I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling into ruin and I alone could save her, so using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs. 
Faramir, Two Towers
 
Chapter 2: Of grief

Legolas sat stiffly at the meeting table in the Great Hall, in an effort not to fidget. His attention was not nearly as focused on the morning council meeting as it normally would be. Concentration was ridiculously difficult recently. The fact that Berior cast him regular glares from where he sat copying at one of the scribe's tables did not improve the situation.

"The last matter we have to discuss is Tulus's first report," Hallion was saying.

Legolas's gaze snapped to the king's steward.

He was flattening a small, rolled up piece of paper. Though the runes on it were tiny, they were clearly in Tulus's hand. Legolas stared at it. He truly missed Tulus. He would have under the best of circumstances, but it was especially true in light of how...unfriendly, annoying, meddlesome, heavy-handed his new guard, Tureden, had been thus far.

Hallion handed Tulus's report to Dolgailon. Dolgailon took it and his eyes darted back and forth as he quickly scanned it.

"Can you explain to me why she is buying horses?" Thranduil asked as he read.

"The smaller villages in the south have been asking for horses for years, my lord," Engwe replied, his tone dramatically bored. The council had run late this morning.

"Surely my adar mentioned that to you at least once. He promised that he would," Dolgailon added, handing the note back to Hallion.

Legolas held out his hand for it as his father obviously searched for any memories of such a conversation with Aradunnon and finally found them.

Hallion glanced at Thranduil. When the king nodded his permission, Hallion handed the paper to Legolas. Galithil leaned over his cousin's shoulder to read it with him:

Men from the western plain
are in the village, negotiating
to sell her ten horses--two for
each village in the south.
Mare and stallion.

Legolas looked back at his father.

"If I recall correctly, Aradunnon defended the idea of the horses saying it would improve communications between the villages and to the stronghold?" Thranduil asked Dolgailon.

Dolgailon nodded. "And I agree with that argument, my lord. I also would have begged you for the horses, if adar had not already led me to believe it would be a fruitless battle."

"Aradunnon and I proposed it several times to no avail," Golwon confirmed.

Thranduil leaned back in his chair and scowled. "We barely have enough horses for the patrols. I cannot supply villages with horses. Do you think we should let her buy them? Would they be worth the damage it might do?"

Dolgailon held the king's gaze and remained silent, thinking.

"It would not," Galithil said before Dolgailon could reply. "Nothing is worth allowing her to further undermine Dolgailon's authority in that village or the king's in this forest. And providing those villages with horses is even more significant than arming the village guards with swords. When she bought the swords, she bought loyalty in one village. When she buys horses for five villages, she buys loyalty in the entire southern half of this realm. She is expanding her influence. It cannot be allowed."

Hallion nodded. "Those were my thoughts exactly. Unless you can argue convincingly otherwise, Dolgailon, I think we must find a way to put a stop to this."

"To be frank, my initial response is to agree with Galithil and Hallion," Thranduil said.

Dolgailon loosed a long sigh. "I must also agree. We cannot allow her to provide such extravagant gifts to the villages. It is a terrible pity, though. Horses could save lives in those villages, if the guards could use them to run orders and more thorough information than can be sent via bird." He paused and continued in a half-joking tone. "Could we steal her gold somehow and use it to buy the horses ourselves? If Tulus can spy on her to get this information, he could steal the gold, I would wager. It is not wrong to steal it, given the methods she used to obtain it herself."

Thranduil laughed. "If I could steal that gold, I would do it without the slightest qualm. Excellent idea. I will tell Tulus to do it if he can. As for the horses, how will we prevent her from buying them without angering the villagers she has undoubtedly already promised them to? If I openly intervene to stop her supposed generosity, I will drive those villagers even closer to her than if I let her buy the horses to begin with. At least if I let her buy them, I end up with ten horses for Legolas's suffering."

"You already have ten horses, my lord," Legolas replied. "We led at least ten horses from the men's camp and Anastor and I each rode one as well. Are they decent stock? I confess, I did not bother to pay attention, but if they are, why not give those horses to the villages and usurp Manadhien's plan?" He smiled coldly. "And then steal the gold too, by all means."

Thranduil frowned, considering that suggestion. "I had planned on using those horses for the warriors and the Path Guard," he said, looking back at Dolgailon and Golwon for their opinions.

"The southern villages need horses more than the Guard needs spare horses," Dolgailon said, as Golwon nodded. "I would prefer to see them go to the villages."

"You are the authority on both those areas, Dolgailon. It is your decision." Then Thranduil directed himself to Hallion. "Let the villages have the horses. I doubt we can provide a mare and stallion to each village, but there were a few mares amongst them, I seem to recall. So they will be able to breed them and hopefully get more mares doing so. How should we deliver them? It would raise suspicions if I send ten horses south just as she is negotiating for the same thing. She would surely conclude someone betrayed her plans and it would put her on her guard. We do not want that. It would prolong the amount of time we will need to spy on her."

"I will take them south and distribute them myself, if that suites you, my lord," Dolgailon said. "I can play ignorant of her plans, explain how we got the horses and say that you thought of the villages' needs when you so fortunately came into extra stock. That will please the village leaders. And then, when I come into my village and 'hear' that she was planning to buy horses herself, I can remind her such decisions are not hers to make. I would enjoy asking her where she got such a sum of gold and watching her try to explain that, as well."

Thranduil considered that suggestion silently for a long moment. "I do not like the idea of you going anywhere near her," he finally said.

Dolgailon's brows rose dramatically. "I am this realm's troop commander," he exclaimed. "I have five hundred years experience as an officer. Surely I can be trusted to defend myself against a single elleth, while protected by my guard and watched by seven spies, one of whom once also served the King's Guard."

"A single elleth with an unknown number of servants--at least four--in hiding, who has openly declared she intends to murder everyone here, has proven she is willing to do so, and who you yourself believe command orcs," Engwe repled dryly.

"Indeed," Thranduil agreed. "I am not comfortable with you going to that village."

I do not like it either," Galithil interjected, "but still I would recommend that he go. I would even recommend that he stay there in the interest of better controlling the damage she can do."

Dolgailon cast a glare at his younger brother intended to silence him.

"If he stays, it might drive her away," Legolas said. "I truly believe that she only stays there to build her little realm. If that becomes impossible because Dolgailon returns and takes it away from her--if she leaves--she will be harder to spy upon and we may never get all her servants. She may even completely disappear herself."

"She had better not, for Tulus's sake," Thranduil muttered.

"Maybe," Galithil conceded, addressing Legolas and distracting him from his father's threat. "But at the very least, someone in this family--preferably Dolgailon or the king himself--needs to deliver these horses to remind those villages who has provided for them for two ages of this world."

"She would definitely flee if adar went south," Legolas said. "Just as she left the village the last time he travelled there. She knows he will recognize her. Dolgailon, on the other hand, she fancies to be ignorant. Assuming he could manage to continue playing ignorant, he is really the only member of the family she will not run from, other than you and I."

Galithil looked at Thranduil, drawing a breath to speak.

"There is no possibility. None at all," Thranduil said before Galithil even finished his breath. "Do not even dream of suggesting that I should allow you to take those horses south." He turned back to Dolgailon. "You may go. But remember this: I cannot afford to lose you, Dolgailon. There is no one else I could trust to command this realm's warriors."

"I do not plan on dying, uncle," Dolgailon replied, ignoring Engwe's dramatic sigh.

"Neither did Celonhael," Thranduil answered. "Neither did Legolas plan on being abducted. Both happened. Legolas and Celonhael do not have your battle experience, but neither are they defenseless. This is not warfare, it is treachery, and that is something none of us have experience enough to match hers."

