Disclaimer: I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien but they belong to him. I gain no profit from their use other than the enriched imaginative life that I assume he intended me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.
 
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9.  Confession

Legolas entered the dining room and hastily took his place.  “I am sorry I am late, Adar,” he apologized.

Thranduil frowned at him.  “You look tired.”  He shifted his frown to Eilian. “Did you let him stay up late last night?”

“No,” Eilian protested. “He voluntarily went off to bed when he was supposed to.” He, too, looked at Legolas and his brow puckered.  “You do look tired though, brat.  Did you stay up reading?  Your tutor is not giving you too much to do, is he?”

“No. I just did not sleep very well,” said Legolas, alarmed by this probing.

“Are you worried about something, iôn-nín?” Thranduil asked, in concern. “Are you having nightmares?”

“No!” Legolas glanced at his father and was dismayed to find Thranduil regarding him closely.  Thranduil was opening his mouth to speak again when Ithilden entered.

“I beg your pardon for being late, Adar,” he said, “but a messenger has just arrived to tell me that the border guards have reported that the arms shipment should be here around mid day.”

“Good,” Thranduil responded grimly, his attention diverted.  “We will settle this matter of the swords once and for all.”

Legolas eyed them cautiously. “What about the swords?” he asked.

There was dead silence for a minute as Ithilden and Eilian both looked at their father, obviously deferring to whatever answer he might choose to give.  “This is not something you need to worry about, Legolas,” Thranduil answered. “Eat your porridge or you will be late for training.”

Legolas scowled in frustration.  He really did not want to have to tell his father about the swords he and Turgon had found in the woods, but he was worried that perhaps he should.  Yet how could he know what to do if his family would not tell him what the matter was?  He struggled with the matter for a moment longer and then gave up and began to eat his morning meal.  If they would not tell him, then they would not tell him. 

***

Ithilden found himself gripping the edge of his father’s chair as they waited for the Men to be shown into the Great Hall.  Hastily, he dropped his hand to his side and schooled his face to impassivity.  Thranduil looked calm enough, but Ithilden knew from the stiff set of his shoulders that he was seething.  Now that they were about to confront the Men, he had allowed his temper to come to the boiling point again.  Ithilden had seen Thranduil do this before and then use his anger as a terrifying weapon against whomever he was questioning.  Ithilden had no doubt that if these Men were guilty, his father would soon know it.

Off to one side, Eilian stood with several other warriors at his back, holding the sword he had found in the Orc’s possession.  Ithilden knew that Eilian had been worried about the possibility of war with the Dwarves, although his tension had been easing as he gradually shed the burden that Shadow had laid on him in the South.  Now, however, he seemed to be the most relaxed of the three of them. Ithilden smiled wryly to himself. Eilian was probably hoping for a brawl. He had always been most comfortable when he could act.  Eilian caught Ithilden’s eye upon him and grinned broadly.  Thranduil frowned disapprovingly, and Eilian obediently adopted the expressionless mask that seemed to be so disconcerting to Men.

The doors opened.  “Master Rudd and Master Cadoc, my lord,” the guard announced, and the two Men walked into the Great Hall, each dropping to one knee before Thranduil.

“My lord,” said Rudd.  He looked at Thranduil quizzically. They usually met only with Ithilden, so he must have been wondering what had led to their being summoned before the king. 

Thranduil kept the Men kneeling for just a second longer than normal before indicating that they might rise.  “I trust you had a pleasant journey,” he said in an ostensibly amiable tone that made every Elf in the room cringe inwardly.

“We did, my lord,” Rudd answered cautiously.  He may not have known what the matter was, but he seemed to be able to sense the atmosphere in the Great Hall.

“The cargo you bring us from the Dwarves is one we had been looking forward to receiving,” Thranduil went on.

“We are glad to have been of service.”

“Do I understand that you have had charge of the weapons and armor all the way from Erebor?” Thranduil leaned toward the Men in apparent interest.

“Yes, my lord.  The responsibility has been ours.”

Thranduil smiled unpleasantly.  “Then perhaps you would care to explain this,” he said, reaching out his hand to accept from an attendant one of the swords that his armorer had brought to the Hall not fifteen minutes earlier.  He raised the sword slightly and then struck it against the floor, shattering it into several pieces, one of which Rudd had to dodge as it flew past his right elbow.  As the Men stared at the broken bits of blade, Thranduil opened his hand and dropped the hilt on top of them.  Even Ithilden flinched slightly at the clatter it made when it landed.

