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Chapter List
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Feud

www.feud.shadowess.com

By erobey, robey61@yahoo.com

Beta'd by Sarah AK. Remaining errors are mine alone

Disclaimer: The recognised characters and settings used in this fiction were created by JRR Tolkien. The words, other characters, and ideas here surrounding them belong to erobey alone. No infringement is intended or monies earned through this work.

Chapter 61: Govadel od Erebor [Council of Erebor] Part 3

There now remained but one of the King's charges and Iarwain sighed with a smile of secret satisfaction as he contemplated the results thus far. His people were happy, their Tawarwaith was proved true, and Thranduil was in a most diminished position at the moment. He planned to keep matters in that status if at all possible, and the only one that might be able to prevent this was Legolas himself. If the wild elf did some foolishly noble thing, publicly forgiving Thranduil as he had Talagan, then popular opinion was likely to sway once more to favour the irate ruler.

The ancient eldar surveyed the son of Oropher and the forest champion.

{How different they are! Oropher would have aciatciated this Legolas. Stubborn, but loyal. Devoted to a fault, self-sacrificing and sometimes rash.} he thought, for he had never doubted Ningloriel's assertions of Legolas' paternity. Iarwain wondered if Thranduil had ever noticed how similar in character the outcast was to the family patriarch. {Unlikely.} It occurred to the Sylvan elder that it might have been difficult for Thranduil to have such an elf around him, with a spirit so like his father's housed in a form that resplendently mirrored Ningloriel.

Thranduil sat glaring into the knot of elves comprising the Tawarwaith and his cobbled together family, utterly dumbfounded. His denial and disbelief were apparent in the slight glaze of disorientation clouding his murky eyes, the slumping posture of his stately form slouched within the seat's support, the complete stillness of his face and frame.

He had never considered the charge of attempted kin-slaying would be dismissed. With the fact accomplished, however, he found he was not truly surprised, given the undeniable impact of the outcast's vehement declaration of familial love for the infant prince and his sister. The benediction of the Tawarwaith's song echoed round his imagination's rendering of the disgraced archer cradling Taurant in the crook of his arm while with the other hand he flipped the pages of a picture book.

{It is a long road from errors in battle to destroying innocent life wilfully.} That the outcast had not traversed that path was obvious and it seemed ridiculous now to have thought otherwise. It astounded him to realise that just moments ago he had been certain of edledhron's [the exile's] guilt. {Meril's fear is genuine yet so is this elf's protective concern. 'To warn of danger without being its cause.'} Perhaps, given the history, his mate's assumption of ful ful intent was understandable. {But inaccurate.}

Slowly the Sinda's vision sharpened and his sight tracked across the features of the wild elf. The muscles around Thranduil's eyes contracted, drawing lines of concentration around the refined curves of brows and lids.

As Iarwain watched, the outcast stirred, for he must have felt the intensity of that inspection, and bravely met the King's regard with a countenance free of gloating or reprisal. Though wary and defiant, the guarded gaze of the Tawarwaitre are a tinge of compassion, a suggestion that, with even the smallest encouragement from the King, the forest champion would issue one of those soul-stopping proclamations and pardon the Sinda Lord for ever accusing him so basely.

Iarwain moved quickly to forestall just that eventuality while the fallen prince lingered in the euphoric release of tension following the acquittal and before the bewildered King deciphered the Tawarwaith's message.

"It pleases my heart to know this is the truth, for I have come to regard the works of Tirno as valuable to our lands," the ancient Elder said and obtained everyone's attention. "Yet one charge remains and must be addressed!

"Considering the presence of foreigners within our very borders, I am eager to understand the means by which that was accomplished and the purpose for such an incursion. The validity of the first charge none may deny as the evidence is here in our midst todaHis His eyes drifted to his fellow councillor as these words left his lips.

"Two witnesses have come forth regarding the trespass; are there any others who would be heard?" called out the Councillor of Record, and a shuffling in the crowd commenced.

