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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

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 64: Tiriathach? [Will You Look?] Part Two

The late afternoon sunlight dappled the faces of the two running elves as they sped with pumping legs and gasping lungs under the first wide-reaching boughs of the trees. One behind the other they raced, determination and dread spurring them forward into the welcome cover of the unknown forest. Unknown from personal experience, yet renowned throughout all the elven realms: Lothlorien, the Golden Wood, Dwimordeen, Laurelindorien, Mellyrn Taur, known by all these names and more, the haven of the Galadhrim received them.

A strange pair they were and indeed, so small a company rarely braved the unguarded lands between the scattered safety of elven enclaves in the darkening days since the demise of the Watchful Peace. The leader of the two slowed, raising his hand to signal his companion likewise, and they halted just inside the tree line. The second bent over, hands upon knees, and huffed noisily to recapture enough breath to replace the expended energy of the forced flight across the open plains.

He was young, more than adolescent yet mature only according to the counting of years, with lithe and slender limbs and a crown of bark-brown curling hair and eyes to match. His features and height proclaimed him Nandorin in ancestry and his garments, rich and well tailored, declared a high rank in the Woodland Realm of Thranduil. He turned his eyes, questioning and trusting, to his guide and protector.

That elf was strange to behold and his appearance verily defied definition or assignment as kin to any of the known clans of elven races. He looked a throwback to some primitive time before the reckoning of days, before the Vala Oromë came first upon the Quendi in the twilight of Cuiviénen.

Golden was his thick mane of twisted locks hanging down below his waist, ornamented with a single bold feather shed from the wings of a great eagle. The tendrils framed a face with features fair, wise eyes of clear and shining heaven's blue, and mouth set firm and resolute. He stood a mite shorter than the younger elf while of similarly slight and wiry-muscled build.

His dress was crude and brief, with leggings of leather and scarcely more save a vest-like covering of some animal hide tied shut with a leather lace. He was well armed. A small but sturdy bow he held within his fist and upon his back a quiver was secured, now only half filled with arrows brightly fletched in startling red feathers and marked with elven runes of power. A long hunting knife fell from a belt woven of thin plaits of leather to lie flat against his right thigh, proclaiming his preferred hand.

His feet were unadorned with shoes or boots and upon the left a pale discoloration showed where a fine band of some sort once had been, winding like a loop around his middle toe, criss-crossing over his arch, and doubling around the ankle. Feral and dangerous, he stood waiting for his charge to regain his strength before continuing into the perilous wood.

"What now?" the younger asked when at last he could draw air for more than laboured breathing. "Are we safe? Will they follow us even into Lorien?"

The other smiled reassuringly at the worried countenance before him.

"Nay, we lost them as soon as we crossed the river, but I wanted to be sure not to give them any chance to catch us even if they had picked up our trail again. I think they decided we were not worth the trouble of further chase.

"There will be a guard upon the borders here; we shall not need to go much further before we are met. I spotted a scout as we came under the trees; within the hour they will find us," he paused and considered the young elf carefully.

The youth had held up admirably considering they had been chased from the fringes of Dol Guldur all the way to the Anduin by a persistent band of Orcs. "How long has it been since last you had news of your father's brother, Lindalcon?" he asked, attempting to divert the younelf'elf's mind from the harrowing pursuit.

"At the commemoration, he was there," he frowned and thought back, "so, only twenty years ago. I am sure he will welcome me!" came the reply. "And you as well, of course!" was belatedly added, causing the other to smile wryly.

"I think not!" was all the wild one said and began to move forward again, looking up into the magnificent trees as he did.

Never had he been in the Golden Wood, although tales and songs proclaiming its glory and majesty were known to him. The sight of the holy trees gave him a sense of awe, and he wondered if he dared leap up into the branches that stretched down so invitingly. He listened, gauging the response of the woods, and deemed it familiar, friendly and welcoming.

"Come!" he beckoned with no attempt to conceal his excitement as he slipped his bow over his shoulder and pulled himself up into the nearest Mallorn. Lindalcon followed less easily and he had to wait for the young one to reach his level. "I will race you to the canopy!" the wild elf sang out gleefully and took off, leaping with joyous abandon from branch to branch as his companion struggled to keep up.

