Thranduil approached the bed where his son lay, Gimli barely a step behind him. The Elvenking felt his heart lurch at the sight. His son was pitifully thin and ashen. His eyes moved restlessly beneath their closed lids and his lips twitched as if he was speaking to someone in his dreams. Legolas was curled up in the center of the bed, cheek resting in the palm of his hand. As an elfling, that had been his preferred sleeping position but he had outgrown it long before his majority. Seeing it now caused a resurgence of worry in his father. The prince’s hair, still wet from the washing Elladan had given it, fanned over the pillow. The fingers of Legolas’ other hand twitched, seemingly plucking an imaginary bow-string. His face twisted in phantom pain and Thranduil decided that he had seen enough.

Careful not to wake his son, Thranduil settled onto the right side of the bed. Moving with the practiced ease of a father, he gently lifted Legolas so that the younger elf rested in his arms, head pillowed on his chest. Legolas immediately shifted, turning his face into Thranduil’s chest, the fingers of his left hand curling around a fold of his father’s robes, exactly as he had when sleeping in his father’s arms as a young elfling. Thranduil rested his cheek on the top of Legolas’ head for a moment, and then dropped a kiss onto his son’s brow. He spoke softly in Sindarin, noting with relief that Legolas relaxed at the familiar touch and voice. Gimli eased up onto the bed on Legolas’ left side, resting a hand lightly on the elf’s shoulder. The prince gave a sigh and his body relaxed even further.

“He was already too thin,” Thranduil commented unhappily, brushing the still damp strands of his son’s hair back from his face. “He is naught but skin and bones now.”

“Aye,” Gimli agreed softly. “I’d like to take my axe to the lot that did this.” He scowled fiercely, flexing the fingers of the hand not resting on Legolas’ shoulder.

“And I, my sword. It would be a kinder fate than they deserve.” The Elvenking regarded the dwarf closely. Gimli nodded his concurrence with Thranduil’s statement, clearly indulging himself in thoughts of wreaking vengeance on the prince’s erstwhile captors. The king nodded as well, turning his attention back to his son.

Elessar eyed the quaking child seated opposite him. He had very much doubted that she had had anything to do with Legolas’ abduction, but he had needed to question her to ally any fears his counselors and guard might have. He had asked Elladan and Elrohir to be present as he did so, mainly due to the fact that the child seemed to be in awe of them. The twins sat on either side of him, attention trained on the girl.

“Serai,” he intoned softly, “You are not in any trouble. Quite the contrary, you have our deepest gratitude for your bravery in helping our dear friend. I know from speaking with you just now that you have no involvement in this save as Legolas’ rescuer. Whatever else occurs, you will be protected. Do you understand?” The child swallowed hard and nodded. Elrohir, unable to stand seeing her tremble any longer, moved to her side and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. She flinched away, but not before his healer’s senses focused more sharply on her. He moved back, raising his hands where she could see them.

“Child, no one in this room would ever dream of harming you in any way, nor will we allow anyone else to do so. You have no need to fear us.” He held out his hand to her, waiting patiently until she hesitantly took it and gracing her with a bright smile when she did. “You are a very brave girl, Serai. I would be most proud to count you as a friend.” She smiled tremulously at that. He turned to his twin and the king. “Estel, she has been badly mistreated. I think it should be looked into; she cannot have consented to such, judging from her reactions.” He spoke in Sindarin, carefully controlling the tone of his voice so he did not frighten the girl again. “She is also with child, likely as a result of the abuse,” he added, his tone still soft but his eyes hard as flint with suppressed anger.

A muttered curse passed Elladan’s lips, and Elessar privately seconded it. It sickened him as much as it did his elven foster brothers to think of anyone using a child like this in such a manner, even though they well knew that it went on.

“Child though she seems to us, she is of the age where many maidens are wed,” he replied to the younger twin. “I do agree with you, this does need to be looked into. Such abuse cannot be ignored. Do you think she might talk to you, or perhaps Arwen or Eowyn?”

“I would doubt that she would be willing to speak to a male, but Arwen would be a good choice. It is a pity that Mistress Gamgee is not here at present. I wager that she would have the child spilling the entire story within minutes,” the younger twin stated, with a slight smile. The twins had developed a deep affection and respect for Samwise Gamgee’s spouse.

“I would agree with that also.” The king stated, switching back to the Common Tongue for Serai’s benefit. “The captain told me he thought that you were looking for a place to live when you found Legolas, is this correct?” The girl flushed and nodded. “Well, for now you will be an honored guest here, at least until we can find you a place of your own where you will be comfortable and secure. “

“King Thranduil will wish to be party to that, I am sure,” Elladan commented. “He has a history of showing his gratitude for actions done to Legolas’ benefit.” Serai shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“Please, Majesty, my lords, that’s not why I did it! I just didn‘t want him to die and I thought maybe I could repay your kindness to me by helping him, that‘s all!” The girl’s outburst clearly surprised the king and his foster brothers. Elrohir squeezed her hand a bit and spoke in soothing tones.

