Chapter 4:  To test an elf's character, give him power

"Tilion had traversed the skies seven times, I remember, when Arien first rode through the heavens. It was a most marvelous sight," Helindilme said. As she spoke, she ceased, for a moment, plucking winter bloom seeds from the bushes in the public garden--a task she shared with Lindomiel, Arthiel, Maidhien, Nestoreth and Legolas, while also sharing the stories she had promised Legolas. Her hand swept slowly above her head and she followed it with her eyes as if seeing again the first rising of the sun.

Mesmerized by her tale, Legolas plucked leaves from the twigs his mother and Arthiel had trimmed, but his gaze tracked the healer's long, nimble fingers while he imagined what it must have been like to see the skies afire after previously knowing only the silver flickering of the stars.

"With Laurelin's warmth and brilliance," Helindilme continued, "Clouds roiled in the heavens, rains fell and all good creatures stirred while the wicked hid from the burning light. In my mind, as one who loves studying herbs, perhaps the most glorious sight of all was that so many of the plants in Middle Earth, which had been lying under the Sleep of Yavanna, finally sprung forth and blossomed." Her fingers now spread wide, like the petals of a flower. "From tiny mosses to great blooms on trees. Some I recognized as ones we also had in Aman, but so many more were new and wholly unknown. It was utterly fascinating." She paused and fingered the delicate yellow flowers on the bush under her hand. "Like this winter bloom is to me," she added, absently, studying it a moment. Then she shook her head and turned her attention back to her audience. "Witnessing that quickening of the land in Middle Earth was the greatest moment of hope I had ever experienced. Perhaps the greatest I have since experienced. It was also the moment I knew I had made the correct choice to come to across the sea."

"I have always wondered," Lindomiel said softly, "what seeing Anar and Isil was like for one who had seen the full beauty of the Trees. Whether they were a comfort or...not."

Helindime frowned slightly. "Anar and Isil--only one fruit and one flower--were, at once, a bitter and a sweet sight. Most of the elves I knew were relieved that the Valar had preserved at least that remnant of Yavanna's greatest deed and, at the same time, many were...terribly dismayed. They cast such a pale light, comparatively, and they are a constant reminder of the damage Morgoth wrought on the theretofore unspoiled peace and beauty of Aman. One of the reasons I chose not to return with my Atar is that I did not believe, after all the changes in Aman and to myself due to my time in Beleriand, that Aman would feel as much like home as Middle Earth had come to feel. And I was not yet weary of exploring Middle Earth's secrets. I still am not."

Legolas found himself unable to fathom choosing to be separated from his family, especially his mother or father, no matter how he or they or their home changed. He also could not imagine the full light of the Two Trees if Anar seemed pale in Helindilme's eyes.

She smiled at him when she caught him staring as he contemplated her words and he looked away swiftly, embarrassed.

"There is, perhaps, another reason why Middle Earth is easier for me than it was for some of the other Noldor who were so anxious to return to Aman. In Aman, I loved most the softer light, at the Mingling, and I cannot imagine Aman without that light," she said, as if she could see Legolas's thoughts. From the corner of his eye, he saw her frown again. "Do you know what the Mingling was?"

All the Sindar nodded, including Colloth, who was guarding them in the trees of the garden. It amused Legolas somewhat that even his guard was distracted by Helindilme's stories.

"The King has a painting in his private office," Lindomiel said. "It is one he made himself. It depicts the first sight he had of this forest, when he crested the mountains from the west. It was dawn, after a rain, he told me, and the forest was covered in mist and dew. Anar lit the mist and dew to glow golden and sparkle silver. He says he imagines the Mingling was something similar."

"It sounds very much like it," Helindilme replied. "I should greatly like to see that painting, if he would allow it." Her voice sounded a little wistful to Legolas's ears.

"If you are very lucky, you might see the sight itself as you travel back to Imladris," he suggested. "Or even while you are still in the forest. I have seen it with Adar, from the heights of one of our hunting trees, after a rain. We look for it whenever we hunt together and are always delighted to see it."

Lindomiel nodded. "I have also seen it with him. We watch the sunrise every morning and sometimes are so fortunate as to see the light glowing in the forest mists. It appears...almost sacred, like looking at Gil-estel."

"Agreed," Legolas said. "Truly, it is a wondrous sight."

Helindilme said nothing, though she seemed to want to. She studied both Legolas and Lindomiel so intensely that Legolas blushed under her gaze. He was relieved when a figure walking across the Green caught everyone's eye.

"There is the courier," Lindomiel said.

"Which means it is time for me to join Hallion in the Hall," Legolas added. He scooped up the winter bloom twigs he had been stripping and dumped the unfinished ones into Maidhien's lap, earning himself a scowl. Laughing, he winked at her. "I would not want you to miss Galithil too much while he is away, so I feel compelled to behave like him," he whispered into her ear as he stood, brushing little pieces of dried vegetation from his tunic and leggings.

"You could stay with us, Legolas," Lindomiel interrupted him. "Help us finish harvesting the winter bloom and enjoy the last of the beautiful weather before winter sets in."

Legolas glanced sidelong at his mother and tried not to look completely disapproving. The amused smile on her face told him he had failed. "No one is helping Hallion, nana. No one. Golwon is down river, dealing with that water rights issue, Dolgailon and Galithil are in their village, Berior is in training, Engwe and the King are otherwise occupied." It was not allowed to speak of the King's travels publicly. "If I do not appear in the Hall, Hallion will not be able to appear at lunch, dinner or possibly even breakfast tomorrow."

Lindomiel laughed.

Legolas knew she would say nothing more. He was right, even if he did not like it any better than she. The fact was, he would have much preferred to remain in Aran's warm glow while hearing Helindilme's stories, but duty called him elsewhere. "I trust you ladies will remain and enjoy yourselves," he said, bowing to his mother and then to Arthiel. That gesture, a courtesy he had always offered his older, female cousin, seemed to make her uncomfortable of late. He had no idea why. He reached to tug on Maidhien's hair ribbon--his customary goodbye to his soon-to-be younger female cousin. That earned him a swat and a dismissive wave good-bye. Finally, he nodded to Nestoreth and Helindilme. "I thoroughly enjoyed hearing your stories, mistress," he said, facing the Noldorin healer. "Thank you so much for sharing them."

"You were a lovely audience," she said.

Legolas smiled and looked into the trees for Colloth. "Are you with me or are you staying in the garden with the Queen?" he asked. His intention was to imply Colloth should stay outside with his mother, since he would be tucked safely away in the Hall and the Guard was stretched so thin that there was no one else to watch over her. Because the King himself had assigned Colloth to guard Legolas, that would be a difficult argument to win, though still one worth trying.

As Colloth hesitated over his response, Nestoreth hastily began fastening the lids onto two of the baskets full of winter bloom leaves and twigs. "If you are both going, would you and Colloth mind taking these into the stronghold on your way to the Hall?" Nestoreth asked. "If you sit them any where in the antechamber, I will store them properly later with the rest of the medicinal supplies."

"Of course," Legolas readily agreed. Then he could argue with Colloth in the privacy of the antechamber. He stepped closer to reach for his basket.

Before he lifted it, Helindilme hopped off the garden wall where she had been sitting and picked it up herself.

Colloth dropped from his tree, picked up the other and started off towards the Gates.

Intending to follow him, Legolas reached for the basket Helindilme picked up for him. Instead of giving it to him, she marched after Colloth herself. Lindomiel laughed quietly in response to that. Completely confused, Legolas suppressed a sigh, bowed once again to his mother and jogged to catch up with Colloth and Helindilme. When he did, he walked along side her and reached again for the basket balanced on her hip. "Please allow me to take that, mistress," he said.

Instead of releasing the basket, she held on to it, turning it slightly away from him. "In Imladris, we do not ask Master Elrond, his sons or daughter to fetch baskets back and forth, my lord Prince," she said. "And besides, if I carry it, I will have the opportunity to speak to you a moment longer."

Caught off-guard by her first claim and the very formal titled she had applied to him, Legolas stared at her without immediately responding.

In front of them, Colloth almost succeeded in suppressing a snort. "Ah, privilege," he said airily, glancing back at Legolas with bright eyes.

Legolas's mouth quirked downward and he gave him a shove.

"And look--abuse of power," Colloth added, now openly laughing and dodging to the side to avoid another shove.

