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Feud	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 27149 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter 65: Amarth o Maltahondo [Fate of Maltahondo]

At the King's retraction of the charge of treason a relieved shout of joy escaped from Erestor and he spun around, instinctively grabbing for Legolas, wrapping both arms around the slender shoulders and squeezing tight as he buried his nose against the Tawarwaith's mane of golden tresses. But the archer stiffened in reaction, his body a rigidly unyielding mass of rejection, and the seneschal quickly let go, muttering an apology as he turned away to spare himself the look of betrayal he imagined the wild elf's eyes must hold for him.

Yet it was not so, for Legowas was only stunned at the impromptu embrace. The Tawarwaith fully appreciated the fact that Erestor had placed himself bodily between the King's intimidation and the Sylvan warrior. By this selfless act the seneschal accomplished much toward mending their damaged friendship.

The Noldo expected Fearfaron to claim his foster child but it was Mithrandir who surged forward and caught up the fallen prince, lifting him bodily off the ground and crushing him against his chest in a breath stealing embrace as his booming laugh of delight echoed from the walls. The rest of Legolas' family was soon crowding around the wizard, each attempting to get a chance to share their pleased congratulations.

Erestor returned to Aragorn's side, sharing a wan smile as they watched the display of affectionately gentle jealousy over who could stand closest to Legolas. Aiwendil's features were transformed with a tremendous grin and he thumped the equally ecstatic woodsman upon the back so soundly the worthy human stumbled and had to grab Aragorn's sleeve to regain his balance.

"Ai! Mithrandir I cannot breathe!" the wild elf's muffled complaint, uttered in liltingly happy tones, reached the crowd and soft chuckles erupted at this.

"Wizard, give me my son!" demanded the carpenter, with only partially feigned annoyance, through his smiling lips.

"Aye, you will stifle him with that thick beard of yours!" addeddalcdalcon and this elicited more grinning laughter from the crowd.

Mithrandir complied, setting Legolas back on his feet and loosening his grip somewhat. He was extremely pleased when the forest champion did not immediately pull away, hugging him back warmly instead and resting his full weight against the Istar's lean and lanky frame as their thoughts merged.

{I am glad you are here; what I need to do now I could not face without my friends beside me.}

{It must be done, Legolas, this burden is not yours to bear and never was.}

They broke apart and Legolas nearly flung himself into Fearfaron's clasp, sighing in contentment as he wriggled about to free an arm with which to ensnare Lindalcon within their circle. They remained this way for several minutes as the spirit hunter swayed, rocking both of the younger elves, as much for his own comfort as theirs. He did not like to think what the consequences may have been had these charges held. Too often was he forced to endure the dread of having his second son forcibly removed from his care forever.

"Ada!" whispered Legolas, engaged with similar thoughts, and pressed his face against the tall elf's shoulder as tears threatened to spill. He had never felt this much love before and it was thoroughly staggering, following so swiftly upon the tension and dread of the King's threats. The carpenter's hand began softly rubbing his back and that was beyond Legolas' limit to contain. The strong emotions overflowed and soon Legolas was weeping unashamedly, clutching onto Fearfaron's tunic with one hand as the other gripped Lindalcon's so tightly the younger elf winced.

"Pan vaer, ion edwen, pan vaer," [All is well, second son, all is well] Fearfaron whispered back, his voice quavering slightly with swallowed tears of his own.

Lindalcon did not even make an attempt to prevent the gush of liquid relief and merely leaned his head against his brother's, adding his fingers' caressing comfort to soothe the archer's shuddering shoulders.

"My Lord King," Aiwendil approached the dais, "esteemed councillors," he turned and nodded to Iarwain, "if it might be permitted, perhaps a short break in the proceedings would be in order?"

"Of course, that is certainly allowable. Let us dismiss for two hours to give Tirno time to adjust before the next phase of the trial," spoke the eldest Elder.