"Here now, aye!" a muffled voice called from somewhere outside and an uncomfortable shifting and scuffling succeeded the yell as the speaker tried to get past. The Wood Elves grumbled and complained to be so rudely shoved when they had no place to go.

"Who speaks?" commanded Iarwain, craning his neck to see the cause of the disturbance. Indeed, everyone gathered before the dais turned to follow his gaze and learn the identity of the new witness.

"Me!" came the disgruntled reply. A minute more of squeezing and twisting amid indignant and scandalised eldar heralded the advance of a rumpled, red-faced Man dressed in the practical manner of a forester, for it was the messenger from the woodsmen's village.

"What do you want here?" demanded the King. "These proceedings are closed to all but the citizens of the Realm. If there is aught that impacts your folk, our scribes will inform you."

"He is a citizen!" retorted Legolas hotly and again his friends had need to restrain him. While he could find no will to defend his own honour, for those under his patronage he would face down any unjust word.

"I thank you, atheling," smiled the human with a warm glance to his forest prince. The bold mortal then bowed low before the Wood Elves' King. "My Lord, I want to add the names of my village's people, and those of our neighbouring settlements also, to that list of folk who deem it a privilege to be called Tirno's friends."

There were many exclamations of pleased surprise at this gesture and Thranduil really could not find anything with which to counter the goodwill of the Man's sentiments. He glared coldly at the mortal's open devotion to the disgraced prince.

{Not so complete has the banishment been! Exiled from elven realms, the outcast makes a duchy among the Followers' settlements.}

"Very well, human, your choice for your people shall be marked! And now if we may proceed to the charge…" Iarwain replied and was peremptorily cut off by Legolas' advance to the mortal, a huge smile gracing his fair features, his hand out thrust in the customary greeting among Men.

"I am so glad you are here," spoke Legolas.

The worthy woodsman grasped and pumped the elf's slender fingers twice before pulling hard and grappling the Tawarwaith in a suffocating bear hug, laughing heartily. They separated and the Man's face split into a delighted grin as he appraised the wild elf critically.

"Well then, Tirno, you look a mite better than when last I set sights on you! Our lasses would be well pleased, I warrant that," he said, and his mild tease was enjoyed by the elves as their champion could not hide the embarrassment the comment wrought.

"I thank you for bringing my letter to Fearfaron," the Tawarwaith continued, deciding not to encourage the human's humour. "How fares Cemendur? How much have Chloe and Amethyst grown? Is the Elder well? And what news of Llanadh and Sarah? I must beg forgiveness for leaving as I did, is wrs wrong of me!"

He would have continued in this vein for some time but the mortal overwhelmed his exuberant babbling with jovial laughter as he shook his head.

"Nay, atheling, none of that talk! The Elder understood I am certain, and Fearfaron explained the situation when I got here. Be at peace over Cemendur; he was bawling to have his belly filled when I left and keeps his aunt up nights with his ach'ach's demands rather than his hurts, I reckon.

"Now how can the wee ones be grown when you've not been gone but a two-month? We're humans, not weeds, young tree lord! When you return, the gals will still be too little to fight over who gets to be your bride."

More soft laughter filled the room at this gentle joking and the Tawarwaith's pink response. Not a single countenance was bereft of a cheery grin.

Save Thranduil, who watched with cautiously curious interest. Despite his displeasure at having forgotten about this mortal in the excitement over his son's birth, he wanted to understand the depth of this Man's dedication to the outcast. At the disastrous Council of the Thrashing Trees, the King had been regaled with tales of the forest champion's deeds on behalf of the mortal squatters within his borders, and he pondered whether the disgraced archer was equipping thwoodwoodsmen with weapons and training them in warrior's ways.

It was not that he felt such forces could ever pose a threat to his rule, but that such troops might prove as useful to him as they would be to the Tawarwaith.

{A single outcast elf against hundreds of Orcs must fall eventually either to death or a fate far worse. One First Born directing an army of mortals, doomed to die anyway, might just crack the impervious walls of Dol Guldur.} Thranduil decided it was time to remind the woodsman who was the ruler in the Greenwood, and rose to his feet.