"I am forewarned, my lord," Dolgailon said calmly. "I will be careful. But I agree with Galithil that I should be the one to deliver those horses. If for no other reason than I told Manadhien that I would not tolerate her making decisions like buying those swords again. She has ignored my command and I cannot let that pass. I must respond to it."

Thranduil frowned. "Handle it carefully. Do not anger her enough to drive her away. I will send a message to Tulus alerting him that you will be visiting the village in case Manadhien reacts in some extreme manner. And we will speak to Conuion about the possibility of sending another guard with Galudiron."

"Very well," Dolgailon replied, obviously choosing not to argue.

"If that is decided, I think that is all for the morning," Hallion said, beginning to gather the papers in front of him.

Everyone looked at the king to dismiss the council.

Instead, Thranduil leaned forward. "There are two more issues that I would like to resolve," he said speaking quietly, as he did when he did not want the scribes to hear their conversation. "I believe we can dispense with them quickly."

Hallion stopped straightening papers and looked at the king with slightly raised eyebrows.

"First is the matter of who will assume Celonhael's duties," Thranduil continued. "I have given a good deal of thought to that and discussed it with Lindomiel, since it is she that worked most closely with Celonhael in his primary duties of managing foreign trade and the realm's finances. We agreed that Berior is the most obvious choice to take his father's place..."

"Berior is a child, Thranduil," Engwe interrupted. "You cannot send children to negotiate with men in Dale and Esgaroth."

"Berior will be of age in five years. We can use that time to ensure that he can manage his father's duties. He is already familiar with them to some degree, after all. Berior served in his adar's office as long as Legolas has served mine and Galithil has served the Troop Commander," Thranduil retorted firmly. Then he continued in a calmer voice. "The queen can manage trade until Berior comes of age. Besides, I am recommending that Berior assume the responsibility of managing the realm's finances, including planning trade, but not necessarily directly negotiating it. I would want to see more of his interactions with foreign realms before he did that." He turned to Legolas. "I have seen something of Legolas's dealings with men and dwarves and I have been quite pleased with them. We need someone who can get along with Men--at least better than any of us can feign to do. Legolas seemed disposed to genuinely making an effort to work with them. Lindomiel and I agreed Legolas might be more suited to conducting negotiations with her."

Legolas met his father's gaze and he knew he looked eager. Perhaps over-eager. He could not help it.

"Legolas is also a child," Engwe said.

"Who will be of age in four years," Thranduil replied, "and who already serves this council."

"Granted. He is also already committed to the warrior training," Engwe added.

"Legolas will find that his duties to this council sometimes supersede his duties to this realm's military," Thranduil countered.

"I would like to do it, my lord," Legolas interjected quietly.

Thranduil nodded in acknowledgment. "Can you suggest anyone better, Engwe?" he asked.

Engwe looked at Thranduil sidelong. "I cannot," he said crossly.

"Anyone?" Thranduil asked, looking around the table. "Does anyone object to me speaking to Berior about this?"

Galithil cast a glance at Legolas.

"May I suggest that when you speak to Berior about expanding his service to the king's council, you also discuss with him your decisions regarding Glilavan, my lord?" Legolas said quietly.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "I do need to discuss that with him, true enough," he replied. "Anything else?"

No one spoke.

"In that case, I will approach Berior this morning when we are finished," Thranduil said. Then he reached to the floor next to his chair and picked something up.

As he did, Galithil seized Legolas's right arm, to claim his attention. "Lucky!" he whispered into Legolas's ear. "If you get to go to Dale or Esgaroth, you had better argue to your adar that I get to go too."

Legolas grinned at him, nodding.

"Do not forget, Aunt Lindomiel is going to Dale next week," Galithil pressed.

"Adar is hesitant to let me out of his sight at the moment, Galithil. He is not going to let me go to Dale."

"He might. You never know unless you try."

Legolas looked at the ceiling, laughing quietly and shaking his head. When he turned his attention back to the council meeting, he froze. His father was unsheathing the third of three swords--the other two were already displayed on the table. The one in his hand was Demil's.

Dolgailon and Engwe both loosed quiet whistles, openly admiring the blades before them.

Legolas eyed them as if they were poisonous snakes.

"This is Legolas's business," Thranduil said, turning the sword and not noticing Legolas's reaction to it. "It is fine workmanship." He stood, demonstrating its balance.

Legolas pushed his chair away from the table and stood himself, gaze locked on the sword.

"To be honest, it is a much better blade than the one I was able to purchase from the dwarves for you," Thranduil continued. He swung the sword a few times.

Legolas took a step back from the table.

"It is yours if you want it," Thranduil concluded.

Everyone at the table immediately began murmuring.

Legolas's gaze moved from the sword to his father's face. "I want nothing to do with it," he replied immediately.

Thranduil's brows climbed. "Take some thought before you decide that. It, along with its mates, are quite possibly the finest quality weapons I have ever seen..."

"I care nothing for its quality. Use it yourself. Give it to Galithil, if he is willing to wield it. He is far better with a sword than I. Give it to Berior. His father's death earns him some recompense, surely. Or to Dolgailon. The Troop Commander merits a fine sword. Give it to any of the warriors in this realm. Or wiser still: sell it and see it out of this realm. It should fetch a fine price. But I do not want it," Legolas said with determination.

"Legolas, swords of this quality do not exist in this Age. No one in Middle Earth has this skill," Thranduil argued, still admiring the sword. "It was likely made in Valinor. Or, at the very least, by dwarves in Beleriand..."

"Perhaps Feanor himself forged it," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with disdain.

That made Thranduil look at him sharply.

"I will not wield a sword that was used to spill elven blood in Menegroth." Legolas continued. Then he laughed bitterly. "One that likely spilled my own adar and daeradar's blood in Menegroth and certainly spilled mine right here in this forest. No, thank you. Dispose of it as you will, but do not expect me to touch it. I deem it corrupted by ages of evil use and I want nothing to do with it."

That speech had driven Thranduil to place the sword on the table. "Well argued," he said in a much more subdued tone than he had been using to describe the sword's quality only moments before. "You are certain you do not want it and you will not change your mind?"

Legolas nodded. "It would please me best never to see it again."

"Very well," Thranduil said, looking at the rest of his council. "I have adar's sword. I do not want any other. Do any of you want it?" he asked.

Engwe immediately shook his head. So did Hallion and Golwon.

"That is whose sword, my lord?" Dolgailon asked. "Fuilin's or one of his brothers?"

"It is Demil's," Thranduil confirmed. "The other two belonged to his brothers."

Dolgailon looked at the swords longingly a moment more and then turned away from them with obvious regret.

So did Galithil.

"I want Fuilin's," Berior said, approaching the table. Legolas's reaction had drawn the attention of the scribes. "Which one is his?"

Legolas closed his eyes.

"This one, if I am not mistaken," Thranduil said quietly, nudging one of the swords closer to Berior. "You certainly have the right to take it as a weregild for your father if you would like."

"I would like," he said, picking up the sword and inspecting it. "When you took his sword, you should have killed him with it. As you did Demil," he said quietly.

Legolas turned a glare on his cousin. It was not Berior's place to question the king's decision and that was the least of the problems Legolas had with that statement.

"You killed...!" Golwon blurted loudly, cutting himself off with a glance towards the scribes' tables. "You killed Demil, Thranduil?" he continued in a much quieter voice. "I assumed one of the guards... I did not think that you, personally... Not that it would be better for one of the guards, I suppose..." He drifted to silence, staring at the king.

Engwe looked a little ill. "Please tell me that you did not execute him, Thranduil," he whispered.  

"Certainly not," Hallion said reprovingly. Then he reached for Berior and drew him to stand in front of him, with a hand gripping each of his upper arms. "Govern you tongue, Berior," he admonished, though his tone was gentle. "Demil died in battle. Defending oneself against an attack is much different from being the attacker or from killing a prisoner that is already subdued, as Fuilin and Mauril were when the king came upon them."