Thranduil's eyes had returned to their scrutiny of the disgraced prince and could not hide the disdain he felt to observe such an open display of weakness. The last time the Sinda had cried had been at his mother's passing; he had attained less than half his majority. The Woodland King rose and walked from the platform, heading for the archway that lead into the throne room, passing so close to the three enmeshed elves that his sword's scabbard scraped against Legolas' calf.

"Indeed? I see no need to drag this out longer than necessary, Iarwain. My wife and newborn son require my presence in these early days of Taurant's infancy. We shall resume in one hour. Carpenter, get your fosterling tree-lord under control by then," he flung the scornful remarks behind him as he left the chamber.

At this declaration the assembly murmured low, a quarrelsome grousing of discontent for the unkind comments and short period of respite the newly acquitted was granted. All within the Chamber of Starlight could see the three elves needed more than this.

"So noted!" called Fêrlass in sullen censure. "The Council will reconvene one hour past Anor's zenith. Let all seek refreshment and thus return equipped to attend the rehearing of the Judgement of Erebor!"

Fearfaron sighed and patted Legolas' shoulder encouragingly. He planned not to waste a moment of the short span and with Lindalcon's help steered the distraught elf toward the hallway where there was an exit into Ningloriel's garden. The wizards, the humans, and Erestor followed, desiring to do whatever they might to show support for their friends. The group emerged into the bright glory of midday and made their way to the little brook, seating themselves on the lush green blades of the thick lawn beside the twinkling stream. They remained silent as Fearfaron coaxed Legolas into stretching out, cradled the wild elf's head in his lap and tenderly wiped away the remaining teardrops that pooled and fled from his lower lashes.

"Are you hungry, Legolas? I will go find us something to eat, if you like," offered Aragorn quietly.

"Nay, I thank you but do not think I could keep anything in my stomach just now," said the archer, presenting the Man a shaky smile.

"Nonetheless, there are several hours yet in the day and much to endure," cautioned Mithrandir. "I suggest some of that delectable concoction sweetened with honey."

"I agree and lembas with it. Erestor, go with Aragorn. I will need more substantial nourishment and a light wine to accompany it," Radagast ordered and the seneschal did not hesitate to get up, still acutely aware of the Maia's displeasure with his actions. Aragorn joined him and the two strode off toward the rear of the terraced grounds where the kitchen gardens led to the entrance to the pantries.

Erestor could not help a backward glance as they left the group, for he was anxious over Legolas' state of mind and wanted very much to make amends for his misdeeds. When he turned back to the Man he found Aragorn's vexed grimace evaluating him with rigorous intensity.

"I know what you are thinking, Aragorn, and you are right! I have never done anything so low before!"

"Aye, that is near enough to it. What explanation can you give? I have not asked you prior to now because of the doom looming over the Wood Elf, but that is passed. An accounting, Erestor!" Aragorn demanded in tightly clipped tempo as they walked.

"I do not know exactly how it started," the seneschal began in bewilderment. "I recall discussing this plan with Elrond, and it all seemed perfectly harmless then. We did not really think about Legolas, to be honest."

"What sort of answer is that?" the Man's voice conveyed his complete disgust. "Tell me then what you did think! I need to understand what prompted my father to indulge in this escapade."

"I rather imagined he would be like his mother," Erestor swallowed down the clammy mucus accumulating in his paradoxically dry mouth. "She was well prepared to handle this kind of game."

"Sauron's shite!" hissed Aragorn as he came to a sudden halt.

At first Erestor quailed, thinking Elrond's foster son would turn and strike him for his words, but a quick glance found the human gazing out over the small rear gate of the walled garden into the barracks' grounds beyond. Following the path of his vision, the seneschal discerned a tall auburn haired warrior walking rapidly across the yard toward the stables: Maltahondo. Erestor had noted the soldier's intense concentration upon Legolas during the trial and had hardly been able to contain his wrath for this ogling. The seneschal had intended to seek him out and challenge the heartless elda once it was all over.

