AN: This is a continuation of a series of stories titled Interrupted Journeys. Parts 1-10 have already been posted. It is probably not necessary to have read the previous parts, but you would understand the OCs and their motivations better if you did. This part of the story is set in Legolas's childhood, two weeks after Part 10. Legolas is near adulthood, at the age of 46. This will be a short story to have some fun with Legolas's first journey outside the Woodland Realm.

Chapter 1: Well met

If Legolas had not been so distracted by all the outrageous sights in the town square, the din of yelling voices and dissonant music pressing in around him might have been somewhat overwhelming. The smell of unwashed bodies certainly would have been. But he barely noticed either.

A man in a tight fitting, bright yellow tunic with green leggings jumped up, pitched himself forward, and flipped entirely over, landing neatly on his feet. Next him him, another man in a green tunic and yellow leggings did the same, only he flipped backward. Once the crowd around them began applauding, they repeated the trick, jumping over and over on their little wooden platform until Legolas found himself reaching with both hands for the solid shoulders of his horse to steady himself. He had no idea men could be so agile. The spectators clapped in rhythm with the performers' feet returning to the ground after each flip.

"Look over there!" Galithil exclaimed, riding next to him.

Legolas reluctantly tore his gaze away from the acrobats and turned in the direction his cousin was pointing. Looking over Berior's head, he saw a man touching a torch to the blades of four short swords. They burst into flame. Legolas's eyes widened when the fool picked them up and began to juggle them. The crowd around him stepped back hurriedly, giving him more room.

"Knives are one thing," Berior whispered after they had all watched the man for a moment. He was careful to keep his voice low enough that Lindomiel, riding in the front of their party, should not be able to hear him over the excited crowd. "Swords are entirely another."

"I would venture to say that anything on fire, what ever it might be, but certainly swords, is a little too much," Legolas replied.

"I might try the swords, if they were not on fire," Galithil replied, clapping with delight as the juggler caught three swords with his left hand and the fourth with his right

"If adar caught wind that you had so much as suggested that," Legolas began with a laugh, watching the juggler to see what he would do next with the flaming swords, "you would spend the next yen...." He cut himself off, gasping.

The single sword--the one in the juggler's right hand--he extinguished by.... No, that could not be.

Legolas stopped his horse and leaned towards the juggler. He could not possibly be seeing that. It had to be a trick.

"Surely he did not truly swallow it!" Berior choked out.

But the juggler was turning around in a circle so all could see every side of him. The sword was not hidden behind his back or shoulders. It could only be that he swallowed it.

"Are you going to try that with your sword, Galithil?" Berior asked, as the juggler pulled that sword from his mouth and extinguished a second in the same manner.

"I do not think so," Galithil replied quickly.

"Oh, a puppet show! I love those!" Lindomiel exclaimed, claiming their attention.

Legolas glanced towards his mother. It looked as if she might be about to slide off her horse. That would suit Legolas fine. He wanted to stay a while in this little square to watch the performers. But her guard, Galuauth, quickly brought his horse along side hers and spoke into her ear. She frowned while looking longingly at a box with a curtain across the top of it. Four men were climbing behind the box.

"What in all of Arda are four men going to do in that little box, nana?" Legolas asked. After everything else he had seen, he was almost afraid to find out what 'puppet show' meant. Even if the little box was mostly surrounded by children, anything might happen, it seemed.

"They tell stories and use puppets--they are sort of like dolls--to act out the stories. They are always very funny," she said, smiling as the curtain opened, revealing a childishly painted scene of trees. A puppet of a man on horseback began to ride across the little stage in front of the painted scene.

"We need to reach the palace before nightfall, my lady," Tureden said firmly.

Lindomiel nodded and gave her horse the slightest of nudges with her foot. The grey mare ambled forward, carefully picking its way through the noisy crowd, over the unfamiliar cobblestone streets. Under Tureden's gaze, Legolas urged his horse forward also, still watching the puppet show. The men around them stared at them with almost as much curiosity as they did the acrobats, jugglers and minstrels--but they gave the elves a much wider berth, splitting apart to allow them to pass.

Children's screams brought Legolas's gaze back to the puppet show.

"Is that...what did you call them, nana? Puppets? Is that puppet supposed to be a spider?"

