A deceitful peace is more hurtful than open war

Legolas tapped his horse’s side, guiding it eastward on the last fork in the path, the final approach to the stronghold. He could see the mountain’s shadow rising above the tree tops. Soon he would begin to see cottages and telain. The horse trotted along faster, sensing the end of their journey. Legolas let the animal set its own pace. He was too focused on the forest to notice much else. He reveled in the…energy…life… almost magic that was at its strongest closest to the King’s stronghold and the elves that thrived around it. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the sensation as he never had before. He returned now with a much clearer understanding of how fragile and hard fought the peace surrounding his home truly was. A peace the southern villages simply did not know….

He made an effort to push morose thoughts aside. They were, after all, almost home. Dolgailon, Galithil, Engwe and the guards, including Dollion—all of them safely home.

Well, one person was missing.

‘I did everything I reasonably could,’ Legolas repeated to himself for the hundredth time, even as his heart contracted. Dolgailon and Engwe even agreed he had. Tulus would prefer for him to focus on the good that came of it all. He would be pleased that Manadhien had finally been captured—something Tulus had long worked to see done. He would even be pleased Glilavan was once again the king’s prisoner. That was a far better fate than Mandos’ Halls. Or Dol Guldur.

‘Please let Tulus be with Namo and not Sauron,’ Legolas silently prayed. Then he forced his attention back to his surrounds.

Was it the events of the last week coloring his perceptions or did the forest not seem as vibrant as it normally did? He looked surreptitiously at the beeches that lined the path and then at Dolgailon, riding next to him. His older cousin was studying the trees as well. They were definitely subdued—whispering instead of humming merrily. The birds within them were singing their evening songs, but softly. Insects were coming alive as the light retreated for the evening, but rather than their typical bright chirps, their notes seemed long and solemn.

It might be the cold. The air was crisp enough that snow could cover the Green tomorrow morning. Or at least frost.

But it was not just the weather.

Legolas watched a lark perched on a cottage they were passing. The bird was fluffed out and huddled down between the roof and chimney against the cold wind, but that did not seem to be the reason it remained silent. Its head pivoted slowly around when it felt Legolas’s gaze and it stared back at him with distinctly doleful eyes.

Even the cottage itself looked sad. No light shone through the curtains. The door was shut. No smoke arose from the chimney. It was Tawaron’s cottage. Legolas frowned at it.

“Tawaron is one of the warriors I ordered to the border to support Delethil’s patrol, my lord,” Dollion said in response to his expression.

Legolas nodded. That explained the empty cottage. Cottages, he corrected himself while surveying the forest. Obviously a good many warriors were temporarily spread out to the far reaches of the realm.

Perhaps that was why no merry-making could be heard from the Green.

A minstrel was singing, to be sure. He had just finished a song—one Legolas barely knew, about the beauty of the forest. The same minstrel immediately took up another song, this one apparently about the charms of the winter season. Legolas could not remember ever hearing it before. It was cheerful enough, but hardly good for dancing. And no one joined the minstrel for the chorus.

“What an odd song to sing,” Galithil commented in a quiet voice. “No one even knows it. Why is he singing it? It does not sound very popular.”

“The popular songs all feature Thranduil,” Engwe whispered. “Or at least mention him.”

“Oh. True,” Galithil replied. He grimaced guiltily as Dolgailon fixed him with a disapproving glare.

“Are we not to mention adar’s name for some reason?” Legolas asked in a normal tone of voice. It practically echoed in the silence that cloaked the forest.

“The people will naturally be worried about him,” Dolgailon said.

A disgusted snort came from the back of the procession of elves. Manadhien’s reaction. Or possibly Glilavan’s. Legolas preferred to ignore both their presences. At least for as long as he was able to do so.

“And it is likely that the Queen is awaiting our arrival on the Green,” Engwe added. “The minstrels are, no doubt, attempting to be considerate of her feelings.”

A growl—definitely Manadhien—followed the mention of Lindomiel.

“Keep her silent lest I am forced to silence her,” Legolas ordered without so much as a glance over his shoulder. A muffled and immediately stifled cry of protest floated forward. Legolas disregarded it and turned to his uncle instead. “Neither nana nor I are going to mourn adar while he is still alive. And he is alive.”

“As you say, my lord,” Engwe replied, with a nod that was nearly a bow.

Legolas ground his teeth together to prevent himself from snapping at his uncle. Somehow, Engwe’s current extreme courtesy was even more annoying than his typical incivility.

No one else ventured further comment. Instead, a moment later, as the barnyard on the edge of the Green came into view, everyone in their party slowed and dropped back.

“Lord Legolas! It is Lord Legolas! They have returned,” a voice called from the Green.

Legolas searched for the source of the voice and his brows shot up. It was Torthil, his constant rival at the Oak, standing on a part of the Green that had just come into view. And he sounded pleased—excited even—to see him. He was pointing at Legolas with one hand, while waving the other, signaling his as yet unseen companions to join him. The minstrel immediately stopped playing and shouts arose, repeating Torthil’s announcement.

Fixing a neutral expression on his face, Legolas allowed his horse to canter forward and he led the way to the Green, inspecting the approaching crowd for any familiar, comforting faces as he broke through the trees. Almost immediately, he spotted Eirienil and Berior dashing in and out between the people surging towards him. They planted themselves at the head of the path, grinning at him amongst the now cheering elves. Before Legolas could smile back, Aewen and Brethil appeared next to them.

“Oh, thank Elbereth!” Aewen cried, looking from Legolas to her father, Dollion. She openly sagged with relief against her mother when she finally arrived at her side.

Maidhien, Anastor and Noruil popped into view. Upon seeing Legolas at the head of the returning party of elves, Noruil’s eyes widened and then immediately rolled skyward.

Legolas’s back stiffened. This was far too public a place and much too inappropriate a moment for any of Noruil’s cheeky comments.

The moment the horses set foot upon the Green, Noruil looked up at Legolas, one brow raised, one side of his mouth quirked down, chest puffed out, and drawing a breath to speak.

As Legolas cast about in his mind for something to say that might seem innocuous, but still be plain enough to discourage Noruil, Maidhien’s hand shot out of the folds of her skirt and grasped her cousin’s thumb. She gave it a sharp wrench, bending it in the wrong direction. Noruil yelped and jerked away, throwing her a dirty look.

A smile finally reached Legolas’s lips. “Thank you, Maidhien, and well met,” he said, slipping off his horse. One of the grooms from the barn rushed forward to take hold of its headstall. Blocked from view by the groom, Legolas leaned closer to Noruil. “You can say whatever you like…make any jokes you care to make…later. Inside the stronghold. Hold your tongue now,” he whispered into his ear. No one but his cousins and friends could have heard him over the shouted greetings of the crowd.

Noruil made a face at him, but hid it, at least partially, with an overly dramatic bow.

Berior, Brethil and Anastor immediately followed suit, with much more sincerity, accompanied moments later by the elves surrounding them. Maidhien and Eirienil bobbed a curtsy. Aewen might have as well if she had not been otherwise occupied embracing her father as he dismounted.

“And I thought the Silvan were fools to follow Thranduil,” Manadhien said loudly. “Now they are willing to follow children.”

At the sound of her voice, Dannenion and Dolwon’s heads snapped around and they both took a step back. Noruil straightened up from his feigned bow and stared at her with wide eyes.

“Is that her?” Maidhien whispered, reaching for Galithil’s hand and pressing herself against his side, half hidden, to look at Manadhien from over his shoulder.

“It is. It has to be,” Anastor said in a low voice. He moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Galithil, blocking his sister from view and never taking his eyes off Manadhien.