"Killed in battle or executed--either way, a dead enemy can no longer harm anyone else," Berior retorted. "I am glad the king killed Demil and I still think he should have done the same with Fuilin and Mauril when he had the chance, prisoners or not, before they killed more innocent people."

"You do not understand what you are saying," Hallion said. He was still holding Berior's arms and he gave him a slight shake to draw his attention. "You do not comprehend how horrible and difficult what the king has already been forced to do is. Surely you would not add to that burden?"

Berior's brow furrowed. "Why would the king execute one criminal, but not the others who are guilty of the same crime..."

"You are making assumptions," Legolas intervened. "Ones I cannot allow..."

"Legolas," Thranduil immediately cut him off. "There is no need for you to add anything to this conversation."

Legolas shook his head, gaze fixed on the table. "No, I cannot remain silent. I will not allow my own adar to take blame for my actions, especially if doing so leaves anyone with the impression that, having supposedly killed one elf, he should be expected to kill more."

Everyone turned to stare at Legolas.

"What is he saying, Thranduil?" Hallion whispered.

Legolas glanced his uncle sidelong. Hallion did not know all the details of what had happened on that plain. That truly surprised Legolas. "I killed Demil," he answered when the king remained silent. He was quite pleased with how steady his voice sounded.

"You killed him, Legolas?" Berior exclaimed. He looked as if he might have fallen over if Hallion had not still been holding on to his arms. Shock mingled with guilt in his eyes. To Legolas's horror, he also saw admiration and satisfaction in his cousin's face.

"He attacked Anastor and I when we were trying to escape from the men," he explained in response to the stares of the council. "I had no choice but to fight him. I tried to disarm him, but I did not have the skill. When Dannenion joined the fight and Demil took his arm, it was obvious...I had to...so I took the next opportunity he gave me and I killed him. My greatest regret is that I hesitated...waited too long to prevent Dannenion from being so gravely wounded, but at least none of us were killed ourselves." He turned to Berior. "So, you see I do know, beyond any doubt, that I am capable of killing an elf to defend the citizens of this realm, if need be. I trust that I have satisfied the concerns you expressed last night."

Berior's chin trembled. He clenched his jaw tightly for a moment. "Of course you have, my lord," he finally said quietly.

Legolas scowled, angry with himself. Berior was grieving. He was not the master of his own actions or words. "I apologize, Berior. I did not intend to mock you..."

"It is I that owe you an apology, my lord," Berior interrupted.

"Enough," Thranduil said, laying one hand on Berior's shoulder and the other on Legolas's. First he turned to Berior. "Go put that away," he said nodding at the sword. "I would like to speak to you after your work in the Hall is done. Please come to my office as promptly as you can." He turned Berior towards the doors and gave him a slight shove, sending him off.

Berior hurried away without daring to look back.

Then Thranduil addressed his council. "That is all for the morning. It goes without saying that nothing discussed here will be repeated. To anyone. Dismissed."

No one moved. Instead, they all, even Galithil, continued staring at Legolas.

"Dismissed," Thranduil repeated.

Even then, no one moved until Hallion finally shook himself into motion, gathering up the papers in front of him. Slowly, everyone else stood and walked away from the table in utter silence.

"I did not intend for that to happen," Thranduil said, once they were alone.

Legolas shrugged in an effort to appear more unconcerned than he felt. "It was bound to happen eventually and it is over with now. Frankly, that is a relief."

"You did not need...."

"As I said, adar, my conscience would not allow me to remain silent while you took blame for something I did," Legolas insisted.

Thranduil leaned over and kissed Legolas's forehead. "You never fail to impress me, ion nin." Then he glanced at the table, towards Demil's sword. "I should have thought more carefully about...." his voice faltered. When he continued, it was very rough and filled with grief. "I certainly should have considered how seeing it would affect you. I apologize."

Legolas resolutely stared at a space somewhere behind his father, too absorbed in his own struggles to notice anything else. He only managed to shrug again.

Normally, such a lack of response would earn at least some reprimand, but his father made no reaction. He only squeezed Legolas's shoulder. Then he gathered up the remaining swords on the table. "Would you like to join me in my office? You can help Hallion write the final orders for the queen's trip to Dale." He forced a smile as he began to leave the Hall. "And I am certain the explanation of when your cousin Berior began addressing you as his lord will be entertaining."

Legolas tried to hide a grimace. That was an explanation that he did not care to make. "I am late for training, adar," he answered, hoping that revelation would be enough to distract his father from his curiosity.

It was.

"You are returning to training today?" Thranduil asked, stopping and turning fully towards Legolas. "Did Nestoreth approve that?"

"For me to go to the classes," Legolas replied, nodding. "And perhaps archery training, she said, but no contact. I will obey her orders, adar."

"Even in the classes, you handle weapons. You may find sword work...challenging, Legolas. I could not even look at a blade for months after we fled Menegroth," Thranduil said quietly. "Given your reaction here..." he hefted the swords in his hand, "I am concerned..."

"I will be fine, adar. I do not want to miss too much."

Thranduil scanned him. "Very well," he finally said. "If you are certain." He waved his hand to give permission for Legolas to leave.

Legolas managed a smile when his father conceded so easily, and, as Thranduil turned towards the door behind the throne, another thought occurred to him. "My lord," he called, "About the queen's trip to Dale..."

Thranduil stopped and turned partially. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for Legolas to continue.

"May I go with her?" he asked, trying to sound as if what he was requesting was perfectly reasonable.

Thranduil's back stiffened and he drew himself up, frowning, but before he spoke, he checked himself. "We will discuss that suggestion with Tureden and Conuion--and the queen--later," he replied. "This evening, perhaps."

"Thank you, my lord," Legolas said, bowing to hide a smile. His mother would argue in favor of him going. And if she did, the argument was all but won. He was glad he took his cousin's advice.

*~*~*

Legolas rushed out of the Great Hall through its main doors. Tureden was waiting for him in the antechamber, chatting with Galuauth, who was guarding the door to the family chambers. His new guard took a step towards him as he emerged from the Hall.

"You are late for training," he said.

Legolas frowned. Tureden sounded stern. Chastising, really. Indeed, he addressed Legolas as if speaking to an ill-behaved child.

Legolas tried to remind himself that Tureden was accustomed to commanding the King's Guard as its First Lieutenant. He was used to giving orders and reprimands. Moreover, Legolas knew he could not expect the same easy relationship with Tureden that he had enjoyed with Tulus. He and Tulus were friends long before Tulus became his guard. Before Tureden was assigned that duty, he had spent most of his time in his office, managing the day-to-day affairs of the Guard. He and Legolas had spoken perhaps two dozen times in his entire life, most of them when Legolas had been a very young child.

Still, Tureden's demeanor during their as yet limited interactions had done nothing to endear him to Legolas. What would Tureden have preferred? That Legolas simply walk away during morning council, since it conflicted with his training schedule? The king would certainly have approved of that!

"Tulus used to get my weapons and a tunic for me when morning council ran late," he said, striding past Tureden without pause. He passed quickly through the doors to the family quarters that Galuauth held open for him.

After a moment, Tureden stalked after him. "I am neither Tulus, nor am I your servant," he responded testily when he caught up to him. "I am your guard."

Legolas fought a losing battle not to roll his eyes. In his peripheral vision, he saw Tureden frown. Legolas turned a cool look on him while pulling at the fastenings of the formal robe he had worn in his father's court with one hand and opening the door to his room with the other. "Indeed you are my guard and not my nursemaid," he finally responded. "Let me worry about being late for training if you are going to do nothing to help prevent it."