Legolas lunged after him and loosed a dramatically offended puff of air. "I will show you abuse if you continue baiting me," he retorted in a playful voice. Then he turned back to Helindilme and tried to speak seriously. "You do not need an excuse to speak to me if you wish to and I am perfectly happy to be of any service to this realm that I might, including fetching baskets or anything else that ensures we have enough medicines and foods stored for the winter." He reached a third time for the basket and frowned, this time in earnest, when she still did not surrender it. "Please allow me to carry the basket, mistress. Anyone seeing this will think me most unchivalrous."

When she still looked at him doubtfully, Colloth stopped, nearly causing both Legolas and Helindilme to run into him. Once they stumbled to a halt, he pulled the basket from her and thrust it against Legolas's chest. With a satisfied smirk, he turned and continued on towards the bridge.

This time, Legolas did laugh out loud at Helindilme's utterly scandalized expression. "Thank you, Colloth," was all he said before following him.

Helindilme shook her head, but she did smile. And she continued to keep pace with them, rather than returning to the garden. "I am relieved to see you laugh so easily," she said when they were almost to the bridge. "And so whole-heartedly."

Legolas made an effort not to allow his smile to fade. He suddenly found himself wondering precisely what tales this healer, Nestoreth and his mother had been telling amongst themselves. From her scrutiny, he suspected he knew. He said nothing. This was a conversation he avoided with anyone he could. He did not care to have it with this elleth, who he barely knew, no matter how enjoyable he found her company until now.

"I do not need to be told what you have seen," she continued when he remained silent. She prevented his escape over the bridge with a light hand on his arm. "Or possibly even done. I can see the shadow of it in your eyes. Will you tell me which it is--seen or done?"

Legolas could not help it. He frowned. "Done," he confessed without intending to.

Her hand on his arm tightened. "I feared that to be the case. I am not a stranger to that grief."

Legolas's eyes widened.

"I have never taken any life, not even a rabbit's, myself," she hastily clarified. "But I served..."

Legolas tensed as Helindilme hesitated over her choice of words. If she spoke of him and Feanor in the same breath...

"...in an Age when many suffered thusly," she concluded. "Because of that, I am quite knowledgeable of how to heal such griefs, if you would only allow it."

Despite his fervent wish to avoid this conversation, Legolas could not bring himself to be annoyed with her in the face of her genuine desire to help. "I appreciate your concern, mistress," he said gently. "But you need not worry over me. I do grieve what I did. How could I not? But I am surrounded by many people, family and dear friends, who are determined to help me drive away the shadow I face. And I have duties with which to distract myself," he concluded, taking a step away from her and towards the bridge. "Duties that I draw strength from for the good that I can see they do."

"I have heard many rulers make that claim," she replied. "And I see you are no more willing to discuss this with me than you are with Nestoreth, which is not terribly surprising. You know me not at at. But speaking of it with someone, when you are finally comfortable doing so, will help. In the meantime, I will leave you in peace if you will permit me to offer one piece of advice."

He nodded, politely indulgent and little more, but she did not wait for his agreement, so his lack of sincerity hardly mattered.

"Your lady mother is correct to encourage you to spend time amongst the trees. The quiet peace and beauty of nature truly serves to turn the mind from suffering. If gathering medicines or foods is necessary for you to justify in your mind the time you spend in the forest, so be it, but sometimes it is best to do nothing more than listen to the trees sing while gazing at Gil-estel." She stopped and smiled. "That is what I always told the Sindar in Beleriand that so loved the stars and missed Neldoreth and Region and Nivrim. You, I doubt need reminded to listen to the trees, given how they sing for you, but I think I will advise to seek the sun in one of your hunting trees, rather than Gil-estel." Her hand dropped away from its grasp on his arm, whispering down the length of his hair where it fell across his shoulder. "Anar's golden rays seem to suit your family much better, particularly after the tales you and your lady mother told of the mingling of the lights over this forest."

"I will remember that advice, mistress," Legolas replied, feeling oddly breathless as she withdrew her hand. "It is wise, I am sure. Though I confess hearing you speak of the trees as you did surprises me. I did not know the Noldor were particularly sensitive to the song of any forest. Much less would I expect an elleth from Imladris to have any affinity for the Greenwood," he said. His amused smile returned.

Hers did as well. "I have studied herbs for longer than the sun and moon have traversed Arda, both in Middle Earth and in the Valar's own gardens in Aman. All Yavanna's creations speak to me to some degree." With that, she bobbed a polite curtsy. "By your leave," she said, and when Legolas nodded automatically, she turned to rejoin the other ladies and finish harvesting winter bloom seeds, leaves and twigs.

Legolas stepped resolutely onto the bridge, hugging the basket to him. He understood, to some degree, his father's discomfort around the Noldor. That one, at least, certainly made him feel most off-balance.

Colloth stood to one side to allow him to pass. His expression betrayed he was preparing some smart comment. Legolas hurried by, ignoring him and the chortling that followed him.

They crossed the bridge and placed their baskets against a wall in the antechamber. Then Colloth then turned a stern glare on him. "If you leave the Hall before I join you there, you will come find me?" he asked.

"I will," he replied.

The guard nodded to him and went back out through the Gates. That decision was a relief. Legolas would feel much better with Colloth in the garden with his mother. He strode happily into the Hall just as the courier was leaving it. It was Padanil. He had carried messages from the far reaches of the realm for as long as Legolas could remember. He bowed to Legolas as they crossed paths and Legolas smiled at him. Hopefully there would be some news from Dolgailon and Galithil. And Tulus. His next message was due today, but it came by owl. With luck, Hallion already had it.

Legolas hurried down the length of the Hall and joined Hallion at the work table at the foot of the dais. "Fair morning," he said softly, seating himself next to his father's steward.

"My lord," Hallion mumbled without looking up. He was surrounded by stacks of papers: general correspondence, petitions, Golwon's lists of village requests for winter stores, the inventory sheets Berior had finished the night before containing records of supplies, finalized catalogues of the trade goods Lindomiel had received and sent to Dale and Esgaroth, lists of provisions the stronghold needed to lay in to prepare for winter (Legolas was surprised to see those appeared to be in Maidhien's hand) and finally reports and requests from the patrols.

"You should have called for me sooner," Legolas said, shaking his head at the amount of work laid out on the table. "Would you like me to sort through the courier's delivery?"

"We have more than enough work already," Hallion replied, pushing the patrol reports in Legolas's direction. "Summarize these for me, if you please?" he asked, still focused on his own reading--a letter that bore the seal of Dale but Forwed's, not Fengel's, handwriting. Legolas pitied Hallion managing whatever Forwed wanted now!

With no desire to make that situation worse, Legolas silently took the papers Hallion passed him in one hand and pulled a blotter with its accompanying ink and quill closer with the other. Galithil normally summarized patrol reports and Engwe had always managed distribution of supplies to the warriors. With them both absent, Legolas was introduced to these duties only three days before. He turned his full attention to them. The first report was from the Southern Patrol and warned of a large grouping of orcs on the eastern edge of their territory. That news could be worse, Legolas thought as he dipped his pen into the ink. If there had to be large groups of orcs anywhere, the farther they were from Galithil and Thranduil in the west the better.

*~*~*

Galithil placed the letter he had just finished copying--one to Leithor, the leader of the village just to their east, a request to share the berry harvest--on the stack of completed correspondence and picked up another to copy. Uncle Thranduil was correct. Manadhien was not interested in giving him any real responsibility in the village. He was doing the sort of work he had done for the king when he was a dozen years younger. He did not mind, he told himself. Seeing the issues that arose in the village was enough. He had enough experience from serving the king and troop commander that none of the issues he encountered over the last week in the village seemed difficult to resolve. Besides, he was not really here to learn how to govern villages.

He glanced at Manadhien, sitting to his left at the head of the table.

She had seemed much more quiet the last several days. Much colder. Not that she had been talkative at any point during their stay. And that disappointed him. And challenged him. And it was foolish to challenge him, Legolas always said. Of course Galithil realized it was he Legolas was calling a fool when he said such things. He smiled at the thought of his cousin. Legolas would have a fit if he knew what Galithil planned on asking Manadhien this morning.

"I was wondering, my lady," Galithil said, without looking up from his writing, "if you were born in Middle Earth or if you are one of the Returned Elves."

Manadhien let her quill flutter down, placed her hands flat on the table surface and slowly turned to study Galithil with narrowed eyes.

