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Chapter Text

A cool wind whipped through the dark red leaves of the trees. Autumn was fast approaching the elven forest. Everything felt the changing of the seasons upon them, even the spiders who disappeared into their warm, dark hollows as the icy bite of the wind hinted at the winter to come.

Hidden in the depths of the dark forest where few interlopers dared tread, nested the elven haven of Mirkwood. The palace was stone and vast but many mullioned, emerald colored windows and vaulted ceilings gave the place some space. The stone walls hung with vibrant tapestries of ages long past. It was in one of these halls that a group of young elves sported about with each other.

Legolas grinned and raced playfully after his friends. The elves of Mirkwood were in rare high spirits this night for tonight began the festivities and feasts that would last a week or more. The autumnal equinox was upon them- a time when the stars burned brightest and the elves celebrated by setting ablaze the old leaves that fell from the trees in anticipation of the beautiful spring and revival to come.

Legolas was watching his friend, Rinniad, out of the corner of his eye and didn't see the elf in front of him until he had collided head-on into him.

"Do try to be careful, young prince!" An irritated voice snapped peevishly.

"Sorry, Telas!" Legolas laughed at his father's councilor. Telas was an old elf, much revered by the adults, and much made a mockery of by the younger ones. His stuffy manner and overweening demeanor had often been the brunt of no few jokes; and the councilor's person had often fallen afoul of the playful prank or trick that his young students loved to amuse themselves with at his expense.

Telas took the young elf by the shoulders.

"Now, young master, why are you still in here? You must be changed and ready before the festivities begin tonight," he admonished. Legolas groaned inwardly. Of course! The formal start of all the affairs! How could he have forgotten?

"All right, Telas. I'll go change." Waving goodbye to his friends, Legolas bolted upstairs. If he did not hurry he would soon be late and his father had already chastised him once today for being late to his lessons.

"A prince should be on time! Not gallivanting around with his friends," Legolas muttered, echoing his father's severe tone while he had lectured his son, as he hurriedly rebraided his disheveled hair.

Legolas glanced at himself in the mirror and though he had not had the time to scrub his face or really comb his hair, he thought he looked passable. Without another thought on it, he dashed down the stairs and out towards the vast clearing that had been prepared especially for tonight.

He was just in time. The feast was about to begin.

He rushed out towards the great clearing and took his seat beside his mother and father. Anariel, the beautiful Queen of Mirkwood, greeted her son lovingly, smoothing his pale hair from his face. She looked over at Thranduil chidingly as Legolas shifted restlessly in his seat again.

"Really, hir-nin (my lord). You cannot keep the boy here all night," she remarked to her husband. Thranduil leaned towards her.

"I can try."

The sweet, smoky scent of burning leaves filled the air and the ringing tones of elvish singing echoed in the woods. Legolas pulled at the uncomfortable collar strangling him. How he longed to slip into a comfortable tunic and boots and race off through the forest with his friends in search of hind and rabbits.

Alas, 'the duty of a prince is with his people,' his father had often- far too often- reminded the young elf. To the prince's mind, he had his entire immortal lifetime to think of his people! The only thing he wanted now was to be with his friends. But, he was stuck until his father released him.

Legolas glanced idly around the circle of merrymakers. Long wooden tables had been set up, groaning beneath the weight of the harvest. All kinds of fruits weighed down the tables, freshly baked loaves of bread sent the lingering scent of flour wafting into the air and the King's favorite Dorwinion wine had been brought up from Lake Town especially for the occasion. A magnificent roast boar crowned the head table where the king sat.

"Come Legolas!" Rinniad shouted to him, beckoning from across the fire. Legolas glanced up at his mother for permission and seeing the gentle smile on the queen's lips and small nod, the prince considered himself dismissed.

"You cannot sit beside your father for all of the narbeleth (sun-waning) festival, can you?" The prince laughed and sat cross-legged beside his friend.

Suddenly, a pounding of hooves halted the beautiful music and elvish singing as several of the woodland guards galloped into the clearing. They were careful, however, not to crush the revelers underfoot and rode right up to the dais where the king sat.

"There are riders approaching my lord!" Thranduil raised an eyebrow. He had not been expecting visitors so late.

"Who are they?"

"Elves, my lord. But strange… I have not seen them before…"

"If I may, my lord," Sarithan, the captain of the border guards, interrupted, stepping forward. His grey eyes flickered with an emotion that Legolas could not quite place and it troubled him. The captain turned towards the king, his face grave. Sarithan opened his mouth to speak but the sharp tones of elvish horns that rang out over the great forest, announcing the travelers, cut him short.

The Elvenking stood as a party of a score of elves or more stepped into the firelight. For the first time in many long centuries, Thranduil looked up in surprise at his estranged brother's face. He was actually Anariel's brother but Thranduil had come to think of the elf as his own family. Years ago they had lost all contact when Thranduil had been crowned king after his father had been slain during the Last Alliance. Ainan had changed little with the passing of the years as elves are wont to do.

The deep burnished gold of his hair caught the light of the torches as it fell down to the middle of his back, elegantly pulled back into a ponytail and braids of elven wayfarers. He was tall and slender though there was a certain harshness to his features that the wilderness and rigors of long travel had carved into his face. He carried himself with the elegance of royalty and the haughtiness of the elven race. But warmth was in his gaze as he beheld his brother-in-law.

Legolas stepped to his parents' side, looking up at the strangers. He barely remembered his uncle, who had left the palace not long after the young child had been born. For what reasons, Legolas did not know and he had not asked for he found that whenever he questioned his mother about her brother, Anariel seemed to become so sad. Legolas had thought for the longest while that his uncle was dead.

But, no. Here he stood, smiling and waving to those who recognized him and clasping his brother-in-law familiarly by the shoulder.

"Such a welcome, muindor-nin (my brother!)" Thranduil nodded.

"Ainan, mae govannen (well met)," the Elvenking greeted him, still looking faintly puzzled. Ainan smiled warmly.

"I have realized the error of my ways and wished to surprise you by arriving before the winter snows and in time for the autumnal festival! Time can pass by so quickly in the wild! Shall we let bygones by bygones, muindor?" he entreated, his silver-blue eyes bright. "Let us forgive each other and let no ill will pass between us again." Thranduil smiled gently and embraced his brother-in-law firmly.

"Indeed, muindor. Indeed. Let bygones be bygones."

So saying, the elf's silver-blue eyes flickered to the woman beside the King. He bowed low to the Queen.

"My dear sister, you become more beautiful every time I see you," he said familiarly.

"And you become more the snake charmer," the Queen replied coolly, allowing him to give her a brotherly peck on the cheek. The honey gold of his hair sparkled as he lifted a wine goblet from the long table and seated himself at the king's right side.

"Tell me," Thranduil asked pleasantly as his brother took a sip from his goblet. "Why the change of heart?" The words were spoken low and still in a friendly, level tone but Legolas, who was the only one close enough to hear the whispered conversation, detected a hint of warning behind his father's voice. But why?

Legolas cast a glance at his mother who sat rigid in her chair, staring straight ahead but seemingly not seeing the bonfire before her or the singing elves. She caught Legolas' worried look though and smiled gently. She kissed him on the forehead.

"Go on now, ion-nin (my son)," she said. Legolas paused, burning to ask the questions that buzzed around his head but the Queen nudged him. "Go on."

"Hannon le, naneth (Thank you, mother!)" he muttered back, smiling broadly as he raced off after Rinniad and the others. But inside his mind was turmoil: what was his uncle doing here?

Chapter Text

The autumnal sun of late afternoon filtered through the interlacing branches of the trees as a young elf stretched languidly upon the ground, enjoying a few moments' peace. He had been practicing archery with Kirar, his teacher and swordmaster, all day and his arms were pleasantly sore. Legolas didn't mind in the slightest, however. Even Kirar had said he was very skilled with the bow for many youngsters his age and practice had gone well.

He sat up, draping his arms lazily over his knees, enjoying the warm feel of the sun on his face. His sharp eyes caught a flash of silver and he glanced back along the path towards the palace. Trotting towards him, were his two friends with their bows slung over their shoulders and green quivers strapped to their backs. The sunlight gleamed off of the buckles that held their quivers in place.

Rinniad ran up and sprawled beside his friend beneath the shade of the oak tree.

"Kirar set you free at last?" he said laughingly. Lóthmir son of Tirien of the Guard sat down a little more serenely and respectfully greeted the prince who swatted impatiently at him.

"I saw him practicing on the fields today, Lóthmir. You have some competition," Rinniad remarked. Legolas flushed with embarrassment as the other elf scoffed. Rinniad grinned at him.

"If you still think that you are the greatest archer in Mirkwood, I would dearly love to see a competition."

"You would- only because you are a swordsman and certainly no archer," Lóthmir said with an impatient wave of his hand.

"I can string a bow faster than you," Rinniad protested, fingering the saber at his side protectively. Lóthmir snorted with laughter.

"Faster than a dwarf perhaps." Rinniad rose to his feet, all traces of his former amusement quite evaporated. Legolas groaned inwardly. His friends were constantly fighting with one another and challenging each other to try some ridiculous stunt that almost always ended up getting them in trouble or nearly killed. The last stunt had involved seeing who could climb up the highest on the cliffs near the waterfall and throwing themselves off into the deep pool below. It had ended when Rinniad had broken his arm and nearly drowned in the pounding foam.

They had arrived home to meet the King- who was beside himself with fury alongside the other boys' fathers and their tearful mothers. The punishment had been worse. After that little mishap, none of them were allowed to spend their hot summer days by the waterfall anymore. His friends always had a habit of getting themselves in trouble and Legolas, who often tried to mitigate their little quarrels to little avail, was usually dragged along into it.

"If you so doubt me, mellon" Rinniad voiced with acerbic irony. "Then let us have a contest. I challenge you to an archery match- just a little friendly game is all." His green eyes glinted in the afternoon sunlight as Lóthmir grinned amusedly up at him. The other elf rose to his feet as Legolas rolled his eyes despairingly, knowing without trying that it would be useless to dissuade them.

"I accept."

"Come, Legolas. You are to be the impartial judge- or if you dare you can attempt to beat me and easily defeat bold but blockheaded Rinniad," Lóthmir invited with a cheeky smile. Rinniad's ear tips flushed red but he stalked past his friend with his head held high. Legolas sighed and acquiesced with a nod.

However, the archery grounds were off limits during other practices so the young elves turned away and saddled their horses. Legolas leapt onto Lintedal, a light-colored and swift mare. Rinniad rode a speckled grey and Lóthmir favored his father's horse- a fine-boned, coal black stallion. Together, they rode out under the canopy of dark trees.

"Come! The day is already passing!" Legolas laughed and spurred his steed on ahead of them. Grinning at the challenge, the two others raced after him.

"No fair!"

"You got a head start!"

They rode hard and had soon put the palace far behind them. They pounded over the enchanted black river and the stone bridge that forded it. They rode until they came to a secluded clearing favored for a quiet afternoon.

They tethered their horses to nearby tree so that they would not accidentally wander into the line of fire. Legolas used a sharpened stick to secure the palm-sized leaf to the tree and stepped back.

Lóthmir stepped up first and loosed his first arrow. It struck the leaf half an inch to the center. He stepped back and grinned at Rinniad. The other elf smirked back and drew his own arrow to the string. His arrow struck Lóthmir's from the tree. But according to Legolas, it was still in the same spot so neither was closer than the other. So it went. Legolas leaned against a tree, listening idly to their arguing as none could come any closer to beating the other soundly. Several of their arrows had already snapped when they struck one another.

Legolas gazed out into the dark trees, his blue eyes narrowed against the gloom. That was when he heard it. It was a soft sound, scarcely audible over the hissing of the leaves in the trees. Legolas leapt forward agilely, an arrow already drawn to his bow and tight to his ear. Rinniad and Lóthmir looked over at his movement, their quarrel forgotten mid-sentence.

"What is it?" Lóthmir asked excitedly.

Legolas bounded silently forward, hearing the soft grinding noise again. He crept forward, crouching low in the brush. He could see her in the grass, her long neck bent low. The white hind glimmered as she chewed the grass languidly, her long, velvety ears perked for any sound of predators.

The wind changed and the doe lifted her head, sensing the presence of the hunting elves. With a flash of her white tail, she leapt away into the trees but only trotted a few feet away before settling to browse again.

"Shall we pursue?" Rinniad suggested eagerly, crouching beside his friend. "Our fathers would be pleased if we brought home the evening meal." Legolas felt a smile tug the corners of his lips. He had not yet been on his first hunt. Now, was as good a time as any. He was ready and already had the deer in his sights. But Lóthmir looked unsure.

"Perhaps we should turn back. It is still a way's ride back to the palace and the hind will be here another day." Legolas blew out an exasperated breath but he knew his friend was right.

Evening had already crept in upon them unawares. It was very dark beneath the trees and even his keen eyes had difficulty discerning the dark tree limbs from the shadow shapes that skittered across the ground. But Rinniad looked indignant.

"You are just sore that you lost and now you want us to miss out on a chance for such glory! The white hind would truly make a great prize." Lóthmir shook his head exasperatedly.

"We should leave now." Rinniad drew his own bead on the doe and eased himself carefully forward.

"Rinniad-" Lóthmir cautioned. Legolas stiffened, realizing too that something was amiss. He seized Rinniad's shoulder. His aim spoiled, the elf loosened his draw and turned to his friend.

"I say, Legolas, no sabotage now!" he chided but the prince wasn't listening.

"Do you hear that?"

"It's just the wind," his friend said impatiently, eager to catch the doe before she escaped. But Legolas shook his head.

"It was not the wind." Lóthmir walked closer, realizing that something was very wrong. His eyes darted nervously around the clearing to where the horses shifted restlessly. Without their noticing, the deer had disappeared into the brush, startled into sudden flight.

"I heard it too. The wind howls with wolf voices," he said quietly. The three fledgling warriors exchanged glances, suddenly realizing that they were far farther from home than they had ever intended to come. They were no more than seven miles from the borders where dark things crept into the elven-inhabited land.

A soft, menacing growl reached their ears and they all tensed. Immediately, they faced outwards with their backs to each other. They all drew arrows to their strings and waited.

Yellow eyes gleamed at them from out of the brush, winking out here and there only to reappear- nearer and more numerous. They formed a semi-circle around the entire clearing and edged in closer. Legolas let one arrow fly and it buried itself in the neck of a wolf chieftain. The others sprang forward and arrows whined through the air like angry hornets as the other two loosed them.

Wolves crumpled heavily to the earth as the remaining others broke off their attack, circling back out of range of the arrows as they disappeared behind the trees. For a long moment, a tense silence reigned. The elves still stood with their bows ready and their eyes unceasingly roving the trees for any signs of their attackers.

"Are they gone?" Rinniad asked, tentatively lowering his bow.

Suddenly, Lóthmir staggered backwards. Legolas whirled round and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he saw the crude arrow lodged in his friend's chest. He whirled round as vicious laughter and high-pitched screeching reached his ears. A scattering of orcs, attracted by the hungry wolves' howls and in anticipation of a fresh kill, leered at them from the trees. Legolas and Rinniad drew their respective blades as the orcs charged in too close to use their arrows.

Rinniad drew his saber and thrust it through the stomach of an attacking orc. He tore a knife from his boot and flung it into the throat of another coming in on his heels. He ducked under the lunging attack of another of the goblins and sliced it across the ribs as it overlunged past him. Rinniad glanced around and waded through the thick of the battle to where Lóthmir was beset by three. The arrow shaft in his chest had snapped as he valiantly tried to keep them at bay with the few remaining arrows left in his quiver.

Suddenly, Legolas appeared seemingly from nowhere and sliced into the first two before they realized what was happening. His white knives flashed in a whirling attack as he clove the orcs' necks in twain. Black blood spurted from the wounds as the goblins dropped heavily to the ground.

The other orcs, seeing that their easy kill would not be so easy to kill, bolted. The wolves too had turned away from the grim-faced elves and leapt upon the wounded and dead orcs strewn around the clearing.

Legolas and Rinniad waited tensely, sweat sliding down their foreheads and sides from exertion. After several long moments, the forest was silent and still once more. Slowly, the elves relaxed and turned to their wounded companion.

Legolas and Rinniad bent down and lifted their friend to his feet. His face was very pale almost ashen and the arrow had lodged itself near his first rib and had pierced the tough leather armor that any sensible warrior wore beneath his tunic during archery practice. The wound was not deep nor vitally buried as Legolas inspected it. The shaft had been too large to actually pierce his ribs and bled only a little. Still, it was painful and it would be better that they get it taken care of sooner rather than later. It was very dark now.

"We must get back," Legolas said urgently, slinging himself beneath his friend's arm to support him. Rinniad untied the horses that had not pulled themselves free. Their eyes were so wide with fear that he could see the whites and they were sweating and shaking uncontrollably. Lóthmir's black steed, Rhûn, was dead- riddled with the slashes the wolves' fangs had opened in its sides. Two orcs lay close by, their skulls bashed in by a horse's sharp hooves.

Grunting, they managed to heave their half-conscious friend up onto Lintedal and Legolas mounted behind him. They rode as quickly as they could back towards the palace but it was a good hour before the palace edged back into their view. Rinniad looked down at Lóthmir who was still thankfully conscious. The three friends exchanged glances and laughed uneasily.

"You know we'd be in so much trouble if our fathers found out where we were," Rinniad said, his ear tips flushed pink from their impromptu fight and flight.

"Prince Legolas!" a voice hailed.

"Oh no," Legolas whispered, dismayed as Telas stalked towards him, his face a mask of rage. "Where have you been? We've all been worried sick and searching for hours-"

"I know, Telas! I know. I'm sorry! We lost track of the time," Legolas said quickly, trying to head the irate elf off before he could move into a full-blown tirade. He knew he would probably be on the receiving end of one from his father anyway.

"Your father is furious, I might add," Telas said sourly, right on cue. Then he caught sight of the semi-conscious Lóthmir and his angered expression swiftly changed to one of alarm.

"By Elbereth! What happened?" Rinniad helped his friend down from the horse.

"We were caught by wolves," he explained shortly. "You go on to the King, Legolas. I'll see that he gets to the healers." Legolas nodded glumly and trudged towards his father's chambers, Lóthmir's proud protests that he could still walk following him up to the enchanted doors.

"What were you thinking? You could have been injured! You could have been killed! Do you realize how worried you have made your mother?" Legolas had been wondering when his father would bring up his mother's condition. Thranduil gazed down at his son sternly, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You cannot go gallivanting off into the forest alone without- "

"I was not alone," Legolas interrupted indignantly. "Rinniad and Lóthmir were with me!" Thranduil, instead of looking relieved, turned livid.

"And you endangered their lives as well with your foolishness! Lóthmir, I am told, was wounded!" Thranduil took a deep breath as though to calm himself as he saw the guilt and sorrow flash across his young son's face. He walked down the dais and gently took his son by the shoulders.

"Legolas, you are responsible for your actions." The prince nodded miserably.

"I know."

"I do not wish to lose you. You are far too important to me, your mother and your people," the King said sternly, his blue eyes flashing at the errant prince who stood scuffing the ground with the toe of a well-worn boot. "I want you to stay close to the palace now- no more than a mile as the river measures." Legolas' head shot up.

"Ada, that is not fair!"

"What you did today is not fair! You were nearly killed! Does that mean nothing to you?" Thranduil insisted. "I want you close so that someone will be nearby to protect you should anything go ill. And it usually does with you," he added severely. Legolas averted his eyes, his chest tightening with anger. His father was treating him like a child! He was old enough to care for himself! They had fought off the wolves, hadn't they? And no one had been killed! Thranduil sighed deeply, massaging his temples to try to quell the throbbing ache he felt gathering between them.

"Go on," he waved a hand towards the door. "I shall see you later at dinner."

Bowing stiffly, Legolas turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. He glared at the floor bad-temperedly as he walked slowly down the hall, only bothering to look up as the soft sound of elven boots reached his ears. Rinniad walked up to his friend, his face grieved.

"I am so sorry, Legolas. It was my fault Lóthmir was hurt. I goaded you into going on." Legolas smiled slightly and clasped his friend's shoulder.

"We were all at fault, mellon-nin- none more so than the others. Lóthmir will heal and then we'll see which of you is the better archer next time. Although-" the two friends began to walk down the corridor. "you know, of course, had I partaken in the challenge that I would have won." Rinniad laughed and cuffed his friend lightly across the head.

"Only in your wildest fantasies princeling!"

"Find anything interesting?" Legolas jumped, dropping the book he had been perusing.

"Oh, Vedhir! You startled me!" He gave a sigh of relief as his uncle bent down and retrieved his book. "I- I didn't see you there."

Ainan smiled as he handed back the book. He had appeared out of the shadows between the tall, dusty shelves as they stood within the vast library.

"How are your studies going, tôrion?" Legolas accepted his book with a nod of thanks.

"They are… going well," he said, not quite meeting his uncle's eyes. He had not had much time for his books as his warrior training progressed and his father had been avoiding him of late- busying himself with the preparations for his next hunt he supposed sourly. Or maybe he was still angry with him because of his "foolishness" earlier.

He looked up at Ainan for a moment. The elf and his companions had been staying in the palace for several weeks now and this was the first that the younger elf had seen of his estranged uncle. He surely did not think that Ainan would seek him out. But, again, here he had appeared, mysteriously or so it seemed.

Ainan smiled slightly as he perched on the edge of a window ledge. It overlooked the gardens; and the high boxwood hedges gleamed with spider silk and white flowers. The sweet scent drifted up to them through the open shutters and Legolas breathed it in peacefully, feeling his troubled thoughts ease a little.

"I heard what happened yesterday," Ainan remarked casually. Legolas frowned, his momentary happiness evaporating.

"My father insists on treating me…" he trailed off, biting back a sharp answer. His uncle smiled gently at his near outburst.

"Like a child?" he finished. "Yes. He doesn't believe you can do anything without your hand being held." Legolas nodded sullenly, leaning back against the stone wall beside his uncle.

"I just wish he'd…"

"Treat you like an adult." Legolas looked up at his uncle as if he'd read his thoughts.

"Yes." Ainan smiled and clapped his nephew on the shoulder.

"You may need a little more discipline, young prince. But I believe that you are old enough now to understand the consequences of your actions and to accept the punishment those actions may incur. However, I do believe your father is wrong to treat you so childishly when you have infinitely proven yourself to be a skilled and intelligent warrior." Legolas swelled with pride.

"I have seen your skill on the archery grounds," Ainan continued. "I would be delighted to aid you in furthering your talents." Legolas looked up in a mixture of shock and delight at his uncle.

"Truly?" Ainan smiled at the child's eagerness.

"Certainly. I do have other business to attend to but in my spare time- I would be happy to instruct you." Legolas nodded fervently. His uncle's offer surprised him but it would be a nice change from stuffy Kirar and he could become more acquainted with his estranged uncle.

"I'd like that," he said. Ainan smiled then his gaze flickered down the hall. "I believe someone is expecting you, tôrion." Legolas followed the other elf's gaze. Rinniad was waiting for him at the end of the hall, motioning towards him.

"I'll see you later, Vedhir," Legolas said. Ainan smiled and gestured for the prince to go on.

"Of course you will."

The elf's silver blue eyes, so akin to his sister's, nailed themselves to the prince's back, watching him until he passed around the corner and out of sight. Yes, Legolas would do nicely.

Legolas followed Rinniad into the healers' wing. There were rows of doors stretching down a vast hall leading to rooms of healing. Many stood empty these days as attacks on the guard had subsided with the decreasing of the orcs. A healer led them down the hall and stopped at a door on the right. She opened it with a smile and allowed them to go in.

Long windows spilled bright sunlight into the room and added a sense of cheer. The orange afternoon light slanted down onto a large, comfortable-looking bed and on it lay Lóthmir, looking alert and awake and very glad to see his friends.

"At last!" he exclaimed in greeting, struggling to sit up. White bandages wrapped around his chest but he grinned at his friends as they pulled up chairs beside him.

"How are you feeling, mellon-nin?" Legolas asked, relieved to see his friend was all right. Lóthmir was still rather pale but he looked better than he had yesterday. The younger elf shrugged, wincing only slightly as he pulled at his injury.

"Fine."

"You know just because you were hurt, does not mean that you won the archery contest. Next time, I will win," Rinniad said.

A universal groan from the others met his ears and the indignant look on his face made his friends laugh. Soon he joined in and the youthful merriment echoed through the healers' ward.

Chapter Text

Thranduil sighed wearily, rubbing his tired eyes as he poured over yet another pile of papers on his desk. Trouble from spiders in the northern provinces called for his attention and wolves on the southern borders constantly took lives and livestock. The evil in Dol Guldor was steadily growing and on top of that, he had a headache. He sighed again and set down his quill, glancing absently at his ink-stained hands. Perhaps, he would stop for the night. The work would still be there come the morrow…

Gentle hands on his shoulders made him lift his face to his wife, who smiled and kissed him on the cheek, enfolding him in her slender arms.

"How do you fare, my lord?" she asked. The King sighed and sat back in his chair, waving at the papers in front of him.

"I would be better had I not so much work to do." Anariel buried her face in her husband's neck, smiling slightly as her long golden tresses slid over her shoulder and swung into his face. Thranduil batted them aside good-naturedly as he gazed out the arched window that looked east. The dark trees swayed beneath the windowsill and the fair moon was very bright tonight and lent more light than the sputtering candles on the desk.

"It is well that your brother has returned to the palace at last." Anariel's smooth brow creased even as she nodded.

"Have you yet spoken to him?" Thranduil shook his head.

"Not at length. But it is enough that he is here. You are happy are you not, meleth-nin (my love)?" Anariel smiled for her husband's sake.

"Of course, hervenn-nin (my husband). How could I sorrow here? With my King, my son and, now, my brother beside me." Thranduil smiled and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist, kissing her on the cheek tenderly.

"I shall join you shortly, my love. I will finish and clean up." He suppressed a yawn as he scowled at his ink stained hands. Anariel smiled soothingly and floated out of the room.

The Queen of Mirkwood walked the quiet halls of the palace on her way to her chambers. Her brow furrowed in deep thought. It had been a long time since she had last seen her brother- a difference of opinion many years ago had separated them- she had thought irrevocably. And yet, here he was. Why? She wondered. Why now? Four hundred years was a long time to be away from one's family- even by elven standards. Questions chased themselves through her mind, endless and without answer. A growing doubt and unease gnawed at her mind. Her brother was not here without reason. She would have to find out what that reason was.

She looked up, knowing already what she would see. She had hoped to find him here and her sister's intuition had told her truly.

Ainan stood at the end of the hall, gazing out of a vast window onto the dark tree-clad grounds below. Bathed in moonlight, he looked so innocent- like the child she had known in her youth. But, he was no child and she knew it well. Knowing that the swishing of her robes announced her, she walked up to her brother and stood beside him. He did not turn but the corners of his lips twitched up in a faint smile.

"I wondered if you would seek me out this night, sister," he said quietly into the stillness. Anariel said nothing. She was not the Lady of Greenwood the Great with him. She was not Queen of the Silvan Elves- someone to be respected and obeyed. She was just his baby sister. Simply the sound of his voice- after so many years apart- sent shivers down her spine. Even now, he had power over her. As he had when she was young. But she quashed those fears. Here, she was Queen. In her home, he had no power.

"Why are you here?" she asked abruptly. Now, he turned to her and the white moonlight illuminated his pale face- throwing half of it into sinister shadow, bathing the other half in silver light.

"Why?" he echoed gently, almost mockingly. "Dear sister, am I not allowed to make amends to repair our broken family?" She looked up at him shrewdly.

"Make amends?" she rejoined. "Since when has the proud son of Araion ever deigned to apologize for anything?" Ainan smiled and chuckled quietly.

"All right. I deserve that."

"And more besides," Anariel said grimly. "You broke our family, Ainan."

"You sound like our mother," he said coldly. "Estelio nin. (Trust me)." He kissed her gently on the cheek and began to walk away.

"Ainan!" The elf turned a patient smile on his sister. "I will be watching you," she said firmly. The Queen cocked an eye sternly at her older brother. His grin only broadened.

"Of course, mell muinthel (dear sister)."

"Again! Keep your knees and elbows bent! Bent, I said!"

"Iston! (I know!)" Legolas ground between clenched teeth as he did as he was told.

The sun beat down on the playing field and the warriors gathered on it: fourteen in all- students most of them and their teacher who stood off to one side, watching the battling youths with a careful eye. It was easy to lose control in the heat of competition and the teacher was there to instruct as well as control and make sure that no one accidentally lost a finger to an over eager fledgling swordsman. They were using true steel for the first time and the metal rang in the still air as the two fought.

Since the disaster of the Last Alliance in which so many of their kin had been slaughtered for no reason, including their King, it had been decreed that every young elf would be trained from childhood to wield bow and blade with skill and dexterity in the face of battle.

There were few enough battle-trained warriors as it was that were not already out defending the borders. Many of the teachers here were young by elven standards- some nearly the age of their students. However, the teachers were as friends and mentors to the young elves that eagerly came to them to learn the ways of battle and the sword.

Sweat streamed down the brows of the two opponents, causing their pale hair to stick to the backs of their necks. The flurry of the exchange of blows rang a sharp staccato into the cool air. Legolas swept his sword in low, aiming for his opponent's knees, ready to check his attack if the other elf was not quick enough. But the young elf managed to leap over the blade and thrust forward with her own.

Legolas brought his sword up but the other's blade scraped against his side, screeching against the mail he wore. Of course, the young elves were well-equipped with leather armor and a coat of chain mail apiece in case any of the blades went awry. But that did not mean the blow did not hurt.

The young prince's blue eyes fixed on the woman's across from him. Nárvenien was older than Legolas by several centuries with a shocking length of fiery red hair uncommon to elves. There were rumors that her father was human. She denied them vehemently and her demeanor was as fiery as her hair.

She bared her teeth at Legolas and swung her sword in a slashing scythe towards his face. Leaping back swiftly, the golden-haired elf managed to block the blow and dance nimbly out of the way of the blade before it sliced his eye out.

"Careful Nárvenien! Target area is below the neck thank you," The young lieutenant who commanded them, Kirar, admonished lightly, his green eyes fixed upon the dueling pair.

Their breathing ragged, the two young elves wove back and forth in the afternoon heat. Legolas lunged forward and the red-haired struck it aside viciously. Nárvenien had never quite liked Legolas. She thought he was spoiled and privileged because he was the King's son. Legolas had once nearly jumped her when she had said that her father had insulted his father.

Nárvenien thrust at Legolas again and the prince saw his opening. He caught the cross guard of his blade under hers and wrenched upwards, sending her blade spinning from her grasp. It landed with a thump several feet away.

"All right, enough!" Kirar called out loudly as he retrieved the flung blade from the grass and handed it back to its student. Nárvenien looked furious as she sheathed her blade with a snap. The two pupils bowed to each other before stepping in beside their comrades.

"Nárvenien, excellent work! Watch your backswing- you want to hit your opponent, not your face… or your opponent's for that matter. Legolas, elbows bent. You don't want those muscles to seize up because you've kept them locked up during combat."

"Yes, sir," the two students chimed. Kirar nodded in satisfaction.

"We are finished for the day. Refresh yourselves, we're running tomorrow."

The young elves broke their lines and gathered up their things. Rinniad and Lóthmir joined Legolas as he removed his heavy chain mail and slipped into his silken blue undershirt and suede tunic.

"At this rate, Legolas, you'll outmatch Lóthmir yet," Rinniad laughed.

"Legolas!" Kirar beckoned the young prince back to him. His two friends bid him farewell and walked off towards the palace.

It was customary for the prince as royalty to train longer and harder than the other students in preparation for the rigors of war and hardships of ruling a kingdom. It was the same with his other studies- culture, language, history. Legolas found it tiresome but necessary. He shrugged out of his leather armor and laced up the hard leather vambraces on his forearms. Then he bent and lifted his bow from where it lay on the grass. He strung it quickly and slung his quiver over his shoulder. Kirar waited patiently for him. Well, mostly.

"Make haste young prince! We haven't all day! At this rate the sun will set before we reach the practice grounds." Legolas smiled slightly- his teacher was only a thousand or so years older than the prince himself but he sometimes he behaved like some of the oldest elves in Mirkwood.

"Come now, Kirar!" he chided playfully. "You fuss more than my mother!" The young lieutenant smiled slightly but the smirk left his face quickly and his eyes narrowed as he lifted a slender hand to shield his keen eyes from the sun as he saw a figure striding purposefully towards them. Then Legolas remembered.

"Oh, I'd forgotten. Vedhir-nin, (my uncle), is going to teach me today, Kirar, if you don't mind?" Legolas said slowly as Ainan approached them. The lieutenant of the guard looked faintly puzzled but acquiesced with a nod.

"Be iest lin, ernil-nin, (As you wish, my prince)," he answered smoothly with a bow to both Legolas and Ainan. He turned and departed but his brow was furrowed. A slight frown marred Legolas' own smooth brow as he watched his teacher walk back towards the palace. He hoped Kirar wasn't terribly disappointed. He only wanted to practice with his uncle because Ainan had offered. He would go to his teacher afterwards and apologize.

"Shall we?" Ainan's voice broke through his thoughts and Legolas nodded, his excitement mounting again.

"Let's keep these little outings just between us, all right?" Ainan smiled confidentially as they walked across the green lawn of the archery field, grey in the dusk. Legolas nodded but frowned a little, perplexed.

"Why?" Ainan flicked a bit of imaginary dust off his tunic.

"I was a bit of a wastrel in my intemperate youth as your mother may or may not have told you," he said lightly. "I do not know if she or your father would approve of my teaching you."

"Oh." Ainan waved a hand carelessly.

"But that matters not." He stopped suddenly, an eyebrow raised questioningly. Legolas did so as well, nearly tripping at the abrupt halt. "You wouldn't want me to stop simply because they said no, would you? You don't want them to order you around like a child, do you?" Legolas shook his head firmly, feeling rebellious as he remembered his lecture of yesterday.

"No."

"Are you entirely certain?" Legolas nodded firmly.

"Yes, Vedhir. I would like you to teach me." Ainan clapped his hands together.

"Excellent!"

The walk to the archer range from the dueling ground was a short one. It was a broad expanse of lawn surmounted by trees. The targets were shaped like straw figures- a mimic of the hideous bodies of orcs, Legolas supposed. He and his friends had had endless fun shooting at them and pretending they were out on patrol with the other warriors bravely defending their home. From here, the straw targets looked small indeed.

Ainan stood quietly by as Legolas strung his first arrow. His eyes narrowed as he sighed down the wooden shaft. He released it and the string twanged satisfactorily as the arrow thumped solidly into the target.

"Wonderful!" Ainan exclaimed. Beaming with pride at the praise, Legolas drew another arrow to the string. He pulled the string back so that it rested against his chin beneath his eye for an instant before releasing it. This one fell a little short a few inches from the target.

Legolas jumped back, shocked and hurt as Ainan's open hand met his cheek with an audible crack. Gingerly, the young elf touched his face in bewilderment, tears of pain welling in his eyes. His uncle had never hit him before. Ainan's cool, impassive look never wavered.

"You missed," he said calmly. "Try again." Fumbling for an arrow, the prince shakily drew one to the string, aimed at the target and fired. He was so flustered by the sudden stinging in his cheek that he missed the center by a good several feet. Another blow sent him staggering.

Ainan cuffed the younger elf under the chin, hard enough to hurt but not enough to break his jaw. A little pain was what this little pampered prince needed. Tears of humiliation began to roll down the young elf's cheeks and his pained gaze looked up into his uncle's blazing eyes, confused and lost, silently pleading for him to stop- asking him why? And Ainan seized his nephew by the shoulders and shook him until his teeth rattled. Legolas could not help a half-choked cry that forced itself out of his throat.

"No dhínen (Be silent)" his uncle hissed. He clutched the young prince's chin in a suddenly clawlike hand, his feral eyes burning in his pinched face. "Sobbing is for the weak! You are not weak! You are a prince! You must make your father proud," he hissed, smiling down at the terrified child. "You cannot afford to miss shots like that in battle where one mistake can mean the difference between life and death."

Legolas nodded numbly, his eyes like saucers. He picked up his bow with trembling hands.

"Try again."

By the end of the next hour, Legolas' face was red and burning. His ears rang and he was close to tears but he dared not let them fall. He had missed the mark twenty-seven times because he had been so shaken. It was not until two hours later when he had hit the center of the target thirty times in a row, that Ainan finally pronounced himself satisfied.

"Why, Vedhir?" Legolas asked as they walked back towards the palace. It was so dark now that he could scarcely see his uncle's face and the fair moon did not dance in the dark sky this night. Ainan sighed as if the child's question were completely preposterous.

"Legolas, you must understand. By missing those shots, you may one day, in battle, cost your or someone else's life. You cannot miss shots like that. Pain is an excellent way to learn that lesson. It is our teacher- it helps us to grow and learn from our mistakes. When you first took up your bow," he continued smoothly. "You were sore were you not? Your arms ached? Your fingers?" Legolas nodded slowly, beginning to see the connection. That made sense.

"Do not shrink from pain," Ainan ended finally, laying a comforting hand on the prince's shoulder. He inspected the prince's rather ruddy face. "You will heal. You wish me to continue instructing you, do you not?" Legolas nodded again, rubbing his tender cheek and carefully trying to keep the flood of tears from erupting. Ainan smiled slightly and patted his shoulder gently. Legolas flinched but did not dare pull away.

"You are excused for the night, tôrion. I shall see you soon, I expect." Another nod and then Legolas was off, racing away as fast and as far as he could. He knew something about that entire encounter had been very wrong and the tears he had held back for so long flowed down his cheeks and stung his eyes until he could scarcely see where he was going. The chill autumn wind froze the teardrops to his cheeks as he ran. As he reached the palace, he slowed and caught his breath, wiping at his eyes, determined to show no weakness before any he might encounter. Almost immediately, a voice hailed him as he passed through the gate.

"Legolas, are you all right?" Lóthmir asked, frowning slightly at his friend's rather disheveled appearance. "We were getting worried. You are long overdue from your lesson. Your father was wondering where you had run off to. Where did you go?" He fell into step beside the prince as Legolas walked to his room to change out of his leathers. Not wanting to seem a child before his friend, Legolas shrugged offhandedly.

"I was practicing archery with my uncle. We lost track of the time." Which was true, he thought, his insides squirming uncomfortably. It still sounded like lying to him. His friend nodded, satisfied.

"Well, come on! Join us in the Great Hall! Dinner is long cold but the maids will fix something up for you, I'm sure." Legolas nodded as his friend waved to him and left his side. The prince turned down a smaller corridor, his face still burned but it was nearly overwhelmed by the throbbing in his arms and fingers.

Feeling exhausted in every bone of his body, Legolas wanted nothing more than a hot bath and his soft bed but Lóthmir would miss him- questions would be asked- and as much as he was confused by Ainan's actions this night, he felt that there was nothing to worry about. His uncle was right- pain was inherent when training for battle. He was being childish and would work harder from now on.

Legolas sighed as he washed his face clean of tears in the basin in his room. He looked up into the glass before him. His cheeks were still warm and red as he scowled at his reflection and willed himself not to be a child about this any longer. Straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin, the prince turned and walked determinedly out of his room.

Chapter Text

Three years later

The delegates from Lothlórien would be arriving any day now. The young elf waited patiently watching for them in the midwinter cold as he had for the past two ten days. The brittle branches of the trees creaked in the icy wind but the elf did not heed it, his blue eyes fixed upon the path ahead. He always looked forward to seeing his distant kin for though they seldom visited, they often brought exciting tales of merry adventures in the southern lands to the drear northern forest. Legolas smiled faintly at the thought. Even in winter, his home held an austere beauty of its own.

The black trees crisscrossed in the orange-stained clouds overhead as the last coppery rays of an evening's sunset filtered through their rickety branches. Legolas still did not move even as twilight fell and dusky blue descended upon the forest. His warm breath drifted like smoke and was lost to the night as he gazed up at the stars, his only solace now.

The elf prince's thoughts took a dark turn even as the land turned featureless and dim around him. The situation with his uncle had only worsened as the weeks then months and years wore on. Legolas shivered from more than cold as dark memories pressed upon his mind, which he had long tried to block out. As Ainan grew more accustomed to living in the palace and more bold, he had slowly but surely insinuated himself into every aspect of the prince's life. Eventually, Legolas could not go anywhere without his uncle's permission and if he slackened off in his studies, he was beaten. If he talked back, he was beaten. If he did nothing, he was beaten.

Legolas sighed, realizing that the delegation would not be coming today and he hurried back to his room, fearing to be late. Ainan had set a curfew on him that if he had not returned to his rooms by nightfall, he would be flayed. And his uncle never failed to make sure his nephew was in his room every night. Legolas hurried back to his rooms, passing only servants in the halls.

As a prince, he was granted a suite of rooms in the palace for he and his uncle often studied in the room that held the fireplace, a desk and the large armchair as well as a bookshelf which housed Legolas' lesson books and others he had borrowed or taken from the library. His handmade yew bow and green-fletched arrows leaned against a corner near the window. The adjoining room was the prince's bedroom.

Legolas had not slept in it in years.

With a disappointed sigh, Legolas looked around his room, noticing that the fire had burned low. Suppressing another shudder, the prince fed the fire back into life, appreciating the heat that washed over his chilled body. Legolas soaked in all the warmth he could for he knew the cold would return soon.

Sometimes days or weeks would pass before Ainan would come for him again. But always he would return- angrier than before and beat the young prince until he was sure the errant child had been suitably punished. Many times Thranduil had asked him what the matter was when his wayward son was late to his lessons or a meeting he was to attend- his mother was worried but she knew not why. His friends questioned him, when they saw him, which was seldom now for the prince had no time between his lessons, Ainan's punishments and the chores his father made him do when he was late to his classes. But Ainan had constantly warned him that if he told anyone, he would show the disobedient prince what real pain was. Legolas believed him though he could not see how his situation could darken further.

He could do nothing against his uncle. His father would never believe him and his mother… she seemed so troubled already with his uncle in the palace. He did not wish to burden her with his pains. Kirar might help but since Ainan had give him his first lesson, the lieutenant of the royal guard had been strangely absent.

Legolas shook his head, trying to banish those terrible thoughts. Fear was his worst enemy now and it gave Ainan power over him. He could feel his heart beginning to beat faster and he willed himself to breathe slowly though he did not close his eyes, afraid of the monsters that would erupt behind his eyelids. Finally, he calmed down and looked out at the dark forest again though now the austere beauty was gone- replaced by a cold and empty ugliness. Time had gotten away from him and it was later than he realized. Cold fear squeezed his insides as the moon slowly rose over the treetops and the fire burned to embers in his room.

"Dreaming, young prince?"

Legolas whirled round, his mouth dry even as he broke out into an icy sweat.

Ainan stood in the doorway; his silver-blue eyes fastened on the form huddled against the window. His heart banging against his ribs, Legolas willed himself to stay still and resist the urge to flee from the room. He knew he couldn't run.

As he had nearly every night for the past three years, Ainan locked the door behind him. He turned back to the prince, a faint smile still twisting his lips.

"Shall we review?" Legolas nodded dumbly as he reached for the books on the table next to his water pitcher. Ainan seated himself, as he always did, in the armchair beside the fire.

Ainan flipped open the book of Southern culture and began to quiz Legolas on the various cultures of the people of Harad, Rohan and Gondor. It did not interest the prince much because he had had no dealings with humans and considered them uncouth. But he had studied for hours to appease his uncle- for any lapse led invariably to punishment.

He had studied- he had! But, eventually, he faltered and missed the answer. Ainan's hand snapped out and struck the prince across the face. Legolas flinched away from the contact, his cheek striking the back of the chair he sat in.

As a token of goodwill, Thranduil had appointed his brother-in-law Regent of the realm two years ago. Ainan wore the ring on his forefinger- a golden band of entwining branches with emerald leaves. Legolas wiped blood from his lip that the ornate leaves had cut into his flesh.

"Try again," Ainan encouraged as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Now, Legolas was sure it hadn't. He had become accustomed to his uncle's harsh treatment and he settled himself in his seat again without whimpering. His cheek stung but Ainan was careful never to leave bruises where they were clearly visible.

After he had missed the third question, Ainan lost his patience which seemed to fraying dangerously thin as the days went by.

"You are being insubordinate again, Legolas." The prince looked up, fear clutching at his heart. What had he done now? Quickly, he ran through his mind the thoughts of anything he could have done to put his uncle in a bad temper and could think of nothing.

"You have not studied as you should." The fact that Legolas had nearly worn himself to exhaustion staying up into the cold hours of the night, straining his eyes by candlelight as he struggled to meet his uncle's impossible demands counted little here. Never mind that Sarithan had taken him out on his first patrols of the borders in the early mornings or that the prince's father still requested his presence at various council meetings in the afternoons which were more exhausting still after his lessons.

He suppressed a shudder as Ainan's hand gripped him cruelly tight by the shoulder and dragged him towards his bedroom. The room had not seen daylight in three years and the furniture was beginning to collect dust and smell of decay. Ainan kept it locked at all times lest a venturous maid walk in and see the blood or teeth marks.

Once inside, Ainan locked this door too. How he had gotten the keys, Legolas never knew and he dared not ask- dared not cry as his uncle pushed him onto the bed and removed the rod from the corner where he always kept it.

Legolas took off his tunic and lay obediently facedown on the bed, keeping his arms carefully at his sides. The sheets were stained with old blood but Legolas lay down unflinchingly as he had so many other times. He knew better now- knew that if he cried out or screamed or whimpered his punishment would be worse. Still, silent tears rolled down his cheeks and stained his dirty pillow as the lashes plied themselves on his shoulders. He bit into the sheets to keep himself from crying out as the pain mounted.

Ainan was a master of inflicting pain. He knew exactly where to touch with the rod to exact the most pain in the same place for the longest time, laying new welts onto old ones that were still not fully healed. And he did not even draw blood until the twenty or twenty-fifth lash. Legolas shut his eyes. It was easier if he did not have to see his uncle's handsome face twisted with such hatred though the prince knew not how he had deserved.

Blow after blow rang in Legolas' ears until they simply blended together- one long litany of pain. His cheeks grew hot with pain and embarrassment and the entire time, he willed himself not to cry, burying his face in the pillow and clenching it in his teeth to keep from sobbing. Crying was for the weak, his uncle had constantly stressed. And brought only more pain. The purpose is to make you stronger! You are not weak! You must not cry!

Ainan reined in his anger with difficulty. He could not kill the child. That would raise uncomfortable questions. But, rage still boiled inside him like a splinter in his mind. Every time he so much as looked at the brat he was reminded of everything that had been taken from him: Mirkwood, the kingship… Anariel…

Legolas looked up at him with innocent blue eyes wet with tears but the enraged elf saw only the familiar blue eyes of another- the one who had stolen it all from him! The one who would pay most dearly for the insults he had suffered over the centuries.

Forcing a pained smile on his face, the elf's fingers wiped away the unshed tears with surprising care. Legolas flinched, closing his eyes tight.

"No!" Legolas squirmed in pain and his arm jerked uncontrollably and struck the table beside the bed. The decanter on the table wobbled and the prince held his breath as it wavered dangerously before falling off the table and shattering on the wood floor with a deafening crash. The tinkle of breaking glass sounded like Legolas' heart bursting.

He was in trouble now.

Ainan looked over at his nephew with reproachful hurt in his eyes. He smiled inwardly as he saw Legolas' face relax in an apologetic expression. Slowly, the prince lifted himself shakily off the bed, bent down and began to pick up the shattered glass, wondering why his uncle had not struck him yet. The older elf was capricious as the weather and utterly unpredictable at the best of times.

"I am only trying to help you, tôrion," Ainan said softly, sweeping over beside the prince and gently running his long fingers through the child's hair. Legolas winced and nodded, keeping his eyes firmly fastened on the glass on the floor.

"I know, Vedhir. I'm sorry."

The glass sliced into his finger as it slipped from his hand and the prince gasped at the sharp pain. He watched the blood drip away slowly until the cut healed over. Ainan smiled grimly at the prince's bowed head.

"I will not shame you by speaking of this, Legolas," Ainan said softly, his eyes deceptively mild. "And I trust you will do the same."

Gentle fingers skimmed under Legolas' eyes, tenderly wiping away the unshed tears that lingered on the child's eyelashes. The young elf looked up into his uncle's calm face.

"You know I am doing this for your own good, Legolas."

"Yes, Vedhir. I know," Legolas muttered, casting his eyes to the floor respectfully. "Straighten and clean yourself up, hên (child)," Ainan commanded. Legolas, seeing his dismissal, snatched up his tunic and all but fled from the room, forcing himself to swallow the tears burning his throat as his back throbbed painfully, chafing against the linen of his shirt.

He curled up in the farthest corner of the window seat and looked up for a sign of the stars. But dark clouds covered them and the lights of heaven were invisible this night. Legolas bowed his head, lost so deeply in his thoughts of despair that he did not hear his uncle leave the room and lock the door behind him.

Haldir watched his breath mist before him and curl off into the bitter cold air. The snapping wind howled among the naked tree trunks and the dismal scene only served to deepen the elf's profound sense of homesickness. But he pushed that away with a small, soundless laugh. Here he had been absent from Lothlórien for no more than a few weeks and already he longed to be home!

Although, the elf had to admit as he drew his fur-lined cloak more tightly about himself to ward off the chill and gentle snow, it was warmer and did not snow in Lothlórien- even in winter. Cold sunlight filtered through the trees but it granted no warmth to the small party below.

"We are nearly there," a soft voice said off to his left. The tall elf beside him, Cálivien, was the senior march-warden on this trip though Haldir commanded them. His hair was very light with shades of silver woven into the flaxen tresses that hinted at his Teleri ancestry. His calm green eyes gazed out at the forest, sweeping unceasingly for danger. He was as unshakable in his beliefs as his loyalty to the Lord and Lady of Light. And though he was the eldest present, he always respected Haldir's word as the last on any matter.

There were several other elves that accompanied Haldir on this mission for even in these days of uneasy peace, the passes were still dangerous and the forest of Mirkwood itself was not always a pleasant place. There were four of them traveling on this particular trip- Haldir and Cálivien included.

The other two were younger guards newly appointed to the Northern Fences. Rameil son of Rodhlir was a dark-haired elf of Rivendell who had recently come to Lothlórien to train in the guard there. He was eager for adventure and had offered his services on this mission. He was a good companion though often quiet and kept his own counsels well enough.

The other, Ancadal, was a friend of Haldir's brothers: Rùmil and Orophin. Though still rather young by elven standards, he showed astonishing skill with the bow and had so far been a worthy companion on their travels. Quick to laugh and with a bright face and merry eyes, the young elf was truly an asset to them. Haldir could see why his brothers enjoyed his companionship- he was not as jaded as many of the older elves of Lothlórien were.

Suddenly, the tips of green-fletched arrows gleamed in their faces. Startled out of his thoughts and slightly embarrassed at being caught unawares, Haldir checked his horse, staring into the darkness cast by the umbrage of the trees and the overcast grey sky.

"State your names," came a melodious but indifferent voice seemingly from one of the arrows. Haldir sat up straighter in the saddle, pride returning to him.

"I am Haldir of Lothlórien. These are my companions," he gestured to the ones surrounding him. "Cálivien, Rameil and Ancadal- guardians of the Golden Wood."

Figures cloaked in green and grey stepped out of the shadows and into the other elves' line of sight. It was dark beneath the trees and the pale hair and hands armed with glinting arrows created a disconcerting sense of disembodiment among the soldiers of Mirkwood. The elf directly in front of them bowed low.

"I am Sarithan, Captain of the Border Guards," he said in a mellifluous voice, no longer indifferent but welcoming. "You have been expected for several days now. The King awaits your arrival." Haldir nodded graciously as he thought protocol required and thanked him.

"Come, we must make haste," Sarithan said, setting a brisk pace off the path and into the woods. "Wolves have been spotted and overtaken within three miles of this place. Others will not be far behind." Haldir nodded. They had seen few signs of life in this forsaken forest as they journeyed through it but they had awoken several nights now to the far-off howling of some dark and lonesome creature.

The narrow edging between the trees proved difficult for the horses though the uneven footing was little trouble to the elves. Soon, as if by magic, the grand and sprawling elven palace appeared before them. Haldir and his comrades looked up in awe at the great stone structure that seemed to have grown out of the very bones of the earth.

The horses' hooves clopped on the stone bridge as they passed over the thunderous rush of the black river below. As the wooden gates swung open to admit them a young stable lad trotted over to meet them and took their weary steeds with a smile and a bow.

The Lothlórien messengers dismounted and began to walk towards the sturdy wooden gates of the palace. With a small amount of trepidation, Haldir walked up towards the marble steps looming before them.

The young elven prince wandered the outside halls of his home, deep in thought and weary in body and spirit. His back throbbed dully and he dared not bend overmuch lest he strain and reopen the wounds. If Ainan saw blood on his clothes he would be in even graver trouble. The sound of merry laughter broke his thoughts and he looked out the arched window into the courtyard below.

Rinniad and several others of his friends that he knew from his lessons were sporting about in the courtyard. It was a game favored by the young elves as they practiced their sword play without damaging their steel swords.

Their wooden blades were affixed with soft wraps of linen, soaked with the red dye of the winter berries they had gathered. The muffled clacking of wood rang in the courtyard with the ringing laughter of the young elves as Rinniad managed to tap his opponent across the chest with his sword, leaving a red stain on his jerkin.

Legolas felt a surge of sorrow slice through him. He knew that if he did not hurry, he would be late and his uncle would be angry with him. But, for just a moment, his loneliness broke through his fear. He needed to be with his friends who were beginning to wonder why he avoided them in the halls and did not speak to them when they passed each other on the way to practice. Legolas feared letting his secret slip even to his friends.

For the moment forgetting his troubles and knowing he would face them later, Legolas walked out into the sunlight. His friends welcomed him with shouts of joy and the prince smiled as Rinniad handed him a red-tipped sword with a slap on the back. Legolas winced but a smile managed to break through the pain of his tender wounds.

At that moment, a clatter of hooves reached his ears and Legolas and the others glanced up curiously as the gates opened over the bridge to admit unfamiliar riders draped in long cloaks of elven grey. The young prince watched as the riders dismounted, their faces concealed by their hoods. One, the apparent leader, spoke to Sarithan as a boy led his horse towards the stables.

Hearing the laughter of the children, the elf turned and Legolas caught a glimpse of his face- stern, proud but kind and his grey eyes sparkled with good humor. He smiled gently at the playing youngsters and nodded at Legolas as he noticed the younger one regarding him. The prince nodded numbly back, trying a small smile. Rinniad laughed.

"Legolas! Stop daydreaming! It is your turn," he chuckled. Legolas turned to his friend, wrenching his eyes from the stranger as he rejoined the game, trying not to wince as he pulled at his new injuries.

A light autumn wind tossed the elves' fair hair across their faces as they made their way up the marble stone stairs. The border captain left them at the gate and with a slight sense of apprehension; Haldir continued on through a second doorway into the palace itself.

The room they entered was vast and echoing with an arched ceiling that disappeared into the shadows far above them. Their footsteps seemed loud to the elves' ears as they began to traverse the length of the hall. A stuffy-looking elf in sweeping blue appeared suddenly out of a side door and walked up to them, smiling in welcome.

"Mae govannen, hirim-nin. (Well met, my lords.) I am Telas, the king's councilor." The elf touched his hand to his heart in greeting. Haldir and his companions returned the gesture.

"We wish to see the King if you please, my lord," Haldir said politely. Telas nodded.

"Of course. Follow me."

"Have we visitors, Telas?" a smooth voice asked as the travelers made their way across the great hall. The councilor froze at the sound of the voice and his smile fell slightly before he hitched it back up again.

"Ah, my lord," he gestured to the elf who had joined them. "This is the Queen's brother and Regent of our realm, Ainan."

Haldir looked at the other elf. He was tall and very slender with much darker hair than he had yet seen on an elf of Mirkwood. Haldir bowed respectfully in greeting which Ainan motioned away with a smile.

"A nal?" he inquired. Haldir straightened proudly, squaring his shoulders and lifting his head high.

"I am Haldir of Lothlórien, Captain of the Northern Fences of Lothlórien." The elf smiled, slightly mockingly, Haldir thought.

"That's quite a title."

Haldir said nothing in reply. Ainan's eyes in turn scrutinized the other elves flanking their commander and dismissed them abruptly.

"My brother-in-law is detained at the moment in his meetings. You understand of course." Haldir merely nodded although he was not sure he did. Hadn't the border captain said the King expected them? Why would the King have asked for them if he was too busy to see them? He noticed that Telas had not moved since Ainan had entered and seemed extremely uneasy about something.

"Please, gentlemen. Make yourselves at home," Ainan said amiably. "You will show them their rooms will you not, Telas?" The elf councilor bristled at this servile treatment but nodded briskly.

"Of course, my lord." There was a slight emphasis on the last word and it sounded, to Haldir's ears, as though there might be a mocking ring to it. If Ainan heard, he ignored it.

Telas turned away with a small bow and Haldir followed after him with his companions falling into step beside him. The elf commander had the disconcerting feeling that Ainan's eyes were fixed on him as they left the Great Hall.

Chapter Text

"Another point to me, Rinniad!"

The smaller elf glared at his opponent good-naturedly as he plucked at the edge of his tunic to display the red stain more prominently.

"Well… I could have done better if you had given me a half moment longer."

Legolas laughed and lowered his sword, trying not to flinch as a welt curving along the back of his shoulder blade twinged. He looked up as the warmth suddenly fled from his bones and shadow fell upon the small group. Legolas turned away, the laughter dying on his lips. The sun was falling below the treetops and twilight had begun to darken the forest. He abruptly handed off his red-tipped blade to Lóthmir.

"It is late. I have to go," he said, walking briskly off toward the eastern door.

"Already?" Rinniad protested. Lóthmir fell into step beside Legolas, his face uncommonly serious.

"We have not seen you for weeks now, Legolas. Where have you disappeared to?"

Purposefully leaving his friend's question unanswered, Legolas walked away from his searching gaze.

"I-I have to go," he repeated. "My father will be searching for me."

An icy wind blew in from the Misty Mountains and tossed the prince's fair hair across his face and with its chill returned his fear. With dragging steps, he walked across the courtyard, leaving his puzzled friends behind him. He began to trudge up the marble stairs towards his rooms. If he did not appear, Ainan would search for him and when he found him…

"If it isn't the little prince- running back to daddy are we?" Nárvenien smirked in the shadows of the arch of the doorway, her arms folded as she leaned indolently against the stone wall. Legolas felt his face grow hot. This female was forever getting on his nerves. During sparring practice, she was the one who would throw away her sword and bodily tackle the young prince, holding him down until Kirar pulled her off.

Legolas hesitated. She was a woman and his upbringing would not allow him to hit her- no matter what the cost. And her mother was a respected member of the palace but that did not make her daughter any easier to deal with. They lived in the palace itself but far enough away that Legolas did not often see her until practice.

He decided to ignore her and tried to walk past her through the double doors but she blocked his path.

Nárvenien leaned forward, smiling confidingly.

"I hear you at night," she said quietly, her voice full of hidden menace. "… sniveling in the dark…"

Legolas stopped dead at her words. How did she know? No one knew… He whirled on her.

"What mean you, Nárvenien?" he asked. Legolas' face must have registered his horror because the woman's feral grin grew all the wider.

"You'll never be a true prince," she sneered, deliberately leaving his question unanswered. "Just like your father isn't a true king- he's worthless… just like you."

Anger flooded through his veins like boiling water and suddenly Legolas dove at her. His attack caught her by surprise and the two tumbled painfully down the stair to sprawl at its foot. Legolas landed on his back as the breath whooshed from his lungs. He lay for a moment, willing the world to stop spinning around him as a sharp pain lanced through the back of his skull with the force of a thrown knife. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet rubbing the back of his head where he could feel a hard lump growing.

Ignoring the dull agony in his back and ribs, he turned, looking around for his foe. Nárvenien was already on her feet though blood ran from a cut on her forehead where it had struck the stone.

"That was foolish, you idiot," Nárvenien snarled, seeming to forget to whom she was speaking. Legolas returned nothing although his anger had not yet died down. He merely glared at her. He suddenly realized that others were staring at them now- Lóthmir and Rinniad ran towards them, reaching Legolas' side in an instant.

"What is happening here?"

"What do you want?" Lóthmir and Rinniad asked at the same time- one directed to Legolas the other to the female. Nárvenien's lip curled scornfully but she held her tongue- knowing the Captain of the Guard's son when she saw him. She had more reason to fear his father's wrath than the King's.

"The prince and I were having a little chat is all," she said, shrugging carelessly and walking away. Legolas bit his lip and looked down at the ground, troubled. What did Nárvenien know?

"What in the name of the stars just happened?" Rinniad asked again, irritated that no one had answered him. Legolas shook his head slowly, anger still reddening his cheeks. Lóthmir knew the spiteful woman well and nodded his sympathy to the prince.

"You will be able to attend the festival with us tonight won't you, Legolas?" Lóthmir asked at last, somewhat helplessly as he cast about for something to say in the face of the dull silence that had fallen between them.

"Do you think your father will still let you come?" Rinniad asked uncertainly. Legolas opened his mouth to reply but he heard the clatter of boots on the stones and all three looked up.

"What is going on here?" Kirar demanded, looking sternly from one to the other, noting the blood and bruises on Legolas' face. Nárvenien paused at the edge of the courtyard, a malicious grin on her face.

"They were fighting!" a nearby youth spoke up. Legolas recognized him as one of Nárvenien's friends and closed his eyes, groaning silently as his teacher looked down at him.

"Is this true, Legolas?" The prince looked at his feet and nodded numbly. The young lieutenant cast a sidelong glance at Nárvenien who adopted a look of mock innocence and shrugged in the face of his voiceless inquiry. But Kirar was not fooled- he knew well the rivalry between his two students. But his duties he also took to heart.

"I shall be speaking to your father about this," Kirar said grimly. Legolas' shoulders slumped slightly. "Follow me," the elven lieutenant commanded. He turned when the flame-haired female did not follow them.

"That includes you as well, Nárvenien," he said sternly. The girl looked up sharply, her face flooding with indignation.

"But, sir, he-"

"Now!" he barked. The sharpness in his voice apparently startled her for she winced and trotted sullenly in Kirar's wake up the marble stairs. Legolas followed glumly after her, glancing over his shoulder at his friends.

"Where are you dragging these two off to, Kirar? More torturous archery lessons?" Telas inquired with a small smile as he moved towards the small group in the hallway. The elven lieutenant looked up sharply.

"These two miscreants were brawling, my lord. I am taking them to their parents for punishment." Thranduil's councilor raised a speculative eyebrow at Legolas' bowed head.

"Oh? Under what circumstances?"

"Well, my lord, they-" Kirar began to explain but Telas cut him off.

"Yes, yes, but of course! We all have much to do I'm sure. You're quite busy, I understand. You may be able to find Eraeriel in the library. And don't worry, I shall take care of Legolas." The prince in question blinked in surprise as the councilor effectively rid himself of the soldier and his other charge. Telas turned back to Legolas when Kirar and Nárvenien were out of earshot.

"It's that Nárvenien girl isn't it?" Legolas looked up at his father's councilor, surprised. He hadn't known that Telas paid any attention to such things.

"Yes." The councilor shook his head, his lips pursued.

"Wretched girl." Legolas gazed at him askance; a small smile threatening the corner of his lips as he vigorously nodded his agreement. Telas raised an eyebrow.

"Did you hit her?" Legolas blushed and looked away.

"I… we fell down the stairs." Telas snorted.

"Good. A knock on the head is what that girl deserves." The councilor smiled kindly at the prince.

"I haven't seen you in my classes of late, Legolas." The young prince looked at the ground ashamedly. He had scarcely had the strength to rise out of his bed each morning after one of his uncle's 'training sessions' much less to go to classes.

"I-I know. I've-" But Telas held up a hand.

"I don't want any of your excuses. I merely want you there." He waved a hand impatiently.

"Go on now," he said brusquely. "Off with you."

"But- but my punishment?" Legolas asked, his mouth dry. Telas looked around and leaned forward conspiratorially.

"I will not tell your father of this if you don't, Legolas," he whispered. The prince looked up at him hopefully, feeling a rush of gratitude towards the councilor.

"Really?" Legolas swore he received the tiniest wink in answer and breathed a sigh of profound relief- if his father didn't know, his uncle wouldn't either.

"Thanks, Telas," he said gratefully. He started to walk back down the hall but the councilor called him back.

"However, Legolas-" The prince turned slowly, his face showing his sudden unease. But Telas was still smiling. "I want you to be in my class tomorrow." Smiling brightly again, Legolas nodded.

"I will."

And this time, he felt as though he could keep that promise.

Haldir sighed quietly for what seemed like the fifth time that hour as he heard Ancadal shift impatiently beside him. Negotiations were not going quite as well as he dared hope. The Lady had sent him to Mirkwood to request Thranduil to sign a unification treaty between their two realms. It would allow the elves of Mirkwood and Lothlórien to trade with one another and trust would blossom between the two kingdoms once more.

For what reasons Thranduil protested this, Haldir did not know. It was true that Lothlórien had had no vast involvement in the Last Alliance- thinking it a hopeless and useless cause. While the former had not proven true, the latter had and the Ring had been lost but not unmade. Because of this, Mirkwood had grown estranged from its southern brethren after the death of its king. But now the Elves of Lórien were trying to amend the contentions between them and unite the Kindreds.

Thranduil, however, was reticent and Haldir understood his position for his father had been slain in that great battle. Had a contingent of Lórien elves aided them, their downfall might not have been so grievous and the King deeply resented Galadriel her peace and security in that Golden Forest.

But that was no reason for the near-enmity between the two to continue.

The discussions were long and seemingly endless; it was clear that they would come to no agreement today.

"I weary of this," Thranduil assented at last. Haldir smothered a smile as he heard Ancadal breathe a soft sigh of relief.

"The festival is tonight- enjoy yourselves. We shall speak of these troublesome matters another time." Seeing his dismissal, Haldir bowed to the King and led the way out.

Cálivien smiled as he stepped out of the shadows where he had wisely taken a seat during the proceedings. Having been a part of treaty negotiations at one time or another in his long life, he knew how long they could become. He clapped a hand on his young commander's shoulder and gave him a slight wink.

"Not bad for your first attempt." Haldir rolled his eyes despairingly.

"If I never have to do that again it will be too soon." The older elf chuckled and shook his head.

"Don't worry. We'll make a diplomat of you yet."

"May we be excused from the next ensnarement, please?" Ancadal interjected pleadingly.

"No. If I must suffer so shall you."

The other two laughed at Haldir's brusque refusal while Ancadal looked downright crestfallen. Rameil glanced out the window at the afternoon sun which was slowly drifting down towards the trees.

"At least it was no worse than one of Elrond's endless discourses," he remarked stolidly. He alone had been the most patient among them (other than Cálivien, of course). Ancadal laughed blithely.

"Lord Elrond has enough wind in him to quench a Balrog's fire if he had a mind."

"Do not speak so disrespectfully,' Cálivien admonished sternly, a small grin threatening his lips.

As the elves good-naturedly ribbed each other down the corridor, they did not see the cloaked figure that watched them from the shadows.

The sun was waning. Haldir sighed deeply, breathing in the crisp air blowing in from the cold mountains in the east. He leaned his elbows languidly on the stone terrace. Little blue flowers entwined with greenish grey ivy curled around the balustrades and around his elbows as the sun sank into a glorious display of crimson and deepest bronze. The dark green of the trees added a profound sense of mystery and serenity to the natural austere beauty of the forest and its black river which flowed, babbling over the pebbles at its bottom.

Negotiations had not gone as well with the King as he had hoped but Haldir felt sure that they would be able to return home soon- before the winter set in earnestly, he hoped, for he did not relish the thought of traveling through the snows and bitter wind. Though the snow and cold troubled the elves little, it was an inconvenience if the passes home were blocked with snow or hungry wolves sought them out for fresh blood.

Shaking aside those thoughts, Haldir looked up at the sky again. The weather was oddly heavy for this time of year. The snows would come early, he was sure of it, looking up at the grey clouds enveloping what small expanse of sky he could see through the thickly interlacing branches of the trees.

A light step alerted him to a presence behind him and he turned away from his reflections. Cálivien leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually before him.

"Standing out here alone again, are you?" he asked lightly.

"Is that a rebuke?" the younger elf demanded, smiling slightly as he raised a challenging eyebrow.

"An observation."

Haldir said nothing more as he conceded to the other's remark with a nod, his gaze returning to the fastness of the forest spread out before them. The older elf came up behind him and followed his eyes southeast.

"Thinking of home?" Haldir observed, feeling a slight twinge of wistfulness himself. The older elf smiled.

"Only of the sorry state my patrol is going to be in by the time I return." Haldir laughed softly- as a part of said patrol, he knew what kind of taskmaster Cálivien was and also knew that his regimental duties would gladly be taken up by the younger captains in Lórien so that nothing would be lacking when he returned.

"We will be fortunate indeed if the entire eastern side hasn't been razed when we return with all of the sightings there were of orcs before we left," Haldir muttered absently. He had been against their going from the first. What would the borders do without one of their senior captains? Every elf was needed to protect the borders- it was their duty and Haldir was diffident to leave even at the Lady's behest. Cálivien laughed heartily and clapped his longtime student and friend on the shoulder.

"You worry far too much. And you always have." Haldir smiled faintly and shook his head in reply. The silver-haired elf sobered as he looked out at the darkening forest.

"The stars will be out soon," Cálivien remarked idly, staring up at the heavens.

"I do not think any stars will break through these dark clouds," Haldir replied mildly.

"Have more hope, mellon-nin!" The older elf chided lightly, his words masking more than the picayune circumstances of the weather. He knew Haldir was rather uncertain of his capabilities as a leader. It always was so on a first trial and Cálivien had known the younger elf too long to be bothered by his oft-sober mood. But if he was to have any confidence in himself, Haldir would have to shake himself free of the preemptory frost of uncertainty.

The older elf's eyes swept the walls before him. The sheer battlements of the palace fell sharply away from them then sloped gently down towards the courtyard. A white fountain's rush could be scarcely heard in the gardens some ways to their right, lost among the trees. Below them, many elves worked busily- gathering dead branches for firewood or organizing horses for a hunting party to retrieve the night's meal. Night was falling rapidly and the first piercing tunes of a lyre floated up to their ears.

"The festival is about to begin," Cálivien said, his eyes fixed interestedly on the activities below. He cast a sideways glance at the younger elf.

"Mayhap some eager maiden is waiting down there to share an enchanting evening with a young bachelor, hmm?" Haldir smirked slightly as he walked back into his rooms to alert the others.

"Don't count yourself so fortunate, mellon-nin. You're not young anymore." Cálivien laughed and followed after Haldir. The King had expressly insisted upon their attendance at the celebration tonight. Hurriedly dressing in something more suitable than their hunting leathers, the four elves hastened down to the riverside where the bonfires were being lit on the edge of the forest.

Legolas too watched the fires being lit in the gardens and his heart ached to join them for the stars burned cold and brightly overhead (the clouds having abated). There would be much merrymaking tonight. His uncle had been thankfully absent during the afternoon and Legolas was grateful for the reprieve. The prince stopped suddenly on his way towards the great hall as he caught sight of a familiar figure standing at one of the long, narrow windows in the corridor that gazed out over the palace grounds but before he could speak the silhouetted figure addressed him.

"Good evening, ernil-nin (my prince)." Legolas looked awkwardly up at the lieutenant, remembering their confrontation earlier that afternoon.

"Good evening, sir," he answered deferentially. "Are you going to be joining the hunt?" Legolas asked suddenly, knowing that seldom a season passed when the elven lieutenant failed to bring home the prize. Kirar kept his eyes carefully fixed out on the frowning dusk and answered noncommittally. Legolas looked up at his sparring teacher. Kirar seemed very uneasy about something.

"Is something troubling you, sir?" he asked quietly, not wanting to seem intrusive. The lieutenant shook his head absently, his fair face still deeply troubled.

"No, of course not. Why would you think that?" Legolas shook his head and shrugged: it was a blatant lie even the young prince could see that but he would not press him if Kirar wished to say nothing.

"You seem to carry a heavy burden on your shoulders." Kirar did not reply to that, his eyes darting around the broad lawn stretched out below them to the dark tree line as though he expected some sort of monstrosity to materialize from the fluttering shadows beneath the rocking boughs.

"I'm sure you have the festival to attend to, Legolas," he said at last, obviously wanting the prince to leave. Legolas took the hint and nodded quickly, stepping back into the shadows of the corridor.

"Prince Legolas!" a guard hailed him as he entered the great hall just inside the double doors of the palace. Legolas stopped, recognizing Lóthmir's father hastening towards him.

"Mae govannen, Tirien!" he called out joyously. The captain of the Royal Guard greeted the prince warmly.

"How do you fare, my prince? Lóthmir told me how you soundly defeated Rinniad in swordplay this afternoon." Legolas smiled at the thought but he could not stay and banter all night.

"I'm sorry Tirien. The festival-" Tirien waved him on.

"Of course, of course! Have fun. Fortunate for you to have a warm fire nearby while the rest of us linger on the cold borders," he joked. Legolas grinned, knowing perfectly well that he would more than likely be seeing the guard and his son that very evening during the course of the celebration.

"Oh! Before I forget, Legolas," Tirien called back suddenly. "Your father wished to speak with you."

The happy euphoria that had filled Legolas' heart deflated. What would his father want with him?

Shutting the outside door reluctantly behind him, Legolas hastened to his father's rooms.

"Ah, Legolas. There you are." Thranduil greeted his son as the prince sidled into the room. Legolas took a seat on the divan as he watched his father slide an auburn colored mantle over his shoulders.

"What did you want to speak with me about, Ada?" Thranduil paused for a long moment to adjust the crown of autumn leaves upon his golden hair; and the knot in Legolas' stomach grew tighter with anxiety.

"I heard that you were scuffling in the courtyard today with Eraeriel's daughter." Legolas looked up in surprise. How had his father found out? And did his uncle know? He felt slightly betrayed that Telas had gone back on his word but his father's angry voice broke off his thoughts.

"Legolas, I am very disappointed in you," Thranduil said gravely, his fair features drawn. "A prince does not shame his family by fighting in the streets like a common dwarf," The King continued. Legolas felt his cheeks flush red with shame.

The door swung open in the middle of Thranduil's tirade and he paused as Ainan stood in the doorway.

"Pardon, Thranduil but the people are requesting their monarch to begin the festival." The King waved a hand dismissively.

"In a moment, Ainan."

"Thranduil, they will not-"

"A moment, I said!" the King snapped sharply. Ainan fell silent, his chin lifted proudly and eyes flashing but he remained quiet. Legolas looked away uneasily and caught sight of his mother standing in the doorway his uncle had vacated. Thranduil sighed and turned again to his erroneous son.

"I want to speak to you later, Legolas- to arrange your punishment." The son nodded sullenly. Ainan smiled briefly then his face turned grim as he stepped forward and put a hand on the prince's shoulder. Legolas tried very hard not to shudder.

"Rest assured, Thranduil. Legolas and I will be having a long talk about his… indiscretions." Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

"I can discipline my own son, Ainan, thank you," he answered icily, sweeping past his brother-in-law and out the door.

"If nothing else," Ainan hissed so quietly that none else heard.

"I suppose I'll not be allowed to attend the festival tonight," Legolas said glumly after his father. The King looked long and hard at his son and glanced at his wife, who cast him a pleading look.

"Your punishment will start tomorrow," Thranduil relented, knowing how much his son enjoyed the winter feasts above all others. Legolas looked up, a small smile of relief on his face.

"Hannon le, ada," he said. The smile died quickly from his lips as his uncle looked down at him, a calculating gleam in his eyes. Legolas shifted uncomfortably and quickly darted past his uncle and into the relative safety of the corridor as he followed after his parents.

He glanced out the mullioned windows towards the slowly setting sun as he followed his parents down the corridor.

Tonight was Narbeleth- the best festival of the year. The weather was just capricious enough to allow for a few final, though chill, days of autumn before the cold snap froze the river and the spiders returned in earnest to their warm hollows to feast on the unwary. However, no troubles would they heed tonight.

Tonight, there would be music and dancing, and towards the end of the night all of those of age would mount their steeds and ride off in search of the white hinds who gathered every year at this time to the forest river for one last time before the frost confined them to their thickets. The elusive and beautiful creatures had never been caught and each year was a competition to see which elf could get the closest to the deer before they escaped.

The young elf prince sighed and looked up at the overcast clouds scudding across the sky, swallowing up the light. It would be a dark night but Legolas' heart was light for a time. Tonight, at least, he would be safe from the horrors that haunted his waking and dreaming nightmares.

The light of the blazing and roaring flames irradiated the underside of the dark leaves of the trees that towered into an over lacing canopy far above their heads. Legolas seated himself at his father and mother's side at the long wooden table. On Thranduil's left sat Ainan and on either side of the table sat the four elves from Lothlórien.

The sweet music of wood flutes drifted on the chill air and the snapping of the bonfires warmed the air around them. The mouth-watering scent of roasted meat filled the air.

After the meal, Legolas and his friends entertained themselves by listening to the regaling tales of one of the elves of Lothlórien. The silver-haired elf's face was alight as he spoke of the glory of victory against the orcs that appeared from over the mountains. The eager younglings watched his gesticulating hands and the fire's glow upon his animated face, captivated by the story.

Legolas caught sight of the two others of the elves from Lothlórien, standing amid the green and blues of Mirkwood in their grey cloaks. He could see them not far away.

Their gilt bows were drawn and it was obvious that they were considering a contest. Legolas watched as the dark-haired one grinned and nodded to his compatriot, pacing twelve steps away or so and readied himself, gripping his bow tightly with his other hand out and ready, his gaze intent upon the trees before him.

Legolas raised an eyebrow and raised his head slightly to see better. He had heard of this game among the elves of Lórien but had never actually seen it. His father had forbidden it to the younger elves because of the imminent peril incited by the 'game.'

The younger elf, Ancadal, drew an arrow from his quiver and set it to the string. He shot a glance across the clearing to where the King and his Queen sat, noting their occupation with other matters. He grinned and drew his arrow to the string.

And loosed it straight at his companion's unprotected back.

The arrow buzzed through the air with the speed and fervor of a stinging wasp.

At the last moment, Rameil spun around and snatched the arrow out of the air, swiftly fitting it to his own bow and firing it back at his companion. Ancadal repeated the motion, spinning around swiftly to catch the arrow.

Legolas let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

It was Rameil's turn again and he grasped at the arrow. Suddenly, the shaft skated nimbly through his fingers and clipped him in the thigh as it shot away into the darkness. His companion, after inquiring to his welfare, laughed at the chagrined expression on his friend's face.

Legolas smiled too and looked around the merry crowd but he did not see the one who had waved at him in the courtyard.

Cálivien, noticing several of his audiences' distraction, looked up. His verdant eyes narrowed and he abruptly stood, walking towards the two elves. But he stopped as another elf appeared suddenly. Ancadal released his arrow again only to have it snatched out of the air in the middle of its flight. Puzzled, he looked around and Legolas watched him pale slightly and look sheepishly at the ground with his bow in his hands like an elfling caught misbehaving.

Legolas smothered a grin as he recognized the elf and watched as the elven commander handed the arrow back to the younger elf with a sharp reprimand. The words were too softly spoken to catch even with the prince's keen ears but he watched the tips of Ancadal's ears redden with embarrassment and nod silently. Rameil winked at his fellow soldier, a small grin threatening his lips- until Haldir rounded on him.

Legolas spent as much time as possible with his friends for he didn't know when he would see them again or the light of day for that matter because of Ainan's and Telas' lessons and his father's punishment... He doubted he would have any time left at all for his friends.

But after a while, he forgot his melancholy and bid his friends goodnight as he rose, walking alone on the path through the gardens. It was quiet here and very peaceful. He wandered aimlessly, breathing in the sweet, lingering scents of lavender that grew wild on the hedges and the white flowers and roses that sent their heavy scent drifting through the air. For the first time in a long time, he forgot his fear and simply breathed in the present.

He heard water tinkling nearby and knew he was close to the white marble fountain that was his mother's most beloved place. Thranduil had created it especially for her. The moonlight seemed to linger on the whiteness of the basin as Legolas moved towards it but stopped abruptly as he realized that he was not alone.

He lifted his head, glancing up at the bright stars overhead but out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow move.

Nárvenien stepped out from the darkness, her red hair contrasting with the night. Her green eyes were livid.

"You got me into trouble," she spat. Legolas' eyes narrowed.

"I'm in trouble too," he reasoned. She scoffed.

"You're the King's son. What do you have to do? Make your own bed?" Legolas flushed. Nárvenien took another step towards him, her fists raised as though she sought to hit him.

"You'll pay for that, little princeling. And now there are no stairs for you to throw us down." She bared her teeth in an acerbic sneer and lunged forward.

"Beautiful evening, is it not?" The red-haired female checked her attack immediately and looked up at this new voice, releasing the collar of the young prince's tunic.

"Who's that?" she demanded, taking an automatic step backward.

A dark figure detached itself from the umbrage of the trees overhanging the path and stepped into the moonlight, his sharp features illuminated by the silver light. Nárvenien momentarily closed her eyes in mortification as she realized that she had just disrespected a guest in their halls.

"I-I'm sorry, sir!" she stammered awkwardly. "I… didn't see you there."

Haldir nodded slowly, his gaze darting towards the prince. Legolas looked away, embarrassed to be caught fighting before this stranger.

Nárvenien simpered and curtsied neatly, bringing forth all of her charm

"It is indeed a lovely evening, sir. I am Nárvenien." She smiled politely and extended her hand which Haldir took and brought to his lips briefly. With a flash of her red hair tossed loosely over one shoulder, Nárvenien smiled at the Lórien commander and shot a look of pure venom at Legolas before striding out of the garden.

Legolas looked at the strange elf and blinked in surprise as he realized that it was the same elf that he had seen in the courtyard earlier that afternoon. He bowed quickly.

"Good evening, hir-nin (my lord)." Haldir waved aside the polite formality and smiled faintly, returning the bow in Lórien fashion with his hand over his heart.

"Good evening, ernil neth (young prince) but my family have never been lords- please, call me Haldir." Legolas nodded, unsure if he could actually do that or not. He had been taught to respect adults and that entailed, usually, a title of some sort.

Haldir's grey gaze swept the garden, breathing in the sweet floral scents and watching the clear fountain water fall into the basin.

"This is a beautiful place," he said quietly, almost to himself. Legolas nodded his agreement.

"It is my mother's garden."

Legolas chanced a glance up at the older elf.

He was quite tall, cloaked against the chill and he stood quite still, watching the tranquil water which still fell even in the cold. His gaze lifted to the brightly shining stars above- so very clear on such a cold night.

Legolas looked up too, catching his breath at the myriad pinpricks of tiny lights spread across the inky blackness of the sky.

"The Gil-Estel is very bright tonight," Haldir said quietly, his gaze fixed on the brightest star in the sky- the hope of the elves. Legolas smiled fondly.

"My mother often tells me the stories of the Elder Days," he said softly, looking up at Haldir. "Of… Earendil and Elwing… and the glory of the battles and suchlike." Haldir smiled.

"You enjoy such tales?" he asked lightly. Legolas nodded eagerly, his eyes shining.

"Very much. My favorite tale is the one of the Silmarils- of Fëanor." Haldir nodded, sobering slightly.

"Yes. The tale of the Silmarils- a grim history- filled with both great sorrow and great beauty." Legolas looked down at the ground before voicing his question.

"Where-where you… ?" he trialed off, embarrassed for asking. Haldir looked down at him.

"Alive during that time- heavens no! I feel old already- but certainly not that old!" he laughed and a small smile spread across Legolas' face too. Haldir glanced up at the hovering moon to gauge the hour.

"It is late, young prince. Should you not be abed soon?" Legolas shrugged but he had, too, noticed the hour. It was later than he had anticipated but he did not wish to leave such interesting company. Haldir caught the look on his face and smiled knowingly.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" Haldir suggested, intrigued by this young elf. "Perhaps, you could show me around your most beautiful home." Legolas smiled slightly and nodded.

"I'd like that." The golden-haired prince looked up but Haldir's eyes were fixed on something beyond him. Haldir forcibly smothered a groan as Cálivien strode purposefully into the garden towards him.

"Forgive me, young prince, for I must divest you of your comrade: I have resolved to see Haldir dance tonight." Legolas hid a smile as Haldir bowed as graciously as he could as Cálivien tugged on his arm.

"Another time then, Prince Legolas." The younger elf nodded.

"Another time."

Legolas smiled slightly and watched the two elves disappear through the white arched gate. He followed in their wake, thinking to either rejoin his friends or go on up to his rooms for the night for he was quite weary- it had been a long and busy day.

"Legolas." The voice made the younger elf look up as calmly as he could though his heart jumped uncomfortably in his chest. He stopped dead, his cheeks draining of color.

Ainan stood at the entrance to the garden, his dark gold hair shimmering in the moonlight. His glittering eyes were fixated on the young prince.

"Your father wishes you to begin your punishment tonight- now."

"But… I thought my father decided to let me start it to-"

"It is the King's decision- to change his mind if he so wishes," Ainan interrupted smoothly. Legolas nodded mutely, his eyes downcast and a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he followed after his uncle.

As they flitted through the shadows, he could see the remnants of the feast and the strains of a light melody from golden harps drifted to his ears. The laughter of his father's people rang in his ears- merry- but to him, it sounded hollow, forced, jeering as he passed into the empty darkness of the palace.

Chapter Text

A sharp clacking noise reverberated through the chill winter air. The forest was only just lit by the fiery gold of the newly risen sun. Sparkling beads of dew clung to the frosted grasses.

Legolas breathed the fresh air in deeply, relishing the feel of the wood in his hand and the wind in his hair. He darted forward with a battle ready cry. His thrust was easily turned aside and he felt a sharp poke between his ribs. The young prince danced agilely out of reach, pausing for a moment to gain his breath.