With that, Legolas stepped into his room and closed the door before Tureden could follow him in. He would be in enough trouble with the training officers for arriving late. He did not need a lecture from Tureden too. He tossed his formal robe onto the bed, pulled a tunic from his wardrobe, caught up his bow, quiver and sword and marched back out of his room, ignoring the glare Tureden aimed at him. Since Tureden could not be bothered to even offer the simple courtesy of helping him, Legolas juggled all his weapons in one hand while fastening his tunic with the other. He was adjusting his quiver straps as he jogged across the bridge over the river and had only just buckled his sword belt before entering the shack that housed the duty officer for the training program. Tureden stopped outside the door of the shack as Legolas took the four steps into the building two at a time.

"I apologize for being late, sir," he said, as he entered. Coming to stand in front of the small desk in the shack's single room, he glanced at the schedule on the slate board that hung on the wall behind it. He cursed to himself--the first class he would be in time for, and only then if he hurried, was tactics, with Langon. Langon the Dragon. Legolas quickly turned his attention to the officer sitting behind the desk.

Pathon was the duty officer today and he was looking at Legolas with a raised eyebrow, obviously awaiting an explanation.

"I was in the Great Hall. Morning council ran later than normal," Legolas said. That sort of explanation had never earned any sympathy from Glilavan, who normally was the officer everyone reported to. Legolas always could expect discipline for arriving late to training. That fact was what inspired Tulus to fetch his weapons for him.

To Legolas's astonishment, Pathon only nodded. "So I heard from Galithil. He made it here before you, though." He paused and again waited for an explanation.

"The king wanted to speak to me," Legolas said.

Pathon looked back at the papers in front of him, apparently satisfied. "You have missed the first class. Move it, so you do not miss any of the second. And be certain to speak to Hebor about what you missed in your survival skills class."

Trying not to show his surprise--there was no need to invite discipline--Legolas saluted and sprinted out of the shack.

"What sort of extra duty did your lateness earn us?" Tureden asked, taking several long strides and then breaking into a run to catch up to his charge.

Legolas shot an annoyed glance over his shoulder. "None," he answered curtly, jogging without pause across the training field. At its far side, the First and Second Years stood in two lines.

Langon stood at the head of their lines, but he had not yet begun the class. Instead, he was reading a message that one of the Troop Commander's messengers had carried to him. The messenger was just leaving the field. Legolas took some twisted satisfaction from the fact that the messenger was late too, if that message was only now arriving in Langon's hands. Dolgailon always had his correspondence ready to be delivered before morning council began. Langon tucked the message into his tunic and started to address the class.  

Legolas ran faster. Even with the distraction of the message, he would be late and that would be unpleasant.

"How good of you to join us this morning, Legolas," Langon interrupted himself to say as Legolas tried to pick up a practice sword and slide unobtrusively into the line of First Years between Anastor and Noruil, across from Galithil in the Second Year line. Langon put his hands on his hips and glared at Legolas.

"I apologize for being late, sir," Legolas repeated, intending to give him the same explanation he gave Pathon.

"Morning council, yes, I have heard. Pay attention," Langon concluded for him.

He was not too angry then. Whenever Langon answered his own questions, he did not really care about the topic very much. Langon's reaction was certainly a pleasant surprise. Tureden's, on the other hand, was not. Rather than taking a place in line with Legolas, as Colloth stood with Galithil, Tureden was shaking his head and moving off to sit under a tree at the side of the field. Legolas watched him go, wondering if he should follow him and explain what this class was about. His participation was required, after all.

While Legolas was considering what to do, Langon turned his perpetual scowl on Tureden. "Where, precisely, do you think you are going?" he called to him. Tureden did not turn around or acknowledge that question. Legolas doubted his new guard even recognized anyone was speaking to him. Langon bent down, picked up a small stone and threw it at the back of Tureden's head, hitting him squarely.

That caused Tureden to spin around and face him with a half-astonished, half-furious expression, rubbing the back of his head.

"I said, where do you think you are going?" Langon asked again.

"To sit down," Tureden answered, gesturing to the tree. He appeared ready to say more but Langon did not let him.

"You are Legolas's permanent guard now," he said. "That is what the Troop Commander reported to us." He paused for a response, even though he had not really asked a question.

Tureden just barely restrained himself from making a face. "I am."

"Then you pair with Legolas. Get in line," Langon ordered in a tone that was clearly meant to be obeyed.

Tureden only glanced at the line of First Years. "I mastered pulse drills in the First Age, right along with you, if I recall," he said. "I will be sitting under the tree." He began to turn back around.

Langon took two swift steps toward him and thrust out the wooden practice sword in his hand to block Tureden's path. "You will be partnering with Legolas for every battle you fight, for the rest of your lives, until one of you is killed. You two will, therefore, partner on this training field to learn to work together. Get in line." He shoved the practice sword into Tureden's hand.

Legolas watched along with the rest of his class as Tureden drew a breath to argue. They were all wide eyed, in part due to shock that anyone would argue with the Dragon and in part due to amusement because someone was arguing with the Dragon.

Langon cut Tureden off before he finished his breath. "Tulus did it. You will do..."

"How many people will mistake me for Tulus this morning? Do I look like Tulus?" Tureden interrupted him in turn, turning the sword and thrusting its handle back at Langon. It poked him in the ribs.

"No, you look like a greater fool than Tulus ever dreamed of being," Langon replied and now his voice was low as he stepped past the sword to speak into Tureden's face. "Tulus never argued with me on my own training field. You are arguing. So that makes you a fool. You command the King's Guard, not the Training Program. I command this exercise--Legolas and his guard are participating in it. Do you understand me, New Foolish Tulus? Now get in line."

Laughter burst out of Legolas before he could stifle it in response to the name Langon had given Tureden. Tureden and Langon's heads both spun around. Legolas clamped his mouth shut and pasted a probably stupid, vacant look on his face. It was the best he could do. The pressure of suppressed laughter made his still sore ribs ache. He pressed his hands against his sides.

Surprisingly, that seemed to satisfy Langon. He turned back to Tureden.

Clenching his jaw so tightly that Legolas could actually hear his teeth grinding, Tureden silently took up the front position in the line with Legolas, shoving him to the back one.

Langon made a tisking sound as he shook his head. "No, no, New Foolish Tulus. Take the back position. Legolas is learning to be the stronger fighter, so he will take the lead."

Without a word, face souring even more, Tureden took two steps back. Legolas had to dodge around him.

Noruil stood next to Legolas. "Looks like New Tulus is going to be even more of a pain than Old Tulus was," he whispered as Langon began to explain the first scenario.

Legolas made a choking sound, trying not to laugh again, and he studiously ignored Tureden. At least Noruil had not repeated the 'fool' part of the name.

*~*~*

"That is all for the day," Langon called. "Put those swords in the racks. Lunch before your tracking class." He turned to speak to Gornir, who had not seemed to understand the crossover defense they had practiced against the flanking force in their drill.

Legolas moved towards the rack. He was disgusted with himself. His stomach had clenched the first time he looked down his sword at the Second year opposing him in that drill, so much that he actually still felt sick and shaky. And even at half-time, he had handled his weapon as clumsily as he did when he first began training with a sword almost a dozen year ago. How would he manage his swords class? Surely, by the time Nestoreth deemed him well enough healed to participate in weapons training, he would be in better control of himself.

Before Legolas made two full strides towards the rack, a hand closed over his shoulder and it was all he could do to stop himself from jumping. He did spin around, pulling his shoulder sharply out of the grasp of.... Tureden. Tureden was looking at him, eyebrows raised.

"We are going to spar a bit before breaking for lunch," he announced.