Her reaction was not completely unexpected. He knew this was a dangerous topic, but he was determined to use every opportunity to get her talking about herself, to learn anything he could about what she was doing and why. As long as he neither did nor said anything to let on what he knew about her, it was not so foolish an idea as Legolas would claim.

When she said nothing, he faced her with a carefully innocent look that only served to make her scowl deeper. "You told me before," he pressed, "when I last visited this village, that you are not Silvan. Or Sindarin. That only leaves Noldorin." He smiled. "You certainly are not Vanyarin, even if any of the Vanyar still resided in Middle Earth. Your hair is most certainly not golden. Quite the opposite. It is the richest black I have ever seen."

Her expression did not change, though it might have grown a bit distant and, in that, Galithil concluded she was searching her memory for the exact details of that conversation. Finally she focused fully on him again. "I said I was not Silvan. I said nothing of not being Sindarin. I only said that I knew Oropher, even if he did not know me, and I did not follow him all the way to this forest. You concluded that I was from Lothlorien, at that point in the conversation."

Galithil shrugged with apparent unconcern and affected confusion. "So you are not Noldorin? I thought it likely that you are, since Aunt Lindomiel said she did not remember you from Lothlorien. Or at least not your name. And since you said you were more interested in gem work. Not many Sindar have any skill in that art. It is something the Noldor loved. At any rate, we never finished that part of the conversation, so I thought maybe Legolas and I had drawn the wrong conclusion about Lothlorien and instead you were one of the Noldor from Ost-in-Edhil." There he stopped, to give her a chance to lie or tell the truth as she would.

She glared at him for a long moment. "Very well," she muttered, "This is near enough concluded that it hardly matters."

Galithil frowned, not understanding that comment until she picked up her quill, wiped its tip on the blotter, and capped her ink bottle. She must have meant her correspondence.

Finally, she faced him fully, folding her arms in front of her. "It is not wise," she said, "to confess to being Noldorin in this realm. Much less when speaking to a member of the House of Oropher."

Galithil's eyebrows rose.

"It is well known that Oropher blamed all the Noldor for the kinslayings and would not suffer their presence."

He had hoped to draw her into a conversation about her past acquaintances, to use them to guess at her potential current allies, since there was still one spy to identify. Kinslaying would certainly be another interesting topic as well--how she justified killing elves. Interesting if he was very careful.

"From what I have heard of daeradar, I can believe that claim," Galithil responded quietly. "But my uncle does not blame all the Noldor. He places blame only on those that earned it." He could not resist that barb.

Her brow furrowed severely. "Those who earned it," she repeated, her words clipped. "All those who earned it? Including the Sindar who killed elves? Himself amongst them?" She shook her head. "I do not believe for a moment he recognizes the evil he did."

Galithil drew a long breath to hide his tension. She blamed the Sindar for defending themselves? Absurd! "The Sindar, including my uncle and daeradar, did kill other elves in Menegroth and Sirion," Galithil replied, keeping his voice very quiet and even. "Uncle Thranduil acknowledges that and still grieves it."

Manadhien's jaw clenched.

"But they killed those elves in self defense," he continued. "The Noldor attacked them in those cities..."

"Because their king refused to return what he had stolen," Manadhien snapped.

"Morgoth stole the Silmaril. Beren and Luthien took it away from him..."

"And they should have returned it to its rightful owner. Neither they nor Thingol nor Dior nor Elwing had any true claim on it," Manadhien interrupted again, her hand in a fist pounding on the table to punctuate her words. "Thingol, Dior and Elwing apparently believed that keeping the Silmaril was worth killing elves. They allowed their people to die so they could keep the jewel they stole."

"Feanor and his sons likewise allowed their people to die. They commanded them to die, so they could possess a jewel." He paused and feigned confusion. "Dolgailon told me that your adar was killed in Sirion."

Her gazed fixed on him and shock flashed in her eyes. Her expression seemed to ask how he dared bring up that topic. She quickly smothered it.

"He said you were deeply offended by kinslaying," Galithil pressed. "So I do not understand how you can be a victim of kinslaying, yet defend the sons of Feanor."

"From my point of view, your warriors were the kinslayers, defending a thief that stole my king's property. If Thingol or Elwing had simply given us the jewel, we would have left in peace without harming a single person. We came to Middle Earth to fight Morgoth, not elves."

Galithil frowned. Some Noldor, her father and brother included, killed not just those that kept the Silmaril, but also innocents. Still, he could not deny that he agreed Thingol and Elwing could have prevented many deaths if they had yielded their pride and that cursed jewel.

Manadhien was scowling at him, awaiting an answer.

"I do agree Thingol should never have kept the Silmaril," he said softly. "And I think we both agree that the loss of all the elves--my kin and yours--that died for it was a terrible tragedy that caused great suffering on all sides. I truly sympathize with you. I see the loss of your adar is still very painful for you, even now. I have some understanding of the pain of losing a parent. Have you ever thought of sailing? To address your grief by reuniting with your adar? And your naneth? Did she stay in Aman?"

Manadhien laughed bitterly. "I would not dream of returning to my adar's presence without first achieving what he hoped for us to achieve in Middle Earth. I would not disappoint his expectations." She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Would you sail now? Would you care to face your adar again having done less than everything he expected you to do for this realm?"

"I would not," he conceded, remembering how his father's death had left him determined to be the elf his father would have wanted him to be. How could he and Manadhien have so much and so little in common? What, precisely, did she think to achieve in her father's name through her current actions. He dared not ask. It might be anything, given both her father's past and her own.

"And no, Emme did not remain in Aman. She came with us. Across the Ice..."

"You crossed the Helcaraxe?" Galithil could not stop himself from exclaiming. He assumed she came with Feanor, since her father served his House. "That was an impressive feat," he said. Despite the evils that surrounded those times, impressive was how he had been taught to view the Crossing of the Helcaraxe. Impressive, not heroic.

"It was nightmarish," she said.

"How long did it take you? What could you have possibly found to eat, or even drink, on such a journey? It is not safe to eat snow in such cold, unless you can melt it and you could not have possibly done that. Where would you get wood to make a fire?" The questions rushed from him. He could not help it. In the back of his mind, he wished Legolas were here. His cousin loved stories. To speak to someone that had seen the Crossing of the Ice! Even if that person was Manadhien! It was amazing.

"I do not know how long it took. There was no sun. The moon had only just risen when we began the crossing and it did not yet run in the same course we know today." She looked at him and her expression was as cold as the Helcaraxe. "There was no food, save that which we carried and it did not last. There was no water, save ice. And there was no fire. Cold and hunger is why so many died. That and the shifting of the ice, which swallowed all but the most observant and agile. My mother died that way. Crushed by the ice. She slipped into a crevasse. When she fell, I reached for her and caught only the neckline of her dress. It tore...." she drifted to silence.

Galithil gasped involuntarily and a pitying expression claimed his face. He fought to suppress it, knowing she would scorn his pity. "I cannot imagine. I am sorry," he stammered. "And sorry to have turned your thoughts to such terrible memories."

"Memories of my mother are not terrible," Manadhien replied, her voice softer than Galithil had ever heard it. She reached into her pocket and withdrew something from it. Something small. Her hand hid it until she chose to show it to him. She did so with obvious reluctance, clearly already regretting her actions, but unwilling to turn from them just the same. "Atar gave me this, when we left Aman," she said, turning a blue gem so that it caught the light. It was marred. Cracked. It did not sparkle as it should. "It was once set in a necklace that my mother made at Atar's request. She cut the gem too, but it has since been damaged and the necklace lost. She chose blue to represent the sea Atar was so determined to cross. Atar gave one to my brother and sister too, but theirs were lost with them. This jewel is the only thing I have left of my parents." She carefully tucked the stone back into her pocket. "Emme never wanted to leave Valinor. She was happy there, making jewelry for the lords and their ladies in the court. She only came for Atar's sake. Because he wanted a greater life." She stopped herself and frowned at Galithil, as if only just remembering he was there. "I beg your pardon, my lord," she said, her voice tinged with mockery. "Of course, you do not care to hear that language. Nana and Adar, I should have said."

Galithil shook his head. "Of course you called them Atar and...what was the word? I do not know Quenya. Emme? You should refer to her as you remember her. I am certain it is very difficult to be separated from her. I sincerely hope that one day you will feel you have fulfilled your adar's expectations, whatever they may be, so you can be reunited with your family."

Manadhien leveled a cold, almost openly threatening glare on him. "Like many of the Noldor, my Atar came to Middle Earth seeking a realm to rule," she declared.

