13. Wrath

(April)

Thranduil kept his face impassive but his grip on the arms of his chair tightened as Lómilad told him that Nálas and Legolas had not returned from their scouting mission.

"Eilian and the others went looking for them, my lord," he finished, "while I escorted the novices home. We know exactly where Nálas and Legolas were headed, so I do not think we will have to wait long to hear from the search party."

"Thank you, Lómilad," Thranduil told him as coolly as he could.  "You may go."  With a look of sympathy on his face, the novice master bowed and left the king's office.  Thranduil sat still for a moment and let his mind reach out, groping for the bond that tied him to him youngest son and feeling that it was still intact.   Surely he would know if something had happened to Legolas, Thranduil thought.

He wondered if he should disturb Ithilden, who was still helping his own son into the world and decided that he would not do so yet.  Thranduil was beginning to be worried about the length of Alfirin's labor.  Surely this day that should have been so joyful would not turn into a time of despair, he thought.

***

Legolas swam slowly back to foggy consciousness, becoming aware first of the pain in his head.  He tried to bring his hand to the bump on his head and suddenly realized that his wrists were tied behind his back.  He blinked, trying to bring the world into focus again, and his gaze came to rest on a small girl with blond braids, who sat looking at him with wide eyes.  Memory came flooding back, and with it, came a stab of fear that he immediately suppressed.  Get hold of yourself, he chided.

"Hello," said the child. "Are you awake?"

"Hello," said Legolas cautiously.  He looked around.  He and the child seemed to be alone in a small tent of some sort.  He could hear Men moving around outside the tent flap.  He could also hear the uneasy rustle of trees, the sound of forest birds, and something else less familiar – the rustle of long grasses perhaps?  They were still in the woods then, he thought tentatively, but near the edge from which the grasses ran down to the Long Lake.

"My name is Nitha," the child continued.  "What's your name?"

He pulled himself to a sitting position, propped himself against some gear that had been stored in the tent, and waited for the momentary dizziness to clear.  Movement was made difficult by the fact that his feet were tied as well as his hands. He looked at Nitha.  Her hands were tied too, although they were tied in front of her rather than behind, and her feet were untied.  "My name is Legolas," he answered her, struggling to make his tongue work clearly in his dry mouth.

He puzzled over his memories for a moment.  "Nitha," he finally asked, "when I saw you in the forest, was there a wolf threatening you?"

She nodded vigorously.  "He belongs to Karik," she said, with a small tremor in her voice.  "He does what Karik says."

"Who is Karik?" Legolas asked.

"I am Karik," said a deep voice that seemed faintly familiar. Legolas turned his head to find that a Man was standing just inside the tent flap.  From the corner of his eye, Legolas could see Nitha drawing herself into a smaller bundle. Karik plainly frightened her.

The Man had a faintly foreign look about him.  He was short but strong looking, with dark hair and eyes, and he was elegantly dressed in grey trousers and tunic that were trimmed with bands of red and gold.  He wore boots and spurs and carried a riding whip.  Legolas noted the spurs and the whip and his lip curled in scorn.  No Elf would ever use anything so cruel on a horse; no Elf would need to.  At that moment, he remembered where he had heard the Man's voice before. This was the Man who had instructed someone else to knock him out when he had come to Nitha's aid in the forest.

"And just what are you sneering at, son of Thranduil?" Karik asked unpleasantly.  Legolas looked at him sharply.  "Ah, yes," Karik smiled, "I know who you are. My men and I have been keeping an eye on you for some time."  A chill ran down Legolas's spine at the idea that this Man had been spying on him, but he made his face impassive and allowed his eyes to narrow in a deliberate imitation of his father at his most intimidating.

Karik studied him.  "Are you thirsty?" he asked abruptly.  Legolas hesitated and then nodded stiffly.  Karik smiled and reached for a water skin that hung on a hook on one of the tent supports.  He opened it and brought it close to Legolas's lips.  "Ask me nicely for a drink of water," Karik demanded.

Legolas froze and then straightened his spine.  In some way that he did not yet understand, he thought, he was here not randomly, but because he was a son of the king of the Woodland Realm.  He needed to be his father's representative.  He would not beg for water.  He stared into the Man's eyes with the full force of his Elven gaze and was intensely satisfied when Karik looked away.  He was less satisfied when Karik went first to give a drink of water to Nitha, who drank obediently without meeting Karik's eyes, and then carefully closed the water skin and hung it back on its hook.

