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Feud	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 27185 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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Feud
www.feud.shadowess.com
by erobey, robey61@yahoo.com
Beta'd by Sarah AK, all remaining errors are my fault.

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.

Cared Dengwith (Making Answers)

"I am suspicious of your consort's involvement in the Tragedy of Erebor, that is true. Thus I am determined for the facts to be made absolutely clear for all to comprehend. Only in this way will doubts regarding the Tawarwaith's failings be laid to rest." So spoke Iarwain in mounting trepidation as he sat in rigid readiness upon a mended armchair before Thranduil's mutilated desk in the Sinda's private study, fully expecting to experience the wrath of the King at any moment. The fact that Talagan was standing behind him blocking the only exit added to his escalating apprehension.

The summons had arrived discreetly the previous tinnu; a small sealed note insinuated within the bulk of the evening's correspondence. Clearly Thranduil wished to ensure their discussion remained clandestine. This had at first given the Councillor a gloating upsurge of victory, for he had interpreted it as an indication of weakness, of capitulation. The loss of the soldier's support had shaken the King greatly; Iarwain had observed this himself. He was anticipating Thranduil's willingness to acknowledge that reduced degree of control and envisioned the monarch petitioning for assistance in salvaging his reign.

The assumption turned out to be inaccurate and instead of treating with the Sinda Lord catering to his vanity Iarwain faced the fearsome warrior reputed to have no compunction over stealing the souls of those that defied his commands. The ancient elda's premature swaggering had dissipated the moment the bolt on the thick oaken door had settled in the jam.

But Iarwain was not ready to give in for he felt right was on his side. He had thus boldly answered the King's abrupt and unexpected question: 'Are you planning to call forth Meril for questioning when the Council resumes'. He had thought his reply was rather clever, neither confirming nor denying the query, until the King's eyes snatched the conviction right out of his feä. The eldest elder held his breath and staunchly met the forbidding glare of Oropher's son, but nothing happened.

Silence filled every niche and chink in the available air as time spun out into what felt to be an Age yet was surely mere seconds.

Thranduil slowly sat back in his chair and the subtle creaking of the wooden frame seemed ear-splitting in the tombly quiescence of the small chamber. Steadily holding the Councillor's eyes, not a sound did he utter nor a muscle flex. He watched his quarry with all the concentration of a jaguar perched in the branches above a watering hole, assessing the prey at the water's edge below.

Iarwain shifted in his seat and made a throat clearing noise.

Behind him Talagan sniffed and scraped a booted foot upon the floor.

Thranduil might as well have been carved of stone.

"It is of the utmost importance for the welfare of my people that such flaws in character be publicly denounced and the perpetrators expelled from among us," Iarwain knew he was signing his own banishment decree as soon as this sentence left his lips and his frightened visage showed it.

The King's grey-blue orbs darkened and flashed dangerously yet still he did not speak.

"That is to say, should such errors be proved, for certainly Meril was not on the battlefield and could not have actually had a hand in the deeds themselves," the friend of Oromë tried to amend his pious yet injudicious pronouncement.

Thranduil permitted one refined eyebrow to arch the slightest bit.

"Nay, it is more a question of what she actually knew of the plan, and who her accomplice was. This would have to be one of the warriors, and certainly that must be cause for concern to your Majesty."

"The Greenwood's forces are solidly in support of our King and our Tawarwaith," corrected Talagan caustically.

The Elder cringed at the sudden quip from the threatening presence covering his escape and could verily feel the contempt in the warrior's gaze where it bore upon his back. He half-turned in his chair to favour the soldier with what he hoped was a stern non-verbal reprimand.

The captain's impassively blasé expression proclaimed the failure of the tactic.

"Even so, only someone present at Erebor could be at fault. If it is not Legolas then who is to blame?" Iarwain recovered his resolve; he was, after all, an elf that had accompanied Oromë on the hunt. For the entirety of his adult years he had been watching over the Nandor and was not about to relinquish the responsibility.

