I am not sure if you people remember but I had forgotten that I had used the name Erutunín before – as Morion’s replacement in Chapter 22. Since I wanted this Erutunín to have met Legolas for the first time I am going to change the name in Ch 22. It should not make a difference to the story but I thought I’d mention it for continuity.

Chapter 48 - Sparring

“You do realise that your pacing will not make him recover any sooner,” Faelon observed, casually sprawled over a blanket provided by the surviving villagers. His entire body ached from the battle, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was a fool. He could have become a cook or a gardener – anything. But no, he had to serve with his Prince. A Prince who was notoriously difficult.

Legolas stopped his pacing to glare at Faelon and then started back again, “I need to know if he – and the other Avari – have recovered.”

“What does that have to do with your pacing, my Lord? You should be resting.”

“I do not see the Avari resting.” It was true – juvenile, but true – the Avari had removed themselves from the village centre in order to take up one corner, near the exit. There, they tended to their wounded and rested – supposedly. Despite their gruelling fight, they still maintained a scout and an advance guard. It was a token guard at best, since most of the Avari were obviously dead on their feet – but a guard to keep the Eldar away nonetheless. Legolas had ordered his troops to give the Avari the space they needed.

“Yes, well I would not consider the Avari to be the best guides on conduct. Stupid elves.” Despite Faelon’s tough words, his words had a grudging admiration in them. The Avari had fought long and hard – if they had not been there the casualties would have been terrible. They had saved the Wood-elves today, and that could not help but endear them to Faelon.

Legolas stopped to look at his Lieutenant, “I cannot help but worry. It is not every day an elf collapses into your arms. Especially one who was, a few minutes before, talking to you.”

“They take stoicism to new depths, do they not?”

“Yes,” Legolas almost snarled the word. His agitation grew with every passing minute. He was concerned about the villagers and how they would rebuild. He had to report to his father, and he knew that this news would cause him even more stress, which did not sit well with Legolas. And then, there was an interrogation of the orc they had captured. One more concern, one more worry, one more headache. Legolas wondered why his head not exploded by now. As if this all was not enough there was an unknown feeling knowing in his heart – a feeling he did not want to put a name to.

“My Lord, are you sure it is the Captain you are so worried about?”

“Explain.”

“I know that Princess Rhinure is now well. I also know how you were – are worried about her. But, my Lord, this Captain is not the Princess.”

“I am well aware of that, Lieutenant.” Legolas’ voice was cold, he really did not want to talk about this. However, it did not surprise him that Faelon ignored the warning.

“I am sure she is well.”

Legolas turned to face Faelon – eyes suspiciously haunted, “You cannot be certain about that. You cannot know if she, too, is lying somewhere exhausted, perhaps even wounded.”

“And neither can you. By worrying about it you cannot change anything and you only harm yourself.”

“I almost lost her!”

“She can take care of herself. You will not lose her.”

“The Avari are reckless. If she leads them …”

“Then the orcs should worry, not you.”

Legolas smiled at Faelon’s attempt to lighten the mood but he could not get the picture of Rhinure out of his head – Rhinure lying on the ground, bleeding, dying. Legolas shook his head; these fatalistic thoughts were not helping. He was upsetting himself and Faelon unnecessarily. Rhinure could take care of herself – he hoped. Still, Legolas vowed to hunt down and kill every orc in creation so that she would not get the chance to validate that hope.

“Come, Faelon. Let us go check on our Captain – again.”

Faelon gladly followed his Prince – relieved that he was not married. Wives caused too much trouble.

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

A fair face swam in front of Erutunín. He frowned, he had not thought himself so tired as to be hallucinating. The face in front of him glowed with this golden light – bright, pretty. Like a moth to a flame, Erutunín’s hands came up to clutch at the light.

Legolas jerked his head back as the Avari’s hand came up to clutch at his hair. “I see our Captain is awake, if not conscious.”

The Avari she-elf who had led them to the Captain, made a mumbling sound. Legolas could not make out what she said, but it sounded suspiciously like, “Stupid male.” He was not sure which stupid male she was referring to.

Tinawiel bent down to shake Erutunín, “Wake up, damadji. The Prince wants to speak to you.” (Son-in-law)

Erutunín swatted at the hand, determined to go back to sleep. He was so tired but someone would not stop shaking him. Finally, he had enough. With a speed that startled Legolas, Erutunín caught Tinawiel’s hand. “Enough, sassooji. I am awake. What do you want?” (Mother-in-law)

“I do not want anything. But the Prince is waiting to see you.”

