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Growing Under Shadow  by daw the minstrel

I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien but they are not mine. I draw no profit from them other than an increased imaginative life.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading the chapter.

*******

10.  Just Deserts

Ithilden came suddenly to attention as Eilian entered the Great Hall followed by Legolas and two warriors, one of them with his arms full of swords.  Thranduil put down the scroll he had been pretending to read.  “What did you find?” he asked.

Eilian took the swords from the warrior and came to lay them at his father’s feet. “They were right where Legolas said they would be, my lord.”  He picked up one and flexed it lightly.  “They are wonderful weapons,” he said with reverence in his voice.

Thranduil glanced at Legolas. “Go to your chamber and stay there until I come to speak to you,” he commanded.  Legolas hesitated for a moment, evidently curious about what was going to happen.  “Now!”  Thranduil snapped, and with a last look backwards, Legolas fled from the room.  Ithilden felt a moment’s sympathy his little brother, who could not have picked a worse time to defy their already enraged father.  Unfortunately, Ithilden knew that Thranduil was highly unlikely to feel equally sympathetic.

Thranduil looked at Ithilden, his eyes gleaming.  “Send for Rudd.  Eilian, take warriors with you and fetch Cadoc from wherever they put him downstairs.”

The brothers rushed to obey.  Rudd would be nearby in one of the comfortable reception rooms, Ithilden knew, but at Thranduil’s orders, Cadoc had been locked in one of the strong rooms on a lower level.  He had protested at this treatment, but Rudd had not. He had apparently begun to develop some doubts about his companion.  “The guards downstairs will know which room he is in,” he told Eilian, and Eilian and the two warriors strode off the retrieve the unfortunate Man.

“Bring Rudd into the Hall,” Ithilden commanded one of the guards and was turning to go back to his father when his eye was caught by the sight of a maiden sitting on one of the benches where petitioners waited to be admitted to Thranduil’s presence.  It was Alfirin, he realized, the healer’s daughter he had met when he had visited the young warrior with the spider bite.  She was making notes of some kind on a bit of parchment. He paused for only a second before approaching her.

“Good day, my lady,” he greeted her and was charmed when she smiled at him.  She had a dimple in her right cheek.  “Are you waiting to see the king?”

“No, my lord. I am waiting for my Naneth. One of the cooks burned his hand, and she is treating him.”  At that moment, the healer herself emerged from one of the hallways.

“Good day, my lord,” she greeted him. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Alfirin.”

The maiden rose.  “That is quite all right.  I had an idea for the hanging I am making.”

“My daughter is a weaver, my lord,” the healer said with obvious pride. From the corner of his eye, Ithilden could see Rudd waiting for him, and he reluctantly prepared to bid goodbye to the healer and her daughter, who had moved into the center of the antechamber.

A sudden commotion drew everyone’s attention.  The warriors who had gone with Eilian were leading Cadoc into the antechamber, and he was not coming quietly.  Eilian trailed behind looking grim. The seriousness of Cadoc’s plight had evidently dawned on the Man and Ithilden could almost feel sympathy.  Being dragged before Thranduil for judgment would be a terrifying fate.

“You have no right to hold me,” he was shouting. “I am a citizen of Dale. I am not subject to your laws.”  Ithilden doubted that that argument would make much difference to Thranduil.

He glanced toward Alfirin and her mother, who had both stopped almost directly in the warriors’ path to stare at the obviously terrified Man. It would probably be best if they left before Thranduil took any action, he thought, and started to move toward them.  Suddenly, Cadoc lunged and before even the Elven guards had time to react, he had seized Alfirin and was backing away, keeping her in front of him like a shield. He had no weapon, but he had wrapped his arm around her throat and was tightening his hold.

“Move away or I will snap her neck,” he cried.

Ithilden stared in horror. Beside him, the healer had cried out when Cadoc had first seized the maiden and then clamped her hand over her mouth from which small moaning sounds were now escaping.  Alfirin’s face was turning bright red as she struggled to claw Cadoc’s arm away from her neck. Then, evidently surprising the Man with her strength, she managed to grasp the arm and tug it down far enough that she could draw in a ragged breath.  From the corner of his eye, Ithilden caught a glimpse of swift, sinuous movement, and suddenly Eilian was behind Cadoc. The Man gave a startled gasp and then, with agonizing slowness, he crumpled to the floor with one of the Dwarvish swords lodged in his back and Eilian standing over him with his eyes narrowed to focus only on Cadoc and his face looking savage and strange.  Abruptly released, Alfirin stumbled forward into Ithilden’s arms.

