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Feud	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 27131 -:- 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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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.

A/N: I am sorry for the long delay, I had relatives in town the last two weeks and could not get much writing done. For response to reviews, click the word reviews in the story list or submit one!

Chapter 66: Govadel od Erebor [Council of Erebor] Part 5

Silence.

Unbearable, excruciating absence of sound filled the vacuum left by the completion of the Tawarwaith's speech. Within the tightly packed chamber a heavy emptiness descended; a smothering, tactile void, a suffocating gauze of pulsing discord wrought by the elevated emotions discharged between the carpenter, the King, and the outcast. In hushed uneasy tension the very air felt stretched, impossible to breathe, transmuted into filaments of spun glass pulled too thin to support the mass of the silica. The merest disturbance must surely shatter the atmosphere beneath the weight of the burden imposed by the conflict.

The Wood Elves waited in dread anticipation for the destruction of their champion, for how would the King abide that open challenge and blatant threat? Juxtaposed with the magnitude of the wild elf's treacherous action, his words failed to overshadow the population's morbid fascination with the blade.

The dagger had been drawn, held in vengeful ferocity before Thranduil's solid chest shielded under the thick leather jerkin. So easily had the knife found its place in the Wood Elf's hand; it became as a thing alihrouhrough connection to the wild warrior's wrath. But the outcast was a tease, hinting that rich elven heart's blood would whet the weapon's long, dry and thirsty surface only to lower the razor fine edge to point at the cold, stone floor. How many millennia had the dirk been cosseted away in silk and velvet-lined leather, shown off only as a prize rather than the deadly device designed to serve Caranthir the Dark, kinslayer of Menegroth, the fiercest son of Fëanáro? Would such a weapon now suffer being put away unslaked?

Held limp and dangling in the Tawarwaith's fingers, its potential for carnage seemed magnified; possessing a power of its own, its slashing strength grew more formidable by the second. Enough, perhaps, to overwhelm the fallen archer's better qualities and induce him to release the rage of centuries upon his tormentor. Legolas had unsheathed the blade, it would be even easier now to simply raise it up and strike.

Yet, not a single one of the Danwaith believed their exiled prince was prepared to destroy Thranduil. What then must become of the Sylvans, dragged into the abomination of kinslaying beyond anything known among them before? Could they stand frozen and behold the King's retaliation? Many had been prepared to accept the sacrifice of the Tawarwaith in payment for the lives of the Lost Warriors, but to forfeit their champion for the pride of the Sinda Lord grated upon the soul. That was not a death worthy of entry within the Halls of Waiting.

Like green blades in a meadow swept by a shifting wind, the Wood Elves billowed under the fluctuating flow of perturbed captivation, yearning both to flee and to stay, to evade eye-witness knowledge of the catastrophe and to watch the fate of the outcast play out.

None found the means to decamp. It was as though invisible strands of hithlain [mist thread, used to make elven rope strong and light] bound the chamber's occupants. Each individual linked to another yet together remained isolated in distinct conglomerates, every group ensnared in the web of strained sensibility. There stood the soldiers on one side, enraged to know the truth of their leader's unfeeling heart. The citizenry filled the room's other half, terrified that the very roots of their society seemed to be afflicted with necrosis, while the diplomats and councillors formed a buffer between them. Each party struggled to separate from the conflicting core containing their Tawarwaith and their King, held mesmerised by the point of the dagger so casually clasped, so ominously poised.

But no retaliation did the soldiers seek. As a unit they retained their aloof demeanour, projecting restrained hostility toward Thranduil. Not one of them had made any move to assist their King, not even Talagan.

The concept of the guards failing to back their Lord was unimaginable; the Wood Elves knew not what to think and determined the warriors were responding to the carpenter's statement. Fearfaron's opinion was not foreign to the folk of the Woodland Realm. Indeed, their shock was due more to the sound of words, heretofore whispered in the quiet confines of flet and talan, reverberating through the halls of the King's own stronghold. Many privately agreed with Fearfaron's assessment of the reason for the Battle of Erebor, finding the waste of life for such a purpose unacceptable. Yet, up to, no, none but a few had dared to openly express these thoughts or even to speak privately to the Council.