Legolas gave them a single nod. “It is her,” he said softly.

“Are those the traitors?” someone shouted, pointing at Manadhien and Glilavan, still sitting high above the crowd on their horses. “The ones who led orcs against their own people?”

All eyes looked first at the prisoners and then shifted to Legolas.

“That is Manadhien,” he confirmed. “Some of you might know her from the Old Capital as Marti or from Lord Dolgailon’s village as Moralfien. She stands accused of treason for many reasons—most recently for leading orcs against the southern villages.”

“Shame!” “Despicable!” “Disgraceful!” the surrounding elves began to yell, along with more personal comments directed at Glilavan from those who had served with him and under his command. He physically crumpled under the weight of them. His shoulders slumped and his head hung so low that his chin touched his chest.

Legolas could not help but feel a stab of pity for his former captain. His closest friend’s son. “Help them down from their horses,” he called to Galuauth.

Amongst it all—oblivious to it all—Aewen stepped away from her father and threw her arms around Legolas. “I am so glad you are back safely,” she exclaimed, hugging him tightly and burying her face against his neck.

Legolas automatically returned her embrace, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Manadhien, chin held high against the accusations aimed at her, looking down her nose at Aewen. Looking at her with far too much interest and disdain.

“Take them to the Hall,” he ordered as Galuauth pulled Manadhien from her horse.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard replied. He grasped both prisoners by the arm and began hauling them through the crowd.

“She ought to be tried for murder too!” one of the Sixth Years called as she passed him.

Dolgailon stepped forward. Since Aradunnon’s death, he had assumed his father’s duty to manage the populace’s questions for the king whenever they returned together from battle. “She will be,” he answered. “The king will hear all her crimes.”

Legolas loosened his hold around Aewen’s waist. He should face the people’s questions himself. And Dolgailon could barely stand. He was leaning heavily on Lanthir, still unable to bear weight on his injured leg. He needed to go into the stronghold to rest.

“What of the battles?” another warrior from the Training Program, this one a Third Year, called. “Were the orcs completely destroyed?”

“They were,” Dolgailon responded and he began to elaborate, relying on details Legolas and Galithil had related to him, not ones that he had seen or managed himself.

Legolas took a step towards him.

“May I carry anything else for you, my lord?” an assistant groom asked, stepping in front of him and blocking his path.

Legolas stopped short, but annoyance turned swiftly to amusement at the sight of the groom. He was already holding the small pack of clothes, borrowed from Galithil, that Legolas had carried from the village, along with two larger packs, a strongbox and a locked chest. He did not look as if he could carry more—he had no free hand or arm to tuck anything else under. Just the same, he was dutifully looking between Legolas’s bow, sword and—his brows rose involuntarily—the filthy, blackened leather pouch at his waist. The pouch that Legolas had taken from the orc and that still concealed Manadhien’s ring.

“I can manage my weapons. And this,” Legolas replied, brushing the pouch with his hand. “Thank you.”

The groom bowed awkwardly, packs shifting and slapping his legs as he did, and moved off towards the stronghold after Galuauth.

Following his movement with his gaze, Legolas caught Manadhien looking over her shoulder as Galuauth tugged her along, eyeing the pouch. He released Aewen altogether and turned enough to hide it from Manadhien’s view. She leveled a cool glare on him for a long moment. Then she lifted her gaze and fixed it on something behind him.

Someone, perhaps? Her face took on an arrogantly satisfied light and she made a slight nod.

Legolas whirled around and scanned the crowd. His cousins, friends…and Dannenion and Dolwon…stood immediately behind him, where she had been looking. But both Dannenion and Dolwon were engaged in shouting questions to Dolgailon, asking how their kin in the southern villages had fared. Legolas turned back to Manadhien. She had reached the middle of the bridge and was now craning her neck to inspect the Gates. He could not suppress a snort. ’Take a good look. You will never pass through them again,’ he said to her back.

Just before Galuauth pulled her through them, she cast one, last look over her shoulder at the Green, somewhere behind him.

Before Legolas could study the crowd further, the elves around him suddenly grew quiet and parted, moving swiftly to stand on either side of the path. Lindomiel, Hallion, Golwon and Arthiel came into view at the far side of their ranks. All of them, minus Arthiel, who was openly searching for Dolgailon, appeared exactly as they would on any other evening of merry-making on the Green. Perfectly serene. Legolas knew better. Even in the certain knowledge that neither Nana nor Uncle Hallion would say anything to him in this setting, Legolas could not stop his shoulders from tensing as he bowed at her approach.

Arthiel managed a quick curtsey and waited long enough for Legolas to nod to her, before rushing past him to reach her husband.

Lindomiel, Hallion and Golwon stopped in front of him, still studying him.

“My lady,” Legolas murmured in greeting, when his mother said nothing.

Emotions darted across her face—relief, joy, and, strangely, grief as well. “Oh, Legolas,” she said, voice shaking, “I know who you are and I know I should contain myself until we are inside the stronghold.” She reach towards him with hands that trembled. “But I find that I cannot.” With that, she grasped Legolas’s shoulders and drew him into a tight embrace.

Legolas returned it and his brows drew together sharply as guilt jolted through him. “I am sorry, Nana. I would never, for all of Arda, cause you grief. I would not have done this, save that, in the moment, I truly felt I had no choice if I was to comply with my duty to this realm.”

Lindomiel nodded and loosened her grip on him, but only so that she might put an arm around Galithil as well. “I do not doubt that,” she answered. “I know you both,” she squeezed Galithil’s shoulder, “acted to preserve the southern villages. And you succeeded against terrible odds.” She stepped back to look at them. Legolas could not stifle a gasp when he saw tears in her eyes. “As the Queen of this forest and its people, I am grateful.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I am also your mother. And while I have always known my son and foster sons would eventually become captains, I was not prepared for that to happen quite so soon.” She tried to smile, to lighten her words, but it was a watery smile, at best.

“I am hardly a captain, my lady,” Legolas replied. “I was fortuitously in the proper place to aid Dolgailon and the Southern and Western Patrols. Nothing more.”

“Perhaps we should go into the stronghold,” Hallion interjected quietly.

His underlying suggestion—to the privacy of the stronghold—was perfectly clear.

“An outstanding suggestion,” Engwe responded and, without waiting for anyone else to speak, he slipped between Lindomiel, Legolas, Galithil and the surrounding elves to make for the bridge.

Several of the elves he shouldered aside stifled laughter and shook their heads.

“For once, he is right,” Legolas said under his breath before adding in a stronger voice, “Dolgailon needs to rest. He is still healing and we have been traveling since dawn. Let us go inside.”

Brethil stepped forward. “Can we come?” he asked, gesturing at Anastor and Noruil.

Aewen immediately turned to Eirienil and Maidhien, her expression pleading for an invitation as well.

Anastor’s eyes brightened and he grinned at Brethil’s suggestion.

“Do not be stupid,” Noruil said, giving his cousin a shove. “We live in that mountain now. We have to go with him. Just like Berior and Eirienil.”

“But I do not live there,” Brethil said, “and you do not live with Legolas and Galithil, where we can all talk. Please, Legolas! Can we come?”  

Legolas loosed a quiet sigh and laid a hand on Brethil’s shoulder. “I still have work ahead of me tonight—managing Manadhien, at the very least—and, to speak perfectly frankly, I am very anxious to see my adar.”

Brethil bit his lip. “Of course you are.”

“Still, you are very welcome to join us in the stronghold. I would appreciate your company if you do not mind that I might be a bit late returning to my room.”

Brethil nodded with an eager smile that he tried to temper out of respect for the king’s condition.

“But, if you come,” Legolas continued, “please do not ask Galithil and I for details about the battles. Not tonight. Alright?”