Pandemonium broke loose in the antechamber.  Warriors leapt forward to make sure that Cadoc was dead or at least no longer capable of harming anyone.  Rudd, too, rushed toward the other Man, just as Thranduil emerged from the Great Hall, drawn by the commotion.  The healer took one moment to reassure herself that her daughter was not seriously harmed and then she, too, started toward Cadoc.  “Get out of my way,” she demanded imperiously. “He needs a healer.”

Ithilden kept hold of Alfirin with one arm and grabbed at her mother with the other.  “My lady,” he commanded, “wait until we are sure it is safe.”  He fervently hoped that Cadoc was beyond any healer’s help, for such an outcome would simplify his life immeasurably.

The healer shook off his restraining hand.  “I will be the judge of where I am needed as a healer, my lord,” she snapped. “Get these people out of my way now!”

“The Man needs help,” Alfirin insisted, frowning into his face.  “You should not stop her.”  Ithilden stared at her.  Her mouth drew into a small pout when she frowned.

“Allow the healer to approach,” Thranduil commanded.   As the warriors stepped aside, it was obvious to everyone in the room that Cadoc was unlikely to benefit from anything the healer could do, and she crouched to touch the point on his throat where his pulse should have been and then stood up.  Ithilden was profoundly glad that Thranduil had sent Legolas away.  Keeping hold of Alfirin, he turned her away from the sight of the dead Man in the slowly spreading pool of blood.  He looked across the room at Eilian, whose face now looked familiar again. Eilian moved forward and took the healer’s arm.

“Come away, my lady,” he said gently and drew her toward her daughter.

Thranduil gestured to one of the guards.  “See to it that my palace is cleaned of this refuse,” he ordered and went back into the Great Hall.

His face pale, Rudd turned away from the body of Cadoc, and after a brief hesitation, followed Thranduil.  Ithilden was suddenly aware that he had duties to attend to that did not include continuing to hold on to the healer’s daughter.  With a hasty bow, he surrendered her to her mother.  “Look after them,” he told Eilian and went to attend on his father.

He found Thranduil seated in his carved chair with Rudd on one knee before him.  “I swear to you, my lord, that I knew nothing of Cadoc’s traitorous behavior.  Indeed, I find it almost inconceivable that anyone who has seen what the forces of darkness are doing to the land could have provided them with weapons.  I beg that you not judge the Men of Dale by one such as Cadoc.”  Ithilden had to admire the steadiness of the Man’s voice. Rudd was obviously shaken by what he had just witnessed in the antechamber, but like Ithilden, he had evidently decided that duty continued to govern him.

Thranduil studied the Man.  “What I am really curious about,” he finally said in a deceptively casual tone, “is what involvement the Dwarves may have had in this scheme.”

Rudd looked surprised. “I assume none, my lord.  For the most part, I was the one who dealt with Dwarves.  The Dwarven smith had taken a dislike to Cadoc and would not have him anywhere near his forge.”

Ithilden quickly suppressed a flash of triumph as both unworthy of him and likely to inflame his father.  He glanced at Thranduil to find that the king had turned to him with one eyebrow raised in wry concession.  “As I recall, we had contracted to buy two more shipments of arms,” Thranduil observed.

“Yes, my lord,” Ithilden confirmed, scarcely daring to trust the hope that had blossomed at his father’s words.

Thranduil turned back to Rudd.  “I will hold you personally responsible for those two shipments, Master Rudd.”

“Of course, my lord,” Rudd answered hastily.  “I would stake my life on the quality of weapons the Dwarves will send you.”

“That is only too true,” Thranduil answered, with an underlying note that made Rudd stiffen slightly.  “You may leave us.” The Man rose, bowed, and with a quick nod to Ithilden, left the Great Hall.

Thranduil turned his gaze thoughtfully on Ithilden.  There was a moment’s silence, and then Thranduil asked, “Have I told you how fortunate I feel to have you at my side, iôn-nín?”

Ithilden fumbled for an answer.  “I am honored to be of service, my lord.”

