The deep, mellow tones of the hunting horns sounded, and Elves hurried from their homes to gather in the clearing near the middle of the settlement. Near the edge of the clearing, Doronrîn, the settlement's chief herbalist and midwife, looked up from the patch of chamomile she had been showing to the children of the delvings. "The hunters have returned," she observed.

"Can we go and meet them?" Legolas asked excitedly. "I mean, may we go?" The other children took up the plea, and Doronrîn sighed. She sat back on her heels.

"Has the afternoon gone so quickly?" she asked. "I suppose our lesson is over for the day. You may go and meet the hunters, but do not be underfoot." In truth, Doronrîn was eager to meet the hunting party as well. Her husband had led this particular hunt, and she wished to welcome him home. She stood and brushed leaves from her skirt as the children raced off. Legolas paused, then slipped his hand into hers.

"I want to go with you," he said. Hand in hand, they walked to the clearing.

The hunt had been a successful one. The hunters laid their prey out to dress it as Galion and Luindil stood over them, discussing what was to be done with each animal. There were several black squirrels whose meat was bitter but whose fluffy pelts would make warm fur collars for small Elves. The great stag would be roasted for the upcoming Yule feast, and its hide would go to the tanners. Luindil knelt and examined the stag's large antlers.

"The King Stag's headdress needs repairs," he said. "These antlers will make a fine replacement for the old ones."

Galion nodded thoughtfully. "They will need to be dried," he said, "but I believe that they will be ready in time to complete the repairs to the headdress before the masque."

Legolas inched closer, eager to hear as much as he could about the masque. He would be allowed to sit up for it for the first time this year, and the mystery of the preparations fascinated him. Besides, if he listened closely enough, he might hear someone mention his Ada.

Suddenly, a commotion distracted everyone from the stag. A final contingent of hunters staggered into the clearing, bringing a great black bear and supporting a wounded, limping comrade. Doronrîn gave a small cry and hurried away from Legolas, across the clearing to the wounded Elf, whom Legolas recognized as Menellir, the captain of Thranduil's guards and Doronrîn's husband.

"What happened?" she asked, gently probing the large gashes in Menellir's leg. Menellir winced, but put on a brave smile for his wife.

"I was the first to happen upon that bear," he said. "I was stalking a pheasant, and it happened that the bear was doing the same. We came upon each other unexpectedly, and the bear struck first. Fortunately, I struck last. But I am afraid that you will have to wait a bit longer for the feathers for your new dress."

"I do not care about that," Doronrîn grumbled, "as long as you are safe. Come, you must see the healer now." She helped him to stand, then hooked his arm around her shoulders. Together, they hobbled off to the healer's house as Doronrîn alternated between scolding Menellir for his wound and praising his presence of mind in the face of unexpected danger.

Legolas watched them go and suddenly felt very small. The blood on Menellir's leg frightened him, and the bear's teeth and claws looked large and threatening. He retreated to the safety of a large tree and crouched down in the hollow between two roots, where he stared at the bear. Luindil and Galion squatted down and boldly examined the bear, stroking the fur and prodding it to see how fat it was. At last, they rose and conferred briefly before Galion turned away to assist with the dressing of the game.

Luindil strode towards the edge of the clearing and stopped when he saw Legolas huddled on the ground. "What are you doing hiding here, little one?" he asked.

Legolas tried hard not to cry, but his hands fluttered nervously as he struggled to put his fear into words. "The bear," he said. "And Menellir was all bloody." Luindil knelt down and wrapped his own warm hands around Legolas's.

"Do not worry about Menellir," he said. "The healer will wash the blood away and perhaps put stitches in the wounds, and Menellir will be fine."

Legolas stopped shaking, though he made no move to leave his safe hiding place. "Really?"

"Yes," Luindil assured him. "If you do not believe me, I will arrange for you to visit him in a few days when he is feeling better, and then you can see for yourself."

Legolas peeked over his shoulder toward the clearing, then quickly turned away and shut his eyes. "The bear is looking at me," he said.

"The bear is dead," Luindil said. "He did not kill Menellir, and instead, he will be turned into good things for us. We will have bear meat this winter, and there will be bear grease to help keep our weapons in good condition. And best of all, we will take the bear's pelt to Lake Town with the other furs and trade it for butter and apples and wheat flour and other good things to eat. Bears are dangerous animals, Legolas, but they are very useful as well."