"That is truly unfair, Legolas; you are hardly ever out of the trees and I am never hardly in them!" he fussed, trying in vain to meet the challenge.

Legolas was peering down at him with amusement from a very slender top-reaching stem, smiling as only trees could make him smile. Then he straightened up and stood looking out over the surrounding wood, leaning forward with a rapt expression of wonder upon his features, sunlight bathing him in the warm orange tinted streaks of the setting rays.

Lindalcon stopped and stared, catching his breath at the sight as his skin rippled in a shivering tingle of admiration and trepidation both. Seen like this, Legolas was beautiful but fey, a Tawarwaith true.

"You muee hee how the light dances across the treetops!" he exclaimed to Lindalcon, without looking back, thus missing the expression of proud appreciation the younger elf's eyes revealed. Lindalcon at last made it up to the canopy and peered in the direction of the fading light, to the West, and thought of his father.

He wanted so much for his father to be with him. Would that the horrible Battle had never begun, that the King had not learned of the demise of Smaug. He even wished for his father to never have joined the guard at all. Had Valtamar only chosen to become a metalworker or a scribe, or even a life of politics then he would not have met Andamaitë. He would not have perished at the hands of a despicable goblin attempting to spare her life. And Lindalcon would not be alone, fleeing his home to beg a place in his uncle's household in Lorien, guided by the very elf judged the cause of his father's death. He looked over to find Legolas studying him.

"The elves here will welcome you, Lindalcon; do not worry," he said quietly and Lindalcon nodded, trying to smile. "However, they will not welcome me. When they arrive, I will face the guard and explain your presence. You must stay silent until it is clear you have rights of kinship to be here."

"Why? Surely this is a place of refuge and no harm will come from within the woods! The elves here would not accost you, Legolas, would they?" the younger elf stared with worried eyes at his brother, for every word Legolas spoke was veneered in wary caution rather than optimism.

"Nay, the Galadhrim are reputed to be fair-minded and noble! Yet I am not allowed to enter Lothlorien while the Judgement stands," the wild elf reassured, though he was not quite so convinced of this in his own mind. He had the idea that the Galadhrim would promptly eject him from Lorien with no uncertainty regarding their desire that he not return.

"What I say you should be prepared to support, but do not attempt to defend me," he continued. "You may wish to refuse the title and position your loss has gifted you, but this will not be the time to do so. As a prince of the Greenwood you will be treated with courtesy and respect, regardless of the nature of your escort here," he paused until Lindalcon acknowledged this advice with a short nod.

"They will guide you to an outpost while word is passed our our people to vouchsafe your entrance into Caras Galadon. Once that is done, you will most likely be met by your kinfolk. If you are granted to meet with the Lord and Lady of the Wood, they may hear your petitions. However, they have no true authority over the Greenwood or Thranduil." He hesitated again.

"Are you truly prepared to stay here and be parted from your mother, your brother and sister? For Meril's position is much elevated and she would never remove Taurant in any case. They will nollowllow you here," he finally finished.

Lindalcon thought on these words carefully relieved that Legolas wanted only to ensure the strength of his convictions rather than cast aspersions on his abandonment of their younger siblings. It was not an easy or lightly made decision, and he did have much regret. He did not know when or if he would ever see his younger brother and sister again.

{Or Legolas!}

His mother had been overcome with rage at his choice and he felt the same regarding hers. It still made him burn to think of her blatant betrayal of his father and their marriage bond. Equally virulent was his disgust over the reason she chose to name for her perfidy and the low manner in which she had attempted to turn him against Legolas. Their parting had been bitter and hasty on Lindalcon's part.

"I am not certain that my place is to be found in the Greenwood," Lindalcon finally replied. "My father's kin will be good enough folk for me. I am not interested in the kind of advancement my mother sought to give me, as it came to be upon the loss of my own father.

"I have no wish to be a prince any longer. It was a false title and though I am glad not to be 'Lindalcon the Usurper', I pity my little brother to have to grow up under the tutelage of Thranduil!" he stated with vehemence and then, catching sight of Legolas' disconcerted expression, coloured slightly.