Thranduil rose, advanced toward him, and embraced him.  “You are of service not just to me, Ithilden, but to all of those around you. You are a formidable warrior, a troop commander who is respected by those who served under him, and a shrewd advisor to your king.  I find that my respect for you has grown to match the love with which I have always treasured you.”

Ithilden blinked in astonishment and gratitude.  “Thank you, Adar,” he managed to say.  “There is no one whose opinion I value more than yours.  I have always felt blessed to be your son.”  And to Thranduil’s obvious satisfaction, he kissed his father’s cheek.

***

Legolas lay on the floor, listlessly rearranging his toy warriors so that the one with the shiny silver sword could knock them down again.  Usually the captain was named ‘Eilian,’ but lately, he had begun to be called ‘Legolas.’

He had been in his room for what seemed like hours and his father had not yet come to see him.  He wondered what would happen to Cadoc.  Perhaps his father would keep him locked up in one of the strong rooms in the lower levels.  Or perhaps Thranduil would throw Cadoc out of the Woodland Realm and tell him never to come back.

He rolled over on his back and hopped the toy warrior captain across his own chest. He hoped that Turgon would not be angry with him for telling his father about the hunting trip.  Thranduil had needed to know about Cadoc and the swords, and truth be told, Legolas would not mind very much if his father prevented him from going hunting at night again for a while.  The trip with Turgon had not been nearly as much fun as he had thought it would be.  A snarling mother wolf had appeared in his dreams the previous night.  He frowned and sat up.  He wished his father would come.  At least then this terrible waiting would be over.

As if in answer to his wish, a knock sounded at his door, but whoever it was waited to be asked to enter, so it was not his father.  “Come in,” he said, and Eilian entered the room, carrying a tray that he placed on the table.

“I brought your evening meal,” Eilian said and then sat down in one of the chairs and waited for Legolas to put down the toy warrior and join him.  Legolas climbed slowly to his feet and then sat down at the table and picked up his fork.  He discovered that he was hungry. He must have been waiting for even longer than he thought.

“Is Adar coming to see me soon?”

Eilian shook his head. “He is too angry.  He will wait until he calms down a little.”

Legolas stared at him, with a forkful of venison paused halfway to his mouth.  He had seen how angry Thranduil was in the Great Hall, but it had never occurred to him that his father might be too furious to even talk to him.  “Why is he so very angry?” he cried.

“Think about it,” urged Eilian gently. “Are you not ashamed of at least some of your own behavior?  I usually find that the actions I am ashamed to have committed are those about which Adar becomes the angriest.”

Legolas looked down at his plate.  As it happened, he was ashamed of having deceived his father and outright lied to the guard.  He had never liked lying.  He looked at Eilian again. “I am sorry I told you I was going to bed when I meant to sneak out.”

Eilian nodded his acceptance of the apology.  “I would hate to think I could not trust you, brat,” he said gravely.

Legolas looked at him in dismay and then, with a cry, jumped from his chair and threw his arms around Eilian’s neck.  “You can trust me.  You will always be able to trust me.”

Eilian embraced him and then stroked his hair.  “Good,” he said lightly. “I will hold you to that. Let us make a pact.  You will trust me and I will trust you, and we will each live up to the other’s faith.”

Legolas smiled at him. He liked this idea. He and Eilian would rely on one another as fellow warriors did.  From now on, he would be honorable, he swore to himself.  He would be like Eilian.

***

Thranduil paused outside Legolas’s room. He had waited a full day and night before daring to come near his youngest son.  In the first flush of his anger, he had wanted to put his disobedient child over his knee and give him a thrashing the memory of which would make him hesitate the next time he was tempted to do something dangerous or forbidden.  But the death of Cadoc had slaked his need for vengeance and, with time, his temper had cooled. He now intended to use more subtle means to bring Legolas to a better understanding of what was required of him by honor and obedience, not to mention consideration for his own safety. Thranduil would decide on what punishment was most fitting when he saw how Legolas behaved in the next few minutes.  He knocked once and entered without waiting for an answer.

Legolas had been sprawled on the bed, but he came quickly to his feet and looked anxiously into Thranduil’s face.  Perhaps the lengthy wait had done some good, Thranduil thought.  Legolas at least looked concerned that he had displeased his father, even if Thranduil was not yet sure that his son fully felt the shame he should feel over his actions.  Legolas’s face became even more worried as he looked at Thranduil. Then he seemed to come to some resolve and, in a movement that surprised Thranduil, he dropped to his knees.  “I am so sorry, Adar,” he said with his eyes cast down.