Legolas's brow furrowed and he found himself staring at his guard mutely while shaking his head. Several of the First and Second Years who heard Tureden stopped and turned. People often liked to watch him practice, whether he was sparring or shooting on the archery range. Long ago he had grown accustomed to having an audience. Today, the idea of fighting Tureden, with or without an audience, made him want to turn and run.

Galithil came to stand next to Legolas. "I do not think that would be wise," he began.

Tureden held him at bay by pressing the point of his practice sword into his shoulder. That action made Colloth's eyebrows climb, but he remained silent.

"I think I have the right to know something about the skills of the person I have agreed to guard," Tureden protested in response to Legolas's apparent refusal. "And a half time drill showed me nothing. Or at least I hope it did not."

Legolas could not deny that Tureden did have the right to see whatever skill he had, but Legolas simply could not do it. Not today. Nor could he explain why with half the First and Second Year class surrounding him. He knew he owed Tureden a truthful explanation, but for now he tried to think of some excuse he could make.

"Legolas is not going to fight you today," Anastor said, joining them.

Tureden looked down his nose at him. "And who are you to command that?"

Galithil and Anastor both drew a breath to argue, but they were forestalled when Langon strode between them, stopping in front of Legolas. "A moment, please," he said, pointing towards the weapons shack. "Before you break for lunch."

Legolas's eyes widened as he looked from Langon to the shack. Normally, the Dragon only sent someone to that shack when he really intended to let them have it. Neither Legolas nor any of his cousins had ever earned a trip there.

"Go," Langon ordered when Legolas did not move. His hand reached out for Legolas's shoulder, obviously intending to give him a shove towards the shack. Legolas braced himself for that. His ribs were well enough healed, but the tactics drills made it plain that they were still tender. Langon's hand fell short of its target at the last moment, turning instead to again point, this time more forcefully, at the shack.

Legolas turned towards it without speaking.

Tureden did not show the same restraint that Langon had. He grabbed Legolas's upper arm. "I am sparring with Legolas now. He will speak to you when we are done."

"As Anastor and Galithil said, I am not sparring with you," Legolas said quietly. "My lieutenant wants to speak to me." He looked down at where Tureden still held his arm firmly.

"Later," Tureden insisted, not releasing him. "Langon can wait."

"No, it is you who will wait," Langon answered. He took the practice sword from Legolas and handed it to Tureden, forcing him to let go of Legolas to take it, since his right hand was already occupied by his own practice sword. "Put those away," Langon ordered. Then he walked away without a backward glance, herding Legolas in front of him.

As he marched towards the shack, Legolas heard the rest of the swords in the rack rattle when Tureden thrust his sword and Legolas's into it far more forcefully than necessary.

When they reached the shack, Langon opened the door, waited for Legolas to precede him through it and closed it behind them. Once inside, Langon withdrew a folded paper from his tunic and handed it to Legolas. "Explain this, please," was all he said.

Legolas took the paper and turned it over. It was a note, sloppily folded, sealed with Dolgailon's seal and addressed to Langon. It was the message he had been reading when Legolas arrived on the field. Legolas looked at Langon for permission to open it, which Langon gave with a single nod and an exasperated expression. Legolas unfolded the paper and read:

Legolas is not to spar with bladed weapons until I inform you differently.

It was written, obviously hurriedly, in Dolgailon's hand. Legolas blinked at that message and read it again. Dolgailon must have written it after hearing in council about Demil. Legolas was at once stunned, a little insulted that Dolgailon had not even given him a choice in this decision, and grateful that he would not have to face Tureden, or anyone else apparently, until he could better master himself. He kept his gaze on the paper, trying to decide how to explain it.

Apparently, he remained silent for too long.

Langon kicked a chair that had been shoved into one corner of the shack so that it turned around. "Sit," he ordered.

Startled, Legolas complied automatically.

Langon leaned against one of the empty practice swords racks across from the chair. "Now talk to me," he said, looking closely at Legolas.

His tone was the softest Legolas had ever heard him use. That alone was enough to force Legolas to look up at him. Langon was studying his chest. Reflexively, Legolas reached to bring the edges of his tunic together, covering the top of the scar that peeked out from underneath it. He had loosened the fastenings on his tunic while sweating through the tactics drills.

"That is from a blade, obviously," Langon observed, nodding towards the now concealed scar. "How far does it go down?"

Legolas touched a place below his ribs.

Langon's eyebrows climbed. "Deep?" he asked.

"It cut muscle shallowly for a few inches," Legolas answered quietly. "It had to be stitched the whole length."

Langon drew his breath over his teeth in response to that. "You are too skilled to have allowed a man to land such a blow. It is normal to be nervous in your first fight with something more skilled than orcs though, so I will not fault you too badly. How did he fair in the end? Not well, I assume, since you are here and no men came back to the stronghold as prisoners of the king. Did you finish him or did Tulus?"

"He is dead," Legolas answered softly. "I killed him."

Langon nodded with a pleased expression. "It is harder to kill men than it is to kill orcs," he observed.

Legolas clenched his jaw.

"If he attacked you with a sword, he intended to kill you and you had the right to defend yourself. If he attacked the king's son, he is guilty of treason to this realm and you had the responsibility to kill him. The king would have done so on the spot if you had left him alive. You did the right thing, Legolas."

Legolas nodded, debating what to say, if anything.

"I think, however, that I understand why the Troop Commander wants you to be excused from sparring for a few days. You seem every bit as disturbed by this incident as Anastor. I understand from him that he killed a man as well. You both handled yourselves very well. A credit to the training, you proved yourselves to be. We are all impressed with you both. Take a few days off from sparring, but report for the footwork drills. They will help you work through whatever discomfort you may be feeling." Langon straightened, obviously intending to dismiss Legolas.

Legolas found himself speaking before Langon could do so. "Sir, you are from Menegroth, correct?" he asked.

Langon crossed his arms across his chest and stared down at Legolas. "I am," he replied. "I was your adar's swords master and he was a much better student than you, as I have told you many times, so you know that perfectly well."

Legolas did not even notice that familiar jab. "You fought there? Defended it? Even when it fell?"

That question made Langon's back stiffen. "Yes I did," he replied, the gentle tone he had been using replaced by one even sterner than Legolas normally heard from him.

Legolas looked down at the floor. "It was not a man that gave me this wound," he confessed quietly.

Langon stood silently for a long moment. Then he dropped down, crouching next to Legolas, forcing himself into his field of vision. "Elves? The rumor that elves were involved in this is true?" he whispered.

Legolas nodded.

"You killed one of them? More than one?"

"One," Legolas answered swiftly. Let us not make this worse than it is, he thought.

Langon's next action made Legolas glad he was seated. He pulled Legolas into a tight embrace. "I cannot believe elves in this forest would fall so deeply under the influence of the Shadow that they would attack other elves. Children. You are still a child, regardless of the responsibilities you bear. I thought we escaped this here."

"It followed you," Legolas replied. "The elves that attacked me were ones my adar and daeradar fought in Menegroth."

Langon grasped Legolas's shoulders and held him at arms length. "Noldor? Who?" he demanded. "Names."

"Ulcamarto was the name of the head of house. His son's name was Oromarto. But they are dead, by my adar and daeadar's hands, apparently. It is the daughter and servants that attacked me. She is called Manadhien--I believe her name in the First Age was Manarinde. Fuilin and Mauril are the servants. They seek revenge against the king. That was why I was abducted."

Langon released Legolas and stood. "Ulcamarto. Oromarto. That sounds so familiar. I have heard those names. Where have I heard those names?" He turned and paced the short distance the shack allowed. When he turned back around and his gaze fell once again on Legolas, he shook his head. "It does not matter." He frowned, considering Legolas long enough to make him drop his gaze uncomfortably. "Thranduil knows you did this, of course?" he asked, squatting on the floor again to make Legolas look at him.