And soon Thranduil heard the omnipresent silence rather than the thudding of his heart and realised he still faced this threat alone. Of its own accord, his right hand settled upon the hilt of the sword of Dior.

Legolas sighed, venting his soul of regret and irritation. The ire left his eyes, trained steadily on those of the Woodland Lord, and the Tawarwaith comprehended the lack of wisdom in presenting such heated resentment. He expected to be swamped at any moment by a wave of warriors intent on sparing their Lord and decided to lessen the chance of Fearfaron suffering from such a mauling. The forest champion turned the dagger hilt out facing and extended his arm.

Thranduil seized the weapon and swiftly drew it from the almost open palm, cutting a deep incision across the older laceration made by Talagan's sword, a small reprimand in physical form.

With a soft hissing exhalation Legolas yanked his hand back and closed his fingers tight around the wound, but a splatter of blood oozed out to stain the floor as the blade slipped back into its sheath with a soft sigh of satisfaction. It had taken its taste of the First-born's essence and was content.

A simmering whisper of rising wrath rippled through the warriors at the sight of the crimson droplets going glossy black as they struck the stone but no reprisals arose, for the elves were as uneasy with their discontent as Thranduil was to note it. Could they truly do bodily harm to their King? Could they stand by indifferently as their champion received further abuses?

Fearfaron gripped Legolas tighter.

Nothing happened. No move to apprehend him developed>
In bewilderment Legolas scanned the throng of soldiers and found unexpectedly sympathetic expressions directed towards him. First sharing his astonishment via a quick glance over his shoulder to Fearfaron, Legolas returned his attention to the King.

Thranduil glared into the uncomfortably insistent and perplexed lapis orbs of the wild elf, trying to understand what the outcast could possibly hope to achieve by his words after his incendiary confrontation. No one had ever drawn a weapon on Thranduil without suffering severe reprisal, even unto forfeiture of life, yet the fallen prince stood straight, no longer crouched as if ready to spring, calmly awaiting the Sinda's countermove, staring with that disconcerting expression of earnest contrition and stubborn defiance.

The King focused on the bleeding hand and debated whether to imprison the outcast as would be within his rights under the Law. Yet, Thranduil felt an uneasy squeezing in his gut as his senses registered the intensity of the attention he was receiving from his subjects, little of it holding good will. Realising none of the warriors had moved to protect him was a greater blow than any the Sinda Lord had known since shouldering the monarchy; the loyalty of his soldiers had been a constant in his reign.

{It is the Tawarwaith's doing. How he has created this rift in only one hour's time?}

Anger flared anew yet Thranduil did not act on it, uncertain for the first time since his father's death whether his orders would be obeyed. He turned and resumed his place upon the dais but remained standing.

Fearfaron wrapped both arms around his adopted son's chest and pulled him close, bowing his forehead upon Legolas' crown and exhaling a relieved sough as the King retreated. His second son was in enough discomfort owing to the trial and the spirit hunter felt guilty for beckoning further disaster by baiting Thranduil. He had not expected Legolas to act so rashly, and the ease with which the fallen archer had chosen a course of violence concerned him greatly. The carpenter did not know how to help Legolas understand this regrettable habit of chasing after punishment much less prompt him to stop.

Legolas had but this one chance to redirect his life back to a more normal set of circumstances and Fearfaron, while able to appreciate why he refused it, was saddened to know the combined arguments of himself, Aiwendil and Lindalcon had failed to sway the wild elf. Legolas had ceased his impassioned rebuttals in the scant glimmering of pre-dawn after hours of circuitous discussion, and the talan builder had allowed himself to believe his foster son had been won over.

It was perfectly clear now that the Tawarwaith not only rejected the ideas but quite forcefully shoved them from him as though the concept of pardon was an abominable epithet, proudly gathering his shameful status close like a title of prestige and dignity. The wild warrior seemed to be deliberately offering more reasons to find fault with his behaviour on the battle plain.

