Thanks to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter.

Chapter 2: Brothers

Legolas lay on his belly under the thick branches of the bush, now in full bloom.  Drooping flowers and wide green leaves hid him from sight, or at least he hoped they did, for at the end of the garden, by the beech tree that marked the boundary of his play, sat the squirrel he was tracking - chattering loudly, its tail flicking, and a nut in its small paws.  Legolas held his breath, trying to still even the slight noise of air passing his nose and lips.  Still the tail flicked and the squirrel chattered, looking in his direction.  Legolas finally gave a rather loud sigh of exasperation and buried his head in his arms. How could he possibly be tracking the squirrel when the furry critter knew he was there?  He rolled out from under the bush and lay on his back, his hands clasped behind his head, as he looked up at the canopy of leaves and the patches of blue sky.  He suddenly felt a nudge against the bottom of his foot and looked to see his brother grinning down at him.

“You are mighty easy to find, elfling,” teased Bregolas.

Despite his frustration with squirrels and the confines of the garden, Legolas could not help but smile back at his brother.  He sat up and then jumped to his feet, jumping on to the tops of his brother’s feet and holding his hands up to the tall elf. Bregolas picked him up and swung him through the air, and then sat down on a nearby bench with Legolas beside him.

“Tracking is not very exciting in the garden,” said Legolas sadly, his smile of joy at seeing his brother fading as he considered the failure of his mission.

“I imagine not,” agreed Bregolas.  He looked down at the triumphant squirrel, still chattering at Legolas as if to point out that it had won, and then tossed a small stone near the rodent, causing it to scurry up into the beech tree.  Legolas looked up at him and grinned.

“I know where the squirrel lives and he knows where I live, so tracking him is a rather silly thing to do,” announced Legolas wisely.

Bregolas laughed. “I suppose that is true. But I have good news - I have a surprise for you.”

Legolas perked up. “What kind of surprise, Bregolas?  What is it?”

“Adar has said that I may take you out into the forest and teach you about tracking.”

“Yes!” Legolas clapped his hands in joy. He jumped to his feet to stand on the bench next to his brother, leaning against Bregolas’s shoulder. “Can we stay out overnight? Can we sleep under the stars?”

“Yes, we may,” answered Bregolas, laughing as he found himself caught up in Legolas’s excitement. “We will go north . . ..”

“Can we take Urevio?  Can I ride with you?”

“Yes, we will take Urevio.  He would be sad if we did not.”

“Can Sadron come?  And Rawien?  And Bellion?”

“We will see, little one. Now, I think it is time you went inside and cleaned up for dinner.  Ada will be waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Bregolas!” cried Legolas, as he flung his arms about his brother’s neck and hugged him tightly. He jumped to the ground and then called, “I will see you at dinner!” as he ran to the palace.

Racing along the garden path to the steps of the palace, Legolas stopped where the guards were standing and announced, “Bregolas is going to take me tracking in the forest!” He bounced on the balls of his feet as the guards congratulated him, and then continued past them, running as fast as he could.  He saw that the door to Rawien and Tathiel’s chambers was ajar, and skidded to a stop outside of it.  He peeked inside and saw Tathiel sitting in her chair, skeins of yarn about her, and he knew she was making blankets for her baby.  Remembering his ada’s rule, he stepped inside quietly and in his nicest indoor voice said, “Tathiel, I am here.”

Tathiel looked up at him and smiled, then held out her arm to him.  He skipped to her quickly and leaned against her knees and big belly as she kissed him.

“Hello, Legolas,” she greeted him.  “Thank you for not startling me.”

“Bregolas is going to take me tracking in the forest,” he announced. “We are going to take Urevio and sleep under the stars!”

“That does sound exciting!” replied Tathiel, but her hand had moved to her belly and she sat up straight in surprise.

Startled, Legolas looked at Tathiel’s stomach and then cautiously touched it where he thought he had just seen movement. Beneath the silk, he felt something move and jerked his hand away. Big blue eyes turned to Tathiel in fear.  “There is something moving in you!”

“That is the baby, Legolas,” answered Tathiel with a look of wonder on her face.  She took his hand and pressed it back to her belly, moving it slightly to a spot where he could feel the baby kick again. “It is kicking!”

