Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter for me.

*******

Chapter 4.  Lost

Legolas ran after the bigger elfling, who suddenly dodged to his right, touched the trunk of a walnut tree, and cried, “Green refuge!”  Legolas was about to do the same thing when all the other elflings groaned, so he decided not to do it.

The big maiden who was taking care of them said, “Good for you, Isemir.”

“Can we play something different now?” complained a maid with red ribbons on her braids.  “Isemir always wins at Green Refuge.  Can we play Hide and Seek?”  Legolas liked that idea.  He played Hide and Seek with his friends at home.  He knew how that game went.

The big maiden nodded.  “Of course.  You be the seeker, Cólithiel.”  The maid with the red ribbons ran to fold her arms against a tree and bury her face in them.  She began to count, and the other children scattered.

Legolas ran through the underbrush, looking for a good place to hide.  He did not run as fast as he could because he was trying not to brush against the bushes or kick up the leaf litter.  His friend Annael was good at seeing such things, and these village children were all bigger than Annael, so Legolas thought one of them might be good at it too and use the clues to find him.  He found a thick clump of bushes.  Their leaves had fallen off, but he could see a little hollow behind them, and he crept into that, crouched down, and pulled the leaves over him.  Then he peered through the branches and waited.

He could hear Cólithiel still counting.  “Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.  Here I come, ready or not.”  He heard her moving into the woods to one side of him.  A nearby maple tree buzzed happily, just as the trees at home did when Legolas and his friends played in the woods behind Annael’s cottage.  He felt warmer when he heard it and settled more comfortably into his nest of leaves.

He heard running footsteps.  “One, two, three on Isemir, running into goal!” called Cólithiel.  The running stopped, and Legolas heard Isemir groan.  Cólithiel moved again, this time coming toward where Legolas hid.  He held very still.  He saw her feet on the other side of the bushes, and for a moment, he thought she had found him, but her feet walked on past him and faded away.  He let out his breath.  She had been very close.  He needed to find a better spot.  He inched out from behind the bushes and tiptoed silently away into the woods.

Behind him, he could hear the big maiden calling something, but he could not make out what she said, and he was in a hurry, so he did not stop.  He hugged himself and smiled.  He was good at this game!  He would find a place so well concealed that he would be the last one hiding and he would win.

***

Ithilden slipped into the village’s meeting house and moved quietly toward the table.  Thranduil raised an eyebrow as he slid back into the chair he had been using all morning, and Ithilden leaned toward him.  “A village maiden is watching all the children,” he whispered.  “Legolas is with them.”

Thranduil nodded and turned back to where Feldor was speaking about his proposal to keep commonly owned horses in the villages, so goods could be packed from one village to another, using fresh horses at every stop.  The village leaders all seemed to like that idea.  Judging by his father’s manner, Ithilden judged that Thranduil liked it too.  He thought his father was less happy with the leaders’ unwillingness to talk about the animal hides and medicinal plants they might send back to the stronghold in payment for what they received, and he was amused to watch Thranduil struggling to wait patiently for an opportunity to steer them back to that subject.  Ithilden was glad he had been able to return to the negotiations.  He was sometimes able to temper his father’s more volatile reactions.

He suppressed a smile at a brief memory of his father’s face the previous evening when Legolas had spat the forbidden words.  He was certain Thranduil still had some things he wanted to say to Eilian about the matter, but in retrospect, Ithilden thought it had probably made the village leaders warm a bit to his father, seeing him less as a remote ruler and more as someone like themselves, whose children’s actions did not always make them puff with pride.

The door opened, and an elf-woman came in and stood quietly near the entrance.  Feldor looked at her and then at Thranduil.  “It is time for the mid-day meal, my lord.  Would you and Lord Ithilden do me the honor of eating with me and my wife in our cottage?”

“We would be honored,” Thranduil said.  He rose, and he and Feldor led the others out of the meeting house.  The other village leaders dispersed to various cottages.  Ithilden had noted with approval that the villagers had efficiently parceled them out so that no family had too great a burden to bear from visitors.  Thranduil had already invited everyone to a feast at their camp that night.  It would not do to eat his people’s food and not repay them.

Feldor’s cottage was small, but the central room was warm, a fragrant stew bubbled over the fire, and the odor of warm bread made Ithilden’s mouth water.  The palace kitchen sent well-prepared food to the royal table, but there was nothing like eating in the kitchen where the food had been cooked to warm the spirit as well as the body.  He waited for his father to nod his permission and took the place Feldor’s wife indicated.  She dished out the stew while Feldor sliced the bread.