Thranduil regarded him appraisingly. The penitent position was a good sign, although Thranduil knew very well that Eilian had probably advised Legolas to assume it.  “That is what you said the last time,” he responded austerely.

Legolas looked up, blue eyes wide and distressed by his father’s rejection of the apology.  “But this time I really am sorry. I have realized that you were right, Adar. The woods can be dangerous at night.  Turgon and I should not have gone there by ourselves.”

Thranduil seated himself in the chair near the bed, leaving his son kneeling before him.  If Legolas regretted his actions, that was a step in the right direction, but Thranduil had concluded that he could be sure his son would stay out of danger only if he fully understood the peril into which he had ventured.  “It concerns me, Legolas, that you accept the idea that the woods are unsafe not because you trust in the truth and wisdom of what I have told you, but because of the results of your own foolhardy actions. For some reason, you are intent on learning things the hard way.  I have wished to protect you, to allow your childhood years to be as free of knowledge of the Shadow as they could be, but I have realized that you are not going to allow that.”

A small frown crossed his son’s face.  “I am not an elfling any more, Adar.”

Thranduil sighed.  “No, I suppose you are not.” He regarded the kneeling child.  “You have decided that the woods are dangerous, but I wonder if you know just how dangerous.  You were very fortunate if you met Cadoc and he did not harm you. He seized a maiden in the antechamber yesterday and threatened to break her neck.”

Legolas’s mouth fell open.

“She was not harmed,” Thranduil went on gravely, “but he is dead.  And he is not the only danger you escaped, iôn-nín.  One of the Home Guard warriors was recently bitten by a giant spider less than three leagues from here.  Orcs have not come that close yet, but warriors on patrol farther from here meet them every day.  When I tell you that you may not roam on your own at night, Legolas, I am trying to keep you safe from these things and the other, more normal, dangers of the forest.  The creatures in the woods are not usually dangerous for us, but we do well to remember that they are wild animals who are not always predictable.”

Legolas had been looking a little dazed and now, abruptly, he cast his eyes down.  Thranduil stared at the bowed head, with sudden misgiving.  He hoped he had not frightened the child too much, but he had needed to make an impression.  He forced himself to keep his voice stern. “Why were you so determined to do this, Legolas?  What made you so careless of your own safety?”

Legolas chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Turgon said he would go by himself, and I did not think that was a good idea.”  Only with difficulty did Thranduil stop himself from groaning.  “And I do like being out at night, Adar.  I wish I had a window like Annael has so I could see the moon and the stars.”

“You cannot allow Turgon to lead you into doing things you know are wrong,” said Thranduil sharply.  “You have to learn to tell him that you will not do what he is urging.”

Legolas lifted his face and regarded him for a moment. “Turgon does not listen very well,” he finally said.

“Then tell him the same thing again,” said Thranduil firmly.  “I will not be happy if I find that you have ever again ignored your own better judgment simply because Turgon urged you to.”  Legolas looked at the floor again, and Thranduil wondered for what seemed like the thousandth time if there was some point to forbidding Legolas to have anything to do with Turgon.

“There is something else I need to speak of, Legolas.  You deceived me when you left the palace without permission, and I fear to ask, but I assume you deceived others too.”  Legolas flushed slightly, wordlessly confirming his father’s guess.  “Such deception is dishonorable, and I am deeply ashamed of you,” Thranduil went on, and the color of his son’s face deepened to scarlet.  “In behaving so deceitfully, you encouraged others to believe that you were lying about the swords too.  No one trusts a liar, Legolas.”  The first hint of tears had now appeared in his son’s eyes.  Good, he thought heartlessly, resisting the urge to comfort the child.  He had been softened by Legolas’s tears before, and he did not intend to let that happen now.

“I am sorry, Adar.” Legolas’s voice trembled slightly, but he went on. “I know that lying is wrong.”

Thranduil regarded Legolas thoughtfully.  His experience as a father told him that his son was ashamed of having been dishonest.  Moreover, Legolas’s claim to believe that dangers lurked in the forest at night had rung true. He thought that he could be reasonably sure that Legolas would not be venturing into the woods in the near future.  He was far less sure, though, that he had convinced his son of the wisdom of relying on Thranduil’s judgment rather than his own.  Very well, he thought, prospective disobedience was an issue he knew how to deal with.