Legolas’s eyes grew wide with awe and he brought his other hand up to rest by the first one, moving them across Tathiel’s stomach with her guidance. He felt her whole belly move then and pulled both hands away. “I have to go tell Ada about this!” He turned and started to run for the door, and then stopped and looked back at her. “Does Rawien know your baby does that?”

“Yes, dear heart, he does,” laughed Tathiel.  “I will see you at dinner!” she called as he turned again and ran from the room.

Legolas dashed around the corner and ran into his own chamber, and then on into his father’s, where he found his father seated at his desk.

“Ada!” he called as he slammed into Thranduil’s side and then bounced on his ada’s thigh on both elbows. “Bregolas said you said he can take me tracking in the forest!  And Tathiel’s baby moves inside of her!”

Thranduil laughed at his son’s joy, but managed to slip a hand between himself and Legolas’s dirty tunic.  He stood and with one hand on Legolas’s shoulder, guided him back to his own room.

“Let us change your tunic,” he said as they walked to the cupboard where Legolas’s clothing was kept.  He untied the cords of the small tunic and pulled it up over Legolas’s head even as he asked, “Did you feel Tathiel’s baby kick?”

Legolas nodded as his father washed his face and hands with a warm cloth and then slipped a clean tunic over his upraised arms. “It kicks and I think it turns somersaults, too,” he replied when the tunic was off his face.

“Leggings, too,” decided Thranduil. “Were you lying on your belly in the dirt?”

“I was trying to track the squirrel who lives in the beech tree, but he was not cooperative,” Legolas informed him with a grin.  He had been told to be more cooperative on many occasions and decided he liked the word.

Freshly dressed and with clean hands and face, Legolas trotted after his father as Thranduil returned to his own chamber.  “Bregolas says we canride Urevio and sleep under the stars,” said Legolas.  His words trailed off as his father entered his own bathing chamber, and he saw his father’s sword hanging on the wall.  He pushed the chair from his father’s writing desk to a table below the sword and, climbing up on it and then on to the table, he was able to stand and reach the weapon.  It was very heavy, but he managed to let it slide from its holder down on to the table with the hilt resting against his chest, and then lower it so it lay flat.  He climbed the rest of the way down, leaving the sword within reach on the table.

Legolas then carefully lifted the heavy scabbard, cradling it in both hands as he looked at the runes carved into the leather. He grasped the hilt of the sword with one hand and attempted to raise it, but found he had to use his other hand to hold it upright.  He scowled as he looked at his small hands.  Why would they not grow faster?  He returned his attention to the sword, grasping the hilt in his right hand, while his left supported and guided it, and moved it slowly, as if blocking an attack.

“I have you now,” he muttered as he thrust at the unseen enemy. “You will not escape the sword of Legolas, Warrior of the Woodland Realm!”

He lifted the sword high, as if in triumph, but the sword continued up and out of his hands! 

“Come, mighty warrior, it is time for dinner,” laughed Thranduil as Legolas spun on his heel to face the one who had taken his prized weapon.

“Ada, when can I have a sword?” asked Legolas as he watched Thranduil place the sword back on the wall where it belonged and move the chair Legolas had used to reach it back to its normal position in front of the desk. If he were going out into the dangerous forest, he should have a weapon.

“I think we have many years before we must train you to defend our people,” answered Thranduil as he held out his hand to the child. “You are not to touch the sword again without permission, Legolas,” he instructed the elfling.

“Yes, Ada,” agreed Legolas, grinning as he slipped his small hand into his father’s, and began to skip down the hall.

They were nearing the family dining area when another elf stepped from his chamber into the hall in front of them.  Legolas dropped his father’s hand and dashed wordlessly forward, leaping in the air as the elf turned just in time to catch the flying elfling.

“Lathron!” said Legolas joyfully as he snuggled against his brother’s shoulder.  “When did you get home?  Was your trip good?”

“I returned just a short while ago, my trip was beneficial and I missed you terribly,” replied Lathron as he hugged him close.  Legolas clung to him tightly, and when Lathron tried to loosen the hold about his neck, he found the small hands clasped even tighter about him and one of his braids suddenly firmly entwined in a small fist. He gave in readily and carried his little leech into the dining room.