Legolas' friends might comprehend his motives, but Thranduil certainly could not. Upsetting the Judgement of Erebor was the only way for the outcast to reclaim his citizenship among his people, to return to active participation in defence of his beloved Greenwood, to seek the shores of the Undying Lands in future. Should the stigma of his crimes remain, Legolas would be refused entry to Eldamar where his mother dwelled. If for nothing else than this Thranduil had expected the former prince to actively campaign for overturning the sentence.

{Whom is he shielding? Someone he loves.}

No sooner had the thought flitted through his mind than the King's eyes flickered away and darted between Fearfaron and Erestor. It made no sense for the carpenter to be involved in his son's death and thus upon the seneschal his scrutiny remained. The Noldo glared back from a countenance drawn into openly hostile lines and creases.

{Friendship indeed! First the wizard, now this Noldo Lord; the outcast's promiscuity has garnered some rather unusual supporters for my Realm.}

Knowing nothing of the elf's private life, Thranduil had made the same mistake as his soldiers and Erestor's expression reinforced this. And in spite of his dismay ovhe whe warriors' betrayal Thranduil felt his face form a grin of immense satisfaction as he imagined Elrond's reaction to the defection of his most trusted associate.

Watching all this transpire, Mithrandir, Aiwendil and Lindalcon remained frozen in dread while Aragorn and Erestor stood poised for action, the hilts of their swords enclosed in their steely grips. The fingers of Mithrandir's right hand held onto the arm of his brother wizard, for Radagast was ready to put his staff to work on the Sinda's head. With his left arm Gandalf embraced Lindalcon both for comfort and to prevent the young elf from dashing into the dangerous centre of altercation. The doughty woodsman had insinuated his bulk amid the councillors and their apprentices and stared with eyes the shape of Ithil bant [full moon].

It was Gladhadithen who mitigated the intensity of the high emotions and calmed the assembly. She briskly stepped from among the warriors, sundering the coherence of their scorching glares of strife and enmity convergent on the King. Facing Legolas with a disapproving scowl reminiscent of a mother about to scold an elfling for horseplay in the talan, the healer held out her hand, demanding he reveal the injury. Legolas complied.

"It is not too deep and should be fine in a day. Yet it might have become serious," she said, clearly not referring to the laceration alone. "There is a time and place for weapons, Tirno, and this is neither!" she reprimanded and cleaned the cut with a soft cloth drawn from her pocket.

"Aye," he answered quietly and Fearfaron rubbed his shoulders, finally loosening his protective hold.

"Please, Legolas, have some consideration for the well-being of your friends! My heart ceased pounding for several minutes, fearing you were about to be struck down," grumbled Aiwendil.

"Indeed, we were all concerned for you, my friend," spoke Aragorn in relieved tones. He had been in Thranduil's place once and recalled vividly the cold shrinking sensation that collected in his gut that night.

Erestor chose to remain silent, for his memories concerning daggers and the wild elf gave him a sick feeling also, and he was gravely worried.

"It was not a wise move, certainly, but I believe we all understand your motives and those are just," added Mithrandir unsuccessfully attempting to make the pitch of his words light and calming. It was impossible, for the rage he had seen in Legolas' eyes too closely resembled the haze of blood lust consuming the wild warrior on the morning after the spider battle.

"Just?" barked Thranduil. "What, then, is your definition of malediction?"

"Your concept of Judgement readily presents itself," retorted the Maia.

{Far! [Enough!]} The abrupt, unvoiced command from the Tawarwaith jerked the Istar mentally and physically and he refrained from further argument with the King of the Woodland Elves.

Behind them Iarwain cleared his throat to make sure everyone's attention was properly placed in his direction.

"Aye, your reasons were understandable, Tirno, and who would not respond in like manner to see a loved one threatened?" the eldest elder said, but though his words addressed the archer he was watching the Woodland Lord. "A similar reaction on Talagan's part has only a short time ago been forgiven."

At this Thranduil gave a snort of contempt. "You see it strangely, councillor. Talagan sought to defend his King and prince while the outcast held my own weapon upon me in menace."

"We were both protecting what we honour; it is exactly the same," countered the captain with a voice so cold it was all Thranduil could do to repress a shiver.

The Sinda's puzzlement and irritation grew, for Talagan's demeanour bespoke more than the hurt feelings and cantankerous disgruntlement his earlier mood had projected. {What has happened?} Thranduil's eyes queried his old friend but received only a glare of raw anger in return.