Legolas stifled a nervous laugh. It always shocked him a little when the Sindar that knew his father long before he was a king referred to him by name. "Yes, adar knows," he replied.  

"It must be killing him. I am glad Oropher is not here to see it. It would certainly kill him. They brought us all here to escape such evil. That you were forced to experience it...." Langon sighed and shook his head. Then he grasped Legolas's chin to force him to look at him. "You did the right thing, Legolas. Do not doubt it for a moment. Any elf that would attack another elf is deeply shadowed."

"I feel shadowed myself, having done it," Legolas whispered.

"You are," Langon said. "You have done an evil thing, even if it was unavoidable. You cannot avoid the effects of that deed any more than you could avoid the deed itself. What you can control is your response to the shadow that is now threatening you. You can submit to it or you can drive it away. Do not submit to it, Legolas, not even in the smallest part. Drive it away."

"How?"

Langon's fingers tightened around his chin. "First, by choosing to do so. By being determined to do so. And then by finding people or things or activities that bring you joy. Focus on joyful things, not the shadow, and it will fade. That is why you will not return to sparring until you are completely ready. Until you can lift a sword without grief. Do you understand me? Do not force yourself. Be patient with yourself. And allow those that can to help you."

Legolas looked at Langon for a long moment. Those that can. "I feel sick...constantly sick," he confessed softly. "Every time I think of it...whenever anything reminds me...and almost everything does...all I can see is blood. Demil's blood. Please tell me that will eventually stop."

Langon embraced him again. "It will. Not soon enough to suit you, but it will. Sooner, if you heed my advice and find something to bring you joy." He released Legolas and sat back on his heels in front of him. "You have lost weight. You are not eating."

Those were not questions, but Legolas nodded anyway.

"Eat," Langon commanded. "You will feel better sooner if you force yourself to eat. Are you sleeping?"

"No," Legolas answered. "I see...it. In my dreams."

"Talk to Nestoreth and ask her for something to make you sleep then. Without dreams. You need rest to recover from this. I mean it, Legolas. I do not want to see you collapse on my training field."

Legolas nodded automatically. "Yes, sir." He paused, seeing the concern in Langon's eyes. Somehow, it did not embarrass him. It was understanding, not pity. "Thank you, sir," he added quietly.

Langon patted him on the shoulder and stood, gesturing for Legolas to do the same. As soon as Legolas did, Langon kicked the chair again, sending it scooting across the wooden floor to its corner. "Dismissed," he said, opening the door to the shack. "You are not ready to return to training. I do not want to see you back on this field today. Go spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying the forest. It is a beautiful day. Take advantage of the joy you can find in it."

Legolas blinked at that pronouncement and automatically began to protest it. But before he did, he stopped himself and smiled at Langon instead. "Thank you, sir," he repeated.

Langon nodded tersely and shooed him through the door.

*~*~*

Legolas trotted away from the training fields, ignoring Tureden's stunned expression at Langon's unexpected dismissal and his insistence that they should spar. He focused on trying to imagine what he might do. He could not remember the last time he had time completely free of responsibility. Pity that Langon did not release his cousins from training as well, so that Legolas had someone to spend it with. No matter. A soak in one of the springs would be a soothing way to pass the afternoon. He glanced in the direction of the river. It was a warm day and a good number of people were already gathered around the pools.

"Not in the mood for answering more questions," he said to himself, detouring upstream to where he and his cousins often crossed the river on rocks. On the stronghold's side of the river, there was a spring that his parents frequented. It was considerably more private since, strictly speaking, no one but warriors were allowed on the mountain that housed the stronghold. He and his cousins occasionally bathed in that spring with their friends. It would be the perfect place to relax.

"Where are you going?" Tureden's voice rang out in his ear when Legolas approached the river and made to jump onto the first stone to cross it.

"Legolas!" another voice, a feminine voice, called at the same time. "Wait for me!"

Legolas turned. Tureden did also. It was Aewen. She was running towards them, her skirt and hair flying out behind her. "Are you going to the spring beside the mountain?" she asked as she got closer.

"You certainly are not," Tureden answered, speaking in a low voice to Legolas.

Legolas glanced at him, frowning. "Yes," he called to Aewen.

"Only warriors are allowed on the mountain," Tureden reminded him.

"Adar and nana bathe in that spring all the time. So do my friends and I," Legolas answered back.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Aewen asked, coming up along side him. She grasped his hand with both of hers.

Legolas's brows rose involuntarily. "Of course you can come," he answered. Then he jumped onto the first rock and held her hand as she leapt onto it as well.

"Legolas!" Tureden said sternly.

Aewen turned to him and then looked back at Legolas questioningly.

"Aewen, do you know Tureden? He is my guard now," Legolas said, jumping to the next stone and helping her over to it.

Her eyes flew open. "Tulus was not...." she could not seem to make herself finish that question.

It took Legolas a moment to grasp what she meant to ask. When he did, he quickly shook his head. "No! Tulus was reassigned. That is all." Aewen loosed a quiet breath as Legolas helped her onto the third rock. They were now half way across the river. "Tureden, have you met Dollion's daughter Aewen before?" Legolas asked, in an effort to be polite and finish introducing them.

"I have not. The Captain of the Palace Guard's daughter ought to know better than to climb around on the mountain, however," he said. He had still not made any move to follow them across the river.

Aewen froze and looked at Legolas with wide eyes. "I thought we were allowed as long as we were with you or Galithil or Berior," she said.

Legolas tugged at her hand, pulling her to the next rock. "You are. We are," he assured her. When she looked down to measure the next jump--it was the longest--Legolas cast Tureden a scathing look.

Tureden put his hands on his hips and returned it.

Legolas jumped onto the far bank of the river. When Aewen reached his side, she still did not drop his hand. Legolas studied her a moment. This was the second day that she had practically clung to him, but he knew that one of the First Year warriors in the Palace Guard was currently courting her. He could not imagine what she meant by clinging to his hand.

Color rose on her cheeks. "Do you want to go to the spring?" she asked softly, gesturing towards it with her free hand.

He nodded.

"Legolas!" Tureden called. Now he sounded openly angry.

"Coming, Tureden?" Legolas asked, turning his back on him. As they walked away, he heard Tureden grumbling as he leapt from stone to stone.

Legolas and Aewen hurried to the spring. No one was there, as Legolas had expected.

"Will you help?" Aewen asked, turning her back to Legolas and moving her hair to one side to expose the ribbon that laced her gown.

Legolas nodded and slipped the bow. Then he tugged at the edges of the gown to loosen the lacing further. By the time Tureden emerged into the clearing around the spring, Legolas was tugging the ribbon free.

"What in all of Arda are you doing!" Tureden exclaimed, storming towards them the moment he saw the ribbon in Legolas's hand.

Aewen gasped and jumped, turning to face him with wide eyes, one arm holding up the neckline of her gown, the other still holding her hair aside.

Legolas turned a furious look on his guard. "I am helping Aewen with the lacing of her gown. We are going to bathe in the spring." He pointed to it.

"Unclothed?" Tureden asked.

Aewen turned scarlet in response to that question and Legolas felt heat rising on his cheeks as well. "Do you bathe or swim in the pools in your tunic and boots, Tureden? Have you ever seen any of the ellyth do so in their gowns?" Tureden said nothing to that. He only glowered at Legolas. Legolas turned back to Aewen. "Sorry," he whispered. "Do you want me to tie your hair up?" he asked, waving the ribbon he had pulled from her dress. Aewen nodded and turned her back to him again. She twisted her hair into a single pony tail that she then doubled over several times. As she held it in place, Legolas bound it up off her shoulders with the ribbon.