"Not weary already are you?" his sparring partner challenged with a laugh. Legolas grinned and merely shook his head, lunging at Haldir again- more carefully this time.

This was a part of the familiar morning ritual the two had developed while the Lórien elves stayed at the palace. Since their afternoons were occupied by meetings or lessons, the two elves decided that the mornings would be an ideal time to either talk or, as was their custom, walk around the gardens or spar which was usually Legolas' favorite. Except for today.

In truth, the young prince was exhausted. He had worked in the cellars beneath his father's halls until the moon had drifted westward as he had for several weeks in punishment for fighting with Nárvenien.

And he had not slept well the rest of the night. Unconsciously, he shivered.

Legolas could not help his body's reaction to avoid pain and shook uncontrollably with a mixture of cold and fear for the icy wind edged through the cracks of his windows, bringing the closed room to a temperature even he could feel clothed in nothing but his leggings.

"You leave me no choice, Legolas," Ainan said as he produced several strips of linen that he had torn the sheets into. With these he curbed Legolas' struggles. The restraints were tight and often left red marks for hours but the prince's long sleeves covered them as Ainan well knew.

Legolas shut his eyes as he saw his uncle lift the familiar and terrible rod from the corner. The first blow sent a shockwave of pain tingling up his spine but he managed to bite his tongue to keep a sound from escaping his lips.

He was being childish and accepted the pain as he clenched his teeth against it. He deserved this pain, he thought. His uncle would not treat him so cruelly unless he had earned it somehow. Legolas had told himself this so many times over the years that he firmly believed it now. However, that did not make the pain any easier to bear.

He tried to block it out, to think of the times he spent with his friends- laughing as they raced through the forest, the peaceful days that he could scarcely remember anymore when he had spent the warm afternoon sitting under the shade in the garden reading. It seemed a part of another lifetime entirely.

Legolas forced down the pain and humiliation and fear into a small, hard lump and swallowed it, locking it tightly away in his heart.

The beating hurt worse this time- and lasted longer. Tears had long since begun running down the young prince's face and into his pillow by the time his uncle tired.

With a terse toss, Ainan hurled the rod into the corner. Rounding the edge of the bed, he lifted his nephew by his hair and ran a slender finger along the child's tearstained face.

"Another lesson you have failed, Legolas," he said quietly, his tone deeply disgusted. Legolas cast his eyes to the torn and filthy sheets.

"I know. I'm sorry, Vedhir," he murmured, ashamed. Ainan shook him and Legolas winced at the pain wrenching through his skull.

"You should be, boy. You are a prince- and yet here you lie before me- too weak and stupid to control your own emotions!"

Fearing another beating, Legolas quickly composed his face, drawing in a few deep, shaky breaths until his heart slowed a little. He wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands and straightened his shoulders.

Ainan nodded approvingly.

"Much better." He ruffled the young prince's hair with a soft laugh before gliding out of the room and shutting the door with a snap behind him.

"Sweet dreams, tôrion."

Unable to sleep but too shaken with fear and pain to rise, Legolas lay on his stomach, breathing heavily into his pillow as he forced the tears away and turned his face towards the grey light that was slowly seeping through his dark room.

"Legolas?"

"I'm sorry?" Legolas' head came up sharply at the sound of the other's voice. "What did you say?" Haldir smiled gently at the young elf's preoccupation.

"I asked if perhaps you would like to go for a walk before your lessons start," Haldir suggested. Legolas nodded fervently, eager to take his mind off his memories.

The younger elf had quickly grown to like the tall elf from Lothlórien who told him many tales of glory and battle and adventures outside the vast forest. But still, there lingered a fear and distrust of 'these foreigners' as he had heard his uncle refer to them.

The two walked towards the garden, the most beautiful part of the palace- even on a chill, fall day. Haldir inhaled deeply of the fresh fragrances that drifted on the wind from the mountains as the grass, rimmed with frost, crunched beneath their light footfalls.

The young elf trailed at the elder's heels, always at least a step or two behind, as though he were a servant. Haldir would beckon him closer but only reluctantly would he come and always the young elf would drift back to his former position with downcast eyes.

"It is difficult to speak with you, Legolas, if my back is always to you," Haldir said softly, craning his neck over his shoulder to look at the young prince. Legolas looked up guiltily.

"I-I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to be rude," he said, abruptly trotting up beside the older elf, his eyes large and almost- frightened? Haldir shook such thoughts out of his head and smiled which was faintly returned.

"As I told you before, young prince, I am no lord. Please, call me Haldir." Legolas nodded obediently.

His eyes drifted to outside the path towards the red roses that grew even in the chill of winter and stopped. Haldir halted beside him, frowning in puzzlement. He glanced at Legolas and followed the young prince's gaze. He immediately looked away, embarrassed.

In the remotest corner of the garden under the overhanging willow trees that clung stubbornly near the black river entwining through the palace itself, two elves stood- one male, the other female. The intruders watched for an uncomfortable moment as the lovers shared a soft kiss.

Legolas recognized Kirar but the woman was unfamiliar to him. Her clothes, however, denoted her rank as a servant in the palace more than likely though Legolas had never seen her before.

"We should not have seen this," he said quietly, edging away. Haldir nodded once and fell into step beside him.

Such a love between servants and soldiers was often discouraged lest it compromise the position of either. Legolas wondered for a moment if he should say something to his father but decided against it. It was not his place.

Legolas was merely relieved to be outside. He had been granted the morning free for his leisure although he would have Telas' lessons to attend in the afternoon. He had promised the older elf he would be there so, despite his uncle's ministrations, he rose each morning and cleaned himself up as best he could before joining the classes. He had yet to be late and was proud of himself for that fact.

Haldir sensed the younger elf's distraction and waited patiently for him to sort through it as the two walked for a while in companionable silence.

"You are fortunate to live here without brother or sister," he remarked after a moment. Legolas shrugged noncommittally. He often wished for a brother or sister even if that meant only that Ainan's attention would occasionally be elsewhere.

His father and mother were often away- doing whatever it was they did to run the kingdom. Legolas did not know or understand but he knew loneliness… and fear. After the 'training sessions' with his uncle, Legolas could not stand to stay in the same room alone with him and avoided him as much as possible so as not to incur his wrath further.

The King and Queen surmised their son's behavior to be but reticence.

"Give your uncle a chance, ion-nin," Anariel entreated as Legolas hurriedly looked away when Ainan passed by.

"He means well."

Legolas mutely shook his head. If only she knew… But Ainan had warned him time and time again not to worry his mother with such trivialities. It would upset her and Legolas had no intention of causing his mother worry for something as picayune as his uncle's discipline.

"You are very distracted today, Legolas," Haldir observed quietly. The young prince looked up guiltily,

"I'm sorry." Haldir shook his head, smiling slightly.

They had wandered the length of the gardens and slowly ascended the marble stairs up to the palace. The burnished gold of the sun had faded into ivory as it ascended over the trees.

The vast palace was already awake and bustling, preparing for the day ahead. The two early risers wandered away from the bustle and chattering of the servants and chose a quieter corridor to walk through in companionable silence.

Legolas' head suddenly shot up and he quailed into the shadows behind the statue of the Star Queen. Haldir looked at him in puzzlement then down the hall at the elf striding towards them. The prince shook his head and mouthed soundlessly at him.

"Please, don't say anything. Do not tell him I am here." He knew he would get into dreadful trouble if his uncle caught him but his back still hurt so badly and he finally felt at ease with another adult. He just wanted that peace to last for as long as he could even if it meant disobeying his uncle and incurring further wrath later.

"Who is he?" Haldir asked out of the side of his mouth. Legolas merely shook his head.

I will be in trouble if he finds me Legolas whispered quietly. Haldir turned his head so he could see the younger elf then shot him a quick, reassuring smile as the boy shot a fearful look up at him. The many times he had escaped his tutors as well! Smiling, Haldir turned his attention back towards the window they had been peering out of.

"You shall not be betrayed by me, young prince."

It seemed for a moment, that Ainan would walk on past. But scarcely had he passed the statue of Varda than he halted, his gaze flickering to the elf at the window.

Haldir made no sign that he had seen Ainan approaching but turned politely as the elf cleared his throat. He bowed his head slightly to the Queen's brother.

"How can I be of service to you, lord?" he asked. Ainan smiled.

"I am searching for my nephew- Legolas. Have you yet spoken with him today?" Haldir shook his head faithfully.

"I have seen him not, hir-nin," Haldir replied. For a long moment, Ainan stared hard at him as though gauging whether the elf spoke truth or not. What his consensus was, Haldir never knew for Ainan's face was completely unreadable.

Legolas shut his eyes and tried to scrunch himself as far as possible into the shadows behind the statue of Lady Elbereth. For a breathless minute, he was sure his uncle had seen him as his gaze flickered over the marble statue but Ainan looked away again and fixed his gaze on the elf captain who stared back at him expressionlessly. The Regent pasted an obviously forced smile on his face and nodded to the elf captain.

"Do let me know when you see him, Commander. I wish to speak with him as soon as possible." Haldir nodded noncommittally and Legolas breathed a sigh of relief as Ainan disappeared down the corridor.

"He is the Regent, is he not? Ainan?" Haldir asked, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the retreating elf's back. He remembered the elf he had met when he had first arrived. Legolas merely nodded his head and said nothing more.

His blue gaze drifted out towards the high sun and his face paled slightly.

"Oh, no! I'm late!" he moaned. With a quick goodbye, the young prince shot off down the hall. Haldir smiled slightly before he realized that he, too, was late for his own meeting with the King and, with as much dignity as he could, raced off down the hall.

Chapter Text

The setting sun seemed to set the very leaves ablaze for the days were growing shorter and night came earlier. Legolas glanced out of the frost rimed windows. He moved gingerly, wriggling free of the linen restraints with difficulty. A muffled groan threatened to tear itself from his raw throat but the prince kept his lips tightly clenched as he stood on trembling legs.

He staggered over to the basin of water and washed his back as best he could. The fresh cuts stung as he cleansed them and he bit his lip until he nearly tasted blood to keep from crying out. He absently watched the red water swirl away through the small hole in the basin as he tied his tangled hair back from his flushed face and carefully slipped into a clean linen shirt, wincing as the rough spun wool chafed against his tender back. He paused as he glanced down at the ruined tunic at his feet and shook his head. He paced with difficulty to his bedroom door, relieved to find it unlocked.

The young prince buttoned his tunic hastily and padded out into the silent hallway. Servants passed him on their way to the dining hall for supper as he paced past the kitchens. He paused at a great oaken door beside the library; the door was ajar.

He edged around the doorway and peered into his father's study, feeling somewhat like an intruder. This was one of the few rooms he was not allowed to enter without special permission for Thranduil kept it meticulously neat.

The woodland King was hunched busily over a pile of papers, his hands ink stained with many hours of long and tedious work. He looked tired, Legolas noticed. Out of the corner of his eye, Thranduil caught a glimpse of gold and, glancing sideways, saw his son standing hesitantly in the doorway. Welcoming the distraction, Thranduil set down his quill and motioned his son into the room.

"Come in, ion-nin! I was just thinking of taking a break for supper." Legolas slid into the room and seated himself beside his father in a cushioned armchair. He looked around at the study in fascination- his father was a collector of many things, much to his mother's annoyance.

The study was opulent but not superciliously so. Though the walls were stone, they had been intricately carved with gold-gilded embellishments like to the entwining of great tree vines. A living vine crawled up the west wall and beautiful purple flowers bloomed within, lighting the air with a heady, fragrant aroma. On a cold, autumn night such as tonight, a flickering fire blazed where a soot-stained rug draped the hearth.

A large shelf stood against another wall, jumbled high with books, manuscripts, histories of forgotten civilizations… and all manner of interesting and potentially dangerous artifacts cluttered together in no particular order. A magnificent sword hung over the mantle, the very same one that Thranduil had borne to war in the days of the Las Alliance, long since collecting dust.

It was a room fit for a king, Legolas supposed. And only Thranduil knew exactly where everything was in his study; the servants had long ago given up trying to clean in there because of the temper tantrum he would throw if even the slightest thing were misplaced.

"What is on your mind, ion-nin?" his father asked, catching his son's faraway gaze. Legolas merely shook his head and looked down at his hands.

"Nothing, Ada. I was just wondering what you were doing…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say. He hadn't come here for a reason, exactly. His father was always preoccupied with some thing or another… but he, Legolas, needed a comforting presence at the moment.

Thranduil leaned back in his chair and stretched his aching arms behind his back with an audible popping of joints. He sighed deeply and shook his right hand irritably which had cramped up with the long hours of writing. Once again, he cursed his brother-in-law's lack of cooperation with the paperwork. But, as had become irritatingly regular over the past few weeks, Ainan was nowhere to be seen- always claiming he had some important affair to keep an eye on. Whatever that was, Thranduil had not had the time to find out.

"Well, I was thinking that after a long day of work, I'd be able to sit down for a well-deserved dinner with my wife and son. How does that sound?" Legolas smiled slightly as his own stomach rumbled with hunger.

"Will you tell stories, Ada?" he asked eagerly. The King delighted in an audience and would usually, if the weather permitted, sit in the warm music hall and any who cared to listen would sit before the fire as their lord sovereign spun tales of the glory days long into the night. Those times were some of Legolas' fondest memories: lightly dozing in his mother's arms as he listened to the sounds of his father's deep tenor voice.

Thranduil smiled, delighted with his son's enthusiasm.

"If my time allows it, I certainly will." He stood and stretched again. "But what say you to dinner first?" To this, Legolas readily agreed and the two set off for the dining hall where Anariel met her husband and son with a kiss on their cheeks. Legolas walked between his father and mother as Ainan fell into step beside them, appearing silently and unexpectedly from out of the shadows. He greeted both monarchs graciously and with a slight smile to Legolas that sent an uncomfortable shiver down the boy's spine. But when questioned on where he had been, Ainan merely shrugged it away with a vague reply.

Any guests or those attending to the castle were invited to sit at the table- family, friends, guardsmen- all sat upon the long table extending through most of the dining hall. Legolas waved to his friends Lóthmir and Rinniad who sat beside their respective fathers in the guard and absently glanced at the green tapestries of old battles and feasts that draped the walls before his gaze returned to the head of the table.

Telas sat beside his son, Serkë, and they both inclined their heads to him as he took a seat beside his mother. The atmosphere was pleasantly relaxed and calm and Legolas breathed deeply for the first time in what felt like a long while. The painful anxiety in his stomach had evaporated as hunger took its place.

The servants soon set the board before them and Legolas hastily dug into the smoked venison and steaming vegetables placed before him. His gaze wandered down the length of the table as he ate to where four elves sat, chatting amiably amongst themselves. Haldir caught his eye and waved. The young prince smiled slightly and returned it.

A bejeweled hand dropped on his shoulder and Legolas shuddered inwardly as Ainan bent close so that his lips nearly brushed the young one's ear.

"I would speak with you after dinner, nephew." A warning squeeze, pressing on bruised flesh, and then he was gone.

His appetite thoroughly dissolved, Legolas pushed his plate away from him and slumped in his seat but he did not rise. Here, in the presence of his family at least, he was safe. He could sense Telas' eyes on him from across the hall, watching him like a hawk, but Legolas did not raise his gaze from the white tablecloth. Ainan's remonstrance from the day before stung still for the councilor's treachery had gotten him into terrible trouble after he had sworn he would not tell his uncle or father about his fight with Nárvenien some weeks before.

Inevitably, the servants swept the remains of the meal away and Thranduil rose, inviting all who wished to adjourn to the music hall for tales and songs. Many readily agreed and processed off towards the hall, following after the King arm in arm with his Queen. Legolas rose quickly to follow but a vise like hand descended on his shoulder and he froze.

"You are too old to listen to such stories, Legolas," Ainan chided lightly, his grip on the boy's shoulder tightening. He moved to steer the young prince away from the rapidly filling hall when a voice cut through the general confusion.

"Legolas! I would speak with you a moment!" Telas rose, calling after him. Ainan abruptly released him as the councilor accosted them. The young prince did not turn.

"I cannot stay, Telas." The councilor frowned.

"It should not take but a moment, my prince. I-"

"Why did you speak when you told me you would not?" Legolas asked softly, his gaze searching the other's. Telas frowned in confusion.

"I do not understand." Legolas sighed irritably.

"You said to me that you would not speak to my father of- of my fight with Nárvenien." Telas shook his head vehemently.

"I never said a word, Legolas." But the young prince would not hear it, his mind unwilling to absorb anything as he knew his uncle would be watching him from the shadows. Fear propelled him into haste and he darted down the hall before the councilor could question him further. A dark room at the end of the hall yawned on his left. He darted through the doorway, shrouded in darkness away from where the light sliced through a crack in the door.

He waited but he knew not for what. The corridor was silent around him and he backed slowly away from the door, exploring the room that he did not recognize in the dark. The tiny sliver of light illuminated the space directly in front of him. He pulled back with a strangled cry as familiar silver-blue eyes stared down at him. He threw the door open wide and stumbled out of it, striking against the far wall.

When Ainan did not appear from the doorway though; he paused. Slowly with shaking legs, he stepped forward and eased through the door again, his heart thumping in his chest. It was too dark to see

Legolas looked up and took a torch from the light limned corridor. Mustering his courage, he stepped into the room again, the torch raised before him.

It was a long, low-ceilinged room that Legolas had not known had been here which was odd because he thought he knew every part of the castle after having lived in it all of his life. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows dancing across the walls as Legolas looked around. Portraits adorned the walls; ones he had never seen before.

The room was ill-used and looked as though it had not been set foot in for ages. Dust lay thick upon the books nearly falling apart on their shelves. But the room was unfurnished save for the bookcase and a table upon which an old candelabrum rested draped with cobwebs and the candles long since dripped away. It was odd.

And yet the door had not been locked for Legolas had found easy passage through. He lifted his light a little, his gaze falling first on the leather bound book lying upon the worn wooden table that commanded the spot in the middle of the room. Puzzled and curious, Legolas lifted the cover and bent over the text, narrowing his eyes against the dim light in order to discern the slanted, spidery handwriting.

The page he had opened it to was dated two thousand years ago.

Father has agreed to send troops to strengthen Thranduil's army traveling to aid King Gil-galad. I fear they will not return- such a cause is doomed. How can they hope to fight the Dark Lord with Men- those craven who would run at the sight of any orc? Their kings are barbarians and will soon be swept away like so much dust on the wind. There is no hope for them. I myself have elected to remain behind to watch over my father's kingdom until he should return.

And if he should not…

However, I will not speak of such things until they are proven true. My sister is anxious for her wedding. Father certainly agrees that such an alliance will strengthen our kingdom. Ours, he says. I don't believe Oropher or Thranduil will easily release their holdings. Unless the war should prove ill.

The darkness is deepening in the mountains…

Legolas flipped ahead, skimming through the pages. He caught only snatches and glimpses of words.

Father dead… war…

…refugees…

Thranduil has claimed himself King of Mirkwood…

The next entry he found was dated almost four hundred years ago.

Tonight, the words read in the ancient Tengwar writing, I will not forget this- this insult! My hand is shaking almost too much to write. How dare he offer me such insult! Thranduil has overstepped his bounds for the last time. I will not be shunted aside so easily. Mirkwood belonged to my father! Not Thranduil! I was fortunate enough that at least Oropher perished in the Last Alliance. I was not so fortunate with his son.

I will leave tonight. I cannot stand staying here. My sister will remain- for one reason or another, she will not tell me why. But I will not forget this. Never.

Soon. I will get my revenge.

Soon.

Legolas flipped through the journal, a slow feeling of horror edging through his heart. This was his uncle's journal. But, what was it all about? He squinted against the dim light, narrowing his eyes at the last, blotted line on the last page.

Finally, I will get my revenge.

The journal ended there with nothing but blank pages to follow. Legolas pulled away, shaking his head slowly in confusion. Nothing made sense. Stretched out next to the journal beside an unlit lamp, was a map. Legolas leaned over it and realized with a slight shock that it was a map of the castle.

The barracks of the guard… the archery grounds… the practice fields and gardens and, of course, the grand palace itself- all in wondrous and perfect detail. There were also some hallways and passages that Legolas did not recognize- ones that led beneath even the lowest dungeons and wine cellars. He bent closer to it, curiosity and wonderment bubbling through him. He looked away from the map and raised the torch higher to peer at the portraits and gasped aloud in amazement, nearly dropping his light.

There were several portraits lining the wall across from the bookcase. The one before him was a thick, oil painting in exquisite artistry. This picture leaned against the far wall, nearly out of sight. The faces in this picture were unmistakable for they mirrored his own.

The portrait of a smiling Thranduil with Anariel wrapped in his arms, their golden hair entwining and the deep green and white betrothal robes contrasting one another was beautiful. He had never seen his mother so happy with a blue rose jewel resting against her heart and her eyes full of love and adoration.

However, Legolas squinted closer. His father looked… disfigured somehow- incomplete. Then he realized that a strip of dusty canvas had been torn from the picture and lay in a corner. Legolas bent and carefully picked it up, catching a glimpse of it before it crumbled in his hands.

His father's face.

Legolas felt a slight twinge of a feeling he could not recognize in his gut as he looked up at the other portrait hanging upon the wall.

Two figures stood in this one, captured in a perfect moment of time long ago. A rain-washed green garden, it looked like, though it was difficult to tell through the ravages time had wrought. But the faces…

Anariel smiled down at him, her blue eyes bright and shining- the artist had even captured the flowing gold of her hair lifting in an autumn breeze. She sat with her delicate white hands wrapped around a swing of laurel as she sat upon a small white wood seat. Behind her, stood Ainan.

Laughing silver-blue eyes sparkled with what Legolas supposed would have been joy had it been on any other face but his uncle's. It was nearly impossible to reconcile the happy, contented image of Ainan in the portrait with the embittered, violent one now. Legolas couldn't fathom it and didn't try to but he did wonder what had happened to turn his uncle from the smiling form in the picture into the monster now.

Speaking of which, he would be missed and sorely punished if he hid any longer. Legolas hurriedly turned and replaced his torch but the soft, subtle sound of elven footsteps reached his ears. Startled and frightened, Legolas retreated into the room, looking around for a place to hide. But there was none.

The footsteps sounded closer and closer and now, he could hear soft voices speaking in hushed whispers as though they did not want to be overheard. In desperation, Legolas jammed himself between the door and the wall as two figures swept into the room. The young prince bit his lip to keep a gasp of surprise from breaking past as he recognized his uncle's back.

Ainan paused in the doorway, his eyes sweeping the darkened room.

"I do not recall leaving the door open," he said quietly to his companion who wordlessly shook his head. He plucked the same torch that Legolas had taken and followed Ainan into the room. Legolas squeezed himself tighter into the shadows as they passed so closely by him, he could have reached out and touched them.

They stopped by the table upon which the map rested. If one of them so much as chanced to look up, they would see him. And one of them did. But not in his direction.

The dark-haired elf that had followed his uncle raised his head, his near black eyes wide in the flickering shadows of the torch that cast gaunt shadows across his face.

"The air reeks of fear," he said softly. Ainan smiled thinly at the other.

"Concern yourself with this now. Later… is the time for vengeance." Legolas could not understand these esoteric words but he knew that they portended something awful. He knew where the fear came from. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears, he was sure one of them would hear it. But the rapid beating of his heart was overridden by their words which, despite himself, Legolas leaned forward to catch.

"There is no time to explain in further detail now, but summon my captains this night. Here," Ainan indicated a point on the map. He chanced a glance towards the open door and Legolas tried to recede further into the shadows without moving. But the other elf had eyes only for intruders passing in the halls as he walked forward to shut the door.

The young prince scrunched himself into a small niche beside the bookcase, curling up in a corner where the dust was thick where he hoped his uncle would not see him. He closed his eyes to keep them from reflecting the light of the torch as the dark-haired elf swept past him too, his wide eyes still peering around at the dark corners. Legolas held his breath, knowing that at any moment one of them would spot him.

"I have an appointment to keep," Ainan said, almost lazily to the other elf. "You know what to do."

The dark elf bowed with his hand over his heart and took the torch from Ainan's hand. Legolas watched in amazement as he strode to the back of the room and slid the painting of Thranduil and Anariel aside to reveal a small finger-sized chink in the wall. With a sharp tug and a rumbling grating of stone on stone, a hidden panel slid open and the elf slipped through. Ainan closed it behind him and groped blindly in the pitch blackness that had fallen with the disappearance of the other elf.

Legolas could hear his uncle moving and leaned as far back into his dusty corner as he could as he felt an air current brush past his face and a sweep of velvet robes.

A mere splinter of light appeared and a sharp silhouette as Ainan slipped through the door and closed it behind him. The young prince stumbled up, knowing that if he was going to get out of here, he would have to time it precisely. Cautiously, he poked his head out of the door; his uncle was nowhere in sight.

Legolas darted around the door and bolted down the hall as fast as he dared, his heart hammering in his chest as he ran.

"Where have you been, tôrion?" Legolas tried to meet his uncle's eyes but could not. His gaze fell to the carpet beneath his boots as Ainan prowled around him like a hungry cat circling a bird it had cornered. The elf had appeared not a moment after Legolas entered his room and the young prince knew how disheveled he must look from having run all the way- his hair mussed and sweaty, breathing hard.

Legolas kept his gaze carefully straight ahead as his uncle passed his back he shivered, fighting the urge to turn and keep his eyes on the danger. Ahead of him, the slightest façade of study lay upon the table- an open book of languages that had not been read from in weeks. Ainan's 'training sessions' had long since turned to brutal punishment without cessation.

"You hid from me today, Legolas," Ainan said softly and the young prince cringed. But the older elf ignored him, a slight smile twisting his lips. "If you like to play hide and seek so much, I have a little game for you that we can play." Legolas felt icy-fingered hands of fear grope up his spine and he shivered.

"Khile nin, (Follow me)."

With leaden steps, Legolas followed dutifully after his uncle down the corridor. He tried to keep pace with the light, quick steps of the older elf but he soon found himself dropping back only to be wrenched forward again if he grew too far behind. He stared around at the halls in amazement. He had never even seen some of the corridors they passed through. This was truly an older part of the palace and not oft-used for the torches were unlit and darkened. Legolas shivered as he felt the dampness against his skin.

"Where are we going, Vedhir?" he ventured to ask when it seemed that they had walked for an interminable time. Predictably though, he received no answer- but also no curbing cuff so the prince followed, slight curious but far more fearful.

Finally, they stopped in a hallway, darker than any Legolas had yet seen though lit torches sputtered several yards away down a converging corridor leading to the more habitable parts of the palace. They must be in the very bowels of the palace underneath the stream for the low roof, nearly lost in the clinging shadows above was wet and damp with moisture.

A soft grating of stone on stone distracted the prince from his examination and he looked sharply at his uncle.

Ainan had somehow found a chink in the stone and forced it open at least a foot wide revealing a yawning blackness that seemed to be a small room of some sort. Once a storage room during more dangerous times, it made an effective prison now.

"You wished to play hide-and-seek, Legolas," Ainan said quietly, a terrible gleam in his eyes that seemed to absorb the scant torchlight rather than reflect it. "I guarantee you: no one will ever find you here." Legolas quailed in fear, unwilling to enter and unable to move.

"You wanted to hide, Legolas," Ainan said softly, dangerously. His eyes seemed to laugh as though daring the prince to disobey him.

Slowly, with terror singing through his every nerve, Legolas took a painstaking step forward and then another. He squeezed through the tiny opening, feeling a wave of claustrophobia hit him in the sudden utter blackness that pressed upon his eyes. He felt the back wall under his searching hands fairly soon and turned to his see his uncle as a dim silhouette in the small hole in the wall.

"If you so much as sniffle, I will hear." Legolas merely nodded dumbly, his eyes wide with fear as the passageway slid closed with a thud in front of him, leaving him entrenched in darkness.

Trammeled. A cage. The darkness pressed upon his eyes like a physical weight and no matter how much he opened or closed them it was always the same.

Darkness.

Legolas trembled from far more than the cold stone under his knees where he had not moved since his uncle had shut the panel. The moldy smell of old stone filled his nostrils and the dampness soaked through his trousers. He closed his eyes again, wishing himself away from this wretched darkness and silence that pressed upon his ears. He pictured his friends laughing and joking with him- as they had that very afternoon which already seemed a part of another life altogether.

But the cheerful image quickly faded as hunger seized his stomach and he opened his eyes again, rubbing the offending spot consolingly. He did not think he would eat tonight after his interrupted supper. But he was too afraid that his uncle waited on the other side of that door, waiting for him, to even think about trying to sneak out in search of food; he wasn't even sure if his uncle would return to free him. Maybe he was to stay down here until he died of starvation or the silence and eternal lightlessness drove him mad! He did not know how long he had been here but it seemed an inexorably long time and he felt certain that he would go mad if he was not freed soon.

Still, he jumped, startled when the panel suddenly slid open. Legolas fell from the alcove, trembling and blinded by the bright light of the flickering torches that pierced his eyes after so long a time in the dark. He looked slowly up at his uncle's face as Ainan glared down at him.

"Do you feel you have been sufficiently punished, Legolas?" The young prince, shaken with horror and fear, nodded, his nose nearly touching the flagstones.

"Yes, sir."

"Will you hide from me again?" Legolas shook his head.

"No, Vedhir." Ainan nodded in curt satisfaction as he motioned the trembling child to his feet. The older elf jerked his head towards the lit corridor. With a light cuff to the back of the prince's head, Ainan smiled almost benignly.

"Go on now, little prince. Your father's punishment is waiting." Legolas, shuddering with pain and fear, forced his legs to hold him, his face screwed up against the misery fighting to free itself from his very soul.

"Oh, and Legolas-" Ainan could almost see the shudder that ran down the younger elf's spine at the sound of his own name. "Don't be late again." Legolas bowed again and hastily retreated. Ainan grinned privately, releasing a soundless chuckle as his nephew disappeared down the corridor.

He slipped down the serpentine ways that only he knew and emerged in the prince's room, eyeing the mess on the floor of the bedroom. He quickly gathered up the bloodstained clothes- a white linen tunic this time. With a remorseless shrug, he tossed it into the fire, watching it being eaten by the flames. If the maids wondered what happened to some of Legolas' clothes, they said nothing. And the smell abated within a few hours if the windows were left open.

Why would his uncle treat him like this? How could he? Did his father and mother not notice? Did they not care? It was not enough that his uncle beat him, now his father was to punish him too? Legolas' mind burned with these questions as he walked. But his angry thoughts faded as he looked out, catching a glimpse of the dark blue sky through the narrow arrow slit in the stone. He had been late to his lessons today… and he had fought with Nárvenien. There were many little things- innocent things- but large and grievous to the child's mind. He had wronged them all.

Yes, he decided at last, my uncle wouldn't hurt me unless I did something to deserve it, Legolas thought glumly.

But he knew, buried deep within his heart where he could not see it, that it was a lie.

Chapter Text

Sun

Legolas slept uneasily, tossing and turning in his dreams. Abruptly, he awoke with a thud and realized blearily that he had fallen out of his chair. Wondering what had awoken him, he groaned and dug his fists into his eyes to rub the sleep from them. He blinked and glanced around his room, his heart pounding in the darkness and silence. He shakily got to his feet, wincing as his legs and back creaked in complaint from the long hours spent in such a cramped position.

The darkness loomed before him, pressing upon his eyes. Even the comforting fire in the hearth had faded to cold ashes long ago. With hands trembling slightly, Legolas turned up the lantern that rested on his bedside table and raised it, the golden light washing over his pale face and sparkling in his blue eyes.

His room was empty and still. His cloak lay draped over the back of his chair and his long-untouched books still lay on the table. He swallowed hard and tried not to jump as he turned towards the window and heard the trees scraping against the glass. He shivered then, his eyes widened and he leapt back, scarcely suppressing a cry of terror.

Eyes.

Eyes were staring at him from out of the darkness of the corner but before the prince could master himself and peer closer, they blinked and were gone into the shadows. Legolas fumbled for his bow but it was too clumsy to wield one-handed and he would either have to set down his light or approach weaponless. He opted for the former and set the lantern carefully on the table where it would light the corners of his room and gripped his bow and a green-feathered arrow in his hands.

The window was latched tight though and there was nothing outside- save for the tormented trees swaying in the wind that howled through the chinks in the stone. Legolas looked around quickly but there was nothing- no shadow could hide in his room illuminated as it was by the lantern, however faintly.

But Legolas could have sworn he had seen those eyes inside his room.

A small corner of the garden was devoted to a shady elm tree beneath which white snow flowers bloomed, ankle high. A rippling stream splashed into a shallow stone basin, carved from the living stone. It did not snow near the elven palace though in the darker parts of the forest, snow would lay deep by now. The thin sunlight filtered down through the bare branches but the wind stole away its warmth, chill and biting this morning as it tossed golden tresses across the young face.

Legolas peered into the deep pool, the water inconstantly reflecting his ghostly image as he watched the water fall softly, trickling and burbling into the small pond. He tried not to think of anything in particular- just the clear, streaming water and the soft murmur of the ripples.

He should have been at his lessons but he pushed such thoughts aside. What good did his lessons do him? They did not distract him from his pain or his thoughts and they did not prevent his uncle from punishing him for one reason or another. It was useless… And he was so tired, having been unable to get back to sleep last nightSo he watched thecrystalline water and allowed his thoughts to be carried along with the ripples and cluttered leaves.

Unbidden, his mind whirled with what had occurred last night. He shivered and looked up at the sun as though to reassure himself of the bright light that chased away the dark shadows. He did not understand what he had seen in that portrait room… his uncle's words he had seen in the journal reverberated through his head ceaselessly no matter how hard he tried to block them out.

Finally I will have my revenge.

Something was very wrong and Legolas knew he should tell his father of what he had seen but he felt far too shaken right now to actually confront his father. His uncle would be terribly angry if he found out…

He sensed more than heard the presence of another and looked up sharply.

Haldir stared down at him, a small frown on his fair face as he cocked his head slightly, scrutinizing the young prince, noting the shadows beneath his eyes, the troubled line between the young elf's brows.

"Are you all right?" The young prince looked away with a vague reply.

"I'm fine." He had forgotten to meet the older elf that morning for their usual bout of sparring and Haldir had come looking for him. The elf captain let the matter drop however and glanced up at the clear sky overhead.

"What say you to a ride this afternoon?" he asked, still staring up at the cloudless sky and white sun. Legolas glanced at Haldir uneasily.

"I don't know… I have lessons… do you not have business to attend to with my father?" Haldir glanced at Ancadal who stood impatiently in the dim entrance to the gardens, awaiting his commander. The older elf motioned him over and he came, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Tell Cálivien to handle the negotiations today, Ancadal," Haldir instructed. "I have business elsewhere- he'll understand." Nonplussed, the younger elf merely nodded. Legolas raised his eyebrows in astonishment, unable to believe that the serious elf could shirk his duties so easily.

"What say you now, Legolas? Would you like to have some fun today?" The young prince still looked unsure. Haldir smiled slightly, his hand extended in invitation.

"If you do not wish to, I'll understand. I would not otherwise-" Haldir said softly, looking into his young friend's shadowed eyes. "But something tells me that today, I have need of it." And so do you. The unspoken words hung on the air, unvoiced. Legolas nodded slowly- he could use a good laugh, some time away from his heavy cares.

"All right," he said finally, a small smile brightening his fair features. "Let's go!"

The two marched to the stables and rode along one of the winding forest paths beneath an arch of interlacing branches and wavering sunlight.

"So, where would you like to go?" Haldir asked, reining his bay horse astride the prince's white mare. "Anywhere outside the palace- within reason of course." Legolas found himself smiling.

"Outside of the palace…" he mused, a playful smile lit his face. "I'll race you there!" With that, he nudged his horse into a gallop, laughing as he felt the wind in his hair for what felt like the first time in a very long time.

"My brothers and I would go fishing out on the banks of the Nimrodel in the summer," Haldir said, balancing carefully on a rock in midstream as he stared down at the glittering silvery fish darting in a small eddy. He smiled in fond memory.

"My younger brother, Rúmil, attempted to catch a silverfish- notoriously difficult to catch, you understand." Legolas nodded, a small smile lifting his features as he gazed around at the trees, shapely in their nakedness, to the thundering waterfall several yards away. It was a beautiful place and Legolas' haven from the palace where he and his friends had often swam in what seemed a lifetime ago.

"Well," Haldir continued, hopping lightly from one stepping stone to another across the river and back again. "He thrust a hand in after this monster of a fish. The thing leapt out of the water and startled him so badly he fell into the river…. Sopping wet and crosser than a hungry warg- we haven't let him forget it yet."

He faltered on the last rock, laughing, and quickly threw himself forward, still managing to land gracefully in the shallows, soaking his boots up to the ankles in the frigid water. Unable to contain his laughter, Legolas burst out into ringing mirth. The indignant, mock-glare from his companion doubled him over as he reclined against the wind-chilled rocks.

"Shh," Haldir cautioned him quietly, bending over slightly. Legolas stiffened, his laughter abruptly stilled.

"What is it?"

Haldir crouched beside the bole of a tree which the rocks sprawled against, creating a low overhang.

"Look at this," he said softly and the young prince came over and knelt beside him, peering into the little hole.

Bright eyes peered back at them from the darkness. Three little fox kits shifted slightly, startled by the appearance of these strangers. Haldir smiled as he reached slowly in and stroked the baby soft fur. The little creature nudged his hand, comforted by the presence of the elf. He carefully pulled one out and placed it in Legolas' lap who patted the kit delightedly.

Haldir's eyes lingered past the prince and he smiled gently, nodding his head. Legolas turned and met the cautious, amber gaze of the vixen, staring at them from the cover of the brake and moss-draped branches. The young prince slowly replaced the little kit and backed respectfully away.

"Come on," Legolas whispered, beckoning the other elf towards him. "I want to show you something." Willingly, Haldir followed, glad to see a spark of life return to those blue eyes. The prince led him across a narrow makeshift bridge of stepping stones spaced unevenly out into the middle of the river. The waterfall splashed along a rolling passageway embedded in the very rocks before thundering into a roiling, churning foam at their feet.

"It's a little cold," the young prince warned before leaping through. Haldir followed. The water pressed briefly on his shoulders before he realized that he stood in a narrow niche in the rock, crouching to keep from hitting his head on the low ceiling.

Legolas faced him a few paces away, almost kneeling in the ankle-deep water. Shaking the silver beads from his face and hair, he rose slightly, balancing on the slippery rocks. Rivulets of water cascaded down the sides of the small cut cave and washed over his hands as he led the way in deeper. Haldir looked around in wonder and amazement. It was not unlike the palace as it may once have been- uncut and unpolished but breathtaking in its natural beauty- the glimmering walls that seemed to flicker and reflect any small point of light that pierced through overhead through small pinpricks through which water poured.

They stepped carefully on the stones that were not completely submerged in the icy water and at last the cave opened up before them at least to a bigger space than had been previously. The two elves were able to straighten and look around. Legolas touched the elder elf's sleeve and pointed upwards. Haldir followed his indication and his mouth dropped open in amazement.

The walls of the cavern glimmered with every color of the rainbow in an ever-shifting spiral. The red of coral reefs, the deepest blue of the darkest sea and the stunning green of a forest day beneath the trees. They wove and danced, entwining with each other as they moved about the chamber, shifting in an ever wheeling cadence that only the colors seemed to understand.

Directly before them was a small pool though very deep as he peered into it and could not define the dark bottom, disappearing into blackness.

"This is amazing," Haldir whispered, afraid to break the almost sacred silence that seemed to hug the very chamber. He peered into the pool with wonder.

"My mother brought me here once, a long time ago. She said if I looked carefully, I could see the bright stars of Elbereth glimmering there like diamonds," Legolas said quietly. He bent over the pool and shook his head slowly.

"But I don't see them now." Haldir glanced at him, bending over the pool himself.

A myriad of tiny pinpricks peppered the surface, glittering there as innocently as any star. Haldir sighed, his innate love of beauty welling within him.

"Worthy of the beauty of the Silmarils," he said softly.

"It is said that the water has healing powers and can ease the suffering of the soul if needed," the prince said quietly, sounding suddenly old before his years. Haldir regarded him, puzzled by the unusually troubled look on his young friend's face.

Gently, he placed a hand on his shoulder, removing it as Legolas pulled back slightly as though startled. Haldir did not reach for him again but instead pointed wordlessly across the pool where something glimmered in the shadows.

"Luin Sarn- the Blue Stone," Legolas quickly explained, slightly embarrassed at his skittish behavior; his eyes reflected the myriad of blue hues, splintering them into a thousand shimmering azure pieces. Aquamarine, topaz and deep royal blue sparked in his eyes as he turned his head towards the beautiful jewel nestled in the rock.

"My mother told me, it protects Mirkwood," he said softly. The prince looked up at him with an expression unreadable but a small smile edged across his face. Haldir smiled back but he glanced upwards as the shadows suddenly encroached around them, wrapping them in their dark embrace.

"We should go," he said quietly.

The sun was falling swiftly and it was already dim beneath the trees. Haldir looked up at the failing sun and untethered the horses from where they lay contentedly on the still warm grass beside the river.

"Come, Legolas. You will be missed- as will I." Haldir smiled wryly, thinking on the harangue he was likely to receive from Cálivien when he returned so late. The young prince straightened, stretching arms and legs stiff from sitting crouched for so long. He paused as a sharp glint caught his eyes. Haldir followed his gaze.

Their earlier merriment abruptly vanished as they peered across the river. It was almost too dark to see but their elven eyes gazed across the river, narrowed against the night. Something shadowy shifted under the dark trees. Haldir rose slowly to his full height and squinted across the river, glimmering in the inconstant light of the clouded moon.

Starlight lingered on pale skin, creating a disconcerting sense of disembodiment. Dark eyes watched them from across the river but it was impossible to tell who or what it was for the deep night under the trees hindered their vision without the moon.

Without a sound, it glissaded away into nothingness.

"Haldir, what was that?" Legolas asked softly, his blue eyes wide as the starlight shimmered in them. The older elf shook his head.

"I don't know."

Haldir's eyes whipped around to face the dark trees behind them as a low growl pierced the silence of the night. Even the wind was still and a bone-chilling howl suddenly rent the air, terribly close.

Being so near to the palace, Legolas had not brought his bow though Haldir, as always, carried his saber with him. He unsheathed it now, a glimmer in his dark eyes as they pierced the night beneath the trees and discerned the glimmer of sharp slitted eyes peering back at him from the brake.

"Legolas," he said softly, a note of urgency in his voice. "-climb the nearest tree you can get to. And stay there."

"What about you?" the prince asked, eyeing the saber in the older elf's hand.

"Do it!" Haldir commanded sternly, all traces of earlier merriment and laughter gone from his face. Swiftly, he drew a knife from his sheath and pressed it into the younger elf's hand.

"I hope those hours of sparring lessons stuck," he said quietly. Then he was gone with a whirling of his cloak. The young prince quickly clambered up onto the rocky overhang, brandishing the knife before him.

His heart pounded in his breast and he swallowed against the dryness in his throat. Fear spiked through him as he shot a glance over his shoulder and discerned the gleam of yellow eyes, ever-shifting and multiplying as the wolves inched closer. The knife felt strange and unfamiliar in his hand. He looked down at it.

The blade was curved slightly and the razor edge glittered in the moonlight stabbing starkly down through the bare branches of the trees. He inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm his trembling nerves. He had fought wolves before certainly but not like this. Not in the night. Not alone. But, he was not alone… His gaze returned to his companion who stood alert and watchful near the river, his head raised to the moon, every muscle in his body tense and ready.

With a low growl, one of the wolves exploded out of the brush and lunged at Haldir with fangs bared and glistening. The elf swung his saber around in a swift circle and deftly cleaved the wolf's head from its body. Others quickly sprang forward, scenting the anticipation of a kill. Their terrifying snarls were the only sounds breaking the silent night aside from the hiss and thud of steel piercing furry bodies.

"Haldir, look out!" Legolas shouted in warning as the large chieftain circled around behind the other elf, his hind legs bunched for a spring that would bring his teeth within reach of the elf's throat.

Haldir spun around and caught the wolf in the chest but the beast's weight bore him to the ground and in that moment, they were upon him. Legolas leapt forward with the knife clenched in his fist. He drove it down like a nail into the back of one of the wolves who howled in agony before dropping dead upon the leaves. Haldir struggled to his feet, flinching in pain. A wolf had torn his shoulder open with its fangs and already hot blood stained his grey tunic.

Aching muscles hefted the saber in his hand as he drove the length of it into another wolf body that snapped once at him as scarlet blood gushed from the wound in its chest before it slid heavily to the ground. Haldir's stormy eyes caught Legolas' frightened blue ones and he nodded once, falling into place at the prince's back. The wolves backed away, their tongues lolling out of their mouths and their gleaming eyes fixed upon their prey.

Powerful jaws split into wide grins and a rallying howl rent the air.

The signal of attack.

As though from far away, Legolas heard his horse scream and saw her paw the air wildly as she thumped down onto the body of a wolf beneath her hooves then twisted sideways as another tried to leap onto her back.

An elbow to his ribs caused him to stagger sideways as a wolf lunged at him. Legolas felt the brush of hot, smelly breath on his face and then a dying howl screamed so loudly in his ears, he thought his head would burst. He staggered to his feet with his ears ringing and quickly thrust at the next beast that tried to leap at him.

The knife was nearly wrenched from his hand as the wolf fell with a strangled yelp.

The wolves were slowly being beaten back, their numbers falling to the blades and hooves of their prey. With their tails tucked between their legs, the wolves fled into the mists of the night until even their mournful calls were lost in darkness.

"Are you all right?" Haldir asked sharply, his breathing ragged as he wiped his blade on his cloak. Legolas nodded shakily, releasing a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding as he glanced up half in awe, half in fear at the older elf. His blue eyes narrowed as he spied the dark patch spreading slowly over the older elf's tunic.

"You're-"

"Come on," Haldir said shortly, retrieving the bridle of his restive steed. Legolas quickly checked his mare over who seemed eager to take on more of the wolves. Patting her neck, he swung up into the saddle, glancing over his shoulder uneasily as they sped away on the hard-packed earth leading back towards the elven palace.

Chapter Text

Night had well and truly fallen by the time they rode back into the palace. Both Haldir and Legolas hurried across the bridge as the doors of the stone gate clanged to behind them. The young prince stood in the Great Hall, his mind churning with what he had just witnessed. He looked up at the elf beside him and smiled slightly, suddenly shy and unsure of what to say. He swallowed and unstuck his shocked vocal chords.

"Thank you." The older elf bowed his head with a smile which quickly turned to an abashed one as his gaze caught the eye of Cálivien standing in the shadows with his arms crossed. The silver-haired elf walked with slow deliberateness towards them and the other two elves twitched uncomfortably at the expression on his face. Haldir would almost rather have faced the wolves again.

"Where have you been?" Cálivien asked, his eyes flashing. "You were sent here to-" He stopped mid-harangue as he caught sight of the red stain spreading across his friend's sleeve.

"What happened to you?" he demanded.

Haldir managed only a deep sigh and a wince as he glanced sheepishly down at Legolas. Feeling the ground jolt sickeningly underneath his feet, he swayed heavily, catching onto the first thing he could seize to keep his balance which happened to be Legolas' shoulder.

The young prince glanced up in sudden alarm as he noticed that the older elf's entire sleeve was soaked with blood now- he had not detected it in the darkness but could see it clearly now in the light of the torches. He thought it had been like Lóthmir's wound- superficial at most.

Cálivien immediately seized his friend's uninjured arm, concern breaking through the irritation on his handsome features.

"Come on," he said shortly. He shot a glance down at the young elf who stood undecided and anxious.

"Go on, ernil neth (young prince)," the silver-haired elf reassured him with a smile. "He'll be all right- we'll see you tomorrow."

Legolas could only nod as Cálivien led Haldir away. His brow furrowed in consternation as he walked slowly back across the Great Hall towards his chambers. He suddenly realized that he still held Haldir's bloody knife in his hand and hastily wiped it on his tunic and sheathed it in his belt. Not quite sure what he should do with it, he resolved to return it to the other elf tomorrow.

All of a moment, he remembered that he would most likely be in trouble with his father for skipping his lessons and not telling anyone where he was going the entire day. He had broken his father's rule too- he had been much further outside the palace than he had been allowed. But, he had also been with Haldir and, perhaps, Thranduil would not punish him for that- if he didn't tell him about the wolves they'd run into. Thinking of his father reminded Legolas that he ought to tell him about what he had heard and seen last night and he, forcing back his fear of punishment, hurried down the corridor.

The young prince walked determinedly along the hallway in search of his father and glanced into a small meeting chamber with high bay windows. He stopped abruptly as tense as a rabbit that had scented the hounds.

Ainan stood with his back to the prince, staring out the darkened windows with his hands clasped in a thoughtful posture behind his back.

The prince moved backwards slowly, praying to edge out without being noticed.

It was not to be.

"Legolas, a word," his uncle entreated without turning. Legolas kept his face carefully blank though disappointment and sudden fear spread slowly through him as well as puzzlement. His uncle confused him at the best of times and Legolas wondered what he had in store for him now.

"A dangerous company, the Lórien elves," Ainan remarked softly without preamble. Hesitatingly, Legolas shot a glance up at his uncle, staring out the window and wondered if he knew of the prince's afternoon with Haldir. But seeing that the older elf seemed rather pensive and more inclined towards talk than punishment tonight, Legolas answered.

"Dangerous, Vedhir?" Ainan sighed deeply as though he thought his nephew simple.

"Their Queen is wicked," he explained. "So very beautiful- but so very terrible. A Noldorin Lady of great power, a Kinslayer of long ago." Legolas sucked in a sharp breath of surprise; he had not known any yet still lived on these shores. "Those who travel to her sorcerous lands do not return unscathed, if they escape at all." Legolas frowned, wondering if such a thing were true.

"Father said they were on a diplomatic mission," Legolas declared faithfully.

"Don't be a fool!" Ainan scoffed scornfully. "They seek an audience with your father- not to treaty with him but to ascertain the best method to get him out of the way."

"Power is an intoxicating and glorious tool, Legolas," Ainan said quietly, his silver-blue eyes flickering red as he lit a torch standing in a bracket beside him to irradiate the dark emptiness around them. "And some will do anything to seize it." The young prince did not see the gleam in his uncle's eyes as he spoke.

"Why else would an elite guard of Lothórien spend his time walking in the gardens with a worthless whelp like you? Power." Legolas wondered what that meant but he was relieved that his uncle apparently had no reason to punish him today. He looked up as Ainan continued.

"Be careful of such ones, Legolas, for your deadliest enemies are most often those in the guise of a friend." Legolas remembered the steely look on Haldir's face and the deadly precision with which he had cut down the wolves. How much did he really know about his friend? Legolas bit his lip, trying not to let his uncle's honeyed words influence him. But then those silver-blue eyes locked onto his and Legolas hastily looked at the ground as Ainan spoke again.

"That elf- from Lothlórien. Stay far away from him, nephew mine." He gave Legolas' arm a painful tweak. "He will only get you into trouble." Legolas nodded weakly, his eyes watering from the pressure his uncle was placing on his arm.

"Why, Vedhir?" Ainan suddenly struck him across the face with supreme indifference. Legolas' head snapped to one side and he felt tears unwillingly fill his eyes from the pain.

"Do not question me, boy!" Ainan hissed, his hand still raised all pretenses of affability shredded. His eyes narrowed and he darted forward, seizing the young prince by the upper arms and jerking him up almost on his tiptoes.

"Look at me," he commanded. Legolas tried but was too afraid. His uncle shook him like a rag doll. "Look at me, Legolas!" The young prince looked straight up into the older elf's burning eyes, ashamed of the tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Tears, little prince?" Ainan laughed scornfully as he threw the young boy away from him. Legolas stumbled and collapsed against the armchair, wiping frantically at his eyes as he struggled to calm his breathing. His heaving breaths caught around a sob in his throat and he choked. Ainan watched calmly, his eyes slowly darkening with a vengeful flame the prince knew all too well.

Something had set his uncle off. And now his nephew would pay for it in his own blood and tears. In two strides, the older elf had crossed the room and seized the younger elf by the collar, wrenching him around to face him.

"I thought I told you tears were for weaklings, Legolas. I thought I taught you better than that. Perhaps not…"

"Vedhir," Legolas entreated. "I-" But, Ainan wasn't listening to him- he never listened to him. Not when Legolas pleaded or cried though he would strike the poor boy harder if he did. Ainan didn't care.

A sharp rap on the door startled both of them and Ainan looked up sharply.

The door creaked and Ainan released Legolas so quickly that the prince staggered backwards, striking the small of his back on a corner of the wooden table in the middle of the room. He rubbed the sore spot as Telas peered in. The advisor stopped short as he saw Ainan. The Regent raised an eyebrow bad-temperedly and slanted a quick look sideways at Legolas who hastily smoothed his hair back and wiped his face free of tears.

"Well, what is it, councilor?" Thranduil's advisor straightened and met the other elf's irritated gaze squarely.

"The King Thranduil wishes to speak to his son, hir-nin (my lord). I was sent to fetch him." Ainan's eyes narrowed slightly but he nodded down at the prince and gestured towards the door with a false smile on his narrow face.

"Very well. Legolas. We shall continue our lessons then later. We cannot keep the King waiting can we?" He smiled with deliberate contumely. "Do not forget you are due in the cellars tomorrow night." Telas frowned from the doorway as Legolas paused a moment then, at Telas' urging, allowed himself to be ushered out the door, puzzled but relieved.

"What does my father want to speak to me about, Telas?" Legolas asked, bemused by the older elf's nervousness.

"That was a mere ruse, Legolas," Telas said softly, glancing over his shoulder. But the halls around them were empty. The usually stuffy elf looked oddly grave as he turned to the young prince, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Is… is there anything… you want to tell me, Legolas?" Legolas felt his heart clench suddenly. Did Telas suspect…? He glanced up at his father's councilor.

Part of him longed to tell- to have this terrible burden lifted from his young shoulders. It was a weight he was loath to bear any longer. But, his fear returned with his anxiety of what might happen if he opened his mouth after his uncle had frightened and intimidated him into silence so many times before. He had been warned of the consequences of revealing his secret to anyone.

"No," he said at last. "There is nothing, Telas." The older elf seemed somewhat disappointed but he nodded slowly.

"All right," he said quietly. "Go on and play, Legolas. I-I shall see you later." The young prince nodded mutely, not seeing the concerned look the councilor gave him as he disappeared around the corner.

But Telas mentioning his father reminded Legolas that he did in fact need to speak with him so he hurried to the King's study. He peered in to see Thranduil perusing a thick tome. The young prince started to speak but closed it at the last moment as fear shut his mouth.

His father had company. Sitting in a high-backed chair across from the King's desk was a tall, stately elven woman of inexpressible beauty. Her long river of dark hair fell to her narrow waist and her blue velvet robes shone with mithril stars cleverly entwined with the fabric so that every time she moved, she sparkled like the firmament on a clear night. Her voice was low and rich, a smooth, velvety tone worthy of high elves. Legolas paused diffidently as the woman's eyes swung to pierce his as though she had known him to be there all along.

Thranduil noted his guest's preoccupation and turned to his son.

"What is it, ion-nin (my son)?" the King asked. Legolas remained in the doorway, his eyes flickering from his father to the stately woman in the winged chair. He recognized Nárvenien's mother though not by name for she had the same almond shaped bright green eyes of her daughter.

And the same malevolent stare.

Legolas swallowed, feeling suddenly awkward and uneasy under those eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ada. I thought you were alone, I-"

But Thranduil beckoned his son in.

"Just a moment, Eraeriel," he said to the woman as he turned to his son. He leaned in close.

"What is it, Legolas?" The prince spoke in a low voice as though he didn't want the woman to overhear.

"What is that room off the great hall for, Ada- the dark one with all the dust and spider webs?" he forced out at last from a suddenly parched throat. Thranduil frowned in puzzlement.

"What door is this, ion-nin?"

"The door off the eastern end of the Great Hall- it is very small and low-ceilinged. There are many portraits in it."

"Portraits?" Thranduil shook his head, a slight smile lifting his lips as though he thought his son was pulling his leg. "Really, Legolas I have not time for such games, now. I'm rather occupied at the moment. I shall speak to you at dinner."

"Ada- I just- it was there and I didn't remember ever seeing it before. There were all of these things in it," the young prince blurted out, wanting to make his father believe him.

"Surely the King has more pressing matters to deal with than mystical doors," Eraeriel interjected with a smile. Legolas glanced at her uneasily, swiftly hiding the rush of anger he felt for the woman though his ear tips burned red.

Thranduil was rapidly losing his patience.

"My son," he said sternly. "This is not a time for games. I am in the middle of-"

It was unwise to interrupt the King but Legolas did.

"I'm not lying, Ada!" he burst out angrily. "I know what I saw!"

"Enough!" The King snapped and Legolas fell silent. Eraerial smiled as though she knew something he did not.

"I shall speak to you of this later, Legolas. Go. Now." Thranduil commanded dismissively, waving towards the door. His voice brooked for no argument. Bowing stiffly with clenched teeth, Legolas spun on his heel and disappeared out the door. Thranduil realized, perhaps, that he might have been too brusque and his face softened in apology. He half-rose to call his son back and he glanced out into the corridor but Legolas had vanished as quickly as the light of a snuffed candle.

"Children," Legolas heard Eraeriel murmur laughingly as he slipped down the passageway, burning with humiliation and shame. He should never have said anything! Now his father thought him a fool!

But, Legolas paced quickly down the hall. He knew that door was there even if others would not believe him and he leapt nimbly down the long, marble stairs, determined to prove to his father that he was not lying. He trotted swiftly through the vast pillared columns of the Great Hall and out the eastern door he had left the night of the feast. He stopped before the place he had thought he had seen the door last and frowned deeply as he ran his hands over the smooth stone.

The door was gone as though it had never been.

He frowned in puzzlement and his ears pricked up as he heard a voice speaking softly, almost tearfully but Legolas was too far away to hear the words. He followed the sound of the voices and stopped before a great oaken door that led into the library not far from the hidden door. He tried the handle but, oddly enough, it was locked.

That was unusual.

The library was never locked.

Wondering if he was going against his better judgment, he pressed his ear to the door and listened. Legolas could hear his mother's voice inside and peered through the slit in the door. The prince recoiled as he recognized his uncle's slender frame within. I should not stay, he thought already walking away from the door but hearing his own name within made him stop and turn, pressing his eye to the small crack again. The voices were muffled through the thick wood but clear to the young elf's keen ears.

"Legolas has been missing his lessons. I worry for him," Anariel said softly as she cradled her elbows in her cupped hands. Ainan merely shook his head, his angular face half-shadowed in the dim light cast by the lantern on the table.

"He is young, Anariel. He does not understand the need for a strict schedule," he

said smoothly. The Queen nodded.

"I suppose you're right. I just wish Thranduil would-" Legolas saw his uncle's face tighten at the mention of his father's name.

"The punishment is fit for the little prince," Ainan interrupted. "He needs to know that the entire world does not revolve around him and he is expected to conduct himself as royalty should- not to go gallivanting in the forest and wrestling with females. You coddle him too much, sister. Legolas must grow up and learn that there are responsibilities to be being a prince." Anariel looked up at her brother, knowing he was right. Her suspicions had softened over the years that her brother had been here but her worry remained as she thought of her little son and how thin and quiet he had become.

Legolas hung his head, feeling guilty that he had made his mother worry about him. If only he had obeyed his uncle perhaps he would have made it to his lessons on time. But did his mother know how his uncle treated him?

'The punishment is fit…' Maybe his uncle had even been given permission to beat him! Perhaps, his parents were so disappointed- they wanted… Legolas mercifully ended that train of thought with a shake of his head. It couldn't be… The prince froze as the voices grew suddenly louder.

"Open your eyes, Anariel!"

Legolas shot a quick glance up and down the hall to make sure no one was within earshot. But the halls around him were empty and silent as he pressed his eye to the keyhole. He had missed the last comment from his mother but it seemed to have angered his uncle.

"Your dearly devoted husband is up to his neck in trouble- you know that," Ainan asserted softly.

"And you do not help matters!" his sister retorted sharply. Ainan continued as though he had not heard her.

"He does not care what happens to Legolas- so concerned is he with his beloved realm that is falling apart under his very nose. And yet, he is still too blind to see it." Legolas pressed his ear even closer to the door, struggling to hear every word.

"That is not true." His mother's voice grew quietly furious. "You know that is not true. Thranduil loves Legolas dearly and has ruled his kingdom for well over two and a half thousand years."

"His kingdom," Ainan echoed softly, dangerously.

"Yes, his-" Anariel paused suddenly and Legolas listened in breathless fear and anticipation. Ainan's voice slid through the cracks in the door like oil, slippery and foul, unmasked contempt dripping in his tone.

"But of course, Anariel. You were always blind to what happened behind closed doors." Their voices fell into hissing whispers that even Legolas' keen ears could not catch and he heard nothing more for several long moments.

"Why do you speak of this now?" He heard his mother gasp. Legolas could almost imagine his uncle waving his hand to dismiss the subject- as he had seen his mother do when she did not wish to discuss some hard truth further.

Another silence.

Legolas thought he heard a noise from within but missed the softly spoken words until his mother's voice rose again in an emotional lilt that did not sound like her at all.

"If you were half the king Father-"

The sharp slap of flesh striking flesh made Legolas jump and his face whitened as he slid down the door to sprawl at its foot, his knees tucked up to his chin as though he were the one who had been struck. His mother suffered under his uncle's hand too?

Anariel made no sound.

"I will not be spoken to like that," Ainan said, his voice deceptively calm. "You know better, little sister. The lessons I taught you when we were in youth should have sufficed to remind you of that." Legolas leaned against the door, straining to hear his mother's reply.

But none came.

"I will need the library to myself tonight- none others are to enter," Ainan's voice came again- closer now than before as though he were heading towards the door. "Even you, little sister." Legolas panicked as he heard a key insert itself into the lock and the door opened a crack to reveal his uncle's back as he stared back into the library.

"Royalty before family, muinthel (sister)?" He laughed when no reply came from within.

The prince scrambled up as quickly as he could and darted down the hall, scrunching himself into a small alcove a little ways down the corridor. He waited for a breathless moment until he ventured to peek out around the corner.

Ainan was gone.

Hesitantly, the prince peered into the library, his blue eyes shining with sorrow as he beheld his mother, a hand to her reddening cheek, seated on one of the plush red chairs adorning the vast library. A single tear slid down her face before she caught sight of him and hastily swiped it away, favoring him with a watery smile as she beckoned him to her side.

He came dutifully and hugged her, trying not to wince as she pressed on the still-unhealed welts on his back.

"Is Vedhir cruel to you, Naneth (Mother)?" he asked tentatively. She gazed down at the top of his golden head, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Were you listening, my little Greenleaf?" she asked in return, the note of a reprimand in her voice.

"A little," he answered truthfully. He could never lie to her. Not to her. He looked up into his mother's face, unwilling to believe that she would ever want his uncle to hurt him. And yet…

"Did he hurt you?" he asked with all the candidness of a child. She smiled- but it looked somewhat forced on her beautiful face as she absentmindedly stroked his hair.

"No, my little one. Do not trouble yourself with such things." She examined his flushed face a little more closely and her mother's intuition tingled.

"Is something wrong, my dear one?" she asked quietly as she embraced him again. He opened his mouth but a respectful tap on the library door interrupted him and both looked up. Serkë stood in the doorway, his youthful face hesitant.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty, I-" Anariel smiled at the awkward bow the younger elf gave and beckoned him in.

"Please, Serkë. I have known you and your father for years- there is no need for such formality. What is it you need?" Serkë lifted his eyes apologetically to the Queen.

"My pardons, my Lady, but have you seen my father?" Anariel frowned. That was odd. Rarely had the King's councilor ever left the King's side.

"I have not."

Legolas slid from his mother's embrace, his heart sinking in his chest. He had seen Telas that very afternoon- not more than an hour ago. What had happened to him? The young prince brushed it away with a more concerned thought. If his mother did not speak of his uncle's treatment of her, perhaps it was not uncommon- maybe even acceptable as his usual temperament.

Legolas sighed deeply, feeling weary and terribly drained. He bid goodnight to his mother and Serkë and walked slowly back to his chambers, relieved when the only occupant was the fire in the grate that a servant had been kind enough to light. He curled up in the armchair without a glance at the closed bedroom door at his back and drifted into an uneasy slumber.

Chapter Text

Cold sunlight filtered down onto his golden hair as a chill wind nipped at exposed fingers and cheeks. Legolas felt the slender veins of the feather shift between his fingers as he squinted down the shaft of the arrow. His arm trembled slightly with the effort of holding the draw on the bow as he kept his eyes fixed on the target.

His uncle insisted that he practice every day. Several times the prince had already had to bandage his fingers when they began to bleed from the cruel treatment he subjected them too and his wrist stung as it chafed against his tunic sleeve. Ainan refused to allow him to wear the protective arm guards and finger slips.

The arrow rested against his cheek for the span of a heartbeat before he released it. The bolt snapped into the middle of the target. Legolas allowed himself a small, triumphant smile but, his unease returned as he glanced discreetly over his shoulder at the watchful shadow standing beneath the umbrage of the waving oak trees.

Legolas recognized the dark-haired elf as the one that had accompanied his uncle into the portrait room. Beneath the cool surface, there was a sense of unbridled violence in those dark, burning eyes. A long mane of leonine hair cascaded down the elf's back, pulled into tight braids at the sides in an old traditional warrior's style. His dark gaze caught the prince's stare, flickered insolently over him and abruptly dismissed him. But those dark eyes continued to stare straight into his own. Legolas shivered and looked away.

The elf had the piercing stare of a raptor.

He had been commissioned by his uncle to watch the prince's every move- something Legolas found distinctly unsettling for the elf never said a word but followed always just around the corner or at his heels like a ghostly shadow.

The prince raked his hair out of his eyes, shivering as the wind bit through him. He couldn't wear his cloak either- a further punishment; and the temperature had dropped considerably. Snow would be gathering on the low hills outside of the palace and the black forest river churned icy froth. Down in the cellars where he continued to slave at night, they had to pack the wine in thicker barrels after heating it so it would not freeze completely on its journey down the river to the Men of Long Lake.

Night came early and soon it became far too dark for even Legolas' keen eyes to see the target. The shadows seemed to wrap around him, embracing him in their cool tendrils and the moon was cloud-shrouded this evening as well, promising snow on the outer borders.

With his shadow trailing close behind, Legolas quick-stepped back to the palace, trying not to show to the one who followed him just how anxious he was to return to the warmth and light of his home. At least there, the dark elf did not follow so closely or stare at him so attentively.

Legolas fairly sprang up the marble stairs that led towards the Great Hall and met Kirar descending them. The young prince greeted the lieutenant, smiling slightly. The older elf looked up sharply as though startled then he smiled in genuine delight and, Legolas' eyes narrowed, what looked very much like relief but it was gone before the prince could think to look closer.

"Good-" Kirar, chancing a glance up, caught sight of Legolas' strange shadow and his face whitened. His gaze abruptly returned to Legolas' face and he forced a smile.

"I'm sorry, your Highness, I-I'm rather late to relieve the guard." Legolas nodded but before he had even stopped shaking his head, the older elf had vanished, leaping down the rest of the stairs.

Nonplussed, Legolas quickly ascended, again stopping short as a woman, tall and imposing as well as startlingly beautiful accosted him. With a start, Legolas recognized her as Nárvenien's mother who he had seen in his father's study a few days ago. But the expression on her face was not welcoming and distinctly cold though her lips held a smile.

Legolas squirmed uncomfortably as the woman stared down at him as though he were the refuse of an orc. Eraeriel's sharp eyes snapped to the one who followed him and she tossed her head imperiously.

"Wait elsewhere," she commanded. To Legolas' surprise, the dark elf did as he was told and slid away into the shadows. Legolas licked dry lips and looked back at the tall woman.

"Mae govannen, hiril-nin. (Well met, my lady). What would you with me?" he inquired, inclining his head respectfully. Her cold lips lifted in a small smile.

"Your father wishes to see you, young one, not I." Without another word to him, she swept past him and down the stairs. Legolas blinked, puzzled, then quickly glanced around for his ever-present shadow and sighed silently in relief when he did not see him.

Legolas sighed as he glanced around the fest hall. He did not know what his father had wanted with him because he had not gone at his summons- even when Serkë had come to collect him. He didn't want to face his father and another rebuke- or worse yet another 'session' with his uncle if he found out what the prince had asked yesterday. Legolas stiffened at that prospect. What if Ainan discovered he had been in that room?

To distract himself, Legolas stared around at the hall for what felt like the millionth time that night. Most of those in attendance were of the nobility and lived in or near the palace. Legolas caught sight of Nárvenien sitting serenely beside her mother.

It was an unusually quiet affair and an undercurrent of unease chilled the merriment and muffled the laughter of the room.

Telas' usual chair beside the king stood empty.

The advisor had been missing for two days now and not even a servant had seen him. The young prince could see Serkë, Telas' son, talking with several other elves but his face wore a distant, troubled expression.

Legolas glanced around the table and the dancing floor. Some of Mirkwood's most prestigious minstrels played in one corner, the sweet music of harp and lute filling the air like the laughter of a stream or the soft sound of rain on the leaves. But, the prince listened not to the music.

His blue gaze drifted to the usual four places occupied by the Lothlórien elves, filled only by three this night. A frown darkened his brow as he recalled his uncle's words to him earlier.

Your deadliest enemies are most often those in the guise of a friend…

Legolas could not fathom this to be true- Haldir could not be evil. The elf had been so kind to him. His companions too had been nothing but respectful to him. But perhaps that was what they wanted him to think. Legolas shook his head. It was all so very confusing, he didn't know what to do now.

Why would Haldir save his life in the woods then if he was as cruel as his uncle obviously thought he was? Well, perhaps it would expose his plans to the King if his son were to die… These thoughts gave Legolas a headache and he shook his head, slowly rubbing his temples as he tried not to think about it anymore.

To clear his head of such troublesome thoughts, he turned and walked out onto the balcony, breathing deeply of the fresh night air. A crisp wind, heavy with the promise of snow, swirled round him.

"Van aduial, Legolas (Good evening, Legolas)."

The young prince started and whirled swiftly, relaxing as his keen eyes made out the reclining form of Haldir sitting upon a cushioned chaise with a tome resting in his lap.

"How do you fare?" The prince inquired, eyeing with some concern the bandage that could be glimpsed beneath the older elf's open collar. Haldir smiled at the young one's concern.

"It is much better though I cannot say much for the healer's draughts." He made a bitter face that made Legolas smile. "Vile stuff." The smile faded from the young prince's face soon however and he hung his head as he voiced something that had been bothering him ever since the fight with the wolves three days ago.

"I-I wanted to say I'm sorry," he said quietly. Haldir sat up a little straighter and set aside his book.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," the prince repeated. Haldir frowned.

"What for?" Legolas shrugged helplessly.

"If not for me, you would not have been hurt." Haldir's stern features relaxed slightly and he smiled, flexing his injured shoulder unflinchingly.

"'Tis already healing, Legolas. It was nothing for you to worry yourself over," he smiled. The older elf cocked his head slightly. "It wasn't your fault," he guessed shrewdly. Legolas shot a quick look up at him.

"I-" But Haldir held up a hand to forestall him.

"I encouraged you to go on that ride and I am the one responsible. I have paid for it," he added dryly. "The fault is mine, Legolas- please-"

"Well, how does the injured warrior?" a dry voice interjected. The two elves both glanced up to see Cálivien smiling at them. On his arm was an enchantingly beautiful and stately woman with a river of chocolate hair. She smiled down at Haldir and offered an inclination of her head while he stood and bowed graciously.

"Well indeed," Haldir answered. "And much better for having seen such loveliness," he murmured, laying a kiss on the white hand the woman extended to him. Cálivien grinned and pressed the woman closer to him. She smiled and batted him away good-naturedly before bidding Haldir a good night and slipping back into the warmer halls with a meaningful glance at her charmer.

"And you doubted me," Cálivien laughed before disappearing after the raven-haired beauty. Haldir shook his head with a smile.

Legolas had kept his eyes studiously elsewhere, shifting uncomfortably.

"There you are!" a voice exclaimed. Legolas turned with a relieved smile as Rinniad joined him on the balcony. "I have been searching for you." The younger elf nodded a gracious greeting to Haldir when he noticed him which the older elf returned with an incline of his head.

Legolas followed after his friend after bidding Haldir a fair evening. They met Lóthmir near the entrance. The prince noticed that his friend looked… unsettled. Legolas frowned and touched the elf's arm.

"What's the matter, mellon-nin?" he asked. Lóthmir looked up, startled out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked blankly. Rinniad now turned to regard him too.

"Is there something troubling you?" The cornered elf shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Come off it, Lóthmir," Rinniad scoffed. "You look lower than a skewered orc. What's going on?" Legolas felt a sudden chill that he couldn't quite explain as Lóthmir glanced up at him.

"I-I'm just worried about my father. He's…been gone from home a lot lately." Rinniad and Legolas exchanged a glance.

"Your mother wouldn't permit him to go on long patrols anymore. She was angry enough last time he went out on the borders for a week-" Lóthmir shook his head.

"It's not like that."

"Oh."

"What is it like then?" Legolas asked gently. The taller elf waved it away carelessly.

"I don't want to talk about it right now, all right? Come on, let's find something fun to do- what color do you wager we can turn your father's sword tonight, Rinniad?" Rinniad's face broke into a huge smile.

"You know I think he almost liked that bright orange we turned it last time."

The young elves laughed as they dashed quickly out of the feast hall. None of them noticed the two elves standing in the shadows, speaking in low tones.

"This is madness, Kirar!" Tirien hissed. "How can you follow him?" The lieutenant's eyes flickered with conviction.

"He is more powerful than you know, Tirien. He will bring Mirkwood back to what it used to be- you remember its former glory, do you not?"

"I should never have let you talk me into this."

"It is for the good of the kingdom," Kirar insisted stubbornly.

"High treason?" Tirien rejoined, his eyes wide. "That is what you are suggesting. Civil war! That is for the good of the kingdom?"

"Speak softly, my friend," Kirar warned, his voice suddenly cool. "Revealing things best kept in the dark could be dangerous for your health- or your family's."

Tirien's head shot up.

"Are you threatening me?" Kirar did not move nor flinch.

"I do not threaten. I am your friend and I am only warning you of the dangers of saying too much." The captain of the guard's brow furrowed but before he could say aught else the elven lieutenant had vanished.

The tightly spiraling passageway was scarcely lit with sputtering torches that blackened the wall behind them and filled the air with a smoke that disappeared into the lightlessness above his head. Legolas widened his eyes against the deepening darkness around him for the passage was dim and lit only by the few sputtering torches ensconced upon the staircase.

Legolas felt his way down the stairs, carefully putting one foot before the other in the black places where the inconstant light did not reach. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and the prince glanced over his shoulder again. His shadow had returned, doggedly hounding his footsteps and watching every move he made.

And yet, he remained invisible.

To Legolas' keen eyes, it seemed the shadows loomed a little too large at times or the silence too pervasive. Shivering with more than the damp chill, the young elf bounded down the last of the stairs, leaping over a small puddle on the stone floor. Far off to the right, Legolas caught a glimpse and heard the rushing echo of the underground stream as it ran through the canal cut in the stone to join the forest river under the sky.

It was damp and dark down here. These were the cellars beneath the very bowels of the palace. The light and laughter of the festivities above had long ago retreated into the silence of the stone.

After Rinniad's father had caught them in their mischief and sent Rinniad off to bed, Legolas and Lóthmir had not lingered long lest their own fathers be alerted to their absence from the feast hall. And yet, both young elves had quickly tired of the dull talk of the adults and the endless, mindless chatter. Lóthmir had eventually bid the prince a good night and went to seek his rest.

Then Legolas had remembered that he was due in the cellars for his punishment and hastened down the stairs after being excused by his father. Thranduil still felt his son needed to learn responsibility and all works of palace life. This was to be his study and his punishment for Valar knew how long. In his own mind, Legolas felt that he had been punished quite enough.

But the darkness, turned his thoughts again and he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally caught sight of the other workers who sang as they lifted and rolled the barrels into the river or enjoyed some of the produce that they had to send up to the halls.

Galion, the head butler, walked up him, swaying slightly under the excess of the Dorwinion that had been poled upriver for just such an occasion as tonight.

"You're late, young prince!" Galion admonished him. "I expected you to help me an hour earlier today to help me with these barrels that need taking up to the halls."

"Sorry, Galion," Legolas apologized swiftly. "I lost track of time."

The butler harrumphed but his face broke into a small smile and he shook his head.

"Honestly, Legolas, if you get into any more trouble you'll end up taking over my job," he laughed as his fellows called him back to their revelry. The prince rolled his eyes and hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The fool butler spends more of his time consuming the wine rather than actually unloading it, Legolas thought mutinously several long hours later as he tapped a hole into the barrel to release the wine. It was only then that he realized that he had not shoved the spout into it and the ruby colored liquid splashed over his face and clothes to puddle around his feet like blood.

Biting back a curse, he fumbled for the cork and knocked the bung solidly into the barrel. His fingers were stiff with cold from being down in the cellars which were notoriously damp for so long. It must be past dinnertime at least, Legolas thought as he straightened his aching back and rolled the full barrel towards the others that were to be sent to the King's table for the evening meal. It seemed the festivities were still in full swing upstairs and the merriment down here had grown as more and more of the elves shirked their duties in favor of the fine warm wines sent to them by the men of the Long Lake.

The dark-haired elf had insinuated himself against the damp stone with his arms crossed. Legolas felt those eyes boring into his back as he worked and shivered uncomfortably.

"What a good little soldier you are," the elf spat with sarcasm sharper than a razor blade. Legolas felt a chill run up his spine as he turned to find the stranger not a foot from him. It was the first time Legolas had ever heard him speak in a tone as smooth and dark as the shadows that environed them.

He had not even heard him approach.

The prince uneasily sidestepped the elf and rolled the empty barrel to the storage room where two great oaken trapdoors opened to the watercourse, listening as it dropped with a splash into the iciness below. Legolas could see the small, white ice shapes far below that glimmered briefly in the lantern light before sweeping out of sight into the dark caverns.

Legolas shivered.

"I know it was you," that dark voice hissed, startling the prince who leapt away from those gleaming eyes that fixed on his from out of the darkness.

"Only one so young could reek of such fear."

Legolas retreated a step, careful to skirt the dangerous edge of the hole in the floor that led to quite a drop into the frigid water below.

"That is your only way out," the dark elf said softly, his near-black gaze flicking from the prince to fix on the icy hole. Legolas felt a surge of terror and confusion at the elf's words.

The dark elf slid sinuously forward and took an end of the barrel as though to help the prince with it when Galion glanced over. The empty barrel tumbled into the black hole and landed with a distant splash far below.

For a moment, the prince stood entranced, staring down into the darkness. He could imagine himself falling, falling deep into the water, feel its cold embrace as he was swept away downriver under the stone. He would drown before he reached the open sky, he knew. Horror consumed him and Legolas leapt away, staring in abject terror at the dark-haired elf who stood staring calmly at him.

Swifter than a viper's strike, Tindómëtir lunged forward and gripped the prince's chin in a thin, white hand, wrenching the younger elf's eyes up to his. Legolas trembled with fear: of the menacing form above him and the icy water he could hear rushing far below him.

Tindómëtir frowned down into his face, his eyes registering surprise an instant before it vanished.

"You are not yet broken," he hissed softly. Those words sent a shiver down Legolas' spine. With a sudden burst of strength he didn't know he had, Legolas twisted free of the dark elf's grasp and ran out the door: past the barrels that still needed to be loaded, past Galion and his merry-making friends. His heart leapt into his throat as he leapt up the stairs two at a time. His legs burned but he did not stop running until he had left the cellars and their terrifying occupant far behind.

The merriment had long since ended by midnight. Legolas laid his hand on the stone sill of the balcony he stood upon and sighed, staring up at the cloudy firmament. He was weary but he could not sleep; his arms and fingers ached from hours spent in the cold cellars. But that was not what caused his sleeplessness.

Your only way out…

Legolas shivered and looked away from the shadowed sky and frowned slightly, narrowing his eyes against the darkness. The stars gleamed overhead and the prince breathed a sigh as he realized that this might have been his last night here. Though he hated the position he had been placed in, hated the beatings and punishments of his father and uncle, he valued life far more. A slight flash of auburn caught his eye, down under the lanterns leading over the bridge.

Nárvenien? What could she be doing out so late when everyone else was inside, abed?

For the longest time afterwards, Legolas could never figure out what made him walk down the Great Hall stairs and down towards the bridge. There was no reason for it, he knew but something drew him forward. Certainly he had no interest in the woman if he could help it- she took every opportunity to make his life miserable. And yet, she knew something… she had hinted at as much when she had last spoken to him though he had not seen her since their fight weeks ago.

She spotted him before he could speak and Legolas felt an awkward twinge as he realized she was crying. Silvery tears rolled freely down her cheeks.

"I wish you were dead," she snarled, dashing her tears from her cheeks. "It's all your fault!" She screamed and swiped at him. The prince dodged and leapt back a step, his face suffused with puzzlement and confusion, already regretting his decision to come here.

"What is?" he asked. She came on like an inferno, her fists clenched at her side.

"You foul little pestilence! You know what you did."

Startled by the attack, he seized her wrists and clung tightly to keep her from gouging his eyes out with her fingernails.

"Let me go!" she spat, struggling against him. He abruptly released her and danced back several paces.

Suddenly, terribly calm, she pulled back, her eyes glittering malevolently and her fiery hair whirling around her white face in the biting wind.

"You have nothing to live for anyway. I know what he does to you… you can't hide it from me." Legolas felt as though in iron band were squeezing his skull What was she…?

"What are you saying?" he asked, more harshly than he had intended. She threw her head back and laughed bitterly, a strange gleam in her eyes.

"You wait! Something's going to happen. Something terrible. You're drowning, little prince and I don't think you'll swim to shore."

Legolas could not stand to listen to anymore and he immediately turned around, racing back towards the palace, his heart thumping loudly in his ears.

A small, irritated sound of disgust left the servant's throat as she examined the wine stain a careless guest's goblet had spattered on one of the two thousand year old tapestries adorning the wall. Sighing audibly, she eased it from its pegs and allowed the heavy cloth to flop onto the floor.

Her terrified scream of horror cut the night like a knife.

Chapter Text

Legolas paused for breath in the corridor before the library, his heart banging against his ribs. He didn't want to think about what Nárvenien had said but her words hissed relentlessly through his mind.

Something terrible… terrible… something terrible is going to happen… You won't swim to shore…

It was late and Legolas felt suddenly exhausted after all of the excitement. The shortest way to his room cut through the library. But the young prince stopped short as he spotted a group of elves occupying the room. One of the elves glanced over at him and Ainan turned, smiling at his nephew and beckoning him over.

"Come in, Legolas!"

Obediently, the prince walked over feeling apprehensive as he bowed in welcome. The elves smiled down at him with rather odd expressions on their faces. Legolas returned the smile a little uneasily. All of these elves were unfamiliar to him. His uncle's friends, he supposed.

"Legolas, may I present- Alagosdhín, Arëar and Tindómëtir. They are honorable compatriots of mine who have traveled far with me and arrived yestereve." His uncle smiled. It was not altogether reassuring and Legolas felt distinctly uncomfortable in their presence. But he bowed dutifully as was expected of him.

"Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo, randirim (A star shines on the hour of our meeting, wanderers.)" The elves nodded wordlessly. To his surprise, he recognized Eraeriel, Nárvenien's mother, among them as well as she gave him a tight smile though it did not reach her cold eyes. He felt a chill crawl up his spine as he perceived Tindómëtir's burning eyes upon him. Ainan's grin faltered slightly as he gave the younger elf a gentle push towards the door.

"Go on now, little one. I shall see you later." One elf scrutinized the prince's back carefully as he swiftly disappeared from the room.

"You are sure the young one suspects nothing, Ainan?" he asked softly. The other elf's answering smile was the epitome of condescension as he crossed the room and hastily locked the door.

"Believe me, Tindómëtir, the boy knows nothing. I have him in my power now."

"Ever the charmer," Arëar put in.

"A snake charmer, if I recall correctly," Ainan retorted dryly but his smile had vanished. "Legolas is not your concern. If we may finally address the matter at hand?" Alagosdhín, who had remained silent until now, stepped forth.

"Of course, my lord…" Legolas stood outside the door for a long moment, listening. He heard his uncle's voice again.

"We must prepare for our triumph!" Ainan said, his eyes blazing. "After so many years of planning and effort! The culmination of so many shall finally be brought together." Legolas hadn't the faintest idea of what they were talking about but it sounded serious.

But as the voices continued to whisper inside the room, the words of the collusion within shook him to the very core of his being.

"Do you really wish to fight for the Kingdom for the rest of your immortal life, Ainan?" a voice demanded, musical indeed, but dark- a voice that masked deeds of evil. "There are many who are still loyal to Thranduil- civil war will tear the forest apart. There is only one solution to this."

"Such as?" Legolas heard his uncle's voice respond coolly.

"Simply make sure that Thranduil does not return."

There was a long silence within as though words long thought had been finally spoken aloud.

"Oh, for the day his blood will gush upon the stones!" a fervent voice hissed. Legolas barely recognized it as his uncle's. "We shall take back what is so rightfully ours at last!"

Murder… betrayal… his father! His heart sank in his breast as he realized that his uncle had used him- had been all along as a pawn. And he had fallen for it like a fool! All his secrets and all of his lies! Kept quiet because he thought he had been the only one who had to pay the price. Legolas gripped his hair in anguish, fighting back the tears that sprang to his eyes.

He had to warn his father and quickly! Bolting down the corridor, Legolas ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

Ainan turned towards the doorway as the subtle sound of elven footsteps faded away. He turned back to the suddenly silent group and smiled slightly.

"We may have to speed up our plans just a little, gentlemen," he said coolly.

"In your power, hmm?" Tindómëtir, who had also heard the soft footsteps, questioned scornfully. Ainan's eyes narrowed at the only dark-haired elf amongst them.