Brethil’s brows furrowed and he drew a breath to protest that request, but the argument never passed his lips. He cut himself off and nodded instead. “I understand.”

Legolas offered Brethil a smile that he hoped was cheerful and turned to Dollion. “I am certain you are anxious to spend time with your family, but if you could spare a few moments more?”

“Of course, my lord,” Dollion replied, joining the large group poised to follow Legolas into the stronghold.

Legolas held out his arm to his mother, to escort her inside, and headed towards the bridge when she took it. The crowds made way for them.

*~*~*

Manadhien was studying the forest scene that decorated the brightly lit entry hall, when Legolas, surrounded by his family and friends, crossed into the stronghold. Her gaze ran up the pillars, carved as tree trunks, to the arched ceiling, carved to represent tree boughs. Some of the leaves of the trees were not painted, but rather set with green gems that sparkled in the torchlight. Manadhien openly lusted after them.

Legolas stopped just inside the Gates, staring at her. Even now, with a guard at her shoulder and her hands bound behind her back, her eyes swept over the hall as if it would soon be hers. His hand involuntarily convulsed into a fist.

“Close the Gates,” he ordered when everyone had passed through them.

Aewen and Brethil shot a wide-eyed stare at him. Anastor, Noruil and even their parents raised their brows when the Gate Guards hurried to comply.

Manadhien drew an audible breath as the stone doors closed and the seam between them disappeared.

Legolas did not acknowledge any of them. Instead, he turned to Dollion. “The Gates will stay closed until the king orders differently. No one enters unless they have legitimate business inside the stronghold. All those going out of the stronghold, even members of the family, must identify themselves and be recognized before they are allowed to leave.”

Now even Hallion was watching him intently.

Legolas did not care who thought he was overstepping his bounds. He had sacrificed too much to deliver Manadhien to the king’s judgement. He would not allow a mistake to lead to her escape now.

Dollion bowed. “Understood, my lord.”

“And, Dollion, I know the Guard is stretched to its limits at the moment, but,” he paused for emphasis, “only members of the Guard are to stand at the Gates. If you are working with Sidhion to allow the Sixth Years to share the Guard’s duties, they may not perform that one. Likewise, we will be placing a constant guard on Manadhien and Glilavan. Only officers of your Guard and members of the King’s Guard,” he glanced at Tureden, “may take part in that duty.”

“Understood, my lord,” Dollion repeated.

Tureden echoed him.

Hallion seemed to relax and he inclined his head to Legolas.

Legolas found his approval ridiculously reassuring. He faced Dollion again. “Your service throughout these battles was absolutely invaluable and I appreciate it greatly,” he said, making certain his gratitude showed plainly in his tone and expression.

“Agreed,” Dolgailon chimed in.

Dollion bowed again, more deeply. “Thank you, my lords. It was, as always, my pleasure to serve this realm and you.”

Legolas smiled at him. “I do not want to keep you from your family any longer. We will decide what is to be done with Manadhien and Glilavan. Tureden will brief you tomorrow on what we decide.”

“By your leave then, my lord, I will join my wife,” Dollion replied. But, instead of departing, he looked past Legolas to Lindomiel.

Legolas tensed. Through everything else that had happened, he had forgotten that the queen sent the captain of the Palace Guard to retrieve him. He did not want Dollion to be in trouble for his failure to do so. He stepped closer to his mother. “I refused to return with him, nana,” he whispered quickly. “Like Hallion, I put him in a position he could scarcely argue with. If you are angry, I am responsible for that, not Dollion.”

Lindomiel only reached again to squeeze Legolas’s shoulder—he could not escape the impression she was trying to convince herself that he was really there. Then she directed herself to Dollion. “Like Lords Legolas and Dolgailon, I also appreciate all you did over the last week. Sincerely,” she said. “But now it is definitely time for you to spend time with Menelwen. Say good evening to her for me, please? She and I have spent a fair amount of time together over the last few days.” Worrying, was the unsaid word that completed that sentence.

Dollion appeared relieved. He bowed once more before kissing Aewen’s forehead and departing through the Gates.

“Let us go into the Hall, shall we?” Hallion said.

Legolas nodded, glancing at the members of the King’s Ruling Council, while gesturing for Galuauth to precede them with the prisoners. The guard pulled Manadhien away from her inspection of the Gates and towards the Hall. Legolas’s uncles, mother and Dolgailon followed. Only Galithil lingered, holding Maidhien’s hand and waiting for his cousin.
 
Legolas turned to Maidhien. “Could you please take everyone else through to the sitting room?”

She nodded, bobbed a little curtsey and placed a kiss on Galithil’s cheek before doing as she had been bid.

Dannenion made a face in response to that gesture and stalked off in the direction of his own rooms.

As he always did, Galithil laughed out loud.

Legolas could not stifle a wry laugh either. “After losing an arm defending me!”  he whispered, watching until Dannenion and Dolwon disappeared through the guest chamber doors. “Apparently any goodwill he feels towards me does not extend to the idea of you marrying his daughter.”

“And never will,” Galithil replied. “I accepted that long ago.”

Grinning, they turned and strode down the center aisle of the Hall, past Manadhien, who was gazing at the tapestries that lined the walls, until they reached the meeting table at the foot of the dais.

Lindomiel was watching Manadhien, though from a distance. A distance that Galuauth appeared to be enforcing. He had gone so far as to release Manadhien and Glilavan’s arms to do so. Glilavan stopped where Galuauth left him, but Manadhien wandered forward, studying the scenes on each tapestry, until she reached the very base of the dais. There she looked up at the map of the forest behind it.

“This did come out well and no denying it,” she said out loud as she stepped onto the dais.

Hallion took two furious steps forward before Legolas caught his arm. “Do not let her bait you,” he said quietly. “Leave me to manage her.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Hallion replied, but he still glared at Manadhien.

“I am so pleased you approve,” Lindomiel replied through a locked jaw.

Manadhien turned and looked down at her from in front of the Queen’s throne. “You had a fair amount of practice, after all. Remaking it how many times?”

Lindomiel returned her glare levelly.

“Sit. All of you sit,” Legolas said softly.

Engwe, Dolgailon, Golwon, Berior and Galithil moved to their normal places around the table, or pulled out their chairs if they were already near them.

Legolas stepped over to his accustomed seat, to the left of the head of the table, and waited for his mother to take her seat next to him. Then he sat. Hallion sat across from him and everyone else settled into their places.  

“Manadhien, come here,” Legolas ordered, still without turning to look at her. He lifted a single finger from the surface of the table to arrest Tureden’s movement towards the dais when Manadhien did not immediately comply. “Glilavan,” Legolas added, nodding towards an empty spot on the floor behind the chair at head of the table.

Glilavan went where he was ordered without argument.

“We need to discuss what we are going to do with you, Manadhien,” Legolas said, ignoring the fact that she still stood on the dais. “I am very tired of the bloodshed that you insist upon causing and I want to make sure that you understand it is going to stop.”

Manadhien loosed a loud scoffing noise.

“You have nothing left to purchase alliances,” Legolas continued, speaking over her. He leaned forward and pulled one of the packs the groom had carried into the Hall towards him by its straps. Once it was within reach, he flipped it open. “This is all you now possess. Two sturdy dresses, which we took from your wardrobe, and some underclothes.”

She made an indignant sound as he rifled through the scant contents of the pack.

“A comb and some hair ribbons,” he continued, “because Galasserch’s aunt insisted that such things are a necessity for ellyth.” He closed the straps, buckled them and tossed the pack onto the floor next to Glilavan, where he intended for her to stand. “Take them or refuse them. I do not care. The rest of the clothing and furniture in your talan, along with the talan itself, we gave to the villagers to replace some of the possessions your orcs destroyed.”