Thranduil now stretched his hand out toward Eilian, who stepped forward to give him the Orc’s sword.  “And perhaps,” Thranduil said, his tone shifting gradually from a purr to a snarl, “you would also care to explain how this sword came to be in the hands of an Orc who was using it against my people in the south.”  He drew the sword from its scabbard and extended it toward the Men for a moment before resting its length lightly across his lap, with its point still suggestively aimed at them.

Rudd and Cadoc both stood frozen, their eyes on the hard steel blade from which reflections of light now glittered.  Then Rudd looked up into Thranduil’s equally hard, equally glittering eyes.  “My lord,” he said, “I do not understand.”

Ithilden caught his breath in dismay.  He could swear that the Man was telling the truth.  He slid his gaze sideways toward his father’s face and saw a flash of uncertainty there too.  Surely Ithilden had not been mistaken about the honesty of the Dwarves?  Then Thranduil’s eyes shifted, and his face suddenly set in a look of fierce satisfaction.  Ithilden looked back at the Men.  Rudd continued to look puzzled, but Cadoc stood staring at the floor, and even from where he stood, Ithilden could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead.  “Ah,” he thought. “There.”

***

“Please let me in,” Legolas pleaded with the guard.  “I left my book in there, and I need it for my lessons. My tutor sent me to fetch it.”

The guards at the doors to the Great Hall exchanged a glance, and then one of them smiled sympathetically.  “Very well,” he said.  “But you must creep very quietly and come right back out. Your adar is -- ,” he stopped himself. “He is in the middle of a meeting,” the guard finished and the other guard grinned.

Legolas sighed in relief. His tutor had been very unhappy with him when he had come to the library without the book he had been told to finish the night before.  Of course, he had not quite finished the book either, so the tutor might very well be displeased even when he returned with it, but perhaps he would not realize that Legolas had not read the last few pages and, anyway, Legolas would deal with that when it happened.  The guard cracked the door open, and he slipped inside and moved toward the bench behind which the book lay hidden.

A group of people was gathered around his father’s chair at the other end of the room speaking in the Common Tongue, but he paid them little attention until his notice was caught by the icy menace in his father’s voice.  Legolas’s Common was just good enough that he could understand what was being said.

“And you, Master Cadoc?” Thranduil asked. “Do you understand why badly-made swords have been delivered to us and Dwarven weapons have appeared instead in the hands of the enemy?”

Legolas stared at his father, transfixed by how frightening he looked.  Legolas knew that people were afraid of his father, and indeed, Legolas was sometimes afraid of him too, but he had never seen Thranduil with his eyes so hooded and hard.

“I assure you, my lord, I know nothing of the matter about which you are asking.”

Legolas’s gaze shifted to the speaker, whose voice had quavered slightly.  To his surprise, he recognized the Man whom he and Turgon had seen in the forest.

“And yet Master Rudd tells us that the swords have been in your keeping since they left Erebor,” Thranduil said.  “How would you explain the fact that five of them seem not to be of Dwarven make?”

“I cannot explain it, my lord,” the Man answered, his voice now steadier. “I know nothing about it.”

“My lord,” interjected the other Man, “are you accusing us of dishonesty?”  To Legolas, he sounded indignant.

Thranduil’s gaze flicked to him and then back to the first Man, and he rose to his full, impressive height.  “I am accusing you of nothing, Master Rudd, but I find I am accusing your companion of dishonesty and indeed of something even more loathsome.  Whoever has been putting weak weapons in the hands of my warriors and good ones in the hands of the enemy has committed a treason for which I intend that he shall pay.”

Everyone in the room stood immobile, and Legolas found that he was holding his breath.

The Man his father was accusing was the first to recover.  He took a single pace backward and then said, “I assure you, my lord, I have faithfully delivered to you the weapons that the Dwarves have given us.”

His companion now spoke up too.  “What proof have you that Cadoc has meddled with the weapons, my lord? Surely you do not mean to condemn him based on your suspicions alone!”

He was answered by a moment’s silence.  “I have no proof yet,” Thranduil said coolly, “but I have no doubt I will be able to find some.”

Before Legolas realized what he intended to do, he had walked toward the tense group around his father’s chair.  “Adar,” he heard his own voice say.   For a second, no one reacted, and then they all turned toward him.  Legolas could see surprise quickly replaced by irritation in his father’s face.

“Legolas, what are you doing here?” Thranduil spoke in Sindarin.  He glanced toward the door, where one of the guards had now appeared and was moving hastily toward Legolas.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” the guard said and caught at Legolas’s arm.  He frowned at Legolas reprovingly and began to draw him toward the door.