“Someone missed you,” said Tathiel to Lathron as he sat down with Legolas in his lap.

Lathron smiled as Legolas suddenly raised his head and looked at Tathiel, and then whispered to Lathron, “Tathiel’s baby moves inside her stomach.”  He suddenly grasped Lathron’s face between his hands, ensuring his full attention, and said, “Bregolas is taking me tracking in the woods!  We are going to sleep under the stars!”  A long pause followed, and then Legolas said softly, “I do not know when we are going, but if you will be sad we can wait a few days or you could come with us.  Bregolas would protect you.”

Laughter filled the dining room, and Legolas smiled in spite of himself.  Lathron had been gone for days and he had missed him terribly, and he thought his solution rather good. He normally sat between Lathron and his ada at meals, and he moved willingly to his chair now that those on both sides of him were again occupied.   Legolas ate quietly, listening as everyone else talked and perking up in particular when Bregolas and Rawien talked about his trip.  But as soon as the meal was over, Lathron excused himself, for he was tired after a long day of travel. 

“Ada, I am tired, too,” said Legolas as he tugged slightly on Thranduil’s sleeve.

“You did play hard today,” replied Thranduil as he stood and offered Legolas his hand.  After bidding good night to everyone, Legolas led his Ada back to his room, where Thranduil helped him get ready for bed.  As soon as he was tucked in and his door closed, he slipped from his bed and padded quietly into the hallway.  Lathron’s room was close to his own, and he entered silently, before anyone saw him in the hall.  Lathron was sound asleep already.  Legolas climbed up on to the big bed, and burrowed beneath the covers, cuddling up to Lathron.  As soon as those familiar arms encircled him, he, too, fell asleep.

* * *

Thranduil waited for a few moments after tucking Legolas into his bed, and then left his own chamber to rejoin his other children in the sitting room.  He stopped at Lathron’s chamber and smiled with satisfaction to see Lathron and Legolas snuggled together in the bed.

“Is he in bed with Lathron?” asked Bregolas as Thranduil entered, looking up from where he was admiring Elumeril’s latest completed wall hanging.

“Yes, and he was so stealthy about it.  He does not know that his heart is so easily read, and that we all, including Lathron, knew he would do exactly this,” laughed Thranduil. “I hope he is not so obvious learning to track.”

Bregolas grinned. “He will learn.  He can be quiet, when he wishes to be.  We will go out with a scouting group that will be joining the Northern Patrol, and stay just for a day or so.  There are many deer in that part of the wood, though I will not plan on refreshing the cellars on this trip.”

“I have something to send to Elenath,” said Elumeril. “Will the scouts take it?”

“Yes,” answered Bregolas.  “Where do you plan on displaying this tapestry, Elumeril?”

Elumeril smiled. “It is for Lathron, a gift for his begetting day. He shall decide where to put it.”

The tapestry was passed around the room, with many murmurs of appreciation for Elumeril’s growing skills as well as the subject matter.  The relationship between Legolas and Lathron was special, and it was captured perfectly in Elumeril’s depiction of the two of them together.

“It is your best work yet, Elumeril,” said Thranduil as he bent down to kiss his youngest daughter on the top of the head.  “I am proud of you.”

Thranduil seated himself with a sheaf of parchments, drawings sent by Celebrinduil of the plans he and his craftsmen had made for talans to the south of the cavern, an improved road for delivering supplies to them, and a small bridge over the nearby creek.  Thranduil was impressed by the design, for truly a visitor who happened upon the small settlement would not know that it was present in the trees above them, and even the small buildings on the ground were well concealed.

He felt within himself for the bonds to his children, for Elenath on the Northern Patrol, Celebrinduil just a day’s ride to the south and the others with him in the palace.  He had not thought it possible six years ago that he would again feel content, but he did.  He turned his attention back to the plans, adding notations here and there with questions and suggestions.

* * *

Elrohir and Elladan led the patrol to the ridge overlooking the cave where the orcs were sheltering for the day. The sun was still high as they began to set up their archers in the best positions.  Some of the elves would block the High Pass heading towards Imladris, ensuring the orcs were forced away from their valley refuge.