"These are formal proceedings, human, but we would be grateful to hear your words if they bear upon the truth. We must learn the source and extent of the plot against our lands."

"Aye, aye, that we must! And if one so humble may speak up here I was also a witness to the foreign elves' actions," he said, eyeing Erestor with distaste. "These two Noldor dwelt in our village a time and though they helped in some ways, I have since found out there was treachery afoot."

"Is that so?" queried Thranduil silkily. "Please enlighten us to all that transpired. Tell us, how came those elves among your people? Is it not true that this elf here, the accused, brought them into your settlement?" demanded Thranduil.

As simply as that the relaxed mood returned to its sombre, serious disposition.

"Accused? Our Tirno? Our atheling?" the human feigned shocked disbelief though of course he had heard of the impending charges the same as everyone else within the city. He shook his head gravely and reached out to wrap an arm over the archer's shoulders and draw him close.

"Nay, Lord, that is a gross error," he said earnestly and met the Woodland King's eye with his honest, steady stare.

"Well said!" seconded Aragorn vehemently and sent a smile filled with approbation to the simple forester. As the only two mortals present, he could not help feeling a sense of kinship with the Man, though in truth the woodsman was more distant in kind from Isildur's heir than ever Aragorn was from the eldar.

The messenger acknowledged this with a respectful nod.

"These are our ways, Man, and you should not be so bold in challenging customs among the First Born!" countered Thranduil, ignoring Aragorn. "Do you fear to offer your testimony now? Is what you know so injurious to your disgraced benefactor? And if you would claim citizenship among these borders, then your 'atheling' as you term him, sleeps above in his mother's arms. Our Realm does have an heir, but this elf is not he."

"It is not the same thing, citizenship within the Woodland Realm and citizenship within Tawar!" snapped Legolas.

Fearfaron could not suppress a satisfied smile to see the frustrated look upon Thranduil's features. The King was about to receive an education on the duality of the Greenwood's culture, a dip into the spiritual substructure to their society he found so unsavoury. And his tutor was not one the mighty Sinda noble was likely to appreciate.

Lindalcon shared the joke with the carpenter; the two trading amused gazes as the younger elf moved to stand with his brother at the human's side. Indeed, it was safe to say few in the room's centre misunderstood Legolas' views of the forest's governing except Thranduil. Iarwain looked positively delighted while the wizards watched with glittering eyes. Murmuring amid the population told their instinctive comprehension of what their champion meant, and agreement for his place among them.

The Imladrians only felt concern for their friend should he raise the King's ire farther, however, for both knew what must be divulged soon.

"Nay, I do not worry to explain it to you, Lord," the Man said with benevolent kindness, diverting the King's hostile eyes from the outcast. "It is as Tirno declares. Here within the borders of the Northern Forest is the Kingdom of the Wood Elves thisthis mountain is the fortress and symbol of the great strength of the One gifted to His Eldest Children.

"Yon babe, your prince, is heir to this Realm! We may be simple mortals, yet we understand this well enough and will pay due respect to him, when he comes into his own, even as we regard you now and bowed to Oropher before."

"Aye, but on the opposite side of the Central Mountains, there the strength of our warriors' arms no longer reaches." Legolas took up the lesson. "Yet beyond that boundary the forest still exists, and there is the Lordship of Tawar besieged. Once we were allies and defended Tawar. Now we can scarcely keep this small corner of Greenwood free of the Darkness!" The wild elf's impassioned words tugged upon the hearts of the Sylvan's for many remembered well the days of which their champion spoke.

Aragorn and Erestor, however, were completely confused and looked to Mithrandir and Aiwendil, then to Legolas, and last at Thranduil. Who were these confederates? Was he referring to Lothlorien or the Men of Dale? At least they had the satisfaction of observing similar bewilderment upon the King's countenance.