"Take heed in what you say. I shall take care of Legolas. You just make sure you do your job." The other elf smiled- almost a sneer.

"Be iest lin, hir-nin. (As you wish, my lord.)"

Without another word, the three elves glided like ghosts out of the room and into the corridor, vanishing into the darkness to do their ambition's bidding.

Ainan waited until he was sure that they were long gone before breathing a deep sigh. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Legolas, why did you linger? He questioned bitterly. Despite everything, Ainan truly did not wish to kill his sister's child… until it suited his plans at least. It was far too early. But now… did he have a choice?

Sighing again, Ainan left his wine goblet untasted on the table and swept out of the room, following the path his wayward nephew had taken.

The Elvenking frowned. Something was troubling his wife. He took her hand in his. She had been growing more quiet and distant as the weeks passed and often he found her sitting alone in a dark room, lost in thought. He supposed he had been somewhat neglectful to her for his duties had become ever more pressing and Ainan had been of little help.

"What is it, dearest?"

Anariel sighed and sank into a seat beside her husband, her fair face troubled. "I'll only be gone for a few days- you know I do it every year. You have never protested my going on the Great Hunt before."

"My heart has never so grievously misgiven me before now." Thranduil sat beside her again and took her into his arms.

"Now, now. What is truly troubling you?" She had been agitated ever since her brother had returned to the palace.

Thranduil had had his own misgivings about his brother-in-law and he wondered if his wife shared them though he knew she was loyal to her brother.

"Is it Ainan?" he guessed. She shook her head then nodded, wringing her hands anxiously.

"No… yes. Yes. Thranduil, he has always been terribly jealous of you. My brother is ambitious… He… I fear what he may do," she burst out. Thranduil chuckled and smiled reassuringly at his wife as he patted her hand.

"I am willing to make amends and forget the past. Give him a chance, darling. He may surprise you." He wanted to make her feel better, to show her that he was making an effort to accept her brother and give him another chance. This way, he reasoned, she would not feel so alone when he nodded slowly, her face reflecting her misgivings. There was a faint red mark on her cheek but Thranduil had not yet been given an answer for when he had asked her how she had received it. Thranduil kissed her reassuringly.

"Besides, you will be here to curb him and Legolas will help you if you ask him. I feel better leaving everything in your capable and lovely hands," he said, taking them in his strong ones and kissing them. "There now, dear. Do not trouble yourself." The Queen looked up at her lord and husband, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"Be careful, darling."

"I will," he assured her as he stood and swung his midnight blue cloak about his shoulders and strapped his beautifully gilded quiver to his back. The Queen watched him and silently prayed for his safe return.

Legolas raced down the hall, his face flushed and legs aching. But he pushed himself onwards… his father had to be warned!

Not paying attention to where he was going, he did not see the elf until he ran into him and knocked him to the ground.

"Young prince? What is the matter?" a voice asked. Legolas blushed furiously as he rose and helped the elf to his feet. He looked up, recognizing him as one of the others who had accompanied Haldir from Lothlórien.

"I am terribly sorry, sir. I was in a bit of a hurry." The older elf smiled gently.

"I can see that. Where were you running too in such a hurry, if I may ask?" Legolas shifted impatiently. Every moment he wasted talking was one minute more his father went unwarned and unprotected.

"I have to find my father, sir. If you please excuse me-" Cálivien shook his head.

"He is not here, young prince. He left several hours ago to attend to some formal matter."

"He left?" Legolas asked dazedly. Cálivien nodded. "Where?"

"I cannot tell you where he has gone." Legolas nodded absently and without another word sprinted on down the corridor. The other elf watched him go, shaking his head in bemusement.

Cálivien walked away down the hall in silent thought. Something was deeply troubling the prince. That much was blatantly obvious. But what? He seemed bothered by the fact that his father was not in the palace. Could the king be in some sort of danger? Cálivien snorted and immediately dismissed that possibility. The King was far too well-protected. The charming woman he had spent the evening with had told him that the King participated on an annual hunt on such a night after the feast and his people had seen he and his huntsmen off. Cálivien shook his head again. There must be something else troubling the prince. Ah, to be young again with the frivolous cares of irresponsibility.

Immersed in his thoughts, he did not see the gleaming, silver-blue eyes that watched him as he passed.

The door to the King's chambers burst open with a bang and Tirien bowed in hasty apology as Thranduil jumped away from the door that had nearly struck him. Anariel leapt to her feet as well, her eyes wide in alarm.

"What is it, Tirien? Bursting into my chambers like a drunken troll..."

"My apologies, hir-nin. But, we-we found Telas, sire," the guard gasped, his eyes sorrowful and breath ragged from having run all the way. The King paled slightly as he stood, tossing his quiver onto the bed.

"Where?"

The torches flickered into life along the walls as the King strode briskly past. A group of elves already surrounded the small area at the far end of the hall, their faces white and horror-stricken in the dim light. Thranduil glanced at the pale face of a servant who looked as though she were about to faint.

"What happened here?" he asked softly. Tirien motioned him forward beside a large, colorful drape.

The bottom dropped out of the King's stomach as the falling of the tapestry revealed the tragedy behind it. Cunningly hidden behind the cloth was a crosshatch of gold over a narrow window sunk deep into the wall. It opened into a small alcove that allowed no room to move. Telas' pale face gazed out at them, his eyes vacant and horror-stricken.

They called to him but he made no move and did not respond to their calls. Another guard searching behind every tapestry down the length of the hall found a hidden crack between the intersecting corners at the far end of the room which was hidden by a great pillar and just large enough to squeeze through.

The King, Queen and their guards all listened to him fumbling through the wall. Telas shifted in his tiny prison and the guard's face came into view. His face was white with horror.

"It is a prison room, my lord," he addressed the King but Thranduil brushed aside the decorum.

"Telas, Tirien. Is he alive?" The guard shifted uncomfortably and reached his arm up with difficulty to check the other's vitals.

"Just barely, sir," came the slightly muffled reply. Thranduil breathed an audible sigh of relief and looked around the room again, catching sight of Telas' son, Serkë, standing near the cell, staring into the prison. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke softly to his father. The King bowed his head in horror, unable to fathom how his friend had borne it- to have aid so close and be unable to call out.

The guards managed to free him and ease him back through the crack in the wall. Serkë ran forward and crouched at his father's head as they laid him carefully down on his back. He was unconscious but his eyes were open and horror-stricken. Suddenly, he blinked and looked up into his son's face and gave a muted cry of joy before the guard removed the red-colored cloth that had been roughly thrust into his mouth.

Thranduil allowed them a moment before touching his councilor on the shoulder, frowning at the dried blood clinging to the other elf's skin which was icy cold to the touch. His face was very thin and gaunt for his captors had given him just enough food to keep him alive- and barely that. His lips were cracked and parched- so much that they bled. His robes were filthy and torn in several places as though by raking blades and his wrists were chafed and bruised from the hours he had spent tugging fruitlessly at his chains.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Tirien asked hopefully, his brow creased in concern. But Telas shook his head and would not speak. Thranduil leaned forward and nodded encouragingly.

"Go on, Telas. Please, speak. Tell us what happened." Telas shook his head again, his eyes widening in horror. He opened his mouth but no sound issued forth. The Elvenking frowned uncomprehendingly then, realizing with a flash of clarity, he recoiled in horror.

The elf's tongue had been removed.

It was not that he would not speak.

He could not speak.

"Sir! There is a passage here!" a soldier said suddenly from behind the grate. He plucked a torch from inside the doorway and swept it towards the narrow corridor that receded into darkness. Thranduil shook his head.

"Not now- Telas needs looking after first," the King said, kneeling beside his friend's limp form.

"Kirar!" Legolas skidded to a stop before the lieutenant, of the royal guard surprised but relieved to see him. The older elf looked down at him with an implacable expression.

"Legolas, so there you are. Come with me." He seized the younger elf by the arm and began to tug him down the corridor.

"Wait, Kirar, I have to tell you something. My-"

"Later, Legolas," Kirar answered sharply, pulling him along. "Follow me now." The prince did not struggle but he trotted along at his elder's side, confused and bewildered and very frightened. He could not linger here! He had to do something! He tugged on the other elf's arm, trying to get his attention.

"Sir, you have to listen to me!" Kirar suddenly stopped and shook himself from Legolas' hold. He knelt beside the prince and took him by the upper arms.

"The wolves have encroached our borders, my prince. I cannot trouble your father or mother with it at this moment but I have summoned our group together and what other warriors I could find. We must find them tonight and discover their movements or we will all be in danger. It will be your first hunt, among others. But, I need your help now, young prince. Whatever you must tell me, must wait. Will you help me?"

Legolas nodded, unable to speak. Now, wolves? His stomach twisted with worry as he glanced back down the darkened corridors.

"Do you know where my father is, Kirar?" The lieutenant looked at him closely, seeming to guess some part of his thoughts for he smiled reassuringly.

"Do not worry, young one. Your father is fine." Legolas breathed a sigh of relief but he could not relax fully.

"I will help you then," he said at last. Kirar nodded.

"Good." And they were off down the corridor again, Legolas nearly running to keep up with his teacher who handed him a quiver and a dark wood bow both of which the prince slung quickly over his shoulder.

They eased down the darkened corridors which were empty and silent by now. As they swished through the long grass out on the parade ground, heading towards the dark trees that swayed in a biting wind, Legolas shivered. He glanced over the moon dappled ground but could see no sign of anyone else.

"Where is everyone, Kirar?" he asked, looking up at his teacher whose face was deeply shadowed as a cloud whisked across the moon.

"They have already gone on before us; I had to fetch you," answered he curtly.

Silence passed between them again as they crossed the stone bridge beneath which the frigid forest river flowed. Once on the other side, away from the palace, Kirar left the beaten path and pushed into the trees, sliding through the undergrowth with an economy of motion that only an elf could possess. Legolas followed after him just as silently, stepping carefully to avoid uplifted roots and grasping branches that waved like threatening fingers above him, as though warning him to go back. To stay away.

Legolas felt an uneasy prickling at the back of his neck as he strained his eyes, trying to pierce the gloom-shrouded night.

Mist curled up from the riverbanks, twining about their ankles and the tree trunks, making them ghostly shapes that loomed suddenly before them and disappeared into nothingness behind them. A skittering above them in the branches and both elves looked up. Swifter than sight, Kirar had an arrow to his bow, pointing upwards and Legolas had spun around with his half-drawn, his blue eyes wide as he stared wildly at the menacing trees.

Nothing.

They waited a long moment in tense silence then slowly, Kirar exhaled deeply and lowered his bow. Legolas glanced at him and moved closer. His elder was jumpy too. Water tinkled nearby and ripples sparkled in the intermittent times when the moon was not covered. Starlight gleamed upon the stream's mirror like surface. This was a small tributary of the larger forest river and it ran for a good several miles through the forest before curving back around through the trees and emptying into the river near Long Lake.

Kirar stood upon the bank for a long moment, casting about in the silt but for what Legolas wasn't sure. Legolas glanced around and stepped lightly across the river upon a makeshift bridge of stones that halted abruptly mid-river.

"I'll take a quick look about- see if I can find any signs of wolf passing or the others," Kirar informed him softly. Legolas nodded eagerly and leapt back across the river.

"I'll go with you."

"No!" Kirar said sharply, startling Legolas who halted abruptly. "No," Kirar said more calmly. "Just- just stay here. You don't want to end up in another mess like you did with the wolves." Legolas' eager face fell.

"You know about that?"

"Legolas," Kirar sighed with a somewhat apologetic air. "Everybody knows about that. Lucky Haldir was there to save you, hmm?" Legolas looked away with a shrug. Kirar smiled slightly. "Just wait here for me and don't wander off. Stay on this side of the river as well- it's safer." With that, the lieutenant backed into the brake and disappeared.

Legolas sighed deeply and returned his gaze to the river. He looked across the icy black water to the trees whose willow branches trailed like lazy fingers through the water and shivered, looking down instead. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing around at the dark trees that creaked in the wind. It must be a kind of test, he thought: to see if he could follow orders and stay in one place- even though it was the dead of night. In the forest.

To distract himself, Legolas peered down into the frosted river, watching the reflections of the moonlight idly play on the water. He leaned closer and peered in. A silvery fish swam there near the bottom. He watched it closely and reached out a hand to capture it.

A shadow fell across the moonlit water and the fish darted away.

Suddenly, Legolas felt icy hands clamp around his neck and thrust his head beneath the frothing river. The shocking cold struck him like a thousand pins and needles and he thrashed, struggling to raise his head up. Bubbles of panicked air rose from his mouth as he tried to breathe and sucked in only water. He flung himself from side to side, trying to break the monster's iron grip around his throat. Black spots began to dance before his eyes as the bubbles grew smaller.

Legolas felt something hard and cold touch his hand and he realized that it was Haldir's knife- he had forgotten to return it. Doing the only thing he could think of, Legolas desperately tried to unsheathe it but the blade snagged in his tunic and the cloth tore. Blindly slashing backwards, he cut at the hand that held him.

Through the water, Legolas heard a muffled yelp of pain and surprise.

Abruptly, the hands released him. Legolas surfaced like a dolphin, gasping for air and retching water from his lungs.

He was yanked cruelly up and tossed upon the shore like a caught fish. Legolas vomited more water from his lungs, coughing and choking as he inhaled precious, life-giving air. When he wiped the water from his eyes and looked up, he felt the cold fingers of terror clutch at his heart.

The dark elf, Tindómëtir, glared down at him, still standing in the shallows, a hand clutching the tear in his sleeve; blood, black in the dim light, seeped through his fingers where Legolas had landed the blow with his knife. Legolas frantically pushed himself backwards, trying to get away from the elf but his head still spun from lack of oxygen and he collapsed onto his back.

The other elf's face was inscrutable, eerily calm as he gazed down at the prince cowering against the earth.

"I told you before it is your only way out," he rasped quietly. "He will never stop." Legolas felt a chill run through him at those words but he could only stare up in wordless horror at the elf who had just tried to murder him.

Tindómëtir's head snapped sharply eastward though Legolas could hear nothing but the wind roaring among the trees. The vile elf leaned over the petrified prince, his face deathly pale and grim.

"Speak of this to anyone and I swear you have not yet known true torment. Your life will be so long and full of suffering that Mandos himself will be moved to pity," he vowed darkly. Legolas could only nod and cough more water from his lungs.

A frigid smile touched the elf's lips but did not reach anywhere near his eyes as he faded back into the shadows and vanished.

His wet hair plastered to his face, Legolas curled up, shaken but he leapt to his feet as the bushes rustled. He snatched Haldir's knife from the riverbank but relaxed slightly as Kirar emerged from the undergrowth like a moonlit shadow, his bow in hand and an arrow nocked. He seemed surprised to see the prince, looking up at him through the wet strands of his hair. There was something in the taller elf's eyes that made Legolas wonder- apology? Regret? It was there for an instant then gone.

"What did you fall in?" Kirar asked with a slight frown. Legolas merely nodded dumbly, wiping the water from his eyes.

"I nearly caught a fish." It was the only thing he could think of to say as he tucked the knife into his belt discreetly. Kirar nodded but Legolas could see the doubt in his eyes. The elder elf jerked his head eastward, back towards the palace.

"Come on. Let's get you back home and into dry clothes." Legolas nodded thankfully, gingerly touching his neck where he could still feel the dark elf's fingers. Kirar did not notice and set a quick pace back towards the palace.

The royal guard lieutenant walked the prince back towards his room but they both halted as the sound of voices reached their ears, high-pitched voices. Fearful voices. Kirar frowned deeply, his green eyes narrowed at the flickering torches and low, troubled sounds. He caught a few snatched words and bit his lip.

"Legolas, get yourself to bed." The prince looked up at his elder, whose face had gone suddenly pale.

"What is it, Kirar?" he asked.

"Go, I say," the elf answered sharply, giving him a shove in the right direction as he stalked off in the other.

Legolas paused for an uncertain moment but he could not go to his rooms. He was wide awake now. Something was very wrong. He could feel it.

Padding down the corridor as softly as a cat, he retraced Kirar's footsteps down the corridor. After a moment of walking through pools of darkness and alternate light between the torches that marched on down the hall, Legolas caught a glimpse of his quarry. Kirar strode briskly down the hall, half-running. Legolas had to jog to keep up with him while still trying to be silent but Kirar didn't seem to be paying attention to anything behind him.

The stone passage quickly widened and flickering orange light made him blink as he paused at the entrance to a vast room, which Legolas recognized as the dining hall. There were people there that the young elf thought odd for everyone had departed from the feast long ago.

He saw his father there, and several guards, Serkë who stood beside something dark sprawled limply upon the floor. Legolas narrowed his eyes against the darkness but he dared go no closer and the torchlight did not reach the deep well of shade across the room. He knew he ought to tell his father about the collusion but he felt that perhaps this wasn't the best of times. He pricked up his ears as a voice spoke.

"How did this happen?" A voice hissed and Legolas recognized it as Kirar's as he knelt beside the shadowy something upon the floor.

"We don't know. He needs help- badly. The foul orc-sired cur who did this cut out his tongue," Tirien replied, his face ghost-white in the torch's luminescence.

Legolas swallowed hard, feeling suddenly sick. Who was it lying on the floor? Were they dead? He found himself leaning forwards, straining to catch the next words.

"Thranduil, why was I not summoned immediately?" a voice rapped out, sounding irritated. Legolas shrank back into the shadows at the sound of his uncle's feared tones.

Ainan strode into the room, his golden hair whirling about his face and a silver robe wrapped about his slender figure. He stopped and stared down at the limp form of Telas, his expression unreadable.

"Is he dead?"

"Nearly, my lord," Tirien answered. A look passed between Kirar and Ainan that Legolas did not catch. Thranduil shot a sharp glance at his brother-in-law and caught sight of the figure standing in the shadows behind him.

"Legolas, what are you doing out here?" The prince jerked, surprised and startled to find his father, Ainan and Kirar staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed as he walked guilty towards them.

"I-I'm sorry, I just-" But Thranduil shook his head and quickly stepped around the stretcher, shielding it from his son's view as he took Legolas firmly by the shoulders and steered him away. Then he noticed that his son was sopping wet and dripping all over the floor.

"Why are you all wet, Legolas?" The prince swiped his soaking hair out of his eyes, glancing sheepishly at the growing puddle beneath his boots.

"I was out in the forest, Ada."

"What on earth where you doing out there in the middle of the night?" Legolas looked up, surprised that his father hadn't known about the wolves.

"I fell in the river while we were hunting-"

"Hunting?" Thranduil asked. Legolas nodded, becoming more puzzled than ever by the fact that his father had not known.

"Yes, Kirar said-" Kirar looked studiously elsewhere as Thranduil glanced at him.

"Well, never you mind about that now. Go to bed, little one, please. I'll explain in the morning."

"What happened Ada?" Legolas asked. Thranduil froze.

"I… I don't know, Legolas. That's what I'm trying to find out. You try to go to sleep all right? You look tired."

"I shall take him, muindor," Ainan said in a suddenly businesslike manner, coming up behind the King. Thranduil paused.

"I could use you here, Ainan," he said softly.

Ainan turned his back to Legolas towards the King, their heads bent close so the young elf could only catch snatches of their words.

"This is not the time…we need…"

"… you want…"

"Why can't you…?"

Legolas waited, half in fear, wondering if he should escape to his room right now but decided to stay as he peered around his father's form at the makeshift stretcher lying on the floor. Thranduil sighed and nodded briskly to Tirien and Kirar who hefted the stretcher and hurried off down the corridor towards the healer's wing. Other household servants who had been standing watchfully by followed them.

"Khile nin, Legolas, (Follow me, Legolas,)" Ainan commanded softly, a hand on his nephew's shoulder.

"Ainan," Thranduil called after him. Legolas tensed as the other elf turned.

The prince looked at the two- brothers in name only, he knew. They were so very different now. Ainan's face was watchful, guarded. Thranduil's haggard and worried. Legolas thought he looked very much alone standing in the middle of that great hall. But his back was straight and firm as he looked his brother-in-law in the eye.

"I would speak with you later."

Ainan smiled.

"Of course, hir-nin."

With an arm draped amiably about Legolas' shoulders, he led the way out of the hall and down the dark corridors.

Chapter Text

Legolas swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth. As soon as they were around the corner, Ainan's hand tightened on the prince's shoulder, digging into his skin. Legolas squirmed, trying to wrench away but his uncle had a firm grip on him. Soft footsteps alerted them to another presence coming up behind them. Tirien with his son Lóthmir at his side fell into step beside them. The Royal Guard captain's eyes were watchful.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said with a nod of his head to Ainan. "But the King asked me to accompany you." Ainan's face tightened but he smiled and returned the gracious nod as he released Legolas' shoulder. The prince winced slightly but walked on straight ahead as his friend walked with him ahead of the adults.

"What happened, Legolas?" Lóthmir asked, shooting a glance back at his father. "Ada won't tell me anything. Do you know what's going on?" The prince merely shook his head, feeling his uncle's furious eyes boring into his back.

"I don't have any idea."

The younger elf tried a small smile and plucked at the prince's sodden sleeve.

"What happened, mellon? Did you fall in the fountain watching the stars again?" Legolas smiled slightly but it was forced. Hearing the comment, Ainan answered, the first he had spoken since the pair had joined them.

"We should get you out of those wet things, tôrion, before you catch a chill." Legolas nodded in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner though his hands were shaking. He knew now there was no escaping. Lóthmir grinned uneasily and glanced around at the darkened corridors as Tirien hurried his son along.

"Let me know if you find anything out," he whispered until his father lightly cuffed him on the head. Legolas flinched back, wondering if Lóthmir too suffered as he did. He began to think of even Tirien's kind face concealing dark designs. The younger elf protested with an annoyed grin.

"Ada! I'm sorry I just want to know! What's the big secret?" Tirien shook his head at his son's inquisitiveness.

"That is not for you to know, ion (son)." He shot a glance up at Ainan and bowed stiffly. "I'm afraid I must take my leave of you here, my lord. I must get my son home." Ainan smiled graciously and swept his hand outward.

"By all means."

Legolas shifted uneasily as he kept his eyes firmly on the red carpet beneath his boots.

"Where have you been all night, tôrion? You did not come to me for our usual lesson- I was worried."

Legolas tried to meet his uncle's gaze and failed.

"I-I was cleaning up in the cellars, Vedhir… for my punishment ea-"

"You are lying to me, Legolas," Ainan interrupted, his face calm and composed but disappointment laced his words like acid. "I have already seen the cellar servants today and they told me they have not seen hide nor hair of you since early this evening. You know I do not like it when you lie to me." Legolas said nothing, his blue eyes still fastened on the red carpet beneath his booted feet.

"I know you were present where you should not have been this night, Legolas." The prince swallowed uncomfortably, remembering the strange elves he had seen earlier, overhearing their words to kill his father…

There was no use in denying it, Ainan already knew- he always did.

"Yes, Vedhir," the prince replied numbly. His heart was thumping so loudly he was sure his uncle could hear it.

"I ask you," Ainan asked in a deceptively soft voice. "Would you care to talk about what you have heard?" Legolas shook his head mutely, too terrified to speak. His uncle's handsome face tightened as he leaned towards the child who recoiled.

"Good. For I shall flay you to within an inch of your life if you speak of this to anyone." Legolas did not reply afraid that if he spoke to either deny or affirm his uncle would mean another beating and more pain. Then he thought of the crumpled form of Telas and the conspiracy of his uncle, his mother's tearful face…

Legolas' eyes flashed though his stomach coiled with fear as he wrenched away from his uncle. So used was Ainan to obedience that this movement shocked him enough that the prince was able to wriggle away.

"I know of your plans, uncle!" Legolas stated boldly. "You're going to murder my father! I will not be your pawn anymore!" Aiann smiled dangerously and unease swept through Legolas. With serpentine speed, the older elf lunged forward and caught the young elf by his wrist. Legolas closed his eyes and his face twisted against the pain but he did not cry out.

"No one will believe the words of a spoilt, pampered, palace brat who does not understand the need for discipline in his life. You are my pawn until I release you!"

Suddenly, the mad elf released his grip on Legolas' arm. Startled by the sudden loss of support, the prince dropped to his knees, cradling his arm close. Ainan took his nephew's chin in his hand, leaning over him dangerously.

"Rise."

Legolas did so, his legs shaking so badly he feared he would drop again. He could not look into his uncle's face and fixed his gaze fervently on the floor.

"Remove your tunic."

Used to this order by now, and knowing what was coming, Legolas peeled off the wet garments with shaking fingers as his uncle disappeared and returned a moment later with the supple rod in his hands. Legolas closed his eyes.

A sharp crack followed by a sharper intake of breath.

"You told me once that you did not want to be treated as a child," Ainan said quietly, twirling the rod idly between his long fingers. "I treat you as an adult. This is the adult world, Legolas- it is a painful one, harsh, unfeeling. But everyone must grow up sometime and leave their childhood behind- it is a part of life."

Legolas took a deep, shaky breath, clenching his hands tightly until his fingernails dug into his palms. He leaned his forehead against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his jaw so tight, his neck hurt.

"It is time you grow up. Cast aside those childish tears- they only make you weak and simple-minded. You are no longer a child. That part of your life has long been over." Ainan smiled slightly as he punctuated the remark with another stinging blow across prince's left shoulder blade.

"Now, you stand up straight as an adult and take the pain as your father would. As I used to," he murmured too low for the prince to hear. "And not a sound will you make. Not one."

Legolas gritted his teeth in preparation for the next blow but it still wrenched a startled gasp from his lips. His bare skin was no protection at all from the terrible rod and he was soon shaking, clawing at the stone wall until his fingers ached as he tried to find some outlet for the pain he couldn't release.

Ainan paused and without preamble, kicked Legolas' legs out from under him. The prince crumpled to the floor, shuddering as agony rocked through his small body.

"You told someone."

"I didn't tell anyone, Vedhir!" Legolas twisted away and scrambled away on hands and knees from his enraged uncle and froze as his sore back touched the wall. Ainan seized his nephew by the hair and craned his neck back to look into his eyes.

"There is nothing so poisonous as a little child who tells lies," Ainan warned softly, as he raised the bloodstained rod threateningly. "I know you told someone, Legolas. Telas knew or he would not have dared to accuse me of treachery." A sickening smile crossed the elf's face as he leaned over the immobile child on the floor. Legolas felt as though he were going to be sick.

"You… Telas…"

"I made sure he would never speak of such treachery again." Ainan's sharp eyes caught sight of something and he jerked Legolas into the firelight. Legolas shivered and looked away from those terrifying eyes, focusing on the outside window where he could see tree branches whipping against the window panes. The prince squirmed slightly as he felt cold fingertips brush his neck and a painful touch upon the bruises he knew to be there.

"Where did you get these?" Ainan asked suddenly. "These are not mine." Legolas shifted slightly, not quite knowing how to answer that. He shot a glance at his uncle's face. His surprise seemed genuine enough.

"And don't you dare lie to me," the older elf hissed, his grip tightening around the young prince's neck. Legolas flinched and stared at the ground.

"The elf… with dark hair. The one that followed me…" Legolas' already unsteady voice trailed off into silence. Ainan slapped him firmly across the face.

"The idiot! He should have finished with you!" Legolas could have sworn his uncle's eyes pin-wheeled with crimson sparks. But perhaps it was only a trick of the firelight.

Legolas believed he was staring into the eyes of a demon at that moment and no elf as his uncle seized him and shook him, his handsome face twisted with rage.

"He will not dare… he would not dare…" His voice rasped, low and fevered, his eyes unfocused, staring past the prince. Legolas tried to fight back, thinking his uncle surely must have gone mad. But his struggles only hauled in Ainan's attention and his blazing, silver-blue eyes snapped back to the younger elf, capturing the prince in his stare like a hawk's talons.

Legolas had his father's eyes.

Ainan felt something explode in his chest and his vision hazed red. His grip tightened agonizingly on Legolas' arm. Suddenly, he heard a sharp crack; Legolas whimpered and cried out in pain. His uncle released him and the young prince crumpled to the ground, his wrist twisted in an abominably wrong way.

Startled from his sudden anger, Ainan knelt beside his nephew and turned him roughly over. He touched the young one's forearm, eyeing the bruises and odd placement of his wrist. It was broken to be sure, he thought as he examined it carefully. Legolas moaned and twisted in his unconsciousness. Ainan cast a hurried glance about the room, making sure the door was shut tight and locked.

He lifted the prince in his arms and laid him down in the bedroom. Wasting no time, as the prince was beginning to wake, he popped the boy's wrist back into place with a painful crunch and ripped the filthy sheets apart to wrap a makeshift sling around the boy's wrist and shoulder to keep it immobile until he could find more suitable bandages.

When Legolas awoke, he still lay in his bed but draped in warm comforters though he could not remember how he had gotten there. Everything seemed so fuzzy. He tried to move but his head ached terribly and his mouth was dry. He felt a curious numbness in his right arm. He struggled to sit up but a strong hand and a spinning head forced him back into the pillows.

"Do not move. I have drugged you to dull the pain." A cool cloth touched his forehead, easing the heat he had not even felt until now. Legolas closed his eyes, thinking of his mother. Then as the voice in his mind registered, Legolas felt a sudden surge of helplessness and vulnerability. His eye snapped open as a dark shadow loomed over him. He struggled to sit up, fighting the drug that leadened his limbs and made his head spin.

"You are not helping your wrist," a fuzzy, disembodied voice said sternly from somewhere above him. Legolas felt a hard pressure on the unique point beneath his pointed ear and oblivion stole over him once more.

Red sunlight touched the tips of the bare trees, slanting through the emerald colored windows, irradiating everything in a burning orange. The sunlight alighted on a pale face beneath white sheets, still and quiet.

Thranduil sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It had been an impossibly long night and the dawn brought no relief. His body and mind ached with weariness but he knew he would find no sleep. Anariel, angel that she was, had gone to fetch him some sort of sustenance for the morning. Serkë too stood watchfully by, his eyes on the sleeping form of his father.

"The hunt will have to be canceled," Thranduil said quietly into the silence. The mutilation of his councilor had rattled him deeply.

"You must keep up pretenses, my lord," Serkë insisted though his own grief at his father's attack was certainly visible. His face was pale and pinched with fatigue as he crossed the room to stand beside his lord.

"What would the people think if their king canceled one of the greatest events of the year for seemingly no reason- for certainly we cannot let word of this get out? The last thing we wish is a panic. But they would lose all confidence in you, hir-nin. We cannot allow that to happen with the kingdom such as it is already." Thranduil nodded.

"I know." He smiled slightly at the younger elf. "You are as good as your father, my boy." Serkë bowed.

"Thank you. Simply be careful, my lord," Serkë cautioned softly. Thranduil smiled humorlessly.

"So everyone keeps telling me," he said dryly. He cleared his throat as Anariel walked into the room, bearing with her a steaming mug of tea which he drank gratefully.

"I shall leave by midmorning then." Thranduil lifted his eyes and pecked his wife on the cheek before lifting his dark blue cloak from the chair it had been draped over. He swung it about his shoulders as he left the room and walked slowly down the hallway.

The kingdom was most divided over the treaty of Lothlórien. Many had railed against the King's wish for an alliance with the other elven realm. Those elves who had given little support to the Last Alliance and had cost their woodland brethren so much in the end but suffered little themselves in the safety of their Lady's power.

Many like Eraeriel and her family were malcontent with Thranduil's rule. They wished for a high king, a stronger ruler who would expand the forests from the Misty Mountains to the Grey. They were elves who heeded ambition's lustful call and they had found among themselves a ruler befitting the title of King.

Thranduil knew that the rule of his kingdom was slipping from his fingers; it was like trying to hold a cupful of water in his hands and if he did not watch his step, he could become the next victim of attack. But he and his family were not all alone.

There were still those willing to fight for noble Oropher's son. Tirien, Sarithan and their men had always rallied to Thranduil's cause and he had no reason to doubt that they would not now. But were they enough? The King wasn't sure in whom he could place his trust anymore. Everywhere around him there seemed to be enemies and yet he could not see their faces.

"Leaving, muindor?" That voice snapped him back to the present and Thranduil looked up and nodded absently. Ainan smiled, looking surprisingly well-rested as he draped an arm about his sister's shoulders.

"We shall care for everything, dear brother. Don't you worry." Thranduil smiled slightly.

At least, he knew one thing.

He could always count on his family.

Legolas awoke early. For a long moment, he just lay there, staring at the frieze on his ceiling. Then memory flooded back and he closed his eyes as his uncle's pinched, angry face flashed before his eyes… the pain in his wrist. He tried to move the injured limb and found that he couldn't: a wooden splint trapped the bones in their aligned places. It had been well-wrapped and attached to his side by the sling around his shoulder. Legolas sighed and closed his eyes, fighting back the tears as the painful ache grew in his wrist. He knew he ought to try to go back to sleep. He wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep.

But, he couldn't.

Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the dark elf's fingers tightening around his neck, the shocking cold of the water, the tightness in his chest as he felt himself dying… or his uncle, the firelight on his face and the mad glint in his eyes as he struck the shaking young boy again and again with the cruel rod which Legolas could just see over the edge of his bed, leaning innocently against the corner. It was quiescent for now, abandoned by cruel hands. And his wrist hurt abominably now.

Tossing aside the sweat-dampened blankets, Legolas rose shakily to his feet, shivering as his bare feet touched the coldness of the icy flagstones. His arm ached dully in protest of his movement. Swallowing hard, he opened his bedroom door and peered out into his room.

It was empty.

He had to find his father- he couldn't put this off anymore.

With difficulty, Legolas managed to pull on a fresh tunic to cover the tender welts on his back one-handed and throw his cloak about his shoulders. There was no way he could lace up his boots so he simply went without them and walked swiftly barefoot down the orange sunlight-limned corridor. The stone felt terribly cold on the soles of his feet thought there lay a thin rug beneath them.

The prince looked out the window and frowned. There was a crowd in the courtyard. At least a score of elves and their horses stood ready, quivers and swords at their sides. Legolas frowned as he saw his father in their midst, his hair tied back in long braids and his leather hunting breeches replacing his royal robes. The prince hastened down the broad stairs, ignoring the chill wind that cut through his cloak like a knife.

Legolas looked up and saw Kirar walking towards him. He hadn't spoken to his

teacher since the day before on that night beside the river., the night Telas had been found Legolas thought he looked rather haggard though a leather quiver of green arrows peeked over his shoulder and his horse was saddled and ready for the hunt.

"If I might give you some advice before I take my leave, my prince," Kirar said softly. "Pay as little heed to those foreigners as you can." Legolas frowned slightly as he glanced in the direction that Haldir and his friends stood in, giving their farewells and blessings to the King.

"What do you mean?"

Kirar took a deep breath and it seemed suddenly to Legolas that his teacher didn't or wouldn't meet his eyes. As though the prince had done something wrong that the elder elf was ashamed of. He didn't even look or ask about the young prince's wrist. So deep in these troublesome thoughts was he, that Legolas almost didn't catch his teacher's next words.

"Have you not realized that strange things have been happening of late? Things that happened as soon as they arrived- dangerous things… Have as little to do with them as you can, my prince. I fear they mean you ill."

Without another word, his teacher stood and strode away.

Legolas stood rooted to the spot, bemused and troubled by words that seemed to so clearly reflect his uncle's. The hand on his shoulder startled him and the golden-haired prince jumped, spinning around to face Ainan himself who glanced down at him before taking his hand from the boy's shoulder. He nodded towards the elves gathered in the courtyard.

"Farewell your father, tôrion," he said softly. "For when shall you see him again?" he whispered in too low a tone for the prince to hear. Legolas shifted uncomfortably as Ainan looked down at him, his silver-blue eyes narrowing at the sling that held the child's wrist in place.

"And not a word to your mother," his uncle warned him. "It was an accident."

A false and rather shame-faced smile passed across his face as Anariel hurried towards them, her long, silver white hair whirling about her like a net of stars. Ainan intercepted her halfway with Legolas trailing numbly behind.

"I tried to dissuade him, sister- he would not have it and insisted upon riding in this bitter cold." He wrapped his arms around himself as though he suffered from such cold and shook his head grievously. "But the horse was spooked by some rabbit or creature and threw him. I raced to his aid- but apparently too late."

The Queen's fingers were pressed to her lips as she turned to her young son and gave him a gentle hug.

"Ion-nin, my poor darling," she soothed, stroking his hair gently. Legolas leaned into her, chancing a glance up at his uncle who glared back at him, daring him to speak truth. "And Lintedal usually has such an easy temper too." Anariel frowned slightly.

"Why would you ride so early, little one, when it is still so dark?"

"He wished to take his mind off of the unfortunate incident, sister," Ainan put in gently.

"Thank you, Ainan, I would Legolas speak for himself. What troubles you, ion-nin (my son)?" Legolas shot a glance from his uncle to his mother, looking uncomfortable as he touched the sling that bound his wrist.

"I-I fell off my horse," he stammered. "It was an accident. I just wanted to ride a little," he said, his eyes cast to the ground to hide his shame of lying before his mother. Anariel embraced him gently, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

"There, there, dear one. You are safe now." She kissed him tenderly on the cheek and caressed his face.

"Now, my brave boy. Go hug your father before he leaves."

Legolas did as asked and walked up to his father who dismounted to embrace him. His brow furrowed as he looked at his son's bandaged arm.

"What happened, Legolas?" he asked. The prince looked uneasily at his father.

"I-I broke my wrist, Ada, falling off my horse." The King frowned slightly, touching his son's injured arm gently.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little," Legolas answered bravely. This was his chance. He should tell his father now- everything, about Ainan, the plot… But paralyzing fear clove his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he tried to speak.

"Your Highness."

The King turned as Kirar reined his horse in beside him.

"It is time."

Thranduil sighed deeply, cursing this annual hunt that took him from his family. He knelt next to Legolas and placed his hands on his shoulders.

"I leave you in charge, my boy. Take care of your mother," Thranduil said, smiling fondly as he tousled his son's hair. Legolas dutifully nodded and clung to his father tightly despite the painful pressure on his wrist. He had a sudden chill of premonition: as though he would never look into those eyes again, eyes that so resembled his own.

Legolas watched his father and his guard gallop away underneath the dark trees and bitterly wished that he could go too and leave the darkness of the palace behind him.

It was too late.

He hadn't told him. He had failed.

His father was gone. The only barrier that had ever held his uncle at all in check.

"Where is Cálivien?" Rameil asked, his brow furrowed as he watched the King and his royal guard recede into the darkness of the forest, the clarion calls of their trumpets ringing back in farewell to those watching. Ancadal grinned conspiratorially.

"I have a feeling we shan't see him this early in the morning."

"Why wouldn't we?" Rameil asked, glancing sharply at the other soldier. The younger elf winked with a sly grin.

"Ah, I don't believe you had the good fortune of meeting the beauty on his arm last night. I do not think our commander will rise if the King himself were dead," Ancadal countered tactlessly.

"For shame, Ancadal. Do not speak of such things," Haldir chastened lightly, his grey eyes fixed on the small figure, huddled against the wind, his blond hair flying loose about his pale face. The older elf frowned slightly as he scrutinized the prince more closely.

Legolas caught his gaze, spun around and abruptly disappeared into the palace. Haldir's brow furrowed further in consternation. He had hardly seen his young friend at all over the past few days. The prince had kept more and more to himself and Haldir was starting to worry. And what had happened to his wrist? He turned to his friends and soldiers at his side.

"Keep your eyes open."

"What do you mean?" Ancadal asked. Haldir shook his head slowly, unsure quite how to answer that.

"I don't know. Something's not right." He had not seen or heard anything unusual last night. But the silence. The palace had been awfully quiet as though the stone had been holding its breath. There was a tension in the air now; he could feel it as surely as he could smell a storm coming.

"And find the commander. We're leaving soon," Haldir said quietly. Thranduil had finally agreed to the treaty and they could at last go back to Lothlórien. Haldir was glad to be going home for he missed it terribly but he wanted to at least say goodbye to Legolas before he left.

Following in his young friend's footsteps, he ducked out of the chill of the wintry midmorning and into the warmth of the palace.

Legolas could not help but feel a small sense of triumph. Not for himself, perhaps. Though his father had not been warned, at least he was gone and his treacherous brother-in-law could not get to him.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Legolas wondered if Haldir would follow him. He had seen the older elf's eyes on him and knew that look all too well; that's why he had fled. He didn't want anyone to ask him any more questions. Questions he couldn't answer.

The young prince scratched at the itchy sling that bound his wrist in place irritably. Legolas felt absolutely wretched as he walked slowly down the hall, his triumph vanishing like a candle being blown out. His fear returned as he realized that he was utterly alone. His mother couldn't help him and he dared tell no one else- not after last night.

He had known his father's councilor since he was very small and now his entire world seemed to crumbling down around him. With his father gone from the palace, what would stop Ainan from doing all of the things he promised?

Legolas knew he was a coward for not standing up to his uncle. And he felt guilt twist his insides, a gut-wrenching illness that refused to leave him alone. Telas had been hurt because of him. But now Telas knew. Telas knew how cruel his uncle was and maybe, he could tell the prince what he should do…

Changing direction, the prince walked off towards the healing ward which he figured was the most likely place Telas would have been taken last night.

The healers' ward was situated in the east wing of the palace. A bright, airy, cheerful place with long windows that cast streaming sunlight and dancing dust motes into the air, it was very quiet and smelled of dried herbs. Legolas looked around for it was not often that he came here and had not been in several years.

Legolas wrapped his cloak tighter about himself to hide the splint around his wrist as he walked up to the healer hesitatingly, inquiring where he might find his father's councilor. The woman smiled sympathetically at him and led him to a door at the end of the corridor on the right.

"He may not quite be up to it, my prince. His health is… not good," she said quietly. Legolas nodded, growing more anxious. What had his uncle done to his father's councilor? Feeling suddenly awkward and wondering if he should go back, Legolas pressed his free hand against the door and, taking a deep breath, he opened it and slid into the room after the healer.

Warm sunlight sliced across his back as he entered the room, looking around timidly. Though it was well-heated in the room, a roaring fire burned on the hearth and a figure wrapped in blankets sat in one of the winged chairs. Legolas felt tears clench the back of his throat and he swallowed hard.

Telas turned blank eyes to the young prince as Legolas sat beside him. The prince bit his lip, managing to keep his tears at bay as he flung himself into a chair and, looking upon the ravaged form of the councilor, his heart cried out for his friend. He suddenly stood and crouched by the older elf's side, looking up into his ageless face.

Slowly, Legolas pushed a piece of parchment and a quill towards the older elf.

"Can- can you tell me what happened?" he asked softly, his eyes pleading. "Please, Telas, I need to know."

The councilor looked long and hard at him before slowly taking up the quill and starting to write. Legolas bent close to the paper to read.

Darkness. The smooth, flowing elvish script spelled out horrors Legolas could not have possibly imagined. Chains. Lots of blood… pain… At this point, Telas' hand began to shake so violently the script ran together illegibly. A small, mewling sound of distress broke past his cracked lips and his head sank into one hand as he dropped the quill. The healer with all of her austere and compassionate nature laid a consoling hand on his shoulder.

"Now is not quite the right time for questions, my prince- he's still very traumatized."

Legolas nodded but he had to ask one more question.

"Could-could you excuse us just for a moment?" he asked. The healer hesitated but nodded slowly and with a last pat on Telas' shoulder, walked briskly out of the room shutting the door astutely behind her.

"I'm so sorry, Telas," Legolas burst out, his throat raw with tears that would not come. The elven councilor laid his hand on the prince's golden head, stroking it gently as he shook his head.

Slowly, Legolas sucked in a deep breath and willed himself to be calm. He looked hesitatingly up into the older elf's eyes, his throat constricted.

"Telas…" he began but his voice choked; he cleared it and gamely pressed on, shutting his eyes for a moment. "Was-was it my uncle- who did… this… to you?" He waited, half-fearing the answer, half-hoping that at last he would have someone on his side- someone to help him.

That hope died with the abruptness of a branch shattering in a lightning storm as Telas shook his head. The prince stood on shaking legs, his eyes downcast. Who else could it be?At that moment, the healer entered with a smile and set down a steaming tray of broth on the table. Legolas sidled out of the room, unable to keep a choked whimper from escaping his lips.

His last hope was gone.

"I told you," a sibilant voice spat from the shadows. Legolas whirled round to see Nárvenien staring wild-eyed at him. A small smile spread across her pale features. Legolas noticed that her lip was bloody and for some reason that really bothered him. Save for her next words…

"Do you think Telas screamed before they cut out his tongue?" she hissed vindictively. Legolas recoiled in horror but anger blossomed in his veins too. How dare she treat this like a game! How dare she be so satisfied with herself and with others' pain!

"How dare you!" he spat as he shook with quiet anger, his hands unconsciously balling themselves into fists as. "How dare you."

Without thinking, his hand snapped out but a strong hand caught a hold of his before it met the girl's cheek. Legolas looked up sharply to see Haldir looking down at him, an unfathomable expression in his dark eyes.

Nárvenien leapt backwards in shock. Legolas, himself, was surprised by his own actions. Before he could think of anything to do or say, the woman whirled away from him and ran down the corridor. The prince stood momentarily frozen, feeling so suddenly and horribly guilty that it twisted his insides and for a moment, he wondered if he was going to be sick.

Haldir slowly released him, still looking at him with that odd expression on his face. Legolas thought he looked rather sick himself and the young prince felt shame and embarrassment burn the tips of his ears.

He couldn't stay here.

Whirling round, he nearly ran into the healer who sidled out of Telas' room.

"Prince Legolas," the healer narrowed her eyes at him thoughtfully. "Do you need me to have a look at that?" She pointed at his wrist which Legolas realized, too late, had slipped from underneath his cloak. He jerked his mantle around his injured arm and shook his head.

"No, thank you, ma'am," he said hastily. "It is all taken care of." The woman frowned but nodded her acquiescence.

"All right. Let me know if it troubles you- we have plenty of herbs to spare." Legolas nodded absently, already halfway down the corridor.

"Legolas!" The prince heard Haldir call out behind him and walked faster. But the older elf's long strides quickly caught up with him and cut him off so he was forced to halt abruptly. Haldir gripped the younger elf's shoulders to keep him from sidling around him.

"Legolas, what is going on?" he asked quietly, his silver eyes narrowed shrewdly. The young prince looked nearly frantic to get away and his blue eyes darted around nervously.

"Please, Haldir," he pleaded. "I just don't want to talk about it." Stepping swiftly back, Legolas broke the other elf's grip and darted around him.

Haldir could only watch as the young prince pushed away from him and vanished around the corner.

Chapter Text

The disconsolate darkness of the winter nights surrounded the palace like a shroud. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and had sunk to a bone-numbing chill even the Elves were beginning to feel. Torches were constantly relit by attentive servants in the main corridors while the unused ones sank into cold darkness. Fires blossomed in every room and antechamber. It had even begun to snow outside the very walls of the palace itself. The white flakes could be glimpsed now, whirling against the dark veins of the windows in the wind which moaned bitterly through the chinks in the stone. Such a thing had not happened in a very long time and for the woman who paced the lonely halls, it did not bode well.

Anariel wandered through the palace, her heart heavy with troubled thoughts. Now that her lord husband had departed and Ainan assumed control in his stead, there was little for her to do. The flagstones felt chill under her delicately shod feet as she paced through the corridor absently.

But her mind was not on the cold or the emptiness of the halls around her.

She looked up at the arched ceiling, ornamented with a thousand engravings of dark green vines, entwined with the living stone- lost in the shadows above. It was always dark here now and the bruised clouds merely grew more numerous and covered the entire forest with an unbroken roof for miles. It was odd how the weather seemed to so reflect the tones of the palace.

Gloomy. Moody.

The palace seemed… darker somehow, ominous. No one sported about in the courtyard any longer and it was very quiet. A brooding silence had descended upon the homeland of the elves with the departure of its King. The laughter sounded too forced. The whispers- conspiratorial. Anariel shook her head as though to banish such thoughts but she could not and her heart darkened. She looked up sharply as a flash of gold caught her eye.

Her brother strode towards her, the torchlight glancing off his long, honey-colored hair. He smiled upon seeing her- which she did not return, her brow still drawn in sombre thought. His expression hitched slightly as he touched her cheek gently and she flinched away from the contact, her own fingers brushing her bruised face.

"I am sorry about that you know," he said softly. She looked up at him, her blue eyes blank and inscrutable.

"So you said yesterday."

"And I meant it then too," he said, his silver-blue gaze seemingly honest. His eyes hardened slightly and he looked away from her.

"What did you tell Thranduil?"

She shook her head.

"I didn't. It was an accident I didn't feel was worth mentioning." He chuckled soundlessly.

"Good girl."

"What do you want, Ainan?" she asked coldly, not liking the reminder of her helplessness against him.

His eyes flickered with frost though his smile never wavered.

"You would do well to be more courteous to me, muinthel (sister)."

"I am still the Queen, Ainan," she reminded him quietly. His answering smile was distinctly deprecating and she bristled inwardly.

"Of course," he acquiesced with a nod and a slight bow which she thought mocked her, straightened and swept off. Anariel watched him for a long moment, her eyes burning in her pale face before she turned her back firmly on him and resumed her silent walk.

A glint of steel shone red in the torchlight.

Ainan stopped abruptly, his gaze straight ahead. Swift as a viper, he lunged and caught the figure in the shadows by his wrist.

"Be patient, my over-eager friend," Ainan cautioned his grip like a vise around the other elf's narrow wrist. Tindómëtir glanced up at him with a stricken expression then his eyes hardened as he glared at the Queen's retreating back. The dagger in his hand shook and Ainan tightened his grip.

"Tis a thin wire we tread now. We must be careful." His silver-blue eyes caught and held those dark ones until the other elf flinched.

"Be iest lin, hir nin. (As you wish, my lord)," Tindómëtir yielded, humbly averting his eyes. Slowly, Ainan released him and the dark elf sheathed his dagger with a snap and a scowl as he still stared down the corridor until Ainan redirected his attention.

"Have you heard ought of Thranduil's guards?" The dark elf shook his head dutifully.

"Nothing." Ainan smiled wickedly.

"Excellent. And what of our other venture?"

A truly evil smile flittered across Tindómëtir's mask like features.

"Well, my lord. They will never find him… until it is too late at least." Ainan's face registered distaste. Sometimes he thought that the other elf enjoyed this a little too much. But he did his job well. The light-haired elf abruptly turned away but paused and glanced back over his shoulder at the dark elf who stood as still as stone, watching him.

"Obey me and you might just live through this, Tindómëtir." With a tight smile, the dark elf bowed his head in humility.

"As always, my lord."

Legolas stumbled as he tried to keep up with the long strides of his uncle. There was no one in the halls. Nothing at all and that feeling and the silence pressed upon the young prince's ears, a heavy weight added to the one he already had to bear. Legolas knew where they were going and he shook with fear though his heart burned hot as the small triumph in him resurfaced.

"Father's gone! You can't hurt him now!" Kill was too strong a word for him at the moment. Ainan's answering smile chilled the young prince's blood and his throat suddenly seized up as they halted.

"My boy, your father is in the middle of the forest, alone and unprotected save for a few guards. Anything can happen." His twisted smile widened as he cradled the young elf's cheek in his hand.

"And even if your father were safe, where does that leave you, hmm?" His gaze fell pointedly to the splint around the boy's wrist.

"You cannot even speak the truth to your own mother," Ainan crowed softly, resuming his walk down into the deepest parts of the palace. "You are afraid, nephew- a craven creature of falsehoods and lies!" He threw that last like a javelin and it sank in deep.

Legolas bowed his head, knowing that his uncle spoke the truth.

Ainan paused again and found the chink in the stone that would slide back to reveal the hated hole that yawned up before him. Legolas clutched his arms to his chest fearfully, staring into that darkness with abject terror which overrode even the pain in his wrist. His uncle stared down at him with a cold, contemptuous look.

"Your life means less than the lowest spider spawn in this forest. Remember that, little prince. You are nothing! A weakling and a coward."

Legolas knew he was right. He was not fit for any company. What he suffered was all of his fault. He had let it go on for so long! He should have done something… but he was too afraid, even now, to admit that things had gotten way out of hand. He was too afraid… and he hated himself for it.

He curled himself up into a little ball on the cold stone floor inside the alcove with his uninjured arm draped over his knees and his disheveled golden head fell between his shoulders. He did not notice when his uncle pulled the panel to with a malicious smile of satisfaction alighting his cruel face. Legolas shivered in the darkness and damp, squeezing his eyes shut against the fearful specters that loomed up at him out of the deepest recesses of shadows.

But the prince did not cry.

He had not tears enough for the sorrow breaking his soul.

"My King?"

Thranduil fingered his bow absently lost in thought. He should not have left his kingdom, he knew it. The look on Legolas' face when he had said he was leaving had wrenched the Elvenking's heart. He hated to leave his son and his wife for something as trivial as a hunt. And now that he was alone, with only his guard around him, he could admit to himself that something was not right. Telas had been attacked! And what had he done about it?

Gone hunting because protocol demanded it.

Thranduil snorted unconsciously, earning an odd look from the guard who rode beside him. He ignored it, his thoughts in turmoil. Ainan, he knew, didn't trust him and most likely plotted against him. Telas had warned him of as much- and so had his wife. Now they were alone in the palace with none to protect them. And yet, the guards were there… and they would protect the royal family with their lives- if they still answered to his command. Thranduil sighed. The worst part of this whole affair was he didn't know in whom he could place his trust.

Even the stone faces of the guards around him he could imagine concealing foul plots and his uneasiness increased.

"My lord Thranduil!"

The Elvenking started and looked up sharply to see his one of his guard looking at him. He smiled guiltily.

"I'm sorry. I was distracted. Has she been found?" he asked of the white hind they hunted.

"Yes, my lord. She's grazing a short way ahead in the trees."

Thranduil eased his horse ahead slowly and took careful aim at the white glimmer he could just see under the dim shadows of the trees. But something creaked overhead, startling the deer into sudden flight. The Elvenking shook his head and let his draw drop as the white doe bounded away. Hang protocol! He had to protect his family! He turned his steed and met the astonished looks of his guard.

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "I have to get back to the palace."

"My lord?" Kirar questioned with a tilt of his head. He nudged his horse forward, reining in beside the Elvenking.

"Something is not right, Kirar," Thranduil answered his inquiring look. "The very forest screams of it. I feel it- and I can't help thinking that the real danger is back home. We cannot linger here. As soon as we get back, I will let the elven people know of the danger they may be in. Perhaps, there will be some answer that I can give to ease their fears."

Kirar's brow furrowed.

"Is it truly that serious, my king? Perhaps, we only-" But a shake of Thranduil's head silenced him.

"No. I know we must go back."

One of the guards suddenly spurred his horse forward and jerked in the saddle beside the Elvenking. Thranduil frowned and reached out to touch the soldier's shoulder.

"Brethien, what is it?"

The guard's mouth moved but no sound came out as he slumped sideways across the neck of the Elvenking's steed. Thranduil swallowed hard as he saw the black-shafted arrow sticking out of his guard's back.

"Arrows!" Kirar shouted needlessly as a torrent of deadly hail rained down upon them. One pierced the King's saddlebag through. Thranduil felt his arm seized and his horse broke into a wild run, the surprised shouts of his men and the thump of arrows striking flesh thumping in his ears.

Immediately, the darkness of the forest plunged in around them and the horses galloped through the undergrowth, stumbling over tree roots and ice encrusted streambeds. The snow fell thickly here and the drifts had piled against the trees near knee height of the horses.

Suddenly, the Elvenking's horse screamed and crashed over onto its side, flinging its rider. Thranduil landed painfully on his side and his head cracked against an exposed tree root. Then there were hands on him, dragging him upright. The Elvenking struggled against his unseen assailants as his vision blurred out of focus.

"Your Majesty!" Kirar's voice hauled him back from the darkness clouding his senses. Thranduil shook himself and pressed a hand to his ribs which throbbed with pain from his fall. Blinking, the Elvenking looked up into his friend's concerned face. Then his eyes fell to his horse, thrashing feebly as blood oozed from the arrow wound in her heaving side. The elf-king shook his head in wordless horror.

The trees creaked above them and it was then that Thranduil realized how quiet it was. They were alone. Only Kirar stood beside him. The Elvenking reached for his own quiver and bow as he saw something skitter through the trees above them but his hands closed on empty air. His bow had been shattered beneath his horse as she fell and his quiver fell from his shoulders useless.

Kirar's face was grim and one cheek bloodied where a grasping branch had sliced him. His eyes flickered from deep pool of shadow to deep pool of shadow, his hand tightly gripping his blade. Thranduil glanced at him uneasily drawing the only blade he had brought with him: his long knife.

Something hissed through the branches and only too late did the Elvenking realize it was an arrow. He was thrown violently backwards and stumbled against a tree trunk. Pain exploded through his shoulder and he gasped against it, clutching at the shaft.

His vision wavered and the cold darkness overwhelmed him.

Forgive me, Anariel.

Legolas started from sleep and immediately groaned softly. Every muscle in his body had seized up and ached with a bone-gnawing cold. His clothes were damp from the moisture on the walls and ceiling and his stomach ached with hunger. Rising slowly to a sitting position, he tried to stand and fell, waiting for the circulation of blood to restore in his tingling limbs.

Then he realized he was not alone and threw himself backwards as a flickering light poured in from the small entrance, sliding over his grubby face and making his eyes water after so long in the dark. He held up a hand to shield his eyes from the painful light and squinted up at the figure in the doorway.

Fear flared through him as he looked up into Tindómëtir's glittering eyes, the hard planes of his face shadowed by the unsteady torchlight.

"Time to go, tithen (little one)," the dark elf smiled.

He was impeccably dressed in a white silk tunic, threaded with dark green embroidery of vines. A blue velvet mantle draped his elegant shoulders, sweeping the ground as he moved. The firelight gleamed off the gold ring on his finger and the pendant at his throat and glittered on his honey-colored hair as he faced the beautiful woman standing across from him.

"How can you defeat him? Thranduil is well-protected and the people's hearts are ever turned towards he and the Queen." Ainan smiled.

"The people care not as long as their own lives are undisturbed. They will accept me as their King." the elf said softly, daring her to laugh at him. "I too am a prince of Mirkwood." Eraeriel smiled and swayed closer, touching his face with gentle hands. The dark cloud of her hair framed her face like a veil and only her glittering eyes like night-shrouded stars shone in the dim lantern light.

"Allow me by your side, my lord, or should I say 'Your Majesty?'" Ainan's handsome face darkened in disapproval.

"Tis bad luck to call me such before the deed is done." Her coy smile faltered and fell as she looked up into his silver-blue eyes- cold as daggers. Ainan smiled chillingly as he cupped the subdued woman's chin in his long, white hands.

"Only a fool trusts a woman, my dear. And I am no fool."

She fell to her knees and looked up at him, her face pale in the moonlight as he stretched a hand towards her. She enfolded his bejeweled hand in hers and took it to her cheek, pressing a kiss to his fingers.

"Hir-nin, (my lord,)" she whispered. "Command me. I shall do whatever you ask."

"Of course you will," he said quietly, a dangerous grin lighting his face. He tilted her chin up to his eyes and raised her to her feet.

"The people await their King," he said into the silence with a wicked smile.

A rippling murmur spread over the crowd gathered in the palace courtyard as a figure appeared on the stairs above their heads. The elf raised his hands for silence and the people quieted almost instantly.

"Hail, my Good People! I come before you with most desperate news! Need has driven me to speak at last to you against the wishes of the King."

"He sought to deceive you, Good People. Pretending that all was well when in truth, there is trouble in this Kingdom. Treason wafts through the air like a foul cloud. In whom can we place our trust? Even your King dared not be honest with you- could not tell you the worst of what was done in this very palace. You perhaps have not heard of the attack on the King's councilor the night before?" Shocked murmurs and outraged exclamations met his ears and his expression darkened, hiding a small, satisfied smile.

"We should never have trusted these outsiders," Ainan continued, his honey tongued voice spilling over the ears of the elves who listened raptly. His silver-blue gaze flickered to where the elves of Lothlórien stood beneath the flying buttresses at the edge of the courtyard.

"They whose Queen lives in secrecy and sorcery in her hidden forest- allies of Kinslayers!"

"That lying-!"

"Ancadal," Haldir said sharply, making the name a command as more than several pairs of eyes flickered in their direction. The younger elf bowed his head in acknowledgment but his face was suffused with righteous anger. Haldir's face was grim and still, his hand tightly gripping his sword. Rameil was silent, his eyes fixed on the speaking figure.

"Thranduil trusted them- I fear to his downfall."

He seemed so humble and spoke so eloquently, their thoughts turned towards his.

Why hadn't Thranduil warned them? What had he to hide? What had happened? Their Regent promised them safety, protection, honesty and a vanishing of their problems.

Lóthmir's father shook his head, his expression one of utter disgust as he clasped his son's shoulder. He knew more about this affair than he had ever wished to and he cast his gaze to the flagstones in thought and horror.

Where was the King?

"How many more, Good People?" Ainan asked, raising his voice so that it echoed in every corner. "How many more- your soldiers, your friends, your children- will suffer before Thranduil is done and the Kingdom is brought down with him?"

Tirien and others looked up sharply as a clatter of hooves reached his ears and another murmur spread through the crowd like a pebble dropped into a still pond. The elves parted for the horse to pass through, its sides heaving and froth-lathered. The elf upon it looked, possibly, even worse. He rode right up the steps and collapsed at Ainan's feet, shaking on the stone stairs.

"We-we were attacked. They came from the trees," Kirar's tired voice gasped though it carried strangely through the ranks of the crowds and his words were repeated by those in front.

"The King… is gone."

Ainan squeezed Kirar's shoulder consolingly as he knelt on the steps, cradling the fallen soldier in his arms.

"He bears grievous news, my people," Ainan said quietly though his voice was heard by every elf in the courtyard. "The King's guard has been found- slain by brigands. The King is… gone." He paused for a moment as though overwhelmed by emotion.

Behind him, he heard Anariel inhale sharply. Legolas stood stricken, his face white in the orange glow of the candles. He looked cleaner than he had and a new tunic replaced the filthy one he had worn before. Tindómëtir stood attentively behind him, his dark gaze fixed on the speaker.

Ainan stood slowly, Kirar's blood staining his hands and robe. His long hair whipped around his face in the high wind.

"Do not fear!" he cried out to those whose faces were stricken. Women held their hands to their mouths with their husbands' arms wrapped around them. "He will be avenged! But we must see first to our needs. It seems that fate has granted us good fortune. We can start again and rise from the ashes of this tragedy- to greet the dawning of a new era!"

Ainan swept his hands out towards them, his eyes flickering in the torchlight, his gaze steady, unwavering, a reassuring smile alighting his face.

"Bring me your grievances as your King and I promise you the safety of your children and the fulfillment of promises too long left unfulfilled."

Their hearts were stirred by his words.

The flames of sedition had been fanned into a full-blown blaze. The younger ones, too young to remember old grievances, nodded their heads in agreement for his words seemed fair to them.

Haldir shook his head in despair, turned and walked back into the shadows of the hall, his heart and his steps heavy.

Legolas felt his heart stop beating at his uncle's words and he closed his eyes as Anariel turned to her ever-faithful guard, her face white and stricken.

"Is this true?"

Tirien looked up at her with wide, sorrowful eyes, horror clearly written on his features.

"We searched for them, hiril-nin (my lady) when they did not meet our other huntsmen near the river. The guards were found- slain by black arrows." The Royal Guard captain's face was very pale. "Of the King… there was no sign." Anariel's shaking fingers covered her mouth even as she enfolded her son in a tight embrace.

Legolas' face was utterly stricken.

His uncle had succeeded…

Lóthmir and Rinniad ran up to him, their faces as aghast as his own, he imagined. Rinniad wore the livery of a sentry of the palace, an honor just recently bestowed on him but he didn't care about that now.

"Valar, Legolas, I'm so sorry!" he gasped out, his eyes wide.

"Don't worry, Legolas, my father will find him," Lóthmir said stoutly with a faithful glance up at Tirien.

"If he's still alive," Rinniad put in despondently. The taller elf cuffed him.

"Don't be an idiot of course he's still alive!"

Legolas smiled slightly as his friends tried to reassure him but he knew better. He looked up as his uncle reappeared beside them his face a mask of sorrow but Legolas could have sworn he saw a gleam of triumph in those silver-blue eyes as Ainan enfolded his sister in his arms.

Sighing softly, Legolas looked away from his friends' concerned gazes and touched his fingertips to the cold stone, shuddering as he felt its chill- more to his heart than his skin. The living stone whispered to him. Though he was no dwarf, living beneath the stone had granted Legolas a small knowledge of their language- as he had of the trees.

The stones whispered of their secrets- of cold-blooded deeds, evil schemes and travesties unspeakable not with words but with senses- anger, outrage, disgust. These emotions whirled so swiftly through the young elf he pulled away, frightened and overwhelmed by the swollen flood that threatened to drown him.

"Legolas, you all right?" Rinniad's voice called him back to himself and the young prince shook himself, glancing at his friend, unsmilingly.

"Fine."

Chapter Text

Haldir stopped dead as he felt an unfamiliar hand on his shoulder. He turned quickly to see Ainan staring down at him with nearly palpable dislike- bordering on hatred. The intensity of his gaze shook the younger elf and the grip on his shoulder was tight. Haldir flashed a sharp look at the elf. Ainan caught it and immediately looked surprised at himself, releasing the elf and stepping away lightly.

"I am remiss, commander," he said, bowing his head apologetically, his fair face falling into an inscrutable mask. "I merely wish to inform you that the border guards have reported that the snow has far encroached our borders as of late. You and your small company could not hope to win through the drifts. Certainly not when there are dangerous creatures about: wolves and spiders…"

"Brigands," Haldir put in helpfully, his slight smile distinctly cool. Noticing his look, a dark smile lifted the corners of Ainan's lips.

"Indeed."

Haldir was the first to break the tense silence that had fallen.

"We cannot leave until we have found the fourth member of our party, my lord," Haldir replied stiffly, his eyes cold as marble as he remembered the elf's condemning words.

"Ah, yes. I shall send someone to aid you in your search promptly," the other elf answered smoothly, his impassive eyes betraying nothing. Bowing his head in self-dismissal to the queen's brother, Haldir turned away and walked briskly towards the door, passing quickly into the cool night air beyond. The encounter had slightly unsettled him- especially the look in Ainan's eyes.

Something had gone wrong. He could feel it.

"My lord Haldir!" a voice hailed him. "Sir!" The elf turned at the sound of his name to see one of the young sentries, Rinniad he thought, running towards him, clutching the stitch in his chest. Haldir frowned at the ashen pallor of the elf's face and reached out a hand to steady him.

"What is it, Rinniad? What's wrong?" The elven guard batted aside the Lórien elf's helping hand and seized his wrist instead.

"Come quickly!"

The urgency and blind terror in the elf's voice frightened Haldir and he quickened his gait to match the frenetic pace of the other elf as they all but ran down the corridor and down the long flights of stone stairs that led into the bowels of the fortress.

"What is it?" Haldir asked again, a growing knot forming in the pit of his stomach but the guard merely shook his head and continued to bound down the stairs like a startled deer. He led the Lórien captain through cavernous halls and dank hallways where moisture dripped steadily from the walls and the smell of mould and damp filled his nostrils.

A crowd of soldiers had gathered around a group of more than four score of such barrels. Haldir's eyes narrowed in the dim light as he espied the sage green fletching of arrows. The barrels were not empty after all but seemed to be filled with weapons of all kinds: fine steel swords in black wood scabbards, bows unstrung and packed tightly together, thousands of steel tipped arrows that gleamed as they were drawn out and examined. They were all wet too as though they had been taken from the river itself.

Pieces of wood crunched and shifted under the two elves' boots as they approached the group with the insignia of the royal crest on their left shoulders. Rinniad approached one whose embroidered green leaf proclaimed him as the Captain of the Royal Guards.

Haldir caught a few whispered words as the guard captain questioned an elf who appeared to be the head butler- he looked white and shaken.

"It's my job to make sure the wine is ready for table… when I opened it…"

"He is the captain… from Lórien," Rinniad interrupted, explaining quickly to Tirien as he tried to catch his breath. The elf's eyes flickered to Haldir and the Lórien elf felt pierced by that sorrowful gaze.

"We have something that belongs to you," he said gravely, leading the elves to a dark corner. Haldir felt a deepening uneasiness clutch at his heart. The feeling only increased as the whispers around him grew louder and Rinniad dropped back uneasily. He finally stepped up to a lone barrel that stood apart from the others. Tirien nodded solemnly to it. Feeling sick, Haldir walked up to it, peered in and felt as though his heart had stopped beating.

Cálivien lay folded within the cramped, airtight space. His wrists were tied together and wedged between his knees. But that was not the worst part: his eyes were open, staring… lifeless. The great wound in his chest where a sword had been clearly plunged was congealed with thick blood, which stiffened the elf's shredded tunic. He had been dead for days and the stench was nearly overpowering.

Other, smaller wounds lacerated the elf's back and shoulders and his limbs were hideously contorted in the tight space. Small animals that lived in the cellars had found him as well during the time he had been missing. Cálivien had obviously suffered greatly before surrendering his spirit to Mandos' Halls.

"How-" Haldir cleared his parched throat and tried again as he attempted to wrench his gaze away from the horrific sight but found himself unable to. "How could this have happened?" Rinniad simply shook his head, bewilderingly running his fingers through his hair. He looked sick.

"That's just it, my Lord. No orc has been seen inside these borders for more than a hundred and fifty years- and never in the palace itself. But clearly the blade was of orcish origin." Haldir could not bear to see that empty look in his friend's eyes anymore and motioned to the two elves beside him.

"Will you get him out? Please." Obligingly, the elves reached in, carefully sliced the ropes that bound the elf inside the barrel and attempted to lift him out. But his body was stiff with rigor mortis and it became too difficult to wrest him from the barrel. Finally, Tirien hacked the wood to pieces so they could lift him out more easily without dishonoring him.

Haldir helped them lower the elf gently to the ground. As he looked into his friend's lifeless eyes, he wondered briefly. Did they not say that the killer's image could be seen reflected in a victim's eyes? But he could see nothing. Cálivien's green eyes were empty, devoid of the life that had been captured behind them. His face was frozen in a horrible mask of terror and Haldir realized with a sinking feeling that several of the planks of the barrel were dented and scarred.

Cálivien had still been alive when he'd been forced into that barrel.

Haldir frowned and leaned a little closer, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve against the stench of decay. A great deal of blood matted the elf's hair on the side of his face and Haldir, with shaking fingers, edged the unkempt strands aside a few inches. When he saw what had been done, he groaned and leaned back, closing his eyes to keep the bile from rising out of his throat.

The killer had taken the elf's ear.

Trailing his fingers over the slain elf's eyes, Haldir stood and straightened to see Ancadal and Rameil beside him, their faces as stricken as his own, he imagined.

"What happened?" Rameil asked incredulously, his eyes wide, pleading Haldir not to tell him what he already knew.

"Cálivien is dead," Haldir said softly, his voice surprisingly steadier than he felt. He cleared his throat. "Slain… by orcs so it seems."

But that did not sound quite right. There was something unsettling about the entire affair. Those cuts were too precise- too quick. The elven palace was too well guarded, inside and out. There was no way any orc could have slipped inside. And how had he been shoved in that barrel? Something was amiss Haldir glanced down at the lifeless body at his feet. What happened to you, my friend? Solemnly, Rameil removed his cloak and draped it over the still body, hiding the horrific wounds from sight.

"I am sorry for your loss," Tirien said, his eyes cast to the shrouded figure at their feet. "We shall care for him…"

"No," Haldir said firmly. "We shall. It is our duty." The mention of duty stirred the two elves beside him and both Ancadal and Rameil bent and lifted their fallen comrade, bearing him away towards the dank stairs. Tirien halted them with a word.

"If you do not mind taking the back stairs…" he stumbled over his words, slightly embarrassed. "The last thing we wish is a panic." The two elves nodded though their hearts twisted. Their friend deserved better than this! Skulking up the back stairs like some wretched criminal or a scullery servant!

Haldir turned away from the shocked and horrified gazes of the guards and closed his eyes, opening them immediately as the sight of his mangled friend flashed before his eyes.

What were they going to do now?

Rinniad looked white and shaken as he plopped into an armchair beside his two friends. His chest heaved slightly and his eyes were wide with horror. Both of his friends looked at him, their fair faces troubled.

"What happened, Rinniad?" Lóthmir asked.

"We found weapons in some of the barrels. After Telas was attacked, Captain Tirien said he'd found a passage of sorts in the back of the little room they found him in- it led to this little storage chamber where all these barrels were piled up. There were weapons inside- swords, arrows, like there was going to be a war or something," he trailed off, his brow furrowed thoughtfully.

Legolas said nothing. He knew who those weapons belonged to but he did not know their purpose. Why would his uncle have weapons in the cellars?

"That's not all," Rinniad said softly, his eyes haunted. Lóthmir frowned at him.

"Well, out with it, mellon. You look as though you've seen a ghost!"

The other elf swallowed hard against a suddenly dry throat before speaking again.

"One of the Lothlórien elves was found- slain in the cellars not long ago," he said shakily. "They murdered him." Legolas leapt to his feet.

"Who?"

"Who's 'they'?" Lóthmir asked simultaneously, his expression one of apprehension and fear. But Legolas gripped his friend's arms hard.

"Rinniad, who was it? Who did they find?" he asked urgently, his eyes wide, pleading. It couldn't be Haldir! Please, not Haldir! Rinniad looked up into his friend's white face.

"I- I don't know. I don't know his name." He looked away, ashamedly. "I-I got sick after they found him- it was horrible, Legolas!"

The prince sank numbly into his chair, his eyes huge in the flickering torchlight in Lóthmir's room where they had decided to meet. Legolas' heart thumped frenetically in his chest and he abruptly jumped up.

"Legolas?"

His two friends leapt up after him and followed him out into the corridor.

Legolas hadn't the slightest idea of where he was going but he knew he had to find Haldir.

Haldir could not have been the one to have fallen! He couldn't!

Legolas, with his friends trailing after him, searched the hallway frantically, searching for a familiar flash of silvery hair or grey. The only livery he could see was that of the Mirkwood guard.

The King's guards were still searching the palace for any signs of orcs or other things but the prince hadn't heard a word from his mother or anyone else. Even his uncle was occupied with other matters which filled Legolas with relief. His wrist still hurt. But that did nothing to ease his anxiety now.

He looked up suddenly as he caught sight of a grey glimmer in the doorway which led down steeply spiraled stairs to the cellars. Two elves were carrying a makeshift bier with difficulty as though it were heavy.

Neither of them which Legolas recognized.

With a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, Legolas licked dry lips and stepped forward. Rinniad stopped behind him, looking very white but Legolas did not turn. The two elves stopped as they spotted the prince and bobbed into as elegant a bow as they could so laden. Legolas shook his head firmly, his eyes fastened on the grey cloth draped over something lumpy underneath.

"How may we be of service to you, young prince?" the raven-haired elf asked, his face composed while the other looked as though he would fall to pieces if Legolas so much as glanced at him. His gaze was riveted on the grey cloak.

"Tell- tell me who lies beneath that?" Legolas asked softly, almost afraid to ask, afraid to hear the answer. Surprisingly, it was the other, younger elf who answered, his voice shaking with raw emotion.

"He- he was our commander- Cálivien."

Legolas staggered back, nearly falling, his heart thrumming with overwhelming relief and guilt. Haldir was still alive… but another had died because of him. It was all his fault! Legolas thought back to when he had been searching for his father. That must have been it. Ainan had seen him talking to Cálivien and thought that… what? What did Ainan think Legolas had told the guard? He wondered for a moment. His uncle was cruel, yes. But would he resort to murder? Especially another elf?

Yes. To keep his secret safe, he would, Legolas felt suddenly sure. His friend's voice broke through the turmoil of his thoughts as the two Lórien elves moved off with their burden.

"Legolas, are you all right?" Lóthmir asked, concern in his gaze. "What's wrong?" But the elven prince shook his head as he mentally sighed with relief.

"Nothing."

He could not help but feel selfishly happy that his friend was yet alive and had not been the one to fall to his uncle's hands. For he knew his uncle had murdered that elf- who else could or would have?

"They should never have come here," Rinniad said softly, pulling the prince from his thoughts as he watched the two Lórien elves disappear around the corner. Legolas shot a look up at his friend which Riinad returned with a level stare.

"You heard your uncle, Legolas! You can't trust them- they're outsiders. For all you know they could be tra-"

"That's enough!" Legolas protested. Rinniad looked up at him in shock. The young prince's eyes flashed with cobalt fire.

"You don't them- any of them! Do not speak evil of them until you know them."

"Legolas knows of them," Lóthmir said quietly. "You've been in their company have you not, mellon?" he asked, his tone merely questioning. Legolas nodded tersely.

"How do you know they haven't anything to do with your father's absence?" Rinniad shot back.

"Well," Legolas paused. He couldn't explain that. He wasn't even sure himself. If the Lady Haldir served was indeed a Kinslayer… Legolas shook his head, refusing to believe his uncle's lies.

"They would not betray my father," he insisted at last. "They wouldn't slay their own."

But even he could not prevent the tremor of uncertainty that ran through his voice.

Rinniad merely shook his head, his brow furrowed with deep mistrust as he walked away. Lóthmir shook his own head in bemusement as he turned to his friend.

"Do you really believe your own words, mellon nin (my friend)?" Legolas sighed deeply as he sat down on the uppermost step leading towards the cellars. He shivered slightly and looked back up at friend.

"I don't know anything anymore, Lóthmir." My life is falling down around me. Legolas felt his friend's hand descend on his shoulder as Lóthmir knelt beside him, looking deep into his face with vivid green eyes.

"You know, mellon, that I'm here for you."

Legolas smiled slightly.

"Iston. (I know.) Hannon le, mellon nin (Thank you, my friend.)" Lóthmir clapped him on the shoulder in response.

"Get some rest, Legolas- you look exhausted."

The prince nodded absently as his friend walked away to his own rest. But, this made him feel more alone than ever. He didn't dare tell his friend about anything that he was feeling right now. He had no idea how far his uncle would go if the elf prince ever told anyone about what Ainan did to him. Fear chilled him and Legolas shivered miserably. There was no one he could turn to.

Legolas absently touched his bandaged wrist which was beginning to throb again- it hadn't stopped but it grew more painful as the day wore on. The young elf pricked up his ears and tensed as the slight fall of footsteps reached his ears, coming up the cellar stairs. He scrambled to his feet but relaxed slightly as he saw Haldir's face.

Legolas thought the older elf looked tired and pale. Tried. He opened his mouth to speak to him but Haldir saw him first. The Lórien elf's brow furrowed slightly as he took in the sling bound about the young elf's shoulder. Despite his own deep sense of loss, he was concerned.

"I meant to ask you what happened?" he asked. Legolas glanced at his arm.

"Oh, I-I fell off my horse." Haldir blinked.

"You were riding in the middle of winter?"

"Yes," Legolas answered shortly, looking away. Haldir's eyes narrowed suddenly

as he caught sight of a small mark half-hidden below the younger elf's collar. He stepped forward, reaching for it. Startled, Legolas jumped backwards, tugging his collar up with his free hand up quickly, praying that the older elf hadn't seen it.

Haldir raised an eyebrow.

"Are you all right? Did you bruise yourself as well?"

Legolas shook his head, his eyes wide.

"No! Just- just leave it alone please." Fear spiked through him and, wishing for an escape, he turned his back on the elf and walked swiftly towards the safety of the garden to gather his thoughts. The prince paused, without looking up at the older elf, and thrust something into his hand.

"This is yours. Sorry I forgot about it," he mumbled before quickly crossing the hall at a run.

Haldir half-reached out to stop him but the prince was already gone. He glanced down at the knife in his hand and shook his head grimly.

Legolas glanced back nervously. He could not help but feel frightened. Telas had already been attacked. Cálivien had been slain, the younger elf couldn't believe it still! What would stop Ainan from going after the Lórien elf should Haldir get in his way?

Night fell upon a silent palace. The Lórien elves had retired early, stricken with grief and mourning for their friend. This horrid tragedy on the heels of the torture and mutilation of Thranduil's councilor was almost more than the elven people could bear.

The whispers grew.

"What should we do with them, my lord?"

"Those Lórien traitors must have brought more of their kind with them then we knew. Be careful, my friend" Ainan cautioned quietly. "They are cunning these Galadhrim. They seek to usurp us, undermine our authority- we must show them who is master here." His tone took on a businesslike air. "Destroy those arms you find. But leave those other three elves be for the time being. Let them think they are safe and unsuspected. Then we will strike."

"Yes, sir!" the royal guard captain bowed stiffly. He did not hear the lie in the other's voice. But, he knew it was a lie. The only reason he followed this mad coup was for the sake of his wife and young son. He was so afraid of what would happen to them if he did not obey this false King. He turned to leave.

"Tirien," Ainan commanded casually. The elven guard paused at the door, his heartbeat quickening with apprehension.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I feel the need to refresh my archery skills. Would you kindly hold that apple up for me?" Trembling, the guard did as he was bid. He held it up at arm's length.

"Closer."

Tirien was shaking now. The apple quivered in his hand as he moved it closer to his face. Ainan took his aim, staring directly down the arrow shaft at Tirien. The guard swallowed the lump in his throat.

The bowstring sang.

The guard squeezed his eyes shut tight, expecting to feel pain. He felt a slight tug at his hand and jerked in surprise, opening his eyes.

The apple lay in scattered pieces around him and on his shoulder and wrist. The arrow hung several feet behind him embedded in the wall. Slowly, Ainan lowered his bow, his face grim and a dangerous smile playing on his lips.

"The next time you hesitate to obey me," Ainan said coldly. "You will be the apple."

He grinned at the terrified look on the guard's face as he hastily bowed and fled the room. So, they thought they could outwit him did they? The discovery of his arms and supplies had only set him back. Other weapons had already been delivered into the waiting hands of those vengeful ones who wished death upon the wrongful King of Mirkwood.

Time to tie up the loose ends and carefully withdraw.

There was still much work to do ere the time came for them to truly begin.

Smiling wickedly, Ainan slipped into the shadows and down the empty, quiet passage of the palace. Down he traveled until even the cellars had receded into darkness.

With only a torch to light his way, the elf passed swiftly down the hidden tunnel which only he and his most trusted of associates knew of. This part of the palace wasn't even used anymore. So close to the river was it that the walls had weakened and, in some places, crumbled or flooded.

In short, it was perfect.

Finding a solid, and newly fitted oak door embedded in the soft sandstone, he drew a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked the door which swung open noiselessly, the torchlight flooding into the narrow room, illuminating the pale hair of a figure who lay upon the damp stones. Chains attached the figure's limbs to the walls. Evidence of his struggles was obvious from his chafed, abraded and bleeding wrists. Blood poured sluggishly from a hastily bound wound in the prisoner's shoulder.

Ainan stared down at the tousled, bloodied head slumped between proud shoulders and laid a long-fingered hand upon it, shuddering in satisfaction as he felt the tremble in the manacled limbs.

"Nearly mine, muindor. Nearly mine."

Chapter Text

Murder… He could think so easily of it, even distantly and he knew he was in shock still. He was too numb to grieve.

Haldir splashed cold water onto his face to still the flood of bitter tears that stung his throat. He glanced up into the looking-glass to see his own shadowed eyes. His face was white. Tearing his gaze away from his haunted reflection, Haldir looked absently around the spartan room.

There was little in the way of comfort though Thranduil had provided every luxury for his guests. The Lórien soldiers asked for little of their hosts- not wanting to be burdensome and more accustomed to the plain platforms in the trees of their homeland anyway.

A simple room with a mahogany desk in the corner which also doubled as a breakfast table sat near the sliding glass door that led onto a little balcony overlooking the towering birch trees that nearly grew up to the window. It made the Galadhrim feel right at home to have the trees so near.

And Haldir wished he could be there now.

He turned away from the view at the window and back towards the room. It looked terribly, frighteningly normal as well as empty. Cálivien's bed had been made up by a servant; the flowers in the vase on the table had not yet withered. There was no evidence to suggest that its former occupant had just been brutally assassinated.

Haldir fingered the worn and battered scabbard at his side. The sword had been found in the commander's room, untouched and sheathed. He would keep it as a reminder to himself. A reminder of what happened when he did not protect those he cared for. Cálivien had been his captain, mentor, friend. And now he was dead. Haldir blamed himself for it. He had been the one in charge; he should have suspected something was amiss! So many questions whirled through his mind, mingling with the grief and guilt he felt.

Slowly seating himself on the edge of the bed, Haldir sighed and let his head sink into his hands. How had this happened? This was only supposed to have been a diplomatic mission! Now the King was missing and one of their own was dead. But at whose hands? Haldir raised his head, staring dispassionately at the wall.

He could think of at least one person that had nearly spoken his dislike for them aloud. Ainan. That elf had as good as accused them of treachery and if Haldir and his friends were viewed as a threat to the kingdom, he might take drastic action. But how drastic?

Cálivien was dead.

It seemed he had his answer.

A knock on the chamber door startled him from his dark thoughts and he raised his head as Ancadal poked his head into the room, followed closely by Rameil. The two of them looked weary and heart sore. Cálivien had been a good friend of theirs as well and had trained them both since they were but children. They stood silently by him for a moment, not speaking but taking a little comfort in the knowledge that they were not alone in their grief.

"I cannot believe he's gone," Ancadal sniffed and turned away for a moment in a pretext of examining the view outside the balcony. Haldir did not remember how long he had been in this room but it must have been a longer time than he had thought if his friends were looking for him.

"With all due respect, sir," Rameil began with a nod of his head. "We need a commander now- not a mourner." They were hard words and Haldir felt the bite of them. Ancadal turned on the Rivendell elf in open wonderment, astonished that he had the gall to address their friend in such a manner, which the raven-haired elf blithely ignored. Haldir looked up at him in surprise.

"Sir, he didn't-" Ancadal started but Haldir forestalled his protestations with an upraised hand.