"We will try again later," he said.  "I suggest you rest, son of Thranduil.  We will be moving across the lake as soon as it is dark."  And he left the tent.

Legolas let his head fall back on the gear against which he was leaning.  What was he doing here? he wondered desperately.  What did this Man want with him?  Whatever it was could not bode well for the Woodland Realm or there would be no need to hold him hostage.  His thigh twinged, reminding him that an arrow had sliced through the edge of it.  He could not examine the wound now, with his hands tied behind his back, but while he was unconscious, someone had evidently cleaned and bandaged it. The tight itchiness of it suggested that it was already starting to heal, so it could not have been very deep.

"Are you thirsty?" Nitha asked.  Legolas started. He had forgotten the child's presence.  He looked at her.  "I think I can reach the water skin," she said, regarding him seriously.

He blinked and then gave her a slow smile.  "I am rather thirsty," he admitted.  She struggled to her feet and then stood on tiptoe to lift the water skin carefully down from its hook with her bound hands.  She turned to him triumphantly.

"I have been growing," she chirped as she came toward him.  "My daddy says I am going to be tall."  She stopped in front of him and held the skin cradled in one arm as she opened it.  Then she held it to his lips and tilted it carefully.  He could not remember when water had ever tasted so good.

"Thank you," he said in genuine gratitude.  She nodded solemnly, closed the skin, and carried it back to its hook.  For a moment, he thought she was not going to be able to get the strap to catch over the hook, but she persisted and, at last, it hung where the Man had left it.  Then she came to sit down next to him.

"It will be best if I sit near you, so you are not frightened," she said, leading Legolas to smother a smile.

"How did you come to be here, Nitha?" he asked.  "Where do you come from?"

"I come from Esgaroth," she said.  "I was playing outside and nasty Emborik came and grabbed me.  He is one of Karik's men," she informed Legolas.  "I saw him when they came to visit my daddy before."  He could feel her shudder slightly and slide a little closer to him.

"And who is your daddy?" Legolas asked.

"My daddy is the president of the trade council in Esgaroth," she said with some pride. "He is very important."

Legolas suddenly saw a pattern in the puzzling actions of these Men.  He had heard his father and brothers talking about the Easterling who had been in the woods, and he had met Beam and knew why he had come to Thranduil's halls.

"By any chance did your daddy call Karik an Easterling?" he asked the child and was not surprised when she nodded in response. Now he could see only too clearly why the Man might find it useful to have in his keeping the daughter of the Esgaroth trade council's president and the son of the king of the Woodland Realm.

Karik could not be allowed to carry out his plan for Esgaroth and the Woodland Realm, Legolas thought, whatever that plan might be.  Legolas must not be the means by which harm was done his father's realm or the subject of a painful choice on Thranduil's part.  He had a clear obligation and that was to escape and take Nitha with him, and he needed to do it soon, before the Men took them across the Long Lake.  If he could get free and carry information home, his brothers would take care of Karik and his men. This last thought gave him profound satisfaction. He could almost feel sorry for Karik. Almost, but not quite.

***

Ithilden wrapped his arms around Alfirin, cradled her back against his chest, and sang softly into her ear as her body arched in yet another contraction.  The song was meant to hold at bay his own fear, hers, and the baby's as the three of them labored together, but he did not know how much longer he was going to be able to stay in harmony with the song of Arda, and he could feel that Alfirin, too, was on the verge of sliding away into chaos.

"Alfirin," his mother-in-law's voice started him from his concentration on his wife and child.  "You must listen to me.  You, too, Ithilden," she added fixing him with her serious healer's gaze.

Alfirin stirred and fixed her eyes on her mother.  "What is it, Naneth?" she asked, fear in her voice. "Is something wrong?"

"Not really," her mother answered, "but there is something you must do. The baby is lying in such a way that he cannot easily leave your womb."

Ithilden felt his heart contract.  This then was the reason for Alfirin's unusually long labor.  "What must we do?" he demanded.

"With your help, Alfirin must turn the baby," his mother-in-law said.  "And you must do it now before all three of you are too tired."

Alfirin clutched at his hands spread over her abdomen. "How?" she asked despairingly.