That woke Erutunín up fully. He raised himself so that he could look carefully at Legolas. “Yes?”

“I am Prince Legolas Thranduilion.”

Silence. Erutunín looked at the Prince questioningly. Did that statement require a response?

“And you are?”

“I am Captain Erutunín.”

“I am pleased to have met you, Captain. Are you feeling better now?”

Erutunín was confused – the Prince seemed genuinely concerned about him. But why? Erutunín automatically answered, Avari composure coming to his rescue, “I am fine now. It was just fatigue. A few more hours of rest and we will be ready to leave.”

Legolas frowned, “Leave? Are you certain that is wise? Your company is exhausted, as are you. You should not be travelling.”

Erutunín could have taken that comment as a slur on his ability and concern for his elves but the Prince did not mean to be offensive. Erutunín was certain of that – the anxiety that boiled out of Legolas could not be faked. It was overwhelming; Erutunín was uncertain how to respond to it. It was like being hit by a huge fist and it left him more exhausted than the battle. He wondered how Mistress handled this onslaught of emotions. “We will leave as soon as we are able. Be assured that I would never unnecessarily endanger my company.”

“I did not mean to imply that you would. I was expressing my concern and my invitation for you to stay as long as you wish.”

Erutunín blinked and said slowly, “Thank you.” He could not help adding, “But we will leave as soon as possible.”

Legolas smiled and crossed his arms, “Would you be willing to answer a question of mine?”

Erutunín immediately stiffened. What did the Prince want of him? Túrgwaith had advised them to remain on their guard against these elves. He answered cautiously, “What did you want of me?”

“I was wondering if you could tell me if all Avari are as stubborn as you and Rhinure.”

Erutunín raised his eyebrow at the Prince’s use of his Mistress’ name. He wondered if the Eldar realised what familiarity that displayed. Only lovers used each other’s name – only lovers had that right and that privilege. But considering the warmth with which he spoke her name, Erutunín figured that Legolas knew what he was doing.

“After deep consideration, my Lord, I would have to say – yes, we are. In fact, I believe that Mistress Rhinure is most reasonable by Avari standards.”

Legolas could not help but laugh at that statement. Erutunín tilted his head – slightly confused at what the Prince found so amusing. He was being most serious.

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

After having reassured himself that Erutunín was recovering satisfactorily Legolas left the confused Avari Captain behind. Erutunín was not sure how to react to Mistress’ husband or his elves. He had only seen such an emotional display in children – all that laughing and smiling. All that concern and solicitude for him – an elf the Prince hardly knew.

Still, he had to admit to himself – privately of course – that it was warming to be around these strange elves. There was a freshness to them, something that reminded Erutunín strongly of innocence. He was convinced that if he closed his eyes he would smell fresh earth after a rain shower.

Erutunín shook his head to clear it of such fanciful thoughts. What would Mistress say if she knew how foolishly he was behaving? What would his father say? Cothion was not known for his understanding and temperate nature. Even worse – Erutunín’s face paled at the thought – what would his mother-in-law say?

“Strange elf, is he not?”

Speak of the devil – “Yes, most strange.”

“Mistress probably finds him intriguing.”

Erutunín glanced at Tinawiel and was surprised that her face seemed speculative. Her hands rested on her hip and her head was tilted to one side. Erutunín recognised the expression. Legolas should be afraid – be very afraid.

“He has this air about him – something that draws one to him. He is dangerous.”

“He did not seem dangerous – childish more than anything else.”

Tinawiel looked at Erutunín and shook her head. As she walked out of the room, Erutunín was sure he heard her say, “Stupid elf.”

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Did you do what I asked?”

“Of course, my Lord. If you would come this way – we have the creature tied up here.”

Legolas nodded at the elf and motioned for him to lead the way. During the battle, he had ordered the capture of an orc, hoping that he might be able to get more information. Actually, any information would be welcome. The pattern of the orc raids, their relative organisation, and the apparent ease with which they were organising and attacking the elves all worried Legolas.

When the Nazgûl were alive the elves knew what evil they were dealing with. They knew the driving force behind the incursions, the canker in the system. Even if they had been unable to attack the head, at least they knew it was there. Now, when the orcs should have been leaderless, disorganised – they seemed to be regrouping. But this time, the head seemed to be missing. Who was behind the raids? Who was helping them penetrate the defences?

