Disclaimer: It’s not stealing, it’s borrowing without permission! No profit is being made.

A/N: Last chapter folks! After this there’s just the epilogue and the sequels. It’s been a blast and I want to thank everyone who has been so very kind as to post a review of this story. As a lot of you know, this is my very first LOTR fanfic. Thanks for making it a wonderful experience.

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Legolas shut out everything but his target. His sharp eyes could make out a figure holding a bow just inside the tree line. Taking aim, he loosed his first arrow, following it in quick succession with two more. Haldir loosed his arrow at the same target a beat after Legolas. Estel held his fire, unable to see far enough to pick out a target. The figure fell, but staggered upright again and disappeared into the thick foliage. Only then did Legolas allow his concern for his father come to the fore. Turning swiftly, his eyes sought Thranduil.

“Ada?”

Thranduil glanced briefly in his son’s direction. His attention was focused on staunching the flow of blood from Elrond’s arm. The dark haired Imladris lord grimaced slightly, but made no sound of protest. His eyes met Thranduil’s for a moment and the king of Mirkwood shook his head, a slight grin forming on his lips.

“And you were saying that I do not know how to duck sharp objects. Elrond, mellon-nin, you no longer have room to talk. No, stay still. The bleeding has not stopped yet.” He glanced up again at his son, “I am unharmed, ion-nin, and Elrond’s wound is not serious. Go find the one who did this.”

“He is correct, my wound is not serious. Go.” Elrond seconded Thranduil’s words.

At their assurances, Legolas and Haldir took off down the stairs at a full run. Estel lingered only long enough to grasp his foster father’s uninjured arm briefly before following them. At the foot of the stairs, Estel spied his brothers. Shouting a brief synopsis of what had transpired to them, he sped out the gate after the two wood elves.

Elladan and Elrohir took the steps three at a time up to the top. Upon their arrival, Thranduil moved aside and allowed them to take over care of their father. He moved to the wall, catching sight of Haldir and Legolas as they entered the tree line.

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Legolas moved swiftly and silently through the dense undergrowth, his eyes scanning each leaf and twig for any sign of the assassin’s passing. Haldir was two paces behind him, his attention on the bushes around them. By unspoken agreement, Legolas had taken up the task of tracking the assassin while Haldir kept watch for an ambush. Estel caught up to them a moment later and took position to Haldir’s left, also watching for ambush.

Legolas stopped suddenly, his hand lightly brushing the leaf litter on the ground. He lifted red-stained fingers to show his companions. Using hand gestures, he indicated that the trail led to the south. Haldir and Estel both nodded their understanding and Legolas began to pick his way along the blood trail left by the wounded archer.

Legolas continued following the blood trail left by the assassin, the small part of his mind not focused on his task marveling that the wounded one had managed to get so far so quickly. Had the blood not smelled human, he would have thought the attacker to be elven, as unlikely as that might have been, from the remarkable amount of stamina he was displaying.

Soon, his ears picked up the quiet sounds of the attacker’s flight. He glanced at Haldir, who nodded to indicate that he also had heard. Turning to Estel, Legolas used a series of hand signals to communicate the location of their quarry and what he needed Estel to do. Estel indicated his understanding and the three hunters separated, each approaching the wounded assassin from a different direction.

Estel moved in on the wounded one from the right, making as much noise as possible and driving him toward Haldir. Legolas waited in the branches above the spot where Haldir was to confront the assassin, arrow notched and ready. He was mildly surprised that the assassin made almost no noise. Had he and Haldir not been elves, they likely would have heard nothing. Estel was far louder in the undergrowth, even though he was farther away.

The assassin came into view then, and Legolas studied him, arrow trained on him all the while. He was tall for a human, and dark, but not so dark that he appeared to be of Easterling origin. He carried the standard weapons of a traveler, sword, bow and arrows, and a couple of knives. Nothing about him stood out in any way, but that was to be expected of one whose trade was killing for pay.

Haldir let the assassin get to the midpoint between himself, Legolas, and Estel before stepping from cover, arrow notched, and confronting him.

“Halt or you will be dead where you stand!” Haldir smirked a bit at the look of shock on the assassin’s face. “Remove your weapons and place them on the ground.” The assassin hesitated a moment and Haldir drew his bow string back a bit. The dark man’s gaze darted to the side, and Estel stepped from cover, sword in hand.

“A lone elf and a whelp not yet old enough to shave? I think the tales I have heard of your folk were great exaggerations.” The assassin sneered, making no move to comply with Haldir’s orders. Legolas dropped from his perch to land lightly on the ground, arrow ready and bow drawn before the assassin even fully realized that he was there.