"Hold, of what alliance do you speak, Tirno?" he said, and the intake of breaths throughout the assembly upon hearing this use of the familiar term for the wild elf was almost but not quite undetectable. Thranduil frowned at his mistake and was about to correct himself when he sensed a definite upwelling of approval from among the throng. He hesitated.

"I do not speak of any treaty or union among armies, as you must be thinking," Legolas took advantaf thf the momentary lapse and continued patiently. "Tawar is…" he found this a difficult concept to put in words, so much was it a part of his soul. He could no more explain how his heart kept beating, yet knew well that it did so.

"The Greenwood, its trees, its creatures, its elves and its Men, all of this is Tawar. The air of it, that is Manwë's suspiration, and the water flowing across the lands like the lifeblood pounding throughout my body, Ulmo's gift, all are Tawar.

"And long were the days when none of these elements could be seen to conflict or work at cross purposes. It has not been so for numerous years, even prior to my birth. The Wood Elves have ceased to be Tawar's voice, though still we dwell here, abiding in Greenwood.

"Without a voice, how can the strength of the forest's feä be made known to Arda? When the trees are silenced, the Valar hear not Tawar's song, whether it be of hope and joy or sorrow and pleading! Thus does the Darkness enter in and force strange and terrible anthems from the harmony of the Music." Legolas himself became quiet, for he could see by the confused and somewhat incredulous expression on the King's features that he was not making this clear at all.

"Are you saying the Wood Elves are responsible for the Shadow's advance over the Greenwood?" demanded Thranduil angrily. "If so you are wrong to suggest that! Nay, more than erroneous, such words are verily treasonous. Without my warriors, the Wraiths would be residing here in this mountain fortress and not hiding in their pestilential tower."

"Nay, that is no betrayal," corrected Mithrandir. "Legolas does not speak against you but against the circumstances of our times. You wish to know the truth concerning what is happening in your Realm, then listen, Thranduil, and mayhap we will learn what motivates the forest champion's activities."

"In some ways, I do assign responsibility to elf-kind," Legolas continued carefully. "We did not bring the Darkness here, but neither have we been able to eradicate it! When first the eldar came under the eaves, was not a sort of pact made then between the Children of the Stars and the Greenwood? The forest protects us and gives us life, were we not agreeing to do the same in turn? The Sylvan people have broken this covenand and abandoned the rest of Tawar!

"We are sundered from the bulk of the woods, no longer sng ong our soldiers to aid the woodsmen. We do not patrol the Dwarven Road and the Orcs multiply in the Central Mountains, while the spiders' venom grows more virulent and resists our healer's remedies!

"How long has it been since any travelled here from among Beorn's folk or from Rohan? Less and less do merchants from Lake Town brave the pathways we created through the trees to reach our city. Of journeys to Lorien, these grow ever rarer and even messengers seldom reach their destination intact.

"Indeed, are you aware that the elf-made byways are being twisted and rearranged to lead the unsuspecting directly into the lairs of the foul Orcs? You could not know, for no longer do the warriors safeguard the way!"

"Yet what would you have me do?" shouted the King. "We are fewer in numbers than before the Last Alliance and cannot allow the might of our warriors to be stretched out too thinly! Our first responsibility must be to safeguard our own, our families and our homes!"

"Are these others not our own, also? Thus is accomplished the work of the Shadow, when the First Born forget their stewardship over these lands and wraw raw the protection we alone can give!" Legolas shouted back.

"Here now, Tirno, that is a bit too harsh," it was the woodsman, interrupting the elves to smother thewingwing heat of their interchange. "None of that was where I was heading with my little explanation to the King. I only wanted him to see that he rules here while within the wider reaches of Tawar another may shepherd. I but wished to make plain that whatever elf may be heir to this Realm, you will always be our atheling!"

In soundless wonder Legolas stared at the Man, for he had not foreseen this at all, nor did he consider himself their leader.

"Oh." He said awkwardly and chanced a rather befuddled glance at Fearfaron, who was grinning hugely at his son's discomfort over this avowal of confidence and trust.