From the top of the puppet theater, a black, bulbous puppet with eight pieces of yarn for legs dropped in front of the mannish puppet on horseback. The children watching the show squealed with fear as the puppets fought.

Galithil giggled. "It is not really a very smart thing to teach children that they could get that close to a spider and still have a hope of fighting it off," he said as the mannish puppet swung a wooden sword at the spider puppet.

Just as the elves were about to pass by the puppet theater, another puppet--one with long yellow yarn for hair and long, pointy ears--popped up and began to fight the spider. The children cheered.

Berior burst out laughing. "Dare we ask who that character is supposed to be?"

"Can you understand their language, Aunt Lindomiel?" Galithil asked. "What are the people with the puppets saying?"

"They are called puppeteers and yes, I do know enough of their language to understand that is, indeed, supposed to be our king." Her eyes were bright with mirth. "Never fear. I have seen this one before. The Elvenking defeats the spider, but the man does not fare particularly well either for traveling without leave through the forest. Perhaps we should move along as Tureden suggested."

Legolas and his cousins looked back over their shoulders, watching the puppet show for as long as they could before the twisting street took it out of view.

"Maybe, one day, when you are a great warrior, there will be a little yellow-yarn-haired puppet of you, Legolas," Berior whispered, barely able to finish his sentence through his laughter.

Legolas stifled a snort and cast his best imitation of his father's glare at his cousin.

That only made both Berior and Galithil laugh harder.

Legolas shook his head. "Was all that part of a festival, nana?" he asked as they traveled further away from the square along the main road in Dale.

"Those were likely the performers that Fengel invited for Dale's Fall Festival. The festival itself should have been over for several days by now. I never travel here during festivals..."

"Valar forbid," Galuauth said under his breath. Tureden nodded solemnly in agreement.

Legolas and Galithil smirked at them. The difficulties of keeping Lindomiel safe amongst the crowds in a festival were obvious.

"...but whenever I come soon after one, I always get a glimpse of at least some of the performers. They like to stay in town as long as they are still earning coin. Especially Dale and Esgaroth, where there is coin. I cannot imagine they earn much traveling to the smaller villages. And Gondor is weeks of dangerous travel away, so it cannot possibly do these performers much good. Even the mannish towns in between the forest and the Anduin are a long journey for them."

"Perhaps we should invite them to perform in the Woodland Realm," Galithil suggested. "I am certain Uncle Thranduil would love that little play."

Berior laughed.

"And as much as adar appreciates Mithrandir's fireworks, he ought to truly enjoy juggling and then swallowing flaming swords as well," Legolas added.

"A worthwhile suggestion," Tureden muttered to Galuauth. "The king might finally order the Oak cut down if those sorts of things started happening there." Then he turned to Legolas. "And if it was men juggling, and especially swallowing, flaming swords then, yes, the king might enjoy the sight of that."

Legolas only shook his head in response to that comment.

Lindomiel laughed out loud. "There is a reason why the king never travels outside of his realm," she said. "There is no need for him to know these sorts of activities even exist in the world."

"Lest we never leave the realm again," Legolas whispered, making all his cousins giggle. Lindomiel turned on her horse to wink at him.

They rode for several minutes in silence. Legolas and his cousins made little pretense of hiding that fact that they were studying any man or woman that ventured into view. And those that did, made no effort at all to hide the fact that they stared at the elves, especially Lindomiel. Legolas could not deny that made him a little uncomfortable. In truth, however, the men seemed harmless enough. Much like small creatures in the forest, they seemed far more frightened of the elves than was warranted.

Finally, the road ended at a short, wide staircase that led to a long, brick-paved courtyard with a stone fountain in its center. The courtyard was surrounded by buildings on three sides. To the left and right were identical structures, two stories tall. Their upper floors were lined with balconies that overlooked the courtyard. Both floors had many doors and large windows. Dwellings and offices, Legolas guessed. Most doors, both upper and lower, had flower boxes, chairs and little tables just outside them.

At the far side of the courtyard, stood a much taller, elaborately carved stone building. Pillars supported a domed roof and sheltered arched, gilded doors. Obviously, this was the Lord of Dale's palace. A path lined with stunted trees led from the stairs, where the elves had stopped, around the fountain and to the main doors of the palace.

"This is reasonably impressive," Galithil observed, sliding off his horse when grooms came hurrying towards them. "Quite pretty."