"What elf had reason to cause such a horrible thing? Who benefited by the death of those specific warriors?" he persisted, turning back to Thranduil. "One alone, and yet she was not even present. Meril was acquainted with all of the soldiers in Talagan's patrol and must have formed an alliance with one of them. Such a vile affiliation must be exposed and the participants held accountable."

The King played with a jewel-encrusted dagger he liked to use for sharpening quills, twirling it on its pointed tip so the gems winked and flashed in tiny bursts of coloured light. Thranduil smiled rather evilly, as if enjoying a detailed mental image of using it to dismember his current guest.

"There is no accomplice, for the mother of my children was not involved in these unfortunate events in any manner other than as one of the victims! I am shocked that your investigations have not verified this information already, Elder," he ridiculed. "As for the identity of the guilty party, it is not so hard to figure out. I have the culprit in custody even as we speak."

Iarwain's eyes boggled and his lips parted so that he looked rather more like a toad about to chirrup than an ancient and dignified elda.

"You…what…who is it?" he stammered amid Thranduil's foreboding chuckling, an unwholesome vocalisation destitute of mirth but overflowing with bitterness.

"The corpsman, Maltahondo, of course. There is more to him than one might expect and this is not the first dastardly act of which he is guilty. I encourage you to go and question him now so as to satisfy your need to 'root out the Shadow's corruption' of the good and noble Danwaith."

It was a dismissal, but the shocked Wood Elf did not register this for a second or two as he tried to assimilate the implications of the Sinda's words.

"Now," hissed Thranduil, leaning forward quickly and fisting the dagger. He jabbed it into the desk's surface so brutally that it remained perpendicular when he released his hold.

Iarwain paled and got up very slowly, never averting his eyes from the King's face, and backed to the door. It was opened for him by Talagan and the shaken Councillor gratefully fled the chamber.

The soldier slammed and secured the heavy oaken boards to ensure their privacy and took the vacated seat before his Lord.

"As you predicted, he is more malleable when separated from his cronies and cohorts," the warrior remarked.

"Aye, and without an audience. Now as long as the foul guardian holds to his word all shall be settled rather quickly. The resumption of the Council will be but a formal recitation for the peoples' benefit."

"Oh, Maltahondo will co-operate!" assured Talagan with a scowl. "The troops want his blood; Iarwain's sentence will be far more agreeable to him."

Thranduil considered this and hoped it would be so. How much he desired an end to this scandalous debacle! Only when the Tawarwaith's fateful Judgement was lifted would he feel able to breathe comfortably, for the squeezing sensation of impending doom lingered in his chest and tainted all thoughts of his beloved Taurant's life.

And only with this threat removed would he be free to concentrate on the arrival and subsequent disgrace of his long-time antagonist, Elrond, Lord of Imladris.

Still some small pleasures to look forward to.

The Sinda Lord had not been idle over the course of days following the close of the Council and his initial questioning of Meril. He had diligently pursued the truth of what had spawned the failure of Talagan's prized sniper at the Battle of Erebor, sparing neither his consort nor the incarcerated soldier from lengthy interrogation.

Maltahondo had cracked fairly quickly, readily admitting to any and every suggestion of guilt in the activities surrounding the falling rocks. He was perhaps influenced into expressing this voluble and all-encompassing contrition by the application of a resilient willow-wood cane upon his back. Thranduil cared not and a sneer curled his lips as he recalled the corpsman's weak will and total breakdown into pleading and begging after a scant day and a half of such treatment.

Legolas endured far worse tortures for twelve years under the chastisement of Ailinyéro. Thranduil recalled this with an unlikely combination of guilt and pride.

As for Meril, she had refused to accept any responsibility, holding to her story and naming Rochendil the murderer by proxy. How he had managed to bring about a rock slide at such an opportune moment she declined to explain, maintaining that since she was not there she was unable to provide any details. Thranduil had made it known to her he did not believe any of it and with genuine sorrow had pointed out the glaring holes in her rendition of the facts. Only silence and wide-eyed tears had met these revelations.