"So, the outcast would still claim his former title after all," seethed Thranduil. "That I do name treason!"

"If that is traitorous then so is this very Council," fumed Iarwain. "May I remind you, Lord Thranduil, that it is Kingship which is new here. When Oropher came among us with his army, he might have tried to subdue our people with force, yet he did not even though confrontations did arise and blood was shed."

"This history lesson I need not!" barked Thranduil, red of face and so tense his furled fists looked as though the very bones of his hands must split through the skin. In these woods and among its foolish people, Thranduil had spilled some of that blood himself.

"It was agreed the Council would remain in authority over the issues of the spirit, and these include our part in the song of our forest," the Elder continued as though he did not notice the affect his remarks produced, "while your father would grant us the benefit of his military might and diplomatic acumen. We knew even in those days the Tawarwaith would arise among us, and instead of posing a threat to your dominion he would strengthen it, whatever title he might bear, even if it were an opprobrious one. If you have lamed your own charger, blame not the worthy stallion."

"Aye, he is our Tawarwaith," the Man summed up with a nod of his head and the Sylvan elves murmured their concurrence.

The King paced back and forth on the dais before the assembly, visibly disturbed and beyond anger, for the mention of the early days amid the Greenwood wrenched unpleasant memories to the fore of his thoughts.

The events played out before his eyes as though it was but yesterday that the trek from Beleriand was completed. His party had been stopped as they came under the trees for their group was separated from the main body of the Sinda host. An elf had given birth on the journey and had need of a slower pace. The youngest son of Oropher and a small contingent of warriors provided the family's escort and protection. The Wood Elves were armed and requested Thranduil give answer for their trespass.

It had just been a misunderstanding. He had spoken too hastily, too harshly, and ordered the archers to put down their weapons, believing his father had already encountered these Sylvans and arranged safe passage. Thranduil had become angry when they refused, insisting his party halt until they could get news to their elders. As he urged his horse to continue forward in defiance of their demands, one of the archers released a warning shot. It embedded in the trunk of a tree behind his head, but to his warriors it must have seemed he was doomed. One of his spearmen loosed his long lance into the leaves and brought down the Wood Elf, dead.

Of course this spawned retaliatory arrow fire and the Sinda soldier fell instantly. The whole situation spun out of control. The Sindar learned the skill of the Sylvan archers and the advantage of the branches, for in seconds Thranduil had lost three worthy fighters, including a cousin by blood. The son of Oropher took an arrow through his shoulder and skewered the leg of the elf that dared wound him, using the spear yanked from the body of the first casualty to do it.

He had never thought to see an elf kill another elf. He had never imagined he would try to do so himself and the event sickened him, emotionally and physically.

The same effect could be seen to take hold of the Sylvan eldar, for they also ceased warring and simply disappeared among the leaves, not even taking the body of their dead comrade away, an unholy keening dirge flowing from their souls as they left.

Thranduil did not know then that the surviving Sylvan warriors had taken their own lives. It was long centuries before this information was learned, and by that time his hatred for the Wood Elves had solidified in his embittered soul. They were kin-slayers, that which he most despised. Even worse, they had shown him that this capability lay dormant within himself.

And buried deep in a shielded fortress in his inner heart was the knowledge that the Sindar had made the first kill, and that he had caused this.

"Then, it will please you to understand that our King has pledged his assistance to the Tawarwaith in his undertakings to rid the Greenwood of the Shadow's grasp!" Iarwain filled in the growing void in order to prevent Thranduil from exploding, for the restless Sinda certainly looked on the verge of some terrible outburst.

Hearing this, Thranduil turned his chilling disgust upon the eldest councillor. Plainly enough he could see this elf was attempting to goad him into losing control and further disgracing himself. {He seeks to make me appear incompetent. Is he trying to capture his old place as the forest's leader? I should have thought to find the conspiracy involved Iarwain the friend of Oromë!}

He could comprehend that the Elder had no need to seek the help of Elrond in this scheme. So blinded was Thranduil by his wrath towards the half-elf that any action against the Realm would rapidly be tied to the Elf Lord in some way. The King began to perceive how easy to predict his actions were, how simple it was to manipulate hisughtughts. Unbidden, an image of Meril flooded his brain, but he swept it away impatiently.