"Lindalcon, I understand your feelings about this, yet Thranduil dotes on Taurant and Gwilith. Our brother will not grow up in the discordant household known to me," he corrected softly. "Even so, I do feel sorrow for those little ones; they will miss you terribly, as will I!"

Lindalcon sighed and had to remove his gaze from Legolas, for he could see that this was true. cou could discern clearly the unspoken plea in the archer's eyes and his heart became burdened with guilt. He knew his decision was selfish, yet he could not bear to be near the royal family, not now.

"Perhaps I will not remain always here in the Golden Wood," he murmured low as his head drooped to match the words' pitch. The pressure of a firm hand gripping his forearm drew his eyes back to the glinting shine in the Tawarwaith's.

"I will hold you to that, 'perhaps' notwithstanding! Send word and I will come guard you home again, gwador dithen [little brother]!"

"Man canel 'tithen', Limlas? Im dond nef le! [Whom are you calling 'little', Fish-Leaf? I am tall next to you!]"

But the smiles these words raised to both their countenances were slow and hesitant, forced over the real expressions of sad and reluctant parting.

The sun had set leaving behind only a soft velvety pink going to dusky grey and Legolas started back down the tree. Lindalcon followed more slowly and was surprised to find his guide already on the ground before he was half way there. He saw a number of elves emerge from the trees to the right and left. Soon, silent and sombre grey-clad archers, their bows drawn and trained upon Legolas, surrounded them.

"Sîdh! Men mellyn!" [Peace! We are friends!] Legolas called, spreading out his hands palms upward before him.

The elves gave no indication that these words were acceptable as they gazed in cautious curiosity at the two strangers. At last one of the elves came forward and reached out to Legolas, quickly pulling the bow from his back and the knife from his belt. Legolas made no move to prevent this and Lindalcon watched with concern. They were at these archers' mercy.

With the interlopers disarmed, the guards relaxed their stance and lowered their bows, but the arrows remained knocked. The elf that had confiscated Legolas' weapons spoke, facing him and ignoring Lindalcon.

"What is your business here in Lorien? Where have you come from and why has no message of your approach preceded you? Indeed, are you not hecilo, banned from this realm?" he demanded formally. Legolas remained in his non-threatening posture but stood firm.

"My business here is completed, for I am merely the guide and protection for Lindalcon, Prince of the Greenwood, Thranduil's realm to the North. He has come to seek asylum and citizenship in Lorien, to abide with his father's people in Caras Galadon. There was not time for messages to be sent to warn of his arrival, for events prevented it. I am, as you have said, forbidden to shelter here and seek no entry," he answered calmly.

At these words the elves turned their eyes upon Lindalcon and scrutinised him carefully, seeing the fine make of his garments and the distinctive style common to the Greenwood folk. He stood proudly and returned their stares but remained silent, until he caught Legolas' eye and remembered their earlier conversation.

"Yes, I have come to see my father's brother who resides here with his family. I wish to stay with my kin in Lorien," he confirmed. "I did not know I needed permission to come before setting out on my journey, and Legolas agreed to safeguard me here seeing that I lacked another escort. We were attacked by orcs and scarcely did I survive!"

Lindalcon was deliberately misleading the Lorien elves. While he and Legolas had indeed encountered orcs, and he himself had previously been wounded in a skirmish with orcs, he hoped his story implied more. If they assumed he had been travelling with his personal guard, had been waylaid and forced to enlist the aid of the outcast elf to continue his journey, then his hopes would be met. The Lorien elf seemed to accept his explanation without question.

"Forgive us our inhospitable welcome, Prince Lindalcon," he said as he bowed. "I am Haldir, March-warden of Lorien. Mae govannen! Your unusual companion worried me: I thought perhaps you were in some peril for your wellbeing in that one's presence," he continued, placing a hand on the youth's shoulder and guiding him away from Legolas and outside the circle of archers. These immediately raised their bows and trained them on the outcast again.

Lindalcon looked over his shoulder to see what was happening, but Legolas gave a slight shake of his head and Lindalcon returned his attention to Haldir.

"Will you be able to take a message to my uncle so that he may come for me?" he asked. Haldir nodded.