The guards spoke to the grooms while Lindomiel turned to Legolas and his cousins. "Westron from now on, unless you are certain you are alone," she reminded them quietly as the grooms led their horses away. She led them up the stairs and into the courtyard. It was late enough in the evening that it was devoid of people, save the mannish guards standing at the palace doors, so Legolas openly studied the unusual architecture.

"Imagine the effort--not to mention skill--it must have taken to haul, cut and fit the stones for these buildings," Galithil said with a tone of awe. "Did dwarves do it?"

Lindomiel shook her head. "No, men built it. The current palace is constructed of stone cut from the mountain. They started it about the same time we moved into the stronghold and it took them nearly the entire lifetime of Lord Viduladia, who ordered it built, to finish it." She dipped her hand in the fountain, allowing her fingers to trail through the water as they passed it.

One of the guards standing at the doors slipped inside the palace at their approach.

"His father's palace stood here as well, but it was constructed of wood, and destroyed by a fire. Like this one, it was beautiful, but it was even more intricately carved. The arches between the pillars looked like lace, they were so delicately formed. And it was painted red! I cannot imagine where they got that much red dye. It honestly was not from the southern forest. They could never have cut enough trees for it, not even out of the entire Bight. It must have come from Gondor."

They had reached the far side of the courtyard and they mounted the stairs to the doors.

"I was truly upset to see that palace destroyed. It was lovely and I miss it. Of course, not just the palace was lost. Much of the city was destroyed in that fire and there was a great loss of life that was particularly devastating because it came so soon after great losses in battles against men from the east. It was after that fire that Lord Viduladia commanded that all buildings in Dale must be made of stone, brick or at least wattle and daub, like the houses we saw at the edge of the city. So that they would be less susceptible to fire. I remember the first time I visited after this palace was built. I was very impressed. I lived in the mountain with the dwarves and our artisans while the stronghold was constructed. I understand how much work a structure like this represents. I thought they did a wonderful job. It is a dwelling truly fitting for their lords."

"Definitely," Legolas and his cousins agreed.

The guard remaining at the doors was staring at Lindomiel. "I beg your pardon," he said as he hauled open the doors and led them into the antechamber inside the palace. "I did not intend to eavesdrop. I could not help but hear."

Lindomiel nodded, smiling at him to assure him that she was not offended.

He looked down under her gaze. "But, did you say that you remember when this palace was built? You remember the old one? The one depicted in the tapestry in the current Hall?" He gestured with his thumb towards the gold plated doors they had stopped in front of.

Lindomiel's smile broadened. "I do remember that palace. Do you like the tapestry?"

"Indeed, my lady. It is a very rich decoration and everyone cherishes it as a reminder of the history of our city." He partially turned towards the doors, hand on a handle. "I will announce you in the Hall." He gaze flashed briefly over Legolas, Galithil and Berior.

Tureden stepped forward to supply their names and as he did, Lindomiel leaned towards them. "I made that tapestry for Viduladia as a gift," she whispered. "He lost his father in that fire. He was very young. Barely twenty. I pitied him and thought he needed something to connect him to his past."

"He was twenty?" Berior exclaimed in a loud whisper. "When he became king?" He glanced at Legolas.

Legolas knew his eyes were wide in response to that.

Lindomiel nodded. "In most mannish cultures, a child is of age at twenty," she reminded them.

Legolas did remember learning that. He just never really thought about it. Never really believed men might take on any real responsibilities at such an age. Much less the responsibilities of an entire realm.

Lindomiel faced them fully, stepping closer to speak quietly. And she spoke in Sindarin. "Fengel is...well, he must be eighty and that is an ancient age for his people. He will not be how you remember him," she warned. She seemed about to say more, but the doors of the Hall opened.

Lindomiel straightened and turned back towards the Hall as the guard announced them.

Legolas peered around her. Fengel's hall did not look so very different from Thranduil's, with a double row of carved pillars, polished stone floors and painted murals. But Fengel's throne, like the doors of the hall, was gilded in gold. The decorations were more angular than the organic ones in the stronghold and the paintings were mostly battle scenes or portraits.

Legolas looked towards the front of the hall. At the foot of the dais, was a table. Several men were rising from it. One looked a bit like Legolas remembered Fengel, but with white beginning to streak his hair. He was standing, straightening papers as he did.