A knock sounded at the door, and Feldor rose to answer it.  To Ithilden’s surprise, Eilian stood just outside the cottage.  He was on guard duty at the camp.  What was he doing here?  A faint alarm sounded in Ithilden’s head, and he rose to meet his warrior.

“I beg your pardon,” Eilian apologized to Feldor, “but I must speak with the king.”  As he turned to the table, his gaze settled on Ithilden, and suddenly his eyes widened.  He stepped inside.  “Where is Legolas?” he asked.

Ithilden blinked.  “What do you mean?”  Eilian knew quite well where Legolas was.  He was the one who had told Ithilden that the village maiden was watching him along with the other children.

Eilian took another step toward the table.  “Cook came and got me to tell me Legolas did not turn up for the mid-day meal.  Where is he?”

Ithilden’s heart sped up a little as he turned to Feldor.  “Do the children eat together?” he demanded, and then realized that he sounded like a troop commander rather than the diplomatic son of the king.  He softened his tone.  “Where does the maiden who watches the children take them to eat?”

Feldor looked startled, and his wife answered the question.  “The children all go home at mid-day, my lord.”

Thranduil too was on his feet now.  He spun to face Ithilden.  “Where did you leave him?”

Ithilden defended himself from what sounded like an accusation.  “He was playing with the village children.  A maiden was minding them.  Eilian said she was capable.”

“She was not minding Legolas!” Eilian cried.  “He was playing with the children, but she was watching them, not him.”  Ithilden’s knees suddenly felt weak.

“Where is she?” Thranduil demanded, turning to Feldor’s wife.

“She lives with her parents in a cottage a bit east of here,” she said.

Feldor was already putting on his cloak.  “I will take you.”

Thranduil reached for his own cloak, and Ithilden and Eilian followed him and Feldor out the door and along the path.  No one said anything, but Ithilden was aware of his father’s tight mouth and the lines between Eilian’s brows.  He thought his own face probably mirrored theirs.  Feldor stopped outside a cottage and knocked.   The maiden came to the door, gawked at Thranduil for a moment, and bobbed a curtsy.

Thranduil spoke before Feldor could.  “I am looking for my son,” he said.  “Do you know where he is?”

She looked uncertain.  “The little blond?  He said his brother was watching him.”  She nodded shyly at Eilian.  “When I called the children to go home for their mid-day meals, the little one did not come, but his brother was gone, so I thought they had gone to their own meal.”

Ithilden heard Eilian draw a quick breath, and his own breath caught in his throat.  “Where did you last see him?” Thranduil asked.  His voice was rough enough to make her take a half step backward.

“He was following another child when we played Green Refuge.  And he was there when we started the game of Hide and Seek, but we did not finish that game. It was time to go home to eat.”  She looked at Eilian again.  “You know where we were playing, my lord.  You saw us.”

Thranduil managed to say, “Thank you, mistress,” before he turned to Eilian.  “Where?”

“On the edge of our camp,” Eilian said.  His face had gone white.  Thranduil took a few long strides and then began to run toward their camp, with Ithilden and Eilian right behind him.

“I will gather people to help with the search, my lord,” Feldor called after them.

Surely this was a nightmare, Ithilden thought as he ran.  Surely Legolas would be at the camp when they got there.  He had not walked away and left his little brother in the woods with no one to care for him.  That could not have happened.  They emerged from the trees into the campsite to find most of their party gathered, looking concerned.  One look at their faces must have told those waiting what they wanted to know.  “What can we do?” Cook asked, stepping forward.

Thranduil turned to Eilian, his face grim.  “Where was Legolas the last time you saw him?”

Eilian opened his mouth but no sound came out, and Ithilden intervened.  “He was running through the trees over there.” Ithilden pointed in the direction he meant.  “I was the last one to see him, not Eilian.”  He looked at Thranduil.  “I misunderstood what Eilian said and walked away.  I am sorry, Adar.”

Thranduil threw him a single sharp look and then began dividing those in the campsite into pairs and organizing the search for Legolas.  Eilian took a hasty step toward their father, but Ithilden grabbed his arm.  “Get another guard to go with you and scout that whole area for signs of spiders or orcs or any dangerous animal for that matter,” Ithilden commanded.

“I want to help with the search,” Eilian said, his voice tight with fear.