The breath caught in Galithil's throat. "And you are governing the largest village in the southern forest," he whispered. "The second largest village in the forest, after the capital. You are doing precisely what your adar hoped to do."

"Not precisely," she replied.

Galithil stared at her. That was a threat and there was no mistaking it. She intended it as one. But why would she? She could not think he would understand it.

Before he could reply, the doors of the Hall swung open and Gwathron and Mornil swept through them.

"Leave," Mornil barked, speaking to Galithil. He emphasized that command with a wave of his hand that left his fingers pointing in the general direction of the doors.  

Accustomed to such commands from the king's court--though not ones delivered as if they had been spoken to an ill-trained dog or horse--Galithil gathered himself to stand. Even as he was doing so, his back went rigid. The king could certainly order him thusly. So might Dolgailon, as an officer and leader of this village. Mornil, on the other hand, had absolutely no right to speak to him in such a manner. Galithil barely stopped himself from glaring at Mornil. It might be better to simply leave. To not be any more provocative than he had already been.

Mornil was already drawing a breath to repeat his order.

No, Galithil thought. I am not having it. He remained seated, turned towards Mornil and Gwathron as they dropped into the chairs across from him at the table and drew himself up in his best impression of Uncle Thranduil. "I am Oropher's grandson and the king's nephew. I am a prince of this realm," he said in a perfectly even voice. "If you expect me to respond, I suggest you address me appropriately."

Galithil watched Mornil's face contort in anger. An anger that froze in place and then instantly disappeared when he glanced at Manadhien. Manadhien was looking at Mornil completely expressionlessly. Mornil turned his gaze to has lap, took a deep breath and pressed his lips together. Then he sat still for a long moment. Finally he looked back at Galithil.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," he said softly. "You are correct, of course. May I ask to speak to Lady Moralfien in private for a moment?"

"Certainly," Galithil said, now standing. He spent a moment straightening the papers he had been working on and then he nodded to Manadhien. "I will see you this afternoon, my lady, with the reports from the village guards and patrols."

Manadhien nodded back to him. "I look forward to that."

Galithil left the Hall at a dignified pace. He could almost physically feel Mornil's rage, but neither he nor Gwathron said a word until Galithil's hand reached for the door handle. Even then, he only heard them shifting in their chairs.

Galithil opened the doors, stepped through them and then considered pressing his ear against the crack between them to listen to whatever it was Mornil was so anxious to tell Manadhien in private. He immediately thought better of that. Not only would every elf in the village see him eavesdropping, Mornil might. So instead, he jumped down the steps by twos and dodged around to the side of the Hall, going to stand at its back corner. The windows were open. He should be able to hear whatever they said through them.

The first voice he heard was Gwathron's: "Thranduil obviously knows that we have discovered their plans. Dolgailon likely does too," he said, his voice shaking slightly, possibly with rage or fear. "Do you think they know our plans to..."

Manadhien cut him off with a hiss.

"There is no one here!" Gwathron exclaimed. "Mornil checked the door."

The only response to that was a whisper Galithil could not make out. For safety sake, he ducked further around the back side of the Hall and pressed himself against the wall. As he moved, he covered his mouth with his hand in an effort to stifle the gasp that arose in his throat. Manadhien knew! At least she knew something, if she was speculating about what the King knew about her. 'We have discovered their plans.' Could that mean they knew the true reason he and Dolgailon were in the village? That would explain why she had been so stiff with him the last few days. And why she openly threatened him moments ago. How could she have figured it out? He wracked his memory, trying to think of anyway he might have slipped.

"I will not retreat!" were the next words Galithil could hear. Angry, determined, loud words from Manadhien. "We will attack him here, in this village," she continued, in a much quieter voice. "It is not too late to divert some of them here. Do it. Quickly. We outnumber them. Two fronts will be easier for us to manage than for them and it doubles our chances of ensnaring them all. It ensures we will catch Dolgailon and Galithil, at least. Go."

Without another word, chairs scraped against the wooden floor in the Hall.

Before he could stop himself, Galithil skittered into the forest like a frightened squirrel. He was not a dozen feet past the tree line when a hand fell onto his shoulder. He spun around, drawing his knife as he did. The hand jerked off his shoulder as the person beside him jumped back.

"Did you hear anything interesting?" Galuauth asked. Both his hands, palms forward, were outstretched in front of him. Despite being threatened with a knife, he appeared amused.

Galithil loosed a breath and sank almost to the ground, stopping his descent only by bracing his hands against his knees. He loosed a curse that made the guard's eyebrows shoot up.

"Not terribly prince-like, my lord," he said, still smiling and apparently quite satisfied with himself.

Galithil shook his head. He was so preoccupied with his conversation with Manadhien and then spying on her, he forgot about Galuauth, sitting by the doors of the Hall as Galithil copied. He must have proceeded him out of the Hall after Mornil's terse order to leave and then watched him spy. Galithil sucked down a couple of breaths to steady himself. "I heard Manadhien saying that we have discovered some plan of theirs, though what, I do not know," he answered. "Perhaps something Dolgailon discovered but did not tell me." Then he paused, straightened and looked at Galuauth squarely. The guard was no longer smiling. "She implied they knew our plans. I heard her saying she would attack two fronts--one of them this village--and thereby double her chances of 'ensnaring' us all, especially Dolgailon. And me."

Galuauth's eyes widened.

Without waiting for a response, Galithil strode off to the opposite side of the courtyard. "Time to speak to Dolgailon," he said.

"No doubt," Galuauth agreed.

Galithil did not fail to notice that the guard practically walked on his heels the entire trip across the courtyard.

*~*~*

When Galithil entered his family's talan, Dolgailon was in the public sitting room. Two warriors were with him. Dolgailon nodded in acknowledgment of his entrance, but did not stop issuing orders to the warriors. Rather than going to his own room, as Dolgailon clearly expected him to do, Galithil walked straight to them, making a point of stepping around past the warriors to see who they were. A lieutenant of the southern patrol and one from the eastern patrol. Ones entrusted with carrying orders, so ones Dolgailon judged to be wholly loyal to the King.

"Good," Galithil mumbled. Then he turned to Dolgailon.

His brother was frowning at him. "I am busy at the moment, Galithil," he began.

Galithil nodded. "I apologize for the interruption, my lord, but this will not wait," he said. "In fact, it might affect the patrols, so it is good their couriers are here. May I speak to you privately for a moment?"

Dolgailon's frown deepened, but he stood, gestured for the warriors to wait and made to lead Galithil and Galuauth nearer the balcony.

Galithil caught his sleeve and led him instead towards the door that led further into the center of the talan, towards the sleeping chambers. "Gwathron and Mornil just brought Manadhien news," Galithil whispered before Dolgailon could upbraid him for his behavior. "They asked me to leave so they could give it to her. Listening at the window, I overheard her say in response to whatever they said that she would not retreat. She ordered Mornil and Gwathron to divert some of them--she did not specify who 'they' were, but I assume orcs--to attack on two fronts. She specified one front was this village, but she did not name the other."

Dolgailon's eyes widened and he leaned closer to Galithil. Galithil clearly had the Troop Commander's full attention now.

"She said she outnumbered us, but did not mention her numbers, and that an attack on two fronts would be more difficult for us to manage than for her. She said it would be more likely to catch us all and would certainly catch you and me. And she seemed to know that we know who she is."

Dolgailon whistled softly and glanced at the two warriors. "Come sit down, Galithil," he said. Then he walked back to the sitting area to rejoin the warriors.

They regarded both Dolgailon and especially Galithil with curiosity.

"Tell Maethroness to ready her guards," he said with no preamble. "I now have clear evidence the orcs you have been watching are staging an attack, not simply some sort of movement within their territory. It sounds likely that the entire contingent will join the battle."

That caused the warriors to stiffen.

"Warn her and your captains," Dolgailon continued, "that these orcs may well employ better strategies than normal. Elves may lead them."

The warriors mouths fell open at that. Even Galithil was startled by that assertion.

Dolgailon ignored their reactions and quickly explained who Fuilin and Glilavan were and how Manadhien had led orcs herself before, so it was little stretch that she would command her servants to do likewise now. Finally, he explained the king had spies watching Fuilin and Glilavan, with orders not to allow them to escape. "If you see elves amongst the orcs, if they appear to be fighting allied with the orcs, trust what you see and treat them accordingly. Offer them no quarter, for they are no more likely to offer you quarter than orcs are."