"Valar! Do you know the full history of that filth?" he asked, curious over the amount of venom in the mortal's curse.

"Aye, even before Ada's letter. Lindalcon told himself and me at the same time; a most unsettling experience I assure you. There is a creature more foul than even your recent exploits depict you to be, Erestor! Too young to know better, Legolas gave away his heart to that wretch, who cared for it not a whit. For this reason Leg suf suffers grief sufficient to chase lesser elves into the Halls of Waiting."

Erestor tried not to flinch at the verbal jab and failed. "What do you suppose he is up to?"

"I think the warrior is trying to escape his just punishment and I will not let that happen," growled the mortal and he hurried to the narrow picket portal and fussed with the latch, stuck from long cents ofs of non-use. "Do you wish to redeem yourself in my esteem?" he shot back over his shoulder. "Then follow me!" In his angry frustration Aragorn kicked the wood viciously and the gate gave way, breaking the rusted hasps as the door burst open. He marched purposefully in the warrior's wake.

Erestor hastened to rejoin his side, still unclear if Aragorn understood the connection between the archer, the guardsman, and Ningloriel. The seneschal did not wish to unwittingly reveal the Tawarwaith's darkest secret if it could be helped.

Under the eaves of the barn they followed the wild elf's former guardsman and protector and came upon him as he led a fine grey-dappled charger out from its box. Maltahondo came to a stop as he discovered his way barred and he gazed upon the strangers with surprise.

"Where are you going?" Aragorn queried sharply, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword.

"That is little enough concern of yours, human," the warrior smirked at the Man's attempt at menace. No mortal was a match for any of Thranduil's guard, no matter what elven realm had fostered him.

"You are Maltahondo, one of the elves that fought at Erebor," countered Aragorn. "I am a friend of Legolas and so s mys my concernere ere you not the one with him on the ridge? All involved in the Battle will be required to offer testimony; you cannot flee."

"I will not be hindered by you, Man. My reasons for leaving are known to those important enough to be informed; stand aside!"

Barely had he said these words before Erestor sprang upon the warrior and had him on the ground.

The stallion shied back and returned to its stall to observe from a position of safety.

"Erdë faica urquion! Yeltanyel!" [Despicable spawn of Orcs! I despise you!] Erestor screamed as he buried his fists into the corpsman's abdomen.

Malthen was breathless and could barely move as he tried to regain his wind, his hands forming an ineffective shield against the onslaught of the Noldo's blows. He attempted to roll out from under httacttacker but Erestor solidly kneed him in the groin and followed that up with a double fisted pounding upon the warrior's face.

"Úmëa hastanéro hínion! Feuyanyel!" Elyë nar cotumonya oialë!" [Evil defiler of children! I feel disgust for you! You are my enemy forever!] Erestor hurled these epithets loudly, in Quenya no less, to punctuate each impact of his fists and knees against the warrior's writhing body.

Aragorn looked on in gleeful astonishment as his old tutor, his foster father's trusted advisor and partner in crime, proceeded to give the guardsman a proper drubbing.

So unexpected was the assault that Maltahondo had no chance to fend off the onslaught as the Noldo barrelled into his midsection, knocking him off balance and forcing the air from his lungs. By the time he could breathe again he had sustained an appreciable number of deep bruises to his kidneys and liver, his left eye was swollen shut and bleeding, and his lower lip was split in two places. The Woodland warrior finally managed to wedge his knee between himself and Erestor and shoved the seneschal off him. Malthen rose unsteadily to his feet only to be plowed into again anshedshed back against the wall of the nearest stall.

Erestor pressed his forearm under the guardsman's chin and leaned all his weight and force upon the warrior's neck. Maltahondo's gaze turned desperate as he tried and failed to dislodge the throttling pressure from his trachea, clawing and sqing.ing. He landed a couple of ineffectual blows to the seneschal's side; his nemesis seemed not to feel them. Malthen attempted to kick the Noldo's feet from under him, but was unsuccessful as the lack of oxygen sapped his strength and diminished his reflexes.