"No. Rameil, you're right." Haldir rose slowly from his seat and looked the stoic elf in the eyes. "Someone has to decide what we're going to do." He broke his gaze and turned it to the floor.

"What are we going to do, sir? Do we leave… ?" Rameil trailed off uncertainly. Haldir shook his head slowly.

"We cannot. The paths through the forest are blocked with snow," That, at least, he believed of Ainan- if nothing else. Haldir shrugged hopelessly.

"We're trapped here," Rameil said quietly, his face betraying nothing but deep in his eyes there was a little flicker- as though of fear. Haldir stared at his subordinate for a long moment, wondering if the inscrutable warrior too suspected Ainan. Haldir's eyes drifted towards the westward rising moon. It was still fairly early but he was bone tired and he knew the others probably felt the same.

"We'll not worry about that now," he consoled soothingly as he tried to allay their fears as well as his own. "We must see Cálivien put to rest first." He reached forward and placed a hand on either of their shoulders, feeling a heavy weight settling on his own.

"As my first order, I command the both of you to get some sleep. I also want you to report to me in the morning and every evening. Keep your eyes open and your blades close," Haldir warned them sternly, unconsciously appearing exactly like their former commander. Rameil snapped a sharp salute and nodded briskly.

"Yes, sir."

Ancadal grinned and repeated it with a silly, exaggerated gesture with much bowing, shattering the stiff seriousness of the moment.

"Yes, sir!"

Rameil looked as though he could hit the younger elf but Haldir only smiled, again thanking his Lady for letting this young elf come with them. It lightened his heart and he swore to himself that he would protect these two.

He would not fail them as he had Cálivien.

Many were already asleep and the eerie gloom cast twisting shadows along the emerald carpeted floors. But the young elf slipped restlessly through the halls, searching for his friend, avoiding the revealing patches of silvery moonlight filtering through the high windows. His father would tell him nothing of what had happened but Lóthmir knew it was nothing good and he was worried for his friend.

What troubled him was LegolasHe had been far too distant and silent over the past weeks. The young elf merely wondered why? And now, since there were no lessons to interrupt or other things (besides sleeping) that the young prince could be doing, it was the perfect time to talk and though Rinniad had said he would come, Lóthmir had not seen hide or hair of him.

What had happened to the palace?

Often during their rambunctious years, the three elves would stalk the corridors of the palace- just as often getting caught by their fathers or the kitchen servants as they tried to sneak sweets from the larder. But, he had never felt… frightened in the palace after dark. It was a safe haven for the elves in the middle of this darksome wood. But, now, it felt strange and unfamiliar. Cold, even.

Lóthmir shivered and stopped, listening.

There were voices coming down the passageway. Soft voices, whispers and the young elf felt his heart leap in his chest in sudden trepidation.

If it was the servants, or worse one of the guards who knew his father, he would be in hideous trouble. But there was no place to hide. Frantically, Lóthmir hid himself in the deepest shadows he could find away from the emerald windows beside one of the intermittent statues of the Valar. Thankfully, Irmo's voluminous stone robe threw long shadows into the corner.

But it was not the servants or the guards that paced towards him now and Lóthmir, despite himself, leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowed against the darkness. He stilled his breath as his heart hard pounded between his ribs, nearly choking him.

What was Legolas doing out so late? And with his uncle…? Something was going on. He had heard his father talking about the mysterious elf-lord some nights ago- of his promises to help the elven people while their King was absent- absent. Tirien stubbornly refused to believe that their King had abandoned him… or the alternative. Lóthmir's father had not believed the Regent. His young son knew nothing of such things and so ignored it although Legolas' uncle rather scared him.

He hauled in his attention as he saw Legolas stumble. Lóthmir's brow furrowed as he saw his friend double over as though in pain, clutching his injured wrist. The prince's young face contorted though no sound left his lips. Ainan's eyes narrowed in annoyance and he cuffed the prince soundly across the face, knocking him backwards into the wall.

"Stop sniveling, child," he snarled sibilantly, his silver-blue eyes flickering quickly around the silent hallway and Lóthmir quickly pressed his back against the wall to avoid detection.

The watching elf's mouth dropped open, shock and outrage momentarily overwhelming his fear. How dare that elf call himself Legolas' kin! To treat him as such…! Now, he knew why Legolas had been so quiet and avoiding them of late. But why hadn't he told anyone?

He had to tell someone.

Lóthmir waited until the pair had passed him, feeling his heart ache for his friend and intense anger that made his blood boil at the thought of the prince's traitorous uncle.

He spun around only to leap back in sudden fear as two, burning, dark eyes bored down into his. He didn't even have time to shout as an icy hand clapped over his mouth and he felt a sudden, sharp blow to the back of his neck

Then everything went black.

Legolas was shoved roughly into his room and he flung himself onto his makeshift pallet near the unlit fire as he heard the lock click behind him. The young prince wished there was a deadbolt on that door that he could lock from the inside. Then the monster outside couldn't get him. He buried his face in his arms as tears of pain welled in his eyes.

But they would not fall.

He could still feel it. Hear it. And he shuddered violently with renewed pain, anger and humiliation. But, fear overrode it all. This time, Legolas had passed out from the agony and only the shooting pain in his twisted wrist had awoken him before his uncle had dragged him back to his room. The prince tossed and turned restlessly, bolting up, drenched in sweat as he realized he had fallen asleep. Only the firelight cast menacing shadows haunting the walls.

Sighing and giving up on sleep, Legolas picked himself up from the floor and eased himself into his chair, careful of his back which felt as though it were afire. He looked up sharply at a creak in his room. His wide, blue eyes stared around in fear as he scrambled to his feet, swaying as agony shot through his back. But there was nothing there and the tree that had made the noise creaked almost apologetically as it touched the glass window again.

Legolas couldn't stand it! The silence, the darkness, the fear, it was too much for his hurting and frightened body to take. He frantically rattled his doorknob, before he remembered that it was locked.

No.

The prince sat down slowly with his back against the solid oak door, leaning his head back against it as he closed his eyes. He was trapped.

He knew his uncle could kill him on a whim. There was no reason for Ainan to keep him alive- he was a liability only. Without an heir to the throne, Ainan could rule uncontested; his father was gone- and his mother… She was so withdrawn from him lately, consumed by her own worries, her own fears.

He was alone.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Click.

Legolas leapt back as the door to his room opened a crack, his heart thundering in fearful apprehension.

Rinniad grinned up at him mischievously from where he knelt on the floor, a small, slender pick in his hand.

"You know I'm better at picking locks than you. Come on, Lóthmir's supposed to be around here al-" he frowned slightly as he looked up at the prince's pale face. "Legolas, what's wrong?" He looked up at the prince's white, wide-eyed face and became immediately wary. But the prince shook his head and took his friend by the shoulder.

"Rinniad, I can't explain this to you," his voice nearly broke as a vision flashed before his eyes of his friend in his uncle's hands… but he shook his head and rattled on. "I want you to find Lóthmir and get back to your room. Stay there and don't come out. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, but Legolas-!"

The prince ignored his friend's pleas as he raced off down the corridor as fast as his shaking legs could carry him and his wounds would allow.

His parents were nowhere to be seen and he dare not involve Rinniad or Lóthmir for fear of bringing them into danger. Feeling very small and abandoned, the prince searched the empty halls, a hollow pit of fear gnawing at his stomach as he realized that if his uncle found him out of his room after he had been locked in for the night… The prince swallowed a hard lump in his throat as he realized that his next beating might kill him. He couldn't take much more of this. The pain was getting worse, with his uncle beating him unrestrainedly with his father gone. If only he had been quicker and told someone! Maybe all of this wouldn't have happened!

He felt so coldly alone as he glanced outside. The moon was drifting westward. The prince was surprised- he hadn't realized it was so late. But even that could not dull the horrid agony he felt throbbing through his chest. His father was gone… his mother… who could he turn to? He couldn't do this alone anymore! His spirit sagged under the dragging weight of fear, grief and agony that he had borne for far longer than he had thought he could stand.

Legolas paused for a split second, undecided, then turned right around and raced back the way he had come, heading towards the guest wings.

The soft, insistent knock drew him from sleep. Haldir sat up abruptly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He threw back the covers, shivering as his bare feet touched the floor. The knocking continued- soft but unceasing as though the person on the other side of the door wished to rouse those within with as little noise as possible.

Haldir crossed his room in three strides and opened the door slowly.

Legolas stood on the threshold, his face white in the moonlight streaming through the long windows. He looked up at Haldir who leaned on the doorframe, bleary-eyed with his long hair disheveled from sleep.

"Legolas? Do you know what time it is?" the elf commander asked, rubbing his eyes as he suppressed a yawn. Then he caught the look on the younger elf's face and all irritation disappeared.

"What's wrong?"

Legolas hesitated a moment, suddenly unsure and awkward of what to say. He looked up at Haldir then down the corridor as if he expected some monster to come charging around it.

"I'm sorry for the hour…" he began but Haldir merely shook his head, nodding to encourage him. "May I- may I speak with you, please?" Haldir nodded again.

"Certainly. Give me a moment."

Haldir disappeared from the doorway and reappeared a moment later with an emerald colored robe draped around his shoulders. He motioned the young prince into the room but Legolas hesitated.

His uncle had eyes and ears everywhere.

"Do you mind if we walk a little?" he asked. Haldir shook his head with a shrug.

"Why not?"

At every corner, Legolas expected to run into his uncle and his heart beat a frenetic thump in his chest as a chill groped its way up his spine. Every drape's shadow concealed an enemy and every soft sound of the night made him jump nervously. Sweat slid down his back and made his nightshirt stick uncomfortably to his skin but he led Haldir onward down the marble steps and out onto the palace grounds, saying nothing as they flitted from shadow to shadow like phantoms.

The grass was wet and crunched under their bare feet as they crossed the dark grounds, bathed only in the gentle silver light that drifted through the rifts in the banks of cloud that drew up from the east.

They wandered out into the gardens, the long hedges spidered with glittering frost, and sat beside the white marble fountain. Even now its cool waters splashed down into the basin, murmuring in the moonlight. Legolas sighed, feeling comforted at last. Being here reminded him of his mother and gave him courage. Haldir sat beside him, the crisp air having finally driven the last cobwebs of sleep from his mind.

"So," the Lórien elf began, his voice uncommonly loud in the stillness. "what is this all about?" Legolas looked up at him briefly as he watched the falling water rippling into the pool. It was suddenly much harder to explain than he had anticipated- seemed almost ludicrous! Maybe he was mistaken… ought he really to tell anyone at all?

"I'm- I'm really sorry about… your friend," Legolas hedged, casting about for something, anything else to say. Haldir raised an eyebrow even as a fresh spark of sorrow flashed in his dark eyes.

"So am I," he said after a moment of silence. "But I don't think that that is the reason you woke me up in the middle of the night." He smiled gently down at the golden head. When the prince didn't look up, the older elf reached forward and tilted up his chin to look into the young elf's eyes.

"Legolas?" Haldir prompted softly, his grey eyes concerned. The golden-haired prince took a deep breath.

"I-I think my father's in danger," he blurted out in a rush. He hesitatingly met Haldir's eyes, afraid that the older elf would laugh or curse him for being so foolish and for waking him up in the middle of the night for such a ridiculous reason.

Haldir did neither. He merely stared at the younger elf for a long moment without speaking.

"Why would you think that?" he asked and Legolas breathed again- at least Haldir was willing to hear him out.

"I heard… you just have to believe me, Haldir," he said softy, too afraid to implicate his uncle in such a plot. The elf commander asked no questions and merely nodded, wide awake now, his thoughts awhirl with this information.

Legolas rubbed his sore wrist absently and Haldir's eyes followed the movement, his suspicions increasing tenfold.

"Who is doing this to you, Legolas?" The young prince looked up in shock, fear suddenly flashing across his face before it was carefully wiped away.

"What do you mean?"

Haldir pointed to his wrist. Legolas glanced down at it and shrugged- the lie coming easily from his lips as it had when everyone else had asked him that same question.

"I fell from my horse- a riding accident, I told you."

Haldir raised an eyebrow for the second time that night in disbelief.

"I did not know you rode in winter. Let me see- it may be serious." He stretched forth his hand and touched the bandage.

"Oh, leave it be, please," Legolas pleaded, shying away but Haldir held him fast, though gently. He carefully pushed up the prince's silver nightshirt to expose the bandage wrapped around his arm. The younger elf bit his lip as the commander's surprising gentle hands unwound the wrap, exposing the swollen wrist of the child.

Legolas shivered as the cold wind met his hot flesh and looked away from Haldir in shame. His heart beat faster- half with anticipation and half with terrible fear. The Lórien elf frowned and leaned forward, carefully examining the circular bruises on the prince's flesh; the accusing marks livid still against the white skin screamed a terrible tale of horrific violence.

"These are fingertip bruises, Legolas," Haldir said softly, looking up at the prince, his suspicions and worst fears confirmed. The young elf would not meet his gaze as he sought to fight against the tears of shame that threatened to run down his face. He screwed his face up and took in several deep breaths to calm himself, finally looking up again impassively.

Haldir's frown deepened at the lack of expression in his young friend's eyes. He did not know what Legolas was feeling and he certainly had not expected this. But something had been wrong for awhile now. He had sensed it in the young elf's silence, his unease and avoidances.

"It is easier to deny the truth than admit it when you feel that someone you trusted or loved does something wrong," Haldir said, not sure if he was saying the right thing or really what he was doing. But the little prince was his friend and Haldir could not be called the same if he did not try to figure out what was wrong with the prince.

Legolas listened quietly, his head cast down in thought as the older elf continued.

"However, keeping something inside of you- especially if it is painful and hurts you- eats away at you on the inside, hardens you… makes you cold." Haldir bent forward a little to peer up into the young elf's shadowed face.

"What can you do about it?" Legolas asked, his voice scarcely audible over the splashing water of the fountain. "If someone…" But he could not say it and Haldir understood, rather alarmed now and terrified of what this child might have suffered.

"Then you tell someone you can talk to. Your mother… your father… a friend."

"What if you deserve it?" The older elf's heart broke as he looked down at the golden head of the young prince.

"No one deserves to be hurt, Legolas," he said softly, not quite trusting his voice but his words burned with conviction. Legolas' own voice was very small as he next spoke.

"Please… tell no one…"

It was so difficult to say… he had kept his secret for so long! But it hurt so much to keep this inside! To worry all the time! To have fear coursing through his veins each night and each night wondering if he would live to see the morning.

Haldir frowned and rolled up the rest of Legolas' sleeves, looking for any more signs of violence upon the child but there were none. Ainan had been careful indeed and had covered all of his steps.

"He bound me with linen- to keep from scarring," the young elf's voice was scarce above a whisper; the shame of it making his ears burn. He could not meet the other's gaze. "He said there was nothing wrong with pain- it was a teacher… I deserved it."

"Legolas, there is nothing in this world that you could do that would deserve such treatment from anyone," Haldir said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Legolas fell silent for a moment.

"Dringae nin. (He beat me.)"

His entire story spilled out of him like a poison being sucked from a wound- the nightly beatings, the rod, the lonely nights spent on bloodstained sheets, the punishments from his father, his mother's aloofness, the discovered plan to murder his father… all of it.

Haldir listened quietly and Legolas was grateful for the silence of his companion. He feared that if he was interrupted, he would be too overwhelmed to speak again. It felt as though he were on a horse galloping out of control and if he stopped, he would shatter into a thousand pieces. And yet, it felt so good to have someone actually listen to him, to have someone look at him as though he were more than a pile of orc refuse as his uncle had looked at him. The compassion in those grey eyes nearly wanted him to break down and sob and it took all of his strength simply to keep on speaking, to force every word from his mouth before he lost his courage.

Finally, his tale told, the prince slumped and tears at last began to run down his face. A horrible weight had been lifted from his chest but in its place was a sickening, gut-wrenching fear. Haldir wrapped his arm around the young prince as the elf-child buried his face in the older elf's shoulder and cried, his body shuddering with sobs, of pain, of humiliation that he had kept locked up inside for so long bursting forth in a river of tears that soaked the older elf's tunic. Haldir tightened his grip on the young one, letting him cry as he struggled to control his own turmoil of emotions, aggrieved and horrified by the thought of his gentle friend being treated so cruelly by one he had trusted.

"You cannot fear him anymore, Legolas- fear is his power over you." The young prince mutely shook his head as he pulled away from the comfort of the older elf's embrace. It was so easy to say! But, Legolas had good reason to fear his uncle. The prince shrugged away from Haldir's touch and quickly dried his eyes and raked his hair back; his flushed cheeks the only indication of his emotional unrest.

"Legolas, I have to tell your mother about this. Someone must know of this. She can-" At this, Legolas pulled back violently.

"No! Please." He fervently gripped the elf's forearms. "You don't know what my uncle can do… He'll…" But his throat constricted and Legolas, to his horror, felt tears well up in his eyes. He fought them down and swallowed hard. Haldir opened his mouth to speak but Legolas rose suddenly.

"Don't say anything- please. My uncle…I will be missed," he said, his mien suddenly cold. He bowed and slipped quickly away. Haldir rose to follow after him but the prince was already gone. The elf captain sat back onto the cold rim of the fountain with his head in his hands.

He should have known! And he cursed himself for the lapse. Why had no one noticed? Anger pierced him- anger at Legolas for not telling someone sooner; anger at the King and Queen for not realizing that their son was in such terrible danger; anger at himself for being so caught up in his own selfish concerns. But most of all, he was furious with Ainan, that vile… Haldir gritted his teeth as he looked up at the cloud-covered moon and he chuckled bitterly as he reflected on the foul elf's name:

Ainan.

Holy one.

Chapter Text

Legolas raced back to his room, his heart pounding so hard he thought it would burst. What he'd done, what he revealed to Haldir was impulsive, fueled by fear. And yet, Legolas somehow knew his trust was well placed. Haldir would help him if the prince let him but Legolas wasn't sure if he could now.

Flinging open the door to his room, he froze as he passed the threshold, his stomach leaping with fear. Ainan stood in the middle of the room, facing the door, looking directly into his nephew's terrified eyes. The terrorized child trembled under that gaze.

"Where have you been, Legolas?"

"I-I-" Legolas stammered, not a single thought coming to his mind as he looked up into those silver-blue eyes, caught in that hypnotic gaze.

Ainan crossed the room in two strides and seized his nephew by the hair, wrenching his head back to look up into his eyes.

"You answer me, boy, when I ask you a question! Where were you?"

Legolas winced at the sharp pain that prickled through his scalp. "I-I was in the gardens, Vedhir…" It wasn't a lie exactly, but neither was it the entire truth.

Ainan stared at him for a long, torturous moment, his eyes narrowed in menace. Legolas managed to meet and hold his gazeas the older elf released his hold and stepped back.

"You are hiding something," Ainan said slowly, as though he himself were unsure.

Legolas shook his head dutifully. "Never, Vedhir. I would not lie to you."

Savagely, he felt a small bubble of triumph grow inside of him. Ainan didn't know about Haldir! He was safe… for now… and yet, as one who has managed to calm a cobra, he was wary and every muscle in his body tensed as he waited for his uncle's next move.

"What have I told you about lying, tithen (little one)? When will you learn thatyou cannot hide anything from me," Ainan growled dangerously.

Despite himself, Legolas blanched, unknowingly betraying himself to his uncle's devious mind. Ainan suddenly smiled, a wicked idea forming in his mind as he guessed the turmoil of his frightened nephew's thoughts.

"I know you spoke to someone, Legolas," he said quietly, supremely satisfied when the young elf's head jerked up, his blue eyes wide with fear. "Yes, I thought so." Ainan leaned forward, towering over the elf-child who shrank back in sudden fear, his courage gone.

"Who was it?"

When Legolas stubbornly returned no answer, an evil smile spread slowly across Ainan's narrow face and he took a step back from the prince.

"Perhaps it would quicken your tongue to know that one of your friends did not reach his home last night?"

Legolas bit his tongue to keep an outraged cry from breaking past his lips but worry and sudden anxiety spiked through him- who? Surely Rinniad and Lóthmir had both left when he had commanded…? But what if they hadn't? Legolas inwardly shook his head and looked his uncle straight in the eye.

"You lie."

Ainan laughed- genuine, amused laughter with a cruel edge as sharp as a sword blade as he turned his back on the boy for a moment and lifted something from one of the armchairs. The prince felt despair grip him as Ainan tossed the green linen cloak at him. Pinned to it, was a golden brooch- the King's seal. One worn by all those who guarded the monarch's family or the palace. Like the Captain of the Royal Guard.

Like his son.

Legolas felt something burst inside of him as he threaded his friend's cloak through his fingers and felt it drop numbly to the floor. A reckless rage overtook him. He didn't know what he was doing. The only thing he knew next was that he was grappling with his uncleHe wanted to strike him. To hurt him. As his uncle had hurt him.

It was not courage that aided him but blind fury.

But Ainan was too strong and Legolas' sudden burst of energy was quickly spent.

With a vicious cuff, Ainan struck his nephew squarely across the face with the back of his hand, causing him to topple over backwards, landing on the floor with a painful thud. Legolas looked up, tears of rage and helplessness in his eyes but his fiery anger had been washed away as though knocked from him by the blow and his terrible, paralyzing fear returned as he wiped the blood from his nose. He was in terrible trouble now; he knew by the dangerous look in his uncle's nearly black eyes.

He gathered himself to his knees and collapsed breathless and in pain, beside his uncle, horror and anguish weakening him.

"I'm sorry," he gasped brokenly, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He tried to hold them back but that only made him sob harder. He clutched at Ainan's robes, burying his face in the soft fabric. He knew he was in deep trouble now and could only hope to perhaps placate his uncle- keep him from killing him.

"Please, Vedhir. I'm really, really sorry. Please…" he begged. He hated himself for it. He felt lower than a dog, groveling here at his uncle's feet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. His voice broke and his words shuddered into uncontrollable sobbing.

Through it all, Ainan stood silent, impassive, an indomitable statue of ice. Only his dark eyes glittered with any kind of life.

"I think I have the perfect punishment in mind for you, Legolas," he said calmly. The young elf's sobs redoubled and he shook like a leaf in a strong wind on the carpet. Ainan looked down at his nephew's tearstained facewith an icy stare… and smiled.

"The children's games we have played until now are ended, Legolas," Ainan said quietly as he took his nephew's chin in a long, pale hand. Simultaneously, he reached back to his belt and withdrew a wicked something from it.

Legolas felt himself break into a cold sweat as the snakelike thing in his uncle's hand lashed the floor. His uncle had never whipped him before.

Ainan smiled slightly as he peered down at the thin form huddled on the floor like a small, frightened animal as he twirled the whip idly between his fingers, the small braided thongs at the end dancing threateningly.

"You are no longer a child. And therefore, you will not be punished like a child. Do you know what adult betrayers of secrets receive as punishment, Legolas?" Ainan asked softly, dangerously, a wild light in his eyes. Legolas quailed under that gaze.

He knew.

The braided thong drew an anguished cry from his lips as Ainan laid into him. He did not even bother to remove the boy's tunic but allowed it to be slowly shredded under the fury of blows he rained onto the elf-child's back.

"You never, ever raise your hand against me! Ever!" He punctuated each word with a stinging cut with the lash. He suddenly seized the young elf by the hair and dragged him upright, the whip lashing around his ankles like a bloodstained snake. "I will not hesitate to end his life as easily as I could yours. Do you understand me?"

Legolas could barely nod, fear mercilessly gripping his vocal chords. Satisfied, Ainan shoved him to the floor again, the metal-tipped whip rose again and fell. This kind of pain Legolas had never felt before and it frightened him. A mad, swirling darkness momentarily obscured his eyes and his vision narrowed as he stared determinedly at the carpet beneath him trying to count, to think, to do anything to take his mind off the pain. But he could not focus.

The terrible pain wrenched him back again and again; it felt as though his very flesh were being stripped from his back and he cried out, screaming wordlessly, begging helplessly for his uncle to stop hurting him, tears pouring unchecked down his face as broken sobs ripped themselves from his lips. He tried to wriggle away from under the lash but Ainan simply followed him until he had nowhere left to crawl. He could feel the warm blood sliding down his back. He pressed his face to the cold wooden floor, shuddering and gasping, his voice hoarse, too weak to cry anymore.

At last, the prince's tired, overwhelmed body shut down and he was thrown into blessed oblivion.

It was very late now- so late as to be almost early. But still, the stars shone coldly in the black velvet sky and the sun still slept in a dark haze.

Haldir paused outside the door. He thought this was the Sindarin prince's room for Legolas and he had walked past it many a time in their routinely strolls around the palace. He knew he was probably being a fool but he wanted to make sure Legolas was all right- after he had run off, Haldir hadn't been able to talk to him and he wanted to make sure the prince didn't do anything rash

Still, he hesitated for a mere moment before he stretched out his hand for the doorknob.

Locked.

That in itself was not unusual. Royalty would keep their doors locked at night as a simple precaution although, granted, he would not have expected that here in peaceful Mirkwood. Haldir knocked and waited a moment. When there came no answer, he knocked more firmly.

Still nothing. Maybe the Mirkwood prince had gone to sleep already… He paused again, wondering if he was simply being foolish now and should save himself the embarrassment and walk away. He half-turned, thinking he would simply talk to Legolas tomorrow when he got the chance. . But there was something in the air. Something was very wrong and Haldir felt it in the marrow of his bones. He steeled himself and prayed he wasn't accidentally walking into some elf maid's chambers. Haldir drew his knife from within his belt and carefully slid it between the door and the frame. After a few endless moments, the lock clicked open and the door swung inward.

Nothing.

The room was empty. But it was certainly Legolas' room- his bow and quiver lay discarded on their sides in a corner. Some of the books were scattered from their shelves but otherwise the room was in perfect order.

But then he heard it.

Muffled sobbing. Haldir looked around and quickly spotted another door at the far side of the room. He crossed to it and discovered that this door too was locked. He broke it with no qualms now and burst into the room.

What he saw almost made his heart stop beating.

Legolas lay on an unkempt bare mattress with his face buried in a filthy pillow. But it was not that that broke the heart of the elven soldier. Long, raking red marks lacerated the poor child's back through the remnants of his slashed tunic. Some of the cuts were still bleeding freely and it was painfully obvious that he had been beaten- badly.

He crossed the room in two strides and knelt beside the bed, hesitatingly placing a hand on the young one's matted hair. Legolas flinched away but his sobs immediately silenced.

"Legolas," Haldir called softly. "It's me."

The fair elf's head snapped up and Haldir had a mere glimpse of a red, tear-stained face before Legolas threw himself on the elf, despite his wounds, sobbing brokenly into the older elf's arms. Haldir stayed still as the prince cried into his shoulder, uncertain what he could do and unwilling to look at the mutilated young back. He touched the boy's shoulder and stroked his hair soothingly, whispering soft, nonsensical sounds until the young one's sobs subsided to hiccups and sniffles.

Haldir lifted the young one in his arms easily and sat him in the armchair by the fire, wrapping him in a warm blanket. Haldir knelt next to the brave boy and grasped him by the upper arms firmly.

"I will never let this happen again. I will protect you, Legolas- I swear it," he vowed quietly and Legolas saw in his eyes that he would do anything to keep that promise.

The prince blamed himself for tonight; he should have known better than to go back to his room. But he looked at Haldir with stricken eyes; he wanted to be protected, to be cared for, to be told he was worth something so badly!

But he also knew he had already let Haldir get far too close. And he feared for his friend's life.

The firegrate was ice cold but Haldir knelt busily next to it, quickly piling it high with logs and setting it ablaze.

"You shouldn't be here," Legolas protested weakly. He knew Haldir would get into terrible trouble if Ainan found him here; but the young elf didn't want him to leave. He was so afraid of being alone right now. He didn't think he could stand it if Haldir left. But the older elf had no mind to go and told him so.

With a twinge of worry that was overridden by relief, the younger elf leaned back in his chair, flinching slightly. He watched as Haldir disappeared momentarily into the other room and returned with the rod in hand. Legolas shrank back, his eyes wide and aghast with fear. Haldir saw the look on his face and immediately bent down and threw the cruel implement into the fire.

Haldir would settle this tonight- with his bare fists if he had to. He would not allow the little prince to suffer another night of this torment. Legolas looked up at the tall elf and saw a steely glint in his eyes that he had seen there only once before. The Mirkwood elfling clutched the blanket closer to him, feeling the back of the chair scrape his mutilated back and he winced, his fears pressing down upon him once more.

"I-I don't want to be alone," Legolas whispered, staring carefully at the carpet. Haldir looked down at the young elf, his heart clenching in his chest. He touched his friend's shoulder, pulling away as Legolas grimaced.

"You'll stay in my room tonight."

Carefully, Haldir tended to the young elf's wounds, washing his bloodied back and slipping a fresh tunic on him. Legolas could scarcely stand-his legs still shook with fear and exhaustion and his back burned so badly he could hardly think. Haldir gently helped the young prince from the armchair and supported him as they walked out into the hall, glancing up and down the moonlit corridor as he led Legolas after him.

Legolas' heart beat a frantic jump in his chest as he expected to round every corner and see his uncle's evil face peering out of the gloom. But they arrived without mishap and Legolas breathed a sigh of relief in the familiar room. Haldir gestured towards the bed.

"Please, rest while you can, Legolas."

The prince paused. "Oh… I-I couldn't…" he protested but Haldir was firm. Reluctantly, Legolas eased under the now-cool sheets and huddled beneath, sighing in exhausted relief. A real, comfortable bed… the first in- he couldn't remember how long.

Haldir folded himself in the armchair beside him, draping his robe over his body as a blanket while he stared at the sleeping form of his young friend. His grey eyes slowly drifted to the floor in thought. How could he have allowed this to happen? He had promised Legolas that he would protect him and that had caused the little prince even more pain. The hilt of his sword poked him between the ribs and jerked him out of his reverie but he would not release it.

A soft rapping on the door startled the elf from his sleep for the second time that night. Haldir rose quickly, his hand gripping the hilt of his saber tightly, not caring that his robe slid to the floor.

"Who is it?" he hissed roughly.

"Commander, it is I. Please open the door," came Rameil's urgent voice through the wood. Haldir released the hilt of his sword and glanced back at the young elf with his golden hair tumbled over the pillow as he slept on.

He opened the door a crack and peered out at his subordinate's white face.

"What is it?" Haldir asked.

"Sir, I need to- what's he doing in here with you?" Rameil countered in surprise, frowning at the sleeping form of the prince over his commander's shoulder. Haldir glanced back into the darkened room and quickly edged out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

"Rameil, you must listen to me," he said quietly, speaking quickly, terribly conscious of the fact that theirs may not be the only listening ears. "The King is in danger. There is treachery here."

"I know it," Rameil entered quietly. "You must come with me."

Curiosity and sudden anxiety spiked through the other elf at those words. Haldir hesitated a long moment, glancing back into the night-shrouded room. Slowly, he shook his head.

"I can't- I can't leave him."

"Sir," Rameil said firmly. "With all due respect, you must. More lives may be lost if you do not- the young prince will be safe. No one knows that he is here do they?"

"No."

"Then he will be all right," the raven-haired elf insisted, his eyes alight with urgency. "Come. The sooner we leave, the sooner you can return."

"Give me a moment."

Haldir slid back inside the room, turning as he did so to meet Legolas' wide, frightened eyes. The older elf walked towards the bed and slid his robe over his broad shoulders one-handed as he gripped his saber tightly in the other.

"Where are you going?" That soft voice made him look up. Legolas looked at him with blue eyes wide in the moonlight filtering through the curtained windows. "You can't leave me," Legolas near-sobbed, fear wrenching at his heart again. Haldir knelt beside the bed, his eyes staring earnestly up into the young one's.

"Legolas, I can't take you with me- it'll be far more dangerous. You will be safe here- no one knows you are with me. Just stay here, and please try to go back to sleep."

Legolas suddenly had a horrible thought and sat up abruptly.

"Lóthmir! Haldir, Lóthmir- my friend- my uncle… he…" Legolas choked on his words, feeling wretchedly guilty that he had not thought of his friend earlier. Here he was, falling asleep while his friend might be suffering under his uncle's hands right now!

Haldir laid a gentle hand on his distrait friend's shoulder, pressing him back down amongst the pillows. "That's what we're trying to find out, Legolas. Don't worry. We'll find him." Legolas shook his head miserably, his eyes welling with tears.

"He said he'd kill him if I told- and I did." Legolas closed his eyes in silent torment. Haldir glanced towards the door where Rameil waited patiently, his inscrutable mask shattered by the sight of the young elf-child in such pain.

"I want to go with you," Legolas said, half-pleading. "Please. I have to find him."

But Haldir shook his head firmly.

"I cannot, Legolas. You're safe here-"

"I'm not safe anywhere," the prince burst out. "My uncle will find me! He knows everything! And he will kill my best friend if we don't do something!"

"Keep your voice down," Haldir commanded, chancing a hurried, anxious glance out at the doorway where Rameil still stood, his brow furrowed. The elf captain of Lórien took the young prince firmly by the shoulders, staring into his eyes.

"Legolas, obey me in this. As your friend, I insist you stay here, for the safety and for the lives of you and your friend. We will find him, I promise you."

Not giving the young elf the time to press his argument, Haldir rose fluidly and took up his sword once more. Legolas mutely watched the tall elf stand and secure his sword to his side, walking towards the door.

"You- you will come back, right?" Legolas asked softly at last though the helpless, angry defiance had not yet left his eyes. Haldir felt his heart melt though he recognized that look and he gave his young friend a reassuring smile as he paused with a hand on the door lintel.

"You can count on it."

Chapter Text

"So what is so urgent that you would call upon me in the middle of the night, Rameil?" Haldir questioned his friend as they stalked down the corridor. The dark-haired elf kept his voice low, his entire body rigid and alert as though he expected an attack at any moment.

"I have been suspicious of the goings-on here, sir, since yestereve- the day Cálivien… was killed," he answered softly, his eyes dark with sorrow. Haldir merely nodded, urging him to continue as they passed through the winding corridors though his thoughts were still with the young elf sleeping in his room.

"I have taken to walking about the palace- to ease my thoughts," Rameil admitted, scarcely glancing up when Ancadal suddenly materialized at his side, his youthful exuberance faded to grim wariness.

"He's in the main chamber," the youthful soldier informed them quietly.

Haldir was confused. Apparently, his soldiers had decided to do a bit of their own exploring without him.

"What is going on?" he demanded, stopping short. Ancadal shot an almost apologetic glance at his commander.

"I'm getting there," Rameil responded patiently.

"We took Cálivien's body down to the cellars- where there is a room for those who die in battle to await their proper burial. We placed him on a slab there and would have buried him this morning but when we returned later that evening, the body was gone. I saw a great smoke out under the trees- and I knew."

'They burned him," Ancadal spat with astonishing vehemence.

"Without our consent?" Haldir demanded, his voice shaking with anger.

"Ainan said that he felt that it would be too painful for us and it was their duty to care for him," Ancadal said bitterly.

"It was our duty- he was our friend."

Cold fury had replaced the Lórien commander's grief.

"Why?" he demanded, staring searchingly from one to the other. "Why?"

"I know not the purpose of it- but Ainan has already deemed us 'dangerous,'" the raven-haired elf snorted. "It is strange is it not that the King vanishes and Ainan so easily assumes his place?" Rameil mused.

"Ainan is behind this," Haldir said grimly. "I know it."

"That's what I thought too," Rameil agreed. "The attack of the so-called 'brigands' in the forest was not by chance. The King has been taken."

"Do you know where he is?" Haldir asked, looking up sharply. Rameil shook his head.

"I do not know. But I do not think he is dead. The cellars go deeper than we know. I have only been down there once or twice but there is a labyrinth of passages- and the dungeons. There are elves down there, sir," Rameil said quietly. "As prisoners. What for I do not know but I do not think it is done with the King's sanction."

The night was already old. The tallow sputtering candles that illumined the small room guttered, their wax dripping carelessly onto the ancient silver wood of the desk. Anariel stood rigid beside it, gazing absently at the dying candle flame. Her soul was heavy with a sorrowing blackness that refused to leave her. The Darkness had been growing; she felt it in her mind and in her heart. And she feared deeply for her husband who had not yet been found though their realm had been painstakingly searched.

But, she pushed her fear and sadness to the back of her mind as she raised her eyes to the slender figure before her, standing half shrouded in the dying amber light.

"Do not speak of such horrible things," she was saying. "Thranduil will be found- it's only a matter of time before the scouts return." Ainan shook his head grimly.

"He is dead, muinthel (sister). There is nothing you can do save-."

"No, Ainan! I refuse to believe it," the Queen interrupted passionately. Ainan merely gave her a conciliatory smile.

"Of course. There, there, little sister," Ainan soothed. "Do not fear. I have something that will make you feel better." As he spoke, he lifted a thin, rolled up object from the table. With a delicate toss, he revealed the painting before her eyes.

"I thought you might like it," he said, absently brushing away the age-long dust that lay over the family portrait. Anariel shifted not entirely comfortably as her eyes darted to the dark attendant, who never seemed to leave Ainan's side, standing watchfully by the door. She knew his burning eyes rested on her. Determined not to show fear to anyone, she turned back to her brother.

Sometimes a strange mood would take him- he would be melancholy and wistful then burst to sudden flame of anger or passion. It was difficult to tell with him now that they were older. But she remembered the painting drawn long ago, at a happier time in a garden freshly washed by rain.

Anariel looked down at the top of her brother's head from where he reclined easily on the settee. He lifted his eyes to her and she felt anger bloom in her as she saw that insufferably insolent smirk on his face as though he knew something she didn't.

"What is so amusing to you, muindor (brother)?" she asked. He merely shook his head in that enigmatic way of his that irritated her so much.

"Nothing at all, my dear."

"You're bleeding," she remarked with a frown, pointing at his sleeve. Ainan glanced at his wrist casually, finding his sleeve spattered with Legolas' dried blood. The little brat bleeds like a stuck pig, he thought disdainfully. But, he smiled reassuringly.

"Do not concern yourself, my baby sister."

"Stop treating me like a child, Ainan, I am not one any longer," she snapped angrily. "You have not been telling me anything and I demand to know what has been going on. Have you even sent out scouts to find my lord husband?" she wondered, her eyes narrowing. Ainan gave her a scornful smile in answer.

"You cannot possibly understand the pressures of ruling a Kingdom," he said dismissively. Anariel shot a look at him like a javelin.

"Actually, Ainan, I do."

"Only from the bed," he sneered, his lip curling. She bristled but he paid her no mind as he stood, his mien suddenly cold.

"I have been patient. I have been generous. But I will not tolerate… insubordination," he warned softly. He framed the Queen's small, beautiful face with his long, icy fingers.

"You are my little paper doll with whom I can do whatever I wish. And you will obey me in this." Anariel stared up at him in incomprehension for a moment. There was something wrong with her brother. He stared down at her almost menacingly, commanding her to bow to his every whim.

The Queen was no fool. She knew who her brother was- what he was. But she feared him. He had sent no scouts to search for the King and he had been remarkably callous towards the entire affair, willfully and even gleefully assuming the throne as soon as Thranduil was out of the way.

"What have you done with my husband?"

"You wound me, sister," he sighed with a highly affronted look as he stepped back from her. "The black thought of treachery sends a shiver up my very spine. How can you think that of me?"

Ainan's smile never wavered as he swayed closer. The malice was beginning to break through the icy mask of restraint her brother had built up and Anariel took a small step back as he towered menacingly over her. Then his face melted into a falsely warm smile though a hard edge lingered in his eyes.

"I have been nothing but supportive to your… husband- though he took from what me what rightfully has always been mine," he said quietly, anger tightening the hard planes of his face.

Suddenly, he darted forward and seized her wrist tightly. She shot a glance down at their interlocked hands.

"You believe me do you not, Anariel?" he hissed sibilantly.

"You're hurting me," she gasped, trying to pull away from him. He only tightened his grip further, staring down at her with a mad look in his eyes that she knew all too well. Ainan abruptly released her as a sharp knock sounded upon the heavy door.

"Yes?" he barked sharply.

"Sir," Kirar answered, standing in the doorway and saluting respectfully as he bowed to the Queen. "Your presence is requested- it is a matter of some urgency."

Ainan nodded and leaned in close.

"Be careful of whom you accuse, muinthel (sister)."

Legolas woke suddenly from a dream. For a moment, he forgot where he was and sat up abruptly, searching the strange bedroom in a blind panic until he recognized a familiar grey cloak draped over a chair back and sighed quietly. He was in Haldir's room.

Safe.

The little prince leaned back against the pillows, willing his heart to stop hammering but unease spiked through him and he sat up again, looking around the room, realizing the absence of its usual occupant.

Haldir hadn't returned yet.

Uneasiness plagued the young elf and he wondered why the older elf hadn't come back yet. It surely must have been hours for the moon no longer filtered through the curtains and the room was wholly dark. What if something horrible had happened? What if he had been captured or worse? And what of Lóthmir? Had they found him yet?

Fear shot through him and Legolas slid out from under the warm sheets. He glanced around and caught sight of Haldir's knife on the bedside table. Stooping swiftly, he seized it, hoping Haldir wouldn't mind for the blade gave the elf-prince comfort. Carefully, he edged out into the moonlit hallway and slid down it as silently as a ghost in search of his friends.

Haldir rubbed his hands across his face tiredly. They had been dodging lanterns and torches all night, creeping through the shadows to try to discover something of Ainan's movements. But nothing could they discover of his schemes or where he might have hidden away the elven child. The clandestine plans were well-hidden and the palace as silent as a grave.

Haldir didn't quite like the picture that presented. He hoped for the boy's own sake that his friend had stayed in the room. Legolas would be playing right into his uncle's hands if he was found now. The elf commander shook his head; what was he going to do now? He didn't know how he could manage to keep Legolas hidden and it wasn't right to try- though Ainan might not find him, neither would his mother. Should he tell the Queen? She had a right to know- but what if she was in league with Ainan? Impossible! No mother would hurt her son.

Would she?

Haldir bid Rameil a careful goodnight and urged him to come to him as soon as it was fully light. The elven commander fairly flew back to his room and carefully closed the door behind him. He frowned, noticing the rather lumpy shapeless mass beside an empty pillow. His scowl deepened as he tossed back the covers.

Gone!

Muttering imprecations under his breath, Haldir swiped a hand across his brow and immediately spun around, back out into the corridor in search of the wayward prince.

Legolas sighed quietly in despairing defeat. He had found nothing save the ghostly shadows of moonlight playing across the stone walls. A cold sweat had settled over him and the knife in his hand was slippery. He tightened his grip on it reassuringly as he padded back into the darkness, away from the windows that starkly illuminated his fair face in her light.

A dark menacing shadow suddenly loomed up over him and Legolas recoiled in fright, bringing up the knife almost before he realized he had. The shadow dodged the blade and seized his wrist. The knife clattered to the floor as the prince fought wildly.

"Legolas- Legolas, it's me! Stop it!"

Legolas ceased his struggles abruptly as the figure stepped into the light.

"Haldir," the relieved elfling breathed, relaxing slightly.

"What are you doing out of bed?" the older elf reproved quietly, disappointment in his tone as he stooped to scoop his knife off the floor. Legolas shifted uncomfortably.

"I was looking for you… when you didn't come back… I-"

Haldir felt his anger melt as he realized his young friend had been worried about him. He put a hand on the prince's shoulder.

"Come on," he said softly, steering him back down the hall. He didn't have the heart to scold the young prince: he would have done the same had it been one of his friends who had been missing.

"Did you find Lóthmir?" Legolas asked his eyes bright and hopeful as he looked up into the older elf's face; Haldir looked away.

"Not yet. We'll find him; don't worry." Haldir took a deep breath and stopped, causing Legolas to stop too as he knelt beside him.

"Legolas, listen to me carefully," Haldir said quietly, gripping the prince by the shoulders. "Does anyone else know about your uncle?" Legolas bit his lip.

"Telas. Telas might," he answered at last.

He had not seen his father's councilor since the fateful day he had asked of Telas' attacker. Legolas had long suspected his uncle of harming Telas and though the other elf had denied it- Ainan had others to aid him in his cruelty.

Haldir nodded and sprang to his feet, seizing the young elf by his uninjured wrist.

"Come on then."

The healer's ward was dark and silent when they at last made their way through its dim passage.

"He's down here," Legolas whispered, approaching a door on his right. He eased into the silent chamber and glanced at the bed where a bar of moonlight slid through the high windows- revealing empty sheets and fluffed pillows.

"He's not here," Legolas whispered quietly, stepping back across the threshold, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed up over them and a bright yellow light dazzled their eyes making them step back in sudden alarm and throw their forearms up to shield their face from the brilliance.

"Your highness, what are you doing here at this hour? Do you need something?" It was the healer's assistant and household servant, Vanima. She slowly lowered the lamp enough so they could see her face. Legolas sighed softly in relief and Haldir took his hand from his sword hilt.

"Telas- where is he?" Legolas asked.

The servant shook her head slowly, her face grave.

"I'm sorry, my prince. He has passed on to Mandos' care now." Legolas felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Telas was gone…? The golden-haired prince cast a defeated look at Haldir who stood in the shadows, his face without expression but his eyes cast to the floor.

"You know," the healer's frown was thoughtful and puzzled and they turned back to look at her. "It was really odd. He was making such good progress too. His health was much better…"

Legolas looked up at her, carefully hiding the anguish he felt. He thanked her and looked back up at Haldir who had more or less guessed the truth of the matter now.

"Do not leave my sight, Legolas. Not even for an instant," Haldir warned him sternly, laying a firm hand on the prince's shoulder as he steered him back along the corridor.

With heavy steps, they trudged down the hall.

Legolas flopped listlessly onto the bed when they had returned to Haldir's room. He did not move for a long moment. Sleep eluded him though as he thought of Telas and Cálivien and how many others who had died? And of his friend: cold and hungry, lying in some dungeon cell- in his uncle's hands. Ainan would find out. They would be caught and Lóthmir would die- might already be dead. And then, Ainan would come after him and Haldir, Legolas thought, near to shaking with cold fear.

He felt so helpless. He couldn't stand this hideous waiting stay here and do nothing any longer- he had to do something! He would not allow his friends to suffer anymore on his account.

"I'm sorry, Haldir," Legolas whispered, pulling the cloak closer up around his sleeping friend's shoulders.

"Please don't worry," He murmured as he slipped silently out of the room and down the darkened hallway.

Chapter Text

Sepulchral silence plagued his footsteps as the young prince wandered the empty halls of his home. He didn't want to do this; the darkness pressed against his senses and cold fear chilled his limbs. But a new determination had settled over his fear: he had to rescue his friend even if he himself was captured. It didn't matter. Rather would he face anything so long as his friend lived.

The elf-child's footsteps noiselessly padded down the steep spiraling staircase that he lightly and cautiously eased down. The torches sputtered on their sconces, unlit by the servants who had long since gone to bed. Down into the very bowels of the palace he trod, not knowing quite where he was going. The underground caverns were vast and hiding places nearly endless- how could he hope to find his friend down here? And even if he could find him- how would he get him out from under his uncle's very nose?

These thoughts beleaguered Legolas as the pungent scent of damp stone filled his nostrils and the dim hallway darkened still more. Nevertheless, he had to try. He was deep under the palace now, far from the Great Hall and the Elves' quarters.

Far from any aid.

Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, Legolas flitted through the oppressive darkness of his home. He stopped at a cross passage where the one he stood upon ran on into the darkness and another cut across it, heading left and downwards or right and downwards. Legolas knew that the right hand passage would take him to the cellars and the stream that fed the swift Forest River. But the forward passage and the left hewn one were unfamiliar to him.

Taking a deep unsteady breath, he chose the left and plunged down more narrow, spiraling stairs, slick with moisture. The further down he traveled, the darker and wetter it became until water dripped from the very ceiling onto his head. He swiped the droplets from his brow, his nose wrinkling at the damp, forsaken smell of the place. He halted as he followed a curve of the tunnel and found himself in a wider corridor where torches had been suddenly kindled. Legolas rubbed the spots that had popped into life before his eyes after such a long time in the dark.

When his eyes had adjusted to this new light, he looked around at the corridor that stretched on before him. There were rows upon rows of cells intermittently on either side of him: sturdy wooden doors with only iron bars at the top of the door to allow any light or view of those inside. Legolas had never been in the dungeons before and now he knew why. It was a dark, horribly cheerless place with an unwholesome air of neglect about it.

Hesitatingly, the fair prince stretched up on his toes and peered into one of the cells.

Empty.

He moved onto the next one with the same result.

Maybe all of them were empty, Legolas thought hopefully, feeling a small measure of relief. But then a voice spoke and startled him so badly he nearly fell over in shock.

"Who is there?" a voice called out. A familiar voice.

Legolas hastened towards the sound, wondering if he should answer.

"I can hear you out there. Answer me and stop skulking in the shadows, you craven coward!" the voice spat angrily. Legolas blinked and stopped before the left cell midway down the corridor. He grabbed the bars and looked in.

"Tirien?" he asked quietly.

There came a rushed rattle as though of hastily moved chains from within.

"Prince Legolas?" responded the voice eagerly. "Praise Valar, you're still alive!"

"You're in here?" Legolas asked, squinting into the dark cell as he saw the beginning of a pale outline in the dark. His father's friend and captain of the Royal Guard stared forlornly back at him, shackled at ankles and wrists as he shuffled forward to peer through the bars at the prince.

"What are you doing down here, Legolas?" he asked softly, his voice hoarse as though from disuse- or shouting. His usually sleek hair was unkempt and tangled, matted with filth and worse things. He looked as though he had been beaten- repeatedly- for marvelous bruises attacked his right eye, swelling it closed, and a glorious lump marred his jaw. Legolas looked away from that questioning, sorrow-filled gaze, wondering if the elf-captain knew of his son's disappearance.

"I-I'm looking for someone," he answered lamely, another twinge of guilt twisting his insides for another lie that left his lips. Tirien frowned slightly.

"Who?"

Legolas shifted still more uncomfortably under that now-searching gaze. He swallowed and closed his eyes momentarily.

"You haven't seen my father down here have you, Tirien?" he asked desperately, not having the heart to tell the elf of his son hoping beyond hope for news of his father- he couldn't believe Thranduil was dead.

Slowly, the elven guard shook his head.

"I have not. Though there are many down here, I think." A dirty hand raked through snagged golden strands in thought. "I do not know how long I've been down here… so many… But, no, your father I have not seen."

Legolas felt his heart sink lower. He wished he had some hope to give to the distraught guard. But he had none left even for himself. He choked off the bitter tears of hatred and helplessness that threatened to rise out of him and looked up at the elven commander with a steady gaze.

"You must go, Legolas- you can't be found here," Tirien urged suddenly, his forehead pressed to the bars as though he were listening intently.

"I'll find a way to free you, Tirien, I promise," Legolas swore, hastening down the hall with a backward glance.

"Valar bless you, child," he heard the faint whisper echo back at him as he jogged down the hall and turned the corner, leaving the cells behind him.

And ran straight into Kirar.

The lieutenant seized him by the upper arms to keep him from falling, startled into immobility by the prince's sudden appearance. Legolas, in turn, was frightened and managed to throw off the surprised soldier's arms before he recognized the face staring down at him.

"Legolas? What are you doing down here?" Kirar demanded, sounding almost enraged. The prince looked up at his tutor in shock and sudden fear though he didn't know why he was afraid of his teacher.

"I-I-"

"No, Legolas, you cannot be down here now," Kirar interrupted fervently, gripping the younger elf's arms in a painfully tight grasp. His thin face was nearly frantic and he kept looking nervously over his shoulder. He still looked the worse for wear with his lip cut and a wondrously bruised cheek. Legolas stared up at him, wondering how he had come by those wounds.

Burning green eyes bored alarmingly into his own.

"Legolas, you must get back to the upper halls. I don't want to catch you down here again, do you understand me?"

The elf prince nodded, wincing slightly as the soldier pressed on his still sore wrist Only now did he fully realize how much his back was hurting him and the combined pain made his eyes water. Kirar abruptly released him and Legolas staggered backwards, catching himself against the wall and scraping his tender back painfully as he did so.

"Y-you won't tell anyone will you?" he asked shakily, still startled by the sudden pain that throbbed through him. Kirar hesitated a moment but he quickly collected himself and nodded.

"Of course not- if you go now."

Legolas nodded and vanished from his teacher's sight.

What in the world was going on down here? Filled cells… the captain of the guard a prisoner in the palace he had sworn to protect… his teacher skulking down here as well and still no sign of Lóthmir. Legolas raked his hair back over his shoulder in frustration. Part of him just wanted to obey Kirar's last words and abandon this foolish, futile mission. He was exhausted in body and spirit and his mind was weighted down with questions and fears and horrors that he couldn't ease.

But the other half of him had sworn not to rest until he had found his friend and seen him safely back to his home. But what kind of home would it be if he couldn't free Tirien as well? Lóthmir's mother must be worried sick.

Legolas straightened his shoulders despite his quailing heart and flagging spirit and glanced around at his surroundings. He didn't know where he was. None of this looked familiar. Hoping chance would smile on him for once, he chose a direction and began walking. Other tunnels and paths crisscrossed his own but Legolas kept on as straight as he could, praying that he would find something familiar in this desolate place he hadn't even known existed beneath his beloved home.

A warm wind struck his face and Legolas lifted his head, feeling the breeze kiss the icy sweat on his brow. Following it, he strained his ears for anything. He would almost have welcomed his uncle if only he could get out of this accursed labyrinth. Once or twice he thought he heard a sound but it was too muffled by the stone to distinguish.

The stone path laid before his feet stretched endlessly on before him and now Legolas seriously regretted his choice as he groped in blackness darker than pitch. The prince opened and closed his eyes a few times to see if it made any difference- it didn't. Suddenly, his heart lifted.

Up ahead he could discern a faint light- not daylight, it was still too late for that. But an orange light- wavering like a torch but greater and stronger. Legolas hastened towards it, forcing his aching legs on further. His back burned but he ignored it, concentrating on his breathing, on making it. A sound echoed back to meet him and the young elf immediately slowed.

Someone had screamed.

Slowly, Legolas eased forward, his hands beginning to shake with fear as he tried to block out the horrible, tormented sounds more like the agonized moans of a dying animal than any elf. But he could not prevent those wretched noises from reaching his ears no matter how hard he tried. A side passage opened before him and he took it, beginning to run in hopes of escaping the horrible sounds and memories of his own that overwhelmed him as he forced his protesting muscles onward. Legolas stopped so fast he slid on the slick stone and fell on his back.

The echoes had misled him.

Instead of running away, he had run straight into that which he wished most to avoid.

He had emerged at the tip of a long, low chamber, adorned with all sorts of monstrous cruelties hanging on the walls and littering the floor. A great furnace of hot coals in a pit in the center of the chamber flung a vast hot wind throughout the room and spat forth hot embers. The tortured elf hung from manacles attached to the ceiling several feet above it. Legolas could not see his face and saw only the back of his head. His bleeding, trembling body in the flickering firelight was overmatched only by the sadistic glee on the face of his tormenter.

The dark-haired elf turned at the sound behind him with hands akimbo, glaring down at the terrified form nearly lying at his feet as he swung the glowing poker in his long fingers. Legolas scrambled up and raced as fast as he could back down the hall, his heart leaping up into his throat.

"Legolas!" That horrid, haunted voice chilled his blood and leant wings to his feet pain forgotten, as he all but flew down the corridor, bounding up the stairs with the agility of a hunted hart. He could hear rapid footsteps at his heels and he forced his aching legs to take him faster, further. He hurtled down the corridor, swerving left or right as chance permitted, not caring in what direction he was heading so long as it was as far away from the pursuing elf as he could get.

He broke through a high archway and found himself in a cavernous hall which he didn't recognize in the near pitch blackness. He pushed forcefully onward into the night, stumbling when he could no longer see his feet in front of him, groping blindly in the dark and free air for anything. He stopped abruptly as his fingertips scraped against cold rough stone and he discovered that it was a tall, grey wall. He felt along it and realized that it was a pillar which he hastily ducked behind as the unsteady light of a torch pierced the unlit darkness.

The dark elf who hunted him paused under the archway, his near-black eyes wide and glittering like oil in the inconstant light that sent shadows scrabbling across his angular face. He stepped forward soundlessly, the torch raised high to send the revealing light staining the ground like blood and reflecting off the gilded marble pillars on either side of the chamber.

"Le hiruvan, tithen. (I will find you, little one.)" he hissed softly into the silence as he prowled through the room, entwining around each pillar searchingly. The long knife at his belt shimmered as he drew it with a whisper from its sheath. He paced closer now and Legolas knew that if he didn't do something, he'd be found. Groping blindly in the dark, he came upon a loose chunk in the pillar. With a small struggle, he managed to pry it from its berth and flung it as far from him as he could into the darkness.

Tindómëtir's head snapped around and he leapt towards the noise with a vicious snarl; his wicked knife raised and the torch flickering madly in his hand.

Legolas slipped around behind the dark elf's back; with his heart thundering so loudly, he feared it would betray him he skittered out of the vaulted chamber and into a narrow hallway. Sweat dripping down his temples and into his eyes, he dashed down the corridor as fast as he could,

Something caught him in the ankles and he crashed to the ground, striking his chin hard on the granite floor. Rubbing his jaw, Legolas rolled over, trying to push away from this new threat but strong arms seized him by the collar and dragged him upright. He struggled and managed to break free from his captor but something stopped him from fleeing.

The blue moonlight filtering through the narrow shaft of light that peeked through a chink in the stone threw his captor's face into sharp profile and glittered in distinct tendrils of crimson hair.

"Nárvenien?" he spat, wondering how long this woman would torment him before she was finished. He tasted blood on his tongue from where he had cut his lip against his teeth. Meanwhile, his eyes darted nervously down the corridor, searching for his sinister pursuer.

"I've seen you ride," she said in a completely unexpected subject, looking thoughtfully down at his still-swollen wrist as though nothing had happened.

"And even you aren't stupid enough to fall off your horse." Legolas didn't know whether to feel complimented or insulted and settled for confused. He merely stared at her and she shrugged.

"Don't worry. I'll hold them off," she said quietly, tossing her head backwards with a knowing smile. Legolas looked at her strangely.

"What?"

She sighed with exasperation and glanced backwards.

"Get out of here! Do as I say, little prince!" she snarled, giving him a shove down the corridor.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked suspiciously though every sense was screaming at him to run. Nárvenien shrugged.

"The sooner you're out of my hair- the better. I'm not doing you any favors, little prince. Maybe I'll get lucky and a spider'll kill you- or if you don't hasten, someone else will," she added with a wicked smile.

Legolas swallowed his uneasiness at those words and walked down the hall, breaking into a run after he turned the corner. As Nárvenien watched the prince turn the corner and disappear, two disembodied hands rested on her shoulders.

"Excellent," a voice hissed in her ear and the fiery woman hung her head.

There was only one place he could truly lose himself.

The forest.

Legolas had found his way back up to the main hall and there was no sound of pursuit behind him. But he knew.

His uncle had eyes and ears everywhere.

There was only one place he could be safer than he was here. Out in the forest, he might be killed. If he stayed here, he would be. Flitting down towards the entrance hall with no more a noise than a ghost's shadow, he ran a hand along the massive and heavily barred gate of his home.

The bolt slid back before him as though by magic and the prince slipped through the crack that opened just wide enough for him. The gate thudded closed behind him as he passed through.

Legolas' heart beat a rapid staccato in his breast as, ducking into a low crouch, he skittered down the marble stairs and across the path, sidling around the thorn bushes close to the enchanted forest river. He leapt the small stream which the river was at its source near the elves' palace- away from the sight of the guards. He looked back once at the tall palace that had been his home for as long as he could remember. Loneliness and fear pierced him through like an icicle.

Snow was falling. The white flakes whipped down from the sky, buffeted this way and that by the harsh, unforgiving wind. The snow filled his eyes and coated his shoulders, shivering down the back of his neck as he raced on, on beneath the dark trees.

Haldir tossed and turned restlessly in his chair. There was no pounding of his heart or shortening of breath, he simply awoke and found himself staring at the ceiling with such a pain in his heart he nearly sobbed though, for a moment, he couldn't recall why. Then he remembered… Cálivien… Haldir shuddered and glanced around at the dark corners of his room.

A soft breeze sweeping through the slightly ajar window kissed his sweat-soaked brow as Haldir stared up at the ceiling, trying to slide back into the safe realm of elven dreams.

But now, Cálivien's lifeless face floated before his mind's eye, blood dribbling from his white lips, his green eyes vacant and staring. Haldir shook his head and ground his palms into his eyes to try to bore that image out but it would not leave him.

Knowing he would not be able to sleep after this, Haldir tossed back the cloak from his legs and rose from the chair, shivering slightly as the cold air brushed his chilled skin. He glanced at the bed blearily. The small bundle beneath the sheets was quiet and still. At least, Legolas slept. He would be safe here if Haldir left him for a little while.

He draped a dark green robe about his shoulders, hung on a wooden peg for just such a purpose and, after a moment of consideration, he lifted his saber from where it had lain propped against the wall. He strapped it to his side and immediately felt more secure.

Haldir eased open the door to his room and peered out into the hall. Still nothing, he chided himself. He slid down the hall like a ghost, searching the empty, silent halls for- well, he wasn't quite sure what. The moon guided his way, lighting the path before his feet as she filtered through the emerald windows. The slightly greenish light on the soft red carpet before him looked ominously like blood on spring leaves.

Haldir shook his head to banish that useless thought and concentrated on his surroundings, on listening for even the slightest noise, on anything other than the memories and turmoil of thoughts that plagued him. Still, no matter how hard he tried, that prickle of growing fear crawled up his spine and lifted the hairs on the back of his neck. His stomach clenched uncomfortably and he glanced over his shoulder, his hand inching towards the hilt of his saber. He stopped, listening to the empty silence. He turned so that he faced a dark wooden door on the right side of the hallway. He was not entirely sure which part of the palace he was in but he would be damned if he was caught unprepared.

Carefully, he backed as far away from the doorway as he could. His shoulder hit the window with a thud and he jumped, twisting swiftly to face the emerald panes. His own white visage reflected in the glass. Something creaked behind him and he turned again.

"Who is there?" he challenged in a harsh whisper.

"Haldir?" the voice hissed. The elven commander whirled round as the voice came from beside him, his eyes wide as he peered into the shadowed doorway, knowing he was illuminated in the revealing moonlight. The silver luminescence gleamed on the razor-edged steel of his blade as he drew it with a hiss.

The door opened wider and a shadowy shape slipped through. Haldir kept his back carefully against the stone wall as the figure stepped into the moonlight; the elven commander breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Ancadal's face in the light. He lowered his blade, feeling suddenly foolish. His subordinate's eyes flickered over the naked blade and his commander in his nightclothes.

"Is everything all right, sir?" he asked cautiously, closing the door carefully behind him. Haldir sheathed his sword, buying time as he thought of how he should answer that. Should he concern the younger elf with his troubles- his guilt over the death of Cálivien, his fears for Legolas, Ainan…? Haldir shook his head firmly- to give voice to his fears would be to give them a reality.

And he was so tired.

In the long silence, Ancadal guessed his commander's thoughts and sighed, walking up to stand beside Haldir in the dim corridor.

"You are troubled," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. Haldir acquiesced with a weary nod, his eyes fixed on the scarlet carpet as he felt the blood rise in his cheeks.

"Do you wish to speak of it?" The elf captain turned away as he fought down the well of emotions threatening to burst his heart asunder. Grief, guilt, anger, sorrow… He shook his head.

"No." But that was a lie. He wanted- he needed to speak of it. It was destroying him inside- gnawing at his heart like poison. But Ancadal was not the one he could confide in. He could not understand.

"Are you sure?" The elf pressed, frowning slightly as he saw his commander's absent, vacant-eyed look. "Sir?" Haldir shook himself out of whatever dark thoughts he had fallen into and turned to his subordinate.

"No. I'm fine, Ancadal. Go back to sleep." So saying, Haldir quickly walked away before the stunned elf could say anything further.

Once he was sure that the halls around him were empty again and he was far from Ancadal's sight, Haldir walked out onto a high terrace that stood close to the elvish gardens favored by the Queen and so boasted of by the King. He leaned his elbows on the cool stone, relishing in the feel of the cool breeze against his nightmare-heated skin.

He did not close his eyes, afraid of what he would see behind them but left them open to the night. An owl hooted somewhere nearby and the skittering of what might have been a spider in the undergrowth reached his ears. But for that, the night was quiet. The faint scent of lavender drifted up to him from the darkness and Haldir breathed it in deeply- the sweet scent calming his jangled nerves.

His thoughts turned inward to Legolas with the familiar fragrance. He hoped the little prince was all right- safe and warm in his room, away from his uncle's ruthless clutches. But, his heart ached for his young friend.

"Commander? What are you doing out here at this hour?"

Haldir turned, wondering how many more surprises he could take this night and suddenly embarrassed to find himself facing the Queen of Mirkwood, wrapped in a white embroidered robe and a paler visage. The dark honey of her hair- so like her brother's- sparkled in the moonlight as she glided up to him, taking in his bedraggled appearance and the sword girded at his hip.

"It seems everyone is restless this night," Haldir remarked dryly. Anariel smiled sadly and looked out over the gardens.

"Yes," she agreed simply. Haldir cast a sideways glance at her.

"What troubles your sleep, Lady?" he asked quietly. Anariel sighed.

"Old memories," she admitted with a sad, half-smile that did not dare light her beautiful countenance. "And yours, Commander?" Haldir's lips lifted in the parody of a smile as he ran his hands over the embossed gold of Cálivien's sword- his sword.

"New ones." The Queen's compassionate countenance softened with sadness as she looked at his downcast face.

"You feel as though you failed him," she guessed shrewdly.

His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes against the burning in the back of his throat.

"I did."

Ignoring formal protocol, she reached out and placed a compassionate hand on his shoulder, drawing his eyes.

"That was no fault of yours- you could not have prevented your friend's… death," she said softly, unused to speaking such a word in reference to an elf.

"I suppose no more than you could have prevented Legolas' injuries…" Haldir trailed off. The Queen's brow darkened.

"His riding accident?" She smiled slightly. "Children will be reckless."

Haldir blinked in surprise.

"Riding?" He turned sharply to stare at her. "You don't know?" At her bemused look, he ran a bewildered hand through his ragged hair.

"I-I thought Legolas would surely have told you…" Anariel's face whitened a shade and her eyes hardened.

"What happened? What happened to my son, Commander?" Her grip tightened on his arm. Haldir glanced at her, searching her face. He frowned slightly, hesitating. There was no reason she shouldn't know- she had every right to know! And yet, Haldir had promised to Legolas that he would say nothing. Haldir shook his head slowly, his decision made.

He told her. Almost everything- he left out the truly grisly parts as her face grew so white he feared she might collapse. She leaned on his arm now. When he finished, she was silent for a long moment, her eyes unfocused. She shook herself at last and looked up at him, her angelic mien ghostly in the moonlight.

"You know of what you speak- it is a serious offense," she said quietly. Haldir looked her straight in the eye and she had her answer. But still, she shook her head firmly, yet unwilling to believe it of her own kin.

"My- my brother wouldn't dare hurt my child. He- he-" she faltered, horror rising in her eyes as realization dawned on her. Legolas had been so quiet! So subdued. He wouldn't talk or eat… His wrist…

"You have been deceived, my Lady," Haldir said softly into the spiraling silence. The Queen shook her head, her hands clasping her ears as though she wished to block out his words that she refused to believe though in her mother's heart, she knew. Had always known. Something was and had been very, very wrong for a long time.

"Legolas has been hurt- and badly- by someone you trusted, I know," Haldir said gently, touching her forearm. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she folded suddenly into his arms soundlessly. Haldir awkwardly wrapped his arms around her as she clung to him. He could feel her tears soaking into his tunic. After a while, she sniffed and withdrew embarrassingly from him.

"Now you know how I feel," she said quietly with a small, wry smile. "I, too, am guilty." Abruptly, she took a step back and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"Where can I find my son?"

Chapter Text

Legolas ran until he could run no more. His legs buckled beneath him and he tumbled to the ground, shaking against the bole of a large beech tree that overhung the river. He had traveled maybe two leagues in the last three hours, stumbling in the cold and dark of early morning. Dawn was not far away now and the first slivers of white light heralding the sun tinged the treetops' branches gilded with frosted dew. A cold, damp mist hung over the river. Gradually, his fear of discovery roused him once more and he forced himself up onto trembling legs.

Following the narrow path that paralleled the river, he traveled on a mile more, stooping only once to slake his thirst in the ice-encrusted river. The water was so cold it seized up his throat and hit his stomach as though he'd swallowed a fistful of snow. But at the very least his thirst was slaked.

Then he realized that he was hungry- he had not had time to pack a waterskin or even a loaf of bread and he had nothing to hunt with anyway. Though the cold did not trouble him greatly yet- he knew that even his elven body could not resist everything for long periods of time without his cloak. He had no idea how long he would be out here and his wounds hurt worse than ever now with the cold seeping into his aching bones.

He would probably be searched for on the main road- not on this little deer path. Though Legolas knew he should leave the river- he dared not for fear of losing his way. He was not yet beyond his father's lands but the border guards were situated more to the south nearer to the menace of Dol Guldor rather than Laketown. Legolas wondered if he could walk far enough to reach that land of Men.

The full moon gleamed softly upon the white-shrouded world. Silent. Calm. Legolas' golden hair shimmered under the white light as he watched the soft glow of the beautiful moon on the smooth snow and the play of the spindly branches in the southern wind. The floodplain stretched out below him, level and straight, receding into the wide, dark land before it was lost in a haze at the edges of his sight. And Legolas again felt the sharp pang of loneliness pierce him like a knife.

He couldn't do this… maybe he should go back… Legolas actually stopped and glanced over his shoulder downriver where the sight of the palace had been long lost by a curve in the stream. He shook his head; there was no way he could return now. His uncle would surely kill him.

Casting aside such dark doubt and fear by sheer force of will, the young prince pushed recklessly on into the woods, leaping snowdrifts and vanishing quickly into the mist.

The red sun broke the tops of the trees and illuminated the waving branches with a rosy glow. A light snow lay upon the ground though it would become deeper the further they traveled into the forest. Above the fiery orb of the sun, dark clouds hung in a hazy sky. The black river was shrouded with mists curling up along its banks as the bared trees creaked over it.

Haldir watched the late winter sun wash the black marble stones around him amber. Despite the beauty around him, his heart was heavy. Despairingly, he hung his head: he should never have left Legolas alone! He struck his fist against the marble pillar he leaned against in frustration and self-loathing- which only succeeded in hurting his hand.

He brushed a hand across his tired, aching eyes. Neither he nor the Queen had slept last night when they realized Legolas had vanished. Neither hide nor hair of him could be discovered and Haldir's stomach twisted into knots as he thought of everything and anything that could have happened to the young prince in the time he had been missing.

What if it happened again? And he would find another barrel with Legolas inside… Haldir shuddered inwardly; it did not bear thinking about; he would drive himself mad with the what-if's and whyfor's. But his own thoughts would not be silenced and each clamored louder than the other: why was he still waiting? What for? Why was he not hunting down that foul serpent that served as a 'King' and demand an answer from him?

The fact was, there was very little he could actually do. They were already treading a thinning line and should Ainan suspect any threat, he could take immediate and deadly action. They could not afford that if there was still a slim chance that Legolas might be alive.

His brooding thoughts were interrupted as the sound of a soft footstep reached his ear. Haldir turned quickly, every muscle tense and rigid.

Serkë jumped as the elf whirled towards him and backed away nervously. Telas' son and new councilor to the King, looked rather out of place out of doors. He looked like the kind of elf who spent his long hours in a study scribbling figures in a leather tome or in a wing backed armchair in the library.

When Haldir showed no signs of attacking him, he stepped forward slowly.

"I-I wanted to speak with you- briefly."

Haldir nodded for him to continue. Serkë twitched again and licked his lips, his eyes darting around the courtyard.

"They say you are traitors…of a witch's realm," he began, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

"You mean that is what Ainan has told you," Haldir answered coolly, his eyes narrowing. Serkë stepped back a pace to put more distance between the taller elf and himself. For a moment, he appraised the elf captain as though sizing him up and an oddly shrewd look passed over his face. Haldir quickly grew impatient with the other's staring.

"I trust you have more important things to do than to tell me that?" he prompted.

At that, the councilor shook himself from his reverie and stepped in closer.

"You need to find him quickly," Serkë said softly, with a hasty glance around the courtyard as though he feared listening ears. "I fear the worst."

Haldir looked at the elf, feeling a thrum of fear shoot through his veins. Something about the way he had spoken made the Lórien commander edgy. How did this elf know of their search?

"What do you mean?"

Serkë shifted uncomfortably again, wringing the long sleeves of his robes.

"Certain… certain goings-on have been occurring. The King… the prince," his face darkened and a look of pain passed across his face. "My father…"

Haldir nodded sympathetically.

"I am sorry for your loss."

The councilor waved it away with a flick of his hand as though he had heard those words far too many times already. He wrung his hands again.

"I should not be seen speaking with you," His eyes narrowed slightly. "And I do not know if you are the one I would trust with so grave an errand but…"

Haldir wondered what that meant and frowned slightly but the councilor rattled on as though desperate to release the words he had kept inside for so long before he lost the last shreds of his courage.

"You must find the prince. That is of the uttermost importance."

"Do you know where he is?" Haldir demanded, eagerly stepping towards the elf.

Serkë shook his head, backing swiftly away.

"No. But King Ainan will have my head if I am seen conversing with you."

"He is no king- that traitor is nothing but a malefactor," Haldir countered angrily.

"Shhh! Speak not so loudly!" the councilor entreated with another nervous glance around the still halls. "I will say no more."

Still shaking with anger and frustration, Haldir watched him retreat back into the dark halls and vanish. With a sigh, Haldir felt his anger drain away to confusion as he leaned his head back against the pillar. That had provided no answers only more unanswerable questions!

How many more would he discover with hidden agendas and dark secrets unearthed? His eyes darted up towards the arched walls of the palace rearing sharply over his head. What unseen eyes watched them from those high windows? Guarding their every move, calculating their every step before they even made it?

If anything happens to my child, Ainan, you will pay for it! Anariel vowed silently as she stalked through the halls of her home. She didn't care that he was the so-called King, her brother. She held no one above reproach when it came to the safety of her child; Ainan could press her for only so long, she could only take so much. All fear and shame had to be forced aside.

It didn't matter what he would do to her only so long as she found out where Legolas was.

Trying to walk at a moderately sedate pace in face of her anxiety, the Queen of Mirkwood searched fruitlessly for her brother and finally found him in the library, surrounded by several of his people. All looked up as the Queen stood before them, her long golden hair thrown back, her fists clenched at her sidesin a clear state of agitation.

"Out!" she fairly barked and at a quick glance and curt nod from their master, the other elves made their departure, leaving brother and sister alone.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Ainan requested coolly, looking her up and down with what seemed mild curiosity.

Anariel rounded furiously on him.

"Where is my son?" she demanded.

"Oh, that." Ainan sniffed dismissively, facing his back to her. She gripped his arm painfully tight and wrenched him around to face her. He hid his surprise at this insurrection well and easily disentangled himself from her grip.

"Such a temper this early, dear sister? I have not seen you in such a state in a long while," he smiled, gently mocking. But she was in mood for games.

"Tell me where he is, son of a serpent or I shall kill you here and now!" she hissed, staring fearlessly up into his eyes. She didn't care anymore- her son was in danger! Ainan's eyes narrowed.

"Kill me?" he sneered. "You couldn't lift a finger against me when we were mere children. What makes you think you can do so now?"

Without a word, she drew her hand back and struck him across the face with all of the strength that years of pain, grief, humiliation and helpless rage had built up inside of her. His head snapped violently to one side even as he stumbled backwards in shock and amazement, a pale hand to his cheek.

"How dare you!" he spat, glancing at the blood on his fingertips.

"I dared, Ainan," she rejoined with a defiant toss of her head. "And it took me over four hundred years to do so. But you are no longer in control- of me or the kingdom. It is slipping through your fingers faster than you can grasp it."

"I am the King," he bellowed, his face twisted with desperate rage. "I am in control and no other!"

Like a viper, he darted forward and seized her by the throat, nearly lifting her off her feet as he slammed her against the wall viciously. Reflexively, her small hands clenched around his wrist tightly, trying to wrest his grip from her but he was far too strong. Her vision swam with black dots as she strove to draw breath into her empty lungs.

Realizing he was close to killing her, Ainan eased his hold.

Anariel inhaled violently and sprawled at the wall's foot with her own white hand to her bruised neck, massaging the tender flesh.

"As it happens I have no idea where your brat is- I have not seen him since yestereve," Ainan snorted carelessly, as though nothing had happened.

"You beast," she threw back at him, her eyes shining with furious tears.

He ignored her and walked away, his thoughts churning, Legolas was gone? Ainan blinked, genuinely confused as he tried to gather his thoughts. Then as realization sank in his brow darkened. The little urchin had decided to run!

His heart burning with furious anger, he stalked towards the throne room where his captains awaited him. All three of them looked up sharply as the doors flew open to admit their master, wild-eyed and in a towering temper.

"Well?" he snapped when none spoke. "What have you to say for yourselves?"

"Sire, the Lórien traitors are nowhere to be found- we have searched all of their rooms and the gardens. None of the servants have seen them since yestereve."

For a moment, Ainan looked downright murderous and the others stepped back before his wrath. But just as quickly as the storm had come, it abated and he smiled- almost benignly at his servants.

They shivered.

"Well, it seems all is not lost after all."

The self-proclaimed king swept past them and seated himself upon the grand, finely carved throne onthe white marble dais, seemingly unperturbed by the knowledge that both of his quarries had disappeared in the same evening. He laid his hands on the ornate arms, his midnight blue sleeves sweeping the sides.

With an arrogant snap of his fingers, he commanded Tindómëtir to his side.

"Our prince has been kidnapped by the Lórien traitors- I want them found!" he rapped out, his silver-blue eyes flashing.

As Kirar and his fellow soldiers bowed and quickly quit the room, Ainan smirked privately and turned to his servant.

"So, Legolas has tried to undo us by running. We shall have to teach him otherwise, eh?" So saying, he elbowed the stoic elf beside him in the ribs with a cruel chuckle. Finding him unresponsive, Ainan sighed and glanced back at him in mock-despair.

"Really, you are dull." With a sad shake of his head, his demeanor abruptly changed to seriousness again. "What have you to say for your incompetence?"

Tindómëtir did not move at the insult, seemed hardly to register it but for a dark flicker in his eyes as he rounded the dais to stand before his lord.

"They know, hir-nin (my lord). The Lórien 'traitors' discovered the burnt corpse of their companion and have discovered our other… agenda."

"Such as?" Ainan asked, leaning forward with interest for the first time that morning.

"The prisoners," Tindómëtir answered simply. Ainan brushed a hand across his face, his gaze cast to the marble floor in thought as he laid a beringed finger against his upper lip.

"And my sister knows too- at least in part- I shall have to wring her further to find out what else she has hidden from me. But until then…" He rose from his seat and turned towards his subordinate.

"Find them- all of them. If Legolas has indeed vanished then he must be returned. Unharmed," he emphasized, lifting a warning finger at the dark-haired elf. "It will not do for the elven people to lose their beloved king and prince in so short a time. They will ask questions. Questions we do not want to have to answer. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my lord," Tindómëtir responded dutifully, his face still utterly without expression.

"As for the emissaries of Lothlórien…" Ainan said almost casually as he began to walk away, examining the wide tapestry before him expressively-a wide battleground where a brightly armored host of elves stood before black hordes of orcs and all manners of evil creatures of war.

"They are undoubtedly aiding in the search. Find the prince before they do or it will be your head I will have instead of theirs." He spoke so negligently, as though he were discussing the weather rather than threatening someone's life. He tapped his temple knowledgably with a wicked smile.

"Remove the head and the snake ceases to wriggle- bring their leader to me. Alive."

"Kill the others."

The dark-haired elf bowed to his master and followed on the heels of Kirar's guard.

"There was no lie in his eyes," Anariel explained as she shook her head. "He didn't know…" Her eyes clouded over with grief and she shook her head again to clear it. Her mother's heart was breaking: she had been so blind!

"Where else could he be?" Haldir asked, running a hand through his hair absently. "He couldn't-"

"He ran away," a voice said.

Both elves spun towards the voice to see a red-haired elf woman watching them from underneath one of the arches on the side porch. Haldir frowned in puzzlement, searching back in his memory for this woman's name.

"Nárvenien, is it not?" he asked cautiously. At her nod of agreement, he continued. "Since you seem to know whom we speak of- do you know where Legolas is?"

The woman did not turn and her lips barely moved as she spoke, as though she didn't want to be overhead; the two leaned forward to catch her words as she answered.

"He ran away- I saw him last night. He went into the forest."

She pointed off into the blue distance along the black river, moving west along the river. Anariel and Haldir stared at her in astonishment as she abruptly sauntered away and disappeared down the hall.

For a moment, they stood there, rooted in shock and confused.

"Does she speak the truth?" Anariel asked hesitantly, knowing the cold noblewoman's daughter better than most as the one her son most often quarreled with.

"It is a starting point," Haldir said, not quite agreeing. Anariel looked away thoughtfully and the elf captain, divining her thought, nodded.

"Be assured I will immediately search for him, lady. But, if I may-" He waited for her encouraging nod. "We could use reinforcements- why not ask Tirien and his guard to aid us?" he asked, naming the commander of the Mirkwood barracks. The Queen's shadowed eyes hardened.

"Tirien has been strangely absent for days," she said softly, her brow furrowing. "I fear that I have too often placed my trust in my soldiers- and now my son and husband are missing. There is no one left to turn to," she explained shortly. Haldir nodded, accepting without question as he too had been beginning to wonder at the loyalty of the guards as Ainan's power increased.

"I need to find my son, Captain," She recalled his attention. "Will you help me?"

"We shall do what we can," he answered immediately with a curt nod of his head. His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced at the ring of bruises he could just see beneath the high collar brocade of her lace gown.

"Will you be all right?" he asked in a low voice. He could not help feel that he had a duty to this woman who was the only person left to fully oppose Ainan. Anariel gave him a tight smile in answer.

"Find my son, Captain. That is all I ask of you."

Haldir glanced up at the sound of the soft clomps of heavy hooves on the hard-packed earth. Ancadal came, weaving his way back from the stables, leading their horses. Haldir's own bay stallion was among them. Rameil's handsome black neighed and strained against her halter, lightly swiping Ancadal's grey, slender-limbed mare.

They didn't know how long they were going to be gone and needed to pack lightly but enough for a longer journey- should it be longer than they expected. He glanced towards Rameil who was tucking a spare cloak into his saddlebag. Ancadal was counting his arrows for the third time that morning; it was clear the younger elf felt the tension as well and longed for a fight out in the open.

Anariel stood upon the porch steps to see them off, her eyes darting around the empty courtyard, ensuring no one watched them from the high windows.

The first faint light of dawn washed the sky and glimmered upon the palace's emerald glass windows. Slowly the sun retreated behind a sea of dark grey clouds as it rose into the sky; Anariel would wait no longer than that. She stood grimly on the marble stairs, glancing around to make absolutely certain that no other eyes watched them but her own. This was to be a clandestine venture for as long as it could possibly be. The horses were saddled and waiting, preparations had been made. They dared wait no longer to depart.

Haldir looked up at her solemnly, hollow-eyed from lack of sleep and slumped slightly in the saddle as though pressed by the weight of many cares. But his eyes swore to her that he would bring her son home. Before Ainan did. They knew that there was no way of telling whom they could trust anymore. Anyone could be an enemy.

They had to be very careful.

"Sir! Haldir, sir!"

Haldir turned at the sound of his name.

Rinniad was running towards him. Haldir faced the young elf as Rinniad skidded to a stop before him. The elf's light hair was disheveled and he had slung his bow haphazardly over one shoulder with his quiver dangling from the other. Haldir looked him up and down in surprise.

"Rinniad, what?"

"You're looking for Legolas aren't you?" he asked. "That's where you're going isn't it? I want to go with you," the young elf asserted blatantly before the other elf could finish his question. At Haldir's disapproving frown, he rattled on.

"Legolas and Lóthmir are my friends," he said obstinately. "I have to look for them. You've done nothing to help them!"

Haldir looked down at the youthful soldier; he understood Rinniad's fury and helplessness but it would not help them find Legolas or Lothmir. With a sideways glance at the Queen, Haldir dismounted and looked solemnly down at him.

"I know you're afraid for your friends- but we are doing something to help them now. We can't have you going missing as well."

Rinniad's face fell but Haldir raised a hand to deny any protestations.

"I have a special charge for you. I want you to protect the Queen, Rinniad," he said sternly. "I convey this charge on you, all right? It is your sworn duty to protect her. If there is trouble, find someone you can trust- but tell no one of your errand or where we have gone, is that clear?"

Still looking slightly mutinous, the young one snapped a sharp salute and nodded dutifully as he walked to take his place at the Queen's side. His eyes were filled with worry and fear for his friends as he looked up at the elf captain.

"Please, find them," he pleaded.

The elf captain nodded gravely as he vaulted into the saddle and urged his horse into a quick trot towards the river, careful not to look back as he went.

Despite the imminent danger, he felt almost glad to be gone from the palace. Gladly would he face the overt dangers of wolf and spider rather than death by unseen knife between his ribs while he slept.

Shaking himself from such gloomy thoughts, he looked up at the cheerless landscape stretched out before him.

On their right, the river rolled steadily onward, its sluggish near-black waters sweeping past the banks at a great rate. Several overhanging boughs trailed their long spindly fingers in it. Through the bare branches, they could just see a gleam of cold sky, pale powdery blue tinged with the blood red of dawn. Away on their right, the forest stretched away, darkness prevailing between the trunks and spiraling in the shadowy hollows. Snow lay like a thick wet carpet over the age-old leaves.

Haldir dismounted and glanced around at the smooth snowy ground. There were minute signs, but very faint and already hours old. He looked up, following the deer trail with his eyes.

Legolas had come this way.