When he was finished, she looked over her shoulder at him. "Thank you," she said. Her voice was still very subdued and she glanced at Tureden as she spoke.

"Of course," Legolas replied.

"Make him go into the trees," Aewen whispered. Then she walked over to the bushes where the ellyth normally wrung out their shifts after swimming.

Legolas watched her disappear behind them with a sigh. She never bothered to hide back there just to slip out of her gown. He turned and walked over to stand toe to toe with Tureden. "Go into the trees, remain silent and leave us be," he said in a low voice.

Tureden's jaw fell open. "I beg your pardon..." he began.

Legolas was not having it. "I said, go into the trees, remain silent and leave us be. You are embarrassing Aewen and being intrusive. I will not tolerate you treating her in this manner. Unless you see some threat--which I trust you will not, given that we are standing on the mountain that houses the stronghold--I do not want to hear a sound from you."

Tureden loosed an astonished puff of air, but Legolas ignored it. He walked back to the spring, unfastening his tunic as he did. He pulled it and his undershirt off and draped them over one of the rocks near the spring. Then he leaned against the same rock to pull off his boots. After they joined his shirt and tunic, Legolas slipped into the warm water of the spring. It felt wonderful! He closed his eyes and sank in all the way up to his chin.

In the periphery of his senses, Legolas heard Aewen enter the spring and swim over to him. He did not open his eyes. The water simply felt too good. So Aewen sought his attention by splashing him full in the face. Legolas laughed, wiping water from his eyes. Once he could open them again, he drew his arm back, threatening to splash her back. She giggled and back peddled quickly. He would not do it. He knew she hated to get her hair wet in the spring. She said the spring water made it feel stiff. But he took several steps pursuing her, causing her to giggle even harder. She dove for his hand and he let her capture it, thinking that would end the game. Instead she placed her other hand on his chest and hooked a leg behind his. Then she pushed him over backwards, shoving him under the water. He resurfaced quickly, spluttering and laughing. "You are a menace, Aewen! Do you want to drown me!" he laughed, again wiping water out of his eyes. This time it streamed from his hair and he pushed it off his face. It took him a minute to realize Aewen was no longer laughing. Her gaze was fixed on his chest. Legolas sobered as she raised her eyes to his face.

"Legolas, what happened?" she asked in a whisper. She took a step towards him, reaching with one hand until it hovered over the scar on his chest.

"Anastor and I did not simply walk away from the people that captured us, Aewen," he answered her in as gentle a voice as he could. "We had to fight."

She let her hand fall onto the scar, tracing its length lightly with one finger. Her eyes held horror.

"It is nothing, Aewen. It looks much worse than it was," he assured her stoutly. Honestly, at the moment, with her hand on his chest, he could almost completely forget that wound and everything involved with it.

She floated a little closer to him to look at the scar. The skirt of her shift caressed his legs. "This was stitched, Legolas," she said, now running her finger along the slight indentations the stitches had made. "That was a lot of stitches. I have seen my adar getting wounds stitched. I know it hurts. This wound was obviously very painful. It was not 'nothing.'"

Legolas drew a deep breath. Once Aewen stopped speaking, she left her hand on his chest. She was standing inches from him. He would not even have to lean forward to.... He banished that thought. That First Year warrior was courting her he reminded himself firmly. He shrugged, taking a step back under the pretense of sitting on the ledge in the spring. "It was not pleasant," he admitted. "But it was not a serious wound at all. And it is completely healed now."

Much to his dismay, Aewen followed him to the ledge, standing in front of him. Standing so close to him still that he could feel the warmth of her body even in the warm water. "Legolas, it is serious and we both know it. Terrible. I cannot believe elves did this." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Everyone loves you." He felt her tense and she pulled away enough to look at him. "Loves you both, I mean. You and the king."

Legolas could not reply to that. She was so warm and soft in his arms. He could not take his eyes off her lips. They were so close. His heart began to race when he saw she was also looking at his lips. Surely she did not want... She had made it clear many years ago that she did not want...

From the trees above them, Tureden made a loud, disapproving noise.

Aewen loosed a little gasp and pulled away from Legolas, glancing upwards while sinking to her chin into the water. Legolas clenched his fists at his sides. He might murder Tureden. The moment that thought entered his mind, he flinched. Then he looked at Aewen. Her cheeks were flushed and he imagined his own were as well. She floated to the opposite side of the pool. No, he really might murder Tureden.

*~*~*

Legolas shrugged his shoulders as he walked towards the doors of the family quarters, trying to settle his quiver straps more comfortably across his ribs. Thanks to Tureden's contributions, his afternoon with Aewen had been uncomfortable and in the end, cut short when she decided to return home much earlier than Legolas thought she had truly wanted to. He resolutely put that out of his mind. At the moment, he was going to participate in the games at the Oak with his cousins. Galithil had argued, convincingly, that there, people would be much more interested in wagering on his speed shooting than talking about anything that had happened.

"Enjoy yourselves, my lords," Lanthir said as he held open the doors the family chambers for Legolas and Galithil.

They thanked him and Legolas grinned at the wink Lanthir aimed at him. The guard had won several coins the last time Legolas gamed at the Oak.

"So how long are you barred from training. And how long after that will you be restricted to footwork drills?" Galithil asked him as they walked. He sounded horrified.

Legolas laughed out loud. Under normal circumstances, he would have thought no training and then footwork drills were a terrible sentence as well. "Until Langon is convinced I should be allowed to spar, I think," he replied. "He did not intend it as a punishment though. He is trying to be helpful." He lowered his voice. "Demil. He knows."

Galithil shot a sidelong look at him. They still had not had a private moment to talk about that. Legolas knew Galithil wanted to quiz him about it. He also knew that his cousin would never do it unless invited to.

Tureden and Colloth arose from the bench outside the doors to the Hall, where they had been waiting for Legolas and Galithil. Colloth appeared annoyed.

Galithil studied his guard with a frown, while replying to Legolas's comment about Langon. "If you want to try to convince yourself that the Dragon is trying to be helpful, feel free to do so, but do not tell anyone else that, lest they tell Nestoreth that those men and elves did something to your head."

Legolas smirked at his cousin. "The Dragon hugged me, Galithil. Twice."

Galithil turned an incredulous expression on Legolas and was still groaning in disgust when Tureden and Colloth reached them.

Colloth immediately signaled for Galithil to follow him. Galithil did, and as they walked away, Colloth fixed Legolas with a serious expression. It almost appeared to be a warning.

Legolas looked at him with a raised eyebrow. His eyebrow climbed even higher when Tureden blocked his path to follow them.

"May I ask why you feel the need to be armed on the Green?" Tureden asked, nodding towards Legolas's bow and quiver.

Galithil looked back at Legolas, ready to stop and help his cousin explain. Colloth put one hand on Galithil's shoulder, pushing him towards the Gates, but Galithil resisted. Legolas shook his head and gestured for him to go on. Perhaps it was time for him to have a few words with his new guard, but this conversation would be best conducted in private.

"Let us go into the Hall to speak, Tureden," Legolas said, stepping towards the doors.

"The king is meeting with Hallion in the Hall. They asked not to be disturbed," Tureden answered, unmoving. "I repeat: why do you feel the need to go onto the Green armed?"

"I am not going to the Green armed," Legolas replied, keeping his voice even. "I am going to participate in some archery contests."

"Archery contests? At the Oak? There is no possibility that I am going with you to the Oak. Your adar does not approve of the activities there and I will not stand idly by while you disobey him. He would be furious with us both."

Legolas glanced behind Tureden at the Gate Guards and to his right at Lanthir. Then he took a step closer to his guard, speaking so low that only he could hear him. "Tureden, I think we should have a conversation about the way you are speaking to me."

