AN: Set immediately after "My Brother's Keeper." Legolas is equivalent of 14 in human years. Written to celebrate the publication of my YA fantasy, Deep as a Tomb (Loose Leaves Press), though only the paperback is out right now.  Read, review, fanfic it, whatever! Enjoy, I hope. -- daw

Chapter 2. From Court to Courting

As Ithilden strode toward his father's throne, he saw why Legolas had laughed at the idea of Thranduil being in a good mood. Thranduil stood on the dais, scowling down at Galivion, whose hands were knotted together behind his back.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," Galivion said, sounding respectful but not particularly contrite, "but you know how important our trade with Laketown is."

Ithilden admired the Elf's nerve. Galivion's fearlessness was one of the reasons he was vital to Thranduil, and Thranduil knew it.

"You may go," Thranduil said stiffly.

Galivion bowed and then marched to the door, nodding to Ithilden as he passed.

When Ithilden began to drop to one knee, Thranduil blew out his breath and flicked his hand to stop him, but Ithilden was here as his king's Troop Commander, not his father's son, so he touched his knee to the floor anyway. "My lord."

Recognizing the signal Ithilden was sending, Thranduil reseated himself, spine straight, and beckoned Ithilden to him. "What now?"

"My lord, two days ago, the Southern Patrol encountered a large band of Orcs. They destroyed most of them, but when the battle was over, they discovered one of their number was missing."

"Who?"

"Gelmir."

Thranduil flinched, as Ithilden had done when he heard the news. They would have grieved for the loss of any warrior, but Gelmir was Eilian's best friend. Ithilden had known him since he was a toddler. Gelmir had one vomited all over Ithilden after eating too many honey cakes at a feast.

"They found no body?" Thranduil smoothed out his face and kept his voice as flat as Ithilden was trying to keep his.

"No, sir."

"No sign of him at all?"

"I worry they may be just seeing what they wished to see, but they thought his tracks might be mixed in with those of the Orcs."

"The Orcs took him?"

"Maybe, though as I say, I hate to hold out false hope. But they have been known to take captives if they wanted a supply of fresh meat at their den." Ithilden drew a breath to force down the queasiness in his stomach. "I had difficulty prying a clear picture of what happened out of the messenger, but it appears that in the heat of the moment half a dozen of the patrol's warriors went after him without orders from Sorion. They had yet to reappear when Sorion sent the messenger."

Thranduil barked a mirthless laugh. "I must say it's hard to tell whom to be angry with."

"Exactly," Ithilden said grimly. Heads would roll but he had not yet decided whose.

"Have you told Gelmir's family?"

"No, sir. I am probably being as foolish as his fellow warriors, but I seem to be hoping they'll find him. I judged it best to wait until the news is certain."

Thranduil looked at him thoughtfully. "It is, of course, your decision, and I trust you completely."

"Thank you, Adar." Ithilden accepted the comfort his father was offering and deliberately thought of other things. He felt a flash of anticipation for the upcoming evening. "I should change before the feast. By your leave?"

Thranduil held up a hand to stop him. "I am sorry, but I have a task for you to do before the feast begins."

"Of course." Ithilden had all evening to ask Alfirin to dance. She would agree, right? Some unfortunate events had occurred on the two occasions they had walked out together, including him ripping her bodice in an attempt to put out the fire in her shawl. But she had called him by name the last time he saw her, though he suspected that had been an accident. Giving himself time to scout out the situation before he approached her was a good idea.

"I just spoke with a Laketown merchant named Camil, and he told me a tale about one of our raft Elves." Thranduil repeated what struck Ithilden as a disturbingly likely story about a raft Elf. "Find out who the Elf was and pay him a visit. Tell him what the mayor wants and scare the truth out of him."

"I believe I can manage that." Ithilden hated to admit it, but scaring people came more naturally to him than courting a maiden. He had always believed he had the more useful skill, but lately he'd had his doubts. "You say you want the truth. Do you think this  Camil lied to you?"