Erestor was unmoved. His right hand delved into the pocket of his breeches as he held Malthen's darkening eyes with his glare of smouldering hatred. He withdrew his rigid fist tightly clenched around some hidden object.

"You took the love of Legolas' heart and the virginity of his body, breaking both ere he had even reached his Coming of Age!" With this sentence Erestor held his hand in front of the guardsman's face and opened his fingers. There on his palm was the severed lock of Malthen's hair that had adorned the wild elf's ankle for so many years. "And he knows what you have done, Maltahondo, and with whom you have done it! But for Mithrandir, that would have killed him!"

As his lungs struggled to find air and his mind screamed alarms amid the blossoming black blotches of encroaching oblivion, Maltahondo stared at the loosely coiled braid. Bound upon the archer, as its remembered curves proclaimed it must have been, it served as proof of the wild elf's unfailing devotion to the corpsman throughout the long years of his exile. Curled in the palm of the Noldo's hand, bereft of the soul that had cherished it, the lock testified to the ultimate betrayal the archer had discovered.

The fight's commotion and Erestor's yelling attracted several elves, but none intervened in the struggle, seeing Aragorn poised in the doorway with sword drawn. As the beating proceeded and Erestor's insults became more and more specific, the warriors openly expressed their shock and dismay. Now this Aragorn found both enlightening, for it was clear these elves understood every word of the High Tongue the seneschal was shouting, and alarming for Legolas' sake. The Man sheathed his weapon and moved quickly to stop the brawl only to discover it was over.

Maltahondo had lost consciousness and Erestor stepped away letting the tall warrior's form slide down into a limp tangle of limbs and tresses in the dirt of the barn. Breathing heavily from his exertion and the strain of emotion, he threw the discarded token atop the stilled body at his feet. He turned his gaze to Aragorn and found amused appreciation shining in the mortal's grey eyes.

"Consider yourself redeemed," said the Man.

Erestor bestowed a lopsided grin upon his former pupil and gave a brisk nod of acknowledgement for the pardon. Before he could draw enough breath to respond, Talagan and the healer entered onto the scene at a run and the crowd of silent warriors, by now grown quite large, parted to let them approach. Halting a few steps away, their sight documented the senseless elf on the ground and the dusty, dishevelled noble-born elda of Gondolin attempting to straighten his clothing and brush away the dirt.

"What is happening here?" demanded the captain, staring between the Man and the seneschal as Gladhadithen hastened to the fallen warrior's side. She made a swift evaluation and nodded to Talagan.

"He lives, merely rendered momentarily without breath. His heart is beating and he draws air, though shallowly," her report given she motioned for help from two of the guards and they heaved the warrior up bor bore him away. Gladhadithen remained, for her curiosity was too great to ignore and the corpsman needed no urgent tending.

"He attacked Maltahondo," said one of the soldiers as his glance implicated Erestor. His speech was quiet and the tones lacked the heat of anger one might expect such a charge to hold.

"Aye, but the Noldo was provoked," another warrior added solemnly.

"Indeed, the corpsman deserves worse if the claims spoken be true!" a third vehemently intoned.

Aragorn registered Erestor's look of pure astonishment at these statements and shrugged. "They all know Quenya quite well, it seems."

Now Erestor was horrified for once more his loose tongue had betrayed Pen-rhovan's trust. He had never intended to divulge Legolas' secret to the population.

"And what say you, Erestor of Gondolin, in defence of your actions?" asked the captain, suspicious at his troops' reactions of support for the outlanders. "What are these claims?"

"Maltahondo is not what he appears to be. He has deeply wounded one that is dear to me, and I will not have his crimes go unnoticed and unpunished," said Erestor boldly.

"It is not your place to mete out justice in our lands! We shall see to the enforcement of our own Laws and need not the aid of the Noldor of Imladris to show us our duty," the Sinda hissed.