“You may rise,” he said, and Legolas came to his feet, wiping surreptitiously at his eyes. Thranduil waited until Legolas had himself under control again. “Tomorrow, you and I are going to visit some of the wounded warriors in the infirmary.  And then you are going to spend a month working there in the afternoons after you have finished your lessons.”

“A whole month?” Legolas said in dismay.  “I will not have any time to ride or hunt.”

“The stable master will see to your horse,” Thranduil responded unsympathetically. “And if you had wanted time to play, then you should have minded me in the first place. The healers will not have time or patience for disobedience, Legolas, so you will have ample opportunity to learn to do as you are told.  And,” he added, “other than at training, you may not see Turgon during that month.  I have already told Turgon’s parents about the hunting trip.” Legolas looked even more unhappy at this piece of news, and Thranduil took grim satisfaction in knowing that the punishment on which he had finally decided had hit home.

He looked for a moment at the small figure before him, and his heart suddenly twisted with the painful and futile wish to protect him from any danger that might ever come his way.  Then he opened his arms and drew his son into an embrace.  “If you bear your punishment well, my heart, and show me that you mean to do better, then I promise you I will see to it that you have more chances to walk safely under the stars.”

Legolas flung his arms around Thranduil’s neck.  “I really am sorry, Adar.”

“I know you are,” Thranduil crooned and rocked him slightly in his arms.

***

Ithilden sat at his desk, skimming through the dispatches that had come in that morning.  His aide had done a good job of sorting them and taking care of the easier matters himself, but there were still problems requiring his attention.  The novice training program needed to be expanded and the novice master had devised a plan that might cost more than they had on hand. Ithilden bent his attention to it.

The aide appeared in the doorway.  “Lord Eilian is here,” he announced.

“Send him in,” Ithilden said, and Eilian entered, curiosity mixed with mild apprehension on his face.

“I am told that you wanted to see me,” he said, accepting the chair the Ithilden offered.

“Yes,” Ithilden responded. “I am sorry to interrupt your leave with business, but there is a matter I need to settle.” Eilian raised an eyebrow, looking for a moment, surprisingly like Thranduil.  Ithilden picked up one of the dispatches that Eilian had brought from Todith when he came home.

“Todith tells me he wishes to leave the Southern Patrol,” he began and saw Eilian suddenly come to attention with a concerned look on his face.  As well he might, Ithilden thought.  Eilian had been serving under Todith for a number of years now, and a change of command sometimes meant changes in practices to which warriors had grown accustomed and come to like.

“Is something the matter?” Eilian asked.

“Nothing unexpected,” Ithilden said with a small grimace. “He has begun to feel worn down by the Shadow.  I will transfer him to one of the Border Patrols.  His experience will be very useful, especially to the new warriors.”

Eilian nodded reluctantly.  “I am sorry to lose him, but I understand.”  He said no more and Ithilden wondered a little sadly just how well Eilian did understand.  His brother seldom talked about how the Shadow affected him personally, but Ithilden knew it must do so.  He pushed that unpleasant thought aside and continued.

“Todith recommends that you be promoted to his place,” he told Eilian and then sat back to watch his brother’s reaction.

Eilian’s eyes widened in surprise and then, slowly, a smile spread over his face. “Would you promote me like that?” he asked cautiously.

Ithilden smiled wryly.  There had been a time when he would not have been able to imagine that Eilian would ever be responsible enough to function as a captain.  But in the last few years, his brother had matured beyond any of his expectations and, Ithilden knew, beyond any of Thranduil’s expectations too.  “I would count myself lucky if you would accept the position,” he said.

Eilian’s smile grew into a grin.  “Then this is your lucky day, brother,” he crowed.

Ithilden laughed.  “You will carry the notices of Todith’s transfer and your promotion back with you.  You go three days hence?”

Eilian hesitated. “I had thought to leave the day after tomorrow.  I have a visit I want to pay.”

Ithilden leaned back in his chair and considered this answer.  He did not want to pry, but he loved his brother and did not like to see him doing something that might make him unhappy.  “I thought you said that she had asked you to stay away,” he said at length, “that seeing you was too painful.”