That was met with absolute silence.

“Your valuables, I claimed for the realm.” He reached for the second pack, strongbox and chest. “Or for the king’s family.” He dumped the contents of the pack. A silver chain, some tools—gem working tools—and a tapestry fell from it. “This is for you, my lady,” Legolas said, standing and holding the tapestry up for his mother to see. It was a silver tree and a gold tree. “It is not entirely a fair trade—this tapestry is so much smaller and less expertly done than the one Marti destroyed—but it is pretty, so it might be worth hanging somwhere.” He folded it back and gave it to his mother.

Lindomiel’s expression was exactly what every member of the King’s Ruling Council was expected to wear in court. Nothing more.

“It would at least make good kindling,” Engwe muttered.

That caused Lindomiel’s eyes to laugh.

Legolas smiled at his uncle. “These,” he continued, picking up the tools, “I will have Criston and Crithad study. They can have them if they want them.”

Manadhien snorted at that.

“And then there is this.” Legolas picked up the silver chain. Small keys dangled from it. He used one to open the strongbox. Stacks of letters sprung up from inside it. “Manadhien is a meticulous correspondent. We have here ample evidence, in her own hand, of her handiwork conspiring against the King. He will be interested in these.”

“As if they were necessary now,” Engwe added. “After her deeds over the last week.”

“Indeed,” Legolas agreed, while selecting another key from the chain. “And what do we have in this chest?” He unlocked and opened it. “A bag of gems. Those will go into the treasury. And around two hundred gold coins.” He picked up a handful of them. “All marked with the signs of Easterlings. Whence might these have come?” he asked, allowing anger to sound in his tone.

Galithil loosed a long whistle. “That is what you are worth, Legolas? That is a fair sum. At least I know what of value I have to sell should the need ever arise!”

Legolas smirked at his cousin as Hallion and Dolgailon aimed a squelching glare at him.

“With the king’s leave, I will give a share of this to Anastor and Dannenion. I think they earned some recompense. The rest will go into the treasury.” He reached again into the chest. “Lastly, amongst your possessions, Galuauth gave me this. He found it when he searched you.” He held up a blue gem between two fingers, so she could see it.

That finally had the desired effect.

Manadhien rushed down the dais and at Legolas. Galuauth and Tureden stopped her before she reached the table and dragged her next to Glilavan. “Give me that,” she demanded. Her tone was commanding, but Legolas was familiar enough with authority to recognize an undertone of desperation when he heard one.

He studied the stone with an air of indifference. “When I first saw it, I could not imagine why you kept it. It is badly marred. It looks like a jewel smith’s first, failed attempt to cut a stone. But Galithil explained to me you have had it since the First Age. Your naneth made it for you and your adar gave it to you. Before you left Aman.” He held the jewel in the palm of his hand. “And it was damaged in the many battles you have fought. I can understand its value to you.” He stood and handed it to Galuauth. “You may have it back,” he concluded, gesturing for Galuauth to turn it over to her.

The guard tucked it into the pack with the rest of her remaining possessions.

Not a hint of gratitude showed in her eyes. Quite the opposite.

“Radagast assures me that it is a plain gem. Nothing more,” Legolas added, while seating himself. “My point is, Manadhien, you have nothing. Nothing. No wealth. No position. No ability to hide. Your names—all of them—and your deeds are known through out this forest. And in Lothlorien and Imladris. We have spoken to the Lords Elrond and Celeborn, and the Lady Galadriel, all of whom remember Manarinde Alcaremartiel very well. Your face is known to every person in the southern part of this realm and to all the villagers on the path to the stronghold. You could not hope to hide inside this forest or outside it, unless you remained in the wilds.”

She fixed him with a cold look.

“Moreover, I was there when the Nazgul spoke to you.”

Golwon, Lindomiel and Hallion all cut short a gasp. Berior did not manage to stifle his own.

Manadhien’s eyes widened.

Legolas nodded slowly. “Oh yes. I witnessed the entire conversation. Of course, I do not understand the Black Speech, but the meaning of his words was plain enough. He took you to task for the number of orcs that died in the first battle, correct? And debated with you the value of spending more on a second effort?”

Manadhien said nothing.

“I understood your answers perfectly well, since you made them in Westron,” Legolas continued. “You promised him the second battle would be an easy one. That the king was dead and the southern villages were ready to fall. That was why he marched with one hundred orcs to Maethorness’s village and allowed you to send your orc captains north to Dolgailon’s village with one hundred more. All told, you destroyed around four hundred orcs in those battles, did you not?”

Manadhien remained silent.

“Not to mention the fact that you lost the very valuable prisoners that you promised to deliver to Dol Guldur,” Legolas added with a glance at the Troop Commander.

Still no reaction.

Legolas leaned back in his chair. “You did not even deliver on the claim that you and your orcs had killed the king.”

“If he is not dead by now from that blow to the head, he will be soon enough,” she was finally goaded into saying.

Lindomiel’s eyes narrowed and she made to stand.

Legolas grasped her arm and held her in place. “Careful, Manadhien,” he warned in a low voice. Then he continued speaking as he had been before. “The king will live, but since I did, briefly, fear I might face the task of sentencing you myself, I spent some time contemplating what I would do with you. My choices, and the king’s, are either to execute you or hold you prisoner.”

She made another scoffing noise.

“We can hold you here. In a cell. Underground. Never to see the light of day again. Make no mistake, it could happen. No one can leave this stronghold when the Gates are closed, save by the king’s will. And you have no allies left to help you escape.”

“Liar,” she spat.

“Fuinil is dead?” he asked Hallion. “You saw his body? You recognized him, beyond any doubt?”

“I did, my lord,” Hallion answered.

“As did I,” Lindomiel added.

Manandhien’s eyes widened the slightest bit.

“I personally saw Demil, Mauril, Lagril, and Pelin die last month,” Legolas continued. “Of course you knew their fates. Perhaps, like Fuilin’s, you do not know Gwathron and Mornil’s. They died in the battle in Lord Dolgailon’s village after they were forced to abandon their efforts to carry you to safety. I also saw that with my own eyes.”

Tureden shot him a surprised look, which Legolas ignored, for the moment.

Manadhien now was blinking. Hard.

Remembering his Uncle Celonhael, grandfather and grandmother, Legolas found it hard to pity her. “Glilavan, do you intend to help her escape?” he asked.

“No, my lord,” Glilavan answered in the most meek voice Legolas had ever heard from him.

“That leaves you with no allies, Manadhien. Still, imprisoning you is such a risk.” Legolas paused until the silence provoked her to look back at him. “We could execute you. I killed Demil to protect Dannenion and Anastor. I killed Mauril in an attempt to protect the secrets of this stronghold. I could kill you, if forced to that.” He was pleased with how completely even his tone was as he made that claim.

Manadhien glared at him with utter hatred.

“But, a simpler solution occurred to me as we were traveling home. We do not have to execute you. We only have to bring you within reach of Dol Guldur. The forces there would be overjoyed to repay you for the damage you have done. Indeed, I imagine the Dark Power there will be searching for you until he is certain you are beyond his grasp.”

Manadhien said not a word. She managed to keep her expression blank. But the shift from hatred to a complete void told Legolas all he wanted to know. That threat had frightened her, as well it should.

He leaned forward. “Hear my words and hear them well, Manadhien: you will go with Galuauth to a cell and you will stay in it. If you do, you will be treated well. If you do not…. There is no one to help you. No where you can go in this forest or outside it where you will not be recognized for what you are—a servant of Sauron. And now there is nowhere you can go where Sauron himself will not hunt you for your failures. You are much better off accepting the mercy I am offering you. Reject it and I will make sure you regret that choice until the end of your days in Middle Earth—an end which will come very swiftly. Do you understand me?”