"It is our Tirno," one of Danwaith warriors softly spoke. "And these are not crimes to be voiced in the open council, Talagan. The Noldo is his lover; there are certain rights beyond the Law."

Erestor, Aragorn and Talagan all startled to hear this declaration but for very different reasons. The veteran warrior was amazed at the ease with which the Danwaith accepted the disgraced prince's unorthodox choice for mates, a foreign male of a race despised among the Sindar and a wizard not even of like kind. The Wood Elves seemed to find no fault with their champion requiring sex and soul bonding from separate individuals. Talagan shook his head, perplexed.

Aragorn and Erestor were surprised to hear the seneschal given the intimate designation. To any elf the bond of union was clear in his eyes. Based on the combination of the day's testimony and Erestor's actions on Legolas' behalf the warriors assumed this bond was with their Tirno. The Imladrians felt it best under the circumstances not to reveal that the Noldo would not be staying with the Tawarwaith. The Sylvan folk's opinion had readily strayed from Legolas more than once, what the warriors would make of the less than formal liaison they could not guess.

"Aye, he seeks redress for despoiling the purity of a child," yet another said, his words fulsome with anguish and loathing to even have to voice such a thought.

"Sadly, I must confirm these accusations are true. I have known of this since the Release of Annaldír, but for Legolas' sake remained silent," said the healer. She turned with apologetic eyes to Erestor. "He had no one then; it seemed a greater burden for this to become open gossip, considering the weight of the Judgement he bears already. Fearfaron and Mithrandir also heard Maltahondo's complete admission to these despicable acts and the three of us determined he was never to go near our Tawarwaith again or face disgrace before the Council."

The seneschal shared her pained expression; he had no doubt that she understood the corpsman's doubled deceit.

"By Namo!" breathed out Talagan barely above a whisper. His perusal of Elrond's letter had not gone far enough to reveal Maltahondo as part of the fallen elf's past, and even had he seen those words he would never have imagined these events taking place while Legolas was but an elfling under the guardian's care. The fact that Legolas had survived the ordeal spoke volumes as to the truth of the claims, for everyone understood how deeply he loved the guardsman. Malthen had been his brother, his father and his mentor, all at once.

{How easy it must have been to manipulate such adoration! This explains the wizard's bond; only that salvaged the archer.} And even with all of this running through his thoughts, still the depth of the injury was hidden from Talagan, for he knew nothing of Maltahondo's affair with the Queen.

The implications this news held in regard to the events at Erebor were blatantly unignorable, and the captain could sany any of the warriors shared his feelings. Maltahondo had ample motivation to seek the archer's silence forever, for the rape of a child was the one crime the Wood Elves deemed worthy of immediate execution, preferably by the hand of the innocent's parents. No decree of Council or King was required, for the evidence of such a heinous corruption was apparent in the victim's defiled and lifeless body. An elf had never committed such a sin that was recorded in the histories; these horrendous desecrations were the result of Orc raids on families travelling to or from the Woodland Realm.

"What is to be done, captain?" asked one warrior.

"He must die!" exclaimed another in exasperation for so obvious a remedy.

"Wait, you do not understand," cautioned Erestor in alarm. "Legolas still loves him! If Malthen dies because of this, I know not if the archer can endure."

This admission made the assembled elves very uncomfortable for a time as they tried to find a logical way td thd this into their understanding of their champion. It was the healer who wisely found the correct explanation.

"Of course he loves Malthen! Has he not always done so? It is the natural development of a child's mind and heart to think this way. The guardsman's time and companionship filled the gaps left by his parents' neglect. Handled properly, this infatuation would have faded. This makes the crime more abhorrent, for Maltahondo twisted that emotion all aroand and added into the mix the pleasures of the body. Nay, Legolas is not strong enough to survive the guilt such an execution would bring him."