Legolas risked one more glance at the bear and then stood up. Luindil helped him brush dead leaves out of his hair and took his hand to walk him back to the delvings.

After a short discussion with Legolas about bears and hunting, Luindil left to go consult with Thranduil about a trip to Lake Town to trade furs. There was still a little of the afternoon left, and Legolas was free to play. He went to his chamber, opened his toy box, and took out a little toy bow of willow that Thranduil had made for him last Yule. With it went two arrows, their tips cushioned with pads of soft deerskin stuffed with grass.

Holding an arrow ready, Legolas prowled the torchlit corridors of the delvings, looking for prey to stalk. He peeked into the kitchens, but Galion caught him. "There is no prey here, little hunter," he laughed. "All the animals in the kitchen have already been caught. You should look elsewhere." He gave Legolas a piece of dried apple and escorted him back into the corridor. As Legolas chewed at the apple piece, he suddenly saw the perfect target. Gilveril came out of a door, carrying something long and shiny, and started walking down the corridor. She had not noticed him sitting by the entrance to the kitchen.

Legolas swallowed the last bites of apple, picked up his bow and arrows, and began to stalk Gilveril. He knew how to move very quietly; the previous year, Thranduil had deemed him old enough to learn to stalk squirrels and find their hidden caches of nuts with the other small children of the settlement. Careful not to make any sudden moves, he followed Gilveril quietly, on the balls of his feet, breathing through his mouth so that she would not hear him.

Gilveril turned a corner. Legolas took a deep breath and followed, bow at the ready. Suddenly, just as he turned the corner, there was a clatter, and Gilveril whirled around, grabbed him and started to tickle him. "I have you!" she cried, as Legolas shrieked with laughter. He dropped the bow and arrows, and Gilveril stopped tickling, though she still held him firmly in one arm.

"Just what were you doing?" she asked with a smile.

"I was a hunter," Legolas explained, wiggling one arm free so that he could point to his fallen bow as evidence, "and you were a big black bear, and I was hunting you."

"I see," Gilveril said. "Well, Master Hunter, next time you hunt, make sure that your prey cannot see your shadow creeping along the wall. She might be armed and dangerous." Gilveril picked up the long, shiny thing that she had dropped. Legolas looked at it curiously. It looked like a sword, but the tip was round and blunt instead of coming to a sharp point, and there was no guard on the grip.

"What is that?" Legolas asked. "Is it a sword?"

"This is my dancing sword," Gilveril said. "I am dancing in the masque this year, and I am on my way to practice."

"My Ada is dancing in the masque," Legolas said, reaching out to touch the polished wood of the grip. "Will you see him when you practice?"

Gilveril thought for a moment. "Yes," she said. "He appears at the very end of the sword dance, and he will come to our practice today so that we can rehearse the end of the dance with him."

"What does the masque look like?"

"It is exciting and mysterious," Gilveril said. "I cannot explain it. You will have to wait and see for yourself."

"Is Ada a good dancer?"

Gilveril thought for a moment. "I think he is," she decided. "I have not seen very much of his dancing, though, so I cannot say for certain."

"Luindil says that Ada is ill," Legolas said. "He is breakable like glass right now, so you should be gentle when you dance with him."

Gilveril looked serious and nodded. "I promise I will be very gentle," she said. "I need to go now, Legolas, or I will be late for practice."

Legolas wrapped his arms around Gilveril's legs. "Will you tell Ada that I love him and that I hope he dances perfectly so he will be well again?"

Gilveril looked stricken at the thought of saying something so personal to the King, but she could not deny the King's son clinging to her. "I will tell him that you miss him," she said. "Now I must go, or Mistress Innil will be angry that I am late for practice." She pried Legolas's arms from around her legs, handed him his bow and arrows and set off down the corridor to the dancing chamber.

Luindil kept his promise to Legolas, and a few days after the hunt, they knocked at the door of one of the little wooden houses that made up the settlement. Doronrîn opened it and ushered them inside.

"Hello, Doronrîn," Luindil said. "We have come to call upon your husband. Is he able to receive a visit?" He felt Legolas's hand tighten nervously around his.

Doronrîn looked down at Legolas and flashed a brief smile. "I believe he is," she said. "If you will excuse me for a moment, I will ask him." She nodded courteously and left the room. Luindil knelt down next to Legolas placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You see?" he said. "Doronrîn is not worried about Menellir, so you have nothing to fear today."

"He will not look scary? No blood?"