“I understand perfectly,” she replied.

“Good.” He turned to Galuauth. “Take her to the rooms where we keep the stores for Dale. They should be empty by this point in the winter. Lock her up. Allow her to keep the contents of that satchel, if she wants them, but nothing else. I will have Galion send her a mattress, a blanket and a chamber pot. You may allow in whoever delivers those items and no one else. Guard the cell until Tureden can take stock of the Guard and relieve you. When you are relieved, bring the key to her cell to me. Put it in my hand and no where else.”

“Yes, my lord,” Galuauth said with a bow. Then he thrust the pack into Manadhien’s hands for her to carry, before he escorted her from the room.

Legolas turned to Glilavan. “What should I do with you?” he asked in a quiet voice as the clicking of Manadhien’s heels on the stone floor receded.

“The same, I imagine, my lord,” Glilavan answered without looking up. “Everything you said about Manadhien applies to me as well. I have nothing and no one and I have done terrible evil.”

“True. But you have not participated in all the evils Manadhien did. You did not, for example, join the attack on the villages. In fact, you helped me capture Manadhien. You helped me recover Dolgailon.”

Golwon and Hallion exchanged a surprised glance at that. Lindomiel’s expression softened.

Glilavan still did not look up.

“You are not thinking of letting him go?” Berior exclaimed. “He murdered my adar!”

“Ssshh,” hissed Hallion.

Berior pressed his lips together, but his angry expression did not change.

“I do not have the authority to do anything but manage how to hold our prisoners until the king is able to judge them,” Legolas replied. “And I do not think it would be wise to hold Manadhien and Glilavan in close proximity. Too much could go wrong with that. Lanthir.”

The guard stepped forward, from where he had been standing behind Dolgailon’s chair.

“Take Glilavan to his cottage. No one else has claimed it yet and I believe the essential furniture is still in it. Guard him there until Tureden can relieve you.” He paused. “Glilavan, look at me.”

His former captain met his gaze.

“Your fate is not mine to order. If you stay in place, in your cottage, without causing trouble, I will recommend to the king that he take you again to the Havens. I will tell him you risked yourself to free Dolgailon and you helped to capture Manadhien. If you try to flee, I will come after you myself. And I will not hesitate to do whatever I must to prevent your escape. Understood?”

“I do not want to escape,” Glilavan answered. “I want to find my adar.”

Legolas sighed and only with effort managed to hide the pain that statement caused.

“What about Tulus?” Lindomiel whispered. Then she frowned. “Where is he?”

“Dead,” Legolas answered, also in a whisper. “Or worse. We could not find him when we went after Dolgailon, Galudiron and Hurion.”

Lindomiel, Hallion and Berior all whispered a prayer in response to that. “I am so sorry, Legolas,” Lindomiel added.

Legolas only nodded and gestured for Lanthir to remove Glilavan. Then he turned to Hallion, holding his hands up, palms out, to forestall the rush of words poised on the steward’s lips. “I have no doubt you have a good many questions for me, but there is still one more topic we must address that I would like to dispense with first.”

Hallion settled back in his chair. “Of course, my lord,” he replied.

Legolas smiled at his uncle in appreciation. Then he pulled the black leather pouch from his belt and spilled its contents. A simple, thin, gold ring clattered onto the table surface. “Manadhien had this in her possession. I took it from her. It is a magic ring.”

Everyone but Engwe and Dolgailon’s eyes widened at that.

“Surely not!” Lindomiel exclaimed, reaching for it.

Legolas caught her wrist and stayed her hand.

“Impossible!” Golwon cried.

“How is it magic?” Berior whispered. “I mean, what does it do?”

“I believe it has the power to make its bearer…more persuasive. More difficult to refuse,” Legolas replied.

“Absurd!” Golwon said.

“Enough,” Hallion ordered quietly, leaning back away from the table, arms crossed over his chest. He stared at the ring as if it were an unknown sort of snake and he was trying to determine if it was venomous or not. “How can we know it is a magic ring, my lord?”

Legolas could not remember ever hearing him sound more skeptical.

“If it is a magic ring, that explains how she could twist decent people to such wicked deeds,” Dolgailon muttered. His injured leg was stretched out on a chair, so he was already turned at an odd angle to the table, but he also glared at the ring with disgust.

“We know it is a magic ring because, as I reminded you when we last spoke on this topic, she was one of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain,” Engwe added with an annoyed tone.

Hallion shook his head. “That is not proof,” he began.

“We know it is a magic ring because Radagast said it was,” Legolas interrupted him.

Hallion, Lindomiel, Golwon and Berior all spun as one to stare at Legolas.

“Radagast saw this ring, my lord?” Hallion asked.

Legolas nodded. “He noticed it when he was treating Manadhien’s injuries immediately after her arrest and brought it to my attention. He refused to touch it.”

Hallion pressed his lips together and glared the ring for a long moment. “Radagast knows a great deal about animals and herbs,” he finally said, “but I do not think he made a study of magic rings. He certainly did not do so in this forest and, to the best of my knowledge, he has not left this realm since coming to it at the beginning of this Age.”

“I know it is a magic ring,” Legolas insisted. “When we first saw it, when she was still wearing it and we were discussing it, she tried to distract my attention from it with some feeble threat. Her words…I could feel their weight in my mind…”

“I experienced the same when speaking to her about the horses when I went to the village last month,” Dolgailon interjected.

Legolas nodded, but Hallion still regarded them with obvious doubt.

“When I first took it from her,” Legolas continued in a quieter voice, no longer able to look at anyone at the table, “I had ordered Glilavan to carry Manadhien, since she was too badly injured to walk on her own. He refused, ranted a complaint about my insistence that we should go straight back to Dolgailon’s village rather than searching for Tulus and said, if we intended to abandon Tulus, then may the orcs take us all…”

“I am sure you did not abandon Tulus,” Lindomiel said softly. “You kept Dolgailon and the guards you recovered safe.”

“Not to mention preventing the escape of two terribly dangerous prisoners,” Engwe added under his breath.

Legolas looked at his mother and uncle, trying to appear appreciative, though he still felt in his heart he should have found a way to do more for Tulus. “I lost my temper with Glilavan when he said that about orcs, after all he and Manadhien had done,” he continued. “It entered my mind to force him to carry Manadhien, or at least to be silent, and when I thought that…” he frowned and shook his head, gaze fixed on the ring. “I…felt it…the ring…it hummed to life like…well, rather like the Gates or the secret doors, only…colder. I nearly….” He cut himself off and shook his head again. Then he looked back at Hallion. “I am not completely unfamiliar with magic. I can recognize it. This ring is magic.”

Hallion drew further away from the table. “Very well, my lord. Then, the question is, what do we do with it?”

“We destroy it. Now. Tonight,” Lindomiel replied instantly.

Dolgailon nodded. So did Golwon.

“A worthy suggestion, to be certain, with only one draw back: do any of us know how to destroy a magic ring?” Engwe asked.

“How does one destroy anything made of gold?” Lindomiel answered. “We will ask Criston to make a fire in his forge hot enough to melt gold and we will reduce it to a tiny ingot.”

Hallion frowned. “Will that work with a magic ring? Or will the magic in it protect it somehow?”

That suggestion made Lindomiel’s brows go up. Legolas could not deny that it surprised—and concerned—him, as well. He agreed it must be destroyed as quickly as possible, but it had not occurred to him that there might be any obstacles to that now that Manadhien was locked in a storeroom in the lower levels.