"Truly, when those we cherish are imperilled it is difficult to think in terms of rational caution. If a father's love might provoke unfounded fears and blinding rage, might not a son react in kind?" added Aragorn and earned a sneer of derision from Thranduil for his insolence.

Yet the response among the crowd was supportive of the Man's statement; Tirno sougsought no counter-charges for being falsely accused of the most horrendous of criminal acts upon an innocent.

"Fine!" the King snarled. "It may have seemed I was about to do the carpenter injury yet I would never attack an elf, especially one unarmed. Let it not be said I am unforgiving of Tirno's over-zealous instinct to safeguard his foster father. The blood spilled shall be sufficient penance since the knife was surrendered voluntarily."

"Hurrah! A pardon!" shouted out the woodsman as he threw a hand up high to emphasise his relief. He turned and shoved his way toward the open arches, deeming it his lot to carry the news out to the eldar in the courtyard. Of course he knew the Wood Elves' hearins sus sufficiently acute to make his outcry unnecessary, but perhaps the humble human had seen enough of the justice of the Sylvans for a time.

"And wisely granted," Mithrandir nodded his head sagely, "for Legolas has shown the calibre of his character before in salvaging my life and that of Aragorn through the perilous journey among the bespelled trees and during our fight against the Orcs."

"Even before that, he kept me from the clutches of the Wraiths and the tortures of Dol Guldur. That scar on his clavicle was suffered for my benefit," Erestor added, "a poisoned wound."

Shuddering mumbles of empathy filtered across the chamber; poison was a hideous means of death and many had watched helplessly as loved ones succumbed to such treacheries.

"All of this testimony casts doubt upon those strong recriminations pertaining to Erebor, Tirno," said Iarwain. "You must see that your actions then were bound by your duty to obey orders and your inexperience with such conflict."

"Aye," said Talagan sternly. "It is not the place of one warrior to dispute the plans of his captain, or all would be lost before ever an arrow was loosed."

"That is true. Not even a seasoned soldier will ignore his leader's commands for to do so would spread confusion among the rest of the troops and initiate greater loss of life," Aragorn joined in.

"Even if you had killed those bodyguards that would not have insured the lives of the Lost Warriors," Lindalcon declared. For all the long years since the fateful battle, he had seldom entered reverie without enduring a harrowing dream of the gory scenes and his father's end. "Valtamar would have placed his body between death and Andamaitë regardless of your choice in targets."

"Nay, none of you understand!" Legolas snapped. "You were not there on the ridge, Talagan, but had you been you would have surely ordered me to shoot the goblin guards first!"

"You cannot know what I would order, Tirno. Your experience is greater now but your expertise is in a much different style of combat than the warfare between organised armies we faced that day in Erebor.

"It is the lot of a commander to know a good portion of his best soldiers may be lost due to his decisions, and yet these must be made. If I would have changed my orders, as you suggest, then that only speaks to my errors in the initial assessment of the best strategy to use. The fault cannot rest upon the shoulders of the novice to battle, but upon the veteran!"

"The fault rests on Thranduil!" shouted a warrior boldly as querulous muttering followed the captain's words.

"Fearfaron is right! Why did our soldiers pour out their life blood upon the dragon's stash?" another rejoined.

"The warriors willingly sign on for duty!" yelled an opposing voice from the crowd of citizens.

"We need the treasure to furnish your weaponry and supplement the sustenance granted by the forest!" countered a hotly strident Sinda from the very edges of the archway.

"Ahe vhe vaults depleted that we must sacrifice our kinfolk to satisfy the greed of the stronghold?" demanded a Sylvan father to three elflings motherless since Erebor.

Soon a loud cacophony of angry arguing filled the chamber and the temperature rose dangerously among the jostling throng. It seemed a small war might erupt within the hall as the polarised elves took sides and harangued each other.

"Calm yourselves!" boomed Mithrandir's voice.

"This is not the way to solve the dilemma!" cautioned Aiwendil.