{What then of Elrond, for he is mixed in some how.}

Still Iarwain would not be able to engineer the events at Erebor singly. Affairs of staere ere handled exclusively by the Sindar. There were no Sylvan captains, only warriors, archers, spear bearers and swordsmen. The Council did not even have a say in whether or no their Realm would go to war.

{Iarwain is an opportunist! This rift is his chance to weaken the throne and wrest control of the Woodlands from Oropher's line.}

While this reasoning did not help explain the Peredhel's activities or the connection to Erebor, it did underscore Thranduil's initial impression of his discarded heir. The outcast was merely a tool in skilful hands, a chisel employed by a devious artist to sculpt a new fate for the Woodland elves.

{Nay, not a tool but a weapon designed for one target alone. In my disgust for Ningloriel's progeny I am even more predictable and easily riled to rage.} Recognising this fuelled the King to indignant wrath and he decided that a weapon could be wielded by whatever hand took it up.

"So I did pronounce!" he stated loudly and abruptly stepped down from the dais. During his silent brooding the room had begun humming with excited, subdued arguing over the mood of the King, and his sudden action made everyone hush as all eyes riveted upon the Sinda Lord.

In two long strides he was standing right in front of Legolas, staring hard into the surprised and edgy countenance of the wild elf. Thranduil stood a head taller and his more substantial frame obscured the accused from thst ost of the gathered elves, wizards, and Men in the centre of the chamber. He was so close he could see the flecks of gold within the blue irises, which shrank away to narrow rims of navy blue as the pupils dilated in response to this threat.

His actions had been too swift for any to intervene. As he had moved forward the nervous woodsman had retreated to Aragorn's side and only Lindalcon remained by Legolas to lend support. The younger elf was nearly trembling as he gripped tightly to the wild elf's arm and Thranduil watched the outcast attempt to calm his sworn brother with an answering squeeze to his hand.

"How can I fulfil that oath when you place yourself with outlanders and give them aid? What happened, Tawarwaith? How came you under the influence of those Noldor? What made you trust them?" The King's quietly uttered questions were such a startling contrast to the menace presented by his physical proximity that it was far more effective than shouted threats would have been.

Legolas opened his mouth and shut it; stunned and unable at first to make any thoughts come forward in a coherent pattern that could actually be expressed. He swallowed and blinked under the stern and searching gaze upon him, exasperated that Thranduil could still reduce him to internal quaking like some callow elfling. He shifted his head to try and find Fearfaron's eyes.

"Speak," demanded the King, but his voice was calm, for he had noted that the fallen archer sought out the carpenter and not Iarwain.

"I will answer!" replied Erestor, very afraid that Thranduil was prepared to do some physical harm to Legolas. He stepped up and reached for the wild prince, pulling him back from under the Sinda Lord's very breath while his hand found its place on the hilt of his sword.

At the same time, Legolas pushed Lindalcon away towards Fearfaron, and Valtamar's son did not need more encouragement to remove himself from the confrontation. He found a spot next to Aiwendil, and the two exchanged their worry for their friend in grim glances.

"Lies and deceit, these are the methods we used to gain his trust. But understand this, Legolas was never an accomplice to our plots."

"Erestor of Imladris, why should I hear you or believe any words you say?" answered Thranduil, but he had not removed his eyes from Legolas and willed the fallen archer to meet his stare. "If he is not your cohort, what have you made this journey to salvage?" Thranduil could hear Legolas' disturbed breathing in the sound pau pause that followed these words. {Does he fear the Noldo will reply with a lover's declaration?}

"Friendship," responded Erestor with sombre remorse and sorrow in his tones.