"Use your communion with your son," her mother told her, "and your mind's control of your body."  She smiled reassuringly at her daughter.  "Coax and nudge the little one into doing what he should.  It will be practice for dealing with him after he is born."

"Come, love," he murmured into Alfirin's ear.  "We can do this."  And the two of them began to slip even more deeply into the bond they already felt with this small son.

***

Thranduil froze in place and stared at Siondel, who had just finished telling him what the search party had found.  Then he strode to the door of his office and summoned the attendant there. "Go and see if Ithilden is able to come to me," he ordered, and then turned back to Siondel.

"So Legolas was taken, but Nálas was not?" he confirmed, and Siondel nodded unhappily.  Thranduil paced once across the room and then turned again. "Does that mean they know who he is?" he wondered.  "And who could this human child have been?"  He did not mention the blood that Eilian had found, but the thought of it hovered on the edge of everything he said.

The attendant returned. "My lord," he said, "the midwife says that Ithilden cannot come."  Thranduil paused again and then pushed worry over the birth of his grandchild aside as something he could do nothing about.

"Are Beam and the other Men from Esgaroth still here?" he asked, and at the attendant's nod, he ordered, "Send them to me." He turned to Siondel.  "I want a party of warriors, as many as you can assemble, ready to ride to Eilian's aid within half an hour," he ordered. 

"Yes, my lord," Siondel bowed and hurried out of the room to carry out his instructions.

Thranduil stood with his hand on the mantelpiece, staring into the unlit fireplace.   Legolas was in danger, and Ithilden was not going to be able to lead the war party he intended to send after him.  He knew that he could probably trust Eilian to captain the warriors, but in his heart, he did not want to leave it to Eilian to wreak vengeance on the Men who had taken his child.  He wanted to do it himself.

Ordinarily, he would not have considered riding out with a war party.  He was king and that meant that he had no right to risk himself.   But Ithilden was his heir and he was here, safe at the palace.  The Woodland Realm would not be left leaderless if he went and did not return.  But he would return, he vowed, because he would succeed in finding and destroying the Men who had dared to lay a finger on his youngest son.

A perfunctory knock on the door sounded and the attendant ushered in Beam and his two warriors, who bowed in greeting.  "My lord," said Beam.

"I have heard from Eilian," Thranduil began without preface.  "He has seen signs of Men who, I assume, are the Easterlings you tracked.  They have taken Legolas captive."  The three Men blinked at him.  "Moreover," Thranduil went on, "they appear to have a human child with them.  The warrior bringing the message tells me the child was small."

The Men stirred.  "Beam," one of them murmured, "do you suppose it is the council president's daughter?"

Beam looked at Thranduil.  "A child was missing from Esgaroth the day we left," he said.  "A search was in progress.  Her parents thought she might have been hurt or become lost."

Thranduil nodded.  "Perhaps this is she," he said briefly.

Another brief knock sounded and the attendant entered again.  "My lord," he said, "warriors from the Border Patrol are here with a herald who says he has a message for you."

Thranduil stiffened.  "Send them in," he bid, and two Elven warriors entered, with a human herald between them wearing red, grey, and gold livery that Thranduil had not seen before. They all bowed.  "Speak," Thranduil ordered the Man.

"My lord," the herald began, giving a quick glance at Beam and his companions, "I bring a message from Karik of Rhûn."  He paused and Thranduil nodded impatiently to signal that he might go on with his message.  "My master bids me to tell you that your youngest son is now his guest.  He means harm neither to him nor to you.  However, he has taken this means to assure himself that you will keep the forces of the Woodland Realm away from the business in which he seeks to engage at Esgaroth."

Rage rose up in Thranduil's throat and threatened to choke him, and he could see Beam stiffening.

"My master does not believe that you would wish to trouble yourself with the affairs of Men," the herald went on.  "If his belief should prove correct, and you stay content within the boundaries and business of your own Realm, no harm will come to your son, and he will, in time, be returned to you with my master's good will."

Thranduil stood stock still for a moment, struggling to be certain that when he moved, he would not strike this messenger dead where he stood.  By all customs, heralds came and went in safety. Moreover, while killing this messenger would be satisfying, it would not help him regain his son.

The messenger was shifting nervously under the king's hooded gaze.  "You may go," Thranduil finally told him.

He hesitated and then asked, "Have you a message for me to take to my master, my lord?