"Are you ordering us to kill those elves?" the lieutenant of the Southern Patrol asked, shaking his head with wide eyes. "Glilavan is Tulus's son. He and I shared a tutor as children. And Fuilin..."

"Fuilin and Glilavan sold the King's son to Easterlings not one moon ago," Dolgailon cut him off. "And when Lord Legolas escaped, Fuilin led elves to try again to kill him. Glilavan tried to kill him in the Great Hall in front of the King. I am not ordering you to kill them. I am ordering you to ensure they do not escape. That is the King's command."

The lieutenants both bowed, eyes still wide. "Yes, my lord," they said.

"Also, you may soon see signs that the orcs will turn west," Dolgailon continued. "Or at least some of them might. I want you to be on guard for that," he said, pointing at the Southern Patrol's lieutenant. "If they do, your patrol will follow the ones going west. They will be aiming to attack this village. Galithil and I are their targets, but I do not doubt they will destroy the village to get to us if need be. If they come here, I want Ostarndor to confer with me how best to manage them. I will be defending this village personally." Dolgailon turned to the other warrior. "The eastern patrol will stay with Maethorness's village. Tell Delethil to bring more warriors further south to protect her and he may command that battle as he judges is best. I will send orders to Dollion and Esgalason to redistribute their patrols to compensate along the eastern border. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the warriors repeated.

Dolgailon nodded to them. They bowed and hurried from the talan. Through the balcony window, Galithil watched them running towards paths that led out of the village. Dolgailon, meanwhile, faced Galuauth. "Can you find a way to speak to Tulus, Tureden or one of the other spies?"

"I spoke to Tureden last night," Galuauth replied. "He said he has not seen Tulus for several days, but he thinks he went south. That is what one of the other spies said. Apparently, one of the elves watching Glilavan delivered some news that Tulus needed to attend to personally. The point is, yes, I think I can speak to Tureden again."

"Warn him we have been discovered, but we do not know how she discovered us or if Manadhien is aware of them yet." Dolgailon paused and looked to Galithil to confirm that. Galithil nodded. "I think we had better assume that she does know about the spies watching her, but tell Tureden they should not alter their normal routines. Let her think we do not know that she has discovered our plans. It might give us an advantage."

"Agreed, my lord," Galuauth said.

"Tell Tureden I want to speak to him, since Tulus is not here. I need to discuss with him how to manage these arrests. Since we have been discovered, we will need to act much more quickly than we had planned. We cannot wait for the King to travel here. I think I will recommend to Tureden that I should go now to find Fuilin and Glilavan while he and the other spies arrest Manadhien, before this village is attacked and all of them disperse."

Galithil sat bolt upright at that. "You are going to go south to look for Fuilin and Glilavan? But you just said they would be with the orcs. And if this village is going to be attacked, you need to be in it. You told the courier you would defend it."

Dolgailon laid a hand on Galithil's shoulder. "This is happening too fast, Galithil, and we must remain in control of it. According to the scouts, those orcs will be in place to attack Maethorness's village very soon. I need to know if Fuilin or Glilavan is commanding that attack--I need to be certain they are still contained and I need to know how to command my warriors if they are not. If Fuilin or Glilavan is with the orcs attacking Maethorness, I am going to have to trust the spies or warriors to capture them. I cannot make it to the eastern border myself that quickly. And if they are still in the south, where the spies have been watching them all along, they must be arrested before the attack on this village because we have to arrest Manadhien before that attack, lest she use it as a diversion to escape herself. Both arrests have to be carefully timed so that no one is alerted and has opportunity to escape."

"I fear, if Fuilin or Glilavan traveled with the orcs, the spies watching them, possibly even including Tulus, since he apparently went south, must be dead, else we would have a report of their movements, my lord," Galuauth said softly.

Dolgailon nodded. "Agreed. I imagine Tulus left when he heard either Fuilin or Glilavan or both were on the move, looking for more information before determining how to manage that. My hope is that he is tracking them and will find a way to communicate with us soon. But I cannot count on that or wait for it."

"How can I help?" Galithil asked, trying to appear confident that Dolgailon intended to let him help.

The hand on Galithil's shoulder tightened. "As much as I hate this, you have to continue on as if nothing has happened. Give Manadhien no reason to think any of our plans have changed. No need to push her along faster by making her think the trap is tightening around her." He looked at Galuauth. "From now on, both you and Lanthir will be with him at all times if he is not in this talan. One of you openly and one hidden."

"Yes, my lord," Galuauth replied. He did not seem to need that order, nor, strictly speaking, did Dolgailon have the authority to issue it. The King's Guard did not fall under his command. But Galuauth would not question Dolgailon's right to act as Galithil's guardian in the King's absence.

Dolgailon turned back to Galithil. "When you report to her about the patrols tonight, tell her...." He drifted to a stop, shaking his head. "What can we tell her?" he asked. "If we tell her the patrols are following their normal routes, she will learn from the village guards loyal to her that is not true. If we tell her I have sent warriors to intercept a possible orc attack, she might have reserves to make her attack worse, but I do not have more warriors to send south unless I pull them from the north. I fear to leave the stronghold less protected since I see no logical reason for this attack on Maethorness."

"I recommend telling her everything remains normal," Galithil said. "It will take time for her to find out differently, and that serves us. Plus, she already knows we are lying to her. What is one more lie?"

Dolgailon nodded. "True enough. Tell her that. I will tell Seregon to prepare the loyal guards for an attack and, if the attack occurs in my absence, Seregon and the officers of the Southern Patrol will defend this village. You have been performing the inspections of the talan the villagers shelter in yourself? Everything is as I showed you it should be?"

"Of course," Galithil responded.

"I want you to inspect it twice a day until the battle begins," Dolgailon ordered. "Wear that mail uncle Thranduil told you to bring, keep your weapons close and avoid Manadhien and those loyal to her as much as possible. When the battle starts, you go straight to the talan. You may fight, but from there only."

"Understood," Galithil said quietly. "Those officers," he gestured with his chin towards the window, "already scouted the orcs? Did they say how many they saw?" He managed to ask that question perfectly steadily. Despite that, Dolgailon gave his shoulder another squeeze.

"A large number," he admitted. "We will be facing around a hundred orcs if she sends here half the numbers massing near Maethorness's village. As you heard, I ordered the majority of the Southern Patrol to defend us."

"A little more than three dozen warriors," Galithil said.

Dolgailon nodded. "And ten or so village guards and the villagers themselves. They always make a fierce defense as archers from the talan. You have seen that before."

It was true. Galithil saw such a battle. Their father died in it.

"This is a battle we will win," Dolgailon said, his tone reassuring. "It will be a large one. And likely a costly one. But we will win it."

"But you have to make sure Manadhien does not escape during it," Galithil said. "While also making sure Fuilin and Glilavan are arrested, without even really knowing where they are."

"Yes, I do." Dolgailon agreed.

Galithil could not imagine how his brother intended to do that. This situation had deteriorated very quickly. Galithil found himself praying it would not get worse.

*~*~*

The candles in the Hall had burned down considerably and Legolas was mapping the information in the final patrol report when Hallion made a confused noise. Legolas looked up at him. He was turning one of the courier's letters over in his hands. Legolas squinted at it and was surprised to recognize the handwriting. "Is that from Tulus?" he asked, leaning closer.

"It seems so," Hallion responded. He sounded skeptical and was studying the seal--nothing more than wax smudged into place over the fold of the letter. No markings.

"What does it say?" Legolas asked, holding out a hand for it.

Hallion gave him the letter, watching while he read it. It contained three lines: The owl has not returned. Otherwise, all is well. Nothing to report. Legolas scowled at it. That seemed very...odd. Tulus was not known for being succinct. Even notes he wrote for the owl to carry had been longer, and they had to be crammed onto squares of parchment small enough to fit in Legolas's palm.

"Is that definitely Tulus's hand?" Hallion asked. Legolas would know it better than Hallion, having seen and copied reports from the Guard for over a dozen years.

"It looks like it," Legolas answered. He had not taken his eyes off the letter, such as it was. "It does not contain the symbol it should," he observed and his scowl deepened.

"I suppose it is possible that Tulus still has not had a chance to speak to Dolgailon since he and Galithil arrived in the village. If that is the case and Tulus did not receive our last message before sending this one, he might not yet know he should include that symbol," Hallion said, reaching for the message and running his own finger lightly over the writing while studying it closely.