If it had been the Wood-elves alone, Legolas might have been willing to entertain the idea that the fault might lie with his elves. After all, the Realm was large and the elven numbers were few – and getting fewer as time passed as more elves sailed West. At least then Legolas would have been able to do something about it – increase the patrols, increase training – anything. But with Avari help, Legolas did not think the fault lay with the elves. From what he had seen, the Avari were competent enough at what they did. They would not be careless enough to let orcs through. If the fault did not lie with the Wood-elves and it did not lie with the Avari, then the only explanation was the Orc had some sort of help in organising their raids. On their own, they had neither the skill nor the determination to pull off such sustained raids.

That conclusion scared Legolas more than he showed. The uncertainty was unnerving in itself – where would the next raid be? How many of his people would die defending their homes? These ever-present worries swirled in his mind until he felt that there was no room left for anything else.

He was tired – tired of this fighting, tired of the death, tired of pain all around him. Sometimes he thought he was tired of his life. Everyday he knew he had to be strong, that he could not reveal his doubts to his troops, to his friends, not even to Herenion. He was a Prince and that meant being strong. Everyday he did his duty, not only for his people but for his own sanity. As long as he was doing something to help, something useful, it was enough. In the end, he was making a difference.

During his time in the Fellowship he had been able to put all his determination into seeing that the quest succeeded. He knew the importance of the mission and it brought him great peace to know that in some small way, he had helped. Which was partly why he felt so useless now, he did not know if what he was doing was the right thing – let alone enough. Should he be trusting the Avari? Should he be counselling his father against taking their help? Legolas honestly did not know.

His father. Legolas wondered if Thranduil realised how important he was to him. He was the one person who Legolas could be weak in front of. Legolas was his people’s strength but Thranduil was his. When Legolas was assailed by doubts he could turn to his father and he knew that his King would always protect him. That was the great truth in his life and one that he clung to with a desperation that showed how untrue it was.

Everything in life had a price. The Quest of the Ring had broadened his horizons immeasurably. It had graced him with friends who had changed his immortal life for the better. It had made him a better person, however he chose to define that general term. But it had extracted a heavy price from him. It had implanted a sickness within him that not even his father could heal. For perhaps the second time in his life his father could not make everything better for him. The first had been when he lost his mother and now he was losing himself. For the first time in his life, Legolas could not tell his father what was in his heart. He hid the knowledge of his Sea-longing from Thranduil because his King had enough burdens upon his shoulders without having to add an Ada’s worries to them.

There would be time enough for the son to confide in his father. For now the King had enough to concern himself with. As soon as this trouble was over he would talk to his Ada – only then would Legolas allow himself that indulgence. After all, Legolas was not planning to leave anytime soon. He had enough time to see his plans through. If nothing else, there was his promise to Aragorn. And then, if he left, who would infuriate his wife? He got the impression that Rhinure was not teased enough and the Valar only knew how much she needed it. That was one burden he was more than happy to take on.

Rhinure – his wife. His unpredictable, maddening but adorable wife. She riled him as no one else was able. When he was around her, he had the urge to throttle her and then kiss her senseless. But he realised, when he was around her, he had no space to think of anything else. All his troubles disappeared, all his discontent vanished. She made him feel more alive than he had felt in a long time. Being with her was like preparing for a battle – dangerous but strangely exhilarating. Everything had a price and everything had its rewards as well. Legolas was not certain which Rhinure was.

Maybe both.

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The orc snarled as his elven guards hauled him forward. He strained at the rope tying his hands, needing to kill something - anything. Make blood flow, make it stain the ground, make it foul the beauty around him. He wanted to hurt something, make it bleed, make it scream from delicious cruelty.

But these elves would not let him. How he hated them – these beautiful creatures. They were everything he hated, everything he had to destroy.

“So this is our prisoner?”

The pleasant voice set his teeth on edge. He looked up at the fair face and felt a fierce rage boil through him. Kill. Kill this elf – make it hurt like he hurt. Make it suffer – kill it.

Legolas stepped back as the orc lunged for him. The guards yanked the rope, causing him to collapse in a heap before him. “Now there was no need for that.” Legolas kept his voice calm and sweet knowing that it would infuriate the creature. As long as the creature was unthinkingly angry, Legolas had the advantage. And advantage Legolas was willing to exploit to its end.

“If you behave yourself no harm will come to you. I promise you that.” Legolas smiled down at the thing, causing it to snarl at him. A little more of this and the promise would become unnecessary.

“Now if you will answer a few questions.”

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Tinawiel dragged Erutunín outside, despite his protests. “You wanted to know why the Prince is dangerous. Look there.”

Erutunín looked at what Tinawiel was pointed at and for a moment, he felt as if his knees were going to give way. Prince Legolas was standing over a bound orc. Two Wood-elves held the bound Fallen creature down. A few more elves stood guard, ready to take the orc down if it got to close to their Prince. It was an incongruous picture but one that should not have been frightening. Except for one little thing – the Prince himself.