"No," Luindil chuckled. "If I know Doronrîn, Menellir will be absolutely clean, tidied and bandaged as neatly as you could ever hope to see. She is very thorough when she is caring for someone."

"When we have herb lessons, she always makes us wash our hands," Legolas offered, as Doronrîn assisted Menellir into the room.

"Naturally," she said, helping Menellir to a chair. "It would never do for you to examine delicate herbs with dirty hands." She turned to Luindil. "I will leave you to visit for a little while I begin to prepare our meal. By your leave." She dropped a short curtsey to the King's seneschal and left the room again.

Menellir smiled and held out his arms to Legolas. "Hello, Legolas," he said. "Luindil said that you were worried about me."

"You hunted the bear," Legolas said. "And you came back all bloody."

"Yes," Menellir said. "Hunting in the deep woods can be a dangerous business, and sometimes people get hurt. But everyone around me knew just what to do to help. My comrades took me straight home, and Doronrîn took me to the healer, and the healer gave me stitches and a bandage. Would you like to see?" He moved his robes aside so that Legolas could inspect the bandage tied around his thigh.

Legolas patted the bandage gingerly. "No more blood," he observed. "Will you be well soon?"

"I will be well again," Menellir assured him. He picked Legolas up and let the child straddle his good leg as he turned to Luindil. "In fact, I am glad that you have come. The healer has said that, while I will soon walk normally again, I am not to strain the leg. I was to take part in the masque this year, but I will not be able to do so. Do you know my part, Luindil?"

Luindil nodded. "You were to dance as a stag in the Horn Dance, correct? I do know the part; I danced it myself several years ago. I believe it was the year before Legolas was born."

"Will you dance it again?"

"I was to sit with Legolas during the masque," Luindil said. "He will be seeing it for the first time this year. If you will sit with him instead, I will surely dance your part."

Menellir turned to Legolas. "What do you think?" he asked. "Will you sit and watch the masque with me, since I cannot dance?"

"Yes," Legolas said. "I will sit with you and keep you company so that you are not sad about not dancing."

"Then it is settled," Luindil said. "I will dance, and Menellir will sit with you. But you will have to behave."

Menellir laughed. "I am certain he will behave," he said. "I am sure the King will expect no less from him."

"That is correct," Luindil said. "Come, Legolas. It is time to go home now. I think Doronrîn will have the meal ready soon, and we must not exhaust Menellir before he can eat it."

Legolas slid down from Menellir's knee. "I am glad you are feeling better," he said.

Menellir smiled at him. "So am I. Thank you for coming, Legolas. I always enjoy visiting with you."

Legolas blushed and hid his face against Luindil's leg. Luindil bowed and thanked Menellir again before he and Legolas left the house. As they walked down the path that led to the delvings, Luindil ruffled his young charge's hair. "Do you feel happier now? You can see that Menellir is safe and that the bear did not hurt him so badly that he could not be healed."

Legolas nodded. "Menellir will get better," he sang, and skipped ahead, chasing after some brightly colored falling leaves. He caught a bright red maple leaf and stopped suddenly. Luindil knelt down next to him and saw that the smile was gone from his face.

"What is it, little one?" he asked.

Legolas turned large, solemn eyes on him. "Nana was all bloody," he said.

Then Luindil knew what had troubled Legolas ever since the hunt. He picked the child up and continued walking towards the delvings, with the Queen's child held protectively in his arms. "Your nana was very bloody," he said. "Sometimes, when people are wounded, the healers cannot save them. But many more times, healers can help people to get well, just like Menellir."

"If Ada is hurt, will the healers save him?"

Luindil sighed. He had no desire to burden Legolas with any more worries than he already had, but neither did he wish to lie to the child and coat the truth of life in the forest with honey. "The first thing is that every Elf in Mirkwood will do everything they can to prevent your Ada from being hurt in the first place," he said. "But, if he is hurt, I promise you that the healers will do everything in their power to save him. Your Ada is not an easy Elf to hurt, Legolas. He does not take kindly to those who would part him from you, for he loves you very much."

"I know," Legolas said, and he twined his arms around Luindil's neck. "I love him, too. I do not want him to be hurt like Nana was."

"Neither do I," Luindil told him, and they continued on the path to the delvings in silence.

Thranduil sat back and regarded his notes with satisfaction. It had taken him the better part of the evening, but he had finally devised a trading list that would satisfy his people's winter needs and a bargaining plan that might allow for some extra treats as well. He stretched his sore neck and took a long swallow of tea. As he was clearing the papers away, there was a knock at the door. Thranduil smiled. It would be Luindil; his seneschal's regular evening visits to check on his well-being gave him comfort even as they wounded his dignity.