"Maybe," Legolas conceded, making sure his tone made it perfectly clear he did not believe that at all. "And it might be logical for Tulus to send an update by courier if the owl has not returned, rather than failing to send one at all, especially since by now the King should have alerted them to his presence in the south. But how did Tulus get this message to a courier without revealing himself? If he has not spoken to Dolgailon, then Dolgailon could not have passed it for him."

Hallion frowned. "Perhaps one of the other spies with him gave it to Padanil? One that would not be recognized so easily by Manadhien or the couriers?"

"I suppose that is possible," Legolas replied. But we should confirm that rather than assuming it, he thought. He did not say it out loud because he was certain Hallion would draw the same conclusion. Much to Legolas's great concern, he did not appear to.

Still frowning, Hallion put the message in a stack of papers to be stored in the King's office and reached for the next item the courier delivered.

Legolas leaned forward and covered those papers with his hand. "At a time when the Troop Commander and King are both in the south," he said, "just after we learned Manadhien is sending forged orders to the patrols, we have a message that essentially says nothing, delivered in a wholly unexpected and unexplainable manner, that does not contain the necessary code. How does that make you feel? Do you honestly think we need make no response to this at all?"

"It concerns me," Hallion admitted, sitting back in his chair. "But not terribly so. Tulus is not alone in that village, after all. There are six other spies with him. Even Tureden is there now. If something has happened to Tulus, all his fellows must have suffered the same fate, else they would have reported his loss by now. I cannot believe eight elves could be apprehended so quietly that neither Dolgailon nor any of his guards noticed it." He gestured at the letter with a jerk of his chin, glaring at it. "I think Tulus would have been wiser to communicate with Dolgailon and have Dolgailon send us a message, rather than trying to send one by courier himself. But for all we know, that is exactly what happened..."

"But the symbol would be in the message then," Legolas interjected.

"That symbol was designed by Dolgailon for the patrols. Maybe he and the King did not intend for Tulus to use it. I cannot honestly say I remember the King saying he expected that. Especially since Tulus is communicating by owl..."

"But the owl did not deliver this message..."

"Because it has not returned yet. Tulus made that clear. Birds are not completely predictable. And this is a wild owl, not a trained hawk," Hallion countered, speaking firmly and now turning his glare from the letter to Legolas.

Legolas glared back at him unflinchingly. He would not back down on this. Too much was at stake. Too many lives.

Hallion sighed. "What would you have me do? We cannot march into that village and inquire after Tulus's health."

"Ask Padanil who gave him this," Legolas suggested, picking up the letter. "If it was Tulus, or if Padanil can confirm it was some other trustworthy source, we have nothing to worry about. If not...truthfully, that does not bear thinking about. If Manadhien forged a letter from Tulus, that implies she knows everything. Dolgailon, Galithil and the King are all in grave danger, if they are still alive."

"Padanil would be a quarter of the way through the Guard's patrol area by now, at least," Hallion replied. "And it will be four days before he returns again. By then, this whole business should be finished."

"I think we should send someone after him," Legolas insisted.

Hallion loosed a humorless laugh. "Who?" he asked, spreading both arms wide to encompass the unoccupied table.

Hallion had him there. The entire council and nearly all the Guard, save Colloth, were already abroad. And not just any warrior could be entrusted with this duty. The only warriors still in the vicinity of the stronghold that the King had informed of his plans to capture Manadhien were Dollion and a select few of his lieutenants.

"By the time I could have someone deliver an order to Dollion to find Padanil, I could travel to Dolgailon's village and investigate this myself," Hallion said, echoing Legolas's thoughts. He immediately held up a single, forbidding finger when Legolas drew a breath to speak. "I cannot leave the stronghold when the King is abroad, so do not even suggest it," he added.

"Then I will go," Legolas replied. And he had no doubt how his uncle would react to that idea.

Hallion did not disappoint.

He turned in his chair, eyes widening in shock and just as quickly narrowing into a glare to add emphasis to the firm shake of his head. "No," he said flatly. Then he leaned over, one hand on the table to support himself, and seized Legolas's arm in a fairly bruising grasp. "To Dolgailon's village?" he asked. "With Manadhien in it? I will lock you in a cell if you so much as think it again. The very worst possible outcome of our present situation is that Manadhien might manage to capture or kill both the king and his heir. If you believe I will allow that to happen, you have completely taken leave of your senses."

Legolas surprised himself with his own response to Hallion's words and actions. He felt a surge of outrage at such threats and treatment. He only suppressed the urge to physically throw off the hand on his arm by reminding himself that this was his uncle, who had helped raise him and was responsible for his safety in his father's absence. He forced himself to relax and simply glanced at his arm before meeting Hallion's gaze with a raised eyebrow.

Hallion was already cringing at his own words. "I beg your pardon, my lord," he said quickly, releasing Legolas's arm. But his expression did not soften in the slightest. Indeed, he crossed his arms across his chest.

"I am not suggesting I go to Dolgailon's village," Legolas explained. "Only that I could go after Padanil to ask about Tulus's message. He has been a courier for a very long time. Tulus knows him well. Perhaps he decided to take him into his confidence when the owl did not return. But we should confirm that, because the alternative is that Manadhien forged this message and therefore knows all." Legolas braced himself for his next words, not certain how he would enforce them, if it came to that, but he intended to. "Indeed, given that the King's life may be at stake, I insist that we confirm Tulus sent this message. The choice how we do so is yours, but I am not sure who we can send in a timely fashion other than me or yourself."

Legolas watched as Hallion's brows puckered severely and he drew himself up to his full height. Then he seemed to check himself and regard Legolas for a long moment without a word.

"It is only a matter of traveling a few hours south of the stronghold," Legolas said very softly into the silence. "I regularly hunt that far south. And Colloth will be with me."

Hallion still stared at Legolas. "Go," he finally said. "Fully armed, wearing mail and with Colloth. Find Padanil and come directly back here with what ever information you learn from him. Do not even dream of going any further south than your adar allows you to go to hunt, even if you cannot catch Padanil. If he has already gone too far south, you send one of the patrols to fetch him back. Understood?"

Legolas stood, bringing Hallion to his feet as well. "Yes, my lord steward," he said with a half bow and a smile.

Hallion caught him by the arm again as he straightened. "I am serious, Legolas. I fear facing your naneth at the lunch table with the news that I allowed you to go after Padanil. I definitely do not want to face your adar and explain to him how I sent you into Manadhien's hands. And I am not certain either of them will accept as an excuse that I was obeying the command of the Prince of this realm, though that is precisely what I am doing."

Legolas bit his lip. He had put Hallion in a difficult position and he had done so intentionally. He hoped he would not regret that decision, but he had a very uneasy feeling about Tulus's message. One he could not ignore. "I will be careful. I promise," he responded.

Hallion only nodded. "Return before nightfall."

"I will," Legolas responded.

Hallion released his arm.

*~*~*

In the end, much to Legolas's dismay and Colloth's disgust, they did not go after the courier alone. Berior and Anastor went with them. They crossed paths when Legolas was leaving and Berior, Anastor and Noruil were returning to the stronghold for lunch. Berior would not accept Legolas's refusal to discuss his mission--one that required him to be fully armed simply inspired too much curiosity. He followed, pestering him, until Legolas confessed, not wanting to waste time in his pursuit while arguing. Berior immediately understood Legolas's fears regarding what might happen if the message was forged. And his response was: 'They are guilty of my adar's murder. I will go to Mordor itself before I will allow them to escape, or worse still, be responsible for the King's death.' No argument could convince him to stay in the stronghold.

Though Legolas did not speak to Berior in Anastor's presence, it was obvious Anastor at least guessed Manadhien was somehow behind their heated words. He stuck to them like a wolf on its prey and laughed outright at both Legolas and Colloth when they tried to order him back, declaring he bought his right to accompany them with his own blood.

Legolas could not deny that.

At least Noruil remained behind.

Legolas concentrated on moving swiftly through the trees and forced himself not to think about what his uncle Hallion--or naneth--would do when they got the report from the training masters that Berior never returned to training.

"We are approaching the border of the Guard's patrol area," Colloth called, his voice right at Legolas's ear. The further south they travelled, the closer Colloth had followed him, until now, he was practically on top of him.

Legolas assumed they had gone nearly that far. He did not know this part of the forest well. They were past the territory where he was allowed to hunt. He had only travelled this far south twice and neither time had anyone taken the trouble to show him how to identify the borders of the patrols.