“Drop your weapons, or you will see how true the tales are.” Legolas’ demeanor bore no resemblance to his usual cheeriness. At the moment, he looked as fell and dangerous as Mirkwood elves were rumored to be. The assassin’s bravado disappeared completely and his weapons hit the ground with startling speed. Estel darted in and gathered them up, moving quickly so as not to become a bargaining tool for the stranger. The assassin never moved and never took his eyes from Legolas.

Only a faint rustling of the undergrowth announced the arrival of Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, and a few of the Lorien warriors. They soon had the assassin trussed up except for his feet and were escorting him back to the keep. Glorfindel had made a point to search him thoroughly and had found several more weapons, as well as a hidden cache of a deadly poison, no doubt designed as a last resort in the event of his capture. The assassin had deflated visibly when it was found.

The twins said little, shooting the same dark looks that they normally reserved for orcs at the stranger frequently. Glorfindel and Haldir maintained the poise of seasoned warriors, little of what may have been going through their minds evident on their faces. Estel, once he had spoken to the twins, dropped easily into his usual state when out tracking with his foster brothers and Legolas.

The prince, however, still wore the fierceness he had displayed when confronting the assassin like a cloak. His bow was in one hand, still strung and ready, and he clasped an arrow in the other. He spoke little as they crossed the distance back to the Keep, his expression darkening when he heard Haldir tell Glorfindel that the man’s accent suggested that he hailed from Gondor.

Upon entering the Keep, they were met by Lord Feren and his guard, as well as Thranduil and Elrond. Thranduil, as was his wont, spoke first.

“So this is the would be assassin.” He looked the man over, deliberately disdainful. “I would say that either the one who hired you overestimated your skills greatly, or failed to properly instruct you about your target. That is somewhat beside the point now, however. You have quite a bit to answer for, assassin. It would make your existence much more pleasant if you cooperate and answer the questions asked of you.” The gaze that could reduce a seasoned warrior to the level of an elfling was trained in full measure on the dark man. The man’s attempt to hold onto what was left of his composure failed, and he trembled visibly.

“Elves do not torture their captives,” the dark one stated, more hopeful than certain. Thranduil smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

“No, you are correct, we do not. You are not our captive.” With that, Thranduil stepped aside, inclining his head to Lord Feren. Feren eyed the man, disgust plain on his features. The assassin’s trembling increased.

“Take him to the lower levels. I will be along shortly.” Feren gestured dismissively to Narilt who moved forward with two of his guardsmen. The assassin made no outcry as he was led to the lower levels of the Keep. No one spoke until he had disappeared from view. Feren turned to Thranduil, admiration plain on his face, “King Thranduil, that was brilliantly done. I have no doubt that you have saved my men and myself the unpleasant task of ‘persuading’ him to speak. From the look of him, he will begin spouting information as soon as I step into the room.”

“One would hope, at least. The tactic works with errant warriors, as well.” Thranduil cocked an eyebrow at his son. Legolas, who was at last beginning to relax a bit, merely returned the gesture in a perfect imitation of his sire. Thranduil chuckled and grasped his shoulder briefly before walking back inside the Keep.

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It was after the evening meal that Feren asked Elrond, Thranduil, and their sons, as well as Haldir and Glorfindel to join him in his study. As soon as everyone was seated and supplied with wine, Feren began his tale.

“Well, he said that he was hired in Minas Tirith and told to meet a contact in Dunharrow. No one he spoke to was more than a hireling, but he said that there was someone watching him while he spoke to his contact. The watcher was tall, and he caught a glimpse of something white or silver. He was then sent to Esgaroth, where he met with yet another contact and was given his final instructions. He skirted around Mirkwood, it seems he was unwilling to risk running afoul of any of your folk, King Thranduil, and then headed here. He was told that you would pass this way, but how his employer knew to find you here I do not know, nor does he. He was told to kill you, but promised a bonus to kill Prince Legolas as well. That is all he said that he knows.” Feren settled back, frowning into his wine goblet.

“That tells us little; save that my enemy had some way of knowing where I was headed and very likely used the orcs to make certain I stayed here.” He smiled briefly at Feren. “It does seem that whoever he is, he underestimated you, Lord Feren.”

“He likely did not know where I hail from. Ever would I assist you where I could. What truly troubles me is that he is in league with that flying nightmare that attacked you.” Feren’s frown had deepened and was echoed on the faces of his companions.

“Aye, the Ulaire. I do not like where my thoughts are heading on that matter,” Elrond steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. Thranduil nodded his agreement.

“No that is indeed not a pleasant train of thought. We must all be especially watchful now, in all our lands. If the worst is coming, we must be prepared.” Thranduil fell silent for a moment, and then regarded Haldir. “You will bear word of this back to your lord and lady, of course. Lorien is the closest of all our realms to any potential threat. I think we should increase our communications, as well.” Haldir merely nodded respectfully. “Elrond, I think we should proceed to Imladris as soon as possible. I would not endanger Lord Feren’s people unnecessarily.”