"My lady it is an honor and a pleasure to again host you in my realm," called a voice that Legolas immediately recognized.

As his mother stepped forward, smiling, Legolas saw another man approaching them. His hair was purely white. He was thin, stooped and frail-looking. Legolas drew a long, quiet breath in an effort to stifle his reaction. Next to him, Galithil was doing the same.

This was certainly Fengel.

He looked older than Mithrandir! Legolas had to make an effort not to gape at him as he tried to reconcile his memory of Fengel, young and strong, carrying him and Galithil to safety on his horse, with the man before him now, who appeared to be having difficulty walking.

Lindomiel met him nearly half way down the aisle and Fengel bowed over her hand as she said how much she enjoyed visiting Dale and assured him that their journey had been uneventful.

"Come on," Berior whispered. "We should greet him too."

Legolas and Galithil followed him up the center aisle of the Hall, drawing Fengel's attention.

He turned to them with a warm smile, arms opened wide, looking them up and down. "These cannot be the little children I sang songs with all those years ago! Oh my you are all grown now!"

Legolas could not help but grin as all young people do when confronted with a doting elder.

Fengel reached them, placing one hand on Legolas's shoulder--it shook in a way that seemed beyond his control--and another on Galithil's. He leaned slightly against them for support. "I had so hoped to have the opportunity to see you again before I die." He looked over his shoulder at Lindomiel, for which Legolas was thankful. He was not certain how well he had controlled his reaction to Fengel's easy reference to his mortality. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you brought them with you," he said.

"Of course we have long looked forward to visiting you and your realm, my lord," Legolas replied.

Fengel's smile widened as he turned back to him. "You have certainly learned Westron," he said, reminding Legolas of his childhood fascination with that language when he first heard his parents and Fengel speak it. "Even with so much Sindarin around me--since my son, daughter-in-law and her brothers speak it--I still have not managed to learn much more of it than I knew before, I am ashamed to say." He gestured to the men and woman stepping around the table. "Please allow me to introduce my son, Forwed. And his wife, Nuneth. I understand that you already know Nuneth's brothers. Barad and Bardil are here now. Her other brothers may join us for breakfast. They had duties tonight."

Forwed was the man Legolas had initially thought might be Fengel. He definitely took after his father. In response to his father's introduction, he stepped forward and greeted Lindomiel first, bending over her hand, but only after studying her closely. Closely enough to make Legolas frown.

"Alatulya i Dalenna," Forwen said, his tone formal.

Lindomiel looked at him with a completely neutral expression. Since Legolas had been watching Forwed with his mother, he only saw Barad, Bardil and Nuneth in his peripheral vision. When her husband spoke, Nuneth immediately looked at the floor and bit her lip. Bardil reached to take her hand, while Barad blatantly rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

The room remained silent.

Lindomiel glanced at Legolas.

Legolas was honestly not certain what his mother expected. He had understood Forwed's Quenyan greeting, while she and his cousins likely only grasped the meaning of his words from the context of the situation. Legolas was certainly the only person amongst them that knew any appropriate response, but surely she did not want him to make one to that language.

Lindomiel nodded at him almost imperceptibly.

"Vandë omentaina," he finally said softly.

It was enough to raise several eyebrows, including his cousins' and Bardil's.

"I confess I am surprised--shocked, even--to hear a Sindarin elf of Thingol's line speak Quenya," Bardil said. He spoke Sindarin with the flat accent Legolas remembered his brother had.

"I think I may be the only person in my family to have learned it," Legolas replied in kind, making an effort to smile at Forwed, who was now the one who looked surprised. "But, as Lord Fengel said," he added in Westron so that Fengel could understand what was being said about him, "I have always enjoyed languages and my tutors would not pass on an opportunity when it presented itself. Naturally, Sindarin is the language of the court in the Woodland Realm. Most of our people speak it, though a few speak only Silvan. I imagine my cousins, mother and I are the only ones to speak that language here. You must have studied or lived in Gondor or even Rivendell to have learned Quenya," he concluded lightly, in an effort to put Forwed at ease.

"I brought tutors from Gondor for my son, daughter and grandchildren," Fengel answered for his son, looking at Forwed with undisguised pride. He clearly, and mercifully, had not realized anything might be amiss. "And my daughter is married in Gondor now."