He circled the orc, obviously questioning it. Erutunín applauded the foresight in that plan – the information that the orc would give, and Erutunín was sure that it eventually would spill its guts in the end, literally as well as figuratively, would be slim at best. But any information was better than none.

What shocked Erutunín was the Prince’s expression. It was so pleasant, so kind that it caused the Avari to shiver. Legolas’ blue eyes radiated sympathy and concern, much like they had when he had been speaking to Erutunín. Was it all an act? Erutunín would have said before that such strong emotions could not be faked, but did that mean that the Prince was sympathetic towards the orc? Or did it mean that he was able to hide what he truly felt as well as the Avari?

Erutunín eyes narrowed, there was more than met the eye to this Prince. “You may be right after all, Mother-in-law. Shall we go in closer and see what this Prince can do?”

Tinawiel nodded, hoping that her face was not as pale as Erutunín’s.

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas kicked the orc when it gave him another flippant but useless answer, “Now why did you go and do that? I do not want to hurt you but I will if you do not co-operate with me.” His smile did not falter for an instant and his voice remained at its courteous pitch.

The orc laughed, the sound grating on the sensitive ears of the elves. He sneered at Legolas, “Do you think anything you can do will make a difference? You do not know the meaning of pain. You are weak, worthless. Free me and I will teach you how to hurt something.”

Legolas backhanded the orc and sent it sprawling into the ground. “I think not, though I appreciate your offer. Now answer the question, who is helping you?”

“No one. We don’t need any help.’

“You are lying.”

“So?”

Legolas sighed, this was taking too long – he had to return to the Palace. He bent down until he was eye-level with the orc. “You know I will have to kill you.”

“I expect as much. Kill me; it does not make a difference. I have hurt you, made you fear and that is enough.”

Legolas restrained his own anger and kept the smile on his face. If violence would not disorient the creature than maybe kindness would. Everything was a weapon after all. He stood, reaching for his dagger. “You are hungry?”

“Yes. I am always hungry – there is never any food. Never enough no matter how much we hunt, how much we kill.”

Legolas ran the blade lightly over his palm, cutting it so that the blood would pool within his cupped hand. The orc smelling the blood, lunged forward. Food! Blood! When Legolas stepped back, he snarled loudly. That elf was taking away the blood. Bring it back.

“You like blood – elven blood. Do you not?”

The orc strained against the rope, desperate to reach Legolas – hurt Legolas, feed off Legolas.

“What if I let you have all the food you want?”

The orc stopped fighting to look at the strange elf. “Food?”

“Yes, what if I fed you until you had enough? Would you tell me what I want to know?”

“As much as I want?”

“Yes, as much as you want but it will be elven food.”

“Meat? Fresh meat?”

“Yes.”

The orc knew these things could not be trusted. All they wanted to do was get the information he had and then kill him. But not to be hungry – for once not to feel the emptiness inside him. “Okay.”

“But you will tell me what I want to know first.”

“Okay but you feed me soon.”

“Who is helping the orcs?”

“The dark ones.”

“Who are the dark ones?”

“I not know. But they tell us where to attack, how to attack. They tell us that whatever we kill we can keep. They don’t want anything. They just help us.”

“Where did they come from?”

The orc shrugged, salivated by now at the thought of being fed, “They have always been there. They come when they are needed. When the Dark Lord fell, they came to us. Protected us. Helped us.”

 “How do you get in touch with them?”

“They get in touch with us.”

“How many are there?”

“Enough.”

Legolas smiled, “Answer the question otherwise I will not feed you.”

The orc howled, “You promised! You promised! I not know. The dark ones not tell us. We only see a few. They not tell us. I don’t know. You promised.”

Legolas turned to Faelon, “I think this creature has not much more to tell us. Take him to the back of the village. Find out what you can about the orc numbers, how many contingents, how many Uruk-Hai amongst them. See if you can find out more of these dark ones. I have had enough of this thing for today.”

Faelon saluted, “And when he has no more to tell us?”

“Feed it and then kill it. I will not have it befoul my Realm for much longer.”

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas turned around to find that Erutunín and that she-elf, Tinawiel were watching him. He bowed to them, all courtesy and serenity, “Did you enjoy the show?”

Tinawiel answered when she realised that Erutunín was having difficulty speaking, “It was most instructive. I hope that you got what you wanted from the creature.”

“I will. Was there anything else you wanted from me?”