"Peace! Let not Erebor claim more from among us!" called out Legolas, alarmed to see the mounting dissension. He rounded on Thranduil. "Will you not speak? Here is ample reason to leave the Judgement alone!"

Upon his words all other voices ceased and everyone turned to witness this new challenge to their King.

Thranduil was stunned by the lack of cohesion among the people and realised his base of power sprang not from the respect of the Danwaith but from the strength of his forces. He had managed to convince himself that the simple Sylvan elves regarded their Sindar cousins with something close to awe for the glory of Doriath. By association, Thranduil imagined he and his captains enjoyed the same reverent respect.

Like many in a position of power and prestige, Thranduil assumed he had achieved his status by virtue of his innate superiority. He completely failed to acknowledge that his Lordship existed due to an unspoken contract, a covenant between himself and his subjects. They agreed to let him exercise their individual power as a unified entity and in exchange the King was to honour that trust with protection and safeguard for themselves and their trees.

Without the immigrants from Neldoreth and their well-disciplined troops, the Wood Elves would be at the mercy of the Shadow, yet now that the warriors' allegiance was revoked from Thranduil the citizenry divided into antagtic tic factions of discord. They would follow whoever gained the support of the soldiers, and that was obviously not the King.

In fact, the troops, Sindar and Sylvan alike, were overwhelmingly united in their renewed faith in the disgraced prince.

"I will speak," Thranduil stepped down from the platform, moving to stand beside Legolas as he faced the crowd.

"This Realm is under siege and everyone had best comprehend that fact," his bitter words began. "Without the might of our warriors, the forest would fall to the Wraiths and the Danwaith would be forced either to flee for Lothlorien or over the Misty Mountains, chased to the Havens by foul Warg riders. Would you abandon your homeland and the trees that have sheltered the Sylvan folk since before the face of Ithil graced the skies?"

"What would you know of it; this is not your motherland!" a disgruntled Wood Elf demanded.

"Aye, my country fell under the weight of the Darkness threatening you now!" countered Thranduil. "So perhaps I understand something of it after all, whether this is the land of my birth or no!"

"Your father's Sindar troops did not save Neldoreth!" shot back another dissenter.

"Nay, but not due to failure or weakness on the part of the warriors or of Oropher. Doriath fell due to conflict from within Thingol's fortress. Let not the Danwaith be forced to re-enact the panic of the Grey Elves upon the loss of their leader!" cautioned Thranduil.

That prompted a rebellious quietude.

"Erebor was my decision, that is true. My cause for marching had less to do with gaining treasures than with reminding the rest of Arda of the might of the Wood Elves. Not since the Last Alliance have our warriors gone to open conflict, and in such darkening days we appear to be hiding in fear and dread. I desired to instruct the minions of Melkor; the Danwaith are not to be tested without exacting a heavy price in casualties."

"Those are honourable reasons," said Legolas as though these were the most natural sentiments for him to express. "We have indeed been pressed farther and farther into the northern corner of Greenwood. The Shadow grows bold, thinking us too diminished to defend our lands."

He seemed surprised he uhe utter silence following his words and eventually turned to look meaningfully at Thranduil, prompting him to continue.

"And it will not do for the free peoples of Arda to discount the Wood Elves," added Thranduil hesitantly, sending a bewildered side-glance to the outcast. "Lake Town and Dale have no standing army and could never have defeated the goblins alone."

"Yet that the goblins would attwas was not known when first you set forth from beneath the Greenwood's branches," quarrelled Fearfaron and received the most exasperated expression from his foster son he had ever seen.

"Not to those uninvolved in tracking the spread of Melkor's demon hordes," explained the King more confidently. "Yet my captains and I, and even the councillors to some extent, have long been aware that only fear of Smaug repelled the Goblin King. It was his greatest desire to over throw the dwarves of the Iron Mountains and enslave the citizens of Dale. The dwarves he would have slaughtered while the humans would have become so much livestock, imprisoned below ground and bred to provide fodder for the foul beasts!"

"Do you now claim you had the interests of Durin's Children foremost in your plans when you led your warriors out of the forest?" scoffed the brown wizard.