The King had pressed on, determined to have his wife bare her soul and trust him implicitly with the welfare of their children. He told her certain things about his life no one other than Talagan was privy to, and some deeds even his best friend was unaware had been wrought. Thranduil forced her into the basement and the Chamber of the Three Doors. He placed against her palm the key to his brothers' very feär. She had wept in terror as he explained the object's significance.

But even this had not moved her to open her heart. Thranduil could not see how this would appear as a threat, a promise of her own fate should her culpability be proved. She passionately denied her part was anything more than that of seizing an opportunity cast within her grasp. With her husband Lost and a child to raise alone, what elleth would not take advantage of such fortuity? It was no more unjust than exploiting a vein of mithril discovered within a wall of lead.

Meril refused to confess that she had wilfully withheld knowledge from her first husband that surely would have made him wary at the very least. She declined to admit she had owed Rochendil's mate the courtesy of reporting the horse-master's intent to his superior. Meril was adamant in eschewing her dishonourable usurpation of Ningloriel's place among the Danwaith, or her use of the Queen's own son as the vehicle to achieve her elevation of station and rank.

Her obstinate concealment of the truth had hollowed out Thranduil's feä and his love withered up, cut off from the sustaining roots of trust and hope in her that had so rejuvenated his spirit and filled his heart with joy. There was nothing left for him to do except inform her of what would take place and how she was expected to behave. He had moved out of their apartment and re-occupied his old bachelor quarters.

That had been two days ago, while Celeborn was setting forth from Lorien and the twins approached the footbridge over the Rhossoll (Rustling Stream) with the Galadhrim. Now it was the fourth dawn since the close of the Council, and the Lord of Imladris would be departing his borders for Lorien while the Lord of the Golden Wood was about to enter under the eaves of the Wood Elves' Realm at the Forest Gate.

The Sinda Lord planned for the hearing to reconvene on the morrow, for the sooner it was all settled the quicker would peace return to his stronghold. The strain due to the contention between Thranduil and Meril was telling on the infant prince. His bouts of woeful tears continued and Taurant was only at peace when one of them held him close. His sister was not spared either.

Gwilwileth had lost her bright and bubbly smile and no longer made her little word jokes. She had at least ceased the hysterical crying that had so alarmed her father and grew accustomed to her baby brother's distress. The princess accepted the fact that her mother and father must spend every moment attempting to console their son. Neither time nor energy remained for her. She had become a solemn and silent child.

Less than ten years after Ningloriel's departure and the heavy weight of suppressed anger, tension, and distrust that had marked her reign had returned to infect Thranduil's perfect world. The King could imagine her in Valinor plotting with Vairë to ensure his ruin, exacting vengeance for her displacement from power and on behalf her shunned and disgraced elfling.

How bizarre! She was unfaithful and spoiled, selfish and neglectful as a mother, but she did not lie! In all the arguments we had, she never actually denied her affair with Elrond, only that Legolas was his progeny. Valar, what a mind!

Thranduil sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily to help expunge his dark thoughts, returning from his ruminations to respond to his captain's remarks. It was true; the punishment the Council was likely to impose upon the guardsman was nothing in comparison to that which his abuses warranted.

"And remarkably lighter than the one pronounced for Tirno," added Thranduil aloud. "Why do you suppose that is? Did the old politician want a means to undermine the stability of my reign? Iarwain and his Council were rather quick to confirm the Judgement imposed upon the field of battle."

"Aye," Talagan agreed. "The Judgement was our doing, mellon vrûn (old friend) and the worthy Elder just went along because he did not know what else to do, especially since it seemed to benefit his cause, as you say."

"And I did not stop to wonder at that, for his acquiescence fitted my designs well, too! Strange, how we both were so wrong. Neither of us foresaw the rise of the Tawarwaith from that grisly sentencing."