“No, but you will share what you have learnt with the Avari?”

“Naturally, I will share as much as the Avari have. After all, are we not all allies here?” Legolas smiled again and left.

 Tinawiel turned to Erutunín, “Still think he is not dangerous?”

“No, he is – very dangerous indeed. I wonder if Mistress knows that.”

“If she does not she will find out soon enough.”

Erutunín cleared his throat, he had to cover his discomposure somehow. He had not expected this from Mistress’ husband. He appeared so harmless, so naïve – so open. But he obviously was not. Today Erutunín had seen emotions being used as a weapon, as a mask. And that shook him. Mistress had her hands full – Erutunín had the feeling that she might have met her match in this Eldar Prince. This could prove to be interesting after all.

“Still think he is so trustworthy?” Tinawiel asked.

“What are you implying?”

“An elf who treats his enemies as such is not one to hold back. Mistress will have to be more careful otherwise she might end up like that Fallen one.”

“Mistress is Avari.”

“So were the Fallen once.”

“She can take care of herself.”

“So she can, but it will not be easy.”

“No it will not – but she is the Sacrifice. Survival is what she does best.”

 Tinawiel nodded, though she could not shake the feeling of dread that episode caused in her, “Sometimes survival is not enough. We will have to speak to Cothion about this. If this Eldar is going to prove to be troublesome then the Heir should know.”

“And we are not going to tell Mistress?”

“Do remember that he is Mistress’ husband. He holds her Four, we only hold her Three. If it came down to it – do you really think she would put us before him?”

“It will not come down to that – Mistress will not let it.”

“I hope you are correct, but Mistress might not have the choice. She may have to live up to her title after all.”

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Soon after the Avari were ready to return, Erutunín especially. Not only was he anxious to talk to his Ada – somehow Cothion would make sense of all of this and for a little while Erutunín would be able to hand his problems to someone else - he also had to prepare for the choosing ceremony. Istion would be a fearsome opponent, Erutunín was certain of that. Any Avari trained by Mistress Rhinure would have been a worthy opponent but Istion had this hunger to prove himself. He would not only fight for the Second Guard’s Blade but for Morion’s honour. He would fight to make sure that Morion was remembered – he would fight because to lose would be unacceptable.

Erutunín believed that he would make a good Second Guard – he wanted to serve his Clan, and he knew he would do it well. He was certain of that. But he wondered if he had the drive to take it away from Istion. He had a wife and a child on the way – commitments which took precedence for him. Serving Mistress Rhinure would take him away from them, and of this he was conflicted. Morion had managed his commitments but it was an open secret that it had caused friction between his wife and Rhinure. Erutunín was not sure whether he wanted to upset his wife, even for his Sacrifice and Clan. Istion, on the other hand, was completely committed to Rhinure. Nothing was more important than her. Erutunín had seen the way the younger elf looked at Mistress. There was a devotion in him that was obvious even through the Avari mask.

It was ironic that it was that very devotion that convinced Erutunín to press his claim against Istion’s. What he felt for Mistress was Istion’s business but Erutunín felt that it would interfere with his duty. Istion was committed to the maid but he tended to forget that she was a tool for the Clan. As Second Guard he served the Clan, not the elleth. The distinction was often unclear, as it had been with Morion, but there was a difference. If it came down to it, Mistress was expendable, the Clan was not. Erutunín wondered if Istion would be able to make that choice – if he was not then he should not be Second Guard. Erutunín believed he could make the right choice – which is why he would challenge Istion.

In the end, it would come down to how badly either elf wanted the honour. The choosing ceremony was a declaration of intent and a test of commitment. If Erutunín believed he would be a better Second Guard, then he would have to defeat Istion to prove his claim. Like any battle, it was a test of nerves, skill and sheer will.

Erutunín looked around to make sure his Company was ready to ride. As he was about to mount his horse, he saw Prince Legolas approaching.

“I see you are ready to leave.”

“That is correct, my Lord.”

“And where do you head off to?”

“Home.”

Legolas waited but it was clear that Erutunín was not about to say anything further. He shrugged his mental shoulders, it was worth a try. “May I ask what the hurry is?”

“We need to be home for the choosing of the Second Guard.”

“And how do you do that?” Legolas asked with great interest.

Erutunín looked around, figuring out whether he had enough time to explain the whole process. Most of the Avari were ready to move out, already mounted. Since Erutunín wanted to be on his way as soon as possible he decided to give Mistress’ husband the short version. “The Second Guard, like all other positions in the Clan, is chosen by the Avari. Candidates present themselves to the Clan and if they are approved then they compete with each other. Generally, only one person puts his name forward knowing that is what the Clan wants.”