"Nay, Aiwendil!" Legolas interrupted the exchange, vexation transforming his voice as he lifted his arms to emphasise his annoya let letting them drop again with a shallow slap against his thighs. "The King need not be motivated by altruism for the dwarves, only the interests of Greenwood. How would it be to have the goblins at our back gate while the Wraiths remain squatters within our southern regions?"
hesehese words caused everyone to pause again; for hearing the Tawarwaith defend the King's decision over the Battle of Erebor was certainly not what the citizens expected.

That Thranduil found this equally bewildering was plain by the expression of quizzical doubt expressed by his staring eyes.

"You speak wisely, Tirno," he said cautiously and gauged the elves' reaction before continuing. The Danwaith remained attentively mute and the warriors held their peace as well. "And even were the Wraiths not there and the goblins cared not to remain in Erebor, still would the Greenwood suffer should the dwarves be destroyed.

"Much that we require comes in trade from their talented smiths and armourers. We have not the means here to make such works, nor do the humans in Rohan possess the skill to meet our standards. Lothlorien also depends upon the dwarves of the Iron Mountains for goods and material for the tools of war. We would be forced to journey all the way to Ered Luin without Dain's colony."

Aragorn and Erestor exchanged looks, wordlessly agreeing it would be best not to mention that Thranduil might trade with Imladris for such necessities. Among the Noldor of the protected valley were many gifted metalworkers trained by no less than Celebrimbror himself.

"I can see the practical value of what you say," averred Iarwain, unwilling to be left out of this unexpected concurrence between the wild archer and his estranged father. He could easily see that Legolas intended to salvage the King, though the reasons were wholly inexplicable to the ancient elder. "And it is also true that even the Beornings recognised the threat promised by the demise of the dragon, for unbidden Beorn brought his changelings forth."

"Beorn is not above a bit of treasure either," noted Gandalf with amusement. "Sometimes even the shape-shifters cannot produce all required for their existence and must trade among the other free peoples. It would seem the dragon's horde would draw the desire of every kind, be they good or evil!"

"That being so, why should the Greenwood not claim her share? Most of what Smaug collected was scavenged and stolen from Doriath and the Noldor Realms that fell in the First or Second Ages. Surely one elven race has at least equal claim to elven wealth as lesser folk," Thranduil opined.

"Fair enough. I am convinced the goblins could not have been defeated without the combined efforts of the Four Armies of Light against the Hordes of Darkness," said Radagast. "Whatever the motive for marching, the cause for the fighting was worthy." He sent his friend a cheery smile, recalling the spilling of these words from Legolas' lips just months ago.

"Good!" interjected the Tawarwaith, sending a warm grin back. He was pleased to at last see the chance to draw the peoples' attention away from criticising Thranduil's leadership. "In that case it should be easy to comprehend the necessity for every person in that conflict to pounce upon whatever advantage presented itself. Do you now understand how my lack of initiative brought about so much more needless destruction?"

"What you perceived from the ridge has not been determined," snapped Fearfaron in frustration. {Why must he persist in this self-accusation?}

"Where is Maltahondo?" demanded Iarwain. "He has yet to utter a word of what his insight revealed that day."

At this point the warriors shifted about uncomfortably and grumbled ominously among themselves. No one spoke openly against the corpsman yet the mood among the soldiers was obviously less than conciliatory toward their comrade.

Perplexed by the absence of this crucial witness, the citizens became agitated again. Everyone craned their heads and peered around one another's shoulders to catch a glimpse of the effect this new wrinkle might produce upon the principals involved in the hearing.

"It does not matter what Lego… Tirno observed nor what Maltahondo discerned," Talagan nearly spoke the outcast's name aloud, something only Fearfaron, Lindalcon, and Mithrandir had publicly dared since the Judgement. "Neither of them had the authority to over-ride my decisions that day. It is not necessary for the corpsman to be here in order to clear our Tawarwaith of unjust condemnation."

"Perhaps not, but I for one would like to know what occurred that day," said Iarwain.

"As would I!" Thranduil stated.

"It matters not! What transpired has already been told; the Lost Warriors must remain our focus here!" blurted Legolas, alarmed for this to be stirred up once more just when he thought it was all settled. "No solution will come from hearing more talk; my actions alone can release them."