"Many die on patrol," commented Talagan dryly. "But I would hear his account of Erebor first, to judge if any remorse resides in the corpsman's heart. If he condemns Tirno further, then his crimes against his former charge can be revealed. Maltahondo will discover his fate drastically altered. I am thinking he is fit bait for the pitfalls."

"Nay, captain, if he speaks thus then the King will only have cause to withdraw his pledge of support for our Tawarwaith even before we have had opportunity to give it!" complained one of the soldiers. "And I would not see Tirno humiliated by the revelation of this evil abuse before the Council and Lord Thranduil. Hard enough it was to face down the derogation of his character for consorting with Noldor spies!"

Erestor frowned at this but for the time being the soldiers seemed rather to have chosen to overlook that he was one of those spies.

"He handled it well enough, even the King was impressed with his fortitude," spoke another.

"Thranduil knows of it anyway," murmured Talagan, suddenly wondering if the King was fully cognisant of the extent to which the guardsman had used Ningloriel's son. {Did he realise it prior to the letter? Could he have been aware of this and still left the elfling to such a cursed fate?} He wished to believe his old friend incapable of such cold-hearted apathy, but he understood more than anyone deepdeeply Thranduil resented the child, truly believing him to be the illegitimate offspring of Elrond of Imladris.

"Eru's arse!" seethed Erestor in rage. "How could he permit such a thing to happen to an innocent?"

A chorus of similar comments arose among the increasingly large number of warriors in the stableyard and the Danwaith questioned openly the validity of such a callous elf to lead them. It was for them all the same, doing the act and allowing it to be done, and Thranduil was in their minds as guilty as the corpsman.

"He wanted Legolas to die," whispered Gladhadithen and covered her face in her hands, as she wept for the pain the elfling had suffered, alone and unaided by anyone. "Legolas' death would have forced Ningloriel to provide him a new heir. Why did I not see it?"

"Do not blame yourself," Erestor consoled her kindly. "His own mother had no inkling this was happening either."

"Oh? You sound very sure of that," the healer mumbled through her choking sobs. "Did you know Ningloriel well? Did she speak of her son to you?"

Erestor found himself at a loss and shared a look with Aragorn communicating that the answer to both questions was negative. He could not bring himself to reply; once again his well-intentioned remarks had instead added to the calamity in progress.

The Man placed a comforting hand on his old tutor's shoulder and squeezed. "Such speculation is pointless and does not help Legolas," he reminded everyone.

"Aye, this is not about whether anyone could have prevented the despoilment; it is done. Neither need we wonder if he is able to withstand exposure of his broken soul. Instead I ask, would we wish it required of him?" posited one of the Sylvans.

"I do not think you need worry over Maltahondo's testimony, for there is other evidence that casts doubt upon Legolas' responsibility," Aragorn added. "Indeed, whatever the guardian may say can do no further harm. Therefore, let not this other matter come before the Council and the hearing of the entire congregation of Legolas' people."

"That all here can agree upon; we will prevent it if possible," stated Talagan conclusively and the combined assent of the gathered elves flowed in soothingly protective tones across the grounds.

Before they could continue the nearly noiseless pressure of elven feet racing over the grass captured the crowds' attention and the warriors stood aside once more to admit Lindalcon within the inner circle of the impromptu hearing. The young elf looked at this assembly in bewilderment, resting his sight last on Aragorn and Erestor. He gawked at the seneschal's ruined attire and mussed hair.

"What is this?" he demanded worriedly. "Mithrandir grows concerned and Aiwendil is fuming over your failure to bring that honey-milk! Fearfaron sent me to fetch you back for Legolas feels something amiss. The Council is ready to reconvene and we must make haste or Legolas will have to confront the King's interrogation without you."

Without another word the group dispersed, Talagan leading the warriors and Gladhadithen back through the stableyard to the armoury. Entering the stronghold through the archways there and filing towards the Council Chamber, the guards quickly reclaimed their positions at the back of the room. Aragorn and Erestor turned and hastened into the garden after Lindalcon, dismayed to find the green turfed lawns empty of their friends. As they passed through the doorway and squeezed between the gathered throng, the King shot them a withering glare.