The group traveled onward, ignoring the biting chill of the wind and the snow that whipped up into their faces and crept past their collars down the backs of their necks.

Haldir checked his horse sharply, his eyes narrowed against the stinging wind as he leaned slightly forward, the breeze cutting through his hair as his hood slipped from his head. He motioned for the others to stay back as he maneuvered his horse a little closer to the riverbank.

Something lay stretched and pale at the bottom of the bank. Thickets of brambles and snow laden nettles crawled over the silt-encrusted shore as the elf captain, leaving his horse, searched for a path through the brush to the waterside. The dismal light was grey and dark underneath the tress boughs but he swore he saw a glimmer of gold on the river stones.

Whatever it was, it lay very still in the shallows.

Half-praying that it was Legolas, and the other half praying it wasn't, Haldir disregarded pain and shoved through the brambles, ignoring the long thorns that gouged bloody scratches into his arms and hands. The pale thing lay upon the bank and as he moved closer, he realized that the long golden tendrils floating limply in the river's current were strands of matted hair.

It was an elf.

Haldir knelt beside the body, but was reticent to touch it, half-disgusted and sorely troubled. Summoning his courage, he reached forward and felt for a pulse of life in the ice cold form. There was nothing. Biting his lip until he nearly drew blood, Haldir eased his hands under the stiff corpse and with a muffled oath and prayer, rolled it onto its back. He immediately pulled back with an alarmed start and closed his eyes, nearly gagging.

He had found Telas' body.

The frayed remnant of a rope hung about his bloated neck, a large bruise encircling it indicating that the cord had been weighted with a heavy stone to drag the body to the bottom of the river. So that is what had become of the councilor… His mottled grey flesh had decayed horrendously in the water and Haldir, not looking too closely, caught a glimpse of something dark at the corners of his mouth: blood or something more horrendous. There were certain types of poisons that caused the victim extreme agony until they literally bled to death from the inside out. His end had been cruel indeed.

Haldir stood on shaking legs and hesitated, wondering what he should do. He didn't feel quite right leaving the body here in such a state. Nudging it gently with the toe of his boot, he pushed it back into the river where it bobbed like a grisly cork before submerging a little and sweeping along out of sight with the current.

Chapter Text

The pale dawn filtered coldly down through the stark branches of the trees, illuminating the lank strands of golden hair glinting in its cheerless light. Legolas lay in the fork of a tree's trunk, his arms wrapped around himself. He had long since stopped feeling his fingers and hands. His nose was frozen and his cheeks raw with cold. His stomach had gone hollow for lack of food.

It had been nearly two days since he had run away from the palace and he had lived as he could, finding the few edible roots and small shriveled berries that still clung stubbornly to the bushes at the forest floor. His shelter, such as it was, had been the trees he could climb or a small rock crevice that he could just squeeze himself into.

Stretching frozen limbs, he shook himself, rubbings his arms and chafing his hands to try to restore circulation in them. He climbed stiffly down from the tree and stood again on the pine and snow strewn carpet of the forest floor, looking all about him and listening carefully for any sound of pursuit. The complete and utter silence soothed him a little as it had been his constant companion for two days.

The forest receded in either direction to the end of sight, endless, marching trunks, their limbs flushed rose in the rising sun's light and their roots buried deep in the permafrost. There was no sign of any living thing and the world was cold and dim about him though the sun had began to ride up out of the east. On his right, the forest floor dipped into a small hollow at the bottom of which he could hear a stream trickling.

He drank as much of the icy water as his stomach would hold and, feeling full if not satisfied, he rose, wiping his dripping chin and sighed, his breath rising in a white plume of steam, curling into the dawn morning. His loneliness returning and the oppression of his flight and fear pressed around him in the quiet of early morning. But he was cheered by the sight of the sun after a sleepless, comfortless night spent in the trees, fearing every night sound and creak in the wind.

He knew he would die out here if he did not find proper food and shelter soon. The branches of the trees were no protection against the bitter winter wind that sliced through him like a knife and combed through his disheveled locks.

Thinking to warm up, Legolas began walking briskly, singing softly to himself to lift his spirits and push away the repressive silence smothering him. As the sun rode up the sky, Legolas held up a slender hand to shield his eyes from the dazzling brilliance of the snow reflecting the sun's bright radiance. His voice fell hoarse and he stopped, realizing that he had lost sight of the river. Grumbling at his own stupidity, he searched for a way up the nearest tree so he could see where he was but paused, listening carefully.

He thought he had heard something. The young elf felt eyes on him and the white hairs on the back of his neck rose in apprehension. He whirled round rapidly, searching every direction.

Nothing. Nothing but the dark trees creaking mournfully in the wind.

Still, Legolas felt uneasy.

Feeling exposed and open on the ground, he moved closer to the tree, hissing in pain as a thorn bush threading its poisonous way around the trunk cut his hand. The young elf pulled away, gazing at the blood on his fingertips. He sucked at the cuts on his finger, still straining his ears for any sign of pursuit.

Suddenly, he heard it. The sound of hooves. A soft rhythm beaten into the undergrowth down the path. Fear spiking through him, Legolas leapt nearly straight up into the air with the grace of a cat and caught a branch high above his head with one hand. He swung there for a moment before pulling himself up into the crook of a gnarled old tree. The golden-haired prince crouched fearfully, breathless, trying to keep as still as possible so as not to make any noise. He knew he still hung obtrusively in the open for there were no leafy branches at this time of year to conceal him but he squeezed himself into the smallest space possible, ducking down against the smooth branches of the tree. The hoofbeats grew louder with every passing minute as the young elf's eyes pinned themselves to the pathless woodland back the way he had come.

Out of the mists, a shadowy figure, mounted upon a coal grey steed and robed in deepest blue, edged between the trees, winding its way carefully through the thick ferns and massive trunked trees. Legolas waited in his perch as the horse halted mere paces from his hiding place. The hooded figure looked around and Legolas knew with a chilling certainty that it was looking for him. But who was it? He did not know this elf and no elf friendly to the King would be so hooded for the guards shot those unknown on sight. But this creature moved with stealth and made not the slightest noise. The sheer grace and power in the creature made known its race.

Suddenly, the figure dismounted and its dark cloak swept the ground as it peered this way and that around the trees. Legolas thought he had hidden his tracks fairly well as Kirar had shown him how in case he was ever pursued. But never had he expected to be hunted by one of his own kind- as though he were an animal!

The figure inspected the leaves at the foot of the tree the prince crouched in and Legolas silently groaned as he realized that he had left blood spattered on the leaves from whence he had cut his hand. He caught his breath as the creature gazed straight up at him and the hood fell back to reveal the horribly familiar features of a dark-haired elf with black eyes filled with hatred.

His dreadful shadow had found him.

"Still running, little prince?"

Legolas gasped in dismay and pushed himself further up into the tree, not caring how much noise he made as he slapped the grasping branches aside, retreating higher and higher into the thin boughs of the tree. With sure, confident movements, the other elf climbed up after him.

The golden-haired prince climbed faster as he heard the branches rustle urgently behind him. But the tree's limbs were growing thinner and would no longer hold him. There was no possible escape. But for one…

Summoning all his strength and dexterity, Legolas jumped from the tree, his heart leaping into his throat as he felt only air whistle past him. His groping hands caught suddenly and he clenched with all his might. He was jerked taut and nearly pulled his shoulders out of his sockets on a low bough of the next tree. His injured wrist screamed in agony and he dropped lightly to the ground with a small whimper, spinning frantically around to search for his pursuer.

Nothing.

The dark elf had utterly vanished though Legolas had sworn he had heard him behind him not a moment before.

"Legolas!"

Legolas whirled at the voice, his heart hammering in his chest and both shoulders and wrist throbbing. He nearly sobbed in relief to see Haldir flanked by his two companions, cantering furiously towards him.

Haldir vaulted from the saddle and seized the prince by the upper arms, looking him up and down quickly. Legolas suddenly realized how disheveled he must look with snapped twigs in his hair, dirt and blood smudging his hands. He absently wiped them on his trousers as he backed away from his friend, his gaze darting nervously overhead again.

"Legolas?"

He returned his gaze to Haldir who was looking at him in near-frantic agitation.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

Legolas shook his head, ignoring the protestations of his wrist and shoulders.

"What are you doing out here?" he blurted out, cringing as he realized how rude he sounded. Haldir frowned slightly.

"We've been searching for you for days- your mother is near frantic." The prince looked down at his feet in shame. He had not thought of his mother when he had run away.

Legolas looked around suddenly as the woods moaned in the wind. They warned him: danger was still close at hand. His blue eyes raked the trees, searching once more for his pursuer. But he knew he would not find him.

The dark elf's face lit up with near-joy as he perched in an oak tree not thirty paces away. The proverbial two orcs with one arrow. It was all too perfect! He would slay the Lórien elves in their places and return with the prince in hand. Although he had strict instructions from Ainan not to hurt the boy overmuch, he would have to make a convincing work of an orc attack to make the charade complete.

Tindómëtir drew an arrow to his ear, smiling wickedly.

"I have you now," he whispered, taking his aim, slightly to the left of Haldir's right ear. Suddenly, Haldir's horse neighed restlessly and stepped sideways. The Lórien commander grabbed for his bridle as he felt a slight tug behind his shoulder then a tearing pain and he hissed in surprise.

Ancadal and Rameil immediately reacted, their bows in their hands with an arrow to the string before the deadly shaft had even halted its flight embedded in the leafy undergrowth.

"What was that?" Ancadal asked, his green eyes narrowed at the dark trees.

"Commander, are you all right?" Rameil asked at the same time, having noted the red stain seeping through the other elf's tunic. Haldir reached over his shoulder and gently touched the stinging score the arrow had opened in his back. He retracted his hand, glancing at his blood-smeared fingertips.

"Fine- 'tis just a scratch." He returned his gaze to the path before him and frowned.

"Legolas?" he called out.

But the prince had vanished again.

Legolas had run as soon as he'd heard the whistle of the arrow, thinking it meant for him. Someone had been sent to kill me he thought wildly, his heart thundering in his chest. Even though he was in danger, he could not bring risk to anyone else. He had to get away or Haldir and his friends would die too. His sobs choked with breathlessness, he tripped and sprawled in the snow, picked himself up again and stumbled on. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't care He just knew he had to get as far away as fast as he could.

As Legolas leapt lightly over a fallen trunk across his intended path, his limbs suddenly caught in midair as though he'd been frozen or jerked like a puppet on a string. He struggled to move but it was like trying to fight water. In the dim light, he could not see what held him but he felt it and his heart froze with terror.

He was caught tightly in a spider's web. He craned his head as far back as it would go, trying in vain to free himself but the sticky threads were as strong as wire and held him fast. Its black weaver was thankfully nowhere to be found.

"Well, well, it appears I have you just where I want you, little prince- caught like a fly in a spider's web." A malicious voice laughed out of the darkness.

Legolas wrenched his head to the side so he could see over his shoulder even as he entangled himself further in the web.

"Very thoughtful of that spider to truss you up for me- saves me a lot of trouble from killing you myself," Tindómëtir hissed as he stepped into the younger elf's line of vision. He had no orders to kill the prince but Legolas didn't know that and the dark elf had long become addicted to the smell of fear.

And the young elf stank of it.

Tindómëtir's shadowy hair and black garb created a disconcerting sense of disembodiment giving Legolas the alarming impression that he was staring more at a ghost than a living, breathing creature.

"Spiders like fresh meat. Do you know what it will do to you, little one?" the dark elf smiled, pacing closer. He drew a knife lazily from his belt and absently traced the quivering child's back.

"It'll sting you in the neck or shoulder," he said, running the blade between Legolas' shoulder blades. "Then… if you live, when you awake- in pain and dying of thirst- it will wrap you in its sticky threads until you can no longer move." Tindómëtir's black eyes glittered with an inhuman evil and Legolas flinched as the knifepoint pricked his ear. "So you can watch it whilst it eats you alive."

"Legolas!"

The name echoed through the wood and the prince felt a slight tug of hope- Haldir was still alive and searching for him! Tindómëtir's face darkened into a scowl as he turned in the direction from whence the voice had come. Then he shot a glance upwards and a devious smile crossed his face as he faded into the shadows.

This could not have worked out more perfectly! Tindómëtir thought darkly, watching as Haldir ran towards the young prince and tried to cut Legolas loose from the web. He would not even need to waste his arrows on them. The spider would do his work for him as he watched the bulbous body slide on silent legs from the concealing alcove in the shadows far above their heads. He could circle about and kill the other two on his way back to the palace.

Upon further reflection, perhaps he would just let the spider kill them both. He was granting the child a mercy really- keeping him out of Ainan's cruel hands. The dark elf, too, knew the bitter taste of the vile elf's lash. With that, he disappeared into the foliage.

Legolas heard the small, knowing screech and looked up, biting back a scream of horror.

"Haldir! Up!" he shouted in warning. The elf captain looked up sharply as the spider flung itself upon the helpless body of the prey trapped in its web. Legolas screamed and his thrashing against the spider only served to further entangle him in the web but Haldir reacted fast. He drove his knife up to the hilt in the creature's back and that was enough to give it pause as it shrieked in bitter pain, scuttling around faster than Haldir would have thought possible.

He found himself flat on the ground with the creature on his chest, its pincers dribbling anticipatory saliva onto his leather tunic. Haldir lifted his knife again and plunged it into the hairy body. Once- twice- still the stubborn creature would not release him. Its forelegs pressed him into the earth, digging into his skin through his tunic and the pinchers snapped an inch before his face. He felt sudden pain explode in his neck, rocking his body as it shot up his spine. He suppressed a groan of pain as he sank his blade one last time between the creature's myriad of bulbous eyes.

The spider gave a violent shudder and finally went rigid, toppling stiffly off the elf to lie twitching upon the ground for a long moment before stilling forever, its black blood spattering the leaves where it had fallen.

Haldir lay there for a moment, his chest heaving as he looked up through the entwining branches of the dark trees, searching for any other bodies.

Legolas himself was thankfully unharmed but for a few scratches incurred by his vicious struggle against the creature. He tugged himself free from the shreds of the remaining strands and crouched at the older elf's side. His stomach flip-flopped as he saw the bright red blood against the elf's pale skin.

"Haldir, you're hurt!" he exclaimed. The Lórien commander sat up slowly, touching his neck and wincing at the hot pain that raced through him. Feeling something beneath his fingers, he tugged and grimaced as it came free: an inch long stinger the spider had struck him with. The bite stung but he felt all right. For now.

"It's not bad, Legolas," he said, rising somewhat unsteadily to his feet. He looked down at the bulging lifeless corpse sprawled on the old leaves and shuddered. He had not encountered spiders before- and dearly wished to never do so again.

The young prince bit his lip. He knew better; and had seen warriors older and haler than Haldir succumb to the spiders' foul poison.

"Come on." Haldir motioned for the elf child to follow him as they hastened back to the others they had left on the path.

Meanwhile, Rameil and Ancadal waited impatiently for their commander to return. Haldir had told them to stay here and watch the road. Legolas had fled from something and there might still be enemies in the trees. The darker haired Rivendell elf cast his eyes up and down the road while Ancadal held an arrow to his bowstring still.

The wood was quiet around them as though the trees were holding their breath but it was broad daylight. An uneasy chill ran up Rameil's spine as gauzy and indistinct figures glided out of the shadows with the stealth of wolves. Rameil stiffened and dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword though he relaxed a little when he realized they were elves.

Perhaps they were searching for the missing prince as well.

But something felt definitely wrong here. The elves came no closer but stood waiting. But for what? Rameil was no fool- he knew many in Mirkwood believed Ainan's lies and thought he and his friends traitors to the King. But he had not thought that they would be attacked openly by their fellow elves. Rameil released his grip on his sword to show he meant no harm and opened his mouth to speak when something struck him sharply from behind.

Half-stunned, he fell hard to the ground with the breath knocked from his lungs. He rolled swiftly to his feet, trying to evade an unseen blade in his back as he wrenched his sword from its sheath. His ribs ached from where they had been driven against the hard earth and his vision wavered, black and purple dots momentarily exploding before his eyes. He shook his head, staring around at the whipping trees to gain a bearing on their enemies.

There! Among the boughs, dark shapes moved, closing in a half-circle around the two elves though remaining concealed in the shadows.

Ancadal had seen his companion fall and had drawn his sword, his wide blue eyes darting to the river and back again. His horse danced skittishly under him and he stilled her with a word as he glanced down at Rameil who clambered to his feet, rubbing the growing knot at the back of his skull. The Lórien elves were tense and ready, waiting, unable to offer an attack to invisible opponents.

Something black dropped from the trees above them and landed in a crouch not three yards from where they stood.

Tindómëtir raised his head and his dark curtain of hair billowed around his shoulders beneath the misty shadows. He bared his teeth in a vile grin as he drew a long knife from his belt and pointed it at the two before him.

"You shall pay for what you have done, traitors."

Ramiel swore there was an emphatic leer on that last word.

"What do you speak of?" he demanded angrily, wincing at the ache that pounded relentlessly through his head. "We have committed no crime."

"Kidnapping the prince is a crime," Tindómëtir rejoined coolly as the elves about him drew their blades.

Like wolves they closed in.

The land darkened slowly around them, the trees fading to a mottled dark brown haze as shadow threaded among the limbs. The white snow lay ghostly upon the deep roots. Haldir frowned as he stepped back onto the path that twined like a white dusted ribbon into the dusk.

He had left his friends not far from here, he knew.

Legolas followed him a little farther along the path, winding slowly back towards the elven palace as they gazed cautiously around at the dark trees arching overhead and the shadowed depths that receded to their left and right.

Haldir stopped abruptly, staring at the road ahead of him.

The dirt and snow on the path was plowed up and the horses were gone, their deep prints in the snow vanished into the darkness. So had his friends.

"Ancadal? Rameil?" Haldir called out, looking around at the trees and wondering if the spiders had caught them too. He paused and knelt to look more closely at the earth, there were dark splotches spattered on the dried grass beneath a tree and more on the path, mixed in with the ploughed up earth and snow.

In the fading dusk, they looked an awful lot like blood.

A shiver of fear raced up Haldir's spine.

"Something happened here," he said quietly, rising to his feet again, his brow furrowed with worry as his stomach twisted into knots.

"Perhaps they went on without us," he suggested, turning to Legolas who was looking at him concernedly. "We should… get back to the palace," Haldir said distractedly, raking a hand through his disheveled hair.

"They might be waiting for us."

He hoped.

The day had passed beyond their reckoning though it was always dark beneath the trees. They had been walking for hours into the evening and even Legolas was beginning to feel footsore and weary. He paused at the top of a low rise where he could just see the winter sun slowly fading beneath the trees.

The Eastern sky grew steadily dark. But all the western sky looked as though it were on fire- a blazing myriad of light greens, crimson and fiery orange as the winter sun retreated into the reaching arms of the trees that stretched to embrace it. Pink smoke reached out to mingle with the encroaching blue. He watched as the last vestige of day slowly faded from the sky and glanced eastwards where the deepest of blues shone with the first pinpricks of white stars.

Haldir leant against a gnarled old tree trunk as he followed his young friend's gaze towards the setting sun. His face was haggard and pale with pain.

The poison was spreading rapidly and though Haldir's strong, elven body tried to fight it, he was losing. Sweat dampened his brow and he felt distinctly sick as he wavered on his feet, his steps increasingly unsteady.

"I-I don't think we'll make it back to the palace tonight," Haldir said softly, blinking as though to clear his vision. Legolas looked up at him, his dark blue eyes concerned as he glanced up through the interlacing branches. He nodded slowly, shivering in the cold breeze.

"Come on. Let's get out of this wind."

Anariel sat on the edge of her bed, a lonely candle flickering on her bedside table, dripping wax all over the varnished wood but she didn't care. The young sentry, Rinniad, she had sent to his rest long ago for the hour was late.

Absently, she combed her long shimmering tresses, not really feeling the tug of the brush but rather the turmoil of her thoughts. She did not dare look at the empty side of the bed which her husband usually occupied for fear of bursting into tears again and be unable to stop.

Instead, her gaze lingered on the portrait her brother had bequeathed to her, the rainy sky in the picture mirroring her gloomy thoughts. They had been younger then… happier. Her blue eyes swept over her brother's face. This was drawn before her father went off to war and was slain in battle… before their troubles began… before said father bullied and badgered his son into a ruinous life of failed hopes.

She could still remember- even a thousand years later- the night when she had started from a dream to find her brother kneeling beside her bed, silver tears pouring silently down his face. He would not say what had happened but she remembered leaping out of bed and enfolding him in her arms, rocking him back and forth as he sobbed into her shoulder. In that moment, she felt like the older sibling, the big sister, wanting to protect her brother from anything that threatened him.

Little did she know then that the thing that threatened him was their own father.

Anariel did what she could. But she was her father's favorite. Araion was not an overtly cruel parent and ruler though not trusting by nature. He did not trust the King of Northern Mirkwood whom he considered a rival and gave aid to Oropher only because the vote of his entire council was against him.

But before he left for the War, he saw enemies' shadows in every corner, every crevice, every thicket. He had accused and even executed some of his own kin in fear and pride. The spiders grew numerous in the dark hollows of the south, and wolves howled on their very borders. It was all Araion could do to defend his people for they were few and he was often frustrated with his family, especially Ainan who seemed to constantly rebel against his father's wishes.

It grew worse as his children grew older. He shouted. He shouted all the time- never at her, she was his dearest and youngest but her brother received the brunt of what came to be his ill-treatment. Anariel was oblivious to most of this, a certain young prince who was visiting their family's palace had caught her eye and she, his. Her brother fell into the back of her mind.

Thranduil, for Thranduil it had been who had caught her eye, took her as his wife and led her back to Northern Mirkwood to live as their princess. They had been happy. Then the great War had come, the greatest battle that would come to be called the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Oropher set forth with over four hundred of their strongest swordsmen and finest archers.

Few returned.

The King did not. And neither did her father.

With Thranduil now King and she, Queen, they helped to heal Mirkwood and bring renewed life to a battered and broken kingdom. The birth of her son had been one of the most profoundly joyous moments of her life and lifted the spirits of many who saw their beautiful prince and heard his merry laughter. He was a jewel unto his people.

Her family did not see it that way.

They had come one night, her brother and mother, unexpectedly, glanced over the bright-eyed elf-child in his mother's arms, pronounced him healthy with disdainful glances and left. She was puzzled and hurt by her family's actions, not understanding until later the real reason for their discontent. Ainan had approached her before they departed, then being but a young male of three thousand years or so.

"So this is how you would repay us?" he snapped in such a cold tone that she started. Tiny Legolas, no more than a babe, nuzzled against his mother's neck as she shifted him in her arms.

"What mean you?" Anariel asked, flustered.

"You have betrayed us," he snarled coldly. His silver-blue eyes narrowing at the small child smiling in his mother's arms. "Bedding this upstart of a king- the one who as good as murdered our father!" His voice rose and she shrank back as Legolas began to whimper at the harsh tones. "How could you?" His silver-blue eyes were anguished.

"Why did you leave me?"

Her sister's heart broke to see him standing there, looking so lost and alone. But she stood by her husband. Well did she know her family's ambitions to rule the entire forest and she would not be apart of them. Thranduil had claimed that title in order to unite the broken elven peoples, to make them stronger. Somehow, Ainan resented that and, for the first time that Anariel could remember, he looked on her with hatred.

"I will never forget this," he vowed.

Those angry words had cut her to the core, and even now they still rang in her ears. Ainan had kept his promise. Anariel laid down her brush and smoothed a stray strand over one delicately pointed ear. Part of her still loved him, cared for him as her own blood, pitied him as she always had- even now after all he had done.

He had stormed out that night and she would not see him again for over four hundred years. She found out later that her mother had passed on to Mandos' Halls. No word was sent from home; she discovered the news only when a messenger of King Thranduil had returned from a journey to the Southern Forest and told her the palace was empty. There was no sign of anyone. Some of the villagers he had spoken to had said the royal family had fallen apart after she had left. The king was dead. The mother shortly after… There had no word of her brother.

Unconsciously, she reached up and wiped away the tears lingering on her long eyelashes. She had cried every day since her husband had been missing. And now her son. She had cried every hour. Her family was falling apart.

Again.

The Queen of the Elves turned her face to the side of her husband's cool pillow and wept.

The door to her chambers opened and she started up sharply, quickly wiping away the tear trails on her face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked guardedly of Ainan as he leaned indolently against the doorframe. She gazed up nervously at the shadowed doorway. Her brother had not spoken to her since yesterday morning and he had remained silent all day and far into the evening. She did not really expect him to answer her question and was surprised when he spoke.

"I would speak with you," he said softly. "If I may?" he waited for her nod of acquiescence before seating himself beside her on the bed. He looked at her quite seriously, but there was nothing on his face. He wore a mask of ice that not even she could penetrate. Thus, his next words surprised her.

"I would rather you by my side, sister, than against me."

Anariel looked downright astounded at his boldness. To think, he would try to win her over now! She repressed the urge to shudder when he took her hand in his cold fingers. Unable to resist any longer, she pulled away and stood abruptly. He gave a false-sounding, melancholy sigh.

"I know you are angry with me," he said, trying a placating tone but she merely glared at him as he shook his head bewilderingly at her.

"Why are you so cross with me, muinthel?"

Anariel's eyes flashed.

"You hurt my child, Ainan, you vile orc-spawn," she hissed in a fierce whisper. Ainan merely smiled and shook a finger at her reprovingly.

"Now, now, such foul names should not come from the lips of one so beautiful." He leaned back against the mounted pillows, his expression thoughtful and troubled as she saw it.

"On whose word do you have this accusation? The elves of Lothlórien?" his lip curled in a thin sneer of disgust. "Surely, sister, you would believe your own blood before those traitors? They are the ones responsible for your husband's disappearance."

Anariel caught her breath. She didn't know who to believe now. Her brother had that power over her; he could twist his words to make them believable and she wondered now, of her conversation with the Lórien commander. What did he truly know of my son? What proof was there that Legolas had indeed been hurt at all? He had never told her anything, nor was there any reason to suspect her brother of any harm. Her heart began to sink under the load of questions and curses and overwhelming emotion that she could not bear to examine at the moment.

Ainan stood slowly, his eyes still fixed on hers. Unconsciously, Anariel felt herself taking a step back from him. But he caught her by the wrist, much more gently, however, than he had yet.

"Do not fear, sister. They will be brought to justice when the young prince is found."

Anariel could not hold herself up any longer and her legs buckled.

Ainan leaned smoothly forward and caught her, supporting her gently as he carried her to the bed. She rested against his shoulder, too weak to move away as he stroked her hair tenderly. Through the numbness of her thoughts, her mind screamed in silent bitter irony at this picture.

Her only solace. The source of her anguish.

"You are the light, sweet sister. And I-" Ainan murmured, almost ruefully then merely shrugged with a glint of his eyes, molten silver in the fading candlelight as she looked up at him.

"I am your dark reflection."

She pulled away, her heart burning again within her.

His eyes gleamed at her, challenging her, daring her to stand up to him, to strike him again. But she did nothing, her eyes cast down as she tugged absently at the loose cuff of the scarf that covered the bruises on her throat. Suddenly, he laughed and she looked up sharply, startled by the sound.

"What a pair we make! King and Queen, light and dark." His expression turned deadly serious once more and his eyes seemed as cold as the blue ice on the lip of the ocean.

"The power of your life is in my hands. You know that."

There it was again. He would cajole her, flatter her, pretend to be the wiser, older brother who she could trust, look up to. And then he would become the viper waiting for her to get just close enough for him to snap her up in his coils.

"What do you want, Ainan?" she asked wearily, closing her eyes and wishing futilely for sleep.

"Well then, I shall be blunt," he said with a small smile.

"Valar be praised," she whispered.

"You will not hinder me again."

The Queen opened her eyes and looked tiredly up into his face.

"How have I hindered you, brother?"

His smile turned dangerous and cold as he leaned closer to her on the pretext of brushing a lock of hair that had fallen loose about her face back over her shoulder.

"I know you," he said softly. "You are quite shrewd, Anariel. Thinking you could remain unseen… in broad dawn's light?" he smirked as horror edged fleetingly across her face. "Yes," he said calmly. He rose slowly.

"As I told you before, my dear Queen, your son will be found."

Anariel felt a chill clutch her heart such as she had never felt before. So distraught was she that she did not hear the door open once again. Ainan's eyes flickered towards the doorway and a bright smile spread across his face as he bid welcome to the intruder.

"Your Majesty," Eraeriel dipped into a low curtsy, her eyes on Ainan only. He took her hand and pressed it briefly to his lips. When the raven-haired woman raised her head, she looked straight into Anariel's eyes, a sly, secretive smile on her rose petal lips.

And the Queen stared right back into the glowing eyes of the woman destined to take her place.

Chapter Text

Night was falling. The fading sunlight blanched the color from the sky in a glowing stream of brightest crimson and gold. In the darkening eastern sky, white pinpricks of stars began to flicker into light. But beneath the shadowy limbs of Mirkwood, there was nothing but darkness. The crescent moon was shrouded in cloud and only the frosty stars shone on the two figures moving slowly below.

On the last of his rapidly draining energy, Haldir staggered, nearly falling, and Legolas lunged forward quickly to catch his arm.

"Haldir!"

The older elf's face was ashen, his breathing labored and painful. Without warning, he heaved dryly, turning away from Legolas. He fell to his knees, shuddering at the onslaught of sudden pain that burned through him. The ache in his head had been growing over the last few hours and was now throbbing so badly it made his eyes smart and his stomach roil. He laid his head over his knees, gasping for breath and struggling to restrain the burning sensation he felt tickling the back of his throat. The poison in his blood was overwhelming his senses too fast.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and slowly looked up at Legolas who had dropped to his knees beside his friend. Haldir looked away again as he felt the growing throbbing pain arch through his head and spread slowly down his body, making his limbs feel sluggish and slow. Yellow patches blurred his vision. Dimly, he could feel a soft, cool hand on his brow and gentle words in his ears but none of it made sense.

Darkness spun around him and the night closed in.

Haldir snapped almost immediately back into the waking world, starting alarmingly. Legolas pulled back, relieved but afraid for his friend's eyes were still disconcertingly clouded. He touched the elder elf's shoulder, reassured when he looked at him.

"Haldir, you must stay awake. The poison… it slips into your bloodstream quicker when you are unguarded and can stop your heart." He had heard a healer say that once and the knowledge sent a shiver of fear through him. "You have to try to stay awake."

Legolas frowned deeply, his compassionate gaze concerned as he swept back Haldir's long hair. There was a hematoma the size of a button underneath his skin and the wound looked inflamed. He laid a cool hand on the older elf's brow, feeling a cold sweat underneath his fingertips. Haldir shrugged the hand and the warning aside, struggling not to worry the obviously anxious prince though he didn't think he could keep moving for much longer.

"I'll be fine," he reassured him with a shaky smile. "We'll be back at the palace by tomorrow." His brow creased and he brought his hands to his temples, rubbing at them agitatedly, wishing he could rub the headache away. The prince bit his lip and glanced around at the dark forest, his face tense and searching. Haldir followed his gaze.

"We cannot stay here," he said quietly. But, he wasn't sure if he could even mange to get to his feet. The poison had spread through his system faster than he had thought possible and he felt terribly sick- every joint in his body ached.

"We can stay near the river- by the falls," Legolas suggested. Haldir mulled it over for a moment and decided he would rather spend a night in a cave than in a spider's belly.

Using a nearby tree trunk for support, he pulled himself to his feet with a repressed groan, refusing Legolas' offer of help. The Lórien elf faltered slightly before regaining his balance and the little prince looked sharply at him.

"Haldir, are you all right?" The older elf nodded.

"I'm fine- just a little dizzy."

"Well, the waterfall's close by. Just hang on a little longer- we're nearly there," he said over his shoulder, already a few paces ahead.

Despite the young prince's reassurances, the walk seemed to last forever. Haldir forced himself to take one step and then another though the pain grew worse with every jolt and he stumbled no few times on the uneven floor as roots pushed up under their feet and nigh invisible rocks lay hidden on the path.

At last, Legolas heard the rush of water which grew steadily closer and soon the glint of starlight could be seen on the dark river rippling by underneath the creaking willow trees. Legolas glanced over his shoulder, his golden hair framed by the pale, cloud-washed moonlight that wafted across his face as they approached the makeshift stepping stone bridge.

"Spiders don't like water and it is drier inside."

Haldir nodded his agreement, struggling to keep his footing on the slick stones. His balance was failing him and he nearly fell several times before he ducked beneath the waterfall's overhang. The water was chill but the spray felt cool upon his sweat-streaked brow.

He felt a steadying hand grasp his arm and looked up into Legolas' anxious eyes. He smiled slightly to reassure him as the prince led him forward into the small alcove beside the beautiful pool that glittered with tiny lights cast by the blue stone at its far edge.

"Sit down," Legolas nearly commanded and Haldir gratefully complied, feeling exhausted and aching in every bone of his body. He laid his head back against the cool of the stone wall, already feeling his thoughts beginning to drift into welcoming oblivion.

Legolas immediately knelt next to him and shook him hard.

"You can't go to sleep!"

Haldir sighed softly, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Then, Legolas, speak to me. Tell me anything- everything. What are your memories? Your joys?" Haldir began, trying to force his mind away from the pain wracking his injured frame. He was determined to fight this numbing venom. He would not leave Legolas alone in this horrible darkness. The prince paused for a brief moment, wondering what he could say.

"What of your home?" he asked at last, thinking it would be easier to keep the other elf awake if he kept him talking. "What is it like in Lothlórien?" Haldir smiled wistfully, his eyes unfocusing slightly.

"It is beautiful. The trees… are silver in the spring through the winter… with golden blossoms. The Celebrant is usually cold at this time of year but Nimrodel sings so sweetly… and the golden flowers float in its foam," he seemed to drift half in a dream as he spoke so wistfully of his homeland. Legolas leaned forward slightly to hear him better.

"The mellyrn are not so darksome as here," Haldir said quietly, his voice a hoarse half-whisper. "And our Lady is fairer than the very sun."

Legolas glanced uneasily at him, something he had long been wondering niggling to the forefront of his mind.

"Is-is she kind?"

"She is no Kinslayer, Legolas," Haldir answered, seeing the unasked question in the younger elf's eyes. "And, yes, she is very kind."

"How is your wrist?" he asked suddenly, struggling to sit up a little straighter so he could look at his young friend's face.

"It's all right," Legolas said- though the limb in question hurt abominably. He didn't see the point of worrying Haldir further when he seemed in so much pain already.

"What are we going to do, Haldir?" Legolas asked thickly, his voice sorrowful as he sought an escape from the subject of himself. "I- I can't go back." He shook his head vehemently as his friend looked at him. "He'll kill me."

The older elf didn't have to ask who he was and Haldir silently agreed with the prince but he also knew that running away wasn't the answer; they wouldn't be able to run for long anyway before the patrols Ainan would ultimately send out to retrieve them found them.

If only his head would stop hurting then he might be able to think clearly!

"We will have to find my friends as soon as possible," Haldir said with a twinge of renewed unease at the disappearance of his comrades. Something had happened to them, he knew and his stomach twisted with guilt and anger as well as nausea as he realized he had left them.

"Where do you think they are?" the prince asked hesitatingly, a chill clutching at his stomach as he remembered Tindómëtir's vengeful face. Haldir shook his head.

"I-I don't know."

Legolas looked away from his friend, his own heart sinking in his breast. He glanced out towards the mouth of the cave, watching the falling water that curtained the entrance, pretending he was whirling away into the river being carried far away from all of his worries and his anxieties and his cares...

Then his stomach gurgled and his problems and worries returned with an unpleasant jolt.

"I am a fool," Legolas said, bitterly, his voice little more than a whisper. He could not help but feel that this was all his fault. "I believed him- and all of his lies…. I was so afraid." The young prince looked away and self-disgust laced his tone.

"I am what he said. I am a coward."

Haldir leaned forward slightly, wincing a little and Legolas looked up as the older elf eyed him sternly.

"There is no one less deserving of that name than you, Legolas," he said emphatically. "You knew. You were smart and obeyed your instincts by running away. You knew he would kill you if you stayed. You had no choice."

Legolas faced his back to his friend and silently folded his head in his arms. Guilt and anguish and so many other emotions that he'd kept trapped inside for so long were tearing at him, struggling to escape and it took all of his will power simply to keep them at bay. He shook his head, one phrase reverberating in his mind.

'By running away…'

"I left my mother behind, Haldir. I didn't even think of her when I ran-" Legolas blurted out, his voice thick with restrained tears.

"You had no choice, Legolas," Haldir repeated. "Your mother will be fine. I saw her before I left and made sure she was guarded." That wasn't the whole truth, rather a half-lie but Haldir knew Legolas needed to be reassured.

"You did?" the prince asked, raising his head a little. Haldir leaned forward and placed a hand on the younger elf's shoulder.

"You are still a prince of Mirkwood, son of Anariel and Thranduil, the rightful ruler of this forest. The dignity and nobility and bravery in that bloodline flows through your veins. And no one can take that from you. Ever."

Legolas had not been told something positive in such a long time, he could have cried. But he swallowed back his emotion as Haldir released him and sank back against the stone, his sudden energy spent.

Silence fell between them for a long moment.

Legolas remained still with his head bent over his knees, lost in his own thoughts. Haldir lay quiet, his eyes staring idly upward at the roof of the cavern where plays of dark color danced across the rock. Sweat beaded upon his upper lip and brow.

"Legolas… if anything happens to me…" he began.

The prince looked up and he could not contain his fear.

"Haldir, nothing's going to happen to you. I'm going to take care of you," Legolas said, struggling to keep his voice from breaking as he took his friend's hand.

"You're going to be all right."

Haldir squeezed the young one's hand to quiet him.

"Legolas, lasto nin, (listen to me,)" he said, his voice strong as he could make it. "If anything happens to me, I want you to get back to the palace as quickly as you can- do not linger here. Find your mother; get out of Mirkwood." He stopped as his breath caught short in his chest. Legolas stared at him in disbelief for a moment and slowly shook his head.

"I-I can't, Haldir, please. You're going to be all right."

The elf captain sighed.

"Do as I say, Legolas. Please," Haldir bade softly. The prince looked away and nodded with his eyes cast down. He needed to be strong now, for Haldir and for himself.

"All right."

Another silence fell; this one more prolonged as each turned towards his own thoughts.

"Your father's guard may find us." Haldir murmured half-hopefully after a while, his voice a low rasp, scarcely audible over the sound of the falling water that shielded the entrance of their hiding place.

"They were locked up in the cells," Legolas whispered into the silence.

"What?" Haldir opened his eyes.

"I promised them I'd free them. Tirien was there… I don't know how they got there," Legolas answered quietly.

Haldir sighed with a sinking feeling in his chest. Briefly he wondered how Legolas managed to find himself in the dungeons then that thought abruptly vanished as a fresh stab of pain pierced his stomach and he grunted in surprise and discomfort.

The prince looked at him, slightly startled then alarmed.

Haldir had lost even more color and his eyes were terribly glassy, losing focus. His chest rose and fell unevenly. Legolas bit his lip worriedly as he crawled over to the older elf and touched his brow with concern. Haldir was scarcely conscious though his eyes were open, awake, alert- to a certain extent.

"Water, please Legolas," he pleaded though his throat felt almost too swollen to swallow. Legolas nodded hastily and tore a strip from his cloak with the elf's knife. He let the water of the small pool absorb into the cloth and knelt beside his friend, allowing a little trickle spill into his mouth and down his chin before dampening his brow with the cool water. Then he slowly pulled back the collar of the other's tunic to get a better look at the wound.

He winced. The skin around it was blackened and ugly-looking, the wound itself red and enflamed. Legolas swallowed hard as he gently washed the wound, trying not to hear Haldir's suppressed gasp of pain.

He only half-knew what he was doing, trying to scrounge from his memory the bits and pieces his herbal teacher had taught him about treating wounds and which plants to use and such lessons that he had only half-listened to. Now he wished he had paid closer attention. With nothing at his disposal, the most he could think to do was keep the wound clean and free of infection. He hoped that the healing powers of the pool that his mother had wistfully told him of proved true.

Legolas smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner as he looked into his friend's half-glazed eyes. Those silver eyes had become fogged with the numbing pain and the long fingers grasped in the younger elf's hand felt icy and clammy.

Legolas looked hastily away as he felt an onslaught of tears squeeze his throat. He felt horrible about all of this; everything was his fault. And now Haldir might die because of his foolishness.

At that moment, his stomach grumbled loudly again and the prince flushed with embarrassment, rubbing the sore spot in his stomach. He had forgotten his hunger in his flight from his enemies and his concern for his friend.

Moving stiffly, Haldir fumbled in his cloak pocket for the leaf-wrapping of waybread he had brought with him. Though not unlike the lembas of Lórien, they were more like cram. But Legolas didn't care and nearly snatched them out of his hand, hesitating for an instant.

"You should eat something too," the prince urged, looking up from his own repast. Haldir shook his head with a grimace at the mention of food.

"I don't think I could keep anything down."

Legolas glanced down at the bread in his hands and immediately broke it in twain, pushing the larger half into his friend's lax hand.

"Try," he pleaded.

Haldir looked up at Legolas reprovingly and exchanged the bread in his hands for the smaller half.

"You look as though you haven't eaten in days," he remarked as he nibbled halfheartedly at the bread. It wasn't exactly a rebuke but it was close to it and Legolas felt slight shame flush his cheeks as he ate.

Feeling a little better in body if not mind, the prince glanced up at their small hiding place. It had begun to snow and little white flakes whirled through an opening in the ceiling melting before they hit the floor. It was an oddly tranquil place after all of the horror they had been through.

Legolas shivered as he folded his knees up to his chest again, the cold biting mercilessly through his tunic. Haldir gave him a slight, pained smile.

Slowly he sat up and drew an arm around the younger elf's shoulders. Legolas leaned back against his friend's warm shoulder, feeling comforted and grateful that Haldir was here. He knew he would never have been able to survive alone. He would have lost all hope if his friend hadn't been with him.

"You'll be all right? Won't you?" the prince asked quietly, twisting around to look up at the older elf, his eyes begging for assurance. Haldir smiled in return, unable and unwilling to hurt the young prince anymore. He squeezed the young elf's hand with astonishing feebleness in so usually strong a limb.

"It's all right, Legolas," he breathed. "I won't leave you."

It was a long night vigil to come for the elf prince. His stomach ached with hunger again, reminding him that he had only eaten a small crust of bread in two days. A long drink from the pool only made it sharper.

At every small night noise, he leapt to his feet, staring wildly towards the cave entrance. But there was never anything save the soft rush of falling water and the snow scraping against the rocks.

He did not sleep- dared not sleep; afraid that if he succumbed to fatigue, his friend would be the one to fall into eternal rest. Or if he slept to suddenly awake and find his enemies staring into the darkness of the cave with their eyes gleaming and blades bared. These terrible thoughts whirled through his mind and set his nerves on edge. He prayed that their pursuers had been fooled by their escape into the river and would not discover them but his fear and constant apprehension kept him awake long into the night.

Morning dawned bright and clear with the clouds drifting westwards and a crisp wind blowing from the east. Legolas awoke to the feel of the sun shining on his eyes. He blinked and sat up slowly, wincing at the stiffness in his back against the stone. Exhaustion had finally overtaken him sometime near dawn and he had slept the early morning away. Suddenly noticing the absence of comforting warmth at his back, he turned quickly.

He glanced back at his friend, sucking his breath in worriedly when he realized Haldir lay relaxed and unmoving beside him, his eyes wide, staring at nothing. Legolas edged forward, almost shaking with fear as he laid a chilled hand on his friend's brow. He sagged in relief as he felt warm skin under his fingertips and the stir of soft breath on his cheek.

Haldir had survived the night.

Leaning forward a little more, he gently pulled down the collar of Haldir's tunic, inspecting the wound while trying not to wake his resting friend. The swelling had gone down and the wound was no longer black or bleeding. Sighing quietly in relief, he rose slowly to his feet, stretching the kinks from his back and suppressing a yawn.

The waterfall sang tranquilly in the light of day as Legolas edged out from underneath its rainbow curtain. He would let Haldir sleep. For now, Legolas sought the warmth of the sun.

For the first time in a long time, Legolas nearly smiled at the peacefulness of the falls as he climbed up the steep rock slope to sit at the waterfall's edge. It was so beautiful with the softly falling water and the rainbows arcing through the spray as the black leaves floated in its foam. The breeze was stiff but the morning sun dappling through the branches was warm and soft upon his back.

The other elf was almost upon him before Legolas heard anything. He spun around as a shadow loomed above him and his eyes widened in panic as iron fingers dug into his shoulders.

Legolas lashed out fearfully and Tindómëtir recoiled with a yelp, a hand leaping to his face. Blood gushed between his fingers but he wiped it on his shoulder, his hands outstretched towards the prince who scuttled up onto his feet as quickly as he could. But there was nowhere to run. The steep rocky slope he had just climbed fell sharply along the edges of the water at his back.

The prince's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he chanced a glance down at the thundering, foaming water directly below.

Tindómëtir stepped forward slowly, his hands outspread, a red rivulet running from a bloodied nose.

"Easy, princeling. I will not harm you… Easy, now," he placated quietly, his dark eyes fixed upon the terrified child's. He could smell the fear in the air. Legolas' eyes filled with sorrow and horror as he closed his eyes and turned to face the churning water. Its roar echoed in his ears, drowning out any other words, any other thoughts as he cast himself over.

Tindómëtir lunged forward and the prince felt something tangle briefly in his hair- but too late. A flash of pain ripped through his scalp as he plunged down, down into the icy torrent below.

"Please, hir-nin (my lord). Mercy, I beg you. My brothers have been missing for days," a young elven soldier, loyal to Thranduil, entreated.

Ainan chuckled wickedly to himself as he settled his slender frame into the throne of the King. His throne. Things were panning out better than he had planned.

The former king languished in his own dungeon. His chief councilor and advocate was dead; the Queen and military forces he had long held under his command. Oh, there had been a few insurgents surely who had dared stand against him. He had quickly quashed them and sent them to join their king in the damp cells. The populace lived to serve him and little else. If they did not do as they were told, they died.

The strongest survived in this land. And he was the strongest.

His silver-blue eyes narrowed as he looked down at the elf before him. His eyes lifted abruptly towards the door as a black figure sidled into the room and eased the door silently shut behind him.

Ainan gave a small nod to the guards flanking the door who stepped forward and immediately took the unfortunate elf's arms who stood before him, pleading for the life of the family he would soon join.

"Well? What news?" Ainan demanded sharply of the dark elf who came forward at the summons once the guards and their captive had quit the room. Tindómëtir wordlessly held up a long, golden thing.

Ainan frowned as he slid the silken material in his fingers; it was a lock of hair as golden as wheat and familiar. He shot a glance up at the other elf through narrowed eyes.

Tindómëtir's head wrenched painfully to one side as Ainan struck him across the face with enough force to set his ears ringing.

"Idiot! I wanted the child alive!" Ainan hissed angrily. He sighed deeply and rubbed his left temple where he could feel a headache growing. Dried blood clung to the other elf's upper lip from a bloodied nose and Ainan nodded to it callously.

"My nephew can get the best of even you, Tindómëtir?"

The dark elf merely blinked in reply. Ainan's scowl deepened.

"What of the others- the elves of Lórien."

Now, a soft sigh of either longing or self-loathing escaped the other's lips.

"They live still, hir-nin (my lord). We have captured two of them; their leader was not among them."

Ainan closed his eyes slowly, his patience with his subordinate rapidly waning. He paced closer to the smaller elf. Tindómëtir was unmoved, his dark eyes staring straight ahead as his lord stood before him. Ainan stared down at the younger elf and abruptly tore back the other's black tunic, exposing the deep burn scar- stark against the pale skin on his chest.

He examined it for a long moment, a perverse, satisfied smile briefly lighting his lips as he traced it with a cold finger.

"Go!" Ainan commanded sharply, releasing him as he waved towards the door in curt dismissal.

"You know the price of failure." Bowing, Tindómëtir spun around and abruptly disappeared out the door.

"Legolas!" Haldir gazed around at the press of trees around him. His vision blurred briefly and he blinked his eyes furiously as he leaned against a tree for support. His back and shoulders hurt from sleeping on the hard stone but he was thankfully alive. Thinking to regain his strength and steady his legs a bit, he had gone in search of the young prince who had once again vanished.

Haldir pushed himself determinedly from the tree and stumbled towards the sound of the river, thinking to quench his thirst and clear his head. He wondered where Legolas had gone. It wasn't safe for him to be out here by himself.

He knelt beside the swiftly flowing stream and dipped his hands in the icy water, splashing it vigorously over his face. His eyes rested on a drifting bit of flotsam on the swiftly moving current and he frowned as the thing bobbed. His heart arrested as he realized with a sickening jolt that that jetsam had golden tendrils snaking out of it.

Without further thought, he plunged into the river and allowed the current to carry him as the thing swept downstream past him. He stretched out a hand desperately and swam forward with long strokes, fighting the growing pain in his neck and sore muscles. A wave of weariness passed over him and he unintentionally sank in the water, feeling his thoughts drift, his purpose slip.

Sleep, the water beckoned, willing him to let it carry him away on soft ripples under a dark canopy… Haldir fought the drowsiness and shook himself abruptly as thoughts of Legolas flashed through his mind. He forced aside the lethargy and seized the floating body under the arm, lifting the pale face above the water. He groaned softly as he saw Legolas' head flop limply back against his shoulder.

Haldir fought the current viciously, holding the limp body close to him even as it nearly dragged him under. He staggered up onto the shore, dragging the body of his young friend with him and collapsing beside it. His chest heaved as he sucked in lungfuls of precious air; the arrow wound in his back had reopened and stung painfully. But he ignored it as he rolled onto his side and bent anxiously over the prince, laying an ear to his chest and over his mouth.

He wasn't breathing.

"No, Legolas," the elf called brokenly, shaking him. "You will not give up on me now." Haldir compressed his chest and took a deep breath, forcing it into the younger elf's lungs. Long minutes passed as the elf continued to try to breathe life into the young prince and pressed upon his chest. Sweat slid down older elf's back as he took a last deep breath, tears filling his eyes as Legolas did not move.

Haldir felt his heart leap painfully as Legolas suddenly surged up and retched violently, ejecting river water from his lungs. He moaned softly and rolled onto his side, coughing. The older elf clapped him on the back, a tear rolling down his cheek which he hastily swiped away. Legolas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then abruptly spun around, his eyes wide with terror. When his tired, waterlogged mind registered who knelt in front of him, he sagged in relief.

"Haldir," he breathed.

Legolas flung his arms around Haldir's neck, the young elf's body shaken with sobs as he tried to explain what had happened. Haldir only caught bits and pieces of what he was saying, muffled as the prince's voice was against his shoulder. But he did catch one sentence that sent a sickening jolt through his stomach.

"He found me."

Haldir felt his skin chill as he stroked the bedraggled hair soothingly, whispering reassurances as he glanced up at the shaded sun. The dark firs hissed overhead sounding almost threatening as the chill wind laughed in their rigid branches.

The prince was soaking wet and it would be better if he could get him into dry clothes. Several small cuts marred his fair face where sharp river stones had cut him but otherwise, he appeared all right. Haldir didn't ask how he had fallen into the river.

After Legolas had had a chance to recover a little, Haldir rose to his feet, wringing the water from his hair and tunic. They were both soaked to the bone and the winter wind howled through the branches, chilling them straight through.

Legolas was nearly done in. He was exhausted and could barely stand on his own. Haldir saw this and quickly bent down and helped the prince to his feet. Legolas wrapped his arms around the older elf's neck as Haldir hooked his own arms around the backs of the prince's legs so he could carry him easier.

"Don't worry, Legolas. You'll be home soon," Haldir whispered quietly, trying not to flinch as the younger elf's weight pressed against the wound in his back. The prince weighed little but any pressure still hurt. Somehow, Haldir managed to climb to his feet with the prince draped over his back

The dark river had carried them far downstream and Haldir followed it, knowing they would eventually return under the very bridge of the palace. Legolas drifted into a fitful sleep with his head lolling against the hollow of the older elf's neck, salty tear trails drying on his face.

I have to get him home Haldir thought desperately.

The afternoon sunlight slanted down onto their golden heads and Haldir marveled that it could shine on such black events. He wandered deep in thought, caring not for the aching pain in his arms and legs nor the exhaustion that called to him to lay down his burden and sleep forever under the dark trees. He had to get Legolas home safe, he reminded himself. Then, and only then, would he allow himself respite.

He realized suddenly that he had nearly dozed off on his feet and lifted his head, noticing that the sun had sunk considerably lower than he remembered. They were still following the river but had meandered slightly off course. The palace was near- if he hurried they could make it before full night fell.

There was no sound of birds or other beasts- not even a breath of wind stirring the old, battered leaves of the trees. Haldir frowned slightly, casting a glance around him.

Quite suddenly, he found himself surrounded. Tindómëtir stepped forward, two others flanking him before Haldir had even seen them.

"Give the prince to us, Lórien elf," he commanded sternly, his dark eyes flashing as his hair shone like ebony in the faint sunlight. Legolas woke as he felt Haldir's shoulders tense and the older elf lowered him to his feet, seizing his shoulder firmly as he searched for a weapon or way of escape. He groped for his saber but one of the elves drew an arrow to his bow faster than sight, the tip trained point blank on the Lórien elf's heart.

"That would not be wise," Tindómëtir said with a smirk. "There is no escape," he affirmed, guessing the other's thoughts. His frightful eyes flickered towards Legolas who met his gaze though Haldir could feel the tremble in his shoulders.

"I see you survived your fall, little one. The Valar must not favor you," a small leer quirked his lips as he turned his gaze back on Haldir.

"You will give him to me." Haldir shook his head firmly, his grey eyes flat and hard, a warrior's expressionless stare.

"Never."

"I think you will," Tindómëtir said quietly, his near-black eyes holding immense satisfaction as he raised a hand. Haldir turned slowly in the direction he indicated as two other elves materialized out of the trees, carrying two cloth wrapped bundles in their arms. With a swift shake, they flung two objects before the Lórien elf's feet.

Haldir's felt his heart fall through hi stomach as the broken bow rolled to the ground, the fluttering cloak sinking down on top of it. He recognized Ancadal's handmade bow and Rameil's cloak spun from the grey cloth of the Golden Wood- now slashed and bloodstained.

"What did you do to them?" Haldir hissed softly, his voice laced with furious anger. Behind him, Legolas shifted nervously, his wide eyes fixed on the broken weapon and torn cloak in horror.

"Your friends still live- for now. But for how long I cannot say," Tindómëtir said softly, a wicked smile briefly crossing his face. "It would be better if you cooperated with us."

Haldir merely glared at Tindómëtir who stood not two paces from him, a hand outstretched for Legolas.

"Give him to me."

Anger rose like a fiery tide in his veins as Haldir took a step backwards, unsure of where he could go. The spider poison was slowly eating at him again and he stumbled against one of the elves flanking Tindómëtir. The elf, thinking he was attacking, immediately retaliated and Haldir found himself jolted to his knees by a sudden blow to the back of his head. He desperately tried to hang onto both consciousness and Legolas but both eluded him as Tindómëtir pulled the younger elf from his failing grasp and he slid senseless to the snow.

Legolas thrashed against the grip holding him, his mind kicking into overdrive as he discerned the face of the one looming over him. He struggled furiously against his captor but Tindómëtir held him in a grip tighter than iron.

"Haldir!" Legolas called out desperately, not knowing that Haldir could not hear him. A hard blow connected with his skull and the world careened into blackness.

Chapter Text

Consciousness returned slowly and Haldir wished it hadn't when he finally came back to himself. His head pounded horribly courtesy of the blow to the back of his head and the lingering traces of the spider venom still in his blood; his mouth felt as dry as sand paper and he felt decidedly sick. There was a coldness pressing against his bare skin and he shivered, realizing that he had been relieved of his tunic as well as his weapons.

He tried to sit up and his back twinged with a sharp, stabbing pain, making him hiss. A soft scrape as though of metal on stone made him open his eyes and he realized that the sound was coming from him. His wrists were chained with heavy fetters, so tightly clamped that they cut into his skin with the slightest movement. The bolts stapling them to the wall, held him firmly in place.

Something had been smeared over the spider bite on his neck and the sting in it had lessened as he reached up to feel it.

His vision swimming, he gradually focused on the room he was in. It was small and very dark. A single torch sat jammed into the bracket beside a heavy wooden door, closely bolted on the other side, he was sure. The dim view of the room was not encouraging. It was damp and smelled moldy as though very old and deserted. He could hear nothing but the silence of stone around him.

The quiet pressed so horribly on his ears, Haldir felt he would surely shout aloud just to break it. He settled for testing the strength of his chains, pulling and wrestling with them until his wrists began to bleed but it was no use. The sturdy iron held him fast.

Haldir slumped at last, defeated for the moment, as his head throbbed worse than ever and nausea seized his stomach. He didn't know how long he lay like that, trying not to think about his companions or what might be happening to them. But it was no use. What had become of them? Were they imprisoned as he was? Or worse? He looked up sharply, startled, as footsteps echoed in what must have been a corridor outside of his prison- for surely this was a dungeon.

He heard the heavy bar on the other side of the door lift and thud dully as it was leaned up against the lintel. The door swung open soundlessly on well-oiled hinges as Haldir struggled to his feet to see his visitor, a wave of vertigo passing over him as he did so.

What looked like a guard stepped into his line of vision, his face carefully devoid of emotion. He wore the livery of green and silver, the colors of the King. Haldir narrowed his eyes against the dim light, recognizing him vaguely as Kirar, a guard of the palace. Another guard, this one entirely unfamiliar, entered behind Kirar and shut the door.

"Sit down," the guard commanded, his voice harsh and blunt.

Haldir ignored the order.

"I have done no wrong. Why have I been brought here?" he demanded, anger infusing into his tone.

But the guard did not answer his question either. He darted forward and viciously kicked Haldir's legs out from under him, pressing down on his shoulders to keep him immobile.

"I told you to sit down and you will do so," he hissed, glancing up towards his commanding officer. Kirar merely nodded.

Haldir stopped struggling as his head gave a particularly painful twinge. He closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them again, he took a deep breath and spoke more calmly.

"I have done you no wrong- nor have I done wrong to the King. Might I ask why I have been imprisoned and on what charges?"

"Your charges you will face later," Kirar answered, stepping slowly forward and taking the torch from the bracket so he could examine the prisoner's face. Their lord had instructed them to interrogate him and Kirar felt a slight twinge of revulsion for what he had to do. He did not like the way this was being done. His lord and master had not told him his oath of fealty would involve this. They were to be kept down here and given no food or drink. Those were his orders. As well as several other less pleasant things that he shuddered to think on let alone carry out.

"Where is Legolas? Is he all right?" his prisoner asked, half-wildly when Kirar did not speak after a moment.

"I was about to ask you the same question," Kirar responded dryly, forcing a stern glare down at the other elf. Haldir frowned.

"What?"

"What have you done with the prince?" Kirar demanded roughly, ignoring the shocked look on the other elf's face. He stared down at the elf before him, a bright surge of anger roiling through him as he thought of their prince, alone and undefended in some horrible, dark and lonely place.

Haldir shook his aching head, trying to make sense of the words.

"What do you mean what have I done with him? I never-"

"You kidnapped the prince, now tell me what you have done with him!" The other Elven Guard's patience was running thin as well.

Haldir was beginning to get angry in his turn now and more than a little worried. He twisted in his chains against the hands digging into his shoulders to face the other guard.

"I did nothing to him! We searched for him because he ran away- I found him and I was going to take him home-"

"But, he was too good a pawn in your little game to give up wasn't he?" the guard snarled. "You will hurt a defenseless child to satisfy your ambition! You are evil, spawn of Morgoth."

Haldir glared at the elf who had spoken, the offense at the insult flashing in his stormy eyes.

"What?" He couldn't seem to think straight. All of these questions that made no sense! Lies, he realized. All lies. Allies of Ainan's who had branded the Lothlórien elves traitorous had turned even those who might help him against him.

"You have to listen to me!" Haldir attempted to speak in a calm tone though his worry for the prince increased with every second that they wasted. "Legolas was taken in the forest-"

"By whom?" the other guard sneered disbelievingly. Haldir shook his head, his head hurting worse than ever as he berated himself, trying to call to mind a vision of his attackers but nothing would come and the half-formed images slipped from his mind like water in his cupped hands.

"I-I don't know."

The unfamiliar elven guard shook his head, his lips curling in disgust.

"More lies."

Kirar said nothing, his eyes downcast in anger or thought.

In a shadowy corner of the room, the dark elf who watched the proceedings invisibly, smiled.

It was the darkness that frightened him most. It swirled around him, pressing against him, bringing with it memories of a time he wished he could forget.

Legolas shivered against the bone-numbing cold that even he could feel and wrapped his arms around his knees to try to keep warm, bundling himself up into as small a ball as possible. He was still soaking wet in his damp clothes. He had not been chained- yet- and a damp bedding of straw had been laid out for him to sleep on. There were no windows and no doors that he could see for he sat in pitch blackness. He didn't even know how big the room was. The stone at his back was dank and wet, small droplets of moisture beaded from the walls, soaking through his tunic and dripping onto his disheveled head but he dared not move for fear of losing the last bit of solidity holding him against his nightmares.

His mind told him that it was far past sundown for he was bone tired. But he could not be sure in this lightlessness and he could not sleep. He was miserable and hungry and his wrist hurt horribly for it was healing badly; he had lost his sling and bandage in the river. The constant strain he had been putting on it had done no miracles for it either.

Despite his own misfortune, he hoped Haldir was all right. The only thing the prince could remember was being pulled from the river by his friend and then waking with Ainan's guards around them. He shook with fear as he remembered his last waking moments, wondering what would happen to him now. His uncle would be so angry with him!

Despair clutching at his heart, he pulled his knees up tighter against his chest and dropped his head into his arms. He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, trying to keep his tears at bay but they just continued to build: a howl of misery swirling and tearing inside of him that longed for release.

He raised his head sharply as the door creaked and swung open. The prince scrambled to his feet stiffly and pressed himself into the corner of the cell, as far away as he could get from the door that spilled a glistening pool of faint flickering light upon him, stinging his eyes so that he flung a forearm up to shield them.

"My subordinate told me you were dead. Glad I am to find you alive, tôrion (nephew)."

That cold, cruel voice sent a shudder of fear and revulsion through the young prince's body. Ainan held a long torch in one slender hand. He slid it into a bracket on the side of the wall, dimly illuminating the room with a harsh, wavering glow.

"I warned you those elves would get you into trouble- le ú-lasto nîn (you didn't listen to me.)"

Ainan bent low so he could look up into his nephew's terrified eyes. Legolas flinched away from that silver-blue gaze that latched onto his like the talons of a hawk, clutching him in their cold grip.

"That was very foolish, nephew. I told you before, Legolas, this is for your own good. You have been a very bad boy. And as such you must be punished."

A small whimper caught in the back of the prince's throat as his blue eyes filled with frightened tears.

"Please Vedhir… I'm-I'm sorry… I didn't mean to disobey you- I won't do it again, I swear. Just please-"

Ainan shook his head and laid a finger on the elf-child's pleading lips.

"Shhh, tithen (little one). No tears, remember?" His voice was soft, almost cajoling as though he were a parent persuading a child to calm down after a fall on the stairs.

Legolas swallowed the hard chunk in his throat and blinked his vision clear as Ainan withdrew and the dark elf took his place in the young elf's line of vision. Tindómëtir roughly forced him against the floor, lashing his arms in front of him. The young prince began to tremble against the cold floor as he curled protectively in on himself, keeping his face low, his cheek cold against the stone floor.

Scarlet robes swept the damp stone at his eye's level. Legolas kept his gaze on the floor, not daring to look up into his uncle's face.

The prince suppressed a shiver.

"Lasto, (listen)," came the soft, beguiling voice from somewhere above him. Ainan stood perfectly still, leaning slightly forward. Legolas strained his ears.

"What do you hear?" Ainan asked. Legolas shook his head, gladly seizing upon any distraction that would delay his uncle punishing him.

"I hear nothing, Vedhir."

The evil elf laughed.

"Precisely! Nothing but absolute silence." He leaned closer, cupping his nephew's chin tightly in one long-fingered hand and wrenching his neck upward, his expression hard and yet rapt, exultant.

"Do you know how far we are from even the lowest cellars of this palace? I could drain the life's blood from you- and no one would ever hear you scream."

A cold sweat broke over Legolas' shivering body as those words bored into his mind, into his soul.

At a gesture, the dark elf stepped forward and slapped the handle of a long, leather whip into his lord's upturned palm. Ainan lashed it with apparent satisfaction, lifting it so that Legolas received a good long look at the horrible implement. The metal tips gleamed frighteningly in the flickering torchlight. Legolas started to shake uncontrollably as Tindómëtir dragged him upright and led him towards a vertical post sunk in the middle of the room that he had not seen before.

Dark spots and spatters smeared the floor around it. To Legolas' horrified eyes, it looked like old blood. He winced slightly as his sore wrists and ankles were secured once more by heavy chains that stretched him tightly against the wooden pole so that he could not struggle. His hands were cold with fear though his palms had begun to sweat as he listened to the silence around him.

He strained his neck, trying to peer over his shoulder but quite suddenly his uncle stepped into his line of vision, making him jump with startled fright. The chains clinked as he moved.

"I have never hit you with something like this before- it is very effective in curbing the disobedient. And I will enjoy this, nephew," Ainan said with a demented smile. "Your punishment is long overdue."

Legolas was trembling before the first blow even struck him. And when it did, he scarcely suppressed a yelp. He could feel the metal tipped thongs slicing into his back, ripping strips of skin from his shoulder blades. After the second or third lash, he could not help the tears streaming down his face and the babbling cries that broke from his lips. The blood was running down his back as the corrective whip curled around his side, scoring his ribs. Sweat dripped down into his eyes as he pressed his brow against the harsh wood of the pole, clenching his chains in his fingers so tightly his fingers hurt.

"Please, stop," he begged shamelessly, not caring how weak his uncle thought him as long as the pain stopped. "Please… Vedhir… stop it… Naneth, Naneth, thaed-nin, (Mother, Mother, help me,)" he sobbed wretchedly, no longer entirely sure of where he was. His words fell on deaf ears and after awhile, his pleas dwindled into incomprehensible sobs and still his uncle did not stop.

It was by far the worst beating he had ever received. But it was neither the last nor to be the worst he would ever receive from his uncle's hands.

The biting pain left him dizzy and reeling against the wooden pole, unable to collect himself as he hung limp in the chains now, unable to get his feet under him even to keep the pressure from his sore wrist. His legs refused to hold him.

When Tindómëtir unchained him, he fell limply to the ground, prostrate, with his belly pressed against the floor. Tears and sweat mingled with the blood on his face, dripping slowly onto the stone. His back felt as though it were on fire and he dared not move for fear of aggravating his injuries further.

He prayed his uncle was finished with him and would just let him die. But it was not to be. He felt rending fingers dig into his hair and pull him up mercilessly. Legolas could not even manage the strength to whimper at this new stab of pain through his aching skull as Tindómëtir held him up in a tight grip for examination.

Ainan thrust the prince's chin up roughly with the handle of the whip, coldly inspecting his flushed face.

"The prince of Mirkwood," Ainan sneered into Legolas' face. "Sobbing like an infant afraid of the dark- unable to free himself, to control himself." His tone turned, if possible, even colder.

"Your father would be ashamed of you, boy. Thankfully he is not here to witness how far his son has fallen."

Unable to look into his uncle's eyes for shame, Legolas kept them fastened on the floor, new tears burning his eyes. He fought them down determinedly, unwilling to show anymore weakness before his uncle and disgrace himself more than he already had.

Tindómëtir hauled the young prince backward, forcing his neck into some horrible contraption that had been attached to the wall. An iron collar flipped around his neck, attaching him tightly to the stone, restraining all movement. He couldn't even bend his knees for fear of choking himself to death as his back scraped painfully against the stone. His wrists were weighted with heavy chains that dragged him to the ground but though his limbs trembled with the exertion of holding them up, he could not release them.

"Haldir," Legolas murmured, squeezing his eyes shut as he desperately tried to force his mind away from this new torment. Ainan smiled coldly.

"He left you, child. He is the reason you are here now, suffering like this." Legolas glared up at him defiantly but his rebellion was short-lived.

"He didn't leave me! He-" The prince clamped his mouth shut tightly for fear of saying too much. But a fledgling doubt wormed its way into Legolas' mind, snaking sinuously around his thoughts. Where was Haldir? Had he too been taken? Was he dead? He said he wouldn't leave me...

His uncle seemed to read in his eyes more than the prince revealed.

"You believed he could protect you?" Ainan scoffed. "That worthless filth could not save you anymore than your father could."

"Speaking of which," with a corrosive smile, Ainan turned towards the door as it opened once more. Tindómëtir heaved a dark something into the room behind him. Legolas hadn't even noticed that the other elf had left until now but Ainan's next words reeled in his attention.

"Here is someone you have long missed, tôrion."

Legolas looked up in mingled horror and relief at the uncovered figure bound and gagged before him.

"Adar," he whispered. Guilt and shame pierced him anew as he looked upon his father's beloved face.

Thranduil looked terribly ill and thin for his captors had fed him just enough to keep him alive and barely that. Great dark bruises and wicked lacerations bore silent tormented witness to long nights of abuse and his wrists were raw and bloodied from the days he had spent in chains. His once handsome face looked gaunt in the torchlight, his eyes sunken and hollow as he raised them slowly to his son's face.

Legolas looked quickly away, not wanting his father to see his shame and tears that were welling in his eyes.

Ainan slapped the handle of the whip in the palm of his hand as he stood before Thranduil, flicking the blood-stained tips idly at his face. The King flinched away from them, a shudder racing through him. Anger, guilt and grief pierced him as he realized how much his son had suffered: Legolas wouldn't even look at him!

"You were always too soft with the boy- he needed to be taught. And he has been." Ainan's eyes flamed wickedly. "He has learned, Thranduil. He has learned how his own father let him down, left him and abandoned him."

Ainan smiled as Thranduil gritted his teeth around the tight cord in his mouth, his blue eyes blazing with anger and hatred. But beneath it, his brother-in-law could see the pain and knew he had struck a nerve. He knew how much Thranduil loathed himself for what he felt he had allowed to happen to his wife and son.

For the moment, however, Ainan turned his back on the King and loomed over the young prince once more. Legolas looked up at him with naked fear in his eyes.

"Say it."

Legolas shook his head hesitatingly, not knowing what his uncle wanted him to say. Ainan glared down at him sternly.

"Apologize to your father!" Ainan ordered, giving him a cut with the whip. Legolas shied away from the blow, his small body shaking with silent sobs that he viciously repressed.

"I-I'm sorry, Adar. I'm sorry."

"For?" Ainan prompted.

"For being weak and foolish. I do not deserve to be called your son," Legolas' own horrible, self-deprecating thoughts supplied the words, tears pouring unchecked down the young prince's face, try as he might to stop them, his heart slowly breaking. He wasn't what Haldir had wasn't brave or noble. He was scared and ashamed. He could not, dared not, call himself the King's son.

Thranduil writhed against the bit in his mouth, longing with all his heart to speak to his son, to reassure him that he still loved him and did not hate him. How he wished to wipe the tears from his dear child's eyes and embrace him with all of his might.

But all Legolas saw was the stone floor, unable to look up and see what he thought would be his father's disappointment and rage. Tindómëtir seized the King by the hair and dragged him away at a voiceless command from his master.

The damage had been done.

Ainan stepped back with a cruel smile on his face.

"Look what you have done, Legolas. See how shamed he is of you? He cannot even bear the sight of you," Ainan hissed softly, knowing full well that Legolas would not look up for humiliation.

"What would your mother think if she could see you now?"

The young prince's voice hitched with sobs as he shot a panicked glance up at his uncle. He could not bear to have his mother look at him the way he imagined his father had. He could not bear her disappointment.

"Please, Vedhir, please don't tell my mother…"

Ainan looked down at the slumped golden head of his nephew, his eyes stony as he whispered, almost to himself.

"I wonder which will break first- you or your mother's heart?"

Haldir began to become increasingly frustrated. No one would tell him anything. He had no idea where his friends were or, indeed, if they were even still alive and Legolas had vanished from the face of the earth. Beneath the broil of anger and pain that nearly overwhelmed him, his sense of guilt and failure cut through him like a knife.

He had failed them. All of them. Rameil and Ancadal had fallen into enemy hands because he had left them. He had abandoned his command and they had suffered because of it he was sure. Legolas had been captured because he was stupid enough to walk right into a trap without noticing they were being pursued.

He had been left alone for a long time now, neither given food nor drink. His accusing thoughts would not let him rest. He lay in dark thought, watching the lantern flicker until the door to his cell opened once more and Kirar entered again. He crossed the room in three strides and swiftly unlocked the chains from around the other elf's wrists.

Looking up, Haldir saw another guard stood in the doorway, an arrow half-drawn to his bow. He didn't have to ask to know that if he moved that arrow would end up in him.

Kirar moved quickly, wrapping a leather restraint around Haldir's wrists, tying them tightly and attaching them to a lead he held in his hand. The elven lieutenant grabbed his arm roughly and pulled him to his feet.

"It is time for you to face your charges," he said by way of explanation.

Haldir found himself unceremoniously dragged from his prison and a blindfold fastened tightly about his eyes. He stumbled in his blindness, unsure of where to put his feet as the lead around his wrists tautened. He expanded his senses, straining to listen to every sound, hear every breath exhaled by the guards at his sides, the slightest echo of a footstep or trickle of water. He felt a sharp prick in his lower back and jerked forward in surprise.

"Attempt to escape and your friends will die," a soft cruel voice whispered acerbically. Haldir stiffened in anger as he recognized Tindómëtir's dark tones.

"What have you done with them?" he hissed back but a warning tug on his constraints silenced him. Haldir walked a little faster to keep away from the sharp point at his back and to keep the lead rope slack so he wouldn't stumble.

They moved as silently as ghosts and Haldir quickly lost track of how many turns and twists they took. Every so often, he could see a flare of light through the dark linen around his eyes as though from torches but they were gone quickly and he was plunged back into darkness.

He nearly tripped as his foot suddenly met the lowest tier in a long flight of stairs that spiraled quickly upward. Dimly, he could hear the growing murmur of voices. A crowd of people seemed to have gathered somewhere in the upper halls of the palace.

The damp smell of the stone had vanished and now he felt a fresher breeze on his face. Someone untied the bandage from around his eyes and he blinked slightly against the glare of the sunlight that poured through the arched windows. He glanced around with a growing sense of apprehension at the crowd that had gathered inside the cavernous hall.

There were elven guards interspersed among the spectators, flanking the doors through which he had entered, were two others holding long slender bows and an arrow notched to each bowstring. There was to be no escape from here. Haldir searched among the sea of unfamiliar features and finally caught sight of Rameil and Ancadal who were led forward, also bound. Silently, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least they were still alive and looked mostly unhurt.

The room was stately and grand. On either side marched tall, dark green veined pillars. The sunlight gleamed off the gold and turned the white marble cream. At the pillars' great feet stood more guards in the livery of the King with arrows half-drawn and faces of stone. The bright light pouring through the arched windows starkly contrasted with the grimness of the fair faces surrounding him.

As Kirar led him forward, Haldir tried not to look at the people around him: elves that whispered behind their hands or eyed him darkly with mistrust and even fear. He felt rather self-conscious under all of those scrutinizing, piercing gazes but kept his head up and stared straight ahead towards the far end of the hall where sat a raised dais above three long broad stairs. On either side of a tall ornate wooden chair sat two others, less richly carved but grand.

Ainan sat in the centre chair, robed in a rich scarlet robe of state, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. Most of those others on the King's council were elves Haldir did not recognize and Telas' former place on the right hand side of the King had been taken by a radiant, dark-haired female with viciously calculating eyes. He would find no help there.

The Queen was strangely absent.

Tindómëtir cast one last sardonic grin at him before bounding quickly up the stairs to take his place behind his master's chair. Ainan stood slowly from his seat, raising his voice so that all could hear.

"Do you know what you stand charged of, elves of Lothlórien?" he asked silkily.

Rameil and Ancadal glanced at Haldir for instructions but he subtly shook his head, warning them to make no answer. There was little they could say that would help their situation.

Finding them unresponsive, Ainan continued, pacing slowly down the stairs.

"Since you arrived here, Mirkwood has fallen into the darkest of shadow. Our trusted councilor was taken to Mandos' Halls not long ago- found poisoned in his room- and you were seen leaving those very rooms that night- and outside of them the day before. Trying to recover the evidence were you not?" Ainan's face wore a dark scowl but Haldir knew there was a smile twitching the corners of his lips.

"Our beloved King was also taken from us in the very forest he ruled over. It is impossible that he could have been attacked by anyone other than elves and yet most of his soldiers were with him when he went on that hunt. All were slain," he informed the surrounding spectators with a shake of his head.

"And now, our prince is missing- kidnapped, and perhaps murdered, by these strangers- traitors to our realm I name thee now!"

Ainan swept a hand out dramatically, his voice ringing through the tense air.

Haldir's eyes widened as he realized now the position they were in: accused of base treachery, high treason to the crown, of murder.

Ainan could do as he pleased with them.

"Coincidentally, all occurred at the same moment you happened to arrive in our forest. I told you once, my People, that outsiders were not to be trusted and I say now that any who count these traitorous elves among their friends or allies are as good as they and, as such, deserves their punishment," Ainan's keen eyes flickered around the hall, searching for any sympathetic faces, and finding none.

Haldir closed his eyes for a moment. The fact that the real traitors indeed stood before them without their knowing chafed him horribly. There would have been something darkly amusing in this scene had it not been so deadly serious.

"Will you not confess to your crimes?"

Haldir opened his eyes, raising his head proudly.

"We have been allies of Mirkwood since it was founded. We would not betray them now. What have we to gain from it?" Haldir said, softly but with quiet authority. He knew nothing he could say would sway the angry, sorrow-filled faces around him. But he had to try.

"You are merely trying to insinuate yourselves among us so that your Lady's influence spreads until she controls all of this great forest! And it begins here... with murder!" Ainan shouted, his eyes blazing. Those eyes held more truth than the lies spilling from his lips.

"That is preposterous!" Haldir insisted, trying not to show his anger. "We wish no such thing. Why would we resort to murder if one of our own is dead?"

Ainan smiled and shrugged.

"Who is to say he is dead? More than likely, he returned to Lórien to bring tidings to your sorceress so she may prepare her forces."

Muttering arose at this. And Haldir saw Ancadal shudder angrily.

"You buried him yourself!- you lie!" the younger elf burst out, throwing a hateful glare like a javelin at the false king.

"Burned," Ainan corrected gently in so soft a whisper so that even those pressed close could not have heard.

"Another lie concocted for our benefit," Ainan spoke in a louder tone, a deprecating smile falling across his lips. He seemed to be truly enjoying this.

The entire hall stood breathless, waiting upon their new King's word- to see what he would do with the traitors.

"You are fortunate I do not remove your head from your shoulders though there are many who would thank me for it," he smiled diabolically.

"Murdering spies," Ainan spat in contempt. One could not help but believe him. The power of his mind and iron will was nearly overwhelming, choking out all other thoughts. Eyes turned towards the emissaries in dark horror and mistrust.

Haldir bristled but did not move, knowing full well that any anger he expressed would be taken as a threat and thus punished. He felt so powerless! Unconsciously, he clenched his fists, straining against his bonds as he longed to hit the grinning elf before him.

Anger and frustration boiled in his veins like hot water. Haldir's gaze raked the other's inscrutable face and could detect nothing. But there was a strange look in Ainan's eyes as though a flood of rage threatened to burst the constrained calm. His eyes flickered downward to break the gaze of the serpent before him and he tensed, catching sight of what looked like a dark spatter hardly visible against the scarlet sleeve of Ainan's royal robes. Haldir's eyes flooded with horror.

"What have you done with Legolas?" he hissed. Ainan gave him a faint smile but it did not reach his eyes.

"I was not aware that Mirkwood royalty answered to the lowly soldiers of Lothlórien."

Haldir lunged forward.

Restraining hands seized his shoulders. Haldir twisted around, trying to see who had grabbed him. Elven soldiers with mask like faces had seized him. Another stepped forward with his bow drawn tight to the string, the sharp tip nearly brushing Haldir's chin. Ainan paced slowly up to the elven captain, smiling idly. In the shadows, he could see Rameil and Ancadal held in a similar manner.

"I know you for what you are," Haldir whispered quietly, his eyes burning as he stared at the other elf in absolute fury, still struggling against the constraining arms of his guards. "You will pay for this treason," he snarled boldly. His tone was nowhere near as frigid as his eyes. Ainan grinned more broadly down at him.

"Watch your tongue, traitor. I am master here." He cocked his head almost thoughtfully, a slight smile on his face.

"I think… you need to spend a night in our dungeons to reflect on the consequences of your actions until I see fit to release you and give you to the executioner."

"You cannot hold us against our will!" Haldir cried out, shocked at this injustice though he knew it should not have surprised him. Ainan merely signaled to the guards who dragged them away without question, their faces blank and emotionless as they turned on their own.

Tindómëtir smiled in quiet satisfaction, halting the guards with a gesture under the dark doorway which twisted back down towards the cells. He leaned towards Haldir with a malicious glitter in his dark eyes.

"Take your last sight of the sun, Haldir. For you will not see it again."

Haldir fought towards the elf but one of the guards smote him in the jaw, knocking him to his knees and wrenching his tied wrists up painfully. Haldir shook himself as he was dragged back to his feet.

A young woman stood in the shadows, her bright eyes watching as the three elves were dragged away. Her plain servant's dress rustled as she rushed quickly away to report all that she had seen and heard.

Chapter Text

Anariel watched the blood red sun retreat slowly into a growing wrack of dark clouds, igniting their underbellies with an orange fire but giving no warmth and no cheer. Her high window in the palace overlooked her own gardens, beautiful even under a glaze of lingering frost. It had been four nights since her son had been missing and with each passing hour, Anariel felt despair creep further over her as the darkness crept further over the forest.

With her husband gone and her son, she was the only obstacle left blocking Ainan's path to becoming the absolute ruler over all of Mirkwood.

It was a frightening thought.

She felt trapped and terribly alone, knowing very well that she could end up in the dungeons or dead- Ainan had threatened her with as much. She trod a thin line and it grew thinner by the day, by the hour. She felt so helpless. Not knowing what was happening around her was tearing her apart.

A strange feeling crept over her and Anariel shivered though she didn't quite know why. Something felt very wrong- a clenched feeling in her chest that she couldn't explain. A sudden rat-tat on the door made her jump and whirl towards it, tense and apprehensive. Never mind that her brother never knocked anyway.

Slowly, she stood.

"Who is it?"

"My lady, it is I."

Anariel quickly unbarred the door to admit the young soldier that had been placed in charge of her keeping. She smiled softly at him as he bustled into the room and set a covered platter on the table. Her lunch, no doubt. But she had no desire to eat or think of food at all and returned to staring out her dark window, thanking the young soldier vaguely for his thoughtfulness.

Rinniad shifted nervously from one foot to the other, wondering if he should go. But as he moved towards the door, he looked back at the slender woman. His best friend's mother. The Queen. A woman he and his family had known since before he could remember. The summers he and Legolas had spent together, swimming in the pond under her watchful eye, learning lore and language of their people at her feet. She was not just his liege-lady: she was like a second mother to him. And he saw the pain of her loneliness and despair as keenly as he felt his own. He missed and feared for his friends achingly. He couldn't imagine what she must be going through.

"You miss him terribly," Rinniad said quietly, noticing her abstracted look but unsure of what to say. There was nothing he could say that would assuage her despair. He sat down slowly next to her, looking at his hands twisting in his lap. "Me too."

Anariel glanced over at him, her long fair hair falling like a golden curtain about her face. She drew her arms about herself tightly as though she were cold.

"I remember holding him in my arms when he was just a little boy," she whispered quietly, her voice trembling slightly. For Elves, a child was one of the most blessed of gifts from Eru and they treasured their children dearer than their own lives. Rinniad knew the Queen would have given hers to have her son back and he felt his own throat tighten as he thought of his best friend, cold and hungry, alone, maybe hurt. Not quite sure what to do, he laid a hand on the now softly weeping elf woman's shoulder.

"Do not worry," he said, trying to find the strength in him to smile hopefully. "We will find them."

"How?" she asked tearfully, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, giving him such a look of horrible hopelessness that it smote him to the core.

Rinniad looked at her in sorrow, wishing he had an answer to give. He was saved by a knock rapping upon her door again, soft and gentle. He rose quickly and let the servant in.

"Vanima, what news?" Anariel asked urgently, grasping the young maid by the forearms as she bowed before her. The green-eyed woman shook her head sadly.

"The elves of Lórien were tried for treason and taken to the dungeons, Bereth-nin (my Queen)."

Anariel felt her heart sink in her chest at those words, closing her eyes for a moment as despair finally overwhelmed her. Their last allies were gone.

"Did you see my son?" she asked desperately at last, looking beseechingly up at the maiden.

Vanima shook her head sadly, her eyes dark, downcast.

"No, Your Majesty."

"Well, no news at least is good news," Rinniad put in, trying to sound hopeful then added more softly. "He may yet be alive."

"Did Ainan pronounce sentence on them, Vanima?" Anariel asked quietly, locking away her anguish for the time being as she mastered herself.

"He is going to imprison them until he sees fit to execute them."

Anariel's beautiful countenance hardened almost imperceptibly as she shook her head in denial.

"No. We cannot allow that to happen- whatever happens, we must do what we can for them."

"Why?" Rinniad asked, a slight frown darkening his brow as he shot a glance down at her, forgetting for a moment that he was talking to the Queen of Mirkwood.

Legolas had thought the elves of Lothlórien trustworthy but old prejudices still lingered and the younger elf wasn't ready to put his faith in them entirely. He didn't see why his beloved Queen should risk her very life trying to help those elves who might have been the cause of all of this.