"It will be dusk soon," Colloth said after a few moments, trying again to bring Legolas to a stop.

"I know," Legolas replied. And he also knew he should obey his guard and cease his pursuit of the courier. "Just a little farther, Colloth. We must be close to catching him."

"If we do not find him soon, we will find a warrior to go after him," Colloth replied. "The eastern camp of the Western Patrol is within a league of here."

Legolas stifled a sigh. Colloth was right. They could not safely go further. Especially with Anastor. He carried a sword from the training fields. Legolas could not even be certain it was sharpened. He was certain Anastor had little idea how to use it. He could not lead his friend into territory that orcs regularly roamed.

"There!" Berior called, pointing ahead of them. "Is that Padanil or a warrior or....?"

Legolas peered through the red and yellow fall leaves in the direction Berior pointed. His cousin was always the best scout amongst them when they hunted. He had no doubt Berior spotted something, even if Legolas did not yet see it.

Just as Legolas registered movement in the branches, Colloth loosed a call and the movement stopped.

It was the courier then. Or a patrol. Either was better than the alternative Berior had not dared voice--spiders. Legolas doubled his pace towards the tree where he last saw rustling branches, hoping it was Padanil. Quickly, the courier came into view, turned towards his pursuers, waiting crouched on a branch in a stout oak. His eyes widened when he recognized Legolas.

"My lords," he greeted them, his tone questioning as he glanced between Legolas and Berior.

Legolas, with Colloth on his heels, leapt easily onto a branch nearby Padanil. Berior had the good sense to remain in the background and keep Anastor there along with him.

"I cannot imagine what message I might have left behind that was so important the king's son would be sent to deliver it," Padanil said, trying to smile as he looked Legolas up and down. His brows shot up when Legolas did, in fact, withdraw a message from his tunic pocket and hand it over to him. He looked from it to Legolas.

"Do you remember who gave you this message?" Legolas asked with no further explanation, fearing hidden ears might be nearby.

Padanil glanced at it again, turning it over in his hands. "I believe this one came from Lord Dolgailon's village," he replied uncertainly. "I though the unmarked seal was unusual, so I remember it."

"Lord Dolgailon gave it to you himself?" Legolas asked, feeling a surge of relief. He had been overly concerned, but he was perfectly happy to learn that.

"No," the courier said, shaking his head. "Lord Dolgailon gave me orders for the Western Patrol, since I pass their base camp on the way to the stronghold. Those he gave me himself. This," he studied the message again, "was in the pile of correspondence I picked up from his desk."

"In his private office?" Legolas asked, tension claiming him once again.

Again Padanil shook his head. "His office in the meeting hall."

"Was it locked?" Legolas asked, with no real hope the answer would be affirmative.

"The meeting hall?" Padanil asked. "The office door," he quickly guessed again in response to Legolas's frown. "No, it was not locked. Should it have been?"

"No, I suppose not. Thank you, Padanil," Legolas replied, his mind already analyzing what the courier's answers might mean.

"By your leave, my lord?" Padanil said, frowning.

That drew Legolas's attention back to the courier. "Of course. I apologize for delaying you."

Padanil offered him a brief bow. "I am bound for the Western Patrol's camp and have a way yet to travel, so...farewell." He bowed again, nodded to Colloth and then in Berior's general direction. Then he disappeared into the trees.

"Not good news, that," Colloth commented, taking a step towards the north.

"No," Legolas agreed. It was, in truth, worse than bad news. They had learned almost nothing. The message still might have come from Tulus or it might not have. Dolgailon might have put it amongst the correspondence for the stronghold or, given the public nature of that office, Manadhien or one of her servants might have. Rather than following Colloth north, he turned his face south. Manadhien might not be terribly suspicious if he appeared in the village to visit his cousins.

Colloth's hand fell on his shoulder. "No, my lord," he said. "Lord Hallion asked you to return to the stronghold before nightfall. Bad enough that we will not do that." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Please do not force me to contradict you--publicly, since Anastor is here--by trying to pursue this matter to the village itself."

But they had to know if Manadhien had learned Dolgailon's true reason for being in the village. They had to warn Dolgailon and Galithil if she had. And the King. And if she knew...if she was forging Tulus's messages, Legolas's gut twisted in fear of what might have befallen Tulus. He looked more determinedly over his shoulder to the south.

A startled gasp to Legolas's left, from the west, caused both Legolas and Colloth to draw and nock an arrow.

"Oh no," Berior whispered. He was standing with his nose almost flush against the trunk of his tree. Anastor tip-toed next to him, also peering at the tree trunk.

The tree was far enough away that Legolas could barely make them out. The light had failed entirely, he was surprised to realize. He loosed a long breath and lowered his bow. He could see them well enough to know they were in no immediate danger.

With a growl, Colloth lowered his bow. "Get back over here," he hissed.

Both Berior and, less surprisingly, Anastor ignored him. After a moment's hesitation, Berior reached towards the tree. Then, into it. They must be looking into a large knot in the tree, Legolas thought. Berior pulled free a greyish-brown mass. It flopped limply in his hands as he inspected it.

"I said, get back over here," Colloth repeated his order much more fiercely.

"Legolas, I think you had better look at this," Berior said, still disregarding Colloth.

With a glance at his guard, Legolas began climbing through the branches to join his cousin. That elicited another growl.

"It is just an old, dead owl," Anastor said. "It could not be the first one you have ever seen." Then he laughed. "I know it is not because we scared you out of a tree with one when we were little. Or was that a dead fish hawk?"

Berior ignored him.

Legolas, on the other hand, and Colloth too, responded to his comment by doubling their pace. Before he even reached Berior's tree, Legolas could see that owl was the one Tulus had been using. Its pouch was missing, but the leg it should have been attached to bore tell-tale rub marks. More than that, even fading in death, Legolas recognized the speckled pattern on the breast of the bird that had beleaguered every one of his misdeeds his entire life. He had wished that bird ill more than once, but now found himself praying it had finally died peacefully of advanced old age.

It was old, Legolas said to himself firmly.

When he reached Berior's side, his cousin held out the owl for him to see. The index fingers of both his hands tapped the bird, one on its breast and the other underneath a wing. Legolas's whole body tensed. Berior's fingers hovered over the entrance and exit wounds caused by an arrow.

The owl had been shot. Deliberately killed.

"Oh no!" Legolas whispered, echoing Berior's earlier exclamation. His gaze darted from the owl, to Berior and finally to Colloth. The guard's expression was grim.

"What?" Anastor asked. "Someone accidently shot an owl when they were hunting. Or some child shot it playing with a bow. I shot a black squirrel that way once. Noruil tricked me into cooking it and trying to eat it too."

"I suppose it might have been an accident," Berior said, obviously not believing his own words.

"Why climb around to find a hole in a tree to hide it in, if you just accidently killed it?" Legolas replied.

"Why kill an owl on purpose?" Anastor asked.

Legolas pressed his lips together and looked at his friend. "Because Tulus is using it to communicate with the stronghold while he is in Dolgailon's village spying on Manadhien and preparing to arrest her and her servants," he finally decided to answer in a bare whisper.

Anastor's jaw fell open.

"That is why Galithil and Dolgailon are in their village," Legolas added. "And why the King has left the stronghold."

"But," Anastor whispered. Then he cut himself off, looked around them and took a step closer to Legolas until he was standing practically on his toes. "If someone shot the owl, and you think they did it on purpose, that means Manadhien did it because she knows why Tulus is there. She would have to be a fool to not realize why Dolgailon and Galithil are there." He grasped Legolas's tunic front. "Legolas, she will sell them to men. Or just kill them. Like the owl." His expression grew even more panicked and he glanced at Colloth. "If she finds out the King is somewhere near that village, she will kill him!"

"I know that, Anastor," Legolas replied.

"What are we going to do about it?" Anastor whispered.

Legolas remained silent, waiting for Colloth to say they were all returning to the stronghold to report to Hallion and calculating how he would convince him otherwise. They had to act as quickly as possible on this information and Legolas would not be persuaded that the best course of action was to waste time returning to the stronghold.

Colloth said nothing. He only looked at Legolas. His face showed open concern, granted, but that might be as much in response to the threat against the King as it was to the idea of Legolas involving himself deeper in this growing disaster.

"I recommend, since we are so close to the patrol's camp, we go there to see there is someone in it we can trust to carry a message to Dolgailon," Legolas said. "Padanil, possibly, if we can catch him again. And," he directed himself to Colloth, "if you can think of anyway to manage it, we need to get this information to the King."