Legolas heaved an audible sigh of relief that turned into a gasp upon observing the Noldo's disarrayed locks and dirty clothes. His eyes questioned his two friends but Aragorn only smiled reassurance as Erestor mouthed that he was fine and not to worry, the meaning decipherable to the wild elf even if the implied words were not.

"The recent charges have all been dismissed or revoked and Tino lno longer stands accused. Several citizens, however, have come forward and expressed to me and to other members of this Council…" Iarwain was speaking for the record and stopped mid sentence as his vision took in Erestor.

Far from the noble demeanour he had presented earlier, the seneschal was a mess. His carefully groomed hair was askew, the ribbon wrappings unravelled and bits of straw caught within the braiding. His tunic had several small spots of blood staining it and one knee of his breeches had a tear while the other was completely inged wed with grime. He smelled distinctly like the stableyard.

"…strong reservations over the Judgement imposed at the Battle of Erebor," the Elder belatedly completed his thought with a scowl of disapproval for the Imladrians. "It is therefore right to rehear the testimony of the parties involved that day and determine if the Tawarwaith truly deserves the punishment allotted. Let those who deem the Judgement false speak now and identify their reasons for the histories."

"I challenge the Judgement," spoke Mithrandir. He felt, as did Legolas, that rehashing the events would lead to some greater calamity, but with the trial underway he could not withhold his eyewitness account. "I was present that day and can swear that no goblins had over-run the ridge above Legolas. Therefore, he could not have exposed his position to enemy attack from above, yet that is whence the rocks were thrown which defeated his careful aim."

"For my part, I must be the one to claim responsibility for the errors made in perception that day. I was Legolas' commander and left too much of a burden for one archer to bear. Had I positioned more snipers and made better use of the allied ground forces, the goal may have been achieved," Talagan said contritely. The warriors around him grumbled in disagreement; this was not the answer.

"I must protest that on principle, for I am no warrior," strangely enough, it was Fearfaron who spoke for the assembled soldiers. "This was war, and the fate of a warrior is held not within the hands of his captain, his comrades, his enemy or even himself. The chances of life and death upon the battlefield are equal, none can predict who will survive and who will perish before the end of the battle. Neither can one elf prevent the deaths or secure the lives of any of those soldiers engaged in the conflict. Unless he be their King and have the power to prevent the army from marching from our borders in the first place."

At this flagrant challenge to his authority and open dispute of his decision to claim Smaug's horde, Thranduil leaped from his chair, his face red in outrage.

"By Eru, you would dare accuse me?" he cursed and fairly charged from the dais towards the carpenter.

This time he was not quick enough, however, and before he was within arm's length of the spirit hunter the Tawarwaith jumped between them, in the same motion snatching away the curved dagger from the belt at the Sinda's waist. Legolas held the blade poised to dart deep into the immortal body towering over him, the glint in his icy eyes as sharply dangerous, alight with an equal promise of death.

"Daro! Dartho ad! E aval matho! [Stop! Stay back! You will not touch him,]" came the chilling order.

In spite of himself Thranduil froze on the spot, every nerve in his body tingling in warning of his imperilment. He took one step away from this unexpected transformation of weepy elfling to fearsome protector. Thranduil saw the carpenter's hand contact his foster son's shoulder, pulling ever so slightly. The fey creature eased his stance enough for all to resume respiration again. Legolas lowered the blade.

"None of this is necessary, for I say again and for the record: let the Judgement remain!" Legolas continued in the same tone of command and none dared interrupt the voice of Tawar. "The Battle of Erebor is history and the losses endured are irreversible. Nothing will bring back those killed save the will of Mandos. That is what this is about! Two of our comrades have yet to face the Vala, and until they do their fate cannot be determined; their re-birth delayed indefinitely.