“Clan?”

“The Avari – we are Clan.”

“Ah yes. And if there is more than one approved candidate, what then? What if half the Clan supports one and the other half supports the other?”

 “Then the candidates will fight amongst themselves – a test of skill in which the winner gets the position.”

“A winner takes all situation?”

“I suppose you can put it that way, but for us as long as even some proportion of the Clan supports an elf he can contest the other people. If he wins then it shows he is more skilled and more determined, and therefore more worthy.”

Legolas nodded, “It makes sense – when will the choosing take place?”

“As soon as I return home.”

“Why not earlier? I presume that the ceremony will not wait for all Avari patrols to return.”

“No, not usually but Mistress knows that I am planning to contest for the Second Guard’s Blade. She will wait.”

Legolas frowned, “How did you know that the Second Guard had fallen? This is the first time since his death that Rhinure has gone back.”

Erutunín raised his eyebrow, “We still get news from her.”

Legolas wondered how much and what kind of news Rhinure was sending. He knew that he should have expected it – after all Rhinure was Avari and it was natural that she would keep abreast of what was happening with her people. Couriers would have been going back and forth; if Legolas was away from the Realm for an extended period he would expect as much. It was just that since he had never seen a messenger leave, he had been lulled into thinking that Rhinure was not sending information about the Realm back to her Avari. Perhaps that is what she wanted. He would have to watch her more closely when she returned – which Legolas hoped would be soon. As infuriating as she was, he would rather have her near than not. Just to keep an eye on her.

Erutunín shifted in his saddle, impatient to leave. Legolas noted that and commented, “I see that you are eager to be off.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Erutunín wondered at this Eldar tendency to make meaningless statements, something they called “small talk”.

 “Since I cannot persuade you to rest for longer, I wonder if you would take a letter for me to Lady Rhinure.”

“Of course – is it personal?”

Legolas blinked, “Yes, I suppose it is.” Erutunín nodded briskly and held out his hand. As Legolas handed him the hasty scrawled scroll he wondered what the Avari’s response would have been if he had said it was not personal. “If the letter was not personal?”

“Then I would give it to Mistress in public where others would have the right to question her about it.”

“Then I will say that it is very personal.”

Erutunín nodded again, not seeing the distinction but thinking it best to humour the strange elf. Tucking the letter safely in his belt he and the Avari company rode out of the village, leaving Legolas behind.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Thranduil frowned at the report in front of him. He had read it four times and he still did not like the conclusion he came too. He did not like the conclusion that he had been forced to make when Legolas had first reported to him yesterday. The orcs were getting some sort of help – that much was clear and as Thranduil expected. The orc raids were too well planned for there to be any doubt of that fact. Legolas’ information had just confirmed Thranduil’s thoughts.

What bothered Thranduil more was the kind of help the orcs were receiving. Normally the forest would have warned the elves when such evil came within its boundaries. The Wood-elves themselves, and the Royal family especially, were sensitive to the creatures of the Shadow. It was an early warning system that they had learnt over the centuries of defending their home. The fact that this time, that system seemed to be failing bothered him. It suggested that the hand behind the orcs was not ‘evil’ per se. The dark ones could not be as twisted or as evil as the orcs because otherwise their presence would have been sensed by the patrols.

If Thranduil had to make an educated guess he would say that the dark ones were one of the Free races – Man, Dwarf, Hobbit and, though Thranduil did not like this idea, Elf. The Hobbits he naturally discarded since blaming them would have been preposterous. Thranduil would have liked to believe that the scheme was masterminded by the Dwarves but that seemed unlikely as well. Thranduil was intelligent enough to put aside his prejudice to think clearly. The dwarves hated the orcs and all creatures of the Shadow almost as much as Thranduil himself. Besides, if they wanted Mirkwood to fall they would have chosen a more direct route.

That meant that the dark ones were most likely either Men or Elves. Men were a probable choice but one that had problems as well. They were capable of such subtlety – use your enemies for your own purposes, and such cruelty. However, the question then became how were they controlling the orcs. Orcs were not known for their intelligence or their amiability. They were more likely to kill a human than obey them. When Sauron was alive, his power kept his dark armies together but his fall had fragmented them. Thranduil doubted any human or group of humans had the power to reunite the orcs.