"My brother Orophin and I will escort youthe the nearest outpost. Others will carry word of your arrival to your people." He motioned to some of the elves and four approached. After inquiring the name of the youth's kin, Haldir sent them forth with brief instructions and they melted into the forest.

"The accommodations among the outposts may not be luxurious according to your usual comforts, but it is safe and there you may await your kinsman's response. Have you no belongings with you, young Prince?" he was saying.

"Oh! In my haste to escape I was forced to leave everything behind. I was fortunate to get away at all," Lindalcon said.

"And how did you run into that unfortunate soul?" The Lorien elf made a motion with his head towards the captive.

"He is the one who aided me during the orc attack. If not for his assistance, I would have died. He further agreed to guide me here when I refused to return to Thranduil's stronghold. What will you do with him?" Lindalcon could not help but ask though Legolas had told him to stay out of it.
he the truth was so close to Haldir's offhand remark that Lindalcon was struck by the concurrence and briefly wondered if the warrior had knowledge of the events. Lindalcon did owe Legolas his life, for he had been running away from his mother and her new life when he ran almost right into an orc band that was chasing Legolas. Apparently, the outcast had been hunting them when things got out of hand somehow and he ended up the one pursued. A poisoned arrow had grazed Lindalcon's leg as they fled through treetrees, and he would surely have died of the wound if Legolas had not been able to treat it and counter the poison quickly.

It was a strange situation between them. Legolas owed Lindalcon for his father's life, and now Lindalcon was indebted to Legolas for his own. For his part, Lindalcon fthe the deeds balanced one another and did not want the fallen archer to suffer for helping him reach Lorien safely.

"No need to be concerned; I have left orders for him to be taken back to the river and his weapons returned to him there," Haldir answered as his brother Orophin joined him. Together they ushered the youth down the path and away from the circle of archers.

Lindalcon looked back once more, but the broad shoulders of the Galadhrim blocked Legolas from hiew. ew.

An elf tall, imposing, solid of frame and muscle, easily out weighing the Wood Elf before him by at least three stones, stepped closer to inspect Legolas. He knew the impact of his presence and sought to intimidate his captive a bit as punishment for daring to pollute the beauty of the Golden Wood with his tainted person. He walked around Legolas, gazing up and down at his rugged appearance with disdain and distaste in his posture and his eyes.

"You are overly bold, Edledhron [exiled one], to attempt trespass here! This is a place of peace and harmony and such as you have no right even to contemplate its existence much less try crossing its borders!" he said.

"I am not yet within the Naith of Lorien and so have made no trespass." Legolas returned his stare coldly. "Return my weapons and allow me to go, since my presence is so offensive to you."

"Your presence is offensive to all elves, Hecilo!"

This retort came from within the ranks of archers and Legolas involuntarily startled, for this was a voice he knew from other circumstances, equally dangerous. His eyes searched the faces and pinpointed the source when a deriding laugh shot back towards him, for his instinctive reaction had not gone unnoticed.

Among the guards of Lothlorien were mixed five of the ten Greenwood warriors from his days in the storeroom under Ailinyéro's torments. After theircharcharge from Thranduil's guard, these perverted soldiers had drifted away from the stronghold, yet none knew what had become of them. Now here they were, armed and standing shoulder to shoulder alongside the respectable and honourable wardens of the Golden Wood!

Legolas did not like the turn this excursion was taking.

"There has been no kinslaying for millennia until your deeds! You disgrace all elf-kind!" one of them added.

"How is it you are free to inflict your existence on the rest of us? Why do you not take yourself to Mordor, where such as you belong?" another taunted.

"Orc!" the fourth spat.

Legolas remained silent. If these elves thought that such insults could be hurtful, after the torments and humiliations he had already endured from them, they were short of memory.

{Here is where they have been hiding their shameful past! I wonder what lies they told to the Galadhrim to gain the privilege of service to the Lady?}

He almost expected to see Ailinyéro emerge from the trees, to hear the metallic chime of heavy chains.

{So be it, the Dagger is still in my quiver.}

Yet, how to retrieve it? He did not generally use the knife as a weapon, but carried it as a tool for his arrow-craft, loose and deep at the bottom of one the compartments. He could not easily reach over his shoulder to draw it forth, certainly not without rousing the suspicions of these wary archers.