"You may tell him," Thranduil spat, "that the Elves of the Woodland Realm know well how to value the good will of Men like your master.  You may also tell him that Elves value their children beyond measure."

The herald stood for a moment uncertainly and then bowed and took his leave.  Thranduil called back one of the warriors escorting him.  "Follow him," he ordered, although he did not have much hope that the Man would lead them anywhere important. The Elf nodded and left.

The room was silent.  Finally Beam asked neutrally, "What will you do, my lord?"

"Do?" Thanduil exclaimed.  "What I will do is ride out from here in five minutes with enough warriors to crush them like insects into the dust of Arda.  When I am through with them, they will not be able to threaten a nest of robins.  And then," he added with satisfaction, "I will make them pay for whatever harm they have done my son."

Beam's eyes gleamed.  "My lord," he said, "it would be an honor to ride with you."

Thranduil scanned him imperiously.  "Very well," he said. "Come."  And he swept from the room, malevolent energy flowing from him like lightening from a summer storm.

***

Outside the tent, Legolas could hear a wolf howling.  He assumed it was the wolf that belonged to Karik and, indeed, almost immediately he heard the Man call sharply to the animal.  It sounded as if Karik were right outside the tent.  Nitha edged toward him until she was up against him.

He could feel the small warm body trembling slightly against his side.  "Do not be afraid," he said soothingly, although, in his heart, he thought she had good reason to be frightened.

"I am not afraid," she declared stoutly.  "But I wish my daddy would come now."

Legolas smiled faintly at her. "Your daddy will be very proud of how brave you have been," he told her and was rewarded by seeing the small face lighten a little.

"My daddy will be very angry with them," she affirmed.

"Mine too," Legolas agreed companionably.

She smiled at him, revealing a large gap in her front teeth.  "But you are all grown up!" she exclaimed.

His smile broadened.  "I think so," he agreed, "but my 'daddy' does not." She laughed, apparently finding his father's misconception amusing.

He watched as she raised her bound hands to brush a wisp of hair from her face.  "Nitha," he asked suddenly, "do you think that you could untie my hands?"   She looked at him questioningly, and he wiggled around so that his back was toward her.  "You see the knot?" he asked.  "Can you untie it?"

"It is a very big knot," she said doubtfully, but he felt small fingers begin to poke and tug at the thick rope around his wrists.  He heard her sigh in frustration.  "It it too tight!" she exclaimed unhappily.

"Keep at it. You can do it," he urged, although he was beginning to doubt that she could. Suddenly, his ears picked up the sound of someone approaching the tent.  "Move away," he whispered urgently, wriggling frantically to put some distance between them, but she was too startled to react and was still close behind with her arms outstretched toward him when the flap lifted and Karik entered.

With one glance, the Man took in the situation.  "What's this?" he asked menacingly, advancing toward the child.  "Have you been being naughty, Nitha?"   And to Legolas's horror, he raised the riding whip.

"No," he shouted, launching himself as best he could at Karik's legs, knocking them out from under him.  The Man came up with a roar of anger, and seized Legolas by the hair on the back of his head.  He gasped at the pain and was distracted from what the Man was doing until he felt cold air on his back and realized that Karik had used a knife to cut away his soft leather tunic and silk undertunic.  Suddenly he felt something strike across his back, leaving a trail that first felt numb and then burst into flame.  He twisted away as the Man raised the whip and brought it down a half dozen times more, leaving him gasping and then clenching his teeth lest a cry of pain escape.

Karik stopped and stood over him panting. Legolas became aware that Nitha was sobbing hysterically.  "Don't hurt him," she pleaded.  The Man ignored her.

"Do not ever touch me again," Karik snarled.  "If you ever do, I will punish the girl."  He used his hold on Legolas's hair to turn the Elf's head painfully to face him.  "Do you understand?"  When Legolas hesitated, he tightened his grip and shook him. "Do you understand?" he insisted.

Unable to nod with the Man's grip in his hair, Legolas could only gasp, "Yes."

The Man dropped him and then moved toward Nitha.  For a heart stopping moment, Legolas thought he was going to strike her, and so did she, for she flinched away, and her crying was choked into whimpers of terror.  Instead, however, Karik seized her and dragged her back to where she had been sitting near one of the poles of the tent.  Ignoring her pathetic protests, he reached for a coil of rope, which he tied first around her waist and then around the tent pole.  "That should remove the temptation to wander," he said grimly when he had finished.