Tureden's expression changed from stubbornness to scorn. He grasped Legolas's arm and spun him around. "By all means, we should have a conversation. We will go to my office and talk there. You need to understand what I expect of you."

Legolas tensed involuntarily in response to that rough handling. "Release me at once," he ordered, and he could not refrain from pulling from his guard's grasp when Tureden failed to do so. He took a step away from him and only with effort did not drop into a fighting stance seeing Tureden's antagonistic expression. "The only conversation we are having," he said, voice now cold, "centers around the fact that you will not issue orders to me. Or take this tone with me...."

"Tone?" Tureden exclaimed. "Legolas, you will not speak to me about my tone. You are a child. A child that I am responsible for and one that has astonished me at every turn today--late for training without the slightest remorse, refusing my repeated and perfectly reasonable requests to learn something about how you handle your weapons, ignoring the king's own laws by climbing around on the mountain, and behaving in nothing short of a scandalous manner with Aewen. Now you think you are going to participate in that debauchery at the Oak? Your adar would be horrified. As I said, you need a better understanding of what I expect of you, but if you are not willing to come speak to me in my office now, we can speak to the king in his office in the morning."

Legolas made an effort to unclench his fists. "Speaking with adar, and Conuion, in the morning is a very good idea, Tureden. Meanwhile, I am going to the Oak and there is no reason why I should not. Adar knows perfectly well that Galithil and I intended to game tonight..."

"That is a lie, Legolas," Tureden said. "Thranduil would cut the Oak down if..."

Legolas's jaw dropped. "You are actually accusing me of lying!"

"You cannot expect me to believe that Thranduil permits you to game at the Oak..."

"He certainly does..."

"I do not believe that..."

Legolas shook his head. "I am not listening to this," he declared and moved to step around Tureden.

Tureden blocked his path again. "You are also not going to the Oak and that is final."

"You are refusing to do your assigned duty? You will not accompany me this evening?"

Tureden calmly shook his head. "I will not escort you to the Oak, no."

"Then we will have a very interesting conversation with the king and your captain tomorrow. Be in the king's office for it at sunrise," Legolas ordered. Without waiting for Tureden's response, he turned and walked to the door to the family quarters, intending to leave a note for his father and Hallion to inform them of the meeting he had requested. Then he intended to go to the Oak.

Tureden followed him.

Lanthir, who had been staring resolutely straight forward, opened the door and stood aside for Legolas to pass through it.

"He does not come back through that door tonight. Understood?" Tureden ordered, speaking to Lanthir.

Legolas turned on his heel and stared at Tureden.

Lanthir looked doubtfully at his lieutenant before shifting his gaze to Legolas.

"You cannot be serious," Legolas said.

"I am retiring for the evening," Tureden responded, "in order to be in the king's office at sunrise. You are not permitted outside the stronghold without me, so there is no need for you to come back through that door. More to the point, since I do not trust you to stay put, I am assuring that you cannot go to the Oak after I turn my back."

Legolas glanced at Lanthir. He was now looking at his boots. The Gate Guards were staring at Tureden with open shock. Legolas stood silently, uncertain how to respond to such an outrageous statement. Tureden had no right to imprison him. None at all. Of that, Legolas was certain. But what right Legolas had to contradict Tureden's orders to his subordinates, he was much less certain of. And how he would enforce any command he issued, given that it would clearly have to be enforced, he had no idea. Best to let the king and Conuion, who unquestioningly had the authority to manage this, do so in the morning. But he would not leave Tureden wholly unanswered.

"I am appalled at the way you are speaking to me, Tureden," he said, keeping his voice carefully even and quiet. "And I will not tolerate the accusations you have made against my honesty. But I also will not address this in the presence of your subordinates. We will speak to the king and Conuion in the morning."

Without giving Tureden the opportunity to make this situation worse, Legolas turned his back on him and walked through the open door. Lanthir closed it behind him quietly.

A trapped feeling immediately descended on Legolas.

Ignoring it, he stalked straight down the corridor to his father's office, opened the door and went over to the desk. There, he uncapped the ink and picked up his father's quill.  He quickly scratched out a note for Hallion, telling him that he had asked Tureden to meet with the king before morning council. He would tell his father in person what this was about when he returned to the family quarters.

When he finished writing the note, he left his father's office and stood outside it, at a loss for anything to do. He had spent a good part of the last week imprisoned in the stronghold by his injuries and by the desire to hide from the interrogations that would ensue if he went out. There was absolutely no work for him to do. He had done it all. He had not had lessons for over a week, so he had no studying to do. He could paint, he supposed. He took a few steps towards his room, then he stopped in front of the doors to the sitting room. He was hardly in a creative mood.

He was furious.

No one had ever dared to call him a liar. Or to publicly declare their lack of trust in him. And he was two years old the last time any one had spoken to him in such a condescending manner. He did not want to paint. He did not even want to dance or sing on the Green at this point. He wanted to slaughter an archery target. And that was exactly what he should be doing.

He looked into the family sitting room at the wine flagon on the table. It was nearly empty, but there might be one full glass left. He stalked to the table. If there was not a full glass, he could not even to go to the lower halls to fetch more. Legolas snatched up the flagon and a goblet and poured, snorting in disbelief at Tureden's attitude. Then he drained the goblet.

He could not stay locked up. He would go insane.

Staring at the empty flagon, he considered simply walking out the doors of the family quarters. What would Lanthir do? He would not truly stop him. Tureden did not have the right to imprison him and Lanthir knew that. Legolas sighed. But Lanthir could not disobey his lieutenant's orders either. Legolas could not put Lanthir in a position where he was forced to choose between who to obey. He liked Lanthir. Pity adar thought him too inexperienced to be his guard. Besides, even if Lanthir was perfectly pleased to let Legolas out of the family quarters, if he tried to walk out of the stronghold without a guard, the Gate Guards would stop him. They would stop Dolgailon or the queen if they tried the same thing. Those were the king's own orders. Everyone in the family was to be escorted by a guard. And Legolas could not really ask another guard to take him where their First Lieutenant publicly refused to take him. Tureden had him completely trapped.

He slammed the goblet down on the table and stalked into the corridor, looking to his left. No light came from under the doors of either Engwe or Golwon's suites. He looked right. No light came from either his parent's suite, Dolgailon's suite or the king's office. No one was in the family quarters. They were all on the Green, undoubtedly.

His shoulders slumped and he walked back into the sitting room to collapse into a chair near the fireplace.

He could try climbing over the wall in the queen's garden and down the side of the mountain. He and Galithil had used that escape many times as children to sneak out of the stronghold at night. He sat forward, considering it. His ribs throbbed with a dull ache from the pressure of his poor posture. He would break his neck trying to make the leap to the trees to climb down, as sore as his ribs were. He flopped back into the chair.

His gaze fell on the large cupboard on the side wall of the room. And the tapestry behind it. And the secret door behind it.

He could go out that door.

Legolas stared at the cupboard. The door behind it led to the back side of the stronghold. He could go out it, cross the river and be hidden under the canopy of the Oak before anyone saw him.

The problem was, once there, Colloth would see him and he would know Legolas was not permitted outside without a guard. Indeed, given his expression as he escorted Galithil out, he knew what Tureden's orders were. They had obviously been discussing it.

And Colloth had not seemed to approve.

Still, he was one of Tureden's subordinates too.

Legolas stood. He did not care. He walked over to the cupboard, squeezed into the narrow space between it and the wall and laid his hand on the wall. The secret door cracked open. Legolas gave it a shove, opening it fully.

Colloth could try to drag him back into the stronghold if he wanted, and see how far he would get with that endeavor.

*~*~*

Adar/ada -- Father/dad
Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum
Daeradar -- Grandfather
ion nin -- my son