"Agreed," Colloth said. "Stay close," he added. Without any further conversation, he moved off through the trees, heading south.

*~*~*

It felt odd to sit with his back to the plain, propped up against his pack, watching the forest. An age ago, when Thranduil was nothing more than one of his king's captains patrolling the borders, he would have sat with his back to the forest, confident nothing dangerous would approach him from inside his home. Danger came from without, not within. And elves were his allies, not his enemies. And choosing to hunt an elf to possibly kill him was unthinkable.

No so now.

A field mouse skittered across his outstretched ankle, making Thranduil jump before he could stop himself. He tried not to exhale so forcefully that Conuion or Engwe would be alerted, but knew his efforts were in vain. His guard smirked at him and his uncle rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Let a grass snake slither up your trouser leg and you will scream like an elleth," he whispered to Conuion.

Conuion only nodded at him once, slowly, still smirking.

A low whistle sounded just off to their south.

As one, Thranduil, Engwe and Conuion shifted to lie flat on their stomachs in the tall grass, each drawing and nocking an arrow as they did. They watched for any movements in the direction the sound came from.

The mouse crept over Thranduil's wrist. He twitched it away. It clawed its way up his shirt onto his shoulder, scurried the length of his outstretched arm and perched on his bow hand. Thranduil glared at it. Then he frowned, realization dawning. "Hold," he whispered.

Conuion glanced back at him, brows raised, but he obeyed, lowering his own bow and calling the signal for Pendurion and Belloth to also stand down.

"Have you lost your mind, Thranduil?" Engwe whispered, but he also lowered his bow.

The mouse set up a loud squeaking. Loud, at least, against the relative quiet on the plain.

Conuion looked with alarm between it and Thranduil and sank lower to the ground.

Within moments a brown robed figure emerged from the tree line, moving cautiously, but making fussing noises as his eyes darted back and forth.

"Oh!" Conuion breathed. He sat up and then stood.

Thranduil did the same.

Engwe followed suit, muttering something Thranduil was certain he was better off not hearing.

The Brown's eyes lit up upon seeing them. "My lord Thranduil!" he exclaimed in a perfectly normal tone of voice, walking forward, arms out, as if to embrace the king.

Belloth and Pendurion appeared from no where and pounced on him. "Sshh!" they both hissed.

"Do you want every orc in the forest to know we are here?" Conuion whispered, stepping in front of Thranduil. Engwe took a step closer to Thranduil's back, his arrow once again nocked.

The bearded figure winced slightly and he looked behind himself. Then he turned back to Thranduil and pointed towards the forest. "But they are all in there. Just south of the village," he said, hurrying over to the king. His eyes grew wide when he said 'village.' "I was coming to look for someone. A warrior. To warn them. And ask for help. Orcs are massing near the village Lord Aradunnon once lived in. And near the eastern border as well, my allies tell me." He stuck out a foot from under his robes and the little grey mouse climbed up his leg and disappeared.

Thranduil took a step closer to him. "How many orcs?" he asked. Galithil was in that village. And an attack, at this moment, seemed too well timed to be coincidence. His heart began to pound a little harder in his chest.

"Too many," Radagast answered. "And still more are coming. Worse still: they have elves with them. Elves! Four elves are with the orcs near Lord Aradunnon's village. Two of them I saw speaking to the orcs. I saw that with my own eyes!" he emphasized, as if knowing no one would believe him.

Thranduil did.

"The other two are hiding in the trees," Radagast continued. "My friends tell me another elf is amongst the orcs in the east, with another two in the trees. What does this mean, my lord? Why would elves speak with orcs?"

"Three elves amongst the orcs, besides the ones in the trees?" Thranduil asked. "Two here, and also one on the eastern border? Are you certain about the one in the east? And that you saw two speaking to orcs here?"

Radagast nodded. "Surely you are here to help those poor elves," he said, watching Thranduil closely, waiting for a positive response.

"I am here to manage them," Thranduil assured him. Explaining this to Radagast would be well-nigh impossible. "But I had counted on them all being together. And being much further south than here..."

"That they were," Radagast interrupted. "They and the orcs with them moved north in the last few days. The last three days."

That made Thranduil's breath come with a little more difficulty. The orcs and elves began to move exactly at the same time he left the stronghold? That could not possibly be a coincidence? At least Radagast's appearance saved him a dangerous and fruitless trip south to search for them where they no longer were. That, at least, was luck. "Can you show me where they are now?" he asked.

Radagast nodded. "Of course."

Thranduil forced himself to smile and laid a hand on Radagast's shoulder. "Thank you," he said.

Then he guided his guest to sit down in their camp and seated himself next to him, absorbed in thought. What was the meaning of the extra elf now with Fuilin and Glilavan? Who could that be? One of Manadhien's other servants, who had been in the village and now had left it? Another spy they did not know about? A prisoner? And why had they split up and moved, some straight north and some east? Another attack, like the ones Dolgailon already thwarted, no doubt. Most likely the backup plan Hallion warned Manadhien would have.

Hopefully when Hurion returned from the village, he would have an answer for at least some of these questions. Hopefully he would confirm Dolgailon's warrior were already prepared for the attack.

At least Tulus's spies were with his enemies to make sure they did not escape the forest. Better still, Radagast had promised to show him safe paths to find them. They would be arrested soon. Just as planned. And since Hurion carried orders to Dolgailon to arrest Manadhien on the morrow, this would be over soon.

*~*~*

Manadhien sat in her talan, watching the lanterns flicker in the distant courtyard where the evening dancing was in full swing. Her thoughts were not on merrymaking. A knock on her talan door preceded the entrance of Mornil and then Gwathron. She sat up a little straighter. "What news?" she asked, a smile already forming on her lips. Their expressions as they rushed in were clearly excited.

"Our scouts found the King," Mornil whispered. "Exactly where our spy in the stronghold said he would be. He is just outside the western edge of the forest, less than half a day's travel south of here. Engwe and three guards are with him. So is some old man. The scouts await your orders, my lady."

Manadhien's smile faded. "Who is the old man?"

Mornil and Gwathron both shrugged. "They do not know," Mornil said.

"Some wayfarer," Gwathron added. "Dressed in rags. Thranduil probably arrested the poor fool for eating a mushroom in his precious forest."

Manadhien waved a hand. "No matter. Kill him along with the guards. I want Thranduil alive. And Engwe. I think I will enjoy watching Thranduil lose his dear father's brother. I want to see that myself. Take them now."

"It will be done immediately, my lady," Mornil replied gleefully, but he did not move to leave. "First, we have another stroke of luck to report. While the scouts were searching for the King, they caught one of his guard traveling from the forest border to this village. He carried no written message and, like Tulus, he could not be compelled to speak, but whatever message he was to carry to Dolgailon, it will not reach him. That could only be good news for us." Now Mornil smiled so broadly he might have been mistaken for mad. "Perhaps Dolgailon does not even know the King is nearby."

"Perhaps," Manadhien agreed. "What of the orcs? Are they in position?"

Gwathron nodded. "The ones in the east are ready to attack Maethroness's village. Fuilin is with them. I ordered a legion of orcs up from the south. They will be here by midday tomorrow. The ones diverting here from the east should arrive before nightfall tomorrow. I ordered their captains to drive them all night and all day. We could be ready to attack this village by this time tomorrow."

"Attack Maethorness's village first," she ordered. "As soon as you can get word to Fuilin. Tonight while the village sleeps would suit me best. Raze it. That should draw the patrols nicely. Have the orcs move straight into this village the moment they arrive. Command that attack yourself, Gwathron. Remember, I want Dolgailon alive. I will manage Galithil myself. And I want as few deaths to the people here--the ones loyal to me--as possible, so keep tight rein over those disgusting creatures. Once the King's family has been dealt with, order the orcs to withdraw and return to help me manage these villages. With luck, the people will be ready to name a new ruling house in this forest by the time the sun sets tomorrow."

Gwathron and Mornil nodded and rushed so eagerly from the room that they barely bowed.

Manadhien disregarded their lack of courtesy. Soon, she thought. Soon.

*~*~*

AN: My apologies this time to Abraham Lincoln for the chapter title. Thank you for your patience. The pieces are now in place and the battle will be joined in the next chapter.

elleth -- female elf
Adar (S.) -- Father
Atar (Q.) -- Father
Naneth/nans (S.) -- Mother/mum
Emme (Q.) -- mummy