"They do not deserve death unjustly," Anariel said quietly. It was not exactly a rebuke but her sharp eyes piercing his own proved to him that she guessed what he was thinking.

"We must do what we can for those we know are yet alive." She looked up at the young soldier who stood over her and saw his fierce loyalty in the depths of his green eyes as she took his hand gently.

"Do not let my brother's fair-seeming lies darken your heart against our kindred, Rinniad," she cautioned softly, giving his hand a parental squeeze. "The elves of Lothlórien have ever been our allies and friends in time of need- you are too young to remember that and it does not matter now. But what does matter is that if they are executed, our last hope will be gone and Mirkwood will fall completely into darkness. We cannot let that happen."

The younger elf was silent for a moment, absorbing her words, and nodded at last.

"Haldir told me to protect you," Rinniad said stoutly, firming his shoulders and standing up straighter. "And I'm going to do just that. You're not safe here, Your Majesty- we have to get you away from here as fast as we can. Leave Mirkwood, perhaps for Lórien…" He still looked unsure with creased brow of distrust.

Anariel raised her head proudly and shook her head with a small, sad smile.

"No, my boy. I will not leave my people nor hide like a rabbit gone to ground," she said firmly.

"But, my lady-" Rinniad protested volubly, clearly arguing against the wisdom of this. To stay in the palace meant certain death! Why could she not see that?

Anariel met his incredulous gaze calmly.

"I have lived here all my happy life. And if I must end it here, so be it." Her bright, blue gaze streaked with silver, regarded them gently though her eyes were stern, determined. "Will you help me?"

Both Vanima and Rinniad nodded.

"We will, my lady."

Haldir sat despondently in his cell with his back against the stone wall. He shifted himself slightly on the most inhospitable floor, his chains scraping as he moved. The elf closed his eyes, feeling his stomach rumble with hunger. It had long since given up its hope of being fed. His throat felt parched and dry and the thick air in this stuffy cell did nothing to alleviate his thirst or assuage the dislike of cramped spaces that had plagued him for as long as he could remember. His jaw still ached dully from when he had been struck but at least it was not broken. Haldir glanced around at his bare cell for what felt like the thousandth time since he had been deposited there.

His ears perked up suddenly as a soft sound reached his ears. He frowned; it sounded like… sobbing? Haldir leaned forward in the darkness, narrowing his keen eyes to try to see past the iron bars covering the narrow slit hole in the wooden door of his prison. But here, in this abominable lightlessness, his elven eyes could pierce nothing. And the soft crying soon faded into silence. Haldir felt a chill run through his bones and shiver his soul.

Haldir did not know how long it had been since he had been imprisoned here and wondered if Ancadal and Rameil were all right. They had all been separated after the trial and taken down other halls to other cells where they could neither hear nor speak to one another. He had no idea where they were but he prayed they fared better than he.

It was the long hours of nothing that were the worst. The waiting. Nothing happened for interminable stretches of time in which the spider wound in his neck burned, thirst tortured him and the unceasing darkness preyed dangerously on his sanity. His stomach twisted with anxiety and pain and he prayed Legolas was all right- still alive if nothing else.

A scraping at his door alerted him to someone opening his cell and he rose guardedly to his feet. The elf that entered was young, not much younger than Haldir- a solider obviously but a callow one. Haldir stepped forward cautiously, his rattling chains alerting the other to his movement. The guard looked up sharply, his brows drawn together in consternation as he eyed the older elf with what seemed to be fear. Haldir's own frown deepened as he eyed the length of braided leather coiled in the other's hand.

"I am to be flogged?" Haldir questioned calmly in quiet outrage. The sentinel's face remained implacable and Haldir wondered what lies he had been told for him to comply with this. The Eldar did not treat each other such and to do so was a grave offense.

"I am here to see if you wish to confess to your crimes against the King and admit your guilt freely."

"And if I wish to do no such thing?" Haldir retorted, already knowing what the cost of his defiance would be. But he would not lie to escape punishment; it was beneath him. The sentinel shrugged helplessly, raising the whip in his hand.

"It is King Ainan's orders."

"Ainan is not the King," Haldir reminded him softly, cool fire in his eyes. The guard's face hardened as he shook his head vehemently, a hint of black anger and fear breaking his façade.

"He might as well be. To deny him is to invite death- I cannot disobey a direct order." The elf reached for him. Now Haldir knew he had at least been threatened with torment or worse.

"You do not want to do this," Haldir said quietly, stepping back.

For a moment, hesitation and dismay warred with duty on the elf's fair face but then he mastered himself and took a few more steps towards the prisoner.

"Please," he entreated, his eyes begging the other elf. "-if you could just-" He gestured that the older elf was to turn around. But Haldir was not going to make this easy for him and merely blinked calmly.

"Please," the guard pleaded, casting a longing glance at the closed door as though wishing he could run through it and not look back. Haldir remained unmoved.

Sighing deeply with what seemed like profound frustration, the guard lashed out. The flattened knuckles of his hand caught Haldir underneath his already bruised jaw, knocking him to the ground.

Swiftly, the guard shortened the fetters by several arm lengths through the ring bolted to the wall to keep the elf on his knees. Haldir shook his head as the stun wore off and looked up at the young soldier with cool pity. The elf stared back at him, determination, fear and loathing etched on his fair face.

"I'm sorry," he offered as he raised the lash.

A dark shadow slipped down the silent stone corridors, down the age- and water-worn steps, its footsteps as light as a feather and as noiseless. With no more a sound than a moth's wings, the figure padded down the hallway swiftly, in one tightly clenched fist dangled a ring of keys.

Pausing at the end of a long, dank hall where moisture dripped from the damp walls and sputtered in the nearly extinguished torches, the faint silhouette grated a key in the lock of a heavy wooden door, slid back the bolt and tugged it open.

Rameil raised his head, squinting in the suddenly bright light that pierced the darkness he had lain in for what seemed like a lifetime. He tensed automatically, still feeling the pain of the unjust lashes he had received not long enough ago. The only other reason someone would be opening this door would be to feed him, but that, somehow seemed unlikely.

"Who are you?" he asked hoarsely as the silhouette slid into the room and shut the door halfway, leaving a sliver of light stabbing the deep darkness of the prison.

"Shh," the whispered caution came from unseen lips as the figure bent down and loosened his shackles. He slipped his wrists from the restraints and rubbed the chafed limbs thoughtfully as he looked up into his rescuer's shadowed face. But the figure moved away from his searching gaze and instead took something from the belt girded at its hip, handing it to him.

Suspecting that his intuition about this mysterious elf was right, Rameil took the flask and upended it, rewarded by the sweet taste of clear spring water as it ran down his parched throat.

The figure did not raise its eyes to the torchlight but kept the hood lowered over its face as it spoke.

"Find your friends. But you must make haste," the soft voice said quietly, sounding almost feminine in nature. "You do not have much time." Rameil looked up at his rescuer in amazement as he handed the drained decanter back, gratitude and relief shining in his eyes.

"Thank you."

"There will be allies waiting for you should you escape from here- they will find you. But you must hurry now." There was a determined glint in the eyes that looked down at him.

He nodded and thanked the elusive apparition again as the figure passed him the keys and as quickly as it had come, it was gone, out the door and up the stairs with scarcely more than a whisper like a fading dream.

Haldir lay on the floor of his prison, breathing raggedly. His back burned and he could feel the dried blood congealing slowly on his skin. He lay against the cold stone, waiting for his muscles to cease their trembling before he tried to move. Pain poured through him like scalding water as he pressed his sweat-streaked brow to the cool floor.

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his knees and stayed there, crouched on the flagstones. He raised his head only when the door opened and turned with difficulty, the bitter taste of fear flooding his mouth as he shied away from this new terror.

Ainan, himself, stepped through the doorway. He swept into the room, flanked by two of his own guards, dressed in impeccable dark green velvet. He eyed the horrific lash marks on the elf's back with mild curiosity as Haldir fought against the two guards restraining him but his back gave a particularly violent twinge and he stilled.

"He was gentle then," Ainan remarked. Motioning for the guards flanking him to bring the elf to his feet, the evil tyrant smiled.

"Well, I hope you have reconsidered your position, captain," he voiced the title with gentle irony. "Perhaps you wish to confess yourself now and save yourself a lot of pain?"

His open, taunting grin grated on the elf captain's pride and Haldir straightened his shoulders determinedly with the rigidity that had been drilled into him over his millennia of warrior training. He would not give in so easily. They could break his body but they could not quell his spirit. He met the wicked elf's burning gaze squarely, allowing no hint or flicker of pain to cross his face. Ainan's smile only broadened at this show of defiance.

"No?" He mocked silkily as he turned away. "Perhaps another little dose of pain would change your mind."

Despite his will, Haldir's face drained of color. He did not think he could take another beating so soon. His wounds had only just stopped bleeding! Ainan's cruel chuckle proved that he had guessed the other elf's thoughts. He beckoned to the soldiers gripping Haldir's arms.

"Bring him."

Haldir did not struggle- knowing it was useless and he would only exhaust his waning strength further. They descended deep into the very bowels of the castle, past the silent dungeons towards the cellars. Haldir grew puzzled as he was led towards what appeared to be a storage room. He was thrown to the ground roughly with his wrists once more shackled together. The guards removed themselves as Ainan motioned them away.

Haldir looked around at the walls environing him. It was a plain, stone chamber- only about ten feet wide and half as many across. Placed at intervals around the room were candles in what appeared to be brackets fixed into stands.

Ainan, noticing the other elf's scrutiny, smiled uncaringly as he approached one such round, bowl-shaped lantern in which a candle burned. From his sleeve, he took what looked like a matchstick but longer and no thicker than a needle, with the tip wrapped in stringy, gossamer-like threads. He laid the tip in the fire, inhaling shallowly as it sizzled and gave off a faint smoke and perfume.

"It smells sweet, does it not?" he remarked lightly, walking around the bound elf as he lit at least a dozen tapers and slipping the white coated sticks inside each. "It is a small thing," he continued. "-a wonder for relaxation." Another candle flared as the wick ignited.

Haldir felt a thrill of uneasiness zing through him. Ainan was certainly not doing this for his relaxation and Haldir knew it could be nothing good. As though reading his mind, Ainan spoke.

"It can only be found in the depths of the forest." Ainan turned towards the door, then, almost as an afterthought glanced over his shoulder at his captive. "-though it is not usually supposed to be managed in such large amounts. I don't quite know what it will do. We'll just have to see won't we?" He grinned malignantly, a slender hand on the latch of the door.

"I hope you enjoy it, Haldir. My guards went to a lot of trouble to procure it from the spiders that made it."

The elf's malicious laughter rang hollowly in Haldir's ears as the heavy door banged shut behind him.

The tearing pain in his back and the growing ache in his limbs and neck had long since made him sick. He could no longer feel his hands below the wrists and the tearstains had dried on his face as he stared numbly at the floor, unable to think except about the throbbing pain piercing his entire body. His long golden hair had come loose of his braids and dangled freely, clinging to the dried blood and sweat on his temples.

Legolas thought that at least now his uncle would unshackle him and allow him to go now that he had been sufficiently punished. But as the hours passed, Legolas began to wonder if his uncle was coming back at all though he was thankful for the respite from the pain. He sniffed and shivered in the damp draft against his bare skin. He couldn't remember ever seeing this part of the palace before and as his blue eyes roamed the faintly illuminated room he caught sight of the statuesque figure standing in the corner.

The dark elf had been watching him for some time now. He did not speak a word only stared with those bright, alarming eyes. Legolas kept his own fastened on the floor, not liking the way the other stared as though he were trying to pry into the prince's mind and read the thoughts hidden there.

The uncomfortable silence did not last long however as the door opened once again and Ainan entered, a small satisfied smile on his face. As he drew closer, Legolas noticed a sweet scent clung about him and the prince wrinkled his nose, not liking it one bit.

Ainan paused, gazing into his nephew's pain-hazed eyes.

"Have you had enough, Legolas? I trust you will consider next time before you try to run from me."

The prince nodded as well as he could with the collar stapling him to the stone.

"Yes, Vedhir," he croaked, his voice husky from screaming. Legolas knew his uncle would not be satisfied until he heard an admission.

Ainan stood illuminated by a single candle cupped in his long fingers. For a moment, the elf stood regarding his nephew silently. His golden hair gleamed in the flickering candlelight as the orange glow washed across his hard-planed face, glittering in his silver-blue eyes as sinister as a snake's and unblinking.

"Do you weary of this, nephew? Is your little home away from home not fitting for you?" Ainan mocked softly. "I think I will allow you to return to your dear mother- she misses you terribly you know. But before I do so, you must promise me that you will say nothing of course of our venture here to her."

Legolas looked up with wide eyes hardly able to believe his ears. But still he wondered if this was another one of his uncle's twisted games, a ploy to give him false hope and further shatter his spirit. His head spun with a mixture of quivering relief that threatened to burst him asunder and horrible confusion. He couldn't tell if his uncle was lying or not. Ainan was confusing him now. Why free him?

"What about my friends? What about Lóthmir and Haldir? My father?" he asked tremulously, fearing another beating if his uncle found his questions impertinent but his uncle needed him for something or he surely wouldn't be offering the prince his freedom. Ainan merely smiled.

"I will, of course, release them as well- in good time- when they have paid their dues." This was a lie of course though well hidden. It didn't need to be either; Legolas was so willing to believe him- to be free of this hellish prison he would have believed anything.

Legolas knew something bad was going to happen but he couldn't figure out what his uncle wanted. He was cold and far beyond exhaustion; his back hurt abominably and he just wanted to go home. The thought of seeing his mother again pulled at his aching heart

"Of course if you wish to stay, I can always arrange something," Ainan flicked the ever-present whip at the young prince's face maliciously.

Legolas hurriedly shook his head.

"No, uncle. Please… no more," he whimpered, unable to cope with even the thought of another repetition of last night- not when he still hurt so much. With his eyes closed, Legolas missed the gleam that sparked in his uncle's eyes.

Legolas lifted his head after a moment and opened his eyes, blinking away his tears.

"I promise. I-I want to go home, Vedhir."

"Of course you do." Ainan smiled conciliatingly, enjoying the pitiful longing he saw behind his nephew's eyes. "I will come for you in the morning. Your mother will worry for you tonight," he said quietly. "But do not fear, I shall comfort her until tomorrow."

"Goodnight, tôrion. Mind the rats," he chuckled as he turned away.

Smiling wickedly to himself, Ainan turned his attention to the dark elf watching warily in the shadows.

"Clean him up and see that he does not die on us," he added, handing Tindómëtir the keys. The dark-haired elf nodded, smirking slightly. The golden-haired elf leveled a cool stare at his subordinate.

"And do not touch him. Do you understand?"

Again Tindómëtir bowed his head in obeisance.

The door closed behind his uncle and Legolas trembled slightly. He feared this elf nearly as much if not more than his uncle. The sheer unrestrained violence in the elf's eyes frightened him almost beyond endurance especially in his present condition when he knew he could take no more pain.

And now he was alone with him.

The dark elf gave the young prince a sidelong glance before walking over to a shadowed corner and retrieving white bandages and a bucket of water lying near the wall that the golden-haired prince had not seen until now. Legolas watched him carefully, waiting with tensed muscles and baited breath.

The shocking cold revived the young elf a little and he raised his head, shivering fitfully as the chill air of the cell struck his heated flesh. Water mixed with blood coursed in tiny rivulets down his body and pooled onto the stone floor. Tindómëtir tossed aside the dripping bucket and it thudded on the stone, rolling sluggishly into a corner.

Legolas shook his wet hair out of his face as the dark-haired elf reached up and the locks holding the prince's wrists and neck in their cutting manacles loosened and fell away. Unused to the loss of support, he slumped against the wall, feeling strangely lighter but his wrists were raw and chafed, rubbed red by the horrible chain. His legs shook so badly he could not stand and he buckled to the floor, collapsing limply like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Tindómëtir immediately knelt beside him and began to wash the wounds clean bandaging several of them. They could not afford blood spots on the prince's clothes. Other injuries needed to be stitched and Legolas braced himself as the other elf threaded a needle with catgut. The dark elf was not gentle and Legolas muffled his whimpers and gasps of pain as he sewed up the deeper wounds his uncle had opened in his back.

"Why do you do this?" Legolas asked more to distract himself from the pain than want of receiving any real answer. Tindómëtir tightened the bandage on his arm with a tense jerk. He said nothing. A wisp of his shadowy hair slid over the prince's shoulder as he bent down to look more closely at the younger elf's back in the dim light and Legolas noted a red, circular mark burned into his flesh on the side of his neck- it looked like a weal but smaller. And again that cloying scent clogged his nostrils and made him want to sneeze but with difficulty, he forced it away.

"You believe you are the only one who has suffered."

Legolas started as the elf actually spoke in a raspy voice as though seldom used or continually rough with pain but then his words registered and the prince looked away. But something drew him and he found himself looking up into the dark elf's fathomless eyes.

"You do not know true pain, little one," Tindómëtir whispered softly, looking down at him, his face mask-like and still as the stone walls around them.

This time, Legolas wrenched his gaze away with a gasp as Tindómëtir thoughtfully traced a bloody slash inflicted on the young elf's shoulder blade, ignoring his hiss of pain. He smiled sickeningly as he eyed the blood on his fingertip.

"You scream louder than your father did, Legolas." He laughed chillingly as he rose and once again secured the prince's chafed wrists in their fetters. Legolas craned his neck up and, looking into those eyes, saw what he could become in those burning depths. The dark elf did not flinch from his gaze but twisted away from him, kicking the bucket aside as he slipped out the door.

Legolas watched as the heavy oak portal slammed closed and dragged him back into darkness. The lock scraped into place with a rusty click and the prince's golden head fell between his shoulders as he sobbed unrestrainedly. He felt the heavy darkness around him as though shadows smothered him on all sides, a thick, choking miasma that threatened to suffocate him.

And he began to shake.

Trying to force his thoughts away from his pain and fear of the darkness, he closed his eyes. He was going home tomorrow. His uncle was letting him go home, that's all he had to remember. He would see his mother's smiling face tomorrow and she would hug him and tell him she loved him and…

Legolas suddenly opened his eyes again, despite the darkness that blinded his eyes open or closed. Would she? What if she had learned what had happened to his father, her husband? What if his uncle had told her what had happened- what her son had done? She would think it was all his fault. Legolas' stomach clenched in sudden fear and shame. She would blame him surely…

Legolas cast his head down, allowing his blood matted hair to slide over his shoulders as the tears dripped down his face to mingle with the sweat cooling on his brow, feeling, if possible, far worse than when his uncle had beaten him.

The room slowly drifted in and out of focus- hazy and dreamlike. The walls moved. Haldir coughed and blinked through streaming eyes. How many hours had worn away since he had been locked in this horrible prison? He couldn't be sure anymore. The wispy smoke had crept ever closer to the floor and slowly filled all the room. The sweet scent had long ago sickened his stomach.

Haldir lay flat on the floor with his mouth pressed as close to the door as his manacles would allow him as he tried to figure out what to do. For surely he would die in here if he did not find a way. But thinking had become so very difficult- his thoughts wandered and tripped over themselves, running around in circles until they collapsed into nothingness.

The world seemed to be slowly spinning and Haldir squeezed his eyes shut until the dizziness passed and the floor no longer rocked beneath him like the deck of a ship. Everything seemed so hazy. Haldir weakly tried to push himself closer to the door where fresh air might be pouring in through the chinks between the wood and stone. He tried to reach it but in vain. His arms felt heavy as lead.

As his forehead hit the floor, Haldir wondered idly if this was the way he was supposed to die- trammeled like an animal in a cage, choked to death on another elf's poison. He couldn't give in now! He had to find Legolas! And the King! If he did not escape, the entire palace of Mirkwood would be in jeopardy, Haldir thought desperately as a last attempt to wake himself up.

But even these thoughts faded with his consciousness as the blackness swirled in.

Chapter Text

Haldir jerked into wakefulness as he was rudely brought back to consciousness by the sudden shock of icy water poured over his skin. He sat up abruptly, sputtering and coughing as some of the liquid went down the wrong way. A hand gripped his shoulder and he hissed, remembering the pain, as he pushed it away.

"Haldir! Wake up! It's all right. It's us!"

Haldir wiped the water from his eyes, blinking dazedly.

"Come on. Help me get him on his feet." Strong arms lifted him up and set him on wobbly legs. He wavered for a moment before finding the wall and leaning heavily against it. When his vision finally cleared and the floor stopped shifting beneath him, he looked up.

Rameil and Ancadal were looking at him with no small amount of concern. Through his surprise at their sudden appearance, Haldir tried to piece together his last moments of consciousness. There was still the faint stench of the strange incense in the air.

He looked at his friend's haggard faces who were still staring at him as they waited for him to sort himself out. They both looked unspeakably weary and their faces were grey with fatigue and pain but they were alive and Haldir felt great relief spill through him.

Dragging his gaze away from his friends' concerned faces, he hastily cast a glance about the room, recognizing the vile prison which held the last of his memories. The candles had guttered and the oak door stood wide. Haldir blinked in confusion for a moment.

"How did you find me?" he asked in bewilderment, still recovering from the shock of finding them here. His throat felt raw. Rameil glanced towards the door as though checking to make sure that they would not be overheard. Ancadal cast a sheepish glance at Rameil; there was a glorious bruise puffing up his right eye and dried blood clung to his lip from a bloody nose.

"We looked through every door we could find," the younger elf said, holding up a ring of keys. Haldir frowned in bemusement and shook his head.

"We had to overpower the guard. There was a foul scent upon the air," Rameil sniffed disgustedly. "Someone may have heard the disturbance. We should go." Haldir nodded and tested his weight on his own two legs- relieved to find that they would hold him.

"Commander?" Ancadal asked, his youthful, almost childish face, troubled as he looked up at his superior officer. Haldir took a deep breath, shivering as the chill water continued to run off his shoulders. He brushed his stringy hair out of his eyes as he looked around at his small company.

"As soon as we can, we must find the prince and the King." He shivered again. Rameil noticed and immediately offered his cloak apologetically. How he had managed to keep it, Haldir didn't know for all of his weapons and clothes save his leggings and boots only had been taken from him long ago, probably to be locked up in some storage room.

"Come, sir. We must find you some dry clothes to wear first."

Haldir suddenly realized that he was soaking- with water that no small bucket could have held. He looked at Ancadal.

"Why am I so wet?" he asked lightly, trying to ease the sombre mood a bit.

"That was the third time we'd doused you," Ancadal answered gravely, biting his lip as his white fingers clutched the wooden bucket. Haldir looked away.

"Sir?" Ancadal said softly, gently touching the back of his captain's shoulder. Haldir turned and his eyes fell to the hand the younger elf extended to him.

It was bloody.

"You're hurt."

"As are we all I expect," came the dry rejoinder as Haldir pointedly eyed the younger elf's blackened eye. Ancadal grinned and touched it delicately, wincing only slightly as Haldir shrugged off the concerned glance Rameil gave him. "'Tis a small flesh wound. Nothing more."

Rameil looked skeptical.

"A flesh wound?" The elven soldier's tone left his captain in no doubt of what his opinion on the matter was. Haldir's head snapped around, a wave of irritation flooding through him. They were wasting time with this pointless chittering!

"Yes! A flesh wound! It is unimportant. I do hope you have something more to be concerned for." Confused and slightly alarmed at the fire that crackled behind his commander's eyes, Rameil nodded with bowed head. Haldir sighed, seeing that his friend was worried and abashed. He shook his head in self-reproach.

"I am sorry, Rameil," he said softly. "I-"

"It's all right," the other elf assured him, smiling slightly. "But let me have a look at it won't you, sir? Even if it is just a 'small flesh wound?'" Haldir nodded, having no such intention.

"We've got to get out of here first," Ancadal put in practically, motioning for silence. Haldir shook his head.

"You two go. I have to find Legolas," he said in a low voice

"Sir, that is impossible- it's a labyrinth down here. We wouldn't know where to look and the longer we stay, the greater the chance of our discovery," insisted Rameil immediately.

Even as he spoke they suddenly stiffened at the sound of footsteps hurrying down the corridor. They moved to either side of the doorway, keeping out of sight for as long as they could but the soldier had seen the open door and rushed towards it without thinking. He was armed. They were not. But they were also three.

And he was one.

Rameil was on him in an instant, kicking his legs out from under him and pinning him to the floor while Ancadal relieved him of his weapon. Haldir stared, realizing he recognized this youth.

It was the young guard that had whipped him. The soldier blenched as he tried to throw off Rameil's hold but Ancadal pressing his own blade to his throat soon ceased his movements.

"Where is your master?" the dark-haired elf demanded.

"I don't know."

The blade pressed in deeper and he winced, trying to lift his head back further. But his eyes were steady and unafraid as he gazed up at his former prisoners.

"I will not betray him."

Haldir moved the sword edge aside with a reprimanding glance at Ancadal.

"Let him go, Rameil."

Startled, the Rivendell elf did as asked, relinquishing his hold on the guard so he could get to his feet. He rubbed his neck with a surprised and extremely wary glance at all of them. Haldir stepped forward, redirecting his attention.

"Whatever Ainan has told you, it is a lie. We are no more traitors than you are." He took the sword from Ancadal and handed it back hilt-first to its owner.

"There. You are armed. We are not. You can easily kill all three of us if that is your desire."

Rameil shot a sharp look at his commander, wondering what in Middle-Earth he was thinking. What if the guard did just that?

The soldier stared at him in disbelief then abruptly sheathed his blade with a shake of his head.

"I am no murderer. But I cannot allow you to go free."

Haldir stepped forward, his hands spread in a placating manner as the guard jumped and grasped at his sword hilt. But the Lórien commander's eyes reflected only sorrow and pain.

"You know what Ainan has done to the kingdom. It is crumbling around you. Entire families are missing. Elves have been slain within these halls- you know this," Haldir said darkly. "You know what he has done."

The young guard shook his head in the face of the other's words as though longing to block them out. For the first time, his face held a look of anguish.

"You have no idea how powerful he is." He paused and a look of pain passed across his face. "He said he would kill my family if I did not obey him."

"We will not let that happen," Haldir swore vehemently. "We are going to stop him but we need to find him first- or the prince: have you seen him?"

The guard shook his head hopelessly.

"The forest will fall into shadow. There is no hope left."

Rameil seized the young guard by the shoulder and shook him.

"If I believed that, I would not be alive. You must trust us and help us- Ainan is not all-powerful and we can stop him but he must not know of our escape for as long as possible, do you understand me?"

Dumbly, the guard nodded, his face white as parchment but he straightened himself and brushed a hand across his eyes.

"I will do what I can- though it will not be much." He took his hand away from his face and cast a beseeching glance at them. "Can-can you do something for me?"

Haldir nodded.

"My wife's name is Brethiel; will- will you tell her I did my best? That I love her?" he asked desperately, his eyes looking pleadingly up into the elf captain's. Haldir laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You have my word."

The guard nodded slowly and stepped back. Quickly, he told them how to get out of the dungeons, looking as though he were steeling himself against some inner storm of irresoluteness. The three elves thanked him and made their way down the dingy corridor, their eyes trained and ears straining for any sound or sight of anything. But there was utter silence.

That was even more unnerving.

It was very dark and the lighted lamps were few and soon faded into darkness. For what seemed an immeasurable time, they groped along the walls in pitch blackness. Haldir felt his way as though he had been stricken sightless, hearing only the soft breathing of his companions behind him. With his arms fully outstretched like a blind man, he could brush the walls on either side with his fingertips. Suddenly, his right hand met open air and he felt a chill, damp air against his cheek.

Water rushed softly away on their far right but little else could be seen or heard as they moved on, cautiously, conscious of the vastness of the open space and the danger of unseen enemies. They clung close to the wall which continued to run on their left.

Haldir moved gingerly, listening intently for anything that would tell him where they are. A little ways ahead and above his eyelevel, a small red light gleamed. He made towards it, nearly stumbling over the first of a shallow flight of broad stairs. The light grew closer and Haldir realized it was a lamp, hanging limply from a bracket in the wall. He stepped up onto the landing, gazing up and down the corridor as Rameil and Ancadal came up beside him.

The dark-haired elf squinted against the suddenly bright glow of the lantern, glancing back into the darkness behind them but Ancadal's attention was focused on the doors laid at intervals on either side of the long hall. A narrow barred slit served as a window at eyelevel in each door

"More cells."

Haldir moved forward, nearer to the lantern which cast flickering shadows along the paved way and peered into the first cell on their right. There was a clink as though of chains from within the darkness and a thin shape moved forward, pressing himself as close to the bars as his manacles allowed. He looked thin and bedraggled in the pale light. Haldir could count every rib under the white skin.

"You are not one of them," the prisoner said, staring at their disheveled and haggard appearances. "Have you come to help us?" he asked, a glint of hope kindling in his eyes. "Did Legolas send you?"

"Be silent, Tirien," another, hoarse voice snapped out of the darkness on the left of the three elves. "They have no weapons and no great numbers. More than likely they are Ainan's rats sent down here to see if we will break for one of our own. They are traitors- what good can come of speaking to them but another beating?"

"You know nothing, Edraien. Why would they be so injured then if they were sent to test us?" Tirien responded back with much more equity as he glanced with compassion at the pain etched into the three elves' faces. "Ainan. He is nothing but lies."

"You have seen Legolas?" Haldir interrupted eagerly, ignoring the opposite prisoner's scornful snort.

Tirien hesitated a moment, searching Haldir's face carefully.

'I did. I cannot remember how long ago… I have not seen him for several days at least… Is he in danger?" he asked, catching the flicker of disappointment that flashed across Haldir's face.

"Ainan has taken him."

Tirien's eyes darkened and a greyness came upon his face as though his last hope had gone with those words. "I warned him," he murmured, laying his forehead against the bars with a deep sigh as he closed his eyes.

Haldir dearly wished he had some hope to give the disheartened soldier. But theirs was a desperate mission as well without hope of success. He didn't know how they could escape this labyrinth without being seized again and he was beginning to feel oddly dizzy which made it difficult to think. Rameil's voice snapped him back into awareness.

"Well, twice blessed is hope un-looked for," he said briskly, pushing the ring of keys they had used to free themselves with through the narrow cells bars. "Do what you can with these."

The elf stooped and snatched them up quickly as though fearing they would sink through the floor, his gaunt face flooding with gratitude.

"May Elbereth guide your path, my friends. I do not think we shall meet again before the end- whenever that is granted," Tirien said gravely, bowing his head with his hand to his breast.

With darkening hearts, Haldir and his companions returned the gesture before hastening onward. Already they felt that time was growing short though they knew not what drove them. The silence still pressed against their ears but there was an urgency, a wariness in it and the lamps like winking eyes watched all.

Stopping for a moment to regain his breath which he felt should not have been so short, Haldir glanced over his two friends, noting how they looked almost ghostly in the flickering torchlight.

"Are you both all right?" he asked, slightly ashamed that he hadn't asked earlier.

Rameil smiled mirthlessly as his keen eyes scanned the chamber they had just entered.

"As all right as you are," he said with rare good humor.

Haldir ignored the gentle jibe, his brow furrowed as he thought of something that had been bothering him since they'd left his cell.

"How did you get free?" he inquired, still scarcely able to believe that they had made it out of the dungeons alive though he knew they not safe yet by far. Rameil shook his head bewilderingly.

"A-a messenger came to me- freed me of my chains. She said that others would be waiting for us if we managed to escape."

"Where?" Haldir asked immediately. Rameil shook his head.

"She did not say- she said they would find us."

"We cannot depend on that," Haldir said, clutching the cloak which had nearly slipped from his shoulders, tighter about his form. He had gotten his friends into this mess and his guilt ate relentlessly at him as he feverishly tried to think of a way to get them out.

That proved more difficult than even thinking of it. Akin to the clandestine labyrinths of long-lost Menegroth, the palace of Mirkwood was a veritable warren of twisting passages and long winding staircases. Endless tunnels where strangers could wander for decades before finding the front gate. They paused at a crossroads where two hallways intersected. One continued to run on straight the other careened up a flight of stairs on the left and plunged lower down on the right.

The passage they faced was beginning to widen and tall carven figures of marble stood as silent sentinels, their empty eyes watched the passage. But they were comfortless and cold, ancient and dusty. They had not been cared for and had fallen into ruin in the damp and darkness down here. There weren't even torches to light the way and the lamps they did find, hanging at intervals along the walls looked newly placed. The walls, plain and discolored with age, moldy with the damp of the river weren't even blackened with smoke.

"We should arm ourselves and tend our wounds," Rameil suggested, leaning wearily against one of the statues for a moment as they rested. He looked rather pale and his eyes carefully veiled the pain in his body.

There was no way Haldir would go on before finding Legolas- but he saw the wisdom in his friend's words. If he hoped to free Legolas, he would need to at least arm himself first.

"We cannot linger here," he said, laying a hand on Rameil's shoulder, his anxiety for both of them showing plainly in his eyes. The dark-haired elf shrugged him off with a wry grin.

They turned left and stepped lightly up the broad stone stairs. Slowly, their surroundings became steadily familiar and more open, lighter; the air did not feel so chill here. Their hearts lifted. As they grew closer to the surface, the light and beauty of the elves returned around them. Richly woven tapestries adorned the walls and the statues were clean and polished, their marble eyes glittering in bright torchlight.

The three escapees glided soundlessly down the passage, every fiber in their bodies tensed, listening intently for the slightest noise. But the corridors around them were still empty and still soundless. It was as though everyone in the palace had died and they were but the ghosts stirring up the gloomy shadows in the dust.

Up another staircase, narrower and deeply cloven, a door stood- the last before they finally reached the upper levels of the palace. Unsettled by the unyielding quiet, Haldir thought that at least Ainan would have sent soldiers looking for them or maybe it was a trap, luring them into a false sense of security. Or perhaps, the young guard had been faithful and he didn't know yet.

Haldir dearly hoped it was the latter.

But that hope died as he peered through the crack between frame and door only to snatch it back quickly again as he spotted the two figures robed in the green of the woodland king marching just beyond it.

There were two of them who looked as though they were readying themselves for relief. They paced before the doorway slowly, carefully watching the corners and speaking in low tones. It was the only way out of the lower realms of the palace.

Haldir turned to his friends in the faint light from a guttering torch a little ways down the hall. He held up two fingers and Rameil and Ancadal both nodded to show they understood and readied themselves. Haldir shrugged out of his cloak knowing that the garment would only impede him now. He waited a moment longer to make sure the guards were right before the door before he hurled himself against it, ignoring the burst of pain in his shoulder as it connected solidly with the wood.

The door exploded open and smashed into the two guards, knocking one over completely and striking the other in the shoulder, spinning him almost all the way around. The three elves burst out of the doorway, throwing themselves upon the surprised elves before they had a chance to recover. Rameil and Ancadal quickly pinned the downed guard, relieving him of his weapons before he even had a chance to rise.

Haldir saw a flash of steel and quickly threw himself aside as a sword blade whistled over his head. The other guard was not down yet and he, though shocked, was quickly collecting himself as he lunged forward. Haldir dodged the edge of the blade again, narrowly. His wounds protested his quick movement but he disregarded them as he danced aside, trying to avoid being spitted.

Spinning in too close for the other to use his long blade, he fisted his hand in the guard's stomach, doubling him over with a grunt. Striking the inside of his sword wrist sharply, Haldir made him drop his blade with a muffled cry and with another blow to his temple had stunned him. Snatching the sword up from where it had fallen, Haldir leveled it at the guard's throat, chancing a backward glance at his companions who already had the other guard on his back, unconscious.

Rameil was glancing at one of the guard's swords with interest while Ancadal looked nervously up and down the hall. Their impromptu battle had sounded like a herd of oliphaunts. There was no way they were going to be able to keep the secret of their escape now.

Haldir stooped and unsheathed a long knife from the downed guard's boot, taking his belt as well to gird it about his waist. Rameil and Ancadal followed his example, taking the sword and bow and quiver the other guard had worn.

As an afterthought, Haldir slid the tunic from the taller guard's person and slipped it over his own shoulders; it was a little longer in the sleeves but it was better at any rate than running about the palace half-clothed. The guards were beginning to stir feebly on the ground as Rameil and Ancadal strapped their borrowed weapons to their sides.

"Tolo (Come on)," Haldir bade them, loosening the long knife in its sheath as he looked towards the far eastern door that yawned up on their right. They passed through the archway and broke into a sharp run, racing as fast as they dared now that the passage was well-lighted and stretched empty before them, occasionally branching off into dark paths on either side of them but they stayed on the main one coursing through the heart of the palace.

Suddenly, Haldir stopped abruptly, gazing through one of the doorways which led into a grand hall which looked like the throne room. Rameil and Ancadal pulled up sharply as they realized their commander was not following.

"Man cenich? (What do you see?)" Ancadal hissed but Haldir hushed him, nodding at the doorway. His brow furrowed in puzzlement, Ancadal followed his gaze and muffled a gasp of surprise and sudden panic. He recognized Ainan's lieutenant, the tall, thin Noldorin elf with the wild eyes. The dark elf stood beside a young woman, cloaked and hooded, conversing in low tones.

The woman's eyes flickered past the dark elf and suddenly fixed on Haldir's. Her face flickered once with surprise but she mastered herself quickly and turned back to her companion. But Tindómëtir had caught her gaze and glanced over his shoulder.

Haldir swiftly pulled his head back around the corner, stiffening and readying his knife in his sheath. But when he cautiously glanced back, the young woman had her arm looped through the dark elf's and was leading him away from their hiding place. Puzzlement rushed through him but he had no time to wonder for at that moment, there was a rush as though of wind and one of the soldiers that they had fought in the halls came rushing through the eastern door across from them, breathing heavily with blood running from a cut above his brow.

"The Lórien prisoners have escaped, sir!"

"What?" Tindómëtir's face blackened with fury and the guard quailed before him, taking a small step back. "Where are they?"

"We- we lost them in the halls, sir," he stammered in reply, wiping away the blood that was beginning to trickle into his eyes.

"Show me."

The guard nodded briskly and turned on his heel, leading the dark elf back out the eastern door.

The woman remained, staring after them for a long moment. Then without hesitation, she walked straight towards them.

Before they could even think of fleeing, she was beside them, looking up into their pale faces.

"I am the messenger. I have been sent to find you."

"You are Ainan's creature. Why should we trust you?" Haldir asked, his eyes darkened with suspicion.

"You think Ainan is the only one capable of deception?" she asked silkily, her eyes snapping with green fire. "I hate him more than you. He ripped my family apart." Her voice was thick with bitterness and anger. She shook her head as though to clear it of troublesome thoughts and turned her attention back to him.

"I can take you to a place of safety but we must go now. Every moment we waste is precious time lost- they will be back soon."

"How do we know that we can trust you?"

"I'm not asking you to trust me. But you will do better with me as a guide than blundering about by yourselves and risk capture again," she retorted saucily.

The three elves exchanged a silent look. Rameil wordlessly shook his head, eyeing the woman with deep mistrust. Ancadal looked torn between wanting to believe her and not. Haldir himself felt his thoughts spiraling.

"You three, if I'm not mistaken, will need food- and perhaps other things," she said, looking knowingly up at their wan faces. A strand of her hair gleamed like fire in the flickering torchlight.

Haldir raked a hand through his sweat-drenched hair uncertainly. They could not stay here vacillating like this for long- Tindómëtir would return and with him, the guards. But his head was throbbing worse than ever, making it difficult to think. He pushed his pain as far to the back of his mind as he possibly could and scrutinized the young maid before him. He could sense the anger radiating off of her in nearly palpable waves but somehow he knew that it was not directed at them.

She was the closest thing to an ally they had a chance of meeting and without her they would almost certainly wander lost in these halls until by sheer chance they found the gate or were found. And even if they did find the gate? What then? They had no horses, no food or water, were weary and wounded. They could not expect to get far. They needed help.

Haldir stared hard at the woman for a moment longer then slowly nodded his acquiescence. She nodded once in reply then, pulling her hood closer about her face, she turned and began to walk briskly through the great hall, glancing furtively this way and that before leading them onward.

Haldir turned to follow and suddenly stumbled, a sudden nauseating dizziness attacking him with a vengeance. His brow furrowed as a sharp pain lanced through his head as he shook his head to try to clear it of the ominous black dots. What had that foul poison done to him?

Rameil darted forward and grabbed his commander's arm as he faltered. The back under his hand was heaving and drenched in sweat- or blood, he couldn't quite tell and it frightened him.

"Haldir…"

The woman stopped, wondering at their slackened pace.

"You do not look well," she told him bluntly, narrowing her eyes at Haldir's ashen face.

"I knew it," Rameil said, a reproachful light flashing in his eyes. "Sir, you must rest." Haldir shook himself from his friend's clasp, determinedly straightening his aching shoulders.

"Will you rest knowing the peril we are in?" Haldir countered, staring hard at the dark-haired elf. Rameil sighed deeply, lowering his eyes.

"No."

"Then how can you ask it of me?"

To that the dark-haired elf answered not.

Relieved when Rameil did not press him, Haldir walked towards the woman then wavered again, bringing a hand to his head. The Rivendell elf caught him by the arm, his brow furrowing in consternation. Haldir determinedly shook him off again but the dark-haired elf continued to watch him carefully until Haldir, fed up with his scrutiny, shot him a reproving glare.

"I'm all right, Rameil. Stop looking at me like that."

"Haldir, you are most certainly not! You nearly collapsed in my arms just now!"

Haldir just shook his head and turned away but Rameil would not be ignored and grasped his arm boldly. The elf captain stared sternly down into his friend's eyes but Rameil did not back down, his gaze concerned and pleading.

"What did he do to you, mellon-nin?"

Ancadal glanced between them anxiously, wondering what was going on. Haldir sighed deeply but made no answer and was thankfully spared by the young woman who had stiffened her eyes wide.

"Come on. We must hurry- it's not far," she reassured them and without another word rushed out of the hall and up a long flight of stone stairs with they following behind as fast as they could.

Chapter Text

Amber candlelight spilled onto the polished surfaces of dark mahogany, dripping crimson wax like blood down the slender stick. The wavering light cast unsteady shadows on the walls, paling with the coming of dawn.

Ainan glanced around at those gathered around him. His most trusted captains- every one of them. Eraeriel stood nearby, wary and watchful, her dark eyes regarding the proceedings with a disquieted gaze.

"There are those who are still loyal to King Thranduil," Kirar was saying, shifting nervously. He looked very much out of place among these grim-faced, bloody-handed elves and his unsteady gaze did not reflect the conviction in theirs.

The kingdom was tearing itself in two, choosing sides: with those still faithful to their former king and his family and those who, by fear or fanaticism, flocked to the usurper's banner. Rumors had distorted the truth and now even those who lived on the fringes of the palace spoke with betrayal and murder on their lips- though of course none dared accuse Ainan openly (within his hearing at least.)

A lingering darkness hung like a wrack of clouds over the once bright palace.

"The preparations have been made, my lord," the elf standing beside Kirar interjected, his eyes hard and glance steady.

"Have they arrived?" Ainan asked, looking up for the first time. The soldier nodded obediently.

"They await you in the courtyard."

With all of the former guards locked away in the dungeons, Ainan had needed to replenish his own garrison with his allies- the last remnant of his own people of former Southern Mirkwood who had come up the river last night.

Ainan looked up as the door opened noiselessly and Tindómëtir slunk into the room, taking his place beside Eraeriel and standing silent with head bowed.

He felt a thrill of unease run up his spine that he could not explain and immediately commanded his captains to leave him; they had their orders.

When they had gone, Ainan gave his back to his servant, gliding over to a smooth wooden box that rested on the long table. Unlatching it, he gave a little sigh of pleasure and lifted from its blue velvet resting place, a silver circlet gleaming in the pale flames of candlelight. He smiled privately to himself as he set it upon his forehead, the green jewel gracing its centre flashing in the red light of dawn that seeped through the rich drawn back curtains.

The crown of a true King.

And yet, some still contested his claim to the throne. Yes, he was the Queen's brother and the right was his by blood. But there was also the Queen's child to consider. By right, the kingship belonged to the King's son, his heir. And the thought made Ainan seethe with fury.

But soon it would not matter.

"Have you discovered where my dear sister is keeping herself these days?" he asked casually, adjusting the circlet so that it fit smoothly over his brow.

"Not yet, hir-nin (my lord)." Tindómëtir answered sullenly as though he could care less what the Queen was doing. He shifted slightly and Ainan cut a glance at him in irritation.

"What is it?" he demanded, fixing a heavy glare on his subordinate.

The dark elf's eyes darted for an instant only to the woman in the corner.

With an imperious gesture, Ainan bade her leave them and she curtsied obediently and quit the room, her baleful eyes resting a venomous moment on the thin dark elf before whisking away in a sweep of glittering gems and midnight colored silk.

Ainan stared hard at Tindómëtir who still stood with his head down as though in thought or fear until he was sure the woman had gone.

"Speak," Ainan snapped impatiently, finally breaking the thick silence that had swathed them like a pall in its smothering embrace.

"The Lothlórien prisoners have escaped, sir."

Ainan's silver-blue eyes blazed with an angry fire.

"What?" he hissed. When the dark elf did not answer, his master stalked towards him furiously and seized him roughly by the chin, forcing his head up.

"What have you done, you fool!" he snarled, shaking him angrily. "If they get free and find others to aid them- we will have a rebellion on our hands. It will mean the ruination of all of our plans! Our hard-won sacrifice! And if by chance they win through and the King is rescued, what then?" His eyes held a near-frantic look as he shook his servant's shoulder hard. "They will have us butchered like orcs, do you understand me?"

He shoved him brusquely backwards towards the door. "I want them found, Tindómëtir. Immediately!"

Stumbling, the dark elf caught himself against the doorframe and his eyes glittered under hooded lids but he bowed his head in obedience to his lord's will.

"It shall be as you say, hir-nin (my lord)."

Breathing quickly, Ainan did not dare turn his back on him, but his eyes darted nervously around the room as though he expected to see the grey-clad figures of vengeful elves watching him from the yet unlighted corners of the chamber. He wrung his hands for a moment of agitation then a small smile upturned the corners of his lips as he calmly lifted the crown from his head and locked it away again.

"I think it is time to pay my nephew a visit."

Sunlight did not sully her fair hand reaching into the deepest caverns of the elves. Nothing but Endless Night, unceasing darkness. He had been trapped in it for so long. Legolas bowed his pounding head, the clink of his chains the only noise in his cell. The night had seemed unending and left alone with his spiraling thoughts, the prince feared he would go mad. He longed for a breath of clean, fresh air, the sight of trickling water, of the sun, of anything other than the darkness and the damp, dank, grey walls of his prison.

He could no longer feel the pain of his back anymore, retreating so deeply inside himself, he could only feel the pain in his heart. His thoughts had funneled slowly down into black nothingness. There was nothing more to think about. He would die here. He was hungry, thirsty, and he missed his mother but he had given up hope of ever seeing her again and even if he did, she would not love him for what he deemed his treasonous behavior that had led to her suffering. His father was surely dead by now, Lóthmir, Haldir… all of them.

After so long a time in the dark silence, Legolas started when he heard the muffled sound of a bar being raised and a latch sliding neatly back. He raised his white face to the torchlight, blinking like an owl in the harsh orange glow that flooded into his cell as though to fill it and chase away all shadows.

But the light dimmed quickly as Legolas caught sight of his uncle's face in the radiance. He lowered his head in submission. He didn't care what his uncle did to him anymore. He had nothing left.

"Well, Legolas, I promised you and I always keep my promises," Ainan said with an ironic smile as he looked down at the young elf's face, slightly surprised at the listless look the prince gave him in return. Ainan's face darkened, mistaking that indifferent gaze for defiance behind his nephew's blue eyes.

"Heed me, Legolas." He waited until he had his full attention. "Your father lives still. But I can quickly change that and should you attempt to betray me there will be no end to his suffering- or yours. You think you have suffered thus far? You do not know true torment yet," Ainan warned, dark promise in his silver-blue eyes as he unshackled the prince from the wall.

And Legolas believed him though the feeling felt dim somehow as though he felt only the shadow of the emotion. He had felt too much in the last few days and had pulled back all of his inner senses, stashing them as deep inside himself as he possibly could.

Wobbling on unsteady legs, he leant against the wall for a moment, shooting an uneasy glance up at his uncle who stood still and silent, staring down at him.

Ainan could afford to be indulgent.

Moving forward, he wrapped a companionable arm around his nephew's shoulder, blithely ignoring Legolas' muffled gasp of pain as he laid his hand on still-tender wounds. He steered the young prince past the cell door and up to the familiar tunnels of the elves.

"Go on, now, tôrion. Fly to your mother and bring her my love," he smiled cruelly with a careless wave as though they had reverted to their old instruction and he was releasing Legolas to join his friends at play.

Legolas paused for a torn instant, still expecting to be snatched away and dragged back to his cell in cruel torment. But they did nothing and for some reason that made the prince even more uneasy. His uncle stared at him as a barn cat does a mouse it is letting retreat for the sole purpose of seizing it by the throat when it turns its back.

Without pausing to think about it any longer, Legolas spun around and ran for dear life, ignoring the sharp pain that sprang through the disused muscles of his legs.

"My lord, do you think this wise?" Tindómëtir asked quietly, eyeing the prince's rapidly retreating back. Ainan smiled slightly to himself as he cast a sideways glance at his subordinate.

"Fool," he tutted chidingly. "You know so little of what goes on around you. Surely you do not think I would leave my innocent and very naïve nephew out there all alone in a dangerous world?" His grin broadened. "He will try to find his mother- and that is exactly what I guessed he would do. Then we shall strike hard and fast against her upstart rebellion! And I will have rule over the entire forest as it always should have been." His silver-blue eyes gleamed red in the torchlight as he turned them on the dark elf at his side.

"You will follow him, of course. Naturally, he will seek out those who will help him- his mother… and others. And, if he seeks any other…" He lifted a hand, presenting it to the dark elf. On his upturned palm, a long knife glittered coldly in the orange flame-light.

"Kill them."

His breath hissed through his teeth and Haldir closed his eyes as she tugged the bandage tighter about his midsection.

"You're lucky these weren't any deeper or they would have cut more than your skin," the woman said lightly, who seemed to have some skill in healing as she cleaned and bound their wounds.

Ancadal scratched at his own bandages as he perched lightly on a barrel, glancing about their current hideaway.

Their enigmatic guide had led them a merry dance before they came to this place. It seemed to be an unused storeroom of sorts, hidden deeply within the bowels of the palace where she assured them that none would find them. Four stone walls and a single, sturdy wooden door with neither lock nor bar, a dim lantern that swung overhead made and a few scattered barrels- most of them empty- made up the sparse chamber.

Their guide was silent. She had not even told them her name and when asked, refused to speak. She had left them for a short while and returned laden with loaves of bread and a pitcher of water, bandages and blankets which were gratefully accepted by all three. It seemed forever since they had tasted a drop or morsel and their wounds badly needed tending. Now they sat or stood somewhat comfortably, eating their fare and deciding what they would do next for they could not stay even here for long.

"You have helped us thus far and have not led us astray nor betrayed us to our enemies," Haldir said quietly, looking at their guide as she wiped her bloody hands on her cloak. "Now, I entrust this to you: take our message to the Queen. Alert her of our freedom and desire to aid her as we can. We need a safe place to meet…"

"I will do what I can," The woman assured him, wrapping her long cloak about her once more, muffling her vibrant hair. "I will knock thrice so you that I have returned." With that, she disappeared with the silence of a wraith.

When she had gone, Haldir sighed and took a seat on an upturned barrel, leaning his head back against the wall. The cool stone felt good against his aching head.

All they had to do now was wait.

Still, he shifted uncomfortably on his hard seat, uneasy in his mind as he faced the door, half-expecting Tindómëtir and half a dozen soldiers to come bursting through it at any moment. However, a sharp pain behind his eyes distracted him from his vigil at the door.

The lashes on his back had been bound with little trouble and they barely stung at all anymore but another more alarming ache from within worried him considerably. That foul mist had done something to him but he had no idea how to treat it or what it would do. And he didn't have time to think of himself right now anyway with Legolas' as well as all of their lives, at stake.

Haldir let his head fall into his hand as he rubbed at his brow. The pain was growing and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to catch his breath. So difficult, he feared for a moment that he had stopped breathing altogether but he couldn't seem to bring his mind to focus on that small fact.

He hadn't even realized he had fallen to the floor until he felt an arm sliding under his back, lifting him into a sitting position. He blinked thickly, his thoughts disjointed and muddled as he looked into Ancadal's shocked eyes.

"Easy, sir. You fell rather hard."

Haldir felt the tips of his ears burn with shame and he winced at the headache he felt gathering behind his eyes as a stabbing sensation knifed through his right temple from where it had struck the stone. Unconsciously, he leaned back against his friend's shoulder as he felt the floor jolt under him like the deck of a ship.

"I-I wish Cálivien was here," he whispered, only half-paying attention to what he was actually saying. A wave of dread passed through the younger elf as Ancadal swallowed hard, fearing that he would lose yet another friend.

"So do I," he murmured too quietly for the other to hear. Haldir was too far gone to hear him anyway.

"What's wrong with him?" Rameil's concerned voice broke the spellbinding horror that held the younger elf in thrall. Ancadal blinked and shook his head, looking down at his friend cradled in his arms.

"I don't know."

Rameil rose from his seat and knelt beside his two friends, touching Haldir's shoulder, gently trying to rouse him from whatever dream he had fallen into.

To their mingled relief and concern, Haldir jerked out of Ancadal's arms as though scalded, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. He realized with a pang of self-consciousness that they were both staring at him, twin looks of concern and fear on their faces. Forcing aside the sickness with pure strength of will, Haldir heaved himself up and reseated himself shakily on the barrel.

"Are you all right?" Rameil asked, the concern clearly written on his narrow features. Haldir nodded absently, swaying for a moment before regaining his bearings.

He was not broken yet.

Ancadal held his shoulder to make sure he was steady before stepping back. Haldir flashed him an evanescent grin.

"I'm all right," he said calmly, trying to reassure him.

The younger elf still looked very doubtful and hesitated a moment longer, appraising him steadily until Haldir gave him a playful shove.

"Go on both of you! You fuss more than mother hens," he laughed. But even to his ears it sounded forced.

He wanted nothing more at that moment than to go home with a wish- disappear from this nightmare and sleep until he forgot it. But he could not. He could not abandon them to this now. Not when Legolas' fate was still uncertain. Not while there was still a chance that he might be alive.

Haldir rubbed a hand across his eyes. They wouldn't even be in this mess had he been smart enough to realize that Legolas needed help. He should never have left him! Now, the prince was in his uncle's hands suffering what torment he could not imagine! The knowledge that Legolas could be nearby but so far out of reach, cold and in pain made him tremble with anger and sorrow. He had left his friend when he needed him most. He should have tried to find him rather than skulking here, pitying himself.

But reflecting on what-if's and should have's would get him nowhere.

Ancadal, anxious and puzzled, by his friend's prolonged silence, examined his face with a careful eye. Something had happened while they had been imprisoned- something Haldir had kept to himself, Ancadal could see it in his face. But his wounds had been tended and were not life-threatening. It was something else. But what? Grief and sorrow lay deeply etched in Haldir's face and it tore at the younger elf's heart to see him so.

"What's wrong?"

Haldir sighed and simply shook his head.

"Nothing. I told you I am fine," he said, trying not to flinch as a fresh wave of pain throbbed just behind his eyes.

"And I'm telling you, you're a deplorable liar," Ancadal rejoined, staring up at his friend with increasing anxiety. He knelt solemnly at his side, looking oddly young and shy as he laid a hand on his elder's knee.

"We have already lost Cálivien. Rameil and I cannot lose you too."

Haldir looked down into his friend's face and saw there such concern, such loyalty, such faith, it lifted his spirits a little. He laid a hand on the other elf's forearm, raising him to his feet and standing beside him. He flashed a small fleeting smile.

"You will not lose me, mellon-nin (my friend)."

Ancadal examined him for another long moment before dropping his gaze with a sigh. He rubbed his blackened eye with a grimace, stifling a yawn. Haldir smiled at him and slapped his shoulder fondly.

"Take your rest. We'll have need of our strength soon," Haldir said, motioning the younger elf away.

Ancadal nodded wearily; he didn't have the strength left in him to argue anymore. Wordlessly he dragged a coarse empty sack that had once held flour and now served as good a mattress as they were likely to find over to the wall and settled a guard's cloak over his shoulders as he lay down next to his friend. Almost immediately, he lifted his head again.

"Let me know if you have need of anything," He said and would not lie down again until Haldir had nodded his consent.

He waited until the young elf's breathing beside him deepened and his eyes unfocused in hopefully pleasant dreams. Swiftly, he glanced to the other side of the room. He could not tell if Rameil was asleep or not for the dark-haired elf's back was to him but he lay still and did not move.

Rising stiffly from his seat, he paused for an instant, making sure he had his bearings. The pain in his head had receded a little but he could not wait for it to fade completely- he had to find Legolas and he could not rest not knowing if he was already too late. He had never been good at waiting. The young woman had not returned yet but his friends were safe here, for now. He could leave them and be back with Legolas in no time. He hoped.

But they would not be happy with him. Haldir glanced back at his sleeping friends with a sad smile and prayed that they would forgive him. And that he would live to see them again.

Silently, he donned his borrowed guard's tunic again, rolling back his sleeves to free his hands and slipped out into the corridor.

The crisp air flowing through the open passage revived him a little, cleared his lungs. Haldir felt a little better though his stomach was tying itself in knots and his heart pounded loudly in his ears as he paced the corridors. He paused outside the Great Hall, a cavernous empty room of high-reaching green veined pillars and a vaulted ceiling which peered into the living world through a small hole cut into it. White clouds scudded across the sky and he could just glimpse a gleam of sunshine on the white marble.

The tall throne at the top of the broad dais stood empty.

Fighting down a disconcerting sense of premonition, Haldir moved on. He did not know what had happened to the King but he prayed, for all their sakes that Thranduil had not yet found his way to Mandos' Halls.

He flitted through the passages as silently as a ghost, passing un-remarked through the vacant corridors. He pulled his borrowed hood low over his eyes and kept his head bent, looking like every other soldier in the Mirkwood garrison- or so he hoped.

And it was well that he did so. In the short hours since their escape, word had spread and soldiers armed and girded with long swords stalked every hall, searching, watching keen-eyed and grim. Haldir walked among them as easily as he could with his heart pounding like a jackhammer. One even approached him with a grin and a familiar greeting, recognizing perhaps the insignia embroidered on his left breast. Haldir gave him a suitably vague reply and the elf thankfully did not linger.

Walking along the landing of the second floor above the Great Hall, Haldir searched desperately for a way to get back down to the dungeons- he knew that was where Ainan would have hidden Legolas but this palace confounded him! So many tunnels- all similar save for the types of tapestries adorning the walls- twisting and twining passages: so unlike to the smooth straight paths of his homeland. He knew the longer he stayed out here, the greater his risk. He had to find Legolas soon.

He stopped at the top of a long flight of stairs, staring down the breadth of them for any sign of movement.

At first, he didn't think there was any save for a few flickering shadows cast by the dripping yellow candles stuck in the long stemmed candelabras standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Then one of those shadows moved.

His heart tripped as he stood transfixed upon the landing as though he had suddenly become one of the statues that flanked him. He gazed down the sweeping staircase at the lithe, golden-haired form passing swiftly below him, darting from pillar to pillar as though praying not to be seen.

There was only one he knew that had such hair. And his keen eyes finally caught sight of that familiar face in a flash of candlelight.

"Legolas," Haldir breathed, leaping down the stairs three at a time before he lost sight of the prince. He could hardly believe his eyes and wondered a moment if this might be some deception of the poison in his system or a phantasm of his own troubled thoughts.

But the shade slipped behind one of the large columns and vanished almost immediately. Haldir rounded it, searching vainly for a moment then a flash of gold caught his eye at the far end of the hall and he raced after it, not daring to call aloud for fear of arousing any cries but anxious to catch this phantom before he lost sight of him.

In blind terror, Legolas ran, catching sight of the livery of the Guard. If he were discovered, he would be questioned and that he could not allow. His uncle would think he had told someone and then his father would die. He had to escape! But the figure behind him did not relent and Legolas, desperate, put on a new burst of speed and flung himself into a long room, sprinting across it and throwing himself down behind a statue of his grandfather, Oropher.

The ancient elven king stood in carven likeness, guarding the ever falling white fountain that graced the centre of the chamber. His curved sword was raised high, stony hair cascading over strong shoulders, his shield proudly upraised and emblazoned with the devices of his house. Legolas knelt there at its base, crammed as far into the crevice between the wall and the statue as he could, in the darkest corner he could find.

Every second lasted an eternity in which he lay crouched, his heart thumping hard between his ribs as he tried not to breathe though his lungs ached. His back, pressed against the cold flank of the marble statue, burned horribly but he made no sound. He knew he had reopened his only half-healed wounds and his head felt light and dizzy.

Breathing heavily, Haldir halted mere meters away from where the young prince hid, his grey eyes scanning the vast room in search of his elusive quarry. The fountain's trickling waters surged upward gently from far beneath the ground, its hushing whisper the only sound in the chamber.

Ignoring the beauty around him, Haldir stepped lightly, keeping close within the shadow of the wall. He could sense the other's presence in the room and knew Legolas had not fled down another corridor but he couldn't nail down exactly where. He knew the prince was frightened- and certainly not without good reason. But he had to get him to trust him, no matter what had happened. No matter what Ainan had done to him or the threats he had made, he had to get Legolas to come with him. It was their only chance.

"Legolas," he said softly in a whisper that carried nonetheless across the empty hall. "Legolas… it's me. Haldir. It's safe. You don't have to hide anymore…"

Staying where he was, the prince squeezed his eyes shut tight. He knew that blessedly familiar voice but he could not answer. Dared not. Friend or foe, no one could help him now. Not even Haldir… Legolas felt his eyes tear with relief that his friend was alive but the other part of him, the doubtful part, chewed at him, gnawed at his relief. If Haldir was free… why hadn't he come for him? He had promised he wouldn't leave him.

And he had.

That voice in his head made Legolas cringe and keep silent, his knees drawn up almost to his chin as he tried to breathe lightly, praying the other elf wouldn't discover him.

But Haldir was coming steadily closer, peering carefully at every shadow, every corner, behind every tapestry or statue. He was only feet away now and Legolas knew he would be exposed whether or not he moved. He gingerly stuck his head around the statue's leg, pulling back sharply as he realized how close the other elf was. He waited a moment until he was sure Haldir had his back to him and then he broke from his concealment, racing like the wind towards the arched doorway at the end of the chamber.

But long trained in the art of stealth, that was all Haldir needed to alert him and he twisted round to see Legolas bolting down the hallway swift as an arrow from a bow. The older elf leapt after him, frantic to catch him, ignoring the pain igniting in his arms and legs as he forced them on faster and farther than he thought he could go. Desperation leant wings to his feet and he slowly began to close the distance between the elven prince and himself, jumping flights of stairs or bounding up them, heedless of the growing pain ripping through his back and the sweat dripping into his eyes.

Legolas finally faltered and stumbled against the wall, his horrific injuries and near exhaustion catching up to him at last- only a moment did he take to regain his balance but it was enough. Haldir seized his arm and hung on for dear life as Legolas struggled like a wild thing, trying to escape his captor's grip, urgency and terror reflected in his white face. Seeing that the prince was not himself, Haldir shook him slightly just enough to rattle him.

"Legolas, daro! Daro! (Stop! Stop!) I'm your friend! I'm trying to help you!"

Finally realizing that he could resist no longer, Legolas slumped in his friend's grasp, panting and dizzy. His back burned with a horrible fire and he felt sick. For a moment the only thing he could do was lean into his friend's arms, hearing Haldir's heart pound thunderously under his ear as his chest rose and fell irregularly from the long chase that had drained the both of them.

Haldir laid a gentle hand atop the young elf's dusty golden head, feeling his trembling. The poor child was nearly dead on his feet.

After he had regained his breath somewhat, Haldir swallowed against the dryness in his throat and spoke.

"How did you get free?"

That hadn't been what he'd meant to say. He'd meant to tell the prince how glad and unspeakably relieved he was to find him alive and to tell him that it was going to be all right, that he didn't have to be afraid of anyone anymore. That he could see his mother again. Instead that question had popped out of his mouth. He could only gaze numbly down into the prince's face as he eyed the lingering traces of horror behind Legolas' blue eyes and the heaving back under his hand.

Flinching back, Legolas shook his head, avoiding Haldir's eyes with a mixture of shame and fear. He did not deserve Haldir's friendship or his concern. He was a weakling. A craven. A nothing. And he feared that if he even spoke to his friend, Ainan would make good his threats.

"I-I can't tell you anything…"

Haldir advanced as the prince retreated from him, afraid he would start running again.

"No!" Legolas cried in such an anguished tone that Haldir froze, unwilling to reach for him again lest the prince grow even more fearful and flee. He seemed liked a rabbit caught in a snare, willing to gnaw his own leg off to escape.

"Shhh," Haldir soothed with a tentative glance up and down the hall. Neither of them could risk being seen and the empty silence around them was not entirely comforting. "Legolas, it's all right. He can't hurt you anymore." Vainly, he tried to recover the words he'd meant to say. He couldn't understand why Legolas wanted to run from him. Something had spooked him badly.

Legolas just shook his head.

"Legolas, where is he?" he asked softly, fearing some trap. But the prince would not answer him and merely stared at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

"Legolas," Haldir pleaded when he didn't answer, his arm extended supplicatingly towards the frightened young elf. "I must know where he is. He cannot be protected any more."

"I am not protecting him," Legolas spat desperately, fear squeezing his heart as his uncle's warning reverberated through his mind and soul. If he even let one word slip, his father and mother, his friends would die; it was they he was trying to protect. He could say nothing- not even to his friend. And yet Haldir pressed him, ignorant of the terrible trap Legolas was caught in and not understanding why the young elf wouldn't trust him.

"He has killed! And he will do so again!" Haldir near-shouted, his mounting frustration and growing pain making him snap angrily. There was a deeper anguish behind his dark eyes but Legolas did not see it- would not see it. He tugged away from the elf's comforting touch.

"Have no more to do with this. I beg you, hir-nin, (my lord)" he said in quiet coldness. The formality of the title made Haldir actually flinch back as though the prince had struck him. Legolas didn't notice how gaunt and shadow-eyed the other elf appeared. How new lines of pain and care had been etched into his white face.

Haldir stepped towards him again but Legolas shied away like a skittish foal.

"Please, Legolas. I'm only trying to help." But, Legolas' cerulean eyes held no gratitude- only venom.

The floodgates had been released.

"You have helped enough and now my family has paid!" Tears glittered stingingly behind the prince's blue eyes but he refused to let them fall. Words unceasing rushed from his mouth. He didn't know what he was saying anymore but they spilled out anyway, a terrible flood of anger and helplessness that he had long kept locked tightly inside him.

"It's all your fault! If you had not meddled then my father would be here! Then my friends would not be in danger! It's all your fault!" The tears streamed down his cheeks now and he didn't care. A part of Legolas' mind knew that what he was saying was false- that these damning words could not be coming from his own mouth. He felt terrible saying them and even as he spoke he felt wretched guilt twist at his insides.

But the pain-wracked, frightened and angry half of him felt sickeningly good. Someone had to take the blame. These horrid things had started occurring only after this elf had arrived! It was his fault! But his throat had tightened too much for speech and he tried to turn his back on the elf to run. But Haldir quickly blocked his path, his face stricken.

"Bado uin mén! (Move out of the way!)" The younger elf snapped, his nerves frayed dangerously thin with pain, exhaustion and emotion. Haldir seized the younger elf by the elbow to restrain him afraid he would hurt himself but Legolas wrenched away with desperate strength.

"Do not touch me!" he hissed, his sapphire eyes blazing. Haldir took a surprised step back. Where had this hatred come from?

"Legolas, what is going on?"

Instead of answering the younger elf merely shook his head and turned away, his hands cupping his elbows as though he were cold. Haldir spread his hands pleadingly, terribly confused by this bitterly unexpected reaction.

"I'm only trying to help," he repeated and tentatively placed a hand on the prince's shoulder. Legolas tore away from him again, the tears he had fought so hard to contain rolling still faster down his cheeks. But he didn't have the strength to move further away.

"I trusted you," Legolas said quietly in a surprisingly calm voice. He still would not meet the other elf's gaze. "You left me." This time he looked up and that terrible blank blue gaze pierced the older elf like a knife through the heart.

"Legolas, I-" he stammered. He didn't know what he was trying to say. But whatever it was, the injured prince did not want to hear it. He whirled round to run but Haldir, desperate not to lose him again, grabbed his shoulder.

It was the wrong thing to do.

Wracked with exhaustion and pain, his soul consumed with anger and hurt, the prince reacted. His fist connected with the older elf's jaw. Caught off guard by the sudden blow, Haldir tumbled backwards, striking the wall where he slid to his knees, dazed. Stunned with surprise, he looked up at Legolas, a hand to his face. The prince gazed down at him in abject terror, frozen. Then, without once looking back, he spun about and bolted down the hall, soon vanishing from sight altogether.

Shakily, Haldir rose to his feet, glancing at the blood on his fingertips. He tasted it running down his chin but he didn't wipe it away.

Shocked and hurt, he could only stand there, staring down the empty hall, confusion and pain whirling through him. He stumbled forward mindlessly, unsure of what he was actually doing. He knew Legolas was too far away to hear him even if he shouted but he didn't think he had the strength. Even as he thought this, his vision blurred, an arching pain tearing through his head nearly bringing him to his knees again.

"Legolas," Haldir pleaded, staggering against the wall, grasping vainly at the stone to keep himself upright. "…wait."

Every word rang in Haldir's ears and he closed his eyes, wishing he could block out the accusing blue stare of the prince. Guilt and nausea sliced through him as his tired mind torturously replayed Legolas' words over and over in his head.

I trusted you… You left me…

He was right. Haldir had abandoned him to Ainan's cruel uses. Had left him in the hands of his enemies. His back felt hot and something sticky made his tunic cling to his skin.

But the horrible, betrayed look he had seen in his young friend's eyes had cut him more deeply than any of Ainan's lashings ever could.

Chapter Text

Heart pounding fit to burst, legs aching and trembling from running, mouth dry though his cheeks were wet with tears, Legolas stumbled through the corridors of his home. He ran not heeding where he was going, through hall and tunnel, gate and archway, he just ran. His limbs were trembling so badly they threatened to give way beneath him and he knew he would fall but he could not stop.

It wasn't from Haldir that he ran but rather from what he had just done. He had just hurt the one person who had believed him, believed in him and helped him through this nightmare. But for him, the prince would have been dead long ago- in the forest or by his uncle's hand.

The worst part of it was Haldir had let Legolas hit him. He had seen it in his eyes. The older elf had looked at him as though he had wanted to be punished. Deserved it even and Legolas had done it. He had struck his friend and he felt wretched with the knowledge that Haldir might never forgive him for it. And worse for knowing that he would never forgive himself.

His legs finally gave way and he crumpled to the floor, shaking against the wall. But he did not cry though his cheeks were still damp. It was as though he had finally run out of them though his pounding heartbeats shook him back and forth, seared horribly with hurt and anger and guilt. His head fell forward into his hands and he gripped his hair, tugging at it as though he wanted pain.

He had forgotten his errand but as he slowly gained mastery over himself, the longing grew even stronger within him to see his mother. His heart ached and his only thought was to be in her comforting arms, her soothing voice in his ear. Somehow, if he could just get to her, he might be able to fight through this misery. But he didn't think he could face Haldir again. Not after what he'd just done.

But he couldn't stay here either cowering like a child waiting for his uncle to find him. Ainan had always told him to act like an adult. Now he would.

Wiping the dampness of his tears on his much-torn tunic, he rose on shaking legs and made his way stealthily down the corridor, trying to keep his breathing even and focusing all of his remaining energy on placing one foot in front of the other. Every once in a while, he passed several soldiers but they did not speak to him and he did not recognize them.

At last, he came to his own room on the west wing of the palace. He glanced towards the door of his bedroom with a shudder and looked quickly away again. It was empty and everything was arranged as he had left it. Staring at his bow and quiver lying empty and forgotten in a corner, his books where he had left them, he was overcome with the oddest feeling that he was staring into a stranger's room.

It seemed part of another time when life was peaceful and emotional distress had not yet been a daily part of it. He stepped softly out again, not wishing to linger as he hurried onward, his spirits lifting a little out of the deep horror of his soul.

His parents' room was just around the corner.

His back was hurting horribly by now but he did not stop, bounding lightly down the corridor, his heart in his throat as he thought that he would soon see his mother. Eagerness and fear throbbed through him with every beat of his heart. Eagerness to see his mother and wretched fear that she would be disappointed in him, hating him for what he had done.

Swallowing all of his emotions, he flung himself around the corner and paused just outside his parents' room. Slowly, he stretched out his hand and turned the golden handle.

The stately rooms of the king and queen hung in deep shadow for the curtains were drawn and the air stuffy and dry though chill for there was nothing but cold ashes in the grate. The main chamber where his father's courtiers and noblemen gathered was utterly silent. The door to the left opened to his father's study was locked. The prince wandered around, his heart sinking through his boots as he moved to his parent's bedchamber, poking his head in.

It was empty.

Legolas shivered, the happy balloon in his stomach deflating rapidly. For a moment, he leant on the door with his head pressed against the lintel then walked in. It was very dark but the young prince would have known this room in the pitch blackness with his eyes closed. The small elegantly carved writing desk is where his mother kept her journal but the candle lay upon the table, dark. The rug under his feet felt deliciously soft after nothing but hard stone for days.

As he had when he was a small child, he crawled up onto the large bed, sighing quietly as he closed his eyes. He had not slept in a bed for so long, he had forgotten what it felt like. Even though his parents were not there, he could feel them in this room. The pillow still smelled of his mother's sweet hair as he buried his face in it.

His father, laughing, swung the pillow back at him and Legolas dodged it nimbly. His mother uttered a loud protest as the offending object flew at her.

Sitting before the fire in winter… wrapped in her warm embrace as his father read to him of the tales of the Elder Days…

Lying lazily in the window seat, watching the green limbs of the trees wave cheerfully from over the burbling stream which he could hear even from here…

The memories nearly made him burst into tears again but he carefully schooled his face into impassiveness though there were none to see him. It had become nearly automatic to him by now.

Somehow in the bright light of day, in the familiar room he had grown up in, he saw what his uncle wanted him to do. How hollow his false promises seemed now. Legolas knew better now that he could think clearly and had not the threat of the whip hanging over his head. Ainan would no sooner free his friends than he would abdicate the throne. And what would he do to his mother…

Dull horror swept through Legolas' heart and he felt his very soul shudder at what he had nearly done… He couldn't lead them to her… not to her… that would be a deeper betrayal than anything he had yet done. He would have to put aside his own longing, to keep her safe. Resolutely but with a heavy heart, Legolas rose, determined to get as far from here as he could.

Something creaked and the prince started up, whirling towards the door.

A figure stood there, wreathed in the bright sunlight pouring through the doorway.

Not knowing how to react to this apparition, Legolas shrank back against the bedpost, his eyes wide as he shaded them with a slender hand.

"Kirar," he said, shocked when he recognized the figure. He hadn't seen his teacher in several weeks- not since his father had disappeared. It seemed like an age ago.

Kirar looked down into the young prince's drawn face and felt his heart wrench. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder but Legolas flinched away, hiding his face beneath his curtain of golden hair.

"Tolo, ernil nin. (Come along, my prince.)"

Legolas slowly raised his head and hesitantly took the hand the lieutenant offered him to pull him to his feet.

"Where are we going?" he asked, trotting alongside his tutor as they moved out into the hall, leaving the King and Queen's chambers behind. But Kirar did not answer and Legolas felt a growing disquiet rise in him. He glanced out the window and realized that the sun was falling from its zenith, the cold wind lashed the tree branches against the windows and still they walked on through the long halls.

Suddenly, Kirar stopped.

Startled, Legolas checked too.

"What's wrong?"

The older elf did not answer as he gazed down into his student's face, a faraway look in his eyes.

"My prince… Legolas… edhoved nin, (forgive me,)" he murmured, dropping to one knee to look up at the prince's face, taking his hands beseechingly. Legolas looked down at him in confusion and embarrassment.

"For what?" he asked, his heart thumping painfully between his ribs as a cold sweat broke out over his back and hands.

The older elf dropped his eyes and shook his head, running a hand through his hair, tugging at it in agitation.

"So many things…" he muttered, almost to himself. He closed his eyes for a long moment and when he looked up, there was so deep a sadness in them that Legolas' felt cut to the heart. But there was fear there too and anguish in his mentor's eyes that he had never seen there before. And a new determination.

Slowly, Kirar rose to his feet. Legolas watched him carefully. His teacher looked almost… frightened and a tingling warning shivered up his spine. The elven lieutenant cast a quick glance around the vacant hallways then abruptly grabbed Legolas' shoulder, pushing him towards an overhanging archway.

"Come on, this way," he urged, pushing the prince ahead of him with a hand on the small of his back.

"Where are we going?"

"Upedo, (Don't speak,)" his teacher hushed him with a frantic glance over his shoulder. "I'm going to help you escape from this."

"Really?" Legolas felt a sudden unspeakable rush of gratitude towards his teacher.

"Yes, and that is why you must be silent."

Their feet fairly flew over the paved stones of the passages, leaping down flights of stairs until Legolas was panting to keep up. He had no idea where they were going or why but Kirar seemed desperate to escape… something. Impatiently, he grabbed the prince's hand when he faltered, staring uneasily over his shoulder for long periods of time and then hustling him along even faster than before.

Just when Legolas feared he could not move another step, they stopped. The magnificent palace gates spread out before them. Massively carved of old, reminiscent of the dwarves who had aided in its construction, it stood nigh on thirty feet tall from top to bottom, inscribed with emerald threaded vines and silver mithril veins from the deepest caverns, carved with all images of bird and beast.

The doors would only open by magic at the King's command.

A curious sense of relief and fear rushed through the prince as he thought of what might be beyond those doors: freedom from this nightmare, a true escape, but without food, shelter or weapons. If Kirar left him here…

"Do you know where your mother is?" Kirar asked suddenly, turning to him. Legolas shook his head, stricken from his fearful musings.

"No."

Kirar looked slightly disappointed and his eyes skated around the room again, searching the small, dark corners.

"There has to be a way…" he muttered quietly. Again Legolas had the impression that he was talking to himself.

Then, the noise they had most dreaded to hear.

Footsteps.

"Kirar! Thank the Valar, you found him!" a voice called out, halting them abruptly as an elf in long rustling blue robes, flanked by three guards, hastened towards them. The elven lieutenant visibly stiffened and his face paled.

"Serkë, did he send you out as well?" he asked as casually as he could.

"He is getting impatient," the elf councilor responded with a twitch of his shoulders and an uneasy glint in his eyes. He did not even look at the prince. "You'd better bring him now."

Legolas looked pleadingly up at his teacher. Kirar shot him one, quick, apologetic look and laid a hand on his shoulder, steering him around. Legolas could not believe it, able only to watch as freedom slipped away from him step by torturous step.

Quickly now, they moved back into the heart of the palace. Environed on all sides by stone-faced guards, Legolas could only walk at his teacher's side in growing fear and apprehension. A sense of loss, increased by his near escape, crept over him and shivered his soul. Idly, he wondered if his mother was safe, and Haldir… But thinking of him made the young prince recoil from the memories and he halted that train of thought even as they slowed.

Unconsciously, he uttered a little cry and tried to break away from his teacher but Kirar held him tightly, grimacing at the look of anguish on the prince's face. He turned towards the head of the chamber, gently pushing the prince forward into the chamber.

"I brought him as you asked, hir-nin (my lord)" he said stiffly.

If Ainan heard any bitterness in that address, he did not heed it. He rose from the elegantly carved throne with a small smile, a silver circlet glinting on his fair brow. Ainan's eyes flickered over the prince's head at the doorway, as though searching for another. Frowning slightly when he did not find what he sought, he returned his gaze to Legolas who still stood with his arms gripped by the unfamiliar guards as if he were a prisoner.

"So nice of you to join us again, little prince."

Legolas scowled up at him without fear.

Despair had made him bold.

"I know what you're trying to do, Uncle!" he cried out in an anguished tone, trying to wrench away from that grip of steel. "I will not let you hurt my mother!" He had promised his father he would protect her.

Ainan's lean face twisted into an angry scowl then he smiled. Legolas shivered deep within himself as his uncle bent forward so that his face was a mere few inches from the younger elf's own, his silver-blue eyes boring into his.

"Then you have sealed your fate, child," his uncle said quietly, his eyes glittering strangely in the dim half-light. "And you have not saved her- for I will have her one way or the other. And then… I thought of letting her live but now, her end will be long and slow- thanks to you."

Legolas felt his heart drop through the bottom of his stomach and a cold feeling tingling throughout his body.

"And your friends will not be spared. One by one they will die. But as for you, little princeling, I think I will keep you around just long enough so you can watch the life fade from their eyes. To see their looks of unending suffering, to see their hatred and condemnation of you before you die."

Legolas merely stared at him with a blank blue gaze, his face utterly devoid of expression and Ainan prided himself on having put that look there for a dark smile lifted the corners of his lips as he straightened.

"But, I have other affairs to attend to than bothering with you," he sneered and Legolas, realizing that he was being given a reprieve from torment, sighed inwardly in relief. Something of it must have shown on his face for Ainan smiled slightly.

"Fear not, nephew, punishment is only put off, not forgotten."

He ruffled the prince's hair in a cruel mockery of fondness, undaunted when Legolas jerked away from him. His voice lowered to a dangerous growl as he gestured for the guards to seize his nephew.

"I will make it so you will betray your dearest friends for want of a sight of the sun."

Haldir sighed in aggravation. He had gotten completely turned around somewhere in these wretched tunnels and could no longer hear any sight or sound of anyone, let alone the prince. He wandered somewhat aimlessly, guessing half-haphazardly at the direction in which Legolas might have gone as he wracked his brains, trying to conjure up a recollection of these parts of the palace.

But his memory of the mad rush through the halls was vague at best and he could only recall glimpses of long, stone corridors lined with torches that guttered madly as he passed them. Shaking his head ruefully, he moved onward, trying to ignore the biting pain in his back and legs and the much sharper one in his heart.

So absorbed in his thoughts was he that he didn't realize that he had come to a door until he nearly ran into it. Halting abruptly, he examined it. The portal was heavy and well-built but it didn't seem to be locked or even barred. He hesitated only a moment before he pushed it open.

Sunlight dazzled his eyes and he blinked in the brilliance, feeling suddenly elated at the sight of the sun which he thought he would never see again. The fresh chill breeze that blew in from the north revived his spirit a little and blew away the last vestiges of weariness and fatigue that had been dragging at him though his heart remained heavy.

He stepped into a courtyard, realizing with a thrill of shock that it was not much past midmorning. How could the sun shine on such a black day? It seemed impossible and yet, the merry light did, capering among white fluffy clouds past the swaying boughs over his head. Haldir shaded his eyes with a slender hand and gazed across the expanse of frozen lawn that lay between him and the other wall where another door loomed ahead. The gate looked as though it ran further down into the palace but he would have to cross the open courtyard without being seen in order to do it.

Moving into the deeper shadows cast by the sun that had not yet risen over the top tiers of the palace, the elf stepped warily down the short flight of broad stairs. An espalier of trees stood in the centre of the courtyard, bare of their leaves in this bitter winter. He glided stealthily from shadow to shadow, watching the blank high windows that glared down at him like so many eyes, sparkling in the sunlight. It seemed to take an eternity before he reached the door. He pressed himself against it, relieved when it yielded to him and he escaped the sight of the eyes.

He did not see the black shape slip in after him before he swung the door to.

With a twinge of discomfiture, he realized he was in another, very narrow tunnel, standing on the first of a straight set of stairs that receded sharply downward into the cold blackness. There were no torches here and a single misstep might send him hurtling into the black air to land painfully at the bottom. Images of him lying on the landing with a broken neck plagued Haldir as he eased himself carefully down the stairs, praying the dizzy spells would not return at least for this moment.

He forced his knees to bend and his feet to keep steady pace as he traversed the stone stairs that seemed to last forever, going down, down, down into the Valar-knew what foulness was down here! But perhaps luck would stay with him and he would find Legolas again or, at any rate, something that looked vaguely familiar.

It was then that he heard it.

A noise, soft and catlike, like a bootstep soft against the stone.

From behind him.

Haldir tensed, twisting around sharply, hand flying to the hilt of his borrowed sword as he lunged backwards down the stairs to avoid something scything towards him out of the dark.

A ringing screech of steel on stone resounded close to his head and he shied away as the sound rang painfully in his ears. Shaking it off, he drew his sword blade, grasping it firmly in both hands, his elbows nearly brushing either side of the walls. He would have very little room to maneuver if he managed to at all.

But there was nothing there. Only empty blackness.

Suddenly, something struck him hard from behind and Haldir stumbled up the stairs a few paces as pain raced up his back. He whirled round swiftly. An iron grip closed around his throat and the Lórien elf gasped desperately, trying to draw in air that refused to reach his lungs. He kicked out sharply and his boot connected. With a grunt of pain, the grip on his throat released.

Haldir twisted away, heaving in air through his crushed windpipe. His head spun from lack of oxygen and the poison still in his lungs made it difficult to regain his breath. He coughed, blinking to clear his watering eyes. He saw a gleam of steel as though a cold light had been unsheathed and swung towards it. But he still could not see what was attacking him and it was driving him mad. His enemy seemed always to be behind him though he didn't know how that could be possible in such close quarters unless his adversary was a wraith of his own imagining.

But the pain was very real as something struck the joint at the back of his knee hard and reflex overcame will, dropping him hard to the stairs. He lost his balance and rolled down the rest of the stairs, landing hard on his back with the wind knocked out of him. His sword rang on the stone where it had been knocked from his hand during the fall. Bruised and gasping for breath, he lay still, trying to collect himself.