"Where most people, and certainly all noblemen, but obviously not Forwed's tutors, know the difference between Sindarin and Noldorin elves," Barad said under his breath in Sindarin. Fengel did not give any indication he had heard him, but Forwed's back stiffened.

"My grandson, Beodor," Fengel continued without pause, "is simply too young to have stayed up so late to greet you, but you will certainly see him in the morning and I hope you will indulge him. He is very excited to meet elves. My granddaughter, Halig, is older, but she is a little shy. She is probably peeking around a curtain at us."

Lindomiel smiled at him. "We are looking forward to meeting them," she said.

Legolas and his cousins nodded in agreement. None of them had ever met anyone younger than themselves.

"Where is lord Celonhael?" Fengel asked. "Was he not able to travel with you?"

A guarded expression claimed all the elves.

"I fear that lord Celonhael was killed only a few weeks ago," Lindomiel replied quietly.

Fengel gasped, covering his mouth with his hand. His gaze darted to Berior. "Oh I... I cannot... I am so very sorry. Celonhael was a great elf. He will be dearly missed in this realm." He paused and continued in a very gentle voice. "You are assuming your father's duties then?" he asked Berior.

Berior nodded, clearly fearing to speak, lest his voice betray his grief.

"You must all be tired from your journey," Fengel hurried to say, steering them towards a side door in the Hall. "I will call someone to show you to your rooms. Would you like some refreshments? I could have the kitchen bring you anything you would like if you did not have time to stop for dinner during your travels."

"Something simple, perhaps bread and cheese, would be very welcome," Lindomiel replied.

Fengel gestured towards a servant, who ran off through another set of doors.

"I can call for the wool merchants to wait on you at your convenience, my lady," Fengel said as they walked away. "Would you like them to come tomorrow? In the morning? Or afternoon?"

"Tomorrow morning would be best," Lindomiel said. "I would like to spend some time looking over their samples. And I will want to visit the farms of the ones I like the most."

"I have warned them to bring their best patience along with their samples," Fengel said, smiling at her. "And they expect you will want to inspect the sheep."

She nodded her thanks.

"I hoped, while you are here, that we could discuss the purchase of some timber from your realm," Forwed interjected, pursuing them.

Fengel scowled at him as Lindomiel stopped and raised her eyebrows. "The king did not make me aware that you wanted to purchase timber."

"Forgive me, my lady," Fengel said. "Forwed only recently brought this need to my attention. I have not yet had time to raise the issue with lord Thranduil."

"I fear I am not prepared to discuss it," Lindomiel replied.

"It is very..." Forwed began, but Fengel cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I will prepare a letter on the subject to send to lord Thranduil. Perhaps you could carry that back to him?"

"I can certainly do that."

"Could you not, at least, look at our mill while you are here?" Forwed asked, before Fengel could silence him again. "We need oak to repair its wheel and if you saw it yourselves, you would better understand our request."

"Oak for the main axle?" Lindomiel guessed. "That is what you need? One tree?" She would feel free to handle such a minor request herself.

"That is our immediate need, my lady," Forwed replied. "But I would prefer to negotiate a steady supply of timber to maintain the wheel. It would be easiest to show you, so you understood the need."

"We have mills in the Woodland Realm, lord Forwed. I am familiar with their construction and management. Maintaining ours is one of my duties."

"Then you can surely understand the difficulties presented by only having access to pine, my lady," Forwed pressed, ignoring his father's glare. "We must replace almost the entire wheel every year."

That statement caught Lindomiel's attention. "The entire wheel every year?"

"And its gears," Forwed replied. "Pine is far too soft. We need oak. A store of trees seasoning so that when we must replace the shaft, we are ready. Surely you agree that cutting a few oaks to last us almost a hundred years is better than cutting over one hundred pines for that same period. Even pines do not grow so quickly that they reach the size needed for a main axle when we cut so many."

Lindomiel held Forwed's gaze, scowling. That argument was well made. Cutting fewer trees would appeal to any elf that had lived so long in the Woodland Realm.

To his credit, Forwed did not flinch away from her as she considered her reply.

"Legolas, will you, Galithil and Berior please go with lord Forwed to look at their mill?" she finally requested.