Eilian shrugged and gave a small smile. “I am hoping she has changed her mind.”

Ithilden sighed. Eilian was nothing if not optimistic. He wished he could help his brother, but this was one area in which Eilian would simply have to learn the way of things for himself.  Ithilden would have to be content with giving him the captaincy of the Southern Patrol.  Ithilden rose and extended his hand to clasp his brother’s arm.  “Congratulations. Let me know if there is anything I can do to make the change go more smoothly.”

Eilian too rose to clasp arms.  “Actually, there is something you could do.  Indeed, I think there might be two things.”

“What are they?”

“First, there is someone I want you to transfer.”  He looked hopefully at Ithilden.

“If you cannot work with the person, then I can arrange it,” Ithilden conceded. “Who is it?”

“Tinár.”

Ithilden laughed shortly. “I should have known.”  Eilian was not the first officer who had ever asked Ithilden to take Tinár off his hands, but Ithilden was disappointed anyway.  If Eilian could not manage the young warrior, then Ithilden was not sure who would be able to do it.  “Can you really do nothing with him?”

Eilian hesitated. “I think there are ways he can be made useful and, if you allow it, I will tell his new captain how I think he should be handled. But he has alienated so many of the warriors in the Southern Patrol that I think he would do better with a fresh start somewhere else.”

Ithilden nodded resignedly. “You said there were two things I could do. What is the second?”

Eilian eyed him hopefully.  “Do you think you might be able to send one of those Dwarven swords to Gelmir?”

***

With Thranduil behind him, Legolas stood before the two healers, who were now explaining to him what they expected from him during his month of working in the infirmary.  He knew the female healer, whose name was Gwaleniel, because she was the one who usually treated those who lived in the palace, and she had cared for all of his minor scrapes and bumps. Indeed, he had vague memories of her being very comforting when he had been sick with sorrow after his mother died.  He did not know the male healer, whose name was Belówen, because he usually treated warriors.  But both of them were now speaking to him very seriously.

 “Some of what we ask you to do will be unpleasant,” Belówen said, “but you will need to do what we tell you, when we tell you to do it, simply because we tell you.  There are sick people here and we do not have time to argue.  Can you do that?”

Legolas nodded.  Earlier, he and Thranduil had visited the three warriors who had come home with Eilian, and Legolas had been sobered by the sight of them.  One of them had been incoherent, and the healer had said he was still suffering from the effects of the poison on the Orc arrow that had penetrated his side.  The other two had been cheerful enough, but it was obvious even to Legolas that they were in pain. He knew that Thranduil had been trying to show him yet again that there were dangers Legolas was not yet ready to face, and he had to admit that the lesson had been an effective one.

“If you are not able to follow our instructions without question,” Gwaleniel put in, “you will be of no use to us and we will have to send you home. Do you understand?”

“I will do what you tell me,” Legolas said.  He had no wish to have to face his father with the news that he had been dismissed from the infirmary, and besides, he wanted to help these sick warriors.  After all, if one of his brothers were here, he would want someone to take good care of them.

“Very well,” Belówen conceded. “We will give it a try.”  He looked at Thranduil, who had been listening in serene silence.  “We will send him home in time for evening meal, my lord.”

“Thank you,” Thranduil said.  He bent to kiss Legolas’s forehead and then he was gone, leaving Legolas feeling a bit lost.

“Belówen,” an attendant called from the doorway, “Galemir is becoming agitated again.”

“Come,” the healer bid Legolas, as he immediately leapt to his feet and started down the hallway toward the room of the warrior who had been poisoned by the Orc arrow.  The warrior had indeed become much more restless than he had been when Legolas had seen him earlier.  He seemed to be fighting off imaginary enemies, for he was shaking off the hold of the attendant next to his bed.  As Belówen approached him, he slid from the bed, and the healer and the attendant seized his arms to try to get him to return to it.  Abruptly, the warrior sagged against the healer and then, without warning, he vomited onto the floor.

“Clean that up, Legolas,” Belówen commanded.  Legolas stared at the noxious mess.  “Now,” Belówen told him sharply. “You will find a bucket and mop over there.”  The warrior groaned and Belówen turned his attention back to his patient, murmuring soothing words. Legolas paused for only a second and then ran to get the bucket and mop.