He scanned both of them and then brought his gaze to rest on Legolas. "I had thought you might be thirsty enough to be polite by now," he said, "but I see I was mistaken.  Waiting until dark to quench your thirst will not hurt you at all.  You need to learn that I am your master here and you will obey me."  He glanced at them both one more time and then left the tent.

Legolas lay limply, listening to Nitha's cries but, for the moment, too shocked by the beating to respond. "Legolas," Nitha was calling, "are you all right?"  He had to pull himself together, he thought.  He moved and then flinched at the searing agony that the movement caused in his back. Suddenly he remembered Maldor, the unarmed combat master, telling the novices, "It is only pain."  Indeed, he thought, somewhat dryly, and drew a deep breath.

"I am all right," he told Nitha, with his voice steady, and she seemed to be comforted for her sobs diminished and then stopped and he could hear her breathing shakily.  He lay for another moment, gathering the strength he would need to drag himself to a sitting position, and as he lay, his eyes drifted across the pile of gear in the corner and settled on a pair of sharp, wicked-looking spurs.   Suddenly, his mind snapped to attention.  What a fool I am, he thought, and began to inch toward the spurs.

***

Eilian bent over the marks in the forest floor, trying to read what they had to tell him about the direction in which Legolas had been taken.  He straightened up, and for at least the tenth time, shoved fear to the back of his mind so that he could continue to concentrate on the task before him.  A short distance back, the group of six or so that he thought had taken his brother had split up.  Most of the horses had gone south, leaving four Men on foot and one rider continuing on northeast.  He had had to decide which group was the one holding Legolas, for with only three warriors with him, he could not follow both.  The trees had been no help because they had been restless in all directions. He had chosen to pursue the Men on foot, for to him, it looked as if most of the horses going south had been riderless, and he believed that for some reason, the animals were being taken away.  If he had chosen the wrong path, he worried, he could be too late in reaching his younger brother.

"Someone comes," said the warrior standing behind him, and Eilian's ears confirmed what the warrior told him.  A group of perhaps half a dozen riders was approaching cautiously from the northeast.  Eilian and the three warriors with him were instantly into the trees and out of sight, leaving only a whisper of leaves behind them, but even as they took shelter, Eilian realized that the approaching riders were Elves.  He waited and one of the Border Patrols rode into sight and stopped. They know we are here, Eilian thought, and are waiting for us to recognize them. Good.  I have something to say to these border guards.  He dropped to the ground and stalked toward the patrol.

"Captain," nodded their leader, sliding from his horse.  Eilian recognized Belendil, a lieutenant for whom he had a fair amount of respect.

"Lieutenant," he answered crisply.  "Where has your patrol been for the last three days?"

Belendil straightened.  "We have been scouting the eastern edge of the forest," he said, apparently aware that Eilian was angry about something, and, as it turned out, having a pretty good idea what it was. "This morning, we found signs that a dozen or so Men had entered the woods about eight miles south of the Forest River.  I am sorry that we did not find the signs sooner, but we pass that spot only every three days."

Somewhat mollified, Eilian asked, "What are you doing here?"

"We have been trying to locate the Men," Belendil told him. "We think we have found their camp but it is on the edge of the woods and we were circling around it to see if we could approach closer from the forest side."

Eilian's heart began to pound.  "You know where their camp is?" he asked sharply.

Belendil nodded. "We think so," he said.  "We had intended to confirm its location and then try to find out if they were friendly."

"Show me where it is," said Eilian.  "And be cautious when you do so, for these Men are not friendly.  They have taken my younger brother captive."

Belendil blinked, suddenly aware that this scouting mission was fraught with dangers. "I suggest that you and I advance on foot, Captain," he said.  "We will learn what we can and not alert them to our presence."

Eilian nodded.  He was on foot anyway.  "Send one of your warriors at all speed toward the palace," he added. "I have already sent a message asking Ithilden to send more warriors, and they are probably on their way here by now.  Have your warrior look for them and tell them where to come."  Belendil rushed to do as he had been told and then returned.