Then the Tawarwaith's gaze did flicker away in pained dismay to dart over the Noldo's face before finding the floor and then returning to bravely stare back at the Woodland ruler. With the briefest lift of his left brow Thranduil acknowledged both the strength that required and the distress the wild elf tried, but failed, to disguise as anger.

"I do not think you have shown such regard to any citizen of these lands," remarked the King sardonically. "Nor have you explained why you are here, why you practised this deceit."

"I know something of it!" called out the woodsman.

"So you have said," interjected Iarwain. "Please tell us what occurred." He did nike ike this change in Thranduil's behaviour. The Council was his domain.

"Yes, human, give us your evidence!" commanded the King loudly but never turned from the forest champion.

"Our village was attacked by the Dark Lord in a curse of heaving ground and falling trees!" the woodsman's words tumbled out in fluid rush of anxious syllables. "Many were injured and Tirno brought the Noldor in, for one was a healer. And the healer went about by the name Erestor, which I heard you call this one here, while he was known to us as Berenaur. So Tirno called them and Radagast too, and we thought nothing about it.

"We were grateful for the help, until it was made clear those two had harmed our atheling somehow," added the woodsman with another disparaging look at the advisor. "Aiwendil and the Elder had everyone running round keeping sure Tirno was not ever alone with either of them."

"Indeed!" Thranduil at last relinquished Legolas from his compelling glare and turned a most unpleasant scowl upon the Brown wizard. "You certainly were aware of who they were yet you did nothing. You kept their secret! Why did you not send word to me of this invasive element in my Realm?"

"I am not your subject," warned the Istar. "Even so, had your lands been under any threat from the Imladrians, I would have done. My concern was for Legolas and the suffering humans. Admittedly, I failed my friend. Long will I regret it! Yet despite their subterfuge and his own reduced state, Elrond could not make Legolas speak against his own.

"Many were the charges the Noldo Lord laid upon your name, Thranduil, yet Tirno would not allow a single one to pass unchallenged. They assumed those identities, realising he would have acted differently were it clear he beheld the Lord of Imladris and his right hand. Their efforts were for nought; no ally did they win."

"Used!" said Thran to to Legolas, the single word packed with scornful pity. "By this I take it to mean you would not have bedded them had you comprehended that one was, according to your understanding, your own father."

A spasm ran over the wild elf's frame and involuntarily he shook his head as if to displace the ugly image from its well-seated niche in his reality.

"Enough!" thundered Mithrandir, advancing to confront the King. Thranduil ignored him and held the Tawarwaith's gaze.

"You aided them; they exploited you. Would you have been more ready to become Elrond's spy had he approached you honestly? If he had not sought to possess your body, might he have been able to gain your heart?"

He could see that those words hurt, for the fallen warrior physically winced and grew as pale as the mist rising over the river at dawn.

But as Thranduil watched Legolas shed the clinging calumny of his defilement and the dynamic force of the Forest Spirit gained dominance in his soul. His countenance took on an expression the King found unsettling in its familiarity. With a jaw tightening surge of obstinate temerity the Tawarwaith drew his lips into a firmly compressed line and directed a fiery glance upon the wizard that halted him in mid-step. Simultaneously everything in the whole forest stopped. Thranduil found that even he was holding his breath. The blue rage returned to the wild elf's eyes theythey refocused on the Wood Elves' Lord.

"I would never betray Tawar regardless of who holds my heart, and no enemy of my Greenwood could ever do so!" his statement was clear and none hearing it would doubt the verity of those words.

A small smile upended the corners of Thranduil's lips as he regained his respiration and nodded slightly. Likewise, the assembly relaxed and a low murmur rippled through the room.

"Nasan [It is so]," he said quietly and returned to his place upon the dais.

"I withdraw the charge of treason from the Tawarwaith. Let our history show that even under severe duress the outcast held true. The fault lies elsewhere," with these words Thranduil let his icy glare travel from the face of Erestor to that of the eldest Elder, there to remain.

"So noted!" intoned the Councillor of Record, and thus was the final charge voided.

Tbc
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