Elrohir motioned to a spot that appeared to be the one marked on Elladan’s map earlier as where the lead elf would have the best view of the cave, and Elladan nodded his agreement.  Elrohir made himself comfortable in the shelter of a rock and the scrub brush around it, and with his bow comfortably at his side, began his watch of the cave entrance.  His gaze roamed the surrounding ridges and cliffs, as he mentally catalogued where each of the warriors was hidden, but returned constantly to the cave. He could feel his heart rate had increased in anticipation of the upcoming battle, and he slowed it by sheer will.  They had hours left to wait, hours that Elladan and Garthon would spend scouting ahead on the High Pass.

An Imladris call sounded indicating that all warriors were in position, and Elrohir responded immediately, for that call meant that the signal for battle now rested with him. He recalled the first time Glorfindel had put him in this position, many years earlier when Imladris was besieged.  Glorfindel himself had led the elves in the overthrow of the Witch-King of Angmar, but it was Elrohir and Elladan who had protected Imladris.  Elrohir had learned he had a knack for the timing of battles and ambushes, and had grown into that role over the centuries.

“You have excellent timing,” Glorfindel had said, then paused and added, “for an elfling.”

A smile crossed Elrohir’s face as he remembered that, for he had truly given up answering ‘I am not an elfling’ after that.  An elfling he would be until end of the Arda.

The hours passed in silence, and Elrohir found he was enjoying the sunshine and the calls of the birds as he waited.  The sun was passing into the west when noises were first heard from the cave, and all the elves perked to attention.  The bright light of the sun was hidden beyond the trees on the west ridge when the first Orc left the cave, quickly followed by others.

The first orc seemed to be a leader or captain of the host, better armed and armored than those that followed behind him.  He had bow, sword and knife, Elrohir noted. He found himself counting the archers, coming to the same conclusion Elladan had that approximately one third to one half had bows.  The lead orc stopped on the main path, calling some orders to four others who were apparently scouts.  Two jogged westward, towards Imladris, and the other two headed east.  Elrohir frowned, and sounded a call that he knew would be conflicting.  Scouts heading in both directions meant they might be fighting two fronts in the battle.

The captain, however, began to lead his host east, and Elrohir counted sixty two that followed him. When the first had reached the last of the archers, Elrohir called the signal to attack.  His own arrow flew first, and the elves targeted all the Orcs with bows first.  Their arrows flying true, orcs fell as few had any armor to protect them.

Even in the midst of the noise of battle, a cry of pain in an elven voice caught his attention, and Elrohir realized that one of the Orc archers had struck an elf.  He watched as the elf fell, and then began firing arrow after arrow at the Orcs climbing the cliff to grab the fallen warrior. An arrow passed close by his ear several moments later, and he was forced to return his attention to the orcs below him.

When he could next break to look, Elrohir noted that several elves were battling the small group of orcs that were attempting to drag the injured elf off the ridge.  His own position was such that many of the surviving orcs were now ahead of him, and he moved to a slightly higher location where he could focus his remaining arrows on the orcs assailing his fellow warrior. Around him, elves were dropping to the ground with swords drawn as their arrows were depleted, and soon Elrohir was in the same situation.  He took a moment to survey the battle and realized that the leader of the orcs was fleeing, while other orcs were drawing the elves attention away from him by continuing their efforts to capture the wounded elf. He is on some sort of mission, thought Elrohir as the lead orc disappeared from his sight.

When an elf was injured, his fellow warriors surrounded him, either protecting his position or dragging him to safety.   Several elves were guarding two who were injured, and another five were battling the orcs still harassing the injured elf on the ridge.   Suddenly, the remaining orcs gave up their fight, one of them managing to slice the leg of the already pierced elf as he retreated, but the elf was not taken. Two warriors quickly carried the downed warrior to where the other injured elves were being guarded, while the orcs fled eastward.

Elrohir watched as the handful of orcs disappeared into the forest, and he sounded the call to regroup. He began accounting for each elf in the patrol as they appeared in response. In the darkening night he counted three with more serious injuries, six with lesser injuries that would preclude further battling this night, two missing and the rest uninjured or minimally so.