Before he could shake off the stun, that unbreakable grip seized him again and slammed his head back against the floor, dazing him. Once. Twice more in quick succession. Silver and purple sparks exploded over his vision. And then it hazed yellow as he dropped to the floor, swallowed up in a pool of inky blackness.

Chapter Text

The bright sun peered through the elegant panes of spidered glass shattering into a thousand shafts of light to dance upon the rich carpeted floor. The room was still, a play of shadows whirling in the corners as a brittle tree beckoned outside the window in the chill afternoon breeze. Winter still had not released its harsh grip upon the land though the snow had melted.

Anariel sighed from her place underneath the window, her heart aching as she stared out at the deceptively bright sky. She sat shrouded in her own fear and sorrow, her noble face illuminated by the cheerful sun.

Her writing desk was spread with parchment and a quill, drying in the inkwell with the letters she had tried to answer, those that she received that had not already been opened or intercepted, furtively passed to her by loyal servants. The elven people were frantic that their King had not reappeared. They were frightened and confused, not understanding what was going on, worried about their prince and their queen. But Anariel could do nothing to reassure them for she herself was a prisoner to her own doubt, caught on the edge of a breaking storm.

She sat surrounded by her ladies in waiting who bent over their embroidery or books. It was too quiet. There was no laughter and no song as there had been in days of old. One of her ladies, sat bent over her book, her eyes on the page but reading not the words. Her fair face was grave and sad. Her son and husband had been missing for days and she shared a mother's pain with the Queen for their boys had grown up together: Lóthmir and Legolas.

Uncertainty shrouded the air, a tension that threatened to break at any moment. Ainan had realized just how far his power stretched.

Already several of her friends and closest advisors had been taken and not returned. Where they were now, she did not know. The prisons or the executioner's block floated before her mind's eye but she ruthlessly crushed it down. If she gave into despair then there truly was no hope left for any of them. She had to cling to hope and weather this storm as she had so many others in her long life.

I am safe, she tried to think composedly. Her brother could not kill her- the people would surely riot if their beloved queen was taken from them. He could not afford that now. But what would stop him from taking everyone else that she cared for? Her blue gaze drifted to where her maids sat working, one even tried to laugh and another who caught her gaze smiled. Anariel looked away towards the door where the young sentinel who had watched over her ceaselessly in her sleepless night long vigils sat near the door.

A tentative knock on the chamber door roused Rinniad, who stood stationed beside it, startled from an impromptu doze. He had not slept for days and exhaustion had finally taken its toll. Blushing at being caught sleeping at his post, he rushed to answer it.

"Who is it?" he questioned gruffly with his hand on the bolt.

"Loyal compatriots and allies of the Queen," came a voice from the other side.

Rinniad froze, scarcely able to believe his ears as he glanced over towards the Queen for permission. Anariel nodded.

The young guard slid back the latch and threw open the door, his face whitening with shock and amazement at who stood upon the threshold.

The elves of Lothlórien smiled at his obvious astonishment. Thick cloaks were wrapped about them and they stood uneasily in the corridor. Ancadal glanced over his shoulder.

"Are you going to let us in or not?" he demanded impatiently and Rinniad stepped numbly back to admit them.

"We thought you were dead," he gasped aloud before a soft inquiring voice from within made him turn apologetically to the Queen.

"My Lady, they're here! They're alive!" he gasped out, throwing the door wide for Rameil and Ancadal to enter.

"Thank the Valar," Anariel whispered fervently, rising from her seat. Her sympathetic gaze ran over them; they looked haggard as though they had endured much pain but had mastered it now. Quickly, she bade them sit and take their ease but they refused, remaining standing in agitation.

"Glad am I to see you free," she breathed in relief, a small measure of hope returning to her.

"Your messenger was a great help to us, Lady," Rameil said, bowing respectfully. Anariel cocked her head in puzzlement.

"I sent no messenger," the Queen said with a slight frown gracing her fair features. Rameil and Ancadal exchanged an uneasy look but Anariel disregarded it.

"What matters is that you are safe. Where is your commander?" she asked, momentarily forgetting her own sadness when she did not see the third among their company.

Neither of them answered and the Queen felt a shiver of fear.

"What happened?"

"We do not know," Rameil answered honestly.

They had been sick with worry when they had woken to discover him missing. When the young woman had returned, she had replied that she had not seen him but bade them to come to the Queen anyway. She would try to find their friend if she could and get a message to them as soon as she was able.

Anariel searched their faces, reading the anguish in their eyes and felt her own hope falter.

"My son?" she asked in a whisper, steeling herself against the unbearable sense of loss she felt when she saw their faces fall.

"We have seen him, Lady," Rameil said. "When we went searching for him, we glimpsed him briefly and to our knowledge, our commander was with him before we were captured though he was taken as well. I fear unless the prince escaped, he must be here, somewhere."

Anariel sighed, torn between the relief that her son was no longer lost in the forest and terrible, gripping fear that he had fallen into her brother's hands again. She sank slowly into her chair beside the fire, her face white as she twisted the ink-stained quill in her grasp.

"Lady, can you not speak to him?" Ancadal pleaded naively, unable to even speak the name of the tyrant. "He is your brother; he may listen to you."

Anariel shook her head with a dark, surprisingly bitter smile on her lovely face like a storm cloud in a clear sky.

"He will no more listen to me then he would you," she said softly. "I am his deepest fear now. I am the only one who still holds the throne against him. We are rivals he and I."

"Kin and enemies at once? That doesn't make any sense," Ancadal said almost plaintively.

"No," Anariel responded dully. "No, it doesn't."

Rameil, looking down at the top of her golden head, guessed shrewdly.

"He is keeping you here against your will as well," he said softly. Her head lifted at his words but she did not deny his statement. Ancadal blew out a frustrated breath but said nothing. Rameil, suddenly noticing the others in the room, cast a questioning glance at the Queen who nodded reassuringly that it was free to speak.

"Then it is war."

Rameil's words dropped through the silence like a stone into a still pool. The ladies who had been attending avidly to every word as they worked, looked away shame-facedly as though he had said something indecent.

"This can't be it! There must be something we can do!" Ancadal burst out, horrified by his own helplessness.

"What is there?" Rameil replied calmly, but his eyes were still on the Queen.

"We can wait no longer," Anariel agreed quietly, looking out the bay window. "We have lost too much time already. I do not know what my brother is planning but I will not stand idly by anymore." The news of her son's imprisonment seemed to have galvanized her.

"Who are our allies? Who will stand by us?" Rameil asked.

Anariel looked up at him thoughtfully.

"Sarithan's soldiers- our border patrol. They have been out there for several weeks- as is their wont. There are refreshing posts out there so they need not return to the palace often. They do not know what is happening and may be persuaded to join us if we can get a message to them."

"If Ainan has not gotten to them first and if we can get a message to them," Rameil stipulated.

"Your Majesty-" a timid voice offered.

Anariel looked up at Rinniad who hovered still near the doorway. He stepped forward as the Queen beckoned to him. For too long he had been trapped here, and finally here was his chance to stop hiding and do something at last to help his friends. His shoulders firmed with resolution as he looked at their expectant faces, waiting for him to speak.

"Let me go," he said staunchly. "I can do it. They will suspect me to be only a runner- a go-for for the Regent," Rinniad spat his title as though it were poison.

"It might work," Rameil answered doubtfully but Ancadal eagerly nodded his agreement.

Anariel looked from one to the other and then to the determined young elf that had never left her side since her son had gone missing.

"Kelo, Rinniad, (Go,)" she commanded him at last, granting him a kiss on his brow in blessing. "And may the Valar go with you." Rinniad looked up at her fondly, bowed and spun on his heel, disappearing swiftly out the door.

"What must we do in the meantime?" Ancadal asked, taking a seat at last in the window, his leg bouncing nervously.

"We will be patient," Anariel said calmly, her face a mask to her thoughts. "If he has not returned by nightfall…"

"I cannot wait that long!" the younger elf groaned, rising and pacing restlessly to and fro. "Our friend is missing! Your son! What happens if Ainan discovers what we plan to do? What if he-?"

"Ancadal-" Rameil began passively, trying to calm his friend with a hand on his shoulder.

"He will kill them!" Ancadal burst out, twisting away, his blue eyes wide.

Anariel hushed him, a hand raised to ward off his words. Her posture had stiffened and she stood rigid, tense, listening with her head tilted towards the door. Someone was coming.

"Hide yourselves in my chamber- hurry," she bade them, pushing them towards the other door that led into another part of the Queen's vast rooms.

Her elven ladies, discreet to the last, kept their heads bent over their work, one even hummed softly. The illusion worked well as the Queen seated herself regally beside the window once more as her servant opened the door to admit an unfamiliar messenger garbed in the green of Mirkwood.

He glanced around the room and walked slowly forwards, halting before the Queen. He did not bow.

"My lord commands you to attend him, madam." He did not call her 'Your Majesty' as he should have.

"My brother may ask what he wishes of me but at another time. I am weary," Anariel stalled, putting him off.

The messenger would not be deterred.

"The King commands it."

"I was not aware that the King, my husband, had given such an order," she said evenly, deliberately misunderstanding him. The messenger twitched awkwardly under her challenging gaze.

"His Majesty, King Ainan, my lady," he offered into the increasingly uncomfortable silence.

"Ainan is not the King," Anariel returned coolly. "But Regent until my son or husband should return."

The messenger left unanswered.

A cold draft chilled his skin as Haldir awoke. He grimaced and a repressed groan escaped his lips as he wondered how many times he was going to be rendered unconscious before this was over. He could feel the throbbing knot at the back of his skull and dried blood clotting in his hair. There was a lump the size of a fist to grace his crown, he was sure for his head felt as though it had been split in two. Sick dizziness assaulted him as he tried to reach a hand to touch his head and found that his wrists were bound with leather thongs looped over a low beam. He hung with his feet scarcely brushing the ground which was littered with jagged and broken stones.

Before him, he saw a spot of light and wondered at it. There was a single narrow slit that looked out east on his left and a shaft of chilled sunlight fell onto the stone floor. He was not back in the dungeons as he had supposed but in some kind of chamber on the other side of the palace.

He craned his neck over his shoulder as a sound came from behind him: the distinct click of a door unlatching. He could not see who it was but he could feel it and a prickle of fear raced up his spine and set the hairs on the back of his neck astir.

He had felt this dark one's aura before.

"Ah, you are awake at last," that sinister voice spoke almost casually. "All rested are we?" He laughed. "Good."

That tone made Haldir nearly shiver as it sounded close to his ear. Still he could not see his enemy. "These chains… you don't like it do you, Haldir?" The voice goaded.

"How does it feel to be completely at my mercy? Helpless? Vulnerable? Tell me. It was very foolish of you to go off on your own like that. Wanted to save your friends did you? Or perhaps," Tindómëtir slowly stepped into his line of vision, a wicked light in his eyes. "You thought to follow your noble crusade to save the young prince," he mocked.

This elf seemed to know his every doubt, his every fear and each barbed word cut deeper than the last.

"I assure he is being well taken care of."

His hungry, avid eyes stared out from a pale leonine face. Haldir felt as though they were raking right through him, stripping through flesh and bone to lay bare his soul and he quickly looked away.

"I can smell the fear on you… the anger… You would strike me down had you the chance, wouldn't you, Haldir? Wouldn't you?" he jeered. Again the elf captain made no answer.

Yes, he thought, I would. But a hard, cold knot of fear lodged itself in his stomach and he swallowed hard to try to keep it from rising up to his throat.

"Well, you do not. And you will not. You are alone. All alone- bound and chained, bereft of friends- an animal in a cage and you will never be free until I command it." Haldir merely glared at him in return but he forgot what the dark elf had said as soon as he looked at him.

For the first time, Haldir noticed that Tindómëtir twirled the Lórien captain's own sword idly in his hands. Clearly, he was unused to wielding such a heavy weapon but his eyes shone with a covetous glee.

"You are not fit to handle that blade," Haldir snarled, ignoring the sharp spike of pain that shot through his head. The dark elf ignored him.

"This is very like to the one of the elf I killed. Stupid fool. Did not even bother to draw his weapon against me."

Tindómëtir smiled evilly at the expression of barely controlled fury in the other elf's eyes as Haldir raised his head, the leather cords creaking and tightening against his wrists.

Laughing, the dark elf touched Cálivien's sword to Haldir's neck, his deep eyes filled with wickedness.

"How easy it would be end your life now!" he sneered, twitching the blade to nick the soft skin under his captive's throat. A trickle of blood welled from the small cut. But Tindómëtir withdrew the blade and tossed it carelessly into a corner.

"But where would the amusement be then?" he inquired to no one in particular as he stepped out of Haldir's line of sight and returned a moment later, holding a lengthy piece of sturdy fire-blackened wood in his hand about as long as a walking staff but hollow and slightly pliable with knobs dotting its frame. He bent it idly and gave the elf-captain a cutting slap against his side. It made a sharp crack as it resounded against flesh and Haldir hissed in pain.

The dark elf smiled openly taunting now.

"You will learn that a thing does not have to be sharp in order to hurt," he said, almost as if reciting a prepared litany or a long-remembered lesson. "I shall show you what true pain is, Captain of Lórien. And this time, your friends will not save you."

From the doorway, Kirar winced in distaste and looked away, bitterly wishing he had been elsewhere when Tindómëtir had found him while carrying his unconscious burden and unwillingly enlisted his help. Kirar wondered if Ainan's captain feared that the Lórien elf would escape again, but looking at him, the elven lieutenant thought that rather unlikely. The bound elf looked dead on his feet; he was bleeding from a cut on his forehead and his bare back was already marked with long, red lacerations that had bled anew when Tindómëtir had stripped the bandages from his back with negligent indifference.

The dark elf seemed to like an audience when he 'questioned' the prisoner and had commanded the other's assistance in 'preparing' him. Kirar had half-heartedly agreed only because of his fear of the wild elf who had been quite a terror to the guards under his command, those who had joined Ainan rather than suffer the prisons at least. Kirar almost wished he were there now rather than here.

He was all for the good of Mirkwood but somehow this did not seem to be for the good of anything- it was mindless, senseless torment for a confession they would never get. But he dared not voice this aloud for fear of taking the Lórien elf's place under the lash. So, he ignored his conscience and turned his attention grimly to the matter at hand.

Tindómëtir was slowly circling the elf, touching the end of the pole lightly to his captive's temple, causing Haldir to jerk his head away irritably. The dark elf chuckled at the reaction he drew from him. He had seen the way the others deferred to him for instructions during that poor excuse for a trial. It would be interesting to see how long it would take to break him. He might last a few days.

"It was very clever of you to try to free the prisoners and incite a rebellion. Very clever indeed and I would dearly like to know how you came upon the keys. But I assure you they are being punished as we speak. However, I have been granted special leave to teach you how to obey your liege-lord." If that ended in the Lórien elf's death, so be it. His master had commanded him to slay any that Legolas came into contact with other than his mother. Ainan apparently had special plans for the Queen.

But the matter at hand would be most entertaining for him. He was going to make sure of that. The dark elf had overheard the argument between the prince and his prisoner as he lurked in the corridor and he used those biting words to his horrible advantage now to further break this proud spirit dangling before him. Dragging his head back by his hair, he pressed his lips very close to the other's ear.

"Now you will know how he suffered. In small part," he chuckled wickedly. "But first, I will offer you a choice if you like, Haldir," Tindómëtir said, releasing him. "You will tell me where the Queen is and you will tell me where your friends are- and perhaps, you may go free. But if I must rip the words one by one from your lips I shall- and gladly." He flashed a wolfish smile of white teeth.

Haldir spat at him.

Tindómëtir merely grinned all the wider.

"Then we will do it my way."

The second stroke to his back jarred Haldir forward against his bonds, his long hair falling limply over his shoulders, hiding his grimace of pain.

Slowly, at first, almost softly, the blows fell on himStinging enough to hurt but not so much that it was beyond endurance. Haldir did not move, did not give his tormentor any satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

But Tindómëtir was far from finished and the blows fell strategically with a frightening rhythm that had Haldir struggling uncomfortably in his bonds as the pole struck at his legs, his shins, jerked and tensed against the pain, twisting away from the blows as much as his restraints allowed. But Tindómëtir only drew nearer, striking harder if he shied. Haldir refused to let a sound pass his lips and pressed them so tightly together his jaw hurt and the piercing pain in his head intensified.

"Come now, Haldir. Don't be tedious," Tindómëtir sneered lazily. "Your friends were much more responsive."

Haldir merely shook his head irritably to move a strand of hair that dangled in front of his face, shuddering as hatred burned inside him.

Annoyed by this lack of response, the dark elf changed tactics and began to circle him slowly again, halting to hover close behind the other elf's right shoulder.

"He cried, Haldir. He sobbed for mercy: did the little prince tell you that?"

Haldir closed his eyes against the foul words that drove the knife deeper into his hurting heart.

"He trusted you to keep him safe…" Tindómëtir said in a tone of injured disapproval. "And you couldn't even do that. You couldn't."

The pain came swiftly. And with it, a curious sense of relief. He deserved this punishment for what he had done to Legolas; he could have laughed if it didn't hurt so much. His skin was flushed and the clear imprint of the staff burned upon his skin as he closed his eyes against the growing agony.

But it grew worse as Tindómëtir thrashed him mercilessly, plying new welts on top of the old, yet un-healed ones. The sheer unrestraint of the other elf was alarming.

Instead of using the flattened edge of the wood, the dark elf flipped it around in his hand so he held it like a sword. The cracked edges were splintered and they raked small bleeding lines across his already hurting back. The ragged ends caught in an already open wound, tearing the skin and Haldir reared back with a quickly stifled cry.

A blow to his head caused the sickening ache in his head to redouble and black spots to swirl menacingly before his eyes.

The pain was coming too fast and too sudden for his already hurting body to take. Stroke after stroke after stroke leaving trails of stinging fire from shoulders to lower back, on his chest, even his arms. A sharp crack to the crook of his elbow and his reflex overcame will, jarring him hard against the restraints that had already cut into his wrists.

Sweat poured down his face as he strained to hold back a scream. He closed his eyes, trying to empty his mind of all thoughts, to not think about the pain or the maniacal triumph of the one hitting him as he tried to keep his breathing even. That is until Tindómëtir drove his horrendous implement into the elf's gut.

Haldir grunted, his breath whooshing from his lungs. Instinctively, he tried to curl up and his back seared. For a moment, he panicked, gaping helplessly, unable to draw in a breath. Alarm bells began ringing wildly in his head. Breathe! Breathe! He needed air! Dark spirals gathered at the edges of his vision and the bells screamed piercingly in his ears.

Then he inhaled sharply, his lungs inflating with the pure joy of breath. The tension eased though the terrible, stinging pain remained. He sucked in another breath just in time to release it in a pained groan as the splintered edge tickled his ribs, scoring his flesh like a rending claw. His knuckles clenched white, his fingernails digging into the palms of his numbed hands.

Hang pride! His pride could suffer later- if he lived long enough to allow it. He wanted to free himself from his agony and he knew it would not stop until Tindómëtir had heard him scream. But still his will was telling him 'no!' It obdurately refused to yield though his body was trembling uncontrollably now.

Tindómëtir paused for a moment, his breathing coming harsh, smiling with the bestial self-assurance of one who knew he was close to getting what he wanted.

Haldir's breaths sobbed raggedly in his throat, burning his chest as the previous lashes on his back flamed underneath the new bruises. The fiery agony steadily ate away at his tolerance and the elf could feel himself shaking. He was going to die just like Cálivien- to disappear and never be found until it was too late. His world funneled down until he could see nothing but blackness and feel the tearing pain. He couldn't do this anymore! It was ripping him apart inside.

The black-knobbed pole came whistling down and smashed into his shoulder and he felt the bone slip free with an audible crack.

He screamed.

But even screams did not travel far through the thick stone walls.

"That is just one of many bones in your body, Haldir," Tindómëtir chuckled. "We have a long ways to go yet." The staff slapped at his bruised and bleeding legs in dark promise.

"How would you like to never wield a sword again?" he wondered as he paused with the cane poised a hairsbreadth above his captive's right wrist. Haldir moaned softly, blinded by pain. But the dark elf withdrew.

Still not satisfied, Tindómëtir cut him loose with a terse slice of his short double edged dagger. Haldir landed hard on his hands and knees, wincing as the jagged stones cut into his palms and agony shot through his dislocated shoulder. The dark elf's boot connected solidly with his ribs and he tumbled onto his back, gasping at the sharp pain that stabbed through him. Before he could recover himself, the dark elf was on him, a boot planted firmly on his chest, grinding him slowly into the broken floor.

Haldir's face screwed up in agony and a sharp groan escaped his lips. A harsh strike with the very tip of the weapon slammed the side of his face against the ground and the needle-sharp tip of a rock gouged into his cheek. Releasing his hold on the other, Tindómëtir walked casually around the bleeding, battered form of the Lórien elf.

"It would be entirely too easy to kill you," he laughed cruelly, twitching the pole in his hand and enjoyed watching the elf flinch away. Pain-filled grey eyes lifted and caught Kirar's who was staring at him in abject horror, frozen, unable or unwilling to interrupt.

Sliding out unnoticed, the elven lieutenant leaned against the closed door, passing a trembling hand over his eyes. He took a deep steadying breath as a quickly muffled cry from within electrified him into motion, sprinting down the hall as fast as his legs could take him from the horror he had witnessed.

Tindómëtir did not even notice. But Haldir felt a sinking sensation in his chest. He couldn't even blame the other elf for leaving him to his tormentor. All of them had in one way or another, whether serving him or against him, had suffered under the hands of Ainan or his allies. This was no different. But it didn't blunt the sharp disappointment Haldir felt and the shame and vulnerability that ached in him as Tindómëtir leered over him.

The dark elf's cutting voice dragged him back into awareness of his position accompanied by a reminding touch with the staff.

"This would be so much easier for you, Haldir, if you would just tell me where the Queen is and her rabble."

"I cannot tell you what I do not know," the elf captain said calmly, despite the crippling pain that roiled through him,tastingblood in his mouth and feeling the implement on his back though the dark elf was no longer hitting him. It didn't matter that Tindómëtir wouldn't believe him and probably didn't care whether or not he was telling the truth.

He closed his eyes, feeling the floor sway beneath his knees. His senses were in overdrive and he could feel and hear everything: the crunch of the stones under his tormentor's boots, the wind in the trees outside, howling amid the chinks in the stone, the slam of a door down the hall. He tried to focus on these sounds rather than on the agony flowing through him.

"You lie," Tindómëtir spat. He tilted the defiant elf's chin up with the tip of the bloodstained pole, staring down into his pain-hazed eyes. "Ainan may have some use for you alive but I have no compunction against making your end long and slow."

He left Haldir lying upon the floor, scarcely clinging to consciousness. His world had become pain and all was dark before his eyes. He felt as though he were floating in a sea of fire and did not even realize it when Tindómëtir left him slumped and shivering against the wall.

His senses were shutting down, closing off everything, all light, sound, feeling.

"I want you to linger for a while, Haldir," he said. "I cannot let you die in the first hour." His voice sounded far away as though coming down a long tunnel.

It wasn't possible. Had it only been an hour? Haldir thought desperately with his wavering coherency. It seemed so much longer.

"I only need you to suffer long enough to make a lasting impression."

Haldir didn't know if he was talking about his mind or his skin but decided at the moment that he didn't care.

He felt dizzy and ill, able only to lie there and absorb the terrible abuse. His ribs and chest ached from where the dark elf had kicked him and he was sure he would have some rather impressive bruises to account for later. Rameil would be cross at him, he thought, giddily. His shoulder throbbed relentlessly, a piercing white hot pain that shot all the way down to the tips of his fingers.

Resting his forehead slowly against the coolness of the stone floor, he lay there, unable to move and not wanting to though the jagged tips of the rock dug into his hurting ribs and forehead.

He was so far gone he didn't hear the dark elf's last words to him.

"There shall be none left to mourn you when you are dead and forgotten."

Legolas raised his heavy head as his cell door swung open. He hung from one wrist this time and his shoulder and still unhealed wrist throbbed abominably from the tension he was placing on them but he couldn't get his feet under him. He flinched away as a shuttered lamp shone in his eyes and his visitor's face was revealed fully in the light. The prince tensed, shrinking back against the wall as close as he was able as he recognized Tindómëtir's lean form. His heart clenched as he looked closer at the elf who stood surveying him without a word.

Spatters of blood, scarcely visible against his dark clothes, showed clearly where it flecked the pale white skin of his hands and neck. Legolas felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he wondered whose blood that was. But he had no further time for thought as Tindómëtir stalked towards him, freeing him from his chain with a vicious jerk, causing Legolas to cry out as the manacle ripped from his wrist, gouging long jagged scratches into his skin.

The dark elf nearly lifted the prince right off his feet as Legolas struggled fiercely against him, hating this elf with every fiber of his being.

"Let me go!" he roared, fighting savagely against the evil creature. Tindómëtir cuffed him hard across the face; Legolas stumbled only to be dragged upright by the thin elf's cruel strength as he manhandled him out of the room and down the damp corridor. They halted before a thick set wooden door which the dark elf proceeded to open.

"This is what happens, little prince, when you do not do as you are told," Tindómëtir smirked, throwing him to the broken stone beside the still form sprawled on the ground.

The prince scuttled away from the body, disgusted and horrified, his stomach turning over with nausea. But as his stomach settled, macabre curiosity overcame him and he leaned forward to try to glimpse the limp figure's face, a cold lump in his throat. He uttered a small cry and collapsed beside his friend, recognizing the gentle face in the dim radiance.

"Haldir," he whimpered, his voice abruptly caught in his throat as he glanced over his friend's oddly angled shoulder and saw the horrible dark purplish bruises marring the pale skin and the splintered remnants of what looked like wood. Legolas swallowed hard, feeling the bile rise in his mouth.

He whirled back towards the door, red hot anger burning in his small body. Unconsciously, his hands clenched into fists, longing to strike the horrible one who had done this. Tears of anger and sorrow stung his eyes but he did not allow them to fall.

Not for him.

Tindómëtir still stood there in the doorway, watching him with a small, satisfied smirk on his thin face. Without a word, he turned away from the heat of the elf-prince's eyes and swung the door shut behind him.

With the loud thud of the door, Legolas felt his anger drain away and cold fear rush in to take its place as he turned back towards his friend. Horrid, gut-wrenching dread squeezed his chest.

One by one, he began to dig out the shards of stone and splinters deeply embedded in Haldir's flesh with shaking hands. It seemed to take forever and his fingers were smeared with blood when he was finished but Haldir had made no move and his eyes had not opened.

"Please, Haldir- I'm so sorry- everything I said… Oh, please wake up," Legolas pleaded softly, shaking his shoulder urgently.

But Haldir did not move. He lay so still and so quiet on the sharp-toothed rocks of the floor; his golden hair fallen limply over his face, shimmering in the dim light. He looked so peaceful as to be almost asleep- except his eyes were closed. The young elf, looking down at his serene face, thought him dead. Tears slipped from his eyes at last and fell on Haldir's face as the prince leaned over him, listening for breath and hearing none.

"You promised," Legolas whispered, slumping beside his friend, staring tearfully at his still face. "You promised."

Heartbroken, the little prince lay down, draping one of Haldir's limp cold arms over himself. He didn't know what he held onto any more. What kept him here? For the first time since this entire affair had started, Legolas wished he could die.

His last words to his friend had been ones of hate.

Chapter Text

They slipped through the shadows and the dark ways of the palace. Few knew of these corridors and it was the safest way the Queen could think of to get them at least out of the palace for a little. She went herself, despite the danger. No other could she trust to this task. Before them a small arched door was set well into the stone wall, shielded from sight until one actually came upon it. It was here they waited anxiously for news.

"Your Majesty!" A voice gasped, the door creaking open from the outside unexpectedly. A blast of cold air followed after it before the shadowed figure slipped inside and shut it behind him.

Anariel spun about as Rinniad stumbled and nearly fell into her arms. His face was scratched, his tunic torn and dirtied.

"My father came. They're here," he hissed in a frantic whisper that only she could hear. "They're awaiting your orders."

"Go to them, Rinniad. Wait with the others," Her gaze flickered to Rameil and Ancadal who stood watchfully by.

"Go with him. Assemble them as well as you may- I will be there shortly."

"Will you be all right?" Rameil asked, lingering in the doorway. She nodded brusquely and shoved him out into the cold, locking the gate quickly behind her before hurrying back up towards the living corridors.

Unseen and unheard, a thin shadow detached itself from the wall, gazing down the passage the Queen had gone.

Fools, he thought. They were playing right into his hands.

Anariel stole furtively down the halls to her rooms to gather her cloak. The passages were empty and silent but she could practically feel the eyes itching along her skin. She knew they watched her every move, waiting for her to give them any reason to get rid of her. She was thankful when she at last reached the sanctuary of her chamber.

She closed the door behind her and turned the key in the lock, taking a deep steadying breath as she tried to calm her shaking hands. There was more than one way out of her chambers and she would rather take that than steal through the vacant halls of her home again.

"Where have you been?"

She jumped and whirled round, her heart hammering in her chest.

A slight condescending smile on his tight-lipped face, Ainan gazed up at her from his languorous seat on the edge of her bed.

Disconcerted, Anariel answered tremulously, forcing her face to show nothing of her discomfort. She decided to play it safe and responded as close to the truth as she dared get.

"I went for a walk in my gardens."

"I summoned you and you did not come to me," he retorted.

"I-I was weary…"

"And yet you still found the energy in you to walk to the gardens and back?" he questioned lightly with a knowing glint in his eyes.

Anariel felt a chill through her soul but kept her face carefully devoid of emotion though she knew her brother would see it in her eyes. He knew her too well. Her gaze darted around the room like a bird trapped in too small a cage. She had just locked the door at her back but she dared not move now to unlock it, knowing her brother would hear and guess her intent. He rose slowly and she tensed but he moved to the fireplace which had been lit in her absence. Her ladies-in-waiting were nowhere to be seen.

Absently fiddling with the wick of a candle, Ainan faced his back to her, the flickering orange light glancing in his glittering eyes.

"You do not know what you do when you raise a hand against me." His tone was light but Anariel heard the warning in it, and the darker threat masked by it.

"I know not what you mean," she answered calmly, settling in his vacated spot and folding her hands tightly to still their trembling.

"Do you not?" He looked at her, a close, searching gaze that she turned hastily away from.

"You hold many lives in your hands, Anariel. Think. How many could be ended before this night?" he whispered softly, leaving the candle and taking a step closer to her. "How many are you willing to send to Mandos' Halls for judgment? Can you be responsible for that? For their blood on your hands?"

"I do not know what you speak of," she repeated a little more forcefully even as cold dread clutched at her heart.

"Or your son's?" he added lazily.

She stiffened.

"What have you done to my son?"

"Name me King," he rejoined as though he hadn't heard her. "If you do not dissent, the people will be more kindly disposed towards me and I shall forget the insult you have given me."

Her face flooded with indignation and rising anger. He saw it and his eyes flashed, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss.

"Refuse me, lady, and I swear to you the next time you see your son will be in Mandos' Halls."

Anariel felt her heart clench. Without her son, her kingdom was lost and yet if she gave up her people, her kingdom was still lost. How could he ask her to make such a choice?

"Your people or your only child. Love or duty. It's not a hard question, Anariel," he smiled at the obvious longing and fear that edged across her face.

"I want to see my son," she answered boldly.

His smile broadened.

"Of course."

Reaching into his sleeve, he pressed a golden lock of horrifyingly familiar hair into her palm. She stared at it for a long moment, her blue eyes filling with tears but she forced them back and looked up into his implacable face.

"Where is my son?" she demanded coldly, her face a mask of fury.

"You are so very beautiful when you are angry, dear sister," he remarked as he cupped her cheek. She threw him off and rose, eyes blazing, a she-panther closing in for the kill.

"Where is he, Ainan?"

Ainan smirked openly.

"He is safer than you are, little mother. Mostly."

She lunged at him but he was ready for her, stepping nimbly aside with an agility that belied his long and heavy robes. As he caught hold of her wrist, he threw her onto the bed and seized her shoulders, pinioning her arms to her sides with his knees, effectively trapping her beneath him. For a fleeting instant, she stared up at him and real fear shone in her eyes.

His golden hair hung about his shoulders, falling into his burning eyes and brushing her cheeks. She closed her eyes, her entire body rigid.

Suddenly her wrist flashed up, a dagger snapping out. He leapt aside like a cat, dropping to the floor and rolling to his feet in one swift movement. As she quickly sprang up with the bed between them, she could have sworn she had heard him hiss at her.

He leapt towards her clear over the bed and struck her hard across the face before she could bring up her weapon to defend herself. She reeled and fell heavily, cracking her head on the wooden dresser before crumpling to the floor. He immediately kicked the blade into a corner far from her reach.

But she did not move.

Ainan calmly lowered his arm, shaking his head slowly, chest heaving. She should have listened to him. Blood ran from just beneath her split temple where it had hit the corner of the dresser. Gently, he brushed back a lock of golden hair that had fallen across her face while his fingers searched her neck for a pulse. He straightened in satisfaction. She would live. He gazed down at her limp body coolly, adjusting his rumpled sleeve a little.

"Then you refuse."

There was a murmur of confusion in the air. Many of the elves had just returned from their posts and knew little or nothing of what had been happening of late. They waited under the silver moon in a wide clearing chased by cloud shadows as the trees creaked in the bitter wind.

"The last news we received from the palace was to stay at our posts and search for our King." Sarithan, the captain of the border guard, told Rameil in a low, anxious voice.

"The King is here- imprisoned in his own palace. Ainan has turned recreant against us."

Sarithan stared at him in disbelief for a full moment then cast his glance away thoughtfully. When he raised his head, his eyes were hard and flinty.

"What must we do?"

Other soldiers stood nearby, uneasy and gripping the hilts of their swords or the hafts of their bows.

"Where is she?"

"She has not come."

The Queen had been gone for a long while now. Too long. Apprehension gripped his stomach as Ancadal paced nervously back and forth. The night-chilled wind blew cold right through his tunic, biting with a fierceness that even he could feel. Silver light fell revealingly down upon them standing in the wind-swept clearing. It was too dangerous to remain out here for long but it would be even more so to try to get into the palace.

Letting Rameil take care of it, Ancadal walked away from the battery of questions and the troubled frowns. Heaving a deep breath, he looked about their temporary sanctuary, frustration at the delay boiling through his veins. He hated all of this waiting. His friend was in danger, the prince; the kingdom was falling down around them.

Breaking off his thoughts, Ancadal lifted his head and his eyes caught a flash of red among the grey pillars of the tree trunks. Creeping forward silently through the thigh length grass, he drew his sword with a whisper, adrenaline humming through his veins.

"Dartho! (Halt!)" he commanded, leveling his sword at the hidden eavesdropper's neck. The figure stepped out to meet him and he lowered his sword automatically with a relieved smile.

"My lady, you come to us again in our hour of need."

Their messenger smiled a tight-lipped smile, devoid of either welcome or joy.

"Again. And at the cost of my life." The hooded woman looked up, a fiery glint of her hair sliding free of her cowl.

"I know where they are."

At first he didn't feel the warm body nestled against him. So deeply had he pulled back inside himself that it took him a disoriented minute to realize that there was another person in the room with him. Slowly, Haldir opened his eyes and immediately wished he had not as a sudden nauseating vertigo seized him. He closed his eyes again and rolled over, hissing as sharp pain bit into his back.

Feeling him shift, Legolas spun about, his face slack with astonishment.

"Haldir, are you all right? I thought…"

Haldir squinted up at him in frowning puzzlement, dazed and unsettled.

He felt horribly thirsty and his throat hurt but he couldn't remember why. Until memory flooded back as he glanced around at the bare stone floor littered with bloodstained shards. His stunned gaze returned to the young prince and shifted just as quickly away. He couldn't meet the younger elf's anxious, searching gaze.

"Can you ever forgive me, Legolas?" he asked bare-facedly in a very low voice. Legolas looked at him in shock.

"Forgive you, Haldir? What for?"

Haldir opened his mouth but shook his head. How could he even speak aloud all the things he had done? What the little prince had suffered because of him? Nothing would ever make that right. He knew it.

"I… I couldn't protect you. I promised. And I couldn't…" he trailed off, unable to trust his voice to keep steady.

He began to shake and suddenly he felt thin arms wrap around his neck as the prince threw his arms around his neck, pressing against him to try to still his awful trembling.

Legolas buried his nose into the crook of his friend's warm neck, feeling the muscles twitching under his hands. He had never seen Haldir like this- even in the cave, when they feared that he might die.

And it scared him.

Haldir closed his eyes, scooting closer to the young prince's warm body. He was so cold. So cold. Colder than any elf should be. The wind screamed through the slit in their small prison and it was warmer in the far corner but he did not want to let Legolas go.

The pain in his shoulder had receded to a dull, throbbing ache but he knew he would have to pop it back into place somehow if he ever wanted to use that arm again. He couldn't move it and he certainly couldn't ask Legolas to do it for him. The young elf had been traumatized enough already. Haldir wouldn't put him through that.

"You should forgive me," the prince murmured, still pressed against his friend's shoulder. He pulled back slightly to look up into his face, staring at the cut on the older elf's lip. Haldir laughed somewhat humorlessly.

"I've certainly had worse, Legolas," he winced as he spoke and Legolas' eyes darted down to where he could see raw striped marks on the older elf's wrists. Friction burns from the leather straps used to bind his hands.

Haldir tried to keep the roughness from his voice, attempting not to frighten the prince more than he already seemed to be. His throat was unbearably tight, attempting to choke back the muffled whimpers he felt building at the back of his throat. The bruises to his ribs, back, chest and arms were really beginning to demand his attention and he was running low on his drastically depleted energy. He could not remember a time when he had felt this tired- as though he hadn't slept in ages. But he dared not now. Those heavy blows to his head still made his vision blur and he feared that if he fell asleep, he would not awaken.

They sat silent with Legolas leaning against Haldir's uninjured shoulder. There was nothing they could do but wait. Wait for death, it seemed for Ainan would surely not let them live beyond this day.

He had won.

Legolas drifted into a half-doze at his side, despite his best efforts to remain awake. He had not slept properly in days and his exhausted, grief-weighted mind could bear no more. Haldir knew he must be completely worn out and felt mixed relief and sorrow that the prince could sleep in so horrible place like this on the hard, uncomfortable stone. The Lórien captain struggled not to fall asleep himself and found his head falling down onto his chest more than once only to be jerked upright immediately. He couldn't let his guard down. Not here. Not again.

His vigilance was rewarded nearly an hour later.

The bolt slid sharply back, startling Legolas into wakefulness. They both looked towards the portal, muscles tensing in fear and anticipation.

Tindómëtir smirked lightly but spoke no word, the blackened hardwood stick still in hand, its tip stained with dried blood.

Haldir felt Legolas shrink against him in terror and he felt his own soul shudder deeply with rage. His fear had been washed away with his blood. This elf meant to kill him but Haldir would damn himself to the Void before he let him touch Legolas.

Not again.

But a chill of absolute dread froze his limbs as another followed in after the dark elf. He felt Legolas stiffen beside him and out of the corner of his eye, saw the blood drain from the prince's face. He shifted his head back around and felt his breath catch in his chest as Ainan stared down at him with dark, glittering eyes, a long torch in his hand, his heavy robes sweeping the floor. There was a sword girded at his hip.

"Still alive I see," he remarked coolly, thrusting the torch into a bracket beside the doorway. He stepped past the hanging restraints dangling from the ceiling and Legolas quailed back, pressing close against Haldir's side. The older elf put his arm around him. Ainan laughed at this pathetic attempt and tossed his head over his shoulder at Tindómëtir.

The dark elf stalked forward and grabbed Haldir's arm, trying to wrest him from the young prince. But Legolas clung on tightly, unwilling to let him go. Snarling, Tindómëtir brought the hardwood sticking cracking down on the crook of his elbow and Legolas recoiled with a yelp. The dark elf let the stick fall again and the prince scuttled away from it, curling up in the corner as tightly as he could.

Haldir fought desperately to get at him but the pole smashed against his wounded shoulder and he jerked forward with a groan as a flash of pain ripped across his nerves like red hot knives. That was all it took. Tindómëtir seized him by the hair and dragged him backwards, wrestling him back into his leathern restraints. He strained against them but pain shot through his shoulder and he stilled his movements, trembling with anger and agony.

Ainan clapped him on the shoulder with a thin smile.

"So stalwart our Captain of Lórien."

He drew closer to the shaking form of the young prince in the corner.

"Leave him be, you coward!" Haldir spat.

Ainan ignored him but Tindómëtir gave him a reprimanding cuff.

The light-haired elf crouched beside the little prince who pressed his shoulder tightly against the wall, trying to present as small a target as possible as he shut his eyes tightly, as though by doing so he could make the threat before him disappear. Ainan clucked disapprovingly and grasped Legolas' chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing the prince to turn his head.

Legolas jerked away as though his uncle's touch burned him. Ainan glanced over at Tindómëtir who gave Haldir a hefty smack with the stick, causing him to gasp in pain.

Legolas opened his eyes, flickering to his uncle's face before darting away again.

Glancing down, he saw scarlet smearing his uncle's hands and his stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably. Ainan noticed.

"That is your mother's blood on my hands," he said quietly so that only they two could hear as he held his hands up before the prince. "And there are far worse things that could happen to her, little one, if you attempt to escape or disobey me again. Le henich? (Do you understand?)"

Legolas nodded, fear shivering his soul. He knew all too well what happened when he disobeyed.

"Good. Renich, tôrion. (Remember, nephew.)" He cut a sideways glance at Haldir and Legolas followed his gaze, his own stricken.

"It is a pity, nephew. Your callous carelessness has already cost so much," Ainan shook his head as though he were disappointed. But wicked glee kindled in his eyes. "I promised you punishment, did I not?" A small whimper caught in the back of the prince's throat and his eyes widened. He could not take anymore pain; he already felt torn in two, emotionally and physically.

Watching him under hooded lids, Ainan laid a finger to his lips thoughtfully.

"Hmmm. Whatever shall I do with you? Or perhaps…" He rose easily to his feet and paced closer to Haldir whose steel hard eyes latched onto his fearlessly. Ainan smiled at his defiance. "Perhaps, I shall have to find something fun for you. Would you like that, Legolas?" he shot a sardonic glance over his shoulder at Legolas who stared numbly back at him.

"Perhaps he will take the beating you so justly deserve."

The evil elf paced slowly round Haldir who twitched uncomfortably as he felt those eyes on him, appraising the welts and cuts on his back. Ainan's eyes widened over Haldir's shoulder and he shook his head in mock-horror.

"I don't think he'll be able to take much more."

He crouched beside Legolas again.

"You know he cares for you more than his own life," his uncle told him quietly, his dark eyes flaring. "After I have dealt with your father, I believe I shall execute him next just to see if it kills you."

"My father?" Legolas gasped, his head shooting up, frustration and horror stinging his eyes and tearing at his throat.

Ainan merely smiled and touched the prince's cheek with a bloodstained hand, swiping away the brimming tears as Legolas shied away, shuddering deeply in fear and anger and helplessness.

"Don't worry, tôrion. I shall be back for you."

He walked away, pausing at the door with a villainous smile as he turned to his servant.

"Leave them alive. I want them to witness my final triumph."

Tindómëtir prowled closer as the door swung shut behind his master, a mad light springing into his eyes as they moved to settle on the young prince who shrank away from his gaze.

"How long do you think he'll last Haldir as I break every bone in his little body?" he taunted as he swung the blackened stick carelessly. "He'll live just long enough."

"You will not touch him," Haldir snarled, though he knew he could do little with his hands bound.

Tindómëtir threw his head back and laughed so hard the stones rang.

"I will not touch him? Is that an order, Captain?" he chuckled, actually wiping tears from his eyes. "I think you will find that I give the orders here." He said, his voice sinking to a dangerous growl as he moved forward, a lethal smile on his face.

His merriment cut abruptly short as the door suddenly smashed open, rebounding off the wall.

Tindómëtir whirled, eyes wide and hand flying to the long knife at his belt.

He blocked Rameil's first stroke and shoved the elf stumbling backwards nearly out of the door. Rameil caught himself on the door post and dodged aside as the dark elf flung his knife straight at the other's face. He felt the breath of it kiss his cheek and a sharp pain erupt through his ear. But the reassuring clang of steel on stone galvanized him across the room.

Blood ran down his temple, congealing in his hair from his clipped ear but he shook it off and brought his sword around in a sideways sweep with the flat of the blade. He only wanted to immobilize the dark elf, not kill him. The King would be the judge of that.

The hard knobbed pole swung and caught the blow of the sword, turning it aside. Rameil leapt backwards as the butt end of the stick snapped out at him, catching him hard in the side and nearly spinning him around. Forcing aside the throbbing pain in his ribs, Rameil thrust his sword forward again and the dark elf leapt aside to avoid it.

Caught off-balance by the lack of resistance, Rameil stumbled forward. Thinking fast, he dropped to the ground as the pole whistled chillingly over his head. He rolled to his feet, forsaking his sword and seized a tight hold of the weapon, wrestling with its wielder for control. The other elf was lighter and smaller than he and, a sudden idea struck him.

Rameil dropped unexpectedly to one knee, yanking backwards with all of his strength while bringing his other foot up. His boot thumped solidly into Tindómëtir's chest and sent the dark elf hurtling over his head, landing with a painful thud against the wall on the further side of the room.

The Rivendell elf leapt almost immediately to his feet, twisting round to face him with his adversary's weapon in hand.

Tindómëtir staggered up, disarmed and dazed. Blood ran from a cut on his forehead where it had struck the stone and his fingers were skinned and raw. His hands worked furiously as though he longed to wrap them around the other elf's throat. A mad light sprang into his eyes as he dove for his dropped knife with a hiss. Ramiel lunged forward to shield his commander and the prince as the dark elf twisted round again. With a snarl, he thrust forward with the blade, lost to his fury.

But the pole was longer than the reach of the knife.

Rameil met him head-on and laid him flat with a hard rap. The pole smashed into the dark elf's shoulder and caught the side of his head. The crushing force snapped the pole in half and Tindómëtir's neck wrenched sharply to one side as he crumpled to the floor. Splinters dug into his palms but Rameil, tossing the weapon aside, disregarded it as he quickly undid the restraints that held his friend.

Haldir thrust aside his subordinate's helping hands and knelt beside Legolas, his wounds screaming as he did so.

"Legolas, are you all right?" he gasped, gripping the younger elf's forearms as the prince stared numbly up at him. His shocked eyes flickered towards the door as Ancadal appeared in it, his own eyes wide. He stared down at the prone elf on the floor and then back up at his friend whose chest was heaving with exertion and blood running down his cheek.

"Well done," he congratulated him.

Rameil shook his head with a small smile and wiped his face on his sleeve.

"I don't think I killed him," he said wincing as he touched his ear with a snort of disgust as he looked down at the dark elf's limp body.

"Pity."

"Your timing is impeccable," Haldir added dryly, rising to his feet with difficulty

Seeing him grimace, Ancadal grabbed his arm to help him. Haldir flinched as the younger elf's fingers pressed on a large darkening bruise beneath the skin. He was very tender and sore and felt every ache in his body. Bending stiffly, he plucked his discarded tunic from the corner, tossing it over his uninjured shoulder.

Then he turned to help Legolas up. He smiled reassuringly into the prince's white face. Ainan's treachery had betrayed him and given the prince into the hands of his enemies.

Ancadal approached him, his fair face troubled as he looked over his friend, noticing the weariness in his eyes.

"You are hurt."

Haldir shook his head, wanting but unable to turn his face away from that searching gaze and reveal more of the torment he'd endured to his friends. They'd seen enough. Been through enough. They didn't need to worry about him as well.

He fumbled with the shirt, unable to pull it on because of his shoulder. Ancadal went to his side and helped him pull it carefully over his shoulders. Haldir winced as the fabric chafed against his reopened wounds as Ancadal hissed in sympathy at the sight of the gashes and black bruises decorating his friend's back.

"There's nothing you can do for them, Ancadal," he said to the younger elf who was flittering nervously around him, examining him.

Rameil's sharp eyes caught how his friend favored his arm and he took him aside.

"But there is something we can do for that shoulder," he said quietly.

Haldir glanced over his subordinate's head to where Legolas stood in the corner, gazing at Tindómëtir's senseless body with Ancadal at his side.

"Do it quickly."

The Rivendell elf complied taking his friend's arm delicately and suddenly wrenching down and inwards.

Haldir cried out and bit his tongue to stifle it.

Legolas spun around, his eyes wide with fear and shock at his friend's cry of pain. Anxiously, he rushed to him as Ancadal spun around, confused and alarmed. Haldir shook his head, rolling his shoulder with a slight grimace.

"I'm all right, Legolas," he reassured him with a grateful glance at his friend. Rameil stepped back into the doorway and peered out into the corridor.

"There is no one there. We should go now."

Haldir nodded in agreement, picking up his sword from where Tindómëtir had thrown it, relieved that it had not been defiled or damaged.

Tindómëtir groaned softly, beginning to regain his senses. Ancadal gave him a hard kick to quiet him.

"What should we do with him, sir?" he asked. Haldir shot a glance down at the dark elf.

"Leave him. The sooner we get out of here the better."

"I can't go with you."

"What?" All three of the other elves turned to him but Legolas kept his eyes fastened on the floor.

"I can't go with you," he repeated.

"Legolas-"

"He'll kill her Haldir, I know it. He'll kill my mother!" Legolas cried out frantically, his heart pounding in his chest and his throat tight. Haldir knelt next to him, taking his upper arms soothingly.

"Legolas, he can't hurt her anymore. We won't let him." He looked steadily up into the prince's wide eyes. "But you have to trust us first. I will not leave you here."

The prince stared at him, wild-eyed.

"Haldir, my father…"

"I know, Legolas. We're going to find him. We can't give up now," Haldir spoke determinedly, praying that they would be able to find the King in time before Ainan made good on his dark promises. They only had a few hours at most. Each and every minute was precious and they were falling rapidly away like a springlet over a stone lip.

Chapter Text

Haldir sighed aggravatedly, tugging the corners of the cloak tighter about his form as he shifted uncomfortably on the hard stone. Strips of dried venison and water had been provided them as they huddled in a dark corner but the waiting was worse than the hollow pit of hunger in his stomach. This was taking too long! He thought furiously, glancing over at the heatedly debating group. The border guardians were confused and frightened, finding that their home had been invaded in their absence, eager to seek out kindred and wives, sons, daughters to ensure their safety.

There was no time.

The words drifted in and out of his hearing as he wavered somewhere between sleeping and waking. The exhaustion had rushed in after the adrenaline, leaving his body cold and heavy. Dimly, he heard the soft arguments a few feet away which Rameil did his best to parry.

"Where is the Queen?"

"Who gave you the authority over us?"

"What is going on?"

Every so often, if Haldir chanced to look up, he would see a furtive glance in his direction, mingled wonder and horror in astonished eyes. The guardians had been given only the bare bones about what had happened to their monarchs, their families, their lives.

He sighed again and glanced over at Legolas who sat near him, his head cast down in deeply troubled thought. He too was anxious to find his father and his friend if indeed they still lived. Ainan had said when he had 'dealt' with the King… what did that mean? He shuddered to think.

Haldir rose slowly to his feet; his legs trembled but thankfully held him. However, his back felt as though every nerve was on fire and every cut poured burning agony but he could not sit still anymore.

Legolas looked up at him but quickly dropped his eyes, swiping a strand of loose, matted hair out of his eyes. Haldir felt badly for he had not spoken to the young elf since they had been freed from their imprisonment; too much had happened and he was still trying to absorb it all. He did care for him deeply and prayed that whatever happened tonight, Legolas would live and remain safe from his uncle's hands.

Casting another nervous glance around the dark hidden cavern they had cloistered themselves in for the meantime, he saw Ancadal striding towards him with a softly burning lantern swinging from one hand, a half-eaten hunk of bread in the other. He set the lantern down beside Legolas with a smile and straightened, turning to his friend.

Haldir hastily averted his gaze, afraid what the other elf would see in his eyes. He was grateful for the cloak and the semi-darkness that hindered the elves' full sight of his bruised and torn body. He had no intention of explaining his new set of welts and bruises to his friends. Not yet at least.

"What news?" he asked.

Ancadal shook his head with a disgusted snort; he, too, was very anxious but the guards stubbornly refused to move without the word of their Queen. The young elf of Lórien was worried- Anariel had said she would meet them long ago and she had not yet reappeared.

What if something had happened to her? What were they to do?

"Someone has to take charge. They won't listen," he said, shrugging his shoulders hopelessly.

Haldir glanced over at the gathered elves, many were talking among themselves and Rameil stood, fending off the questions of more. He noticed that one stood taller than the rest and his tunic was more richly embroidered than the others. An officer of some sort, he guessed, making his way over to him.

"Sir," Haldir addressed him. "We cannot linger here. Your Kingdom is in the gravest danger." There was no time to soften the blow; he had to be blunt.

The elf appraised him silently. The border guards had heard of Ainan's lies about the elves of Lothlórien and his eyes were narrowed with suspicion. But Sarithan had not trusted the Queen's brother since he had first arrived three years ago and he would make his judgments for himself. Sarithan nodded for him to continue.

"So we have heard. But what can we do? Where is Her Majesty?"

"I do not know," Haldir answered truthfully. "But we cannot wait for her. There are prisoners near here that need our help- your captain of the Royal Guard is one of them."

"Why were they imprisoned?" Sarithan demanded, outrage clear on his face. Tirien was a good friend of his.

"For doing their duties to their people and their King. For fighting against a tyrant who will stain the very palace itself with spilt blood if we do not make haste," Haldir answered evenly. "We must waste no time and free them."

Sarithan gazed at him a moment longer than turned abruptly to his troops. With a word, he silenced them then turned back to Haldir with an encouraging nod, a hard glitter in his eyes.

"Tell us what we must do."

"Beyond all hope we meet again," Tirien greeted him through the bars of his cell. He certainly looked the worse for wear, scourged and beaten but a light kindled in his eyes as Rameil unlocked his cell door.

"They would have killed us," the elven guard whispered, staring up at him with unspeakable relief. Anyone was better than Ainan and the dark one that followed at his heels.

Rameil felt his heart clench with pity for these poor souls as he examined the iron staples that held the chains to the wall. Drawing his knife, he jammed it between the stone and the iron link and tugged and wrestled with it for many long minutes, slowly clawing at the tough mortar until he nearly snapped the tip off his blade. Sarithan, walking in beside him, aided him on the other side. Finally they loosened it just enough. Sheathing their knives again, the dark-haired elf grasped the chain firmly, set his foot to the wall and yanked back hard with Sarithan tugging on the other side.

The chains tore free from the wall with a scraping clunk and both staggered backwards, the length of iron swinging from his hands. They dropped the heavy fetters to the floor and Sarithan offered the guard captain a hand which was gladly taken.

From then on, they worked as quickly as possible, spreading rapidly to the other cell. Rameil's fingers were sore and aching from prying loose mortar and stone by the time they were done but thankfully they had not been discovered yet. They still had a bit of time though he keenly felt the minutes slipping away.

The long-enclosed prisoners blinked heavily as ones awakened from a dream to find that the sun is shining brightly. They were more than ready to help the rebellion, despite their pain and hunger. Their anger at the elven traitor that had brought such suffering upon their people roused them as nothing else could. They clamored for weapons and the face of the false king and it took Sarithan and the rest of his guard to calm them. Any of Ainan's guards that had lingered quickly fled at the sight of the vengeful prisoners, now freed from their chains. They took off as if the Nine were on their heels, fleeing into the darkness. Several even willingly surrendered their weapons and joined the ranks of the growing insurrection.

Haldir smiled as confidently as he could. Now they at least had a chance. With proper timing, they might be able to find King Thranduil in time.

Gazing around at all of those familiar faces he had known since childhood, Legolas felt a pang in his heart for how much they had suffered. Just like him, they had been trapped down here with no knowledge of their family or friends, or even if they themselves would live beyond this night. Several recognized him but he did not speak to them, instead, he trotted forward and looked up at the tall guard with a sorrowful gaze. Tirien caught his eyes and sighed in relief, ruffling the prince's hair affectionately.

"My prince, thank heaven you are safe! I feared the worst," he smiled in relief.

Legolas licked dry lips and momentarily closed his eyes, hot, bubbling guilt and sorrow boiling in the pit of his stomach.

"I-I didn't tell you… Lóthmir…" He mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Tirien," Legolas said, his face crumbling as he looked up at his friend's father.

"It was no fault of yours, Legolas," the guard said kindly, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder though his brows contracted with worry. "You had nothing to do with my son's… disappearance." Long had he agonized over the fate of his son as his tormentors sought to break him with that knowledge. "I have to believe he's still alive," Tirien murmured.

Legolas finally found the courage to look up at him and meet the elven soldier's eyes. "I didn't want this to happen."

Tirien smiled mournfully and touched his shoulder gently. "None of us did, my boy. None of us wanted any of this to happen."

Rameil looked over at them. Tirien's gaze was downcast, his eyes fixed on the ground.

"My son is missing…" the guard captain explained tersely. "I have to find him. He's still alive…. I know it," his voice broke and he shook his head. Rameil looked at him compassionately as he laid a hand on the guard's shoulder.

"We shall look for him."

Haldir nodded his agreement.

"Rameil, Ancadal, you go with Tirien and Sarithan and his patrol- look for Lóthmir but you must arm yourselves as well. Ainan will not give in easily."

Haldir had thrown the mantle of command over his shoulders at last and his eyes were bright and fierce as he gazed around at those assembled around him. There was no time for hesitation now. To hesitate would mean death.

He agreed to meet them in three quarters of an hour in the cellars where Ainan would likely have placed the least amount of guards and they would have some semblance of peace and security to make a plan. He beckoned Legolas to follow him as the others set off down the corridor.

"Where are we going?" Legolas asked, falling into step beside Haldir as he broke off from the main group and headed down a side passage.

"We are going to find a safe place to keep you until this is over."

Legolas stopped dead.

"No! I'm not going to hide!" he protested volubly. Haldir turned and looked at him. "Leave me somewhere and I will follow you, Haldir, I swear I will."

Without arguing, Haldir seized the young prince by the arm.

"Come on."

The labyrinthine passages of the palace twisted and turned before them and the now-familiar dark pressed against their eyes like a smothering blanket. The group made their forward silently and Rameil recognized the vast chamber near to the prisons that he had passed through once before. They were beside the underground stream which tumbled down a steep tunnel to join the Forest River under the open sky.

As they drew closer, torches kindled as though by magic, lighting their path down the shallow stairs. The weak light suddenly blinded them after so long a time in the darkness. With their forearms lifted to shield their eyes from the sudden, painful light, they blinked in astonishment. When his vision had cleared of the popping sparks, Rameil lowered his arm and squinted into the dim chamber.

A figure started in shock and surprise and the barrel he had been carrying thudded loudly to the floor.

Tirien walked forward with a smile. Galion the butler looked as though he couldn't believe his eyes at the group of battered and disheveled elves walking towards him seemingly out of nowhere.

"My old friend," Tirien greeted him with a smile.

"Can it be you, Tirien? I had heard you were…" But the butler did not finish his sentence and merely shook his head with a returning grin. "Glad am I to see you alive my friend," the head servant clasped his old comrade's hand fervently. "I haven't tasted a drop since-"

"Quickly, Galion! There is no time for speech. We need weapons- now," Tirien interrupted, slapping his friend on the shoulder. The butler blinked in surprise. But the urgency of the situation sunk in fast as he glanced at those gathered behind his friend.

"They left them here; we didn't know what to do with them," he said, shifting aside empty barrels and prying open crates lying stacked against the back wall.

The former prisoners crowded round and drew long swords from their black sheaths, tested the strength of bowstrings and arrows. Tirien smiled grimly at the irony. Ainan's own weapons were benefiting those fighting against him. Galion hovered around them anxiously, eyeing the gleaming swords and grim expressions warily.

"Tirien, what's happening? Are we at war?"

The captain of the guard strung his bow with a grim smile.

"Go back to your wine, my gentle friend," he said. "Dark times are upon us now."

The butler looked away somberly, heading back towards the storeroom. He glanced around, spotting another barrel in the shadows near the open trapdoor that led to the stream.

Absentmindedly, looking down into the open pit as he turned the barrel onto its side, he gasped, his brow furrowing in bemusement. For the first time, he noticed that there was a thin sliver of metal bolted in one corner of the trap door, nigh invisible against the dark-stained stone. Attached to it, fell a long chain, dangling into darkness, towards the frigid depths of the river. Galion tugged on it experimentally and grunted in surprise; it was weighted.

"There is something here!" Galion shouted back over his shoulder as he pulled on the chain again. It was very heavy. Hearing his cry, Rameil came running and helped the head servant pull the limp thing up.

They nearly dropped the chain in shock when they saw what came up through that dark mouth.

"Lóthmir," Rameil breathed, recognizing the young child instantaneously; he looked so much like his father. Galion shot a sharp look at him and immediately knelt and put his arms around the child, pulling him up from that horrible hole. The shackles that had sliced circular cuts into his wrists were knotted cruelly tight and Galion had to borrow Rameil's dagger to cut them carefully free without injuring the child further.

The poor boy was ashen grey and his skin felt icy cold and damp to the touch as Galion brushed a hand over his brow, shuddering deeply in anger and disgust as he touched the swollen knot at the back of the child's head. Someone had struck him. Hard. Dried blood matted in his hair and his clothes were torn and bloodstained. He had not been beaten as severely as Legolas, Rameil noted. But he had been hurt and starved. So still and peaceful he looked… Rameil swallowed hard, fearing that they had found him too late.

"Is he…? Does he…?" He couldn't even ask the question to which he dreaded the answer. Galion bent over him anxiously, listening at his mouth and placing a careful hand on his chest.

"He lives," he answered, breathing an audible sigh of relief.

"Praise the Valar." Rameil closed his eyes thankfully, re-opening them when the young elf coughed weakly, his chest shuddering as he struggled to breathe properly after being suspended by his wrists for so long. The poor child was near death with cold and hunger and his eyes were closed tightly. He had been down here a long time and the dark-haired elf could see the outline of his ribs poking from beneath the filthy, ragged tunic he yet wore. Galion shook him gently to rouse him a little more.

The reaction was alarming.

Lóthmir pulled away with a small cry, curling in on himself protectively.

"Please, please!" he sobbed. "I-I didn't say a word! Please don't hurt Legolas! I swear I didn't say a word!"

"Shh, tithen," Rameil soothed, pulling the boy further away from the ledge as anger burned within him at the monster who had done this. "We're here to help you- no one's going to hurt Legolas or you anymore."

The young elf's head shot up out of his arms, staring at the elves around him with wide, unseeing eyes for a long moment.

"I am dreaming," he whispered wonderingly, his voice hoarse and disbelieving.

"It is no dream, little one. You're free," Galion said gently.

Rameil squeezed his shoulder silently. Lóthmir suddenly hurtled up and clung to him trembling with a mixture of terror and relief; Rameil could feel the tears soaking through his tunic as he stroked his hair soothingly.

"It's all right, tithen. He cannot hurt you anymore." Hot tears stung the older elf's eyes and he quickly blinked them back before they had a chance to fall. How he hated to see these children suffer so! And he vowed that the villain responsible would pay- and dearly.

"Lóthmir!"

Tirien bolted towards his son, snatching him up in his arms with tears streaming shamelessly down his cheeks. The young elf embraced him fiercely, sobs wracking his thin body at the sight of his father, the only one he could think about while he lay trapped in that dark hole with the clinking chain and the lapping waters as his only companions, fearing he would die.

"I thought I'd lost you, ion-nin," Tirien whispered, clinging to his son tightly and kissing the top of his head.

"I'm all right, Adar," Lóthmir said, gently releasing his father. "But we have to find Legolas, Adar! He-he was beating Legolas! We have to stop him! We can't let him hurt Legolas anymore!"

Tirien shook his head smiling as he gently rubbed his son's chilled arms anxiously.

"Don't worry, ion-nin. No one will hurt Legolas ever again- he is safe and I will take you to him after we get you warm and fed."

Rameil stood slowly, brushing a hand surreptitiously across his eyes.

"We have to go on. We must find the King and Ainan."

Lóthmir quailed at the name, pressing himself closer into his father's arms. The elven guard hugged his son tightly but he knew his duty. He had to protect the King.

"I will go with you," he said steadily.

Lóthmir looked up at him, determination springing into his eyes.

"I want to go too, Adar- I have to find Legolas," Lóthmir said obstinately.

"No, ion-nin," Tirien remonstrated gently. "I'm going to take you to the healers where you will get some rest after you have eaten. I will bring Legolas to you as soon as we find him."

Lóthmir looked ready to argue but Galion bent in with the air of a diplomat, interrupting the younger elf's protestations before they began.

"I will take him, Tirien."

"Where is everyone?" Legolas asked, looking up and down the empty healers' ward. Haldir shook his head. More than likely, the palace staff was either in hiding for fear of their 'master' or summoned elsewhere. It was troubling but Haldir actually felt a slight relief. Here at least, Legolas would be safe if everyone was thought to be gone. It was the safest place he could think of to take him and the closest.

Moving stiffly, he gathered up a water basin and some bandages he found rolled in a cupboard.

"Let me get you cleaned up a little," Haldir explained, setting the basin on a corner table. Legolas perched uneasily on the bed and pulled off his tunic, wincing as the cloth clung to the dried blood over his wounds.

Though he tried to be gentle, Haldir heard Legolas' muffled whimpers as he cleaned and bandaged the horrible lashes on his back, some of which would have to be stitched but he couldn't do that now. His hands were still stiff and clumsy from being tied up for so long. Silence pressed upon their ears but it was a brooding silence and the dark night outside had not lightened.

"Try to get some sleep all right?" Haldir suggested as he helped the prince into one of the soft feather-stuffed beds.

"I don't want to be alone, Haldir," Legolas whispered, clinging to his hand. Haldir knelt next to the bed, opening his mouth to reply but stiffened and whirled round with a hand on the hilt of his sword. Legolas bolted up, casting frantically about for a weapon.

A light had been struck; he could see the reflection bobbing light upon the wall near the doorway.

"Just a little further," an encouraging voice said.

Haldir's shoulders sagged in relief and he went to the door.

"Galion!" he called in a hoarse whisper.

The butler hurried forward, a lantern dangling from his hand and Haldir raised a forearm to shield his eyes before the servant lowered it apologetically. A dark shape hung back behind him, golden hair glinting in the lamplight.

Looking over the head servant's shoulder, Lóthmir felt his heart stop as he saw Legolas looking up at the doorway. Staggering with hunger, thirst and weariness, the young elf scrambled past Haldir and swooped upon his friend. The older elves pulled back to give them privacy as Legolas froze in shock.

"Oh, Legolas!" The prince winced as his friend drew him into a tight hug but he returned it full force, his own relief causing tears to prick his eyes. His friend was alive!

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know! I didn't know!"

Legolas felt a burning in the back of his mouth as his throat constricted. Gently, he put his friend away from him, skimming his fingers under his friend's eyes to wipe away the tears.

"I know," he said simply. "I know you didn't, Lóthmir. It's all right." The elf shook his head, pulling away.

"No, Legolas! It is most certainly not all right! All this time and you never said a word!" The young prince looked away, longing to steer the subject away from such unpleasantness. Besides, his concerned gaze immediately took in Lóthmir's emaciated and filthy appearance, his heart aching for the pain and lingering terror in his friend's eyes.

"We need to get you help," he said firmly. Lóthmir shrugged it off, eyeing the bandages, clearly visible, wrapped around the young prince's back and chest.

"You are the one who is hurt, mellon-nîn."

Haldir smiled at the two reunited boys and turned back to the servant who set the lantern on the table, casting a wavering glow about the room.

"You will guard them with your life," Haldir charged him, pressing a long knife into his hand. It was best they keep this as quiet as possible for as long as possible. If Ainan discovered that Legolas and Lóthmir as well as the prisoners of the lower dungeons were free, their element of surprise would be lost.

The butler nodded, straightening his shoulders though he looked at the knife as though he had never seen one before. Legolas looked between them, a frown furrowing his brow as he turned a challenging gaze on Haldir.

"Where are you going? Take me with you," the prince reiterated stubbornly.

Haldir immediately denied him.

"I have to find my father and mother!" Legolas near-shouted, his face flushing with indignation and disbelief. "You promised! You promised you wouldn't leave me!" he yelled angrily, nearly stamping his foot in his frustration.

Haldir knelt next to him, grabbing him by the upper arms, staring desperately up into his eyes.

"Legolas, I cannot take you with me."

Legolas obdurately refused to back down.

Hands akimbo, Haldir glared at him in frustration. The prince was as stubborn as he was, despite his wounds and hunger and weariness, he was still willing to go to death with him.

"Legolas, I promised your mother I would keep you safe. If I bring you into battle with me, what does that make of my promise?" he demanded. "Is that fair?"

Sullenly, the elf-prince shook his head.

"Then you will watch over your friend while I am gone."

Legolas nodded.

"Good."

Rising stiffly, Haldir clasped the familiar worn grip of his own sword. He stared down at the two elven children, holding their images in his mind's eye lest it be the last time he ever laid eyes on them again.

"Haldir."

He turned at the doorway. Legolas looked up at him.

"You're coming back right?"

Haldir smiled sadly.

"You can count on it."

Then steeling himself against regret and sorrow, he spun quickly about and walked out of the room.

Chapter Text

Moonlight dappled through the dark blue curtains, spilling onto cream-colored sheets. The silver white light glittered in wide open eyes as Legolas stared out the window. He could not sleep. Nervous butterflies kept skittering around in his stomach and his back hurt too much to find a comfortable position.

"Lóthmir," Legolas whispered through the darkness, propping himself up on his elbows. "Are you awake?"

He heard a soft rustling noise as his friend rolled over to face him with a muffled yawn. But his eyes were unclouded and alert; he too was wide awake.

"Legolas? Is it morning yet?" he asked sleepily.

"No, no. Not yet. I can't sleep," the prince sat up with the sheets twisted round his ankles. His blue eyes lifted to the closed door, outside of which Galion had stationed himself. He sighed deeply and stared at the sheets.

He had not spoken to his friend about what had happened. Lóthmir did not need to know what he had suffered under his uncle's hand- those memories were still too near to speak aloud. And it was not over yet. There was still no surety that they could win and he longed to be there with Haldir and Tirien, with his father and mother- looking for them. He missed them horribly and wished they were here.

"I'm frightened," Lóthmir admitted quietly, scrambling onto Legolas' bed and draping his arms about his bent knees. "I don't know what's going to happen. We should be doing something!" His fist struck the mattress violently.

"Iston! (I know!)" Legolas growled exasperatedly but something made him stop and stiffen. He could hear voices outside the door. Angry voices.

Sliding out of bed, Legolas tiptoed across the floor, shivering at the touch of the frozen stone on his bare feet. As he drew closer, the voices grew clearer and he could hear their words.

"… by order of the King, these halls are to remain empty at all times."

"These rooms are empty. Can not a servant tend his duties to which he has been ordered without being troubled for every little thing?" Legolas heard Galion's voice answer bravely but the servant's voice quavered.

"No," Came the curt reply. "Now, open this door or be charged with treason."

Legolas backed away as the doorknob rattled and nearly ran into Lóthmir who had eased up behind him.

"We've got to get out of here," the prince whispered out of the side of his mouth.

"Where?"

The doorknob rattled fiercely now and Legolas knew Galion was trying to stall, to buy them time.

"There!"

He grabbed Lóthmir's hand and pulled him over to a tall wardrobe in the dark corner of the room. They squeezed in, shoving aside long, white tunics stacked within. Only leaving the door open a crack behind him, Legolas peered through the narrow slit between door and frame, watching as the outer door opened and two green and black garbed soldiers stalked into the room with Galion rushing in at their heels. One of the guards deposited the long knife the butler had held onto a table.

"Not very good at doing your duties are you?" one soldier sneered, lifting the rumpled sheet of Legolas' bed.

Galion sputtered a vague reply that went ignored.

The two spread out, searching the corners of the room, under the beds, even opening the window and peering over the ledge.

Legolas heard them growing closer and pulled his head back, easing the wardrobe door shut a little tighter. It was very cramped and dark and reminded the prince uncomfortably of his confinement in his uncle's small, stone chamber but he swallowed his fear and kept his eyes straight ahead. He couldn't see Lóthmir but he could hear him breathing softly in the dark across from him. His own sounded loud and ragged to his ears and his heart pounded in his chest. One guard growled in frustration right outside their hiding place.

"Damnation! Where are they?" He spat, striking the wardrobe door hard with his fist.

Legolas and Lóthmir both jumped and a startled gasp flew from both their lips. For a tense second, they froze, the blood thudding loudly in their ears, wondering if the guard had heard them.

"Whom do you seek? Maybe I can help," Galion put in, trying to sweep the guards from the corner.

"That is none of your concern," the other soldier barked, shoving him away.

Galion sank onto one of the tousled beds, clasping his hands to relieve their shaking. He knew very well that he would die to protect those two children.

"He will have our heads if we do not find them," the other addressed his companion in a low voice.

Legolas held his breath, listening hard, the blood rushing to his head, dizzy with fear.

Before he could react or even move, the guard flung open the doors, revealing them where they crouched upon the wrinkled tunics. Trapped, Legolas and Lóthmir could do nothing but stare in terror up at him. The closest soldier grabbed Legolas by the arm, wrenching him out of the wardrobe while the other wrestled with Lóthmir who fought against him, kicking and hitting.

"You will release him."

A long, curved knife appeared suddenly under Legolas' guard's chin, tilting his head back. Legolas looked over his shoulder in astonishment at Galion who had quietly seized the knife from the table and now held it to his fellow elf's throat in an undeniable threat.

The guard's companion drew his sword but Lóthmir stamped hard on the inside of his foot and he yelped, dropping it in surprise.

"Boys, kelo (go)!" Galion ordered, his voice shaking but his hand steady, his face white with fear.

Without hesitating a moment, Lóthmir grabbed Legolas' hand and pulled him out the door.

"Get after them!" a voice cried.

Legolas heard a crash and a vicious curse but Lóthmir tugged on his arm again, preventing him from rushing back to help. They pelted down the hall, careening around the corners as they heard the footsteps of their pursuers right behind them. Fear tore through Legolas for Galion's safety but he could do nothing as they hurtled down the hall, heedless of where they were running just so long as they escaped.

Leaping down a long winding stair, Legolas could hear bootsteps right above his head, almost on top of him and forced his legs on faster though pain shot up his back from wounds he was sure he had reopened. Lóthmir stumbled and nearly fell but Legolas grabbed his arm, supporting him as they kept running. Tirien's son was whey-faced with fatigue and malnourishment; he could not go on like this much longer.

They rounded another corner and Legolas skidded so hard to a stop that he nearly fell over as he found himself facing the tips of very sharp swords.

"Drop your weapons!" Sarithan commanded sternly but his eyes were not on the young prince and his companion. Legolas sagged in relief. He could see Rameil as well but Tirien, Ancadal and Haldir were gone. They must have split up. Maybe they had found my mother or father… he thought hopefully.

As though by unspoken consent, the two soldiers who had halted abruptly in their tracks relinquished their weapons and allowed their hands to be bound. They had no cause they were willing to die for.

"Are you both all right?" Rameil asked; his temples were already streaked with sweat and his blade edged with scarlet.

Battle had already been joined.

Legolas glanced at his friend and touched his trembling shoulder but Lóthmir straightened himself and gave a wan smile.

"Fine. Where's my father?" he asked.

"Don't worry," Sarithan swiftly allayed his fears. "He'll return soon. They are searching for the King." He turned to Legolas and his stern face brightened in a small smile.

"But we have someone who wishes very much to see you, Legolas."

The prince looked up as the soldiers' ranks parted, revealing a figure in their midst.

Anariel flew towards her son, her dress and face stained with tears. With a cry, she swept him into her arms. The prince buried his face in his mother's shoulder, sobbing his heart out in her warm, comforting embrace. He did not notice the lump on her forehead or the blood on her lips and she said nothing but clung to him as though he were her lifeline.

"I'm so sorry, hên-nîn (my child)," she whispered into his hair, kissing his brow gently over and over. Legolas looked up at her, startled. What did she have to be sorry for?

"For what, Naneth?"

Tears sprang to Anariel's eyes at the innocent look on her son's face. He was still her little boy. But so much pain! She could see so much hurt and horror behind her son's eyes. Such hurt. When had this happened to her little boy? Why?

It nearly broke her heart.

"If I had warned you about your… Ainan… I would have done something if I had known- I swear I would have." She clung tighter to him. Legolas hung his head feeling guilty. This was all his fault. If he had been smarter and told his mother or maybe… but it didn't matter now. Elves had died because of him. His own mother was crying because of him! Legolas shuddered, dreading what his father would say if he knew! He had never felt so horrid in his life as his mother rocked him in her arms, crying silently into his shoulder.

He took a deep breath, trying to still the storm of emotions whirling inside him and he managed to keep calm, stopping his tears. Anariel pulled away from him for a moment to embrace Lóthmir as well.

Sarithan allowed them a moment before touching her urgently on the shoulder.

"We cannot linger here, milady. It is not yet safe."

"Of course, Captain," she acceded, wiping her eyes and rising to her feet as she hugged her son and his friend to her.

The entire group suddenly tensed, their hands tightening on their weapons as an elf silently appeared at the end of the corridor but they relaxed when they realized it was one of their own. He was breathing hard and his tunic twisted round him like a shroud as he raced right up to the Queen and collapsed at her feet.

"Ainan has vanished. None of our scouts have seen him though his soldiers crawl over the palace like insects," The guard reported, his brow darkening as he heaved in ragged chestfuls of breath. Anariel laid a hand on his shoulder and raised him to his feet.

"Take ease, soldier. You have done well."

"We should slay them all for what they've done," a dissenting voice hissed.

Anariel's head snapped to the speaker, who realizing her eyes were upon him, straightened.

"Nevertheless, Edraien," she said sternly. "They are our kindred and will be shown mercy whether they deserve it or no," The Queen replied, her blue eyes looking commandingly at the soldier who bowed in deference.

"At your command, my Lady."

Sarithan nodded curtly.

"Let's move out."

The scarlet candles danced madly as a figure swept around the table.

"We cannot do this, hir-nîn!" he burst out suddenly, shaking his head frantically. "The prisoners have been freed! They are besieging the palace. We shall all be slain!" His keen eyes snapped with a cerulean fire as he stepped closer towards the usurper.

"You have led us to this!" he growled, an accusing finger pointing at his face. "We shall all be murdered because of your ambition! It is better to yield now than be killed!"

Ainan said nothing but stepped forward a few paces until he stood beside the elf.

"Now, Arëar," he addressed him, calmly laying a hand on his shoulder. "Have you no faith in your King?"

"I forsook my King the moment I pledged my allegiance to you," the elf shook his head, recklessly ignorant of his terrible danger.

Ainan continued to smile as he tightened his grip on the elf's shoulder. A dagger suddenly appeared in his hand and plunged deep into the elf's side. Arëar gasped and recoiled against the pain but the other held him firmly as the life fled from his eyes. Ainan jerked his blade free viciously and flung the corpse to the floor, his wide-eyed gaze staring around at the others that surrounded him, their eyes on the lifeless form streaming blood over the pristine marble.

Shocked silence spiraled horribly in the close room.

"Any one else? Please, feel free to express your doubts," Ainan invited silkily, wiping the scarlet stained blade, on a white handkerchief he plucked from his sleeve.

None answered.

Ainan allowed the silence to twist for a torturous moment longer as he sheathed the bloody dagger at his waist.

"Good. Now gather your men and meet me in the Great Hall," he snapped. "A few pathetic prisoners escape and we are all to crawl away like scolded children? Are you so craven that you cannot fight when your lord bids you? We shall have no need of fear for we shall crush them in one mighty blow. Final victory will be ours!"

Galvanized by his words and fear of the repercussions lest they disobey, they jumped up as one and headed towards the door.

Ainan summoned a servant and flicked a hand callously at the body.

"Get rid of this filth and clean up the mess."

The servant bowed and immediately fled.

Ainan stood alone in the empty room. In a flurry of temper, he snatched up a candlestick and flung it at the mirror hanging over the fireplace. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces and rained upon the carpet in deadly shards as Ainan clutched at his hair. All of his plans were going awry! They were not meant to have found the brat so soon! He needed only a little more time. Yes, that was it. Just a little longer. He took in a deep breath and slowly unclenched his fingers which were digging bloody crescents into the palms of his hands.

"You have failed me. Again." he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the shattered mirror.

In a myriad reflection, Tindómëtir stared back at him.

"My sincerest apologies, hir-nîn," he whispered, abasing himself at his lord's feet. The entire right side of his face was black and blue and a long tear in his shoulder's sleeve was stained dark with dried blood.

Ainan did not turn to acknowledge him. His eyes burned in a gaunt face as he stared into the mirror, regardless of the glass crunching under his feet as he drifted closer to it.

"No more mistakes, Tindómëtir. No more slip-ups."

The dark elf rose slowly to his feet, his expression apprehensive as he watched Ainan's bloody hand wrap around the candlestick, lifting it from the shard-strewn floor. Tindómëtir twitched nervously, flinching back as Ainan stalked towards him.

"Bring Thranduil to me," he hissed, halting abruptly before him. When the dark elf did not move quickly enough to suit his tastes, Ainan fetched him a blow with the candlestick.

"Now!"

Thranduil strained against his captors, fighting fiercely despite his wounds. Nearly half a score surrounded him, escorting their prisoner down the dark hall. The King was bloody and weakened from his long days imprisonment without food and only a little water. His ragged robes clung loosely to his rangy frame, torn and bloodstained. But his eyes were calm though he knew he would be led to his death. He looked at the soldiers who marched him along the corridor, gripping his bound arms tightly.

"Why do you do this, Ascadim? Your boys and mine played together," Thranduil said softly, appraising the elf holding his left arm who avoided his gaze. "Why?"

"I'm sorry. I made my choice, my lord," he answered softly, sorrowfully. "And I shall stand by it."

"Ever loyal, are they not, Thranduil?" a softly mocking voice taunted from the shadows. Both guards immediately halted, dragging their prisoner upright as they stood to attention.

"Bauglir! (Traitor!)" Thranduil roared, struggling against his captors more than ever until one was forced to draw his knife to keep him under control.

"Now, now, now, muindor, that temper will not avail you," the voice slid from the darkness and Thranduil stilled, his neck forced back by the knifepoint digging into his flesh.

Ainan materialized from the shadows like a wraith, garbed in scarlet and a long sword at his hip. His wicked smile took in the battered, bleeding form of his brother-in law, mocking his helplessness as more of his soldiers lingered behind him.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave the comforts of your cozy cell behind, my dear brother-in-law. It's a shame, we've had so much fun, haven't we?" he leered.

Thranduil thrust himself forward again, disregarding the knife digging dangerously into his neck as Ainan paced nearer. His cobalt eyes blazed with defiance and anger, so very like to his son, Ainan mused with a derisive twist of his lips as a thin stream of scarlet began to run down the captured King's throat.

"Victory, brother, I can nearly taste it," Ainan goaded, throwing his head back and breathing in deeply. "The Kingdom will be mine. As it should always have been and there will be none to oppose me." Something in his tone of voice made the Elvenking's blood run cold.

Several yards away down the left-hand passage leading back up to the upper reaches of the palace, soldiers crouched amid the statues and deep shadows, their cloaks blending well with the age-green walls. Only a handful of them for they were the scouting party, scouring the way clear before returning to the others.

"We cannot just stand here!" Tirien hissed, concern for his monarch and friend overriding his good sense. "We have to help him."

"There are too many for us," Ancadal whispered grimly, his hand clenching on his sword hilt as he watched Tindómëtir pass within his blade's reach. How he wished Haldir had let them kill him! They would not risk moving the King if there were such a threat of capture. Where were they taking him?

"Come on," he whispered instead, laying a hand on Tirien's tense shoulder. A tug on his own sleeve alerted him to movement and they hastily retreated back down the corridor as the sanguinary group marched past their hiding place, torches in hand. Ancadal watched Ainan, his grip tightening on his weapon until his knuckles turned white. He watched the elven traitor lean towards the dark elf ever at his side, whispering to him.

"He knows," Tirien said quietly. "We must make haste. Back to the others- quick!"

Like lightning, they bolted from their concealment as soon as the torches had passed. And halted abruptly. Ainan had sent his own guards back to head off the escaping prisoners and Tirien and his group suddenly found themselves besieged by a sea of swords. They drew their weapons, preparing to die for their lord and king.

Tindómëtir stepped from the ranks, his long blade out and gleaming coldly.

"Surrender your weapons and you will be allowed to live- for the moment," he ordered.

"Never!" Ancadal spat back boldly, flourishing his long sword eagerly. Though they were outnumbered, they were prepared to die and Tirien nodded in grim agreement as his soldiers fanned out to either side of him, careful to keep their backs to each other instead of their enemies.

"Le firiath. (Then you will die)," the dark elf replied succinctly.

Chaos erupted.

Ancadal lunged towards him but a fierce-looking woman intercepted him and he leapt backward in shock, staring into Eraeriel's fanatically blazing eyes. He ducked under a blow aimed at taking his head and parried her next hard strike. The passage was very narrow and left little room to maneuver. The shrill whistle and clang of steel on steel echoed down the hall as they fought madly. Blood spray flew into the air and Ancadal slipped in the gore, falling over backwards.

Eraeriel lifted her blade, preparing to plunge it into her adversary's prone body but a hard blow to the back of her skull knocked her flat and the sword skittered from her grasp.

Ancadal wiped the blood from his face and looked up in relief as Rameil grasped his hand and pulled him to his feet. The younger elf flashed him a grateful smile but the dark-haired elf was already gone.

The battle spilled out of the narrow passages into a long hall crowned by a broad, many-tiered staircase.

Ancadal spinning around in search of another opponent snatched a glimpse of his commander, ducking and weaving through the battle.

Haldir, caught in the midst of the fray, found himself staring into the dark, baleful eyes of his former tormentor. Tindómëtir flashed a venomous smile, spinning a long narrow blade in one hand.