“No!” Legolas jerked his arm free and started toward his father again.  “Adar, I have something to tell you about the swords and this Man.”  He pointed toward Cadoc with his chin. The guard hastened after him and caught at him once more.

“Leave him,” Thranduil ordered, and the guard stepped back a foot or two and waited uncertainly.

“What is he saying?” asked Cadod, who was apparently not able to follow the rapid flow of a language not his own.

Rudd apparently understood enough Elvish to be able to interpret. “He says he has something to say about you and the swords.”  He looked at Cadoc with a raised eyebrow, and the Man turned back to Legolas looking startled.

“This is a serious matter, Legolas,” Thranduil said.  “Whatever you have to say had better be important.”

Legolas swallowed hard.  “I have seen this Man with Dwarven swords in the forest,” he finally said.

Thranduil blinked. “What do you mean? When have you seen him?”

“I saw him at night when Turgon and I were hunting. He had swords hidden in a clearing not far from where the Men tie up their barge at night.”

The group around his father stirred, and Legolas could see Ithilden signal the warriors who were standing to one side. They moved quietly toward the Men.  Rudd began to murmur in Cadoc’s ear, apparently translating what was being said.

“Do you mean you saw him two weeks ago?” Thranduil asked.

Legolas hesitated and then resigned himself to the answer he had to make.  “Yes, and last night too.”

Thranduil stared at him, disbelief written on his face. He took a single step toward Legolas with his right hand lifting in a gesture Legolas could not read.  From the corner of his eye, Legolas could see Eilian stirring slightly. Then Thranduil turned and walked back to sit deliberately down again, gripping the arms of his chair.  “You were out in the forest last night?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Yes, Adar.”  Legolas bit his lip in misery but did not drop his gaze before his father’s angry glare.

“My lord,” said Cadoc indignantly, “I have never seen this child before in my life. He could not possibly have seen me anywhere.”  To Legolas’s dismay, he sounded as if he were telling the truth.  All of the adults looked at Cadoc and then at Legolas.

“I mean no disrespect, my lord,” said Rudd hesitantly, “but the lad’s claim to have been out last night seems to have surprised you.  Is it possible he is making this up, perhaps to draw attention to himself? Children do such things sometimes,” he added apologetically.

“I would not lie!” Legolas exclaimed.

Thranduil regarded him steadily.  “You and I will discuss your honesty at a later time,” he said forbiddingly.  Legolas flinched.  His father’s tone suggested that retribution for his disobedience and deception would be swift and unpleasant.

Suddenly Eilian spoke up. “My lord, if Legolas can show us where the swords are hidden, perhaps that will help to settle the matter of whether he saw what he claims to have seen.”

“Indeed it might,” agreed Thranduil.  “Take two warriors with you and get Legolas to show you where they are.”  Gratefully, Legolas realized that his father seemed to believe that he really had seen the swords in the woods.

Eilian touched his shoulder lightly, and Legolas looked up to find that his face was grave.  “Come, Legolas,” Eilian said. Legolas took one last look at his stony-faced father and then followed Eilian from the room.

***

Eilian led Legolas through the garden and toward the king’s stables. They were to meet the warriors who would accompany them outside the warriors’ stables, but right now, Eilian had something he needed to say to his brother. He stopped just inside the gate that opened on the path to the stables and turned to lift Legolas onto a bench that was nestled in a rose arbor there.  Now more or less on the same eye level, Legolas looked at him in surprise.

“The guards will be waiting,” he protested.

“Let them wait,” Eilian responded.  “Legolas, did you really sneak out of the palace and go hunting in the woods last night?”

His face clouded with misery, Legolas nodded.

Gripped by something between irritation and alarm, Eilian grasped his little brother’s shoulders. “What possessed you to do such a thing when Adar had just punished you for it?”

“Turgon needed to hunt,” Legolas said earnestly, as if this answer were obvious, “and the night is very beautiful.”

Eilian groaned.  When Legolas had been small, Eilian had often been unable to understand how Thranduil could bear to discipline him. In recent months, however, as his brother had begun to lose his childhood sweetness and turn prickly, he could sometimes see why his father took the measures he did.  Still, he did not want Legolas to get into more trouble than was needful. “Legolas, you are pushing Adar beyond what he will bear.  When we get back, you need to be very respectful and beg his pardon.  Moreover, it would not hurt to kneel while you do it.”

Legolas looked uncertain. “You mean like petitioners do?”