"Of course, my lady," Legolas replied automatically. Then he glanced behind himself at Tureden. He doubted his guard was overly pleased with that suggestion. Thankfully, Tureden managed to hide whatever reaction he wanted to make.

"I would very much prefer that they do that in the morning, when I am meeting with the wool merchants," she continued. "I want them to be free to come to the farms I choose to visit."

"I will certainly arrange my schedule so that we can go in the morning. Thank you, my lady," Forwed said with a bow.

"We thank you, indeed, for accommodating this request," Fengel agreed, sounding tired as he led Lindomiel out of the Hall.

*~*~*

Dolgailon could see hints of talain through the leaves in the distance, a sign that he had arrived at the outskirts of his village. He steeled himself to enter it. Even after almost a dozen years, even though the village had moved north of the mountains since he had last dwelt in it, he still had trouble accepting that his father and mother would not come out to greet him when he rode into the courtyard.

Focused on grim thoughts, he was caught at unawares when an elf leapt from a tree above the path he was following to land directly in front of his horse. The animal startled and reared slightly before Dolgailon brought it back under control. Galudiron raised an eyebrow at him, no doubt making certain that Dolgailon knew that he had noticed his charge's lack of attention. A potentially fatal lapse this far south, even when not nearing a village inhabited by known murderers.

"What is this?" the elf demanded, looking past Dolgailon and his guards to Golwon's assistant riding behind them. He led two horses--mannish horses that snorted and pranced uneasily at the slightest provocation.

"Lord Dolgailon, delivering horses sent by the king," Galudiron responded.

The elf, a village guard--Solchion--eyed the horses. "Horses sent by the king? So, that rumor is true. Why would the king be sending us horses now? Just when Moralfien negotiated to buy some?"

Galudiron silently looked at Dolgailon. They both, of course, were fully aware Moralfien had been planning to buy horses. That was what they were all here to forestall. But they were supposed to play ignorant of it.

Dolgailon urged his horse forward step, bringing him to stand so that he towered over the guard. When Dolgailon was not even yet an officer, Solchion had been dismissed from the ranks of the realm's warriors. Dolgailon never had much respect for him. He had even less now that Tulus had named him one of Manadhien's allies. And he was displeased to hear news of his travels had reached this village despite his best efforts to prevent that. So he would enjoy taking a bit of frustration out on this elf.

"I beg your pardon?" he replied. "Neither I nor the king have authorized Moralfien to buy horses." He looked over his shoulder at Golwon's aid. "Has Lord Golwon authorized her to trade with another village for horses?"

"Not to my knowledge, my lord prince," the aid answered.

Dolgailon had to clench his jaw to avoid laughing at the very formal manner in which he had just been addressed. It was clearly intended to rankle the guard and it had the desired effect. Solchion was openly making a face.

"I will have to speak to Moralfien, once I am settled in my talan," Dolgailon said. "Make way," he ordered the guard and without waiting for any further argument, he tapped his horse's flanks with his heels. The war stallion continued its way down the path, oblivious to the existence of the guard, who had to back away swiftly to avoid being trod upon.

Dolgailon did not so much a glance back at him, though, in his peripheral vision, he saw Solchion climb back into the trees and travel swiftly through them west of the path and then straight south. He was heading to warn Manadhien of their approach, no doubt. And of his slip of tongue. Galudiron openly tracked the guard's movements, and his hand tightened around his bow as he did. Dolgailon simply contemplated how lucky he had been to 'find out' about Manadhien's illegal trading so easily. Not another single village leader had mentioned that plan to him, if they knew about it, as he traveled south and west, distributing the ten mannish horses. That despite his best efforts to draw them out. So, he had wondered how he would lead her into confessing it, certain she would not let onto it herself. Now he could blame Solchion. Convenient.

As Dolgailon approached the village, the sound of excited voices cut through the normal sounds of chirping birds and insects. Peering through the trees, he saw a large group of elves gathered around the steps of the village hall. His brows drew together. Manadhien stood at the top of the stairs leading up to the hall. She appeared to be addressing the elves around her and her expression was very grave. Dolgailon urged his horse forward at a fast pace.

"Apparently, the king has executed Demil and Mauril, who once lived in this village, along with two other elves by the names of Lagril and Pelin," Manadhien was saying as Dolgailon rode into the village center. His arrival went entirely unnoticed. Manadhien's announcement commanded everyone's full attention. "He has also ordered the patrols and villages to arrest Fuilin, if he is seen, presumably with the intent to execute him as well."