"Nay, and Iarwain has been as unsuccessful in harnessing this new power as have you in undermining it."

Thranduil scowled at this comment but let it pass; his captain was correct after all.

"Then you do not feel Iarwain is involved in any plot. I confess my instinct thus instructs me as well, yet there is still the possibility he was in collusion with someone." Thranduil massaged his jaw in perplexion. "How Elrond is linked to this I cannot see, other than to acknowledge he has had access to Maltahondo over the many centuries Ningloriel dragged the defiler along to Lorien." The idea had flickered through the King's brain that somehow the Noldo Lord and the corpsman were sharing both the faithless queen and her ill-fated child. A twinge of revulsion swept over him.

"I do not believe there was ever a plan to overthrow the rule your father established," Talagan noted his Lord's discomfort but surmised it was due to his long hatred of the Peredhel. "Elrond would not be accepted among the silvans and he could not know that Legolas had marched to Erebor, or even that Greenwood did so until after the fact," offered Talagan. "It is coincidental that these schemes ran in tandem with Legolas as the common focal point for all parties."

"Mayhap." Thranduil shrugged. "Yet without Erebor none of the rest would have happened." This gave the King less pause than it had Legolas when considering the conundrum of the good that was Taurant and Gwilwileth generated by the gruesome deaths of Valtamar, Andamaitë, and Annaldír. But then, Thranduil had never had much respect for the role of fate or faith in the ultimate harmony of Iluvatar's Music. "What is important is whether or not the Elder will accept the corpsman's confession. Maltahondo's motive for such a treasonous act is the weakest point in our compromise."

"True, yet if he sticks to it and refuses to name Meril then Iarwain cannot openly accuse her without appearing to be seeking some sort of retaliation for Legolas' benefit." Talagan agreed and shifted a bit uncomfortably, for his next words were unpalatable to him, and he knew Thranduil would dislike them with equal vehemence. "If necessary, we could reveal Maltahondo's abuse of the Tawarwaith. Wishing to destroy the only one with knowledge of his crimes, misdeeds that surely would condemn him to exile at the least, is certainly a strong enough inducement to betraying his fellows on the battlefield."

"That I would hold as a last resort." As expected, Thranduil grimaced and shook his head. "I feel an uncanny link between the destiny of my two youngest offspring and the welfare of the Tawarwaith, for without his disgrace never would they have come into being. I am certain he understood this connection long before the thought occurred to me," the King paused, recalling the magical quality of the Tawarwaith's blessing in song on the morning of Taurant's birth.

"Making this misuse of Tirno's heart and body general knowledge may be one blow too many. If he should fade, I dread the consequences to my legacy and Taurant's succession; indeed, to my innocent children's very lives.

"Nay, our goal must be to minimise further distress to the Greenwood's champion, for I have been granted insight into this affinity between the outcast warrior and the nascent prince. I will not permit past errors to manifest upon my true heir's future."

Talagan merely nodded, though he had doubts as to whether the plan as it stood would prove less afflicting to Legolas than revelation of the truth. Yet the King's attitude was a turnabout the captain would fain encourage, having no wish to see Thranduil return to virulent hostility for Tirno. He wondered if his old friend would acknowledge the Tawarwaith openly, but dared not ask.

As for Taurant being the legitimate successor, this none would contest, for Ningloriel had nullified her son's claim by rescinding her bond of matrimony to Thranduil. Mayhap she truly believed Elrond was his father and would claim Legolas. The irony of this thought, in light of the Elf Lord's actions, was galling. Talagan sighed.

"Will you tell Tirno of the arrangements?" he queried.

"That would be difficult," Thranduil's expression reflected his disapproval and disgust, "as he has been whisked away to the bonding night talan by his perverted Noldo lover, incited and assisted by the healer and Meril's eldest."

"This I have heard also," the warrior said as a huge grin spread over his features. "Yet I have also learned the couple will be emerging today. Perhaps this information would be a fitting gift to mark Tirno's new status."