“And if it breaks, what happens to the spell on it?” Engwe added. “I, for one, know nothing about how these things are made or if they are dangerous to unmake.”

No one said anything else. They only looked from the ring to Legolas.

“I agree, it might be too dangerous to try to destroy this ring without understanding it better,” Legolas said. “Even if that were not so, it is not truly our place to make this decision. It is the king’s. I cannot believe he would not want the opportunity to at least see this ring and judge its nature for himself.”

Berior and Golwon looked down at their hands in response to that. Hallion remained perfectly still.

“You are absolutely correct,” Lindomiel agreed, just a little too forcefully.

Legolas looked between Golwon, Berior and Hallion, who all refused to meet his gaze. “I recommend we lock it in the treasury until adar can look at it,” he said.

Hallion nodded. “As you wish, my lord. Berior, will you see it is secured?”

Berior’s eyes widened. “Of course,” he replied, voice small. His relief when Legolas scooped the ring back into its leather pouch before handing it to him was unmistakable.

That business settled, Legolas put his hands on the surface of the table and pushed himself to his feet.

Everyone jumped up after him. Even Dolgailon struggled to rise from his chair.

Legolas held out a hand, signaling him to stay in place. Then he faced Hallion. “I know there is more related to the events of the last week that you would like to discuss. I am perfectly aware that I…have a good deal to answer for. But we,” he pointed to Engwe, Dolgailon and Galithil, “traveled a long distance today. Dolgailon and Galithil are both injured and need rest. And I would truly like to see adar.”

“So do we,” Galithil and Dolgailon declared.

Engwe nodded also, too somberly to suit Legolas.

“May we postpone any remaining business until we can see adar?” Legolas concluded. He felt slightly guilty using such a plea as an excuse to avoid confrontation, but he sincerely could not wait much longer to learn how his father fared.

In response, Lindomiel took Legolas’s arm. “Go ahead,” she said, speaking to the rest of the family. “Legolas, Galithil, Hallion and I will follow directly.”

Galithil looked at Legolas sidelong with a grimace. Apparently, they were no more likely to escape their fate than Manadhien.

Berior cast his cousins a sympathetic look and, gathering up the pouch and chest of gold, turned towards the door. Golwon followed.

“It is not my place to interfere between you and Legolas,” Dolgailon said, pulling himself up by clutching the back of his chair, “But I do share in Galithil’s guardianship. As such, and speaking as this realm’s Troop Commander, I want to make it clear that without Lord Legolas’s intervention and participation in the battles…without Lord Galithil’s leadership in my village, especially in its defense, which I specifically left in his charge…Sauron would now be in control of the entire forest, south of the river. At least.”

“The reports we received made that very clear, my lord,” Hallion replied.

“And I read them along with Lord Hallion,” Lindomiel added.

Dolgailon pressed his lips into a thin line and laid a hand on Galithil’s shoulder before looking to Engwe to help him from the room.

Legolas watched them go. Then he pulled his arm from his mother’s grasp and faced her fully. “I do not apologize for anything that I have done,” he said. “I stand by my decisions and actions—every one of them—and accept whatever consequences there may be for them.”

“I do the same,” Galithil added, chin held high.

Lindomiel smiled at them, tears again in her eyes. This time she did not bother to try to conceal them. “How could the king’s heirs do anything less?” she asked. “I only wanted a private moment to tell you how very proud I am of you both. Thranduil would…will…say the same when he hears of all that has happened.”

Legolas remained silent chiefly because he was not at all certain that he had truly heard what he thought he heard.

“And if I may add,” Hallion said, “well done with Manadhien, my lord. Your adar could not have done better. You managed her such that we can at least hope to hold her until…until a decision can be made.”

Legolas blinked at them. “Nothing more? You are not angry? Neither of you?”

Hallion shook his head. “It is my duty to support your decisions, not question them, my lord,” he replied with a bow.

Lindomiel’s smile deepened. “Nor is it my place to question the decisions you make to protect this realm. I was not angry, not after I realized why you went south. I was terrified, but, truth be told, as miserable as it was wondering where you were, that was probably better than knowing. This way, by the time I found out you had fought in the largest battle of your young lives.” She fixed Legolas with a stern look. “And ventured closer to the Enemy than even your adar and cousin Dolgailon dare to willingly go, you were already safe.” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “Please tell me that you were lying when you told Manadhien that you were present for her conversation with a Nazgul. Tell me that Dolgailon reported what was said to you and you simply used the knowledge to good effect.”

Legolas frowned and glanced at Hallion. The steward remained perfectly still and silent. “Very well, nana. If you wish for me to tell you that, then I will,” Legolas finally replied.

Lindomiel loosed a frightened little noise and grasped his arm again. “You are home now. And the realm is intact. That is all that matters.”

Legolas patted her hand.

She opened her eyes. “Come, let us go see your adar,” she said.

Hallion stepped away from the table, waiting for Legolas and Lindomiel to precede him from the room. “About your adar,” he said as Legolas pushed his chair back into place. “His condition is very grave. Ready yourself. The effects of such a serious injury can be…a bit shocking to see.”

That warning made Legolas’s heart race. He ignored the fear beginning to churn in his gut by focusing instead on how to best retreat to the family quarters—through the main doors of the Hall or the hidden one behind the tapestry Manadhien had been so fascinated with moments ago. The hidden door was faster, but it closed by magic—magic that prevented him from opening it himself due to his recent his misuse of the secret passage from the stronghold—and he had enough of magic for one night, just as his mother did not need reminders of Manadhien’s evil past. He turned his back on the tapestry and strode down the center aisle of the Hall.

“Your adar has not awakened,” Hallion whispered in Legolas’s ear as they walked.

Legolas frowned. He could not deny that nearly a week of unconsciousness was a very worrisome sign. As inexperienced as he was with battle injuries, even he knew that.

“He required a surgery, to remove pieces of bone from…” Hallion touched his head in the same place where Thranduil’s skull had been crushed.

Legolas drew a long breath. Surgeries of any sort were serious. The surgery his uncle was describing…the implication of what he had said…well, Legolas had never heard of such a thing. He could not imagine…. He shook his head to dismiss that gruesome thought.

“The surgery itself is frightening, of course,” Hallion continued.

“Indeed?” Legolas interjected, dryly.

Hallion made an apologetic face. “But it also required some…changes that will be surprising and even a little disturbing if you are not prepared for them.”

Now Legolas looked at his uncle without any understanding.

Hallion grasped a length of his own hair and tugged on it. “Nothing can be in the way of an incision,” he said.

Galithil, walking on Hallion’s other side, loosed a shocked exclamation and grasped him by the arm. “Are you saying Nestoreth cut his hair?” he exclaimed. “Not all of it!”

“Not all,” Hallion reassured him quickly. “A good bit of it though.” His hand passed from the part of his own hair and down the length of one side of his head. “A good bit,” he repeated.

“No!” his cousin cried.

“I do not care if he remains as bald as a vulture until the world ends, as long as he lives to see that end,” Legolas murmured.

“Well, of course,” Galithil replied.

They passed out of the Hall and into view of the doors to the family quarters. Only one guard stood at them. Legolas blinked at the sight of him. “Pendurion! You are well enough healed to return to duty?” he asked, looking at the guard’s leg. He had been injured, badly enough to be disabled, while defending the king in Dolgailon’s village and he had returned along with Thranduil to the stronghold.

“I have recovered well enough for this duty, my lord,” Pendurion answered with a bow. “Since our ranks are a bit thin at the moment.”

“Perhaps Galuauth and Lanthir’s return will help,” Legolas replied.