Eilian signaled him forward and the two of them took to the trees.   They had gone perhaps a league when Belendil raised his hand to signal that they had reached the area in which he and his patrol thought the Men were camped, and they crept forward.  Eilian peered cautiously through the branches.  A group of Men were camped a short distance inside the eastern edge of the forest.  Eilian counted an even dozen Men, quietly dozing in the shade or tending their equipment. To his satisfaction, the Men appeared to be swordsmen rather than archer, for he saw no bows.  There was only one horse, tethered near the northern end of the camp.  Judging by the elaborate tack, Elian assumed the animal belonged to the group's leader.

At one end of the camp stood a low tent with a guard in front.  Eilian eyed it in frustration, for he was as certain as he could be that Legolas was inside that tent, and he knew that for now, he would have to leave him there.  Then his eyes were drawn to a grey shape lying quietly near the tent.  He drew in his breath quietly as he realized that the animal was a wolf.  At least that explained some of the marks the Elves had seen at the place where Legolas was captured, he thought, already planning how he and his warriors would contend with the wolf as well as these Men.

At that moment, the tent flap opened, and a Man came out.  The hair on the back of Eilian's neck rose, and for reasons he could not explain, he hated this Man on sight.  Judging by the way the guard snapped to attention, Eilian assumed he was in charge.  He studied the Man, whose face was flushed as if from exertion.  The Man strode across the camp to where two others were eating, flung the riding whip he was carrying to one side, and dropped to his haunches to accept the food that one of the others was offering.  Eilian focused on their conversation as best he could from this distance.

"Have you taught the Elf who is master yet, Karik?" asked the underling.

"I doubt very much if that is the last time I will need to do it," the leader said and then bit angrily into his bread and fell silent.

Having seen enough, Eilian reluctantly tapped Belendil's arm and indicated that they should withdraw.  The two of them returned to where Belendil's patrol and Eilian's three companions waited for them.  Eilian called them together and described what he and Belendil had seen in the camp.

"We will go through the trees as silently as we can and surprise them," he said.  He indicated two of his own warriors. "You two shoot the wolf immediately. We do not want to have to contend with it when we have to take to the ground to go into the tent."  He turned to Belendil.  "Wait with one of your warriors until the wolf is dead. Then take out the guard and get Legolas out of the tent.  We found blood at the place where he was taken, so he is probably wounded and may not be able to walk.  Whatever else is happening, you need to get him away."

Belendil nodded.  "You can count on us," he assured Eilian, who had been sorely tempted to take on this task himself but had decided that he decided that he needed to oversee the attack and had, moreover, chosen another special charge as his own.

"I will see to it that their leader does not get away," he said grimly. He looked around. "Does everyone understand?" he asked and received nods of affirmation. "Good.  Come then. We have left these Men alone for long enough." And he and the other warriors leapt into the branches and began to move forward toward the clearing in which the camp stood.

***

Legolas gasped in relief as the sharp spur cut through the last bit of rope binding his wrists. He wasted no time in untying at the rope on his ankles, ignoring the pain in his hands and wrists caused both by returning circulation and the cuts he had not been able to avoid inflicting on himself as he fumbled blindly with the spur.  Nitha watched him, wide-eyed.

He jumped to his feet and limped toward her, willing his cramped legs back to life.  The long hours of being tied up had left him momentarily clumsy.  "You have to be very quiet," he urged her as he untied her.  "And you have to hang on tight to me." She nodded solemnly, and he hoped she understood the urgency of his instructions because if this attempt at escape failed, he was not sure they would get another chance.  It was late in the day and once he and Nitha had been moved across the lake, it would be much harder to get to safety.

"Your back is bleeding," she said in a very small voice.  He grimaced and then searched through the gear until he found a reasonably soft tunic that he slid over his head, grateful for the fact that it fit loosely.

He reached for the spur again and, in the fabric at the back of the tent, he sliced a small hole through which he peered carefully.  His ears had told him there were no Men in that direction, but he did not intend to be caught off guard again, as he had been when he was captured.  He saw no one, so he used the spur to enlarge the opening and then turned and motioned to Nitha.  She crept to his side and put her hand trustingly in his.  He smiled encouragingly at her, drew a deep breath, and then ducked through the hole and, ignoring the pain in his back and left thigh, he sprinted for the trees, pulling her behind him.