“Elladan and Garthon have not returned,” said Glorfindel quietly after hearing Elrohir’s report. “They are likely following those who escaped. Those unable to fight this night will prepare to return to Imladris with a guard. The rest of us will pursue the orcs eastward.”

Elrohir moved a step towards the injured, but his eyes were drawn eastward.  Having learned the healing arts at the hand of his father, another role he served was the tending of the wounded.  Elladan shared much of the same skills, but his first priority was normally in scouting. Elrohir felt Glorfindel’s hand on his shoulder. “Tend to Berein, Elrohir.”

Elrohir turned soundlessly to face west, to an area where the injured were being tended.  Berein’s injury was severe, the gash to his leg coming perilously close to a major artery.  Blood no longer spurted from the gash due to a tightly bound cloth wrapped above the wound, but the elf was suffering from blood loss. Elrohir forced concern for his twin from his mind, and focused all of his attention on the serious wound before him.

“Build up the fire and heat some water,” he directed.  He looked into the ashen, sweat covered face of Berein, and then knelt beside him and rested one hand upon the elf’s forehead and the other across his chest.  They could not risk sedating him with the chance of battle still so high, but Elrohir could reduce his pain and ease his fears.  He felt Berein relax under his touch and appear to drift into slumber.

Elrohir mended the nicked vessel and stitched close the wound. At Berein’s head, two warriors sat with their hands upon him, their purpose twofold.  They comforted him and eased his pain with their touch and song, and in the event the pain overcame the relief they brought him, they would hold him still if he could not do so himself. Elrohir bound and wrapped the leg, and then tended the arrow wound that had brought the elf down initially.  Berein had fortunately removed the arrow instantly, but the wound edges were reddened and angry from some sort of poison used by the orcs.  Others had already covered that wound with a paste that contained an antidote to constrict the vessels and prevent further penetration of the poison.  Elrohir carefully removed that now filthy paste and cleaned the area.  He decided it would heal better without stitching, coated it again with a fresh covering of the healing paste and bandaged the wound.

The two elves aiding him still soothed Berein as Elrohir sat back on the ground, stretching his arms and neck from the uncomfortable position he had been working in.  He closed his eyes and tried to sense if Elladan was injured or dead, but could feel nothing amiss.  He pushed aside his worry again, and turned to where the next most severely injured elf lay.

“He is tended,” said Glorfindel softly as he stepped around the resting warrior.  He held out Elrohir’s pack to him, and motioned for him to follow.

Elrohir looked up to see three elves waiting.

“Elladan and Garthon are tracking the orcs east.  They are approaching the Anduin.  Come!”

Elrohir felt his heart leap in his chest, not at the thought of battling orcs, but because his brother was safe.  He fell into step with Glorfindel as the two followed quickly after the three in the lead.

“You waited for me,” he said suddenly, not slowing or taking his eyes off the terrain they were racing over.

Glorfindel laughed lightly.  “The extra hour makes little difference, especially since our scouts were following. More importantly, elfling, I learned long ago not to separate you two when one of you might be harmed.”

Elrohir smiled as he flew light-footed over the ground

* * *

Elladan counted the remaining orcs, noting the lack of bows and arrows among the remnant. What appeared to be a captain or leader still ruled the twenty survivors, and he moved among them as they rested and tended each other’s wounds.  The language was harsh and guttural, yet Elladan picked up the words and phrases indicating that the captain still had a message to deliver and his maggots would see him through.  He cursed the elves that had ambushed them – and Elladan learned that two scouts had been sent to see to the valley of the hidden elf-Lord. He smiled in grim satisfaction, for he doubted if the westward scouts had survived for more than a few hundred yards beyond their cave.

Elladan waited patiently in the boughs of a tree a short distance away until the orcs resumed their journey.  Soon they would be out of the Misty Mountains, and he had heard their references to crossing the big waters.  He followed them covertly, a slight chirping call of a night cricket the only sound to mark his passage.

Nearly a league away, Garthon passed on the call, and after receiving a response, he followed Elladan.

* * * * *