"Are you suggesting," Thranduil spoke in cool tones bearing the heat of warning, "that I go calling on the elf I have denounced and despised all of his days? What makes you think such a visit would be welcomed? He abhors even the dirt I tread over!"

"Hmph!" the King's trusted colleague snorted, undaunted by the threatening undercurrent swirling round Thranduil's words. "What you mean is you will not admit to fault in the situation."

"I am not the one to blame!" thundered the Sinda as he stood and leaned over his desk, palms pressed hard against the scarred surface. "Look across the Hithaeglir to Imladris for the cause of Tirno's disgrace. Or if you need someone closer to criticise, then Ningloriel bears at least as much of the burden as does Elrond. But for her infidelity, none of his deceits would have had any impact!

"Aye, I believed her not for all her protestations that I had sired the whelp. Yet, and I charge you to answer honestly, Talagan; could you have remained immune to the evidence that named the child the Noldo's bastard? You are bonded, though your mate has passed to Mandos; would you hold your tongue and squelch your ire, accepting a son not of your seed if she brazenly presented him to you?"

Talagan was silent, for this was a hard question. It was easy to point to Thranduil and condemn his opprobrious disregard for the elfling growing up in his shadow. His reactions had not been so unexpected given the humiliation Ningloriel's adultery promoted, and the captain probably would have responded much more violently were he in the same situation. The loyal soldier shook his head in dismay.

"Nay, I would not. Indeed, it mattered little enough to me who the Tawarwaith's father was and still I readily sanctioned the Noldo Lord's lie. I am as much at fault as anyone regarding the derision and scorn Legolas was subjected to over the course of his young years." Truthfully, few among the Sindar had believed their Lord fathered the child. And our conduct toward Tirno reflected that plainly. With this Talagan came to a decision.

"I will go pay my respects to the newly bonded couple," he announced purposefully, "and I will carry the news of the pending dismissal of all charges and their accompanying punishments." He smiled as he stared into Thranduil's amazed countenance. "And, as an extra token of goodwill, I think I might present Legolas and Erestor with a bottle or two of Dorwinion!" The warrior rose, chuckling over the look on his Lord's features.

"You could tag along," he jibed as he hastened toward the portal and slid back the bolt, "The word about the city is there is to be a grand Mereth Bardolel; I am sure I could sneak you in undetected." He was out the door and shut it with a resounding crash, thus muffling the solid thunk and twang of a dagger embedding in the planks on the interior side of the barrier.

The captain of the King's forces went straight away into the cellars and searched among the collected containers for the best year, the richest flavoured harvest of the prized wine. Third Age 2890, there! He triumphantly found the hidden stash, which was dwindling over time, and chose two bottles. Talagan felt almost giddy with delight as he left the dark, dry and dingy confines beneath the pantries and leaped up the stone steps into the kitchens.

From there he strolled outside and through the gardens, coming upon the main entrance to the Chamber of Starlight and immediately was forced to stop, stunned to find himself amid a billowing and discontented sea of elves murmuring and arguing one to another. Talagan spotted the wizards and their human friend exiting from under the graceful colonnade and noted they were also brought up short by the crowd. Indeed, as soon as they were sighted the throng converged in vocal anger upon them.

"Where is he?"

"Aye, bring the scoundrel out; he will not slink off to his distant lands unscathed!"

"How could you allow this, Aiwendil?"

"You have betrayed our Tawarwaith into the hands of a…a…common gigolo!"

These were among the shouts resounding through the courtyard and Talagan could only stare with gaping jaws as the Istari attempted to calm the mob.

"Peace, my good elves!" Aiwendil uplifted his arms, beech wood staff in hand, and entreated. "I am ever Legolas' friend! Of what do you speak?"

"That Noldo Lord!"

"Noldo scum, more like!" These announcements were met with hissing agreement from the crowd.