They were halfway across the grassy area behind the tent when a movement to his left caught his eye.  He glanced over to see the grey form of Karik's pet wolf speeding silently through the grass toward them.  Nitha stumbled and he could feel her fear.  Desperately, he swept his arm around her waist, gathered her to him, and took a great leap, landing precariously on the lowest limb of an oak and then scrambling higher with the wolf's hot breath on his ankles.  Nitha had buried her face in his shoulder and had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, but she had made no noise and, thankfully, neither had the wolf.  If no one had seen it, their escape might yet remain undetected for a while.

In the meantime, he set about the business of moving through the trees as quickly as he could with the child in his arm. She had lifted her face from his shoulder and was watching with dazed excitement as they swept through the tree tops.  "You were very brave," he told her.  "I could not have asked for a braver partner in escape."  She smiled her gap-toothed smile at him in answer.

They had been moving for only a brief while before he heard horses ahead. He stopped and moved into the deepest leaf cover he could find but had only just reached shelter before his ears told him that most of the approaching horses were using no tack and thus that the riders were probably Elves.  It was probably one of his brothers, he thought in excitement.  He dropped lower through the branches again and was on the ground in time to see his father come riding rapidly through the trees at the head of a large group of warriors.  He blinked in surprise. In all of his young life, he never remembered seeing his father ride out with a war party.

***

For a brief instant, Thranduil thought that his eyes were deceiving him and that the figure in front of him had been created by his own wishes.  But then he raised his hand, stopping the war party in a flurry of hooves, and was on the ground before his stallion had come to a full halt.  At his approach, Legolas set the child he had been carrying down onto her feet, and from the corner of his eyes, Thranduil could see her running toward Beam.

"I helped Legolas escape," she was telling him, "and he said I was very brave."

But her talk slipped past Thranduil and he had no thought for anyone but Legolas.  He unabashedly flung his arms around his son and grasped him tight.  But his relief was tempered when he felt Legolas flinch and heard him draw his breath in sharply.  "What is it?" he demanded.

"It is nothing," Legolas protested. But Thranduil had already untied the lacings at the neck of the tunic that he now realized was unfamiliar.  He dragged the garment away from his son's shoulders, expecting to see some sort of wound and then stared in shock at the ends of the angry welts he could see slanting down across his son's back and disappearing under his tunic.  He said nothing, but he stiffened and his awareness of everything else fell away as all of his attention focused on the desire to hold these Men in his own hands and hurt them.  They had beaten his child.  He would make them pay dearly, and then he would kill them.

"Adar?" Legolas said uncertainly, evidently reacting to something unfamiliar in his father's manner. Looking embarrassed, his son pulled away and shrugged his tunic back into place, being more careful than he should ever have had to be, Thranduil thought, to avoid scraping the garment over his back.  And then their Elven ears picked up the sound of battle from up ahead.

Thranduil turned toward Beam.  "Get the child out of here," he ordered.  "Eilian and his warriors have engaged them. We will go and join him."  He turned back toward his horse.

"It will be faster to go through the trees, Adar," Legolas told him.  "The forest is too thick for horses on this side of the Men's camp."

"I want to stay with Legolas," the little girl was protesting as Beam handed her up to one of his warriors still on horseback.

Thranduil hesitated. By rights, he should send Legolas too out of harm's way.  He was not yet a warrior, and it would be irresponsible to take him into battle.  But he found he was deeply reluctant to let his youngest son out of his sight.  Legolas touched him lightly on the arm.  "Please do not send me away, Adar," he said in a low voice.

"Legolas would not let Karik hit me," the child was telling Beam, "and then Karik hit him."

Thranduil looked into his son's earnest young face. Perhaps Legolas had earned the right to come with them, he thought.  "Very well," he said. "Beam, will you loan my son your bow and arrows?"  The Man trotted toward them, removing his quiver as he came. He handed them to Legolas.  Thranduil turned to his son again. "Stay near me and do not leave the trees. Do you understand?"  Legolas nodded eagerly as he strapped on Beam's quiver and tested his bow.  "Then come," Thranduil ordered, signaling that his warriors too should follow him.  And the Elves were all off their horses and into the trees, following their ears toward the battle.