“We know that, Serai. Be at peace, please. We know you did not do this for selfish reasons, as does King Thranduil. What you must understand is that you not only saved Legolas’ life, but his father’s as well. He would have died of grief had he lost his son.” He waited a moment to let that sink in and then continued, “That, and the fact that we all love Legolas so is why we insist on making much of you. As for King Thranduil, he has had little experience with humans, outside of the ones he trades with near his realm. His way is the only way he knows.”

“He frightens you, does he not?” Elladan asked, his sharp eyes missing not a nuance of her reactions. She nodded and the twins exchanged a look. “He would never harm you, little one. He is merely stern and has seen far too much of the evil in this world. We have known him all our lives, so we know of what we speak.”

“Aye, child, he would not harm a single hair on your head, especially now that he owes you so great a debt,” Elrohir added his own comments to his twin’s. “Now, I think it best to get you settled into your temporary quarters and see that you are fed. Legolas is not the only one who has not had regular meals of late, I believe.” He stood, raising her from her seat as if she was a grand lady and tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. Elladan stepped to her other side, took her free hand and tucked it into his elbow. Bidding farewell to the king, they set out for the rooms set aside for the human girl.

Legolas floated in a gray sea, far from pain, far from the hunger and thirst that had become unbearable. Idly, he wondered how long it would take to reach Mandos’ Halls and if his Naneth would be waiting for him when he got there. He had deep regrets, but there was nothing he could do about them now. He would miss Estel, Gimli, the twins, Arwen, and the hobbits fiercely. They would mourn him for a long time, as he would have done for them had they passed first.

The sharpest regret was that the last words he had spoken to his father had been in anger. He would be able to make amends for that before long, however. He knew that Thranduil would not be long among the living once proof of his own death had been provided. He did not wish to be the cause of his father’s passing. That alone was enough to make him fight the shadows closing in on him.

Slowly, painfully, he swam up through the layers of cloying, gray mist. After awhile, he began to hear a voice. He could not make out the words, but the timbre of the voice was hauntingly familiar. He moved closer to the rich baritone, trying to make out the words being spoken. Another voice joined the first, this one laced with a pleasant burr and a bit deeper that the other. The smooth as silk baritone sounded again, and Legolas found himself drawn towards it. He did not fight the pull, sensing that it was his salvation.

The closer he got, the more he began to feel. His weakened condition had played havoc with the control he normally had over his body, thus he had been achingly cold as well as starved and sore. The cold was gone now, replaced by pleasant warmth. The thirst was gone as well; his mouth was no longer as dry as the foot of MT Doom.

Slowly, he began to become aware of other things. There was soft velvet under his cheek, and the scent of pine, oak, and sandalwood in his nostrils. There was something very familiar about that scent and the feel of the fabric under his cheek, hearkening back to his earliest memories…….

He had awakened; startled from the deep sleep of the very young by something unknown that frightened him terribly. He looked for the warm, soft presence that always came to him when he woke, but it was nowhere to be found. He began to sob, all sense of security gone. Where was the soft one with the beautiful voice and the silky, bright hair that had been there since his awareness had begun? Where was Naneth?

Someone had come then and picked him up, but it was not the one he wanted and he began to wail in earnest. Suddenly, a baritone voice sounded very close to him and strong hands took him from the unfamiliar one. He was placed on a muscular shoulder covered in soft velvet. The scent of the trees in the forest where he lived wafted from the one holding him and he relaxed. No scary things could hurt him now, Ada was holding him. Snuffling, he burrowed his face into Ada’s neck and drifted back into slumber…….

Ada? Why was his father there? Where was he?

Legolas managed, with great effort, to open his eyes. Green velvet folds clutched in his hand and the end of a blond braid gradually came into focus. He drew a shuddering breath and became aware of a hand resting on his shoulder. The chest his cheek was resting on shifted and a hand lightly stroked his hair. Legolas tried to shift to see the face of the one holding him, just to be certain that it was his father and not a trick of his badly abused senses, but he was too weak to move. Gently, the one holding him turned him so that he could see. A ghost of a smile formed on his lips as he beheld his father smiling down at him, the shine of tears in his ancient eyes.

“Ada,” he rasped his voice rough with disuse. Thranduil’s smile widened and he drew Legolas into a fierce hug.

“Ion-nin,” he breathed into Legolas’ hair.

The hand on his shoulder tightened and Legolas tried to look over his shoulder. Sensing his intent, Thranduil obligingly released him from the hug and turned him so that he could see the hand’s owner. His faint smile returned.

“Gimli,” he said in the rough whisper that was all he could manage. The dwarf grinned hugely, all pretense of gruffness gone in spite of the Elvenking’s presence.

“Bless you, lad! We thought we’d lost you for good this time,” the dwarf rumbled, his eyes as damp as Thranduil’s. Legolas’ hand flopped on the blanket covering him, trying to grasp Gimli’s arm and failing. Gimli immediately caught his flailing hand up in an iron grasp.

Legolas sighed deeply, relaxing in his father’s embrace and smiling at both his father and his brother-in-all-but-blood. The cold, hunger, and pain were over, the gray mist gone. He was exactly where he belonged now and here he would stay.

To Be Continued……………