"Nay, Legolas, in this you are wrong," said Lindalcon in anguished and sombre timbre. "Every night for these last seventeen years I have dreamed of the Battle of Erebor. Over and over I must witness my Adar's death! His message to me is clear: no peace shall he enjoy until the truth of Erebor is revealed. Indeed, no peace shall I have either. Not only the warriors need release!"

"Gwador dithen! [Little brother]" exhaled Legolas and moved at once to take Lindalcon into his embrace. "Aliston! Boe anle trenared nin. [I did not know! You should have told me.]" He pressed his forehead against the younger elf's as Valtamar's son shook his head.

"Avaniron le isto. Avaniron echedi anle prestad. [I did not want you to know. I did not want to make trouble for you.]"

Fearfaron sighed and went to comfort them both, one arm around each as he pulled them near his heart, whispering a hasty prayer to the Powers for solace upon his charges. Another heavy breath escaped his lungs and he looked toward Talagan. "Where is the guardsman?"

Uncomfortable silence ensued. Other than the warriors and the healer, only Aragorn and Erestor knew what had befallen the deceitful soldier; none of them wanted to speak up.

And though he was glad not to have to face his former lover or hear the once-beloved voice speak words that would blame him, Legolas was also puzzled and worried over the warrior's absence. The fallen archer had been so uncomfortably aware of Malthen's leering stare all through the morning that he was amazed not to have instantly noted the lack of it when the Council resumed.

Thranduil grew impatient as he stared first at Talagan, then at Legolas, and finally at Erestor's untidy appearance. The King's face contracted into a suspicious scowl as the seneschal squared up his shoulders and smirked back.

"What is going on here?" demanded the King. "Tell me at once what has happened!"

"There is no need for alarm," Gladhadithen once again stepped in to defuse the smouldering atmosphere. "Maltahondo is indisposed. I came upon him in the barn corridor, unconscious. The soldier is currently within the house of healing under supervision."

Now the fact that two solid spearmen were monitoring the corpsman's recovery and simultaneously ensuring he did not attempt to flee a was was judiciously withheld by the worthy healer. Even so, many had caught the King's focus upon the Noldo, and a hearty whispering advanced through the crowd as to the nature of the guardsman's sudden illness.

The arched brows and incredulous expression in the Sinda Lord's eyes gave ample evidence that he would insist on a more thorough explanation than this.

Fearfaron, however, saw a promising opportunity, a respite from the Valar, ripe for retrieval and greedily the spirit hunter plucked it from the possible and made it reality.

"This trial cannot proceed without such an important participant's input, Councillor Iarwain," he said with barely repressed jubilation. "I request we adjourn the hearing until such time as Gladhadithen proclaims Maltahondo fit to appear!"

"Indeed, nothing further can be learned until his tale is told," added Mithrandir. "I agree with Fearfaron; we should re-open the trial when the corpsman is able to speak."

"So noted," Fêrlass hastily added before the King could speak the questions obviously forming in his sceptical mind.

Thranduil scowled at his councillors but held his tongue.

The elders conferred together a second or two before Iarwain faced the assembly.

"It is decided. The Council will cease until the healer releases Maltahondo from the house of healing," he said.

"Let all return to their homes until the hea reo reopens! Gladhadithen, we leave it to your judgement and discretion as to when that time may be," concluded Fêrlass. Tbc

REVIEWS:

Aff.net

Kirameki: I am sorry for the delay! Thanks for a great review. Yes, Erestor is showing his true colours and Malthen his. No goblins were on the ridge, Mithrandir realised that the very day of the battle and said so, but no one was listening to him. Thranduil still has a thing or two to learn about Legolas, as this chapter shows, and until he knows what is going on with the warriors he better keep his head down. Thanks again! I will try to have another update sooner.

Sivan: Thank you! Sorry about the wait, I will try to get another chapter up sooner next time!

Calenharn Elflover: Oh I know! He is so determined to keep everything just as it is! I hope this chapter clears up most of that, no one else thinks this but him. Thank you for reviewing!