***

Eilian searched through the chaos of Men and Elves beneath him, trying to find the Man he had identified as their leader when he and Belendil had scouted the camp, the one that they called Karik.  He and his warriors had taken these Men totally unaware and sent feathered death raining down upon them.  The Men had scattered, and the Elves had been drawn from the trees to dig their enemies from hiding places with swords and pursue them into the grassland beyond the edge of the woods.  But not everything had gone as planned, for Belendil had already signaled that the tent was empty, which he could only hope meant that Legolas had escaped and not that the Men had moved him elsewhere.  And he had so far failed at his own task of making sure that the leader of these Easterlings did not escape.

Suddenly, he caught sight of the Man he sought. Somehow, Karik had made his way through the chaos to where the horse was tethered.  Eilian's heart caught in his throat. If this Man got on horseback and into the grassland, there would be no catching him, and the animal was at a very awkward angle to Eilian's left, making a bow shot almost impossible. Shouldering his bow, he raced through the trees towards the horse and got there just as Karik had mounted and was digging his heels into the animal's sides.  Gathering his legs for the leap, he flew from the branch on which he stood, pulling the Man off his horse and landing on the ground in a tangled, rolling heap of legs and swords.

They came to a stop with Eilian on top, drawing his sword back awkwardly at the close distance.  Karik clutched at Eilian's wrist, keeping the sword at bay, while he struggled to push the Elf off him.  His gaze flickered past Eilian, and suddenly, from the corner of his eye, Eilian saw a raised sword flashing as a Man came to the aid of his leader.  He ducked hastily to one side, raising own sword a second too late to parry the blow.  But the sword did not fall, for the Man abruptly jerked, dropped his weapon, and crumpled to the ground with an arrow in his back.  Eilian had time to glance for only a second in the direction from which the arrow had come and to register the unexpected fact that it was Legolas, standing in a beech tree, who had fired it.

Then Karik was on top of him, shoving him violently and striking his head against a tree root, momentarily stunning him.  With a triumphant look on his face, Karik raised his own sword and pointed it at Eilian's throat.  Then someone roared up behind the Man, straddling Eilian's legs.  The newcomer grasped Karik by the hair, pulled his head back, and, without a second's hesitation, used an ornate knife to slit his throat.  Eilian flinched away from the shower of blood, and his rescuer pulled Karik's body off him and tossed it aside.  He looked up into the chillingly fierce face of his father.  For a moment, they froze with their eyes locked. Then Thranduil reached a hand to pull him to his feet, and they both spun to see where they were needed on the battlefield.

Belendil approached, panting.  "We think one or two may have gotten away toward the lake, my lord," he addressed Thranduil.  "There are two boats hidden in the grass down there.  My warriors have gone after them."

Eilian drew a deep breath and sheathed his sword.  The battle was over then.  He looked back toward the beech tree where he had seen Legolas a moment before and found his younger brother staring at their father with something like shock on his face.  Thranduil had turned too and was beckoning his youngest son toward them.  Legolas jumped lightly to the ground and approached, looking now at the gore that covered Eilian's chest and was probably splashed on his face.  He was pale but composed and determined looking.

Thranduil's eyes were still hooded as he nudged Karik's body with his foot.  "This is the one who beat you, is it not?"  Eilian started at the question, but Legolas nodded, and Thranduil's face relaxed slightly.  "He will not do so again," said Thranduil with obvious satisfaction.

Eilian looked at Legolas's stricken face. There was no glamour in what his little brother had just witnessed.  Moreover, while he had probably believed that he had seen their father angry, Eilian knew that Legolas had never before seen him at his most wrathful.  The knowledge that the wrath had been provoked by the threat of harm to Legolas and Eilian would undoubtedly take some struggling to understand.  "I see you did not need rescuing, brat," he said lightly, and Legolas gave him a glance that spoke of gratitude for the small piece of normality in the lovingly mocking nickname.

Thranduil put his arm lightly around Legolas's shoulders.  "We will go home," he said.  "My grandson is almost here."

***

"One more push, Alfirin," crooned her mother.  "Just one more."

Ithilden let every bit of strength he possessed flow across their bond into the body of his exhausted wife.  He could feel her drawing on him and concentrating on the baby, who was now so close to being born.  With a last surge of effort, she pushed and suddenly, the long hours of labor were over.

Her mother caught and lifted the small, perfect form that was now separate from Alfirin and him but eternally bonded to them.  In the palace of the Woodland King, a baby cried for the first time in over forty years.  And his parent wept tears of joy for the life they had been given.