“Yes, and errant sons too,” Eilian told him, speaking from experience he did not intend to share with Legolas.  “You need to be genuinely sorry for what you have done, not just sorry you were caught.”  He looked with exasperation at the stubborn set of his brother’s mouth.  “He was tempted to strike you, brat.”  He could almost have laughed at the astonishment on the child’s face.

“Adar would not do that,” he protested.

“He would not usually,” Eilian agreed, “but he can be provoked into it, especially if he despairs of keeping you from rushing into danger in any other way.”  Legolas frowned at him, and before he could ask any questions that Eilian did not want to answer, Eilian lifted him down from the bench again. “Come,” he said. “Let us go retrieve those swords.”

*******

Thank you to all readers and reviewers. Only one more chapter. I thought I could do it all in this one but it was just getting too long, so I broke it in two.

Luin:  I think you’re right that Legolas would behave better if he understood more about the reasons behind Thranduil’s rules.  And I also think that if their mother had lived, she would have done things differently with Legolas. But Thranduil cannot help who he is. (Nor would you want him to!)

WhiteWolf:  Thranduil may not have been waiting in Legolas’s room, but the sky is falling now!

The Karenator: Turgon is such a bad influence and yet so hard to stay mad at.  I liked the idea that Thranduil eventually learned to check carefully to see if his youngest is indeed home in bed.  You would think he would!

Frodo3791:  One of the frustrating things about writing this story was that I spent most of it putting the pieces out there and then had them all fall together in one fell swoop.  So it was like all preparation for a short payoff.

Dot:  You are so right. If Thranduil hadn’t been distracted, the chance of Legolas even getting out of the palace would have been far smaller.  And yes indeed, I think Legolas has concluded that Ada may have been right and there are dangers in the forest after all.

Antigone Q:  All three of Thranduil’s sons seem to have inherited some of his less desirable traits.  Surely the scene in the Great Hall here is enough to scare Legolas into behaving himself for a while.

Camp6311:  Cadoc is in a world of trouble. And Legolas is in a fair amount too. :-)

Caz-baz: Well, Legolas finally told his father about the swords.  Covering for other folks who are off getting in trouble is never fun, I guess.

Bryn:  Legolas may have gotten home safely but then, as you see, he had to confess. Scary Thranduil is now ready to do damage.

Legolas4me:  I think that attention is just what Turgon needs.  That’s why he’s so loyal to his friends.  Poor thing.

Brenda G:  No, Legolas is responsible for his own problems, it seems to me.  And Ithilden is exactly the person I would want interacting with the king if I lived in Mirkwood.  Thranduil is scary and Ithilden is no pushover, but he is a little calmer.

Nilmandra:  Your analysis of Legolas is so good. Yes, he does need to understand ‘why.’  It will help him.

Kay:  I too was amused by the thought of Legolas regarding Turgon as an ‘inexperienced’ hunter.  Compared to who, elfling?

Erunyauve:  You’re right. Legolas can probably feel the tension and it would be better if he knew what it was.  He’s young, not stupid.

Karri:  Legolas and Turgon were very lucky to come back from the woods in one piece.  Now let’s see if Thranduil lets them stay that way!

LOTR Faith:  Legolas made an extremely bad choice and Thranduil is about to make sure he understand that. ;-)

Naneth:  Oh yes. Really, really ugly describes the situation nicely. Thranduil must be having trouble deciding where to bring the smackdown first.

JastaElf:  Ithilden and Eilian do quite well with their father actually.  He should be very proud!  They can usually manage him nicely.

Tapetum Lucidum:  “Of course Thranduil wants to kick some Dwarven butt - at least he won't have to kick very high.”  I actually had to think about this for a minute and then it made me laugh.   My days of deceiving my parents are long gone, but deceiving the kid still takes some effort sometimes.

JustMe:  You are so right. Legolas would have behaved better if he had known what was going on.  And now Thranduil is a little irritated!

StrangeBlaze:  Turgon makes me sad.  But Legolas is responsible for his own problems here, I think.

LKK:  I am growing increasingly fond of the two older brothers who seem to make a wonderful team in managing their difficult father.  Legolas just seems to provoke him.

Lamiel:  That lie to the guards was bad.  And he probably could have avoided it, although he would be telling a Clintonesque kind of truth I guess.  “I am staying with my friend (in the forest)”

Alice:  A quicker update this time.  Ithilden is good to have around although he himself needs some down time, I think, and now he’s afraid to go away!

Feanen: Thank you. Hope you like this chapter too.