“At least their presence will mean there are guards available to escort the queen,” Pendurion said, with a bow to her. Then he returned his focus to Legolas. “Eirienil and Maidhien took Aewen, Brethil and Anastor through, my lord,” he said, while holding open the door. “They will be waiting for you.”

Nodding to Pendurion, Legolas passed through the door, into the passage that held Golwon and Hallion’s rooms.

Hallion hurried past the door to his own chambers, to the end of the short corridor, and stopped at the entrance of the suit that Thranduil’s closest family shared. No guard stood there. The King’s Guard must be diminished indeed. Legolas reached for the door handle to pull it open, but Hallion grasped it first and stood aside to allow Legolas to pass through it.

“A few more details about the king, my lord,” he whispered.

Legolas stifled a sigh. Hallion’s ‘warnings’ were doing nothing positive for his nerves. Worse, his voice might draw his cousins and friends. They were speaking softly in the family sitting room and Legolas wanted to avoid them until he had a chance to visit his father. He picked up his pace.

“Nestoreth will not be with him,” Hallion said.

Legolas did not care which healer or apprentice was sitting with his father. He focused his attention on the end of the corridor and his parent’s room. At least there was a guard there. Upon seeing Legolas, Belloth came to attention. “My lord, welcome home,” he called.

“Thank you, Belloth,” Legolas replied. “It is definitely a pleasure to be back. And thank you for seeing my adar home safely.”

Belloth nodded gravely and opened the door he guarded.

Without waiting for more worrisome observations from Hallion, or even an invitation from his mother, Legolas rushed through the door.

The sitting room in the front of the suite was dark. Lindomiel silently led the way through it to their bedroom. A light shone through its door. The light of the fireplace in the room, from the way it flickered. Legolas followed his mother towards it. Dolgailon, he could see, was already sitting in a chair next to the bed. He turned at their approach. Another figure stood. Legolas expected to see Engwe, but his uncle was standing behind Dolgailon’s chair. An apprentice then, he thought, making to greet whoever it was as quickly as possible, without being rude, so that he could finally see his father. Then his eyes widened when he finally truly looked at the elleth approaching him.

“Helindilme? What in all of Arda?” he exclaimed, but even as he spoke, he realized why he was seeing the healer from Imladris. She was a surgeon. One with experience dating to the First Age. One who had seen all five Wars of Beleriand, the War of Wrath and the War in Mordor. Seeing her was reassuring and alarming all at once. Adar’s wound was so serious they called her back to treat it? Perhaps he should have listened to Hallion’s warnings.

“Lord Legolas,” she said, with a curtsey.

He inclined his head to her.

“Who is this?” Galithil asked, sounding utterly confused.

“Helindilme is a healer from Imladris,” Legolas explained. “The Lady Galadriel sent her. She arrived when you and Dolgailon were in your village and delivered some information about Manadhien to the king.” He turned back to the healer despite his cousin’s even more incredulous look. “I assume we owe the king’s survival to you. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to see you.”

As he spoke, Lindomiel settled on the edge of the bed next to Thranduil’s still form. She pulled his hand from under the blankets and pressed it between both of her own. “Legolas and Galithil are finally home, meleth,” she said in an overly cheerful tone. Then she placed his hand on the bed and beckoned to them. “Come greet your adar, Legolas.”

Helindilme took a step forward, as if she might intervene against that request, but she stopped herself.

Legolas, followed by his cousin, stepped over to the bed and looked properly, for the first time, at Thranduil. He felt a sudden, overwhelming gratitude for Hallion’s warnings and vowed on the spot never to dismiss the king’s steward again. His father was an alarming sight. He had visibly lost weight. He was still, pale, and sunken into his bed, with black circles around his eyes from the blow he had suffered. One side of his head, covered with bandages, did look quite vulture-like. And his breathing was labored.

Legolas steadied himself and knelt next to the bed. “This is why everyone is so somber,” he could not stop himself from whispering, still staring at his father.

Standing behind him, Galithil grasped his shoulder.

“Hush,” Lindomiel admonished.

“Aunt Lindomiel, Legolas—Legolas above anyone else—has to recognize the seriousness of this,” Dolgailon said gently.

“As Lindomiel must, apparently” Engwe added. His tone, if not his words, was kind, at least for him.

Even so, anger flared in Lindomiel’s eyes.

As it did in Legolas’s heart, but he made his best effort to control it. “I recognize the seriousness of this injury,” he said. “But I refuse to abandon hope.” He looked over his shoulder at the healer. “There is still hope, while he is alive.”

Helindilme nodded. “There is,” she agreed, but her voice was still grave. “For example, he responds to pain.”

Legolas’s expression hardened.

“As difficult as that might be to hear, it is a good sign,” she continued. “He opens his eyes and moves away from anything painful. His muscles are not rigid and he has not suffered any fits.”

“Fits?” Legolas repeated.
 
“That would be a definite sign that he will not recover,” she said. Then she fixed Legolas with the sort of look healers adopt when they are about to say something dire. “I have treated Men—Dunedain—who have been similarly injured either in battles or accidents. When a Man is in a similar state, I tell his family to prepare for his death. The fully unconscious can neither eat nor drink and the body cannot survive long without water.”

Legolas’s eyes flew open wide.

“I will not tolerate that type of talk in this room,” Lindomiel interrupted sternly.

“Lord Thranduil is not a Man,” Helindilme continued without pause. “An Elf can survive longer than a Man without water, but even an Elf will succumb eventually. Every Elf that I have ever treated with similar injuries either experienced fleeting moments of consciousness within, at most, a day after his injury, else he passed to Mandos’ Halls. Lord Thranduil has done neither. His fea is strong. Unwilling to leave, even a hroa that any other Elf would have fled.”

Legolas could not stop himself. He loosed a short laugh. “You are saying that my adar is too stubborn to die.” Somehow, that did not surprise him. Not in the least.

Helindilme smiled at him, apparently relieved by even a brief display of good humor. “He is. But he needs to awaken. Soon. Familiar voices may help that. Your arrival is the best medicine we can give him at the moment. Talk to him. Sing to him. Whatever you normally do as a family in the evenings. If there is a food or drink you normally enjoy together, ask someone to bring it, especially if it has a strong smell. Something spiced, perhaps? Meat? Some sort of cake? Mulled wine?”

“I would not refuse a goblet of wine,” Galithil said in a tone that was one step away from a completely lost temper. He walked around the bed to kneel next to his brother and grasp his uncle’s hand. “We are home, uncle. Legolas, Dolgailon and I. We held the village. And Legolas captured Manadhien. She is locked in the storerooms awaiting your judgement.”

Legolas felt certain his father would stir, at least a little, either at the knowledge that Manadhien was finally his prisoner or at the revelation that Legolas, himself, captured her. When he did not, Legolas could not stop his heart from sinking.

“Will you not wake up and greet us, uncle?” Dolgailon pleaded.

“Indeed, adar,” Legolas said softly. “There is a good deal to manage after such a large battle. We need you to help with it.” ‘I do not fear to manage it myself, or shrink from doing so,’ Legolas added to himself. ‘But I desperately do not want to. Not when it means this.’

No else spoke.

After a long silence, Lindomiel began to sing softly.

Sweet as the flowers in springtime,
Sweet as the honey dew,
Sweet as the bluebells in the bowers,
I am thinking tonight of you.

Legolas stifled a sigh. Another song he did not know. He thought he had heard most of the minstrels’ songs. Apparently he was wrong.

The song went on, telling of a young elf’s adventures in courting. When the end of the first verse mentioned flowers smelling as sweet as an ellyth, he and Galithil exchanged an amused grin.