As slowly as he could, Legolas raised his hand to unbuckle the harness, making sure they could all see his movements and his empty hands. Everyone stiffened and riveted their eyes upon his actions; bows creaking as strings dragged further back in anticipation of some trick.

With a snake-ish slithering sound the container slipped from his back and landed in the leaves behind his heels and almost as one the gathered guards exhaled and eased back. He kept his features impassive; no need to alert them to the fact that he had just placed his last weapon where he could more readily get to it, should the situation deteriorate.

The tall elfed hed his stoic demeanour and was disappointed. This was not the response he desired. He wanted to make the outcast cower in humiliation before the righteousness of Lorien. He frowned and bent to snatch up the leather strap of the quiver's binding, hefting the necessary implement to test its weight, for he could not fathom why the disgraced elf had chosen to remove it. As he peered inside and spied the various objects stuffed among the compartments his ears caught the curse of rage from the wild elf.

"You have no right!" came the Tawarwaith's low growl.

The tall guard felt the nape of his neck tingle as all the hairs back there crawled forward and he raised his gaze to see the anger his snooping had provoked. Yet he sneered in satisfied triumph, his eyes had caught the glint of metal within the quiver and he fished the dagger out. He held it up for all to see, grinning hugely at the look of impotent outrage upon their captive's face. It was almost as good as mortified debasement would have been.

"I think perhaps you are too foul for the Galadhrim to handle. Your own should see to your disposal from our lands," he said with loathing and motioned for the five Woodland refugees to step forward as he cast the quiver aside, enjoying the strained sigh that escaped the wild elf at this pronouncement.

"Wait! Haldir's instructions were specific. We are to escort him to the river and leave him there. I will not let my brother's words be changed!" This directive came from one among the Lorien elves and everyone halted as the speaker disengaged from the group.

He was not much taller than the Tawarwaith and as lightly built, with the bearing of an archer, and one who spent his days in the Mellyrn's limbs. His locks shown like finely burnished mithril and his eyes were grey yet clear as the waters of a mountain spring and held no malice in them. He trained his steady gaze upon Legolas and regarded him with candid curiosity.

The Lorien warden could not help but be amazed, for he at once felt kinship with this banished outlaw, seeing in Legolas' eyes the imprint of Yavanna's blessings. He took in the rugged clothes and strangely twisted locks. Reaching out, he meant only to take some of the strands between his fingers.

While Legolas felt no threat from this warrior, he was not about to allow such a liberty, for he was yet under the pall of the remembered chastisement. They could say what they might, but they had no right to lay hands on him; his fate was not for them to judge.

As the hand swept up towards his face, Legolas caught it in an iron tight grip around the wrist. Surprised, the Lady's guardsman exclaimed and tried to yank his hand free even as Legolas flung it away. The combined forces caused the Lorien archer to stumble and fall back.

That was enough of an excfor for the five renegades from Thranduil's guard. Two of them immediately dropped their bows and launched themselves at Legolas, engulfing naught but air and the leafy ground as he leaped aside. The other three shouted angrily as they pounced in turn. One Legolas tripped and sent staggering headlong into the boll of a Mallorn with a dull thunk, but the other two waited until his attention was thus engaged. Together they dived for him, their combined weight knocking the wild elf easily to the ground, and inflicted a rain of punches and knee-jabs.

By that time the other three had recovered and joined the melee, effectively burying the outcast in a writhing mound of fists and feet, teeth andows.ows. Legolas fought back and landed several solid hits of his own until one pinned his arms and another secured his ankles. Shouts in the background to stop were muffled and disregarded in the sickening noise of knuckles pounding flesh and the cries and grunts of the outnumbered elf.

The Mirkwood elves soon had Legolas subdued and called for rope to bind him but the Lorien elves were shocked by their behaviour and roughly hauled the immigrants off the battered exile and restrained them. As rapidly as it had begun the beating ended.

Legolas lay in a heap where he had collapsed, struggling to draw breath against the stabbing pain in his ribs where one boot too many had found an easy target. The jagged blossom of agony every inhalation triggered cautioned that some were probably broken.

"What should we do with him?" asked one of the Lorien elves.