Ithilden whirled on him.  “I need you to scout the area,” he said fiercely.  “The rest of us will look, but you are the best scout I have.  We need to know if there is danger.  Use your head, Eilian!”

Eilian opened his mouth to protest but paused, drew a deep breath, and said, “Very well.”  He took a quick look around and ran to grab the arm of another warrior and draw him off to the woods.  They leapt into the trees and moved swiftly away.

Thranduil snapped his fingers.  “Start where you last saw him,” he commanded.  Ithilden ran toward where he had last seen Legolas, with Thranduil right behind him.

***

Legolas peeked around the thick beech tree behind which he was hiding.  Cólithiel was taking a very long time to find him.  Surely he had won the game by now.  He listened as hard as he could, but he still heard no one.  He was beginning to be a little worried.  Maybe the big maiden had called him and he had not heard her and she had left him!  His stomach growled.  It must be nearly time for mid-day meal.  Why had Eilian not come to get him?  The maiden might leave him, but Eilian never would.

For a moment, he paused.  Maybe something had happened that he did not know about.  Sometimes the people who took care of you went away even when they did not mean to.  He examined that thought soberly.  Ada, Ithilden, and Eilian were warriors with swords and bows.  Nothing would happen to them.

Another explanation for his solitude occurred to him.  What if he had hidden so well that Eilian had not been able to find him?  What if no one had been able to find him?  He struggled to take a deep breath.  That was silly.  Of course his brothers and Ada would be able to find him. They were hunters.  They would just pretend Legolas was a rabbit and track him.  Besides, they did not have to find him.  He could go back to camp by himself.  He brightened at the thought.

He stood for a moment, trying to decide where camp was.  The beech tree was making a comforting sound that made him feel better, but it did not help him find the camp.  He did not hear any of Ithilden’s warriors or Cook or Eilian or anyone, but he did hear water rushing.  That was the stream, he thought with relief, and it was near their camp.  He would walk toward the stream, and when he got there, the camp would be there too.

He set off through the trees.  He could not go in a straight line because sometimes he had to go around bushes, but the sound of the water kept getting louder, so he knew he was going in the right direction.  In fact, the water was very loud.  The camp must be close.  He pushed through a screen of bushes, and to his surprise, his right foot went down into very cold water.  He grabbed at a branch to keep from falling and jerked his foot back.  He stared at the stream and then looked quickly right and left.  Where was their camp?

For a horrible moment, he stood where he was with his heart beating like the heart of the baby bird he had once held in his hands when he and his friends had found it on the ground.   They had run into Annael’s cottage with it, and as Legolas had been sure she would, Annael’s nana had taken it gently from them and told them she would take care of it.   But who would take care of him?  Legolas gripped the branch as hard as he could and tried to ignore how cold his wet foot was.  He backed through the bushes and sat down hard.  For a minute, he thought he might have to cry, but instead he said the only thing that seemed right for the occasion:  “Orc spit.”

***

With the other warrior moving in the opposite direction, Eilian flew through the branches.  They would make a wide circle around the place where Ithilden had last seen Legolas and then spiral in toward the camp in ever smaller loops.  He had scouted in this same way the day before and found nothing, and Ithilden had then simply set guards on the camp, seeing no need to seek out dangers that did not approach.  But with Legolas alone somewhere in the woods, they needed to know if any dangers were in the area while the searchers looked for him.

He strained with all his senses to feel any disturbance in the woods and could not help but hope that what he would find was trees humming contentedly at the presence of a wood-elf child.  He was circling the western side of his area when he heard it – not the pleased sound he had been listening for, but a tremor of fear running through the trees.  And striking fear into his own heart, the disturbed area was not to the west, the direction that was away from camp, but to the east.  Something was between him and the area where elves were searching for Legolas.  He had been a warrior for long enough now that he knew what it was almost immediately.  Ganion had said that webbing was found about two leagues west of the village.  With chilling certainty, Eilian knew that the spiders that had spun those webs were no longer that far away.

For a moment, panic choked him. His little brother was alone in these woods!  He wanted nothing more than to fly toward where Legolas had last been seen and drop to the ground to search for him. Then from nowhere came a fleeting thought of Maltanaur, telling him to do, not what he wanted, but what his training and orders required. With an effort as great as any he had ever made, he forced himself to be a warrior rather than simply an elf with someone he loved in danger.  He put his hand to his mouth and gave the loud call of a goose in its autumn flight.  Then he hurled himself east, leaping from tree to tree in great, soaring bounds.  He had gone only a dozen yards before he nearly missed landing on a branch that was at the extreme limit of his reach.  His heart leapt into his throat.  Remember Maltanaur, he told himself grimly.  Are you incapable of learning anything?  With a pain that was almost physical, he made himself be more cautious in his flight.