“I would agree. The valley will also provide cover when you begin your journey home. Enemies will not be able to follow you in, and thus will loose your trail. I can be ready to leave on the morrow. Sooner is better than later, I believe.” Elrond met Thranduil’s gaze steadily. The king of Mirkwood nodded.

“Yes, sooner is better for all involved. We will leave in the morning, as openly as possible. I want no watchers to have any doubt that we are no longer here.” Feren cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him.

“I thank you for your concern for the people of this Keep. That will make things even more dangerous for you.” Feren looked at each of them in turn. “Whatever assistance I can render is yours.”

“We will be traveling in daylight and will reach the valley by nightfall, so we need not be overly concerned with orcs. All of us will leave together, there is safety in numbers. The only worry I have is for assassins. I would doubt that the one in the cell below was the only one hired.” Elrond rose and straightened his robes. “I would have a word with Weder and Letha before we depart. Lord Feren, Thranduil, Haldir, I bid you a good evening.”

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It was much later that night when Thranduil and Legolas retired to the room they had been quartered in. As soon as the door shut behind them, Thranduil caught his son’s arm.

“Legolas, I did not have a chance earlier to tell you how proud I am of you. You have borne a great deal these last couple of weeks and you have done so in a manner that elves many centuries your senior would not have been able to match. The small matter of mischief making with Elrond‘s sons aside.” He gave Legolas a wry grin and pulled him into a brief embrace before holding him out at arms’ length. “Your Naneth would be so very proud of you.” Legolas gripped his father’s arms in return.

“Thank you, Ada,” he said softly, and touched his forehead to Thranduil’s. “I would have preferred that the cost was not so high, to us or to Mirkwood. I fear that we have dark times ahead.” Thranduil sighed.

“I share that fear, ion-nin, but whatever comes we will face it.” Father and son regarded each other solemnly for a moment, and then embraced once more before readying themselves for what rest they might find that night.

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Morning found the courtyard of the Keep full of elves, humans, and horses. After an elaborate breakfast, the people of the Keep were bidding farewell to their guests. Lord Feren, his son Daeren by his side, made a very public speech to his guests. Elrond and Thranduil replied in kind.

Lilia scurried through the crowd, past humans and elves and under horses’ bellies, searching for Legolas. She had escaped from her sister’s custody while Zania was preoccupied flirting with a young guardsman. She was frantic to find Legolas before he left and let out a sob of relief when she finally caught sight of the elf. Racing across the distance between them, she launched herself at him, striking him in the midsection. He caught her by reflex alone and swung her up into his arms.

“Tithen gwath, I wondered if I would see you before I left. I shall miss you, little one.” He touched his forehead to hers. Lilia started to sniffle and buried her face in his neck.

“I do not want you to leave,” she cried, her voice muffled by the collar of his tunic. He rubbed her back, a sad smile gracing his face as he met the eyes of Lilia’s father, who had spotted his errant offspring moving through the crowd.

“I know that, Lilia, but I must leave whether or not either of us wishes it. I will miss you as much as you will miss me. If you like, I will come back and visit you as soon as I can. Would you like that?” She nodded without raising her head. He smiled again. “Then we are agreed. I will come back and visit. Now, can you dry your eyes and give me a smile to remember until I see you again?” She nodded again and raised up to look him in the face. He brushed the tears from her face gently and she gave him a wobbly smile. He kissed her forehead and hugged her before handing her to her waiting father.

The mixed group of elves from Lorien, Imladris, and Mirkwood began to ride out of the keep. Legolas turned to wave one last time to Lilia, who waved frantically back at him. Lilia and her father stood and watched until the last rider was out of sight.

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The trip to Imladris had indeed broken the trail and there was no further trouble. The Festival went without a hitch and Legolas and Thranduil returned home safely. Legolas kept his word to Lilia, returning many times over the years to visit her, even after her marriage at the age of fifteen to Daeren, son of Feren.

Attacks on Mirkwood increased over the years. Lorien and Imladris were not subjected to open attacks, but orcs and unsavory humans drew closer and closer to their borders. It became increasingly perilous to travel between the realms and they resorted to using message birds for almost all dispatches. Few besides Legolas dared travel over the Misty Mountains. Despite the tireless efforts of Elladan and Elrohir, orcs had made the passes perilous to all travelers.

Despite their continued investigations, Thranduil and Elrond had no success in discovering the identity of Thranduil’s unknown enemy until the War of the Ring.

To Be Continued in the Epilogue…………..

A/N: All right, who can guess the identity of the enemy? Now you know I had to do just one more cliffie, didn’t you? I’m interested to see who guesses correctly.