"I say just leave him there, perhaps some orcs will sniff him out and dispose of him for us," replied one of the Mirkwood renegades, and he spat but was too far away to land this further insult on the fallen archer.

"Silence! You are not one of us!" this from the tall and haughty elf.

"Oh, truly? Have we not drawn arms with you and defended these borders by your sides? There is the cause of this dissent!" countered another Wood Elf, sporting a darkly purple bruise around his right eye, as he pointed to Legolas.

"Mayhap that is right; never have we fought among ourselves before this day," commented one of the Galadhrim.

"Aye, his presence is an abomination!" encouraged another of Thranduil's former guards. "He is the perfect orc bait! We can drag him a little further under the trees and take positions above. It will be easy picking them off while they are distracted with him."

At this comment the elf that had sought to touch the wild elf's locks stepped forward with a disgusted sound and addressed them.

"Enough! This is not right! You have set upon an unarmed elf who has done no harm to any of us, or to the Golden Wood. He never struck anyone until you launched your attack. The Shadow reaches far when the elves of Lorien do injury to a traveller that came hither on an errand of mercy to one of our kin," the elf stood boldly before them, arms crossed against his chest. "I will carry out Haldir's orders, let those who would oppose me answer to him!" he challenged and waited.

"You are too soft-hearted, Rumil," one of the miscreants interjected, but the remainder of the archers paid him no attention as they considered Rumil's words. One by one they sided with him, revolted to recall the brutality they had witnessed, and none supported the immigrant's admonishment. At last the tall, hefty one advanced to address Rumil.

"You speak with reason when mine has all but vanished. I believe you righright; this kinslayer has brought the taint of the Shadow here to make us forget ourselves so easily," he said. A few murmured affirmations rose from among the group.

Rumil sighed.

"Then it is best for me to see him safely out of Lorien, so that none of you fall back into unreasonable behaviour," he snapped. He disliked it that his comrade could not simply admit his wrong. Rumilt itt it cowardly to assign blame for one's own failings to the growing threat from the east. To his mind, this was the most telling testimony to the long reach of the evil of Mordor.

"So be it!" spoke the tall one. "I will tell your brothers of your decision. Do you require anything?" Rumil shook his head.

"Just leave his weapons; I will not turn him out to face the Orcs unarmed," he said and the others complied, placing the bow, quiver, dagger, and long knife against the boll of a tree. This done, they retreated back into the woods to resume their patrols hustling the Mirkwood elves along with them, glad to leave the responsibility for the captive's doom to Rumil.

Legolas watched warily as the Lorien elf slowly approached him. Rumil knelt and removed his flask of water from its place at his side and offered it to the injured elf, carefully lifting the tangled mane out of the Tawarwaith's eyes as he did so.

"Thank you, but I do not thirst," Legolas managed to say as he tried to curl over the aching ribs and wrapped an arm protectively around himself.

Rumil nodded and sat down next to him. He cautiously reached out to smooth his fingers over the golden tresses again.

"You are Legolas," he said and a note of regret touched his words, for he understood that in other circumstances they could become good friends. "I am called Rumil, brother of Haldir. Forgive me, I should have asked first and none of this would have transpired."

"Nay, they would have found some other reason. I am grateful your people stopped them, for they are known to me and I wish not to imagine what they might have attempted next!"

"Ai! I have never felt at ease among them, and Haldir does not let them serve together, keeping them separated in different watches."

"Then why does he permit their service at all, if he trusts them not?"

"We are fewer now than in days of old," a listless shrug accompanied this apology, "yet evil multiplies and the Shadow grows. Their bows have proved true, even if their characters be false!"

A companionable silence fell between them as Legolas rested and Rumil continued to run his hand soothingly through the wild elf's hair. At last the Tawarwaith sighed and moved as though to right himself, but it was a mistake and he hissed as the pain that had diminished flared sharply. He returned to the relative comfort of stillness.

"You must let me have a look; you could have a broken or cracked rib," gently Rumil took hold of the Wood Elf's arm and drew it away. The garment was simple and it opened easily, having been torn somewhat during the scuffle, and he pulled it back to expose the injuries. With careful fingers he pressed the purpling skin over the ribs and Legolas sucked in his breath, wincing sharply as the fractured edges scraped each other.