Which forced him to look at the only race which had both the power and the intelligence to accomplish such a task – elves. Thranduil knew what elves were capable of – the depths they could sink to – Kinslayers. If the wise could fall so low then what hope was there for the Moriquendi? Thranduil wondered ironically. If this was done by elves then there was only one race on whom suspicion fell on – Avari. No one would ever convince him that either Elrond or Celeborn were capable of such a crime. They were his Kin, his friends. Arda would end before Thranduil believed that either Imladris or Lorien was behind this.

The Avari on the other hand were an unknown quantity. They had once refused the Valar’s generous offer and, if the tales were to be believed, had been tortured by Morgoth himself. Ilúvatar only knew how that affected them, how that had twisted them. They could have done this – after all, evil recognised evil. Thranduil did not know much about them, they could have some hidden agenda in all of this.

Rhinure’s suspicious behaviour did nothing to allay Thranduil’s fears. He knew that she was hiding something. She was not skilled enough to hide that from him – he was King for a reason after all. She knew more about this than she was telling him. Thranduil was willing to believe that the Avari were innocent but they were not harmless. They were holding back, Thranduil could feel it. Rhinure’s reluctance to trust him and her hesitation made him even more suspicious.

If she was responsible then why did she help the Wood-elves at the same time. Why marry Legolas in the first place? Why defend his villagers against the orc attacks? Rhinure was falling in love with his son, Thranduil would stake his life on it. She would not hurt him if she could help it, he believed. If it was only Rhinure, Thranduil would have said that she would not hurt the Wood-elves at all. But was that true of the Avari as a whole? Rhinure was committed to his son – but was that necessarily true of the rest of her people? She was so young; she might not know what her Avari were doing behind her back. She might be a victim as much as his people were in this game.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he was reading too much into his son’s relationship with Rhinure. Maybe he was seeing what he wanted to – the possibility that he had chosen well for his son after all. The thought that he might have condemned Legolas to a loveless marriage hurt him too much. Maybe his hope was clouding his judgement. Rhinure might be pretending to be attracted to Legolas in order to lull Thranduil’s suspicions.

Maybe this, maybe that – so many possibilities and so little information. No matter where he turned Thranduil was confronted with more questions than answers. All he had managed to accomplish was to give himself a headache and more heartache. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember a better time. If he kept them close tightly enough he could almost imagine he heard Eruante’s soft tread and sweet perfume. If he kept absolutely still he could almost imagine her soft fingers caress his forehead and take away all his troubles.

*~ How I miss you, hervess nín. ~*

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas watched from the door as Thranduil closed his eyes and leaned back. His heart twisted when he saw the weariness in his father’s face. He wished there was something he could do to lighten the burden instead of adding to it. He had come in to ask if Thranduil wanted him to do anything today. Legolas shook his head, his father had trained him too well – even on a day ‘off’ Legolas was looking for work. Since he did not have to lead the patrols today, he was at loose ends.

*~ Well, if I get a day off then Ada should as well. It is only fair. ~*

Legolas sneaked in behind Thranduil, covering his father’s eyes with his palms. “Guess who?”

Thranduil smiled, it had been ages since they had played this game. “Let me think. Could it be a Prince who is shirking his duties?”

“Guess again.”

“Could it be my son who is trying to torment his father?”

“You are getting warmer but not quite there yet.”

“Could it be my Legolas who is taking a well-deserved break?”

Legolas laughed, “Finally. You got it.” He leaned back on the desk, grinning down at Thranduil.

“Do you have nothing to do today, ion nín?”

Legolas shook his head, “Of course I do. I have to make sure that my King does not overwork himself. Between you and me, he has a tendency to do that.”

“Well, you see your King is plagued by all these problems that only he can solve.”

Legolas pretended to pout, “Does that mean he has no time to spend with his son?”

Thranduil sighed dramatically, “I suppose it means exactly that.”

Legolas tugged at his father’s hand, “Come on Ada. These papers will not disappear, you can get back to them later. Come spend time with me.”

Thranduil opened his mouth to say no but shut it again. Legolas was giving him his ‘elfling’ look. Big blue eyes opened wide, stared ingenuously into green ones. Thranduil sighed, there really was no defence to that look. “Fine, fine. Have it your way. What do you want to do?”

Legolas straightened delightedly, “Let us go to the training field. You look like you could use some exercise. You are getting a bit overweight – or you would be if elves could get fat.”

Thranduil glared at his cheeky son, “I think I let you spend too much time with humans.”

“Too late now.” With that, Legolas saluted and ran out of the room, closely pursued by a laughing Thranduil.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“You want me to do what?”

“Spar with me, Adar. I am positive that you are familiar with the concept. Take a blade, pretend to kill your opponent. It is not that hard. I know you did it once for real – thought that was a really really long time ago.”