He knew he was close to the spiders, and to his relief, he decided there could not be very many of them.  The area they were disturbing was small.  He veered slightly to circle the distressed trees.  He needed to get between the spiders and the camp.  He stopped in a maple, sounded the danger signal again, and turned back to face the place where he thought the spiders infested the trees just a short distance away.

He knew that what he should do now was wait for other guards to arrive.  They were all searching the woods, so they were close by.  As soon as they heard his signal, they would come.  But waiting had always been agony for Eilian, and now that he was no longer moving, he had time to wonder where Legolas was.  What if he was beneath the trees where the spiders crouched?  The thought nearly drove all restraint from him, but in the part of his brain where Maltanaur was still giving advice, he heard his keeper telling him that battle was not a solo activity, and he would be mad to think he could stand between Legolas and danger all by himself.

He dug his fingernails into the maple’s bark and waited for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few dozen heartbeats before Ithilden landed next to him on the branch, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set.  “What have you found?” he demanded.  Eilian’s knees sagged in relief.  He could not think of a time when he had been happier to see his domineering older brother.

***

As he hastened ahead, Thranduil tried not to think about the anxious murmur of the trees or the signal of peril that had called Ithilden away.  Instead, he concentrated on the disturbed leaves and broken twigs that told him Legolas had come this way.  His son’s tracks had been hard to pick up, but once Thranduil and Ithilden had found this trail, following him had become far easier.  Legolas was going north toward the stream at a point a mile or so west of camp.  Thranduil refused to think about the tales he had heard of children drowning in a few inches of water.  He could feel Legolas’s presence through the bond that tied him to his son.  He is well, Thranduil told himself repeatedly. He is unhappy, but he his unharmed.

Off to his left, he heard the faint but unmistakable sound of arrows whistling through the air.  His heart raced and he hastened his step in time to it.  He skirted a stand of hawthorns and suddenly, he saw Legolas, looking west with his eyes wide and his fists clenched.  He lunged forward, and Legolas must have heard him coming because he whirled and launched himself into Thranduil’s outstretched arms.  “Ada! Ada! I knew you would come.”

Thranduil wrapped his arms around his son as if they could form a shield to keep off any harm that might ever threaten him.  “I would come for you anywhere, my heart.”  Legolas locked his arms around Thranduil’s neck and his legs around Thranduil’s waist and buried his face Thranduil’s neck.  Thranduil turned away from the sounds of battle and hurried toward camp with his child safe in his arms.

***

“That is Menelvagor,” Thranduil said.  “Do you see his silver belt?”

Legolas made no answer, and Thranduil looked down to see that his son had fallen asleep in his lap.  He pulled the blanket more tightly around the child and leaned back against the tree under which he had placed the camp stool.  The evening was cold.  He should take Legolas into the tent and settle him in his cot.  Perhaps Thranduil would be fortunate and have another night when Legolas’s forgotten blanket would cause no problems.  But he hated to go in just yet.  He spent too much time living in a cave.

Footsteps sounded, and Ithilden’s tall figure emerged from the night.  Except for a few quick moments in which Ithilden assured himself that Legolas was all right and Thranduil assured himself that there was no immediate danger of spiders invading the camp or the village, they had not seen one another since Legolas had been found.  Ithilden had taken his warriors and gone off to search the nearby forest for more spiders.

“We found a small colony west of here, my lord,” he reported, still standing in front of Thranduil.  “We destroyed them and their nests and webbing, and then looked until we were sure there were no more.”  His tone was that of a troop commander making a formal report to his king.

Thranduil looked at him thoughtfully.  “Would you like to sit with us for a while?  The ground is rather cold, I am afraid, but the sky is so clear that the stars are crowding one another in their effort to shine upon us.”

Ithilden hesitated and then sat down next to the stool.  He looked at Legolas’s sleeping face.  “How is he?”

Thranduil could not resist running his thumb lightly over Legolas’s round cheek.  Legolas stirred slightly and turned toward him.   “He is fine.  He behaved quite sensibly really.  He told me he walked toward the stream because he knew the stream was near camp.  I think he got over his fright before I got over mine.”