***

Thranduil looked up as Eilian strode into the sitting room.  His son had been out riding, and the gleam in his eyes and high color in his angular face suggested that he had not been trotting sedately along the forest paths.  Thranduil smiled wryly.  “Come and share a cup of wine with me before evening meal,” he invited.  “I wish to congratulate you on your promotion.”

Eilian grinned, poured himself some wine, and took the chair into which Thranduil waved him.  “Ithilden told you then.”

“Yes, and I told him that he would find no one better to captain the Southern Patrol,” Thranduil said and was rewarded by a surprisingly shy smile from his son.

“I will do my best not to make Ithilden regret his trust in me,” Eilian said earnestly.

“I have no doubt that you will be a fine captain, iôn-nín,” Thranduil declared firmly.  “You have done well as a warrior and as your patrol’s lieutenant, and you have earned the right to lead others.”  Eilian flushed with pleasure at the praise, while Thranduil yet again swallowed the fear he always felt when Eilian’s departure for the south was imminent. He had always worried about Eilian’s recklessness, but his son had tempered that in recent years and Thranduil was beginning to be cautiously hopeful that, like his older brother, Eilian would grow into the position he had been born to.  And yet Thranduil wished that Eilian could be happy serving somewhere other than the dangerous southern reaches of his father’s realm.

The door opened again and Legolas entered. They both turned to him. “How was your first day at the infirmary?” Eilian asked.

Glancing at his father for permission to sit, Legolas flopped into a chair. “It was hard,” he said.  “I am not complaining, Adar,” he added hastily, turning to Thranduil.  “But I did work hard.”  Thranduil thought with some amusement that Legolas sounded proud of himself rather than disgruntled.  “The warriors from your patrol are still there, Eilian, and they needed looking after.  I cannot do the things the healers do, of course, but I did help keep things clean.”

“Did you do as the healers told you?” Thranduil asked, becoming serious again.

Legolas nodded. “They are very busy, so when they tell me to do things, I just do them. They cannot take the time to explain things.”

Thranduil could see Eilian hiding a smile as Legolas earnestly explained the need for obedience to his father.  “You must remember that, little one. Sometimes you have to do things just because a person you trust tells you to do them. Eilian is going to be the captain of his patrol now, and I am sure that he expects his warriors to obey his orders without arguing. Is that not so, Eilian?”

Eilian looked a little surprised at finding himself speaking on behalf of filial obedience -- as well he might, Thranduil thought.  But he nonetheless responded as Thranduil had invited him to. “Warriors do have to follow their captain’s orders,” he confirmed. “They get in a lot of trouble if they do not.”

Legolas grimaced slightly. He was evidently less charmed by the idea of following orders when Thranduil talked about it than he had been when telling of it himself.  The implications were probably only too clear to him.  Thranduil smiled. “Come here, Legolas,” he invited, and the child slid from his own chair and approached his father. Thranduil drew him onto his lap.

“Adar, I am too big,” Legolas protested, but he nonetheless allowed himself to be held. As Thranduil buried his face in his son’s golden hair and drew in the scent of him, he could not help feeling that he was losing something precious.  His last child was leaving the safe refuge that Thranduil had attempted to make for him. Legolas was determined to prove that he was no longer an elfling, and Thranduil knew that soon he really would be too big to hold on his lap.  But not yet, he thought fiercely, and tightened his embrace.  Legolas resisted for a moment and then leaned against his father, seemingly content for the time being.

But time flowed on even for Elves and Thranduil could not stop it.  He would have to trust that, like his brothers before him, his youngest son would survive the perils that lay all about him and struggle through to become an adult upon whom his father would gaze with loving pride.

*******

Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and I hope, enjoyed this story.

Camp6311:  Yes, Legolas was lucky that they were in the Great Hall and Thranduil had other matters to attend to. Otherwise he might have gotten a bit of a shock. And it’s always a good idea to let your imagination run wild where Eilian is concerned.

Erunyauve:  You are absolutely right.  Thranduil is pretty shrewd and he is an experienced father. And he raised Eilian. So if he had not been distracted, he would certainly have been much harder to slip past.

Legolas4me:  Thranduil is scary.  He is probably a good father to his sons but I don’t think I would have wanted him as my father.

Lady Berenice:  The Woodland King needed to ring because he was such a terrifying force all in himself.  And Legolas did the right thing in the end.