MorierBlackleaf: No, not in this story! Erestor wants another try at romancing the wild elf! You did not misunderstand; Galadriel and Celeborn agree Lorien is the best place for the trial, and I am certain Elrond wishes that also. Thranduil has not been consulted. HEHE! Glad you like the curses, I do have fun coming up with those. My beta and I laugh over them, too. Thanks for the review!

Ash: Thanks Ash! I thought it was time for Legolas to show Thranduil his is not a little elfling anymore. And Erestor is the perfect one to teach Malthen that Legolas is not alone and uncared for anymore. Aragorn was quite pleased with that too, for he has been wanting some payback but knew he did not stand a chance against an elven warrior.

ff.net:

Chloe Amethyst: thanks for a great review! Erestor does have his good points and I agree that he has come a long way in this story. How he will explain to Legolas this newest flare up of his chronic foot-in-mouth syndrome I do not know. But it will be interesting when it dawns on the seneschal that Legolas understands Quenya, too!

Yes, more possible reasons for who setolasolas up and why, but as you can guess I am not going to give much away so close to the ultimate revelation! It could have been any one of the alone or with Meril. More clues in this chapter!

Thranduil. Hard to imagine he could be that cold after seeing him fuss over little Taurant and come out all in a rage at the thought of someone doing the child harm. He needs to get that cleared up and fast or he will find himself ousted from the throne by the warriors. Somehow I think Thranduil, with all his faults, is a better leader than Talagan.

But you are right, Talagan has started to face facts. He has been singing the 'blame Legolas' song to spare his own career and protect his status. He has also felt a lot of guilt over the death of the warriors, one of whom was a cousin of his. He still has a ways to go before I can like him completely.

Ivorybrowneyes: Thanks for reviewing! Oh yes, Malthen deserved that and more! We are not through with him yet. And I thought it was time for Legolas to get bolder and show Thranduil he is not to be pushed around. You were right on top of it to be amazed about the lack of the guards' reactions, as I hope this chapter shows!

Jamie: thanks for a wonderful review! I am glad you approve of Erestor getting a second chance, I think he deserves one too. And Aragorn has a very forgiving heart, I feel.

Now you insight on Legolas and Erestor is excellent. They are very much the same in many ways, though the path Legolas was given regarding love and sex was so violent while Erestor's was gentle. I think Erestor would like to take Legolas away to Lorien to meet his lovers; he would not be against working out some sort of arrangement. Whether those two can accept this new addition to Erestor's life is still unclear. And I agree, Erestor knows what Legolas needs and he sees him not as a replacement for someone else, or a means to avenge injured pride, or a constant reminder of a wife's infidelity. Erestor sees him as Legolas is and likes what he sees very much. That attitude will be very healing indeed.

Yes, Talagan may be a bully, but he would not use another the way Malthen used Legolas. I think Malthen is in for a very big, unpleasant surprise. Would serve him right for Talagan to order him out on a solitary mission to spy on Dol Guldur, as Legolas has had to do for years and years, there to meet his end. The rest of the warriors feel just as strongly; children should be cherished and protected, needing it even more during the tumultuous changes of the onset of puberty, when Malthen took such unfair advantage of Legolas.

Yes, Thranduil no longer feels Legolas had any intention of being party to overthrowing his reign. He now believes Elrond and Iarwain are mixed up in it and might begin to suspect Talagan if his captain does not explain the new hostility from the soldiers! But you are right, the Wood Elves have been distracted from the reason for Erestor and Elrond to be snooping around Greenwood in the first place. Thranduil, however, has not forgotten.

More than anything, Thranduil wants very much to bring Elrond down publicly among so the rest of the elven realms will know how far from his noble image Elrond has sunk. However, Thranduil is likely to use Legolas in order to do this.

He did not bring up the letter because he no longer has it to show. Aragorn and Erestor have learned of it and Aragorn and Gandalf destroyed it, hoping to prevent the sordid truth from coming out. Thranduil would much rather have that hand-written document to condemn Elrond with, but he knows Galadriel and Celeborn will demand the truth from Erestor, Elrond, and Legolas anyway. That public interrogation will be humiliating enough, especially now that Erestor has sided with the wild elf. So, Thranduil is not too upset over the letter's destruction and tearing it up did not help things as much as Aragorn hoped it would.
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