After a brief moment of stunned silence, the elves around her burst into shouts.

"Executed!" a good many people shouted in obvious horror.

"What could their crime have possibly been?" others asked.

"Whatever it was, how could he do such a thing?" one elf that Dolgailon did not recognize yelled.

"Exiling the elves of this forest was not terrible enough," another called. "Now he is killing them." That elf was standing on the stairs of the hall with Manadhien.

Dolgailon listened to this commentary while watching the elves in the village that he considered his closest friends. Elves that once had served his parents when they led this village. Those elves were all gathered at the back of the crowd, a few here, a few there. In response to Manadhien's words and the resulting questions from the other villagers, they said nothing. In fact, they made no reaction what-so-ever. Dolgailon's eyebrows went up involuntarily.

"In truth," Moralfien interrupted the rising uproar, "it was not the king that killed Demil and Mauril. It was Legolas. Thranduil killed one of the other elves and someone else in his household killed the other."

That elicited a collective gasp from the crowd.

"There has to be an explanation," someone said.

"What possible explanation could there be for killing four elves?" the elf on the stairs said with a disdainful tone.

"It simply could not be true," an elleth said, hand over her mouth. "Legolas is only a child."

"It is true," Dolgailon called as Solchion mounted the stairs of the hall, just a little too late, to warn Manadhien of his arrival.

Every head in the courtyard turned to Dolgailon, though a steady murmuring continued amongst the crowd.

Some people--ones that had long lived in the village, though had never been particularly close to him or his parents--called out greetings to him. Others, including elves he knew not at all, began demanding an explanation of what they had just heard. Dolgailon's closest friends remained silent. Many slipped quietly into the trees and disappeared.

Dolgailon had to make an effort not to openly frown in response to that. He faced the crowd to address their questions. "Legolas did kill Demil," he stated bluntly. "He did so after Demil, Fuilin, Mauril, Lagril and Pelin abducted him and another child, Anastor Dannenion, during a training exercise on the eastern border. Demil and his associates killed two Sixth Years in the Training Program, held a knife to Anastor's throat to force Legolas to surrender himself, sent a note with a bloodied lock of Legolas's hair to the king, carried Legolas and Anastor two days east onto the plain and sold them to men as slaves. Then, when Dannenion arrived to try to rescue Legolas and his own son, Demil took his arm in a sword fight. So, yes, in order to escape and defend himself, Legolas killed Demil. The king judged that action justified."

That explanation silenced everyone.

"The king also judged Fuilin, Mauril, Lagril and Pelin guilty of treason, for their part in this abduction. He arrested Fuilin and Mauril, but they killed lord Celonhael and two other guards as they were escorting them back to the stronghold."

Another gasp arose and people began whispering heatedly.

Dolgailon did not pause. "I had already left the stronghold when Mauril, Lagril and Pelin were killed, so I do not know exactly what happened, but from the report I received, I gather that Lagril was killed while aiming an arrow at Legolas on the Green. Mauril and Pelin were killed when the king, Legolas and the Guard were trying to arrest them." He stopped speaking and allowed his gaze to sweep over the crowd. "So, I am not certain that what happened could rightly be called an execution. Whatever you call it, those elves tried to kill the king, the warriors in the Guard and Legolas, who is still a child. If they died in the process, they only have themselves to blame."

Most of the elves around him nodded in response to that. Only the few elves that Dolgailon did not know remained silent, staring at him steadily.

"Even so," one of them said. "Is it truly necessary to kill them? Could he not simply arrest and exile them?"

"As I said, I was not there," Dolgailon replied. "But from what I read in the report I received, he could not arrest them because they resisted with deadly force. Moreover, the first time Demil was arrested--that time for participating in the murder of the queen's parents--the king did exile him. His reward for that mercy was that Demil returned to this forest to abduct Legolas."

"They murdered the queen's parents, two warriors, Lord Celonhael and two guards!" an elleth nearby Dolgailon exclaimed. "And tried to sell two children as slaves to men! I cannot believe we all lived so closely with someone who would do such horrible things."