Ithilden grimaced and drew a deep breath.  “I am sorry, Adar.  My failure to make sure he was cared for was unpardonable.  If anything had happened to him, I do not know how I could have lived with myself, and I do not see how you could ever have forgiven me.”

Thranduil shifted the limp weight of the child sleeping in his arms and looked at the tight face of the overly responsible, battle-tried warrior at his side.  He considered the words his oldest son had just forced out and the agonized tone in which they had been spoken.  Ithilden had suffered in the months after his mother’s death, suffering that was no less real because it was quieter than Legolas’s noisy childish grief and less wild than Eilian’s self-destructive rush into danger.  He hesitated.  If something had happened to Legolas, forgiveness would have come hard, but the son who was in the most pain here was not the little one.  “We all make mistakes,” he said finally.  “You thought Legolas was being taken care of.  I can understand how that would happen.”  He smiled faintly.  “I once lost track of Legolas, Turgon, and Annael in the woods near home.  I think I was more frightened during those moments than I was in my first battle.”

Ithilden gave him a crooked smile.  He picked up a twig and twisted it in his hands.  He was still unwilling to forgive himself, Thranduil realized, no matter what pardon Thranduil might grant.

A step sounded, and Thranduil looked up to find Eilian approaching, with his bow in his hand.  He looked apologetically at Ithilden.  “I know I am still on duty, and I am on my way back to my guard post, but I wanted to see Legolas before I went.”  He leaned forward to look at Legolas’s face, pressed against Thranduil’s chest.  “I guess I will have to talk to him in the morning,” he said with a half smile.

“Come and eat morning meal with us,” Thranduil invited.  “You can see him then.”

Eilian hesitated and slid his eyes away from Thranduil’s.  “I will be late getting to bed.  I am not sure I will wake up in time to be there before you go.”

Thranduil had seen Eilian rise early after having had far fewer hours of sleep than he was likely to get this night, and more often than Thranduil liked to think about, having consumed excess wine.  He repressed a stab of annoyance.  Scolding Eilian for being unwilling to spend time with him was hardly likely to encourage his son to change.

Eilian took a step back and eyed the three of them a little wistfully, Thranduil thought.  “I will be on my way then, with your leave, Adar.”  Thranduil nodded his permission, and Eilian slipped away into the darkness.  For a few moments, Thranduil and Ithilden sat in a silence broken by the rustle of small animals in the underbrush, the noise of crickets and tree frogs, the song of the trees, and the sound of Legolas’s deep, even breathing.

“Eilian did very well today,” Ithilden finally said.  “He has an amazing instinct for finding trouble.”  Thranduil snorted, and Ithilden laughed.  “I mean that he knows sooner than anyone else when the enemy is near.  And he handled the situation exactly as he should have, calling for help and positioning himself between the spiders and the camp and village.  I read his captain’s reports, but I do not often have a chance to see him in action.  He has learned a great deal in the south.”

Thranduil looked up at the stars.  “Then why is he drinking so much and spending his time with elves he outgrew years ago?  I thought this might have something to do with Maltanaur being injured, but Eilian is avoiding me to such an extent that I have not been able even to try to get the story out of him.  Not that he is likely to confide in me in any case.”  He looked down at his baby, who still trusted him as the one who would come when he was in trouble.  He had held Eilian like this, and surely Eilian too had trusted him. Why did he not trust him now?  When had his second son wandered away and become lost to him?

Ithilden flung the twig away.  “I do not know what Eilian has on his mind.  I can ask.  I probably should ask, if it has anything to do with Maltanaur being hurt.  But Todith sent me a report on the incident, and I did not want to undermine him by going around him and questioning one of his warriors.  Do you want me to speak to Eilian?”

“No,” Thranduil sighed.  He had a sudden vision of his wife urging him to talk to an adolescent Eilian who had somehow managed to draw down the wrath of several adults at once on his head.

“He wants to talk to you,” she had claimed.  “He just needs to know that you want to hear what he has to say.”

Perhaps he should listen to his wife still, even though she herself was gone.  He drew a deep breath.  “I will talk to him.  I will even try to listen to him.”  He gathered Legolas in his arms and rose.  “You must be tired, Ithilden.” He grinned. “Come and I will tuck you and Legolas both in.”  Ithilden laughed, rose, and followed him into the tent.