"Wait, what has happened?" Aragorn asked in worried tones.

"Yes, I thought all were in favour of the bonding of the couple. What has changed your opinions?" demanded Mithrandir, dreading to hear what he most feared had occurred, even though he could not believe it possible after witnessing the seneschal's urgent attempt to heal the soul-shattered Wood Elf.

"Our Tawarwaith fled the bonding talan in bitter tears, racing for his foster father!" one voice shouted.

"Aye, this I witnessed with my own eyes!" another averred.

"He was alone!" a third emphasised.

The Maiar exchanged glances with each other and the Man and all three felt their hearts sink in spite of their earlier convictions of faith in Erestor.

"Where is that betrayer? We will not permit him to abandon Tirno!"

"Peace!" shouted Radagast once more. "Erestor is not in the stronghold. I vow to you, he has not left the bonding talan or your Tawarwaith. There must be some other explanation!"

"And what might that be?" a bitter female voice demanded.

Now the trio of outlanders shared their uncertainty once more, for they had no idea what was going on. However, the mood of the congregation was such that some valid answer must be given, or their Noldo friend would be facing dire consequences once he did emerge from the protection of the maze.

It was at this opportune moment that Lindalcon arrived, seeking the wizards and Aragorn to enlist their aid in lighting the bonfires. Immediately the crowd parted to let him through, shouting questions and demands in equal parts.

"Is Legolas alright?"

"Have you come for Mithrandir's aid again?"

"Speak, son of Valtamar, we have a right to know what is happening to our champion!"

Lindalcon was dumbfounded as these statements flowed around him and he was passed hand to hand toward Legolas' friends collected at the stronghold's entrance. The young elf could not help the upwelling pang of ungracious anger that suffused him, for among these were the elves who had so quickly sought to condemn his brother for taking the Noldor to his bed.

"By Manwë, what is wrong with you lot?" he shouted. "I cannot believe how your minds work!"

"Nay, we saw Tirno leaving the maze alone, young one!"

"Overwrought and shedding tears of woe!"

"Have you see him? Is he well?"

The youth could not remain angry in the face of genuine concern for Legolas' welfare and sighed, understanding their misinterpretation yet still aggravated by their lack of understanding of their champon's mannerisms and reactions.

"Ai! If you had ever bothered to notice anything about our Tirno said observations would have revealed that he does not weep when he is sorrowed; he tends to get rather violent when grief is upon him. Legolas only cries when he is overcome with joyous feelings," Lindalcon explained and the throng exhaled a collective and subdued exclamation of relieved comprehension.

Aragorn's brows shot up, for this was very true and he should have realised it himself, having been on the receiving end of just such a virulent response not so long ago. He shared a sheepish smile with Gandalf who mimicked it and shrugged.

"He was alone because I stole all his clothes," the younger brother continued. "So Erestor lent Legolas his in order to run home and fetch other apparel. With appropriate modesty, the Noldo refused to come forth at that specific moment."

Light twitters of laughter flitted about among the group and bright smiles transformed the elves' faces. This was a classic example of brotherly jests on such an occasion taken to a heightened degree of perfection. There was quite a bit of excited speculation on exactly what methods the youth had employed in the venture and what he had witnessed in the process.

"Now how did you manage to make off with all the garments unseen?" Came the predictable query, but the source of the question startled Lindalcon as he turned to face Talagan.

He paused uneasily a moment and turned to Aragorn for guidance. A slight nod and reassuring smile let the younger brother know it was all right to speak to this elf, regarded as the chief perpetrator of Legolas' horrendous fate. This was the one who had pronounced the battlefield Judgement. Had Talagan handled things differently, the Tawarwaith would never have endured the grisly years of tormented despair and wrenching remorse, isolated and abandoned. Legolas has pardoned him, how can I not? Valtamar's son inhaled a deep breath to calm his displeasure.

"That is something the Tawarwaith and his mate will be asked to explain, once a sufficient crowd has