"Maybe. Something about him made me uneasy." Thranduil pressed his lips into a thin line. "Trade is important, but I will not be deceived." He rose, descended from the dais, and walked toward the door with his hand on Ithilden's shoulder. Ithilden assumed his father had more to say, but Thranduil seemed uncharacteristically hesitant.

When they reached the antechamber, Ithilden decided he had been mistaken. "I will see what I can find out. By your leave?"

But Thranduil kept his grip and steered him toward the family quarters. "Dress for the feast before you go. You deserve a chance to dance too."

Ithilden gave a short laugh. "I take it you are tired of waiting for grandchildren?"

Thranduil smiled. "I am, and you know I like Alfirin."

"What I know is that you are resisting the urge to ask me how things stand between us, and I appreciate your discretion."

Thranduil snapped his mouth shut on whatever indiscreet question hovered there. They were parting to go to their own chambers before Thranduil said, "Ithilden, don't tell Eilian about Gelmir yet."

Ithilden dragged his mind back to his job. "The messenger should hold his tongue as a matter of course, and I reminded him to keep quiet, but Eilian was his captain for a long time, and will certainly hear that one of his warriors is home. It may be hard to keep him in the dark."

"I know. Do what you can. He is not yet fully over his shadow sickness."

#

As he knocked on the cottage door, Ithilden pulled himself to his full height and raised his elbows from his side, making himself as big as possible. It had been easy to learn that Arost was the raft Elf who had gone wild in Laketown. For one thing, Arost had broken a leg during his adventure, something Camil had evidently neglected to mention to Thranduil.

The door was opened by Arost's wife, Ilenia. "My lord!" She glanced behind her, keeping the door half closed to block Ithilden's view. "I…This is unexpected."

Ithilden believed that easily enough. "I heard Arost was injured and thought I would pay him a visit."

"Arost is sleeping," Ilenia said.

"Who is it, Ilenia?" Arost called.

"Ah, good. He has awakened," Ithilden said blandly.

She grimaced but stepped aside and opened the door. "Please come in."

Ithilden stepped into the hallway, made much narrower by the shelves and stacks of Laketown goods along one wall. The cottage smelled pleasantly of exotic spices. Ilenia showed him into the sitting room where Arost sat with his splinted leg propped on a stool. His eyes widened at the sight of Ithilden.

"I will make tea." Ilenia escaped to the kitchen.

Ithilden gestured toward a chair. "May I sit?"

"Of course, my lord," Arost said faintly.

Ithilden made himself comfortable, and using a technique he'd learned from his father, he let the silence stretch between them until Arost blurted, "It is kind of you to visit, my lord."

"Not really," Ithilden said. "I heard you broke your leg swinging across the roofs of Laketown."

Arost groaned. "My lord, I don't know what got into me."

"Wine, by Merchant Camil's account."

"Well, yes, but I never drink wine, so I have no idea why I did that day."

"Wood-elves like a cup of wine," Ithilden observed as neutrally as he could.

"I like it too. Too much as a matter of fact, so I vowed not to have it."

"He's telling the truth, my lord." Ilenia entered with a tea tray in time to hear. "Before that trip, he had kept away from it for over three years."

Ithilden took the heavy tray from her and reseated himself as she poured. She set a cup of tea on the table at Arost's elbow, then settled close enough to lay her hand on top of his. "Is the king angry?" she asked.

"Yes, but he has yet to decide how angry and with whom." Ithilden leaned back, relaxing his threat. "Tell me what happened."

"The Men in that alehouse were out of control that day," Arost said. "Everyone was drinking. I saw at least three fistfights, and then when it came to bargaining, Camil was impossible to deal with. He was passing out samples of all these new goods from the East and demanding a fortune for them. And then a Man wagered he could beat me to the gate and back, and I was drunk enough to take the bet." He turned his hand palm up to close it around his wife's fingers. "I am sorry, Ilenia."