"Indeed, it is difficult to believe," Manadhien replied. Then she turned a forced smile on Dolgailon. "How fortunate that lord Dolgailon was here to explain what happened." She swept down the wooden stairs of the hall and strode directly towards him, the crowds parting for her as walked. "Mae govannen, my lord," she called and when she spoke everyone else fell quiet.

Dolgailon tensed involuntarily at her approach, almost as he would when charged by an orc. He restrained the impulse to reach for his sword with difficulty. Instead, he dismounted and stepped around his horse to return her greeting. Galudiron jumped off his horse and stood literally shoulder-to-shoulder with him. "Lady Moralfien," he said, but he found he could not force himself to offer her the polite bow he might give to any elleth or certainly any village leader. Instead, he barely managed to incline his head to her.

Her smile grew noticeably cooler as she came to stand before him. "I had heard you were in the south, delivering horses to the villages, but I had little more information than that. None of the warriors I have spoken to seem to have seen you," she said.

Dolgailon smiled coldly. This village was the last he had to visit, since it was the furthest south and west, but he had made every effort to keep his mission for the king as quiet as possible in the interest of not driving Manadhien away and of catching her off-guard. He had ordered any patrols he met to keep his travels strictly secret. Apparently, they, at least, were loyal to the king and not to Manadhien. It must have been someone in another village that mentioned his presence and the horses.

"You heard correctly. Our lord king sent me to deliver two horses to each of the villages in the southern realm," Dolgailon said, speaking clearly enough that everyone in the now silent crowd could hear. "Most villages, including this one, will receive a mare and a stallion and he will make sure that your winter stores, which Lord Golwon will deliver soon, include feed and bedding sufficient for their care. The king acquired these horses from the men Legolas fought on the eastern plain and he immediately thought of the needs of the southern villages. He expects they will help increase security and ease travel in this part of the realm."

The people around him cheered and shouted out praise for the king exactly as Dolgailon had expected. And from all but the smallest number of people, he judged it to be genuine. He carefully noted the faces of those who were less enthusiastic. They were the elves he did not know. The same elves that had most openly criticized the news of Demil and his associates' deaths.

Moralfien, on the other hand, appeared to be taking note of those who were the most pleased.

"This is excellent news indeed," she said once the crowd quieted again. "Of course you will return our thanks to the king."

"I will," Dolgailon replied.

"I will find someone to take charge of the horses while you and your party rest before the evening meal, my lord," Moralfien offered.

"I would greatly appreciate that," he said, but he signaled Golwon's assistant to remain with the horses and approve their accommodations just the same. He would not allow any misfortune to fall upon them. "Perhaps you will do me the honor of joining me for dinner, my lady?"

She froze in place, hesitating, but could hardly refuse an invitation issued in the presence of the entire populace, just as Dolgailon intended. She would now be forced to speak to him before she could disappear. "The honor will be mine, my lord," she replied.

"I will see you in the Hall, then," he said, now finding the forbearance to bow to her. He had the distinct impression that her answering curtsey might cause her to snap in half it was so stiff.

*~*~*

Alatulya (Q.) -- Welcome
Vandë omentaina (Q.) -- Well met
adar -- father
naneth -- mother
talan/telain -- flet/flets (elves' houses in the trees)
Mae govannen (S.) -- Well met/welcome

AN: Fengel and Legolas first met in Journeys Begin (part 3 of this series), when he helped rescue Legolas from men, sent by Manadhien/Moralfien to abduct him and his mother.

Barad and his brothers are men that helped Legolas and his cousins when they ventured too far away from the stronghold in Journeys in Mirkwood (part 5 of this series).

The elleth that Dolgailon is speaking to in the village has gone by many names in this story. Moralfien is how she is known to the people in this village and how she was originally known to Dolgailon. He now knows her to be Manadhien (a.k.a. Marti and Manarinde), an elleth who has made numerous attempts to overthrow or injure Thranduil. A little of her reasoning for hating Thranduil is explained in Finding the Sun (part 10 of this series). The events that she and Dolgailon are referring to (the deaths of those elves) are shown in that story and in Bitter Paths (part 9 of this series).

Also, in case any one is remotely interested, the performers that Legolas sees in Dale (minstrels, acrobats, jugglers, sword swallowers and puppeteers) are the same performers described by a traveler's account of a festival to celebrate the visit of a prince in Coimbra in 1330.