"Sorry," said Rumil. "That must be bound up, but I have nothing with me. And this must hurt a bit," he said with concern, gingerly drifting his touch over a knot swollen atop the scalp as the archer flinched. Rumil did not dare attempt to inspect the bleeding wound where teeth had bitten through the very tip of Legolas' left ear. Without waiting for a reply, Rumil stood and reached down to help Legolas stand also.

The feral elf could not suppress a strangled cry as he tried to straighten and fiery jabs of agony needled through his chest. He found his right ankle reluctant to bear him and gripped tightly onto Rumil's shoulder, gratified by the support.

Pausing only to gather up the ost'sst's belongings, Rumil escorted him slowly through the trees around the outskirts of the woods, heading for a sentry post he knew would be unmanned.

Legolas did not question where he was being taken for he trusted the Lorien elf, having heard truth and compassion in his voice when he spoke. At last they stopped at the foot of a mighty Mallorn and Legolas gazed at his benefactor questionin

"I have no wish to send you away injured and vulnerablee exe explained. "Here you may stay until you heal; you will not be disturbed. I will tend the injuries and find you something to eat and drink. Wait," he said and climbed swiftly up to a high flet where a rope lay coiled neatly on the platform. He cast it down and then returned to the forest floor as well. With deft fingers he formed a loop and knotted it securely thus creating a foothold for Legolas, aelpeelped him step into it.

"Hold on tightly and I will pull you up. Can you use your injured foot to help manoeuvre against the tree should the rope start to sway?" he asked and Legolas nodded, grasping the smooth cord in his hands. Rumil returned to the platform and easily hoisted the lighter elf up to join him.

Once there he again lent his support to hiest est and guided him to the simple bed at the far end of the small talan. Legolas gratefully allowed himself to be laid down and sighed, protectively covering his middlein ain as he closed his eyes. He could hear the Lorien archer moving around and the sound of water splashing into a basin.

Rumil came back to the bedside and set down the supplies he had gathered along with the vessel.

Legolas opened his eyes and watched as Rumil shook the contents of a small, waxy-leafed packet into the water, at once filling the room with a rich and wholesome aroma that seemed reminiscent of a cool breeze after a spring rainstorm. He looked up and Rumil smiled encouragingly.

"Close your eyes again," he spoke mildly and his touch against the wild elf's bruised face was cautious yet soothing, and the infused water eased the throbbing everywhere it touched his body.

Legolas relaxed and found his breathing was falling into synchrony with the Lorien elf's. Distantly he seemed to hear Rumil speaking but in a strange way the words and voice were like music and matched the tempo of his steady heart. Legolas let himself slip into reverie.

In a shimmering imitation of waves shoaling upon the shores of Eldamar, the water fanned in ripples from edge to edge within the basin and the image dissolved into nothing more than starlight's reflections magnified in the gleam of the polished mithril bowl.

Forming an intractable frown upon her finely molded features, Galadriel turned from the Mirror and sat down heavilon ton the stone bench in the quiet glade beside the banks of the silver stream, resting her elbows on her knees and cupping her chin within her elegant fingers. Thus Celeborn found her long past dawn.

No news of comfort had the Mirror granted, and she was unwilling to carry this information to Elrohir, patiently waiting for her return. As sometimes occurred, the gift of Seeing was incomplete, and she had no way of understanding if this event would actually to to pass, or what it could mean if it did. Her uneasiness she could not explain nor comprehend the significance of the dread the vision had imposed upon her soul.

If Rumil had taken the care of the wild elf in hand, then why did every ounce of experience, instinct, and foresight warn of impending peril should Legolas come to Lorien too soon?

Tbc
Reviews!