"You are too weak to fight me, Haldir," he jeered over the clash of ringing steel.

"I am no longer caged," Haldir retorted calmly, his hand clenched upon the hilt of his saber as he lifted it though a warning sting tingled up his spine. For the first time in his life, he knew, he was literally fighting for his life.

Tindómëtir merely smirked in reply and lunged.

A clatter of footsteps went unnoticed as Sarithan and his guard rushed into the room, taking in the scene in an instant and drawing their weapons ringing from their sheaths. Anariel clutched Legolas and Lóthmir to her, her face utterly stricken at the sight before her. Never had she seen the like of it: elf fighting elf.

"U-dago hain! (Do not kill them!)" she cried above the tumult but Sarithan thrust her unceremoniously back, out of harm's way as Ainan's soldiers turned towards them. These elves were wild, from the far depths of the forest and their kind was thought to have died out long ago with the fall of the Southern Kingdom. But it was not so. They fought without remorse and willingly cut down those that opposed them. Trying not to kill and not be killed in the same instance was very difficult indeed and Anariel closed her eyes in pain as she felt her people die.

But the suddenly outnumbered usurpers paused, startled by this turn of fortunes.

As suddenly as it began, the battle ceased as the traitors lowered their bloodied weapons. They were not disillusioned enough to believe that they could win against three to one odds.

Only one continued to fight.

Tindómëtir danced back out of reach of his enemy's longer blade, spinning adroitly under it and thrusting upwards with his own. Haldir twisted narrowly away from it, the tip snagging in his tunic and slicing a long, thin line across his stomach. Ignoring the sudden sting of pain, Haldir smashed the hilt of his sword into the other's face, sending him reeling over backwards. Tindómëtir slunk back to his feet, spitting blood but he paused, out of reach, as something at the top of the stairs caught his eye.

Haldir instinctively followed his gaze and froze.

Ainan stood at the top of the stairs, his silver-blue eyes hard and furious. The power rolling thickly off him could be felt as it tingled the hair on arms and necks, shivering the soul, friend or foe.

Slowly, he descended the stairs, step by step, and the fighting ceased before him, his followers huddling on one side while the rebellion eyed them on the other, waiting for the next move. They had not expected Ainan to reveal himself so openly against them.

The golden-crowned serpent swept through the chamber, caring no more for the spilt blood and elven corpses under his boots than for a bundle of unwashed clothing. The two sides gave back before him and Sarithan stiffened, standing protectively in front of the Queen as Ainan halted, his malevolent gaze upon them.

Lóthmir shivered as that silver-blue gaze rested on him, feeling Legolas grip his hand tightly.

"Pity, hên. You were not meant to survive that," he said cruelly into the silence with a sadistic smile.

"Monster!" Tirien spat as he leapt forth to protect his son.

Ainan cast an amused glance at him.

"King Thranduil is alive- I have seen him," Tirien continued, his blue eyes snapping fire. "You are a blood traitor, Ainan, and must face your crimes against the Elven People of Mirkwood as well as the Royal Crown."

Ainan laughed wildly at that and his followers gathered behind him menaced their weapons, their faces like stone, eyes glowing.

"Face my crimes?" he jeered. His expression hardened dangerously.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance."

He dismissed the elven guard as inconsequential and this time it was Anariel who caught the brunt of his noxious gaze.

"It seems we are caught at an impasse, my dear," he said lazily, glancing over his shoulder at his group who stood uncertainly, their weapons wavering, awaiting his command. "Do you wish to withdraw or will you continue this foolishness? Bit of a mess for your servants," he added mildly, staring around at the carnage, callously disregarding the grievous loss of life.

Anariel felt Sarithan shudder angrily behind her and laid a hand on his sleeve. Her eyes settled on her son and white-faced Lóthmir beside him. She had to get them out of here.

"Let the children go, muindor. They have no part in this."

"They're not going anywhere," Ainan snarled right back, his vicious smile widening. He was enjoying this! "The only way they leave here is in the arms of Lord Námo."

Tirien growled and leveled his sword at the base of the traitor's neck. Ainan did not flinch, his eyes still steadily fixed upon those of his sister.

"Go on," he goaded. "Command him, muinthel. Tell him to strike. Dago nîn. (Kill me.) Le berthon. (I dare you)."

"Do not play these games, Ainan," Anariel begged, shooting a sharp look at the Royal Guard captain.

Tirien was no fool. He knew that if he so much as twitched, he would be slain by Ainan's guards before he could slit the vile demon's throat. But, oh, how he wished it! Diffidently, he dropped his blade and took a single step back from the evil traitor. Ainan chuckled with a rueful shake of his head.

"Even now, you refuse to take my life, little sister."

Anariel moved forward, gently pushing aside Sarithan's restraining hand. Her voice trembled as she stood within an arm's length of her brother.

"If you will surrender the crown that was never rightly yours, I will not."

"Surrender it to whom?" Ainan sneered, his sharp glance cutting to Legolas who stiffened. "To your brat? The bastard of Mirkwood?"

Anariel stood rigid as Ainan locked his insidious eyes with hers.

"I assure you your dear Thranduil will not be here to reclaim it," he hissed. "I am making Greenwood better than our father ever could," he crowed triumphantly.

Anariel was nearly in tears but she squared her shoulders, taking a single step closer to him, looking up into his eyes, longing to find some small shred of the boy she had once known. Her brother. The one she had comforted in darkness, the one who had loved her and clung to her. The one who had harmed her and shamed her. The one she loved.

"Our father made the streets run with blood!" she cried wildly. "And what you are doing is no different!"

A hush fell over the corridor and the elves shifted restlessly again, bloodied swords in hand, expressions fixed in masks of death and battle as they turned towards their Queen. Tension fairly throbbed upon the silent air, threatening to snap at any moment.

Anariel stood in the puddles of blood, her blue eyes unbearably sad to see such fallen in her own home! Elves she remembered as boys, children! Slain at her feet. Her eyes sought her brother's, poised and utterly calm, staring down at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

Anariel shook her head numbly, her eyesight blurring with tears.

"I believed you," she said quietly, her gaze only for Ainan. "I trusted you with so much. You were my blood, my family, the one I had looked up to…"

"You are evil, Ainan," she said softly, her voice hardening. "And I regret that I ever called you family."

Her brother recoiled in shock as though she had struck him again. Never had he thought he was evil. Questionable perhaps- but he was only trying to help. To make Mirkwood great again- as it had been under his father, or so he believed. So deeply entrenched in his own lies had he become, he no longer recognized the truth. Never had he considered that he was evil. And from her lips. From she who had seen the best and worst parts of him throughout their long life. The thought shocked him into taking a step back from his sister, his expression dazed.

Ainan's face crumbled and he bowed his head as though ashamed. Unwanted guilt suddenly ensnared the Queen as she thought better of her harsh words, said in anger. Anariel stepped hesitantly forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. He wilted like a cut flower under her touch and collapsed into her arms, quiet tears pouring down his face unchecked.

Surprised, her sisterly instincts kicked in and she enveloped him in her arms without thinking as he sobbed against her shoulder- as she had when they had been small.

Haldir slipped to Legolas' side, laying a hand on Lóthmir's shoulder as the prince turned around and embraced him. They watched as the Queen stood there, rocking her brother in her arms. Haldir stood, every muscle fraught with tension as his instincts rippled uncomfortably. And then the elf captain saw the glint of torchlight on bared steel.

Ainan raised his head, his eyes glittering strangely. Anariel stared at him, her countenance soft and compassionate as she touched his face gently. But a warning shiver ran up her spine nonetheless and she tried to back away but Ainan suddenly tightened his grip on her shoulder.

She felt a sudden sharp jerk and watched in horror as Haldir leapt forward and shoved at Ainan.

Then the pain! Anariel screamed as a fire seemed to pierce her very heart. She arched helplessly against it, feeling herself sway as agony throbbed through her. Through blurred vision, she looked down and saw in her brother's hand, a gleaming dagger that had pierced her between the ribs and had just missed impaling her heart.

She vaguely heard Legolas' scream and saw Tirien grab him to keep him from rushing to her. Yes, she thought, keep him safe, Tirien.

Ainan's stormy façade was livid as he glared at her in absolute hatred. Anariel felt her heart constrict at that look- so full of venom. Where had it all come from? Where was the sweet and innocent boy she had known in her youth? Gone, forever. He was a complete stranger to her. Part of her chided herself ruthlessly: she should have known! Should have guessed that her brother would not have given in so easily. Still, the other part had never believed, never thought he was capable of killing her or her family in such cold blood.

Oh, how so very wrong she had been! So wrong!

"Ainan-" she gasped, unsure of what she was going to really say as she tried to disentangle herself from him but his grip on her arm and the dagger still in her side was too strong. She felt his lips press gently against her forehead and a husky whisper close to her ear.

"Yes, little sister. I am." Those were the last words she heard; the Queen swooned as he released her, viciously jerking the weapon from her flesh as Rameil seized him by the shoulders, wrenching him away from her.

Haldir lunged forward and caught her in his arms, disregarding the pain that tore through his newly relocated shoulder at the movement. She was as weightless as a willow branch and rested lightly in his arms but despite that, the injuries across his back and shoulders burned and he knew he would have to make haste- for both their sakes.

But Ainan was not finished as he threw Rameil from him.

"How many times must I try to kill you, elf, before you will die?" He snarled, drawing the long sword from the sheath at his waist. Haldir began to edge away from the mad elf, careful to keep Legolas at his back. He could not fight, not with the two others to protect. But Ainan was not about to let them retreat.

"You will pay for your interference, Captain- with your blood," he snarled, pointing the sword menacingly at Haldir's chest. The Lórien captain quickly handed the fallen queen to Sarithan who rushed to help as Ainan lunged forward with a growl. Haldir withdrew Cálivien's saber from his belt to meet the other's strike before it clove his head from his shoulders.

"Slay me these renegades!" Ainan cried with another sweep of his sword. His elves charged forward once more and swords met in a deafening clash that made the very stones keen with grief and horror.

"Haldir, run! Get them out of here!" Rameil roared above the din, lunging at Ainan and thrusting the elven traitor back.

Haldir snatched the Queen up into his arms as he dove forward and grabbed the prince's arm, yanking him away from the battle. His keen eyes pierced the tumult, searching for the traitorous wretch. He caught sight of a sweep of a scarlet cloak as Ainan broke off the fight and sprang towards the narrow back stairs, several of his guards at his back.

He had one last trap to spring before the end.

But Haldir wasted no time and sheathed his blade with a snap as he gathered Anariel into his arms lest she be trampled by the battle. Beckoning for Lóthmir to follow them, he pressed himself against the far wall, edging towards the exit. He had to get these three out of here though he loathed himself for leaving his friends.

Legolas' face was the picture of abject horror, unheeding of their looming danger.

"Naneth," he whispered, bending over his mother. Haldir nudged the boy.

"Come on. We've got to hurry." The urgency in his voice galvanized the distraught prince and he raced alongside the older elf as they hurtled up the stairs, knowing they had precious little time and would need every drop of it if they were to save the Queen's life.

"Captain," the soft whisper startled Haldir and nearly made him drop his burden as he shot a glance down at the pale woman in his arms. She seemed so fragile- quite unlike the indomitable but gentle woman he had met several months ago that now seemed so far away like a half-recalled dream. Her warm blood flowed freely over his hands and dripped onto the marble floor and his boots.

"I-I don't-" Her once-melodious voice was an urgent croak, masking the pain as best she could as he tried desperately not to jostle her as he kept moving down the corridor with all the stealth of a ghost as Legolas moved just as silently at his side, pale as a specter himself. She coughed weakly, trying to clear her throat. Her blue eyes fell on those of her son's, which brimmed full of tears as he met her eyes.

Her bloodied hand, which had been clasping the wound in her side, touched her bearer's face to draw his eyes. He winced at the hot stickiness that left a mark upon his cheek but he met her gaze squarely.

"Take care of him," she whispered, her voice now so faint that he could barely hear her. "Take care of him, please, Captain…"

"No, my Lady. You will live through this. Hold on. We're going to find someone who can help you." Anariel smiled slightly but her voice remained weak though steady.

"Promise me, Haldir. Please."

Stricken dumb, he merely nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

Suddenly his back felt as though a hot poker had been laid across his shoulders and he stopped abruptly, hissing in pain. Legolas stopped too, looking between his mother and his friend with increasing concern. Lóthmir lingered behind them with an anxious glance over his shoulder.

Haldir tried to force his legs to move but they wouldn't obey his commands. His limbs were shaking badly, the exertion of the battle, the lingering poison still in his veins and his numerous wounds finally catching up with him all at once. He couldn't move another step if he wanted to. The pain was just too much and he feared he would drop her.

The sounds of battle were not far enough away for comfort and Haldir laid the Queen gently on the ground

"Legolas, Lóthmir, keep going- find someone! Anyone!" Haldir insisted, drawing his sword and setting it at his side as he knelt on the cold flagstones in the middle of the passageway.

The prince hesitated, unwilling to leave his mother. Haldir leapt to his feet and shoved the younger one as hard as he could, nearly toppling him.

"Kelo!"

Driven by the underlying panic in the other's voice, Legolas cast one last, worried look at his mother before spinning around and racing away as fast as his legs could carry him with Lóthmir right behind him. His legs shaking and chest heaving with exertion, Haldir sank to his knees beside the Queen as her son passed out of sight. Her gaze lingered long after Legolas had vanished around the corner.

"I am so sorry, Lady," Haldir gasped, struggling to force aside the nearly overwhelming pain that sent black sparks dancing ominously before his eyes.

"Promise me," she breathed softly, her hand squeezing his weakly, half-rising in her urgency. He immediately pressed her back down, pillowing her head with his cloak as they knelt within the shadow of the statue of Elbereth. He nodded fervently.

"I promise," he murmured. "With my life." She smiled in such blissful relief, he feared she would give her soul to Mandos then and there. Haldir looked up at the loving marble face of the Lady of the Stars whose shadow they lay in as he hastily tore a his cloak into makeshift bandages, praying that the Valar would see them through this.

Chapter Text

Mingled terror and anguish lent wings to the prince's feet and he fairly flew up the hallway with Lóthmir stumbling unsteadily behind him, unable to keep up with the exhausting pace. Legolas did not notice, his mind in turmoil. His harsh breaths hitched around half-formed sobs. The sight of his mother bleeding in his friend's arms had nearly undone him. How many ways more could his uncle wound him?

"Legolas! Legolas, dartho!" came Lóthmir's voice and his friend's hand yanked back sharply on his sleeve, halting him so fast he nearly tore the fabric.

Legolas jerked to a stop, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked down into his friend's face, his eyes glimmering with sorrow. Lóthmir was very pale and breathing laboriously, bent nearly double with his fingers still clutching the prince's sleeve.

"I'm sorry, Lóthmir," He said, helping his friend straighten so he could breathe easier. But the other elf shook himself with a shake of his head.

"No. It's all right… really," He added when he saw Legolas' disbelieving expression. Slowly, he put a hand on the prince's shoulder, squeezing it.

"It's going to be all right. She'll be all right," he said, trying to be reassuring as he attempted to regain his breath. Legolas quickly shrugged off his friend's hand and turned away, afraid that if he kept looking into Lóthmir's compassionate face he would break down entirely.

He halted abruptly as something moved in the shadows in front of him. The sweep of a dun-colored cloak and a glint of red hair startled both of them into immobility.

"What are you doing here?" Lóthmir demanded coldly. Legolas stared in shock at Nárvenien who lowered her hood off her face which was white as a specter.

"What are you hoping to do, tithen?" she chided condescendingly, her eyes on the prince. "All alone?"

"He is not alone," Lóthmir shot back angrily, wavering even as he spoke. Nárvenien cast a cold, sneering look at him.

But Legolas was through arguing with her- that would get them nowhere and every second his mother slipped closer to Mandos' Halls.

"Please, Nárvenien," he bade, abandoning all façades of pride. "There is no one else. If you do not help us, my mother will die. Please."

"Wouldn't you do the same for your mother?" Lóthmir asked quietly, his eyes on Legolas' face.

Something flickered behind the young woman's eyes. But it was gone in an instant and she stared hard at the golden-haired prince for a long time until he sighed and began to walk away. Abruptly, she grabbed his hand.

"Tolo! (Come on!)" she snarled at Lóthmir, pulling Legolas behind her.

They seized anything they could find: bed sheets, coverlets, and sitting on a nightstand, a porcelain basin of water its contents sloshing over the sides as Lóthmir walked as fast as he dared. Their small pile seemed woefully inadequate but it was all they could find and Legolas was anxious to return to his mother.

Sprinting as fast as they dared, and listening all the while for the sound of footsteps, they hurried back down the corridor.

Haldir had staunched the wound as best he could, pressing on it to alleviate the blood flow but his hands were stained dark with her blood and the Queen had passed into darkness long ago. The captain's face was very white as he listened frantically for the sound of returning footsteps, looking up sharply when he heard them and saw Legolas, followed by Lóthmir and a woman carrying blankets and linens.

"You have a habit of showing up at the right time," Haldir remarked, recognizing his mysterious messenger.

Moving as fast and as carefully as they could, Haldir and Nárvenien eased the Queen's limp body onto one of the spread out blankets, rewrapping fresh bandages around the gaping wound in her side that still bled sluggishly. Legolas gripped his mother's hand tightly through it all, his eyes on her face; Lóthmir hovered behind him with a hand on his shoulder.

Rameil stumbled over to them, his torn tunic and unsheathed sword bloodied. Behind him trailed Tirien and a remnant of his guard. The soldiers were woefully few and Haldir knew that the battle in the hall had turned fatally in their favor for he could no longer hear the clashing of swords.

"Sarithan is taking those who surrendered to the prisons," Rameil informed him absently, looking down at the fallen queen.

Tirien fell to his knees beside his liege lady, quickly glancing over his son and his friend.

"We must get her to a healer."

Haldir shook his head, ignoring the elven guard's incredulous look.

"There are none to tend her- we must do what we can here."

Tirien froze at his words, a cold sensation swooping through his stomach as he realized that the Queen might die. She was already so cold.

As though echoing his thoughts, Nárvenien spoke skeptically.

"She's going to die."

"No! She's not!" Legolas cried, leaping to his feet threateningly. "How dare you say that!" Nárvenien handled his outburst silently, her eyes on the Queen's pale, pale form.

Behind her, Tirien and his remaining guard had gathered, their eyes flickering from their Queen back to the bloody hall.

"We must find him. Now."

"I fear it will be too late."

Nárvenien was beginning to edge away from the group, her eyes flickering back and forth uncomfortably. Tirien caught her by the wrist and looked sternly down at her.

"I recognize you. You are Eraeriel's daughter- she was deep in his counsels. Where is he?"

She said nothing.

"You don't want Ainan to rule. That much you have proven by aiding us," Rameil said. "You know what he's capable of."

Lóthmir sighed in impatience and stared hard at her, a hand on Legolas' shoulder who did not look up from his mother's face. "Nárvenien, for once in your life help someone other than yourself," he pleaded.

"Why should I? What have you ever done for me that I should help you?" she snarled right back.

"Young lady," Tirien began very gravely and her eyes snapped to his face. "If you have been helping him, there are ways- we can pardon you. The King will grant you clemency- but only if you help us."

"You have helped us before, why not do so again?" Rameil entreated.

Nárvenien shook her head furiously, her expression conflicted.

"I can't! I can't! You don't understand!" her voice broke and she shuddered deeply, restraining her tears. "He has eyes and ears everywhere!"

"Do you think Ainan will let your family live if he should gain the throne? If the last of those who oppose him are dead?" Haldir put in, his silver eyes staring up at the woman. Nárvenien shot a sharp, stricken glance at him. Her eyes darted nervously around the group of grim-faced elves, armed and bloodied. She blinked and her shoulders bowed as though with great weariness.

"The throne room."

Ainan faced the bowed head of the Elvenking with savage triumph glittering in his half-mad eyes. In his hand, he held a long, gleaming sword sparking with orange flame in the torchlight.

On either side of him only a handful of guards stood, their faces suffused with mixtures of wonder and horror.

"I want you to die," he hissed sibilantly so that only Thranduil could hear. "With the knowledge that you have lost everything that you hold dear: your kingdom, the loyalty of your friends, your family. Everything." He raised the sword up in a slender-fingered hand and touched the Elvenking's neck, ever-so-slightly digging into the soft skin at the hollow of his throat.

"Be comforted, Thranduil," he taunted mockingly. "Know that your wife and child will join you in Mandos' Halls. Soon." He laughed, the sound echoing horrendously in the vaulted chamber.

Cobalt eyes, crackling with defiance to the last, stared impassively up into the silver-blue of the serpent's.

"Ainan, I pray you will find peace," he said quietly, fear for his family cutting him to the soul.

Ainan sneered.

"Foolish sentiments, brother." He turned away momentarily, a satisfied smirk breaking across his narrow features.

"How perfect an executioner's block!" he crowed as he dragged the resisting but pain-filled King to the dais. Two of Ainan's guards forced the King to his knees, their doubt and dread plain on their pale visages; clearly they had never expected this to go so far. But Ainan paid them no heed. His ultimate triumph loomed ever nearer now as he raised the sword, its edge flickering with orange tongues as though of flames running up and down the steel. The shadow of it cast a straight line across the back of the King's neck.

"Navaer, muindor," he swung as a last taunt.

Dead silence hung thick as a pall upon the air.

The doors to the vaulted chamber suddenly slammed open, rebounding off the walls and Ainan twisted round, startled. But the arrow had already been released. He screamed in pain as the bolt knocked him over backwards, deeply embedded in his shoulder. He tripped over the throne stairs and fell flat on his back, the sword skittering from his grasp as he clutched at the arrow haft.

Thranduil raised his head, shocked, releasing a breath in unimaginable relief to see his Captain of the Guard striding towards him and at his heels, Legolas with Haldir following close behind, a small limp bundle in his arms.

Tirien held a bow loosely in one hand, his face set and grim.

"Are you all right, hir-nin?" he asked as he helped the Elvenking to his feet and sliced his bonds but Thranduil had eyes only for his family as he swooped upon his son and drew him into a tight embrace.

Legolas had felt his heart stop when he had seen his father under his uncle's sword. Now tears of joy and relief welled up in his eyes as he returned his father's hug. After a long moment, the King released his son and turned towards the Lórien captain who stood quietly by.

"Adar," Legolas said quietly. "Naneth… he, Vedhir, he-"

Thranduil's countenance clouded with grief as he approached Haldir and tenderly touched the cold brow of his wife. Anariel's eyes slowly floated open and Haldir quickly though gently transferred her to her husband's arms. Anariel, who had slightly regained her senses, wrapped her arm around his neck, cradling her face against his chest with her other, bloody hand clutching at the wound in her side.

"My lord! Tiro! (Look out)," Tirien shouted in warning.

Thranduil felt an arm strike his back and he tumbled to the ground with his wife clutched protectively in his arms as a shrill waspish hiss sliced the air and an arrow skipped off the stone not an inch from where the Elvenking sprawled.

Tindómëtir drew another arrow to his ear. In the bright torchlight, his hair shone a deep russet red. Tirien froze, his eyes hard and unyielding as he stood over his monarchs. Haldir had jerked Legolas behind him.

"You will die for that, traitor," the elven guard hissed. The dark elf drew the longbow from his shoulder and pulled another shaft tight to the string. Nárvenien suddenly leapt forward and seized Tindómëtir's arm, spoiling his aim.

"Adar, daro! Stay this madness!" she cried. The dark elf's eyes widened then hardened. With a sharp backhand, he struck his daughter to the floor and simultaneously lunged at Tirien.

It happened before anyone had even seen it.

Tirien drew his sword and leapt back to avoid Tindómëtir's blade. But there was nothing in the dark elf's hands.

Then Nárvenien started screaming.

Tirien stumbled and a wondering hand reached up to his throat. Hot wetness drenched his hands and as he drew his fingers away, he realized they were soaked in blood. In shock, he touched his neck again where a small silver knife lay deeply embedded.

"Adar," Lóthmir's hoarse whisper dropped dreadfully into the sudden silence.

Tirien turned to look at his son and dropped to the floor, his lifeblood spilling over the black marble.

"NO!" Lóthmir's anguished cry broke the heavy silence as he collapsed beside his father's body.

Tindómëtir merely smiled awfully as he lunged forward again. Rameil leapt forward to intercept him.

"Enough!" a strong voice echoed boomingly through the arched hall and all battle immediately ceased. Tindómëtir checked his advance, stunned abruptly into immobility. Ainan looked up, his mouth curling in a thin sneer as Thranduil, wavering only slightly, strode towards him.

The King of Mirkwood, battered and beaten, dressed in only a torn tunic and his breeches, bereft of his crown and all trappings of royalty- even so, the aura of veiled power pulsed about him. His long golden hair gleamed in the torchlight and determination sat upon his brow and strength in his hand as he strode purposefully forward, his blue eyes gleaming.

"I will not allow another drop of elven blood to be spilled!" the monarch said grimly, his voice rolling like thunder in the cavernous hall, grief at the loss of his dear friend evident on his face.

Ainan bared his teeth at the King; a dark fire kindled behind his eyes as he ripped the arrow from his shoulder, unflinching. He rose swiftly, swayed for only a moment before finding his feet. He shrugged out of his scarlet mantle, allowing it to flutter to the stairs as he picked up his long sword from where it had fallen.

"But for yours," he answered, sweeping closer as Rameil pressed Tirien's blade into the King's hand hurriedly.

Outside the large windows high on the left side of the chamber, they could see white flakes of snow hurling themselves against the panes. The wind howled through the chinks in the stone, screaming down the corridors. Inside, all was silent.

Locking eyes, the two elves circled one another slowly, blades bared and flickering in the torchlight that cast ominous shadows fleeing into the corners, enlarging the massive shapes of the two combatants on the walls.

Blood oozed slowly, spreading over the white silk shirt Ainan wore beneath his royal robes. He did not look remotely charismatic or kingly now. His long hair had fallen free of its elegant braids, matted with his own blood. His white-knuckled grip on the steel in his hand, tightened still further as he approached to within a few paces of the King.

Legolas and Haldir along with their fellow soldiers kept well back along the walls. Ainan's guards stood frozen as statues. They knew the price for interference. Tindómëtir still stood poised with Nárvenien on the floor beside him.

All stood breathless, watching the battle unfold before their very eyes. It was horrific to witness. The two brothers, both evenly matched in strength and skill, fighting for the sake of the very kingdom at the tips of their swords. None had witnessed the like of it before. To think that such treachery could rise at the very heart of their realm!

Ainan lunged first, a long sideways sweep at the King's side. Parrying it nimbly, Thranduil danced back a step, chancing a glance over his shoulder to make sure his wife and son were safely out of the way. But Ainan came on, unheedingly.

Thranduil gave ground before him, blocking his furious strikes, allowing him to expend himself a bit, consumed by his fury as he sought to beat the King down. They wove back and forth past the pillars, underneath the guttering torches entrenched in their sconces.

Even injured, Ainan was desperately strong, driven by the knowledge that if he lost here, he would lose all, including his own life.

Sweat poured down both their faces, streaking their temples, their bright, fervent eyes fixed upon one another, sword blades flashing like lightning in the dim hall, fighting to gain the upper hand.

Thranduil thrust his blade forward, aiming at his opponent's chest.

Swifter than an adder, Ainan slid aside, pivoting on his heel to slash at the back of the King's neck as he stumbled past, thrown off by the lack of resistance. Thranduil threw himself under the whistling blade, twisting around catlike to land a sharp slap with the flat of his blade to the back of the usurper's sword wrist.

With a cry of pain, Ainan released his blade.

Tindómëtir lunged forward a step and stopped. Even he dared not interfere.

Diving for his dropped weapon, Ainan leapt back to his feet to see Thranduil calmly waiting for him a few paces away. Incensed, the tyrant bounded forward, grasping his sword with both hands and swinging down with chopping force that would have knocked the blade from his adversary's hands and cloven him in two.

Sweeping his sword around in a semi-circle, the King swung his blade up to meet the strike, halting it abruptly halfway. Stinging shockwaves raced up both of their arms and they struggled, locked together as each tried to unbalance the other. Swiftly disengaging his blade, Thranduil caused Ainan's to resound sharply against the marble floor, leaving a cloven scar in the stone.

Ainan cried out in pain as the flat of Thranduil's sword struck the splintered arrow haft in his shoulder driving it in deeper. Leaping well away, Ainan snatched up his fallen mantle. With a snarl, he cast it before his enemy's eyes, withdrawing as he did so a long slender blade from his waist, thrusting it through the cloth- aiming for his brother's heart.

"Adar!" Legolas screamed in warning, racing forward but Haldir restrained him.

A sharp sting erupted across his chest as the King heard Legolas' alarm ring in his mind. Thranduil parried the lethal stroke in the very nick of time and thrust the slashed cloak aside, his teeth gritted and shaking the sweat from his eyes.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Ainan dove forward and viciously struck Thranduil's blade aside, sheathing his own to the hilt in the King's shoulder, thrusting him back against a pillar. Thranduil screamed against the agony, quickly choking it off as Ainan's silver-blue eyes blazed into his own.

"You lose, muindor," he whispered softly, his voice haggard with exertion and pain, his face not an inch from his hated adversary's.

"Not yet," Thranduil gritted out, his face grim. Ainan blinked slowly and glanced down at the King's dagger- impaling his side.

"Adar!" Legolas screamed again, breaking free from Haldir but Kirar wrapped his arms around the young elf.

"No, my prince!"

The evil elf stepped backwards, a gasp escaping his lips as he wrenched himself from the end of the blade and ripped his from the King's shoulder with a vicious twist. Thranduil groaned and pressed a hand to the freely bleeding wound as he slumped against the wall, his legs buckling.

The King had not managed to strike a fatal blow, knowing that his wife still loved her brother and would not have him slain.

But Ainan was bleeding badly by now. The wound in his shoulder stained his once-white shirt a dark, ugly crimson and now the blow to his side had torn it again. His face was white as the marble pillars.

Stumbling backwards, dizzy with blood loss, pain and rage, his heel struck the first of the broad dais stairs and he crumpled to the ground. Ainan fell hard on his side, managing to stagger back to his knees, his sword hanging from his limp fingers. He gasped in labored breaths as Thranduil slowly pushed himself away from the wall, a hand pressed to his shoulder, sword still raised.

Summoning the last of his fearsome anger, Ainan lunged to his feet with a hiss, his blade scything out, aiming at the King's neck. Thranduil dodged the fatal blow, seized his brother-in-law's arm and threw him to the floor.

Ainan fell hard and did not rise again. He rolled onto his back and Thranduil quickly kicked the weapon from his hand, his sword pressing warningly over the traitor's heart. Hate-hardened eyes blazed into his own and Thranduil felt the weight of that gaze as he never had before.

Ainan realized he had lost; he could not fight nor indeed even rise and the defeat shone bitterly in his silver-blue eyes. Drawing aside his bloodstained tunic to expose his chest, he raised pleading, cold eyes to his brother-in-law.

"Finish it quickly, Thranduil."

The Elvenking's sword came up and leveled at his throat. Then slowly lowered.

"I swore after I buried my father that I would not bury another family member," Thranduil vowed quietly, struggling to keep his legs from buckling.

"Bind him!" the King thundered at several of his guards who leapt immediately forward at his command. "Perhaps a few hundred years in the dungeons will mellow your temper, muindor."

Seven elven warriors surrounded the trapped elf. Ainan glared at his brother-in-law with acute hatred, never moving as the guards bound him in chains and dragged him away.

Thranduil leaned heavily upon his sword, gasping as Kirar released Legolas who ran to his father and hugged him tightly. But he felt no triumph- only a nearly overwhelming sense of relief and mingled sadness for all the pain and heartache that had been caused by all of this. There was no triumph for those families who had lost those dearest to them because of Ainan. His death would not bring their loved ones back.

But it was over at last.

Nárvenien had regained her feet, leaning against one of the scarred columns in the great hall, her face white and lip bloody as her eyes nailed themselves to the sleek form of her father who also stood as still as stone, watching everything with a keen, wary eye, looking to his master for instructions. There was a dark glint beneath those half-lidded eyes.

As the guards advanced towards him, Tindómëtir suddenly snatched a javelin he had held concealed beneath his cloak and cast it with a savage snarl- not at the King- but at Legolas.

"No!" Thranduil screamed, leaping up with lightning quickness.

But not quick enough.

It happened so fast Legolas didn't even see it. He felt a sharp shove between his shoulder blades and the breath expelled his body with a whoosh as he hit the stone hard. A heavy weight thudded painfully onto his legs and the prince quickly wriggled free, spinning around in horror.

"Haldir," he whispered in anguish.

When he had seen the javelin, Haldir had not hesitated to put himself between his young friend and death.

A dozen hands laid hold of Tindómëtir, wrestling him to the ground. A vicious blow rendered the mad elf senseless and other hands lifted him and dragged him away as Rameil and Ancadal immediately rushed to their fallen captain's side. Legolas crawled towards him who lay prone on the ground, his blue eyes wide, frantically searching, praying, hoping his uncle hadn't found one last way to wound him.

Kirar had crouched beside the Lórien commander worriedly as others of his command gathered around their lieges. One of them was anxiously pressing a gauze pad to the King's wounded shoulder.

"Oh, Haldir, I'm so sorry," Legolas whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry- everything I said, I did. I'm sorry!"

"Please, my prince we must tend him," Kirar said, gently pushing him aside as another soldier gingerly pulled free the javelin that had pierced the elf captain's side.

Legolas scrambled hastily back out of the way and nearly fell, staggering to regain his footing. His head swam and he suddenly realized that he hurt all over. Turning away from the sight of his friend's bleeding form, he caught sight of Lóthmir, kneeling over his father's lifeless body.

Legolas dropped beside him and enfolded him in his arms. But his friend pushed him away with a shake of his head. He seemed not to see the small, silver knife embedded in his father's throat nor the glassy look in his half-open eyes.

"He's not dead, Legolas," he said though his voice choked with sobs. Denial was etched into every line of his young face. "He's-he's just sleeping right? He's going to wake up any minute now!" he gasped desperately, urgently shaking his father's shoulder. "Come on, Adar, wake up! We've got to go home. Naneth'll be worried…"

Legolas felt his throat clench and he knew tears were streaming down his face. He grabbed his friend's arm and drew him tightly against him.

"Lóthmir, he-he's not going to wake up," he whispered. "He's dead, all right? He's not…He's not coming back." The thought that this elf had saved the lives of his father and himself at the cost of his own was tearing the prince apart inside. He hadn't known he was capable of hurting this bad even in his uncle's hands.

Lóthmir trembled fitfully in his arms, staring wide-eyed at nothing. Then, his face crumpled and he buried his face in the shoulder of his friend's tunic, crying as though his heart would break. The prince stroked his hair gently, looking anywhere but into Tirien's empty gaze

Rameil knelt beside the both of them and gently closed the elven guard's eyes as he drew his grey cloak over the still corpse. Legolas hugged Lóthmir harder, his voice shaking.

"Shh, it'll be all right, mellon-nin." He didn't know how it could be though…

It would never be all right.

Chapter Text

Legolas shifted slightly as consciousness lapped at the edges of his mind, drawing him towards wakefulness. For a heart-pounding minute, he couldn't remember where he was or how he had gotten there and he sat up in alarm, sweat breaking out over his brow. But a gentle hand pressed him tenderly back amongst the pillows. Then he realized that he was covered in an elvish blanket and his wounds had been cleaned and bound.

"Rest awhile yet, ion-nîn." Legolas smiled through closed eyelids as he heard that deep beloved voice.

"Adar?"

"I am here Legolas," came his father's voice. He opened his eyes to see Thranduil sitting beside his bed, gazing down at him, one hand clasping his son's smaller one.

"It does my heart good to see you awake, ion-nîn. You've been sleeping for quite a while now." Thranduil fell silent, his blue eyes cast to the sheets as though he couldn't look up at his son's face. Legolas too bowed his head; he understood if his father was angry with him. So much had been lost because of his actions. Thranduil sighed and, despite himself, Legolas looked up.

"I cannot help but feel… if I had been honest with you and warned you about your-your uncle… this wouldn't have happened." Legolas glanced at the sheets, biting his lip. He hated to see his father so guilt-ridden and grief-stricken.

"It is not your fault, Adar. It's mine… I was a fool to trust him…" Thranduil's head shot up and he took his son firmly by the shoulders.

"No, Legolas. Don't you dare think that this is your fault! You could never have known about him. You did nothing wrong," the Elvenking said fiercely. Legolas nodded slowly, though he wasn't sure he believed it. Silence spiraled for a few moments.

"Where is he?" Legolas wondered suddenly, silently asking himself if he really wanted to know the answer to that. Thranduil shook his head.

"Do not worry about that now, my son. He can do no one further harm." Legolas felt anxiety gnaw at his insides as he glanced hesitatingly up at his father.

"Adar, Naneth… is she…?" he trailed off.

"Resting, my son." Thranduil smiled quickly to reassure his son. "She'll be fine though she will be better when she knows you are awake," Thranduil whispered, smiling softly as he wiped the tears of relief from his son's eyes but Legolas turned his face away.

"How's Lóthmir?" he murmured. Thranduil sighed deeply and looked away. The young elf had been inconsolable though he insisted on staying by his friend's bedside every day while he slept, refusing to be budged until Thranduil himself carried him out, half-asleep.

"I sent him to his rest an hour ago," Thranduil said softly.

Legolas nodded, remaining silent.

"A-and Haldir?" he asked, casting a swift glance up at his father.

"Also resting," Thranduil said gently. "And you should as well, ion-nin." With a suddenly, businesslike air, Thranduil tucked the covers up to his son's chin and laid a kiss on his son's forehead. Legolas looked up into his father's face.

"I love you, Adar," he said. Thranduil embraced his son fiercely, tears pricking the king's eyes.

"I love you too, ion-nin. Sleep well."

And he slept long and deeply. When he finally awoke, he felt refreshed and alert for the first time in what felt like forever. Legolas awoke early the following morning and for a few minutes just lay underneath his warm coverlets, watching the red sun rise over the winter tipped world through his window. Slowly he sat up, mindful of his healing back. He flexed his wrist which had had a bracing cloth wrapped about it and already felt much better. He glanced out of the window and smiled for the first time in what felt like forever.

Changing out of his sleeping clothes, he didn't quite know what he was going to do with himself. He hadn't been allowed to do anything by himself in such a long time, he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have his life in his own hands again. It was a bit of a shock to be able to wake up in the morning with a sense of hope and that he could live his life again. And he was lucky indeed to still have that life.

Anxiety for his friend quickly paced him down the halls towards the healer's wing.

Rameil and Ancadal both looked up as he entered and he paused, hesitant to intrude but Ancadal motioned him inside with a smile.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired.

Legolas answered in the affirmative, his eyes locked on Haldir's still form.

"How is he?" he asked quietly, feeling guilt color his heart again.

Ancadal touched his bed-ridden friend's arm lightly.

"Sleeping still. And good thing too."

"So, he'll be all right?" Legolas sighed with relief, feeling a little better. Rameil smiled reassuringly at him and stood with a muffled groan stretching the kinks out of his back.

"He will. But I swear if I do not get some sleep myself I shall collapse here," he muttered, clapping Ancadal on the shoulder as he passed out the door.

Legolas smiled as the other elf rubbed his own eyes tiredly but unwilling just yet to leave his friend in case he woke up. He was out of danger now though it had been a long worrisome night.

Songs would be sung about the Great Battle of the Halls. They were all terribly lucky to be still alive. It had been touch-and-go for quite a while there. Legolas looked around the healers' ward which had become all too familiar in the past days. Across from Haldir's bed, he saw Galion's still form lying beneath the sheets, his head swathed in bloody bandages. But he seemed to be breathing easy and Legolas smiled in relief at the butler who had fought so hard to save them from Ainan's guards.

Thinking of his uncle again made him shudder and he pushed back the memories, returning his gaze to his sleeping friend.

Haldir looked peaceful lying there. So unlike the last time Legolas had seen him sleep: bloodied, bruised, hovering somewhere between life and death on a cold prison floor. It eased the young elf's heart to know his friend would be all right. He looked up and caught Ancadal gazing at him with a smile.

"Go on, Legolas. We'll let you know when he wakes. You shouldn't hang about here all day," he said.

Reluctantly, Legolas rose, promising to come back later. He turned at the door and shifted awkwardly.

"Thank you… for saving my life- and my family's," he said.

Ancadal's smile widened.

"There's nothing to thank us for, Legolas," he said honestly. "It was the least we could do."

Legolas nodded and left the room, searching out his mother in her room where she sat beside the window. Though very pale, the Queen looked a good deal better than she had. But to Legolas' keen eyes, she seemed so thin under the blankets that draped her shoulders, so fragile and he knew he would never forget that night he and his father had almost lost the greatest treasure in Mirkwood. The healers had worked steadily on her through that first night to ensure that she would live and today was the first day she had been allowed to get out of bed and sit in her window.

As soon as he appeared, she enfolded him in her arms wishing to hold him forever, keeping him always safe with her. Legolas leaned back against her, caring not that he had not been held like this since he was a very small child. In her arms, he felt safe as though nothing bad had or ever could happen. But as she held him and he breathed in her soft scent, questions began running through his head. Why had this happened? How could the one who had done this to them all have been her kin?

"What is it, my little leaf? What troubles you?" she asked, looking down into his face. She knew she would have to speak more to her son on what had happened but she was hesitant to broach that subject for fear of creating even more pain and hurt on his part.

"Why…Why was Vedhir so cruel, Naneth?" he asked hesitantly after a long moment had passed. Anariel shook her head in the face of her son's question for it had been one of her own.

"We are who we choose to be, my dove," she said softly. "Your uncle let his hatred and scorn rule him. He let the darkness consume his soul." Her eyes filled with sorrow. Her anger had long subsided and sadness replaced it for such a life to be wasted. Her brother had been great… once. He had not always been so hardened and bitter. He had not always been as he now was.

"He said tears were for children. Pain was a teacher."

"Tears, tithen, are what make us creatures of feeling- that we have not hardened ourselves to this world," she said quietly, smoothing Legolas' hair back from his face. "Even adults cry, my son," Anariel said quietly. "Pain can be your teacher- it teaches us our mistakes. But not like that. It is when that pain becomes more than punishment, more than learning that makes it wrong. What-what your uncle did to you: that was wrong." She embraced him again and he reveled in the soft brush of her hair against his cheek, inhaling her clean, sweet scent, feeling her love for him pour into his soul, soothing the aching tear in his heart.

"I was so afraid of losing you," she whispered into his hair.

"But we will discuss this later," she dried her eyes and looked out at the bright sky. "It is a wondrous day and you should be outside enjoying it."

Legolas slipped free of his mother's embrace and looked out at the sweeping green grass outside. His mother was right. The snows were melting and dripping from the trees already.

A gentle knock upon the open door made them raise their heads and Legolas looked up as Rinniad raced towards his friend and threw himself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Thank the Valar, you're all right! I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!" The elf gasped through his excitement. Legolas smiled, tightly gripping his friend's shoulder.

"I know. I'm glad you're all right too." He had forgotten his friend during his imprisonment and thought now of how anxious and fearful it must have been for him, not knowing where his friends were or what was happening to them.

"Thanks for taking care of my mother, Rinniad," he said solemnly and the other elf blushed and shrugged noncommittally.

"It was more she taking care of me."

Anariel smiled from her seat by the window. Legolas glanced at her then over his shoulder for the inevitable other who always trailed after Rinniad but did not see him.

"Where's Lóthmir?" he asked softly. The happy smile on Rinniad's face slipped and his eyes darkened with sorrow.

"He's with his mother," the other elf said quietly.

Tirien's body had been taken down into the cool cellars to preserve it until they could bury it. The kingdom was slowly pulling itself back together and unfortunately the dead had yet to be cared for until a few more issues were sorted out.

Rinniad's face brightened slightly as he added.

"We're going to the waterfall later, if you want to come."

"That wretched waterfall is more trouble than its worth," Anariel laughed, remembering well the last time the boys had played in its depths and broken Lóthmir's arm jumping from the rocks.

"Aw, Naneth, please? We promise no jumping," Legolas swore. Rinniad nodded his agreement vigorously.

"We're just going fishing- I swear!"

Anariel smiled, realizing she was unable to refuse her son anything.

"All right. But take an adult with you," she said, wishing she could go with them. At their protests that they were fully able to take care of themselves, the Queen grew severe though a smile barely tugged at her lips. "Go on both of you before your father finds out and has a fit!" she laughed, knowing all too well that Thranduil would do no such thing and on the contrary would have been the first to suggest the rock-jumping.

Legolas quickly pulled Rinniad out of the room and promised to meet them in a little while, wanting to check on Haldir one last time.

It was uncomfortable at best trying to sleep. His back burned and his side ached. He couldn't get comfortable. With nothing but the silence as his companion every muscle ache and injury that he had ignored for so long rose to the surface to trouble him. He still had the remnants of a headache but the long sleep had done him good and he could sit up without feeling too dizzy. He was thankful that Rameil and Ancadal had gone to their rest; they had needed it as much as he.

Unable to stand sitting still any longer, Haldir threw back the covers and wobbled to his feet, feeling the stinging pain in his side and back as he moved but he didn't care. Moving gingerly as his injuries stiffened, he indulged himself in a long bath which the servant who attended his room had kindly drawn up for him. Scrubbing away the remaining layers of filth and blood and sweat that caked his hair, he allowed himself to relax a little, pushing back the unpleasant memories to a far corner of his mind and soaking in the present, the touch of warm water soothing his aching muscles.

Feeling clean for the first time in days as he pulled on a fresh white tunic and dark breeches that had been left folded on the edge of his bed, Haldir combed his hands absently through his damp hair, refreshed. He didn't know what had happened to the rest of his clothes but he would not have been surprised if Vanima had burned them.

In fact, he would have welcomed it.

The healers' ward was a series of rooms on the east side of the palace. Rooms stretched down a long corridor intermittently on either side. Each chamber housed two beds with a large fireplace and multiple shelves, drawers and cupboards faithfully stocked by servants each morn with bandages and cordials, salves and vials. The healers themselves had quarters close by but for the most part, until recently, the ward had remained empty for some time for the elves had been at peace.

Legolas paused in the long corridor, stopping a young servant maid leaving one of the rooms with a bundle of sheets under one arm.

"Excuse me, is one of the Lórien elves here?" he asked hesitantly. She smiled.

"Certainly, your highness." She pointed down the hall on the left.

"May I see him?"

Vanima smiled.

"I think he would enjoy the company. He's been asking for you."

Legolas grinned tentatively back and moved towards the door. He knocked timidly and poked his head in, a smile brightening his features as he caught sight of his friend, perched on a seat near the window. Throwing the door open wide, the prince rushed into the room.

"You're all right!" Legolas exclaimed, unable to contain his relief as he threw his arms around the elf.

"Easy," Haldir grunted as the prince's overenthusiastic embrace pressed on the wound in his side. But he returned it full force anyway, overjoyed to see his young friend alive and well.

Legolas pulled back sheepishly, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Do you want to come with Rinniad and Lóthmir and I? We're going fishing," Legolas said, looking up at him hopefully. "Please. My mother said we can't go otherwise."

The healers had ordered him to be careful and not overexert himself but he felt the need to stretch his legs.

"Bother the healers. Let's go," Haldir laughed, getting to his feet. Legolas eagerly jumped up and out the door.

They returned at dusk, hair damp and teasing Rinniad how he had fallen in while trying to snare a large river trout. Though spring had unofficially come, the water was still icily cold. They had managed to pull him out and keep from being sucked under, the only injury being his pride and the loss of their catch.

Lóthmir and Rinniad had to clean up before supper so Legolas and Haldir said farewell to them in the entrance hall, climbing the stairs to the healers' wing. At the landing, a woman walked up to them, her face worried as she stopped before them, wringing her hands agitatedly.

"Can we help you?" Haldir asked kindly, noticing she looked distraught.

"I am searching for my husband, sir," she said timidly. She had decided to check the healer's wing first, not having the courage to go down to the cellars where the bodies of the dead were being kept.

"What is your name?" Haldir asked, his face suffused with the knowledge of far too many losses already.

"Brethiel."

That name struck a chord in Haldir and he frowned, trying to remember where he had heard it before. It sounded so familiar but before he could think of it a sudden clattering rushed down the hall, followed by a healer's sharp protestations.

"You must rest, sir!" the red-faced healer was saying adamantly. "You're fortunate that knife stroke wasn't a little closer or you would be dead."

"I don't care for that!" The soldier argued back heatedly. "I have to find my wife!"

Haldir blinked, the voice triggering a memory in him.

"Can-can you do something for me?… My wife's name is Brethiel; will- will you tell her I did my best? That I love her?"

He glanced at the woman beside him who was trembling slightly. He took her arm and guided her around the corner. The two combatants stood a little further down the hall and in the heat of their argument, had not noticed the three there.

"He will not have to leave the ward, madam," Haldir reassured the healer then turned a smile on the soldier. "Your wife is looking for you," he said quietly.

The young guard's lips split into a wide grin as he turned about. The woman gave a little squeak between surprise and joy and threw her arms around his neck as he took her into his arms.

When he could finally release his wife for a moment, the guard seized Haldir's hand in a wringing grip.

"Thank you," he said fervently. Haldir smiled and returned the handshake, glad at least for this small mercy that pierced the darkness that had lain for so long over the castle.

They all stayed up late into the night, talking about things to happen in the next few days, the future that Legolas had never thought he would see. And the world did not seem so dark after all. After a while, warmed by the fire and a hot meal, he drifted into a half-doze, waking only dimly when he felt Haldir lift him up and carry him into his chamber. The servants had made up a pallet for him in Haldir's room and Legolas curled up almost immediately and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Legolas tossed uneasily beneath the sheets, small mewling whimpers escaping his lips. He felt it again- even in his dreams, even though his uncle was far away and could hurt him no longer. He could still feel it! The rod on his back… the fingers around his neck… Ainan plunging his knife into his mother's helpless body again and again and again…

The young prince bolted up shaking and sweating with remembered fear. It was dark and he froze, afraid that if he so much as twitched he would see those silver-blue eyes glaring at him from out of the shadows. Coming for him again…

"Legolas?" a voice asked softly from out of the darkness and the prince jumped, badly startled. He whirled with heart hammering towards the shadows, scuttling frantically backwards until his back struck the wall.

Haldir sat up, the moonlight filtering through the windows and glimmering in his silver hair. Wincing slightly as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed, he slithered onto the mattress beside the prince.

"What's wrong? Why are you awake?"

Legolas relaxed slowly, waiting for his heart to stop thrumming in his ears before he spoke to the other elf then realized he could think of nothing to say, feeling rather awkward and embarrassed that he had woken his friend because of a nightmare.

"What is the time?" he asked at last.

"Hours before dawn," Haldir answered promptly with a glance out at the curtain shrouded window, still dark and moon framed as he tugged his sleeping tunic closer over the bandages wrapped around his chest. "Now, what is really troubling you?" he asked, looking steadily up at the young prince. He knew what nightmares Legolas must be suffering; he himself knew them all too well.

"I see it still," Legolas said quietly after a long moment of silence, looking down at his upturned hands, lying pale in the moonlight on top of the white sheets. He fisted his hands in them agitatedly with a self-loathing groan.

"Why? Why do I have to see these things? I feel so foolish…" he moaned with a shake of his head, refusing to look the older elf in the eye. "He's gone, isn't he? He can't hurt me anymore: I know that! Then, why do I have to remember… what he did…" Tears were beginning to sting his eyes but he pressed on, knowing he would not be able to sleep. "He made me cry like a child!" he whispered tremulously, his head bowed in shame as his voice failed him. He would never have spoken this aloud to anyone but Haldir; his friend understood more than anyone what he had gone through.

Haldir looked away uncomfortably, vividly remembering his own durance vile. Why was it suddenly so much harder to say? Haldir took a deep breath. Legolas needed to hear it more than his own selfish pride needed to keep it hidden.

"I screamed," he admitted, his curtain of hair falling in front of his face as he lowered his eyes. Realizing that Legolas watched him closely, with an effort he lifted his head and pushed his hair back over his shoulders. "When he struck me… I-I couldn't keep it back." As much as he wanted to look away, he stared right into Legolas' face, knowing it was for both their sakes.

"What you did, Legolas, is far braver than any grown elf I have ever known. For that, you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of."

He wasn't quite sure how he could say this to the young prince when he himself still felt the stigma of what had poured forth from his own mouth; I should have held out longer, I should never have given any of them the satisfaction…

Instead, he took the prince's clammy hand in his own.

"Try to go back to sleep- I'll watch over you."

Legolas looked down at the strong hand clasping his own and gave it a relieved squeeze.

"Thank you, Haldir," he said simply, not just for comforting him in this hour of darkness. For everything- for his friendship, for his protection, for his understanding, trust and, in a sense, for his love.

Haldir only nodded once, tucking the covers back up around the prince's chin.

"Îdho. (Sleep.)"

Legolas lay obediently back as Haldir gave his hand a last reassuring squeeze and eased back into his own bed. The prince watched him for a while then rolled over onto his side to get into a more comfortable position and stared at the cooling embers on the hearth. Sleep was long in coming to him that night and he kept looking back at his friend who lay still and silent but Legolas could see that his eyes were open and unclouded, watching over him as he promised.

Finally, near dawn, exhaustion overcame him and he fell into blessedly dreamless slumber.

The sun was shining brightly when he awoke. Legolas sat up, feeling as though he had hardly slept at all. Pulling a hand through his sleep-tousled hair, he tossed back his covers and crept noiselessly to his feet. He glanced down at Haldir who was still resting in elvish dreams.

Deciding not to disturb him, Legolas quickly changed into a new tunic and breeches for the day, stifling a yawn with his free hand. All of the last few weeks seemed like a dream .A horrifyingly vivid dream. But the prince knew it was all too real. Elves had died. Tirien would not be returning to his family. Nor Telas' to his.

Or Cálivien.

Legolas glanced over at Haldir again and found those grey eyes looking at him. He offered a smile and a good morning. Haldir replied in kind and sat up, brushing his own disheveled hair off his shoulders. Legolas thought his friend looked as tired as he himself felt. Worn.

A soft knock at the door announced Vanima who grinned happily at them as she brought in the midday meal. Two bowls of steaming broth and a hunk of red cheese with a loaf of freshly baked bread enough for both of them was set upon the table in the corner between them.

"Really, you're spoiling us, madam," Haldir laughed as he took the tray from her. He turned to Legolas with an inviting smile. "What say you to breakfast in the sun?"

The prince eagerly agreed feeling suddenly ravenous, and they broke their fast on the terrace overlooking the Queen's gardens.

The winter snows were melting. The ice that had long held the forest locked in its eternal embrace had crumbled and had been swept away by the tides of the changing seasons. Spring was coming to Mirkwood again and the light tips of grass sprouted up from underneath the cold permafrost. Buds blossomed on the ends of branches and birds began returning from their winter nests.

Sweet fragrances drifted on the light westerly breeze, bringing with it the scent of warming earth and rain. Legolas leaned his elbows on the balcony railing, watching the small spring that fed into the forest river fall from its rocky bed and wind slowly along the western hedges of the gardens. Far above, through the interlacing tree limbs, he could see the drifting white clouds.

Despite the beauty of it, his heart remained heavy as he looked down from the terrace and caught sight of the preparations taking place below on the edge of the tree line near the river. Elves in shining white moved to and fro. After breakfast, Legolas and Haldir made their way there as well.

All of their brave ones had to be taken care of. Tirien among them. Death was so permanent. Tirien had been Captain of the Royal Guard for as long as Legolas could remember. There had never been another and now, to see Sarithan temporarily taking his place, it was disconcerting and horrible, not passing him in the halls or spotting him in the courtyard at dawn where he patrolled in the early morning.

Many elves of the Kingdom had come to mourn and remember they who had been slain. Even Anariel had been allowed down from her bedchamber so that she might pay her respects to the faithful fallen. The graves faced the West towards Valinor that is even though some were empty- Cálivien's and Telas' bodies never having been recovered. A marker of white marble had been placed at one end of the gardens as a memorial for those who had fallen honored with their names carven in stone and a simple epitaph:

Valar keep these brave defenders and friends who gave their lives heroically protecting the innocent and preserving the freedom of their people. Their memories will live ever in our hearts.

The King's new councilor stood near the stone, staring numbly at his father's name. He closed his eyes momentarily then lifted his head to watch Legolas who stood with his mother and father.

"The poor child," Serkë said quietly, casting a gaze over the grief-filled elves. "It was cruel that it went on for so long."

"Did you know?" Haldir asked incredulously who had overheard the remark. Serkë glanced hesitantly at him, surprised to see the other elf standing there.

"Yes," he answered uneasily. His eyes widened in an expression close to panic as Haldir glared at him. He held up his hands supplicatingly. "Now, I-I wasn't entirely sure. He is a child after all and prone to such accidents…" Haldir shook his head and brushed a hand across his eyes, unable to take any more surprises.

"Accidents? The child was being beaten for Valar's sake! Did you not tell the Queen?"

"No! Why would I do that?" the elf gasped, shocked.

"Why would you not?" Haldir retorted angrily. "The King's son was being beaten by someone he trusted!" Haldir hissed, careful to keep his voice low. Serkë shook his head mutely, his eyes wide with horror.

"You do not understand what they would have done to me if they ever found out what I know- they would have killed me. Killed me just as they did my father." His eyes fixed upon the graves.

"Then you would have died with honor- die- rather than betray your king!" Haldir said sharply too angry to care for the ears that might overhear them.

"Had you been in my place you would not have been so quick to take such a position," Serkë retorted with an anxious glance about them.

Haldir did not bother arguing with the fearful elf and walked away in disgust.

Thranduil was still speaking.

"But this is not a time for sorrow. These brave heroes will always be honored in our hearts. And we shall see them again in the West…"

Unable to take any more grief, Legolas took one of the wandering wooded paths leading through the gardens. The espalier of pear trees which were just showing their white blossoms lined the path on either side of him and he looked at them in growing awe, wondering when the spring had suddenly come. It had seemed so dark and so forlorn for so long.

Gazing around at the bare beauty around him, he could have wept to see the sun capering among the clouds above his head. It seemed so long since he had seen the sun. But still he felt in his heart that things could not be as they once were. He had been changed by his experience. For the better or worse, he did not know. But he was not so jaded or traumatized that he could not find joy in life.

Looking back over his shoulder, he could just make out the white marker, Haldir Rameil and Ancadal standing near it with bowed heads. Thankfully, none had noticed his absence for his mother panicked if he left her sight for only a moment and that was part of the reason that he had wanted to leave so badly. He liked the loneliness, at least then no more awkward questions were asked of him and he could be alone with his thoughts.

"Legolas!" a voice hailed him and the prince stopped but did not turn around.

Rinniad ran up to him, his face at once concerned and anxious. He didn't like to see his friend spending time alone; he knew Legolas was brooding and he ached for his friend's pain, longing to take it away. But the prince interrupted him before he could say anything.

"Please, Rinniad, I- I would just like to be alone for a little."

His friend shifted uncomfortably.

"I just wanted to tell you, the trial will be soon." He shook his head and suddenly burst out in rush. "Legolas, you do not have to go. I don't want you to be even a step closer to that monster than you have to be," Rinniad said, clearly concerned for his friend's well-being. But the prince shook his head.

"No. I want to be with my mother and father." He forced his pain and sudden nervous fear to the back of his mind and smiled softly at his friend. "But, I just need a little time. To think, that's all," Legolas reassured him.

"Well, you know if you ever need someone to talk to," Rinniad shifted awkwardly but kept his gaze steady. "I'm here. You know that."

"Iston. (I know,)" Legolas said quietly, knowing his friend's intentions were noble but also realizing that he couldn't talk about this just yet. Not with them anyway.

"All right." With a last pat on the shoulder, Rinniad turned about and hurried back down the path.

It was quiet and solemn beneath the dark trees lacing overhead, shadowing the crowd gathered below. Somber silence pervaded the atmosphere but already the forest and the people seemed easier at heart than they ever had. The kingdom was already beginning to heal.

The Elvenking stood tall and straight as an oak tree upon the black marble stairs before the great gates of the palace, unknowingly standing in nearly the exact same place where his brother-in-law had pronounced him dead and first gained control over the kingdom. But the true king stood before them now and no falsehood. The relieved and joyful faces of the adulating crowd made him smile sadly. So much had been lost from this. So much trust and security and faith. It would take many years for that to even begin to be rebuilt.

"Our lives can never be as they once were," Thranduil began softly though his voice rolled out over the gathering below. "Our security has been shattered, our home violated…"

No one except those that had been present that fateful night really knew what had happened within the walls of the palace. But their hearts were grieved for the lives that had been lost and their anger great against those who had plotted against their King- many of which had been captured and imprisoned. Thranduil knew many of them had been coerced or threatened with harm to themselves or their families if they did not join the coup. And not one of them remained unmarked after the fight in the Great Hall. But even though they had betrayed their king and country, their wounds had been treated for Thranduil was not cruel to his enemies and he was saddened to see so many young elves of the guard and even older ones that he had counted among his friends now numbered among the traitors.

Thranduil had offered them a choice: to be received back into his service as a loyal subject of the King or to accept Ainan's fate as their own.

Many chose to return to Thranduil.

However, some, like Ascadim who would leave behind a wife and two daughters, felt unworthy of Thranduil's mercy and knew their punishment was just. They would accept the consequences of their actions because they could not face their families or what they had done in the service of a madman but neither could they leave him in their pride and devotion. No matter what the cost.

Still others of those traitors and informants who helped Ainan rise to greatness were never found- until many years later, to much grief and pain.

Drawn from his sorrowful reflection by a movement at his side, Thranduil glanced up as his son took his place beside his father and Thranduil laid a hand on his shoulder, pressing him close in a one-armed embrace. On his other side stood his wife who to everyone's relief continued to heal steadily though her face was white and sorrowful. Behind the royal family, the three elves of Lothlórien stood in shadowy grey.

Legolas tensed as a group of armed guards with Sarithan at their head marched forth, Ainan and his small band between them. The elven traitors' hands were bound at the wrists and they stared darkly at their captors but they dared stir neither hand nor foot for archers stood concealed among the crowd, ready and willing with a shaft strung to bow.

Ainan's silver-blue eyes lifted and Legolas caught his breath as he found himself ensnared again in that hypnotic, hate-filled gaze. Nervous knots twisted in his stomach as he met those eyes that still appeared in his dreams. But he straightened his back as much as he could, remembering that Haldir had told him that fear was Ainan's power. Legolas firmed his jaw, deciding that he would be afraid no longer. He met his abuser's dark gaze squarely and the bitter hatred in his uncle's eyes deepened as Legolas met his stare. But those eyes did not linger as Thranduil began to speak.

"You have all been wronged by this elf," the King said, gazing around at his people, his hand tight on his son's shoulder. "Lives have been lost at his behest. Our people's blood stains the palace floors! He has named himself Bauglir- tyrant and traitor- to us all!" Thranduil's face remained hard though his voice softened.

"But, enough blood has been spilled on his account and I will shed no more in my homeland. His charges have been read. And now after looking to our ancient customs and the Valar for guidance, I shall pass my judgment," he said, every word ringing out over the gathered assembly.

"Exile."

Even now, after all he had done, Thranduil was still willing to spare the elf's miserable life, reticent to spill his blood as easily as he had spilled his people's. And though many scowled at the elven traitor and thought he deserved much more, they accepted their king's judgment.

"I cast you out, Ainan," Thranduil ordered grimly. "You no longer have ties to any royal family of Mirkwood. You are disgraced. You may not return here nor to any of the other remaining elven realms even will they have you. Your only refuge lies beyond the western Seas if you so choose."

"It is just," Anariel added softly.

Thranduil griped her hand tightly and nodded to the guard at his side. Sarithan stepped briskly forward and drew his long knife. Ainan strained against his chains but the soldiers flanking him gripped him securely by the arms and shoulders to prevent him.

The border captain neatly sliced through the braids entwined into the elf's fair hair. The thin strands curled sadly on the ground. Legolas felt his heart swell with pity- to have one's braids cut from them was like having a last lifeline cut. It signified the deepest stigma and had never before been carried out in the forest of Mirkwood.

Until now.

Ainan was no longer considered an Elf- one of the noble Firstborn.

His face as anguished as any had yet seen it, Ainan watched in dull surprise as one of the guards stepped forward and unlocked the chains that bound his wrists and ankles. The manacles fell with a soft thump to the grassy earth as he raised a hand to his shorn hair.

The elven traitor stared around at all the grim faces, settling at last upon his sister's sad face and the young prince who stood beside her, stoic, silent. Ainan's silver blue eyes flared to life as he fixated them upon Thranduil, the mangled strands of his once-flowing hair swirling about his shoulders.

"You will regret this, muindor! You cannot send me away forever!" His voice rang among the trees, sending a shiver down every elf's spine. Several of the elves raised their bows but Thranduil stayed their hands.

"No! Leave him be! He has no power anymore," he said quietly. Ainan's eyes shone in the gloom as he nodded mockingly in his brother-in-law's direction.

"Your mercy is commendable, my lord." His eyes narrowed further until they were mere malicious slits in his narrow face. "But do not think me grateful for I am not."

"We will return- stronger than before! I promise you that."

He motioned for the small remnant of his followers to form behind him. The guards on either side tensed but made no further move. Ainan leaned forward and spat at the Elvenking before turning away.

"Ainan," Anariel called softly, her blue eyes radiating the pain and betrayal that was clearly tearing her apart inside. Tears flowed readily from her crystalline eyes. She swallowed hard, not quite trusting her voice as she spoke her final words to her brother.

"U-adtelia."

Do not come back.

Her brother's hate-hardened eyes stared straight back into her own.

"Nai hiruvalye gurth lintë a saer, le annath nîn. (May yours be a swift and bitter death, the one you should have given me.)" That venomous glare of pure hatred was the last Legolas saw of his uncle and it stayed, imprinted in his mind forever.

Anariel felt those words pierce her soul and she closed her eyes as Thranduil wrapped his arms around her. Turning his back to them, Ainan stalked off into the dark trees without a backward glance, his company following in his wake. A contingent of the King's guards rode after them to see that they did harm to none and truly left the elven land.

"I fear you did him too great a kindness, hir-nîn," Sarithan said gravely as he stepped up to the King. Thranduil's sorrowful eyes were fixed upon his brother's retreating back as they faded into the dusk.

"I fear you are right."

Anariel watched until her brother's form was lost to the trees then she turned, numb as a sleepwalker as the King gently took his wife's arm, supporting her as she leaned heavily upon his shoulder, bowed with pain and dark thought.

Legolas watched the small group disappear into the darkling woods. His blue eyes flickered to where Nárvenien stood, alone, at the edge of the crowd. The Elvenking had granted her amnesty for her part in the salvation of the Kingdom. However, for her mother and father, no mercy was granted and she was left alone, watching as they strode together, silent and cold as marble statues, sparing her not a glance.

Legolas saw the familiar anger in her eyes and maybe… satisfaction? He wasn't sure. The woman, sensing his gaze, turned to look at him with a cold glare and Legolas knew nothing had changed.

He looked away.

Behind him to where Lóthmir stood, his head cast down. Legolas felt remorse and grief tug at his heart as he saw the crystal tears sliding down his friend's face. The exile of his father's murderers had brought neither peace nor closure to the young elf. Only bitterness and helplessness.

Tirien had been buried that morning.

Legolas left his mother's side and walked back past Haldir with a small smile, stopping before his friends. Lóthmir was wearing his guardian's tunic for the first time today, his newly polished sword gleaming at his waist. Rinniad stood beside him proudly sporting the green and black colors of the border guards. After what they had done to protect their friend and to save him from certain death, they had more than earned that honor.

Lóthmir shot a look up at him and glanced quickly away. The prince looked at him for a moment then wordlessly folded him into a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry, mellon-nin," he whispered. Lóthmir merely shook his head and tightened his grip on his friend.

Lóthmir's mother who stood beside them smiled through her tears, knowing that her son would be all right with friends like the prince of Mirkwood.

Twilight settled over the elven palace. Night mists crept up from the black river rolling smoothly, glinting under a moon sliver. Old leaves rattled in the wind, warmed by the coming spring. A deep dusky blue sky sparkled above with a myriad of white pinpricks. Eärendil shone brightly in the West tonight and Haldir sighed, standing at his ease outside his room on the small balcony.

He knew the time was coming when he would have to leave and unspeakable longing for his home tore so strongly through him that he closed his eyes against it. Reopening them, he felt sadness tug at his heartstrings too for he knew that with his departure towards home, he would also leave Legolas behind.

Haldir had noticed the young elf was spending more time alone. More time alone than he should be. The depth of emotion that troubled the young elf bothered him. Legolas should be free now that his uncle was gone and could never hurt him again. He should be laughing and joking with his friends in the firelight, not sitting in the grass in the cold night by himself.

Haldir walked slowly out onto the wind-whipped lawn, feeling the cool breeze comb through his hair as he searched the darkness for that glimmer of gold. He found the young prince sitting silently beside the recently turned earth where the elven warriors rested. With a soft grunt as the wound in his side twinged, Haldir dropped beside him with his arms draped comfortably over his knees. Legolas started nervously before he realized who it was.

The prince had forgotten his cloak but he did not seem to feel the cold. Not far away stood his teacher, Kirar, who, under Thranduil's instruction, had been appointed Legolas' protector. Along with several other faithful elves, the group had been officially assigned the security of the royal family.

"What are you thinking, Legolas?" Haldir asked after a minute of silence, wondering what had brought his young friend out here tonight. He sensed the sadness in him and his gaze in turn alighted on the names of those had had fallen, resting last upon that name which was dearest to him.

Cálivien.

Haldir sighed when he received only silence in answer. With a sideways glance at the graven names, he looked at the elven prince. "They would be proud of you, Legolas, for what you have done."

"What did I do that was so special? I didn't do anything! If I had done something, they would still be alive," Legolas burst out, staring down at the grass between his boots.

So that was it. Haldir knew the feeling well though it was clear to him that Legolas did not deserve this guilt. Often felt by surviving soldiers after a comrade had been killed in battle, Haldir supposed it was just the same for the prince now. He felt guilty that he was alive and others had died for him.

"Haldir, how can you say they would be proud of me when I'm the one responsible for your friend being dead?" he asked quietly, his voice shivering.

Haldir looked at him, shocked.

"Legolas, you did not kill him."

Closing his eyes, the young elf just shook his head.

Wondering what he could say, the older elf looked up at the stars their fair light bathing his face in a silver shimmer.

"Look," he bade, pointing upwards.

Legolas did so and far above his head, above the interlacing boughs of the trees, stars he had never seen before had kindled above the white marker.

"Cálivien, Tirien and Telas, all of them, gave their lives for this land and gladly so that the rest of us could live in peace and happiness. They would be proud of you, Legolas, because you were brave enough to be the first to stand up, to say 'no,' that this could go on no longer. That takes a lot of courage. For that, they would be proud of you. You deserve no guilt for something you are not responsible for."

Legolas thought about that for a moment.

"I think Cálivien would be proud of you too, Haldir," he said thoughtfully.

Touched, Haldir could think of nothing to answer that and wordlessly wrapped an arm around the prince's shoulders, forcibly reminded of his brothers when they had been as young as Legolas.

"Come on. It's getting cold," he offered at last, draping his long woolen cloak over Legolas' shoulders. The prince clutched it to him as he scrambled to his feet, grateful for the warmth as he inhaled the sweet fragrance of mallorn leaves that seemed to reside in all woven make of that fair country.

The two walked back to the castle before the doors closed for the evening and made their easy way up to the healers' ward where the Lórien elves had been given guest rooms. Ancadal and Rameil were waiting for them, lighting the candles to illuminate the shadowed room.

Legolas curled himself into a chair in Haldir's room, listening idly to the older elves talk as he struggled not to fall asleep before the heat of the fire. His eyes flickered to a small wooden table at his elbow, upon which rested a bowl. The honey-glazed seeds inside it were very good and Legolas grabbed an eager handful.

"Ancadal, cut it out!" Rameil growled in irritation as a small missile soared over his head. The younger elf looked at him with a puzzled gaze and Legolas buried his nose in his hand to stifle a snort of laughter.

Across the fire, Haldir gave him a conspiratorial wink, another pip ready between thumb and forefinger.

"Really, now! That is enough!" The dark-haired elf protested as the projectile struck him between the eyes, leaping to his feet and glaring round at them all.

Unable to contain his mirth at the sight of his friend with the sticky seeds clinging to his dark tresses, Haldir burst out laughing.

Rameil rounded on him, glaring fiercely but the effect was ruined somewhat by the broad grin twitching the corners of his lips.

The room erupted in an all out seed fight. Legolas and Haldir took cover behind the armchairs as Ancadal threw himself behind the bed, pelting unfortunate Rameil, who had been caught in the open, with the sticky seeds.

"What in Arda is going on in here?" Vanima asked as she entered the room, looking around at the destruction with horror dawning on her face.

All four of them froze, guilty smiles spreading across their faces.

Rameil cleared his throat nervously and righted the chair he had pulled down to crouch behind. They were all out of breath from laughing so hard and quite covered in stickiness and bits of seeds. Ancadal plucked one out of Rameil's hair and ate it with relish as the dark-haired elf glared at him.

Vanima eyed the recalcitrant elves sternly but the barest hint of a smile at the corner of her lips betrayed her as she bent down to pick up a rumpled pillow.

"Settle down," she chided lightly as though they were little elflings that were misbehaving. She cut a glance at Legolas and Haldir. "You two at least should be resting before you break those stitches I have so carefully bestowed on you."

Legolas and Haldir exchanged mock-sheepish looks, trying futilely to control their laughter. Vanima, scowling through her own chuckles, shooed his highness off to bed while tossing pillows at the Lórien elves to put away.

The very old and long untreated arrow wound in his shoulder was enflamed and hurt abominably but he had dealt with worse over his long imprisonment and only rubbed absently at it every now and then, his mind on the little child sleeping in the next room.

"I didn't protect him. I let this happen... I should have known," Thranduil mourned, dropping his head into his hands.

A whisper behind him and the soothing scent of lavender told him who it was before her hands settled on his shoulders.

Anariel's sorrowful gaze looked down at the top of her husband's golden-crowned head. She knew he was not the King now, he was a father, guilt-ridden and broken-hearted because of something he could not have controlled. She wrapped her arms around him and held him to her and he clung to her. Ever since his imprisonment, he had thought ceaselessly of her, of his son, in his brother-in-law's hands, fearing what he might do to them.

Now, he swore to himself that he would never let this happen again. Not to his son, not to his wife, not to his people. Thranduil spoke slowly, diffident to reopen old wounds that he knew pained his wife still. Her brother had always been a difficult subject to broach- and now she had moved him to mercy and not condemned him for high treason! He shook his head and said nothing, willing to wait a little for the ire to cool.

But, as she always did, she sensed the strain in him and pulled slowly away, looking up into his face.

"My brother was very jealous- for many reasons," she said, not willing to discuss those reasons. There were darker secrets still that she kept close and would never speak aloud again. Even to her husband.

Thranduil sighed softly and thought a little while before answering.

"You remember at your father's palace, my friend was accidentally killed- he was found on the riding path with his neck broken." He fell quiet and shook his head. "I knew better. No rider was more skilled than Rochir. I wondered but I…" He took a steadying breath and reached for her hand which she gripped without hesitation.

"I know now that if I had gone with him instead of taking that picnic with you by the river, that I would have been dead too."

He looked up at her, her hand still clasped in his. He didn't know if it was for support or to keep her from turning away from the hard truth. She shook her head slowly, touching the wound in her side as it twinged.

"You do not know what he suffered."

"That does not give him the right to inflict suffering on others. On our son!" Thranduil said heatedly, simultaneously admiring and irritated with his wife's gentle mercy.

Anariel wordlessly shook her head. As much as he had warranted death by his actions, she could never have consigned herself to ordering the execution of the last of her lost family.

Thranduil understood more than she knew and sighed heavily, looking away from her but still keeping her hand.

"You abandoned your family for me," he said softly.

Anariel was silent as she knelt before him. Taking his face in her long-fingered hands, she looked up into his eyes.

"You and Legolas are my family."

She spoke softly but full of sincerity. The Queen's eyes lingered from her husband's to the doorway where a small figure stood near the doorjamb, starting as he realized he'd been discovered.

Anariel beckoned him into the room and Legolas came willingly into his mother's arms, curling against her shoulder as she reseated herself beside her husband. She stroked his hair gently, no longer feeling the gut-wrenching terror thrumming through him. But it had been replaced by a slower fear, a more troublesome emptiness that worried her for more than the fear had.

Thranduil looked keenly at his son as Legolas hesitantly looked up at him. The Elvenking was smitten to the heart by that look and he knew he would never forget the image of his child, bloodied and sobbing, apologizing to him… for being born! And his anger against the one who had done this made his voice tremble as he spoke.

"How long, Legolas?" the King asked, his heart breaking within him to see such a vacant look in his son's eyes.

Pressing himself closer into his mother's arms, Legolas told him without looking up, ashamed and afraid that his father would be angry with him for allowing it to go on for so long.

"Why did you not tell us?"

Legolas shifted, agonized. He had constantly denied to himself that what had happened was real. If he ignored it, it would go away but it had not been so and now so many had suffered because of his silence. He could never have told his mother and father about it though. Ainan had threatened to kill them if he told and then his friends…

"I… I couldn't," he mumbled.

Thranduil sighed but he did not blame his son. He still had not told his wife all of what had happened down in the dungeons between her brother and himself. And he wouldn't either so he could understand Legolas' reluctance. He understood his brother-in-law well now and had an idea of what had been demanded of his son for his silence.

He shivered and laid a hand on his boy's shoulder.

"You know you can always tell us anything, my son. Even if it is horrible, we will always believe you and listen to you."

Legolas only nodded. He took a deep, steadying breath and opened his eyes slowly. And he told them.

Everything, as near as he could remember and those dark memories that he had wrestled to the back of his mind. Once begun, he could not stop. He told them everything from the very beginning on the archery field when his uncle had first struck him through the long, bitter nights of countless beatings with the horrible rod, the confinement for hours at a time in the dark, the whippings and finally the horrible abuse in the lower dungeons of the palace. It felt as though he were squeezing poison from his skin, all of the feeling he had kept bottled up, things he hadn't even told Haldir yet and his parents encouraged him if he stopped for shame or remembered fear. And with each turn of his tale, his mother's face grew whiter and his father's darker.

By the time, he had finished, they were all crying and Thranduil was thankful the elven traitor was gone from his lands before he caught up his sword and went after him.

Legolas lay back in his mother's arms, drained from reliving those wretched memories and buried his face in his mother's shoulder as she cradled him. After a moment, he looked up into her rapidly blinking eyes.

"Please, Naneth, don't cry. I'm sorry," he whispered, his throat clenching. "I should have said something sooner… I should have told… but I-I was too cowardly and… stupid to realize…"

A single tear spilled over his cheek and splashed onto his mother's hand. She clung tighter to him, shaking her head determinedly.

"No. No, my little one. There was nothing more you could have done. You were smart and brave to face all that you did, all alone, oh, my child," she murmured into his hair, squeezing him even tighter.

"Now, now, my dear, you'll choke the poor boy with all your smothering," Thranduil chided lightly. Anariel looked sharply at him.

"I do not smother! Do I, Legolas?" she asked of her son but Legolas merely attempted a smile in answer to his parents' lightheartedness and the ache in his chest eased.

His mother had said he was brave.

But the smile faded as he recalled something else.

"Ved- he said I needed to grow up. I couldn't be a child anymore. I had to grow up and take the pain," Anariel felt more tears prick her eyes as she drew her son to him in a tight embrace.

"I would that you stay a child forever, tithen nîn (my little one)." He pulled away from her slightly, looking up into her gentle face.

"Can I Naneth?" She smiled sadly in return. He was still her innocent little boy though much of that innocence had vanished from behind those beautiful blue eyes as she stroked his cheek.

"For a little while, my brave little boy. It is not yet time for you to grow up; you have years of happiness ahead of you yet." The prince smiled weakly, fluttering on the edges of sleep, exhausted by his tale. Anariel leant forward and buried her face in his soft golden hair, tears gathering in her eyes for son and brother both

The little family stayed like that for a long time. His mother stroked his golden hair and held him against her while his father wrapped his arms around both of them, a feeling of safety and peace surrounding all as the room slowly darkened as their servant softly lit the lanterns and stoked up the fire in the massive fireplace. It was very late and at last the King stretched and yawned, having drifted into a half-doze himself.

"I'll take him back to his bed," Thranduil volunteered, lifting his little son carefully into his arms, cradling him against his chest. He felt how thin his child was and his heart nearly broke, realizing how close they had come to losing him.

Legolas' room had been moved from that chamber of nightmares to a new, clean room overlooking his mother's gardens. The Elvenking tucked his son into his own big bed, draped with dark green coverlets. Legolas woke as his father drew the covers to his chin. He smiled sleepily up at his father who kissed him on his brow as he drifted off again. Forcing the memories to the back of his mind, the prince fell asleep with thoughts of the day and how it had been the happiest day of his life in a long time.

The bite was gone from the chill in the castle and every room blazed with warmth and light and happiness such as it had not seen in a long while.

"I will never forget what you have done for me, Captain," Thranduil said quietly. "Or for my family." Haldir bowed his head but the King took his wrist in a firm grip.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. "I sign this treaty now gladly and I hope that this is a sign of the friendship to grow between the elves of Mirkwood and Lothlórien," he said with a smile.

Haldir stood with Rameil on his left and Ancadal on his right as they faced the King before the assembled council the following morning. Dressed in their traditional warriors' uniforms which had been cleansed and re-stitched, they stood at ease, embroidered dark green sashes wound about their waists. The King had made them honorary warriors of the Realm, free to come and go as they pleased, always to be welcomed as heroes in his halls.

"Lord King,-" Thranduil looked up. "We could have done no less," Haldir answered for all of them.

The Queen leant forward and gifted each of them with a kiss on their brows. In turn, they bowed deeply over her hand.

"Never again let it be said that the elves of Lothlórien are treacherous or faithless for they have shown the greatest courage and fealty in protecting this home that is not their own," she said quietly.

Legolas beamed brightly, standing with his friends as he cheered with the rest as the household of Mirkwood wandered out onto the vast expanse of lawn which had been prepared for them.

Thranduil called a great afternoon feast to celebrate the lives of their fallen and of leave-taking for the Lothlórien elves would be departing soon. Many attended from the young guards- who had continued to control the borders in their monarch's absence, hearing only rumors of what had happened- to Lóthmir and his mother who were still pale with grief.

He and his friends lolled out in the sunshine, basking in the first few blissful days of spring where the sun shown bright but not too hot upon their faces. They lay on their backs, feeling the wind tease their hair across their faces, and the grass hissing around them, the trees sighing in the peace at last.

Lóthmir opened his eyes as a cool shadow fell across his face and opened his mouth in greeting but Haldir held a finger to his lips, stepping soundlessly over to Legolas. He nudged him playfully in the side with his boot.

"Stop it, Rinniad," Legolas muttered sleepily, swatting lazily at the older elf who dodged it with a muffled laugh.

Said elf opened his eyes, puzzled until he caught sight of Haldir.

Haldir nudged the prince again with a grin at Rinniad and Lóthmir who were madly trying to control their laughter. Opening his eyes, Legolas shot a sheepish glance up at him through half-open lids. But Haldir's lips twitched in an uncontrollable grin and suddenly they all burst out laughing- the tension, fears, pain and sadness ebbing away with the sound.

Legolas scrambled to his feet, still laughing.

Haldir smiled slightly as he brushed a stray lock of hair from Legolas' face. The young prince was still thin but he looked happier and healthier than the Lórien captain had yet seen him. A wide smile broke the younger elf's face though it was tempered with sadness as he embraced the older elf, looking up into his face.

"We're leaving soon," the older elf said, his eyes betraying his sadness. Legolas too felt his heart sink in his chest.

"Goodbye?"

Haldir circled his arms around the younger elf. It was so difficult to leave after what they had gone through together. But his heart longed for home. Breaking the embrace, he knelt next to the elven prince so that they were nearly eye to eye.

"Not for ever,'" he smiled. Legolas nodded though sadness still glittered in his eyes as he waved to Rameil and Ancadal who were coming towards them, their packs over their shoulders.

In turn, the Lórien elves bid farewell to the youngsters and walked to where their horses stood already saddled and waiting

The prince watched as the Lórien commander mounted his steed, Rameil and Ancadal impatiently waiting and eager to be off. They all turned once and waved to the King and Queen who had come to see them off along with other members of the guard and household for a royal send-off.

Legolas sighed, waiting until the figures of the Lothlórien elves disappeared under the hanging tree shadows. Then, he felt Rinniad wrap an arm around his shoulder.

"Well are you going to stand about all day or watch me best Lóthmir in an archery contest?"

"You have the eyesight of a dwarf!" came the indignant reply from the insulted elf as Lóthmir came up beside him and cuffed him playfully across the head. "It is I who would best you!"

"You're both wrong," Legolas said with a laugh. "I'm better than both of you!"

"Oh, ho!" Rinniad chortled, a broad grin spreading across his face. "The young prince of Mirkwood wishes to challenge our skills, Lóthmir! What say you to that?"

"I accept the challenge and will gladly watch him beat you."

Mirkwood's prince laughed merrily and as he did so, lines of care that had seared his young brow were smoothed away and did not return as Lóthmir leant forward and tousled his hair. He jumped up indignantly and raced after him with Rinniad right behind him, laughing across the lawn.

Legolas was not fully healed by any means. It was true his physical scars would fade with time but he had been badly hurt by someone he had trusted, whom his family had trusted. He had been shamed and taught self-hatred and loathing. Such wounds would take a long time to heal- if they ever did.

But he had also learned love and loyalty and friendship which rose above all shadow. Light and happiness always came after the darkness. Spring after the cold bitterness of winter.

And at last, healing could begin for them all.

-The End-