The second verse, about the nectar of a flower, was as clear an allusion to kissing as could be made. It was enough to make Engwe clear his throat. “That is enough, Lindomiel. You do not understand that song very well,” he said.

“I have been married for an Age and have a child, Engwe. I understand it very well,” she interrupted her singing long enough to say.

Hallion was struggling not to laugh. “He means that you do not understand whose…dalliances it refers to.”

That caused Legolas, Galithil and Dolgailon all to look from Lindomiel to Engwe and Hallion.

“I have been a member of this family for an Age and I know all its stories. I know to whom this verse refers, at least,” Lindomiel said. Then she resumed singing.

Legolas bowed his head to hide his face, and his giggling, from his elders in the room. If Engwe had not enjoyed the second verse, he certainly would not like this one.

“It cannot be Thranduil,” Galithil whispered. “She would not sing it if it were about herself.”

Now Legolas could not hold back. He openly laughed. “It is about your adar, obviously,” he said, “Who else ‘gathered bouquets’ of flowers?” He laughed harder when Galithil adopted a mildly disgusted look and Dolgailon a positively scandalized one. So scandalized that Legolas wondered if he understood all the implications of the song. Lindomiel winked at him, but she did not stop singing.

“Honestly, under the circumstances, is this entirely appropriate?” Engwe asked with the haughty tone that never failed to irritate…well, everyone, but especially Lindomiel.

She stopped singing and glared at him. “Helindilme said to sing, and I am singing. I am singing the second song Thranduil ever sang to me. When we were courting. I would sing the first, but it was a bit melancholy, and that is what would be inappropriate at this moment. If Thranduil can hear us, and I believe he can, what do you think he would wish to hear? His family crying or his family laughing?”

“Laughing and neither crying nor arguing, I am certain, my lady,” Hallion said, managing to stare Engwe’s retort into silence. Then he laughed himself. “But perhaps we should sing of something that will not horrify Aradunnon’s children.”

Lindomiel made a half bow. “It is your turn, then,” she said.

Hallion shook his head. “I love words, but I do not sing them, my lady.”

Now Galithil grinned. “Well, if our goal is to get a rise out of Uncle Thranduil,” he said. Then he broke into another song:

It's the howl of the pack,
the joy of the chase,
the suspense of the prowl,
the thrill  of the hunt.
the delight of the conquest.
That is why it is grand
to be a wolf.

And he sang it the way Amglaur had taught it to them, not as Thranduil had. Legolas, Lindomiel and Dolgailon immediately joined in.

“Mercy!” Engwe cried.

Lindomiel and Dolgailon continued that song into its second verse as Legolas and Galithil answered their uncle’s protest.

“We know you are a Wolf, Uncle,” they said in unison and laughed in earnest as his overly offended expression melted to guilt and then resignation when they refused to back down.

Trying to stifle his laughter enough to rejoin his mother in the song, Legolas felt a finger, fumbling against his hand. His mother’s, surely, but it was unusually cold. He looked down to find her hand and hold it. To warm her up.

But Lindomiel’s hands were now clapping in rhythm to the tune.

“Adar?” he whispered, holding his breath.

His father’s hand was lying next to his, closer than it was before, he was sure of it.

He nudged his mother with his other hand and pointed down at Thranduil’s. She stumbled over a verse of the song before falling silent.

“Adar, can you hear us? Can you move your hand? Can you show us that you hear us?” Legolas asked, now completely serious.

Now everyone stopped singing. Engwe, Dolgailon, Galithil and Hallion leaned over the bed, watching.

“Uncle, can you hear us?” Galithil repeated.

“Please show us that you do, meleth. Please,” Lindomiel pleaded.

Thranduil’s little finger twitched. Legolas was sure of it. Then, suddenly, it lifted, quite deliberately, and moved slightly to the side, enough to lay across Legolas’s hand.

Lindomiel loosed an incoherent, but plainly joyful exclamation.

Legolas grasped his father’s hand between both his and was relieved beyond measure to feel him grasp his back, if only very weakly. “Thank Elbereth!” he whispered.

Everyone in the room echoed that, laughing and crying at once.

*~*~*

Crouched in the shadows behind a stack of empty sacks, crates and split barrels, he was contemplating his next move—as if he had one—and listening to not one, but now two guards talking. Knowing one was out there when he crept into this room was bad enough. When the outer door opened and someone else arrived—Legolas’s guard, no less—he was nearly sick with worry over how he would ever get this done.

At first, it seemed possible. He waited for Galuauth to bring Manadhien out of the Hall and followed him to find out where they would imprison her. That was obviously the first step. He had no trouble figuring that out. And when Galuauth took her to the rooms where the trade goods were kept, that was too lucky to be true! He immediately knew the next step and the last step: use the lift between the kitchen and this storage area to sneak in without the guard seeing him and then use the lift again to get Manadhien out.

The problem was the middle step: getting past Galuauth, who he never thought would actually hang around after locking Manadhien up, and then unlocking that door. When Manadhien spotted him on the Green and he saw she expected him to help her, he knew that last part—unlocking whatever door they put her behind—would be the hardest. He had hoped maybe whoever locked her up would just put her in a store room and hang the keys back in the kitchen. That was where keys were kept, as far as he knew. He had always seen rings and rings of keys hanging there and getting into the kitchen, especially at night, was never terribly difficult. But stupid Galuauth had stayed! And kept the keys on his belt! There was no hope for that. None at all. Fear caused tears to blind him. He had to think of something or Manadhien would…. Oh, think of anything but that!

The outer door squeaked open again. He held his breath. Not another guard! The dim light in the room receded and then faded entirely, leaving the storage area black as a starless night. The door closed and the lock clicked. He dared to peek out from his hiding place. The guards were gone! They had taken the torch and left! He listened until their footsteps and voices faded to nothing in the outside corridor. Then he dashed across the open room to the door of Manadhien’s cell.

“Are you there?” he called, speaking into the keyhole. “I have come.”

As he spoke, he patted about the walls next to the door, trying to find the hook where they would hang keys while packing trade goods. If he was really lucky, Galuauth hung the keys there before he left.

“It is about time,” Manadhien snapped. “You are going to get me out of here. Preferably, tonight.”

“Ow!” his hand hit upon the hook. He felt around it. Nothing. He shook his head and then immediately stopped himself, grateful she could not see that through the keyhole. “How?” he asked, fear tinging his voice. “Galuauth took the keys to this door with him. And he had them on his belt, last I saw them. I think he is going to keep them.”

“No, he is not,” Manadhien replied, speaking as if to a stupid child.

He made a face. She could not see him after all.

“Legolas ordered Galuauth to bring the keys to him, which is lucky. You certainly know Legolas well enough to easily get close enough to him to steal them. I know you do.”

He loosed a puff of air and slumped against the door. “I know him. But how can I steal keys from him? Where will he put them? What if he keeps them with him, in his pocket? I cannot get them.” He strained to think of some other way he could placate her, but he was too frightened. Not a single idea came to him.

“Steal them. Copy them. Put a blade to his throat and force him to turn them over to you. Find someone who can pick this lock. I do not care what you do. Just find a way to open this door. Or you will not be the only one to regret it.”

He drew a shuddering breath. “I will find a way. But I had better leave now, while I still can, before the guards come back and I am caught. I promise I will return as soon as I can get the keys.”

“Do not take too long,” Manadhien threatened.

He ran for the lift, stuffed himself into its small compartment and pulled the rope to hoist himself up. The faster he got away from her the better. How was he supposed to get those keys!

*~*~*

talan/telain —flet/flets, the tree houses woodelves live in
Adar—father
Naneth/nana—mother/mum
elleth/ellyth—female elf/elves