"Come in," he said.

Luindil came into the library and seated himself in the chair Thranduil offered. "How goes the figuring tonight, King Thranduil?" he asked.

"You may see for yourself." Thranduil pushed the trading list across the desk. "With the addition of that bear, I believe we have enough furs and goods to trade for all that we need. I will be sure to include extra measures of flour, wine and apples for the hunters who took the bear."

"Indeed." Luindil glanced over the list. "We were most fortunate in that hunt. I notice that you have listed the bear's teeth and claws as items to be traded. Why is that?"

"According to the reports from the last trading expedition, the Men of Lake Town value bear's teeth and claws highly," Thranduil said. I have no idea what use they have for such things, but I wish to purchase something special with them."

"Oh? What had you in mind?"

Thranduil focused his gaze on the fire in the hearth. He was silent for a while as he sought the words to describe his intended purchase and what it would mean to him. It was easier not to look at Luindil, though he could still feel the seneschal's eyes upon him, waiting patiently for him to speak.

"Legolas is outgrowing his shoes," he began. "They have been skillfully patched, but I think that they will not stand up to another repair."

"You noticed that," Luindil said. "I am glad."

Thranduil glared sharply at him. "Please hear me out," he said. "It is difficult enough for me to speak of this, but I will speak in my own time."

"I apologize, my Lord. Please continue."

"I will have new shoes made for Legolas," Thranduil went on, turning back to the hearth. "And they will be embroidered with glass beads. I know he has long desired such shoes, and I think he is old enough to have them. The glass beads from Lake Town are something of a luxury, but I think that the bear's claws will buy them. The new shoes will be his Yule gift." Thranduil glanced up at Luindil and gave a small, hopeful smile. "I will give him this gift myself," he said.

Luindil returned the King's smile with a broader one of his own. "Such a gift will make your son happy," he said, "but it is the love of the giver which will truly warm his heart."

Thranduil nodded. "I know," he said. "Each day, I feel my heart becoming stronger. Soon I will be able to look at Legolas and not drown in my own fear and grief. When Yule comes, I will give him his new shoes with a renewed heart."

"I have faith in you, King Thranduil," Luindil said. "I know that you will achieve your goal, for you have no other choice."

After he had arranged the details of the trading expedition, Thranduil had no desire for sleep. Instead, he went to the Great Hall. He did not light the torches that lined the walls, but he lit the candles in the two candelabra near his throne. There, alone in the empty, dimly lit hall, Thranduil began to dance. With no music and without Inglor, he danced the Hunter's Dance and reveled in the primitive joy of movement. With each leap and spin, he imagined that he was breaking further away from the dark despair that still threatened his heart.

He spun gracefully to the edge of the pool of light, sank to one knee and extended his arms. When the masque was performed, an attendant dressed in black would press a spear into his outstretched hand. He could almost feel its weight in his mind as he closed his hand around empty air. Now came the climax of this dance, the dangerous moment that Thranduil and Inglor rehearsed every day, no matter what else they were to practice. In one smooth, spiraling movement, Thranduil rose from his crouch and hurled his imaginary spear across the room.

For a moment, his body balanced precisely as it should be after such a throw. Then, slowly, carefully, he straightened and became still. Deliberately, he brought his heartbeat and breathing back to their normal rate after the wild exertion of the dance. A sudden movement caught his eye, and he looked closely at the shadows surrounding the throne.

Legolas sat huddled silently just beyond the edge of the light, wearing only his nightclothes, his hair rumpled from sleep. There was no way to know how long he had been watching his father dance. Thranduil's heart seized at the sight of him. All the strength and power that had suffused his muscles while he danced flowed out of him, leaving him drained and trembling in the cold, dark hall. His breath caught in his throat, and when he tried to reach out to Legolas, he found himself rooted to his spot, unable to move. The weight of Legolas's silence hit him as hard as it had on that terrible day when the light had gone out of both of their lives.

Summoning up all of his strength of will, Thranduil managed to break the silence. "Go back to bed, little mouse," he said. "It is freezing, and your bed is warm."

Legolas waited for a moment, then got up and walked off into the darkness. Thranduil found that his legs would no longer support him, and he sank to his knees, his breath coming in painful gasps as he shivered against the chills without and within.