WhiteWolf:  Legolas does pay for confessing, but he needed to do it.  I can’t even begin to think about the guilt he would be feeling if he hadn’t!

TigerLily:  Legolas would have been shocked beyond measure if his father had hit him. I don’t think Elves were big on physical punishment. They were so clever, I doubt it they needed it often.

Frodo3791:  I thought that if anyone would understand what ticked off Adar would do, it would be Eilian.

Tapetum Lucidum:  Thank you!  I wanted that scene in the Great Hall to be really tense, but it’s hard to know just what’s going to make the reader squirm.  Legolas does make a good contrast to his older brothers who have learned how to handle Thranduil (for the most part anyway).

Draekon: Ack!! I screwed up the languages. You have an amazing eye for detail.  I knew that was going to be trouble. That’s what comes of writing stories set earlier in time. I had boxed myself into a corner.  I can’t even think of a way to fix it. I think I will pretend it didn’t happen. :: daw covers her ears with her hands and says “la, la, la” very loudly ::

Antigone Q:  That’s a really good comparison to the city streets.  I don’t think that Eilian has a fan club yet but my beta has declared that he belongs to her.  Maybe she will share.  PS  I tried to review your revised chapter but ff.net won’t let me because I reviewed it once already. I liked it. Now I feel like I know what’s going on.

Faenen:  Thank you.  I’m glad you’ve enjoyed this story.  I hope to see you back for the next one.

StrangeBlaze:  Thranduil scared even me and I was writing the chapter. He is a master at terrorizing hapless offenders.

JastaElf:  I HOPE Legolas learned something from this.  He was very lucky that Thranduil as in a public place with lots on his mind.  Otherwise the lack of time for riding would have been irrelevant since he would not have been able to sit a horse anyway.

Dot:  Legolas was really clueless. He even thought that Adar might scold Cadoc and send him on his way.  And I’m glad for Ithilden too.  Dealing with his father on a daily basis must be a bit of a strain.  To me, Eilian can be really maternal to Legolas.

Fadesintothewest:  I think Legolas may have been relieved by confessing in the long run. He’s not good at deception because he too is a good kid at heart.

BrendaG:  I am so glad you found the previous chapter tense.  I worked at making it that way but wasn’t sure anyone but me would be put on edge by it.  And I think you’re right that at least Legolas decided that saving his own skin was less important than giving his father information he needed.

Jay of Lasgalen:  Yes, I thought Legolas was brave too. I’m not sure I would have been able to confess to Thranduil even if he did need to know about the swords.

LKK:  I tried to be gentle, just as you ordered. What do you think?  Is the image of the sheltered little prince mopping up puke appropriate?

Naneth:  Thranduil should be used to strong-willed children by now but Legolas did seem to be pushing him to the edge.  I am so glad I tied your stomach in knots!

JustMe:  Eilian’s advice was useful, I think. But Legolas didn’t do too badly. Thranduil took time to cool down and probably consumed a big bottle of Dorwinian while waiting!

Elemmire:  “What wasn’t said” – that made me smile.  I think what isn’t said is often important with Eilian.

The Karenator:  I never thought about Eilian “wiping the grin off his face” in response to Thranduil’s frown, but you’re right. That’s exactly what he did.  Thranduil wanted to smack Legolas, but he didn’t, which it the important part, I guess.

Tolkien Fan:  Oh, good lessons. And Thranduil does learn to trust Ithilden more, which he deserves because he’s smart and responsible.  I’m thinking I might do a story one day that would have long flashbacks to the youths of both Eilian and Ithilden. Thranduil could tell Legolas the stories. It would be fun!

LOTR Faith: Legolas appreciates your sympathy. He wants to know if you are willing to come over and empty some bed pans for him.

Nilmandra:  Thank you so much for all of your support and idea and patience while I worked on this.  You are the best beta even if you are occasionally cruel!  ;-)

Luin:  Thranduil was pretty scary here.  And I love the picture of you made so tense by the chapter that you had to get up and walk around. I think Thranduil excludes Legolas partly because of how upset Legolas got over any talk of Orcs after his mother had died.  Thranduil just got in the habit of not sharing with him.  And it’s time for that to change.  And I agree. Ithilden is a lot like his father.  (Thranduil would like you to know that anyone comparing him to Elvis is in trouble.  Perhaps you would like him to come over and be kingly in your house?)





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