"I know," she said. "I understand."

Ithilden did too. He himself was enough of a Wood-elf to enjoy wagering. Combined with the Man's arrogance in challenging an Elf, it would have been hard to resist. "The mayor wants the damages paid, plus he says you are not allowed back into Laketown."

Arost sat bolt upright. "I have to go back! How else can I earn my living? Besides, my raft needs me to do their bargaining. They went without me this last time, and they won't admit it, but I am sure the wine merchant cheated them."

Ithilden ran his hand over his tight braids. The raft Elves worked together with the same crewmates for years on end. Arost's raft probably did need him. "It's possible that if you pay the damages, all will be forgiven. They may not even recognize you if you stay away long enough. Men sometimes have trouble telling us apart."

"The merchants I deal with will know me."

"True, but that could work to your advantage if you have proven trustworthy in the past. You'd only need to keep away from the mayor and the people whose property you damaged." Ithilden shoved away the thought of how furious he'd be if Laketown's mayor encouraged one of his people to flout Thranduil's laws. Men's blindness was not Ithilden's problem.

Arost pursed his lips. "Will the payment go to the alehouse owner?"

"And whoever owned the house with damaged roof," Ithilden said.

"I don't mind paying that," Arost said, "but I resent spending coin that only enriches the mayor."

Ilenia cleared her throat. "If you want to go back, the mayor might need a gift."

Ithilden couldn't suppress the twitch of his mouth. "How cynical of you."

"You mean how accurate," she said.

Ithilden laughed. "'Dare a Wood-elf, but pay a Man'?"

"It's a true saying," she said.

"I will tell the king what you told me," Ithilden said. "Send the coin to him. He will see to it that you aren't cheated." He rose to leave, escorted by a smiling Ilenia. In the hall, he paused at the shelves crammed with goods. "You haven't passed these on to whoever ordered them here?"

"There were no orders ahead of time," Ilenia said, "because these are new wares. Camil sent these, wanting to have them already here once he located buyers. I assume that's why he made the trip today."

Ithilden raised an eyebrow. The arrangement was legal but unusual and quite presumptuous. Maybe this was what Thranduil had sensed that put him on edge.

Ilenia picked up a bit of carved ivory on a short silver chain. "You have been so kind, my lord. Here. Camil gave Arost several of these pretty little carvings. Give this one to your sweetheart."

Did she mean Alfirin? His throat closed at the thought of people gossiping about his awkward courting of the healer's daughter. "I regret to say I have none."

Her hand faltered and the little charm spun so he glimpsed its carving--a flared shape, perhaps a seashell. "That cannot be right, my lord." She took a tentative step closer. "Perhaps you simply need to show off a little more." With gentle fingers, she wove the trinket into one of his braids, then stepped back and smiled at him. "Have a good time at the feast."

"Thank you," he said stiffly and took his leave. The charm brushed his ear as he walked toward the Green. She doubtless meant to be kind, but he was half angry with her for intruding on his private life. As he drew near the feast, he heard music and a buzz of voices from Green, but even more he heard a whisper in his own head saying, You have made a complete fool of yourself over Alfirin and everyone has heard.

He emerged from the trees to find the Green aswirl with dancers. He started around the tables lined with feasters, heading for the head table where his father sat, then jammed to a halt when he glimpsed Legolas's blond head. Why wasn't he in his room? Ithilden contemplated his little brother for a moment, then walked on. Legolas could not possibly have nerve enough to show up on the Green without Thranduil's permission. He passed a Man who had to be Merchant Camil, reaching across a nearby table to show samples of his wares to the elves seated behind them. Beyond Camil, he spotted Gelmir's parents, their heads together, both looking worried. His stomach tightened. Gelmir's mother looked up as Ithilden passed and raised a hand as if to stop him, but she let it fall again when he kept walking.

You sent their son to die, the voice in his head whispered. All happy anticipation buried beneath his guilt, he walked on toward the head table where his father sat.