighbours.

“Do you recall declaring that you had more chance of sailing to Valinor than of learning to climb trees?” Legolas asked in a tone of voice that made the Dwarf wary.

“Aye, I believe I uttered words to that effect,” agreed Gimli dreading where this was leading.

“Then the first thing I will do when we reach the Undying Lands is teach you to do so, and I will hear no further excuses!” teased Legolas as he laughed merrily at the Dwarf’s groan of dismay.

Gradually the graceful form of a small swan ship came into being in the haven in the now deserted Ithilien, and as he admired the elegant craft designed by Círdan, Legolas silently thanked Thranduil for the months he and Tathar had been forced to spend learning something of boat building from the River Elves. He marvelled that what had been a punishment so long ago was now a boon, and he wondered if the Valar had played a part in his destiny, just as they had in Gimli’s. Gwael’s assurance that the Dwarf was expected in Valinor still amazed him, and he laughed merrily as he recalled the utter astonishment on Thranduil’s face when he had been informed of the news.

“You must have been dreaming, Legolas! None other than Elves are permitted to walk on the shores of the Blessed Realm,” Thranduil had stated, convinced he was right although he was no lore master.

“I also thought it was a dream at first, borne of my grief on feeling Aragorn’s passing, but Gwael was so insistent that I dare not refuse to do as he says. I am still bound in friendship to Gimli and I cannot describe the joy and the weight that is lifted from my heart knowing he will be sailing with me. My control is all but gone now and if I do not leave soon, I will surely fade.”

“Ai, I see that unhappiness fills your spirit and dulls the shine of your eyes,” admitted Thranduil as he held his arms out, offering his son an affectionate embrace. Legolas moved unhesitatingly into the strong arms, and rested his head on Thranduil’s chest the better to hear the beat of his Adar’s heart.

“Yet there is one thing that would still give me joy,” he said as he stood back and gazed into eyes that were a mirror of his own. Thranduil instinctively knew what his son would ask and allowed him to voice the words even though his reply would be painful for Legolas to hear.

“Please come with me,” implored Legolas as he took his Adar’s hands and kissed them as he had done as a child. Thranduil had never before been able to resist such a desperate plea, but Legolas was no longer a child and would have to accept refusal.

“I am so desperately sorry that I can not sail with you, Legolas. I have ties that bind me here, just as strongly as those you had and I am not ready, nor able to leave just yet. Please understand that it breaks my heart to deny you, but know that I will miss you, and will yearn to be reunited with you and my beloved Elisiel in years to come.”

“I do understand, Adar, but I had to ask, Nana would never have forgiven me had I not,” he said with a hint of amusement.

“Ai, it would not do for you to land on Valinor’s shores only to face your Nana’s wrath,” he agreed. “But I would be wary of her nonetheless my son, for you know how she likes to match make. Elisiel has had plenty of time to prepare a list of elf maidens she deems suitable for marriage.” Legolas could not help but nod his agreement and groan with displeasure at that prospect.

“Perhaps I should reconsider, and let Gimli sail on his own,” he said with mock seriousness. Both Adar and son laughed at the jest that served to relive the emotional strain and allowed them to enjoy their last days together in their normal easy going manner.

Legolas was so lost in the memory of their bittersweet parting that he did not hear Gimli’s approach, and started when the Dwarf shouted his name. His friend had just returned from saying his final farewells to his kin in Aglarond and now both were free to leave.

”Where have you been, Legolas? I have never seen you sleep while standing before,” teased Gimli.

“I was not sleeping, but I can do so whilst standing if I wish,” retorted Legolas.

“Then you were simply ignoring me, I have been trying to attract your attention for several minutes,” grumbled the Dwarf.

“Nay, I was not ignoring you, I was thinking and did not hear you approach!”

“You will never live that admission down, Elf! I can hardly wait to tell Tathar, ‘did not hear me approach’ indeed!” Gimli chuckled wickedly. Legolas sighed but accepted the barb with good humour.

“Then the sooner we finish the ship, the sooner you can see to my embarrassment,” he reminded his friend.

Finally the work was complete, and in the twilight hour, the grey ship bearing the Dwarf and the last Elf from Ithilien sailed gracefully towards the Straight Road, lead by a flock of gulls. None noted their passing or the lone white gull who cried a joyous farewell as he circled the ship once, then winged his way north to comfort the King of Eryn Lasgalen.

A melancholy silence shrouded the two elder Elves as they ceased their wandering and settled beneath the shade of the ancient tree, each lost in their own thoughts yet grateful for the presence of the other. The soft whispering of the rustling leaves that accompanied the vibrant song of the living creatures of the forest had once filled their hearts with joy but was now a bittersweet lament and their eyes met in sorrowful understanding as they mourned for that which had faded. Their love for Arda had diminished even as had the light of those few Elves who refused the call to travel home. Both realised that their time in Middle-earth was at an end, and although it had been hard to watch their loved ones leave over the years, neither had regretted the decision to stay.

“Do you not find it surprising that Ithilien remains green and vibrant even though Legolas and the others have long since left these shores?” Thranduil asked his companion.

“Nay, the forest and the kingdom of which it is part are symbols of the birth of the Age of Men, and upon reflection I suspect the Valar always intended Legolas to be the one to restore it,” Celeborn replied, nodding his head as if he was agreeing with his own thoughts.

“At the beginning of the Quest, Elrond hinted at a greater plan than even he could see, so perhaps you have the right of it, but what of us? Are we to remain here and fade, even as Lothlórien and Greenwood do, or will we also return home, leaving Ithilien as our legacy?” asked Thranduil, broaching the subject that they spoke of most often of late and had yet to resolve.

“We both feel the fading of the strong ties that bound us to this land and the forests we love, that is why I willingly left East Lórien to live in Imladris with my grandsons. I do not miss the trees as much as I imagined I would, and except for you, none of my kin or loved ones remain. Elladan and Elrohir have left for the Havens and I find my heart increasingly yearns for the warmth of my Lady’s arms, and the loving smiles of my family and friends.”

It was the first time Thranduil had admitted how he really felt even to himself and with the simple words came the realisation that he had finally decided to answer the call to come home. Celeborn easily sensed the meaning behind them as well.

“I came to tell you that I have made my choice and thus to bid you farewell, but I see I should be asking you to sail with me. Will you?” Celeborn was surprised to see Thranduil slowly nod his head.

“I would never have believed that you would leave Eryn Lasgalen!” Thranduil laughed softly at the astonishment on his friend’s face.

“Celeborn, for almost three millennia I watched my realm fall to darkness although my brave warriors fought desperately to keep it at bay. Once the Ring was destroyed, returning the forest to its former glory was our victory celebration and I have spent long years delighting in every moment, in every new leaf that grows, in every small creature that has returned to live among the trees. It fills my heart with joy that those who wish never to leave can now dance with carefree abandon under the stars, or roam through the woods, singing and laughing without fear of attack. However, for all the happiness I find in that achievement, there is still emptiness in my spirit that can only be filled by the living presence of the ones I love. I too, need to feel my Lady’s arms once more, to hold her as we see the brilliant smile of the child of our love. Ai, I will sail home with you.”

Immortal Friends by jenolas