Aff.net:

ladyantari: Thank you! I think it is unfortunate Legolas did not have the chance to meet the twins as he was growing up; they would have watched out for him. Yes, the story has passed its midpoint, finally!

louise_oblique: What a faithful reviewer you are, and I appreciate it so very much! Hopefully Aff.net will stay up and running now; I like posting here!

crystal: Thanks! I will try to stay on schedule now, a new chapter every week! You are right about Elrond and Legolas, the relationship cannot turn out good after all this has happened. But the two will meet again before the story is done. I have a sequel or two in mind, though, so perhaps in one of those Elrond will claim the wild elf for a longer time period.

kirameki: Thanks! Your ideas are so good! But I could not bear to have Elrohir see that! I think he would just be heartbroken, first to see his father do such a thing and then to know how great would be Legolas' despair. He will be very angry indeed when he does find out, and his reaction might just reach Elrond finally and wake him up. Arwen is about to get the biggest disappointment of her life, obviously she is a daddy's girl.

I hope you are not disappointed in this chapter! I needed a break from the high emotion of the Council. The idea about the keepsake, though, this I have already found a way to initiate! When that posts, you will find a note thanking you at the very top.

Whether or not Thranduil will agree to come to Lorien, that will soon be seen, and as for Celeborn, he will probably not meet Legolas, for he will no longer be in the stronghold by the time the Lorien delegation arrives.

Ash: Thank you! I have given Legolas plenty of friends and family now who will try their best to keep him from fading, even though he has not met the twins yet. Little by little, they will all strengthen Legolas' and help him grow beyond his terrible childhood, foallyally he has not become emotionally mature just yet.

MorierBlackleaf: Thanks! I, too, was disappointed in the movie version of Arwen. She is a very poor substitute for Glorfindel of Gondolin! I think she is indeed stubborn and tends to be unforgiving, at least on the inside. That is what Elrond is like in this story: all noble and wise on the surface and harbouring all this anger and resentment underneath!

Waters Reflection: Oh thank you for reviewing, I appreciate it so much! I agree with you concerning Elrond, he should not have done this to Legolas and does not deserve another chance. As for Thranduil, I tend to agree with you there also! He has acted like a spoiled elfling letting others direct his actions instead of taking responsibility for his life and his faults. I will see to it that he does learn, conclusively, that Legolas is his. And he is going to get a very unpleasant shock in addition to this that will wound him very deeply, so he will get paid back!

As far as posting, I try to update at all three at the same time, but usually aff.net and ff.net go up first. That is because the feud site is not my own; a friend has graciously granted me free space on her website. She updates as quickly as she can, but she does have many obligations beyond my humble little story! If you are a member of yahoo groups lxf or slashlords, the story is always current there as well,the the files sections. There are some other places where there are bits and pieces of the story up, and I plan to try get get those taken down. I know it is frustrating for folks to find only part of a story!
ff.net

ivorybrowneyes: You are so kind, thank you! I think having Elrohir on his side will be very good for Legolas. And I have become so enamoured of the idea of Glorfindel and Legolas that I am craving to write such a story now! But there are already so many good ones out there, I will have to come up with some angle to work with!

Chloe Amethyst: Thank you so much! Ah yes, they have no idea how ugly this is going to become. Arwen does indeed reflect her father's attitudes toward the Wood Elves and you are right, she cannot bear the thought of Elrond being unfaithful to her mother. It is interesting, she and Legolas share a certain blindness regarding their mothers' part in the relationships they agreed to enjoin! I am not saying Celebrian is like Ningloriel, of course, for she did not abandon her children when they needed her most as Ningloriel left Legolas to suffer the Judgement alone.

Well, I am afraid this chapter might be a disappointment, for I did not use it to reveal Elrond's crimes but to give a glimpse ahead instead. This is all written from Galadriel's perspective, for she has not seen Legolas or Lindalcon before. Thank you also for the compliments on Galadriel and Celeborn!

Now you are so right about Aragorn. This is still the year TA 2158, and according to Tolkien, he became betrothed to Arwen in TA 2180. So there will be time for them to sort this out. I think you are right, this will cause a rift between them due to Arwen's natural desire to defend her father and condemn Legolas as the 'bad seed'. As far as anyone in Imladris knows, Estel is out wandering in the wilds with the Rangers of the north. They do not even know he has met up with Mithrandir. No one expects Aragorn to be in Mirkwood or to have any knowledge of what has happened. I am fairly certain Elrond has not considered the possibility that Aragorn will ever have to know of it, for he cannot foresee any instance where the Ranger will ever meet the archer! Elrond will be quite displeased with Mithrandir for dragging his foster son into thiss.
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