"Fearfaron is wrong; those warriors' deaths could have been prevented and I am the one who held their fates that day! I alone had the advantage of the heights, and could observe the movements on the battle plain with greater acumen than even Talagan with all his years of experience. From my position, I watched the Goblin guards decimate our troops and our allies.

"I had ample access to those despicable fighters and numerous chances to shoot them. I could have killed them all. Had I done so I would have spared the lives of the Lost Warriors as well as several score among the dwarves and Men! With the bodyguard removed, I could then have taken my leisure and slain the Goblin King unopposed.

"Thus, the burden of Erebor is mine alone to bear."

Tbc
Reviews!

Aff.net:

Louise_oblique: thank you for the review! I also hope this site stays alive. You take care too!

Waters Reflection: thanks for those kind words! I do try to be consistent, but sometimes I do fall behind, too. I am also glad you did not mind me repeating legolas' description! I do enjoy doing that, and since galadriel has not seen him, it was the perfect opportunity! I am also pleased you think arwen is believable this way, for I think you are right she lived a very sheltered life until the loss of her mother.

Calenharn Elflover: thank you for the review! Well you are right of course, just because the Mirror shows it doesn't mean it will be so! Legolas really would be better off not to go, takes him near Dol Guldur, numerous Orcs, and of course then those renegade warriors.

MorierBlackleaf: thanks! Oh I love it! Sexual healing indeed! But legolas does not need to go to Lorien for that, as we shall see. Ah, now regarding galadriel and elrond's trial: I have a feeling thranduil will be less than eager to hand over control of this event to her, feeling she is tloselose to be impartial.

Crystal: they will not end up being kind to one another in this story, no. as far as who legolas will finally choose, you are very clever to have picked up on those clues! I think though that legolas is going to need a lot of time to heal his heart after he deals with malthen and it mat be hard for him to trust his feelings again.

Sivan: oh thank you! You always say such nice things and I feel glad when you tell me you love the story! I, too, wish rumil could be a part of legolas' life, that is the sort of friends he needs more of.

Kirmeki: no worries, review when you can! Well, the Mirror is a bit fickle. That was not happening at the moment galadriel was looking in the mirror, and she does not know for certain if those events will occur at all. rumil is one of my favorite elves, too.

ff.net:

ivorybrowneyes: thanks for reviewing! You are right, legolas deserves better. In haldir's defence I have to say he would never have imagined things would get so out of hand. His error was leaving too many of the archers from mirkwood there. Maybe he was concerned about lindalcon and felt his warriors would make sure his orders were carried out.

Re: glorfindel/legolas. I am thinking on it and trying to make sure my idea is believable and will work! I am worried it has been done before and am checking various archives to see if t has.

Kryspen: thanks! I am mulling it over carefully and will write it as long as I do not run upon the idea in someone else's story! I am hoping!

Thanks for your support regarding the source for elrond's character. I was concerned this was not clearly explained for folks. I too wish there were some way to see beyond the façade this kind of person is so skillful in maintaining.

Chloe Amethyst: thank you! I hate that kind of crowd mentality too and it is very hard to stand against! Rumil was no thinking too clearly about such severe consequences from his actions. Those mirkwood renegades exude sliminess, but the lorien elves have no info on what they are capable of.

True, the mirror does not reveal what is immutable and what is merely possible! As for lindalcon, if he leaves greenwood I doubt he could stay away too long, he would miss his brother and sister. And though he is very angry at her he would also miss his mother. For legolas, it would be so mucser ser not to go there until the ring quest!

Galathrim.net:

Kissaki: thank you for this review! Your words are so kind. Yes, legolas has certainly endured more than most! I think that is why it so important for him to clean up mirkwood for tawar and shelter his siblings from hurt. That makes it seem worthwhile, all the pain.

And thank you also for updating the story on your site! It looks great there. So, folks, here is another place where feud can be found complete to date:

http://www.galadhrim.net/archive/viewstory.php?sid=1030
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