“Legolas, if you would let me get in a word edgewise you would realise I was objecting to the weapon of choice, not the sparring itself.”

“Oh!” Legolas looked sheepish for about a second before asking heatedly, “What is wrong with knives as a weapon?”

“Absolutely nothing – if you are an upstart Prince. On the other hand, if you are a King then the weapon of choice can only be a sword. Nothing matches its elegance and power.”

Legolas snorted, “I think you are afraid to fight me with knives since you know you will lose.”

“I could make the same accusation with swords.”

“Fine. You fight with your sword, and I will fight with my knives. That way we will both be using the weapons we are familiar with.”

Thranduil grinned, “Done.”

Before Legolas realised that he had been manoeuvred into letting Thranduil use his sword, Thranduil attacked. With an unmatched power, he drove Legolas back. If Legolas’ had been any slower or any less prepared he would have been on the ground immediately. His knives came up to block Thranduil’s sword. The impact made him grit his teeth as his bones rattled. He had forgotten how much strength his father had in his arms.

Leaping back out of the sword’s range, Legolas looked for an opening. He had to admire the way Thranduil handled the blade. One would have thought he was twirling a twig or something equally light, for the speed with which the sword moved was hard even for an elf to follow.

“You are good at this.”

“Of course, ion nín. What did you expect?” Thranduil moved his blade in a complicated pattern, the steel cutting through the air, getting closer and closer to Legolas. Legolas moved back, looking for an opening to attack. If he hoped to win, he would have to be patient, a frontal attack would be foolish since Thranduil had the superior strength and reach.

“I expected you to be a little rusty, considering all the time you spend behind a desk.”

“Wielding a quill is surprisingly similar to wielding a sword. Each requires concentration and dedication – both of which I have in abundance. Now come, let us finish this.” Thranduil narrowed his eyes and pressed his advantage in earnest.

Legolas swallowed when he saw those green eyes turned feral. He had forgotten how dangerous Thranduil looked with a weapon in hand. “You have been practising, Ada,” he said accusingly.

“Naturally. Did you expect me to sit uselessly while you went off on a quest to save Middle Earth?”

“You have been fighting!”

Thranduil chuckled at the indignation in Legolas’ voice. “Now you know how I feel when you go into battle.”

Legolas grumbled and ducked under the swing of Thranduil’s sword. Coming under the blade, he went for Thranduil’s throat. But before he could make killing point, Thranduil caught his hand, and held it in tightly. “A little slow, little one. Try again.” Thranduil pushed Legolas back, causing the younger elf to almost stumble.

By this time a crowd had gathered around the royal elves, each cheering both King and son in almost equal measure. Herenion who was watching with great amusement, turned to ask Arandur, “Do you wish to make a bet on the outcome?”

Arandur answered coldly, “I do not bet.” Then he paused significantly before saying, “But if I did, I would say that the King will trounce his son.”

“You would have so little faith in your Prince?”

“I would have so much faith in my King.”

Herenion winced as Legolas crashed to the ground when Thranduil swept his feet out from under him. He managed to scramble up, just managing to avoid being killed. “Perhaps you are correct.”

“I am always correct.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Thranduil watched as Legolas caught his breath, “Do you wish to yield, little one?”

Legolas glared at his father, pushing an errant lock of hair out of his face. He would answer just as soon as he managed to get some air into his lungs. It really was not fair, Thranduil was playing with him, even Legolas could tell as much. He should have never agreed to let Thranduil spar with the sword. “Never, Ada.”

Thranduil practically glowed with pride when Legolas managed to attack, despite his obvious fatigue. Of course, that did not mean he was going to let the elfling beat him. It was time to end this; with a cunning honed over ages of practise, he hit Legolas’ knives with such force that his son dropped them. Before he could react and defend himself, Thranduil rested his blade against Legolas’ neck, “I guess I win.”

“I guess you do. Now may I collapse?”

Thranduil chortled and gathered Legolas into his arms, letting the child collapse against him. “I think we have had enough exercise for one day.”

Legolas lifted his head from its comfortable resting place, Thranduil’s chest, “I would say so. Next time we practise – we do it on the archery range.”

“I think not – I did not become King by being stupid. There is no way I am going anywhere near an archery field with you.”

“I would beat you, you know.”

“Of course I do – which is why I am not going to practise with you.”

Legolas grinned and let Thranduil take him inside.

Arandur turned to Herenion, “I was correct.”

“Yes, you were. It is most fortunate for me that you do not gamble.” Herenion winked at the Avari elf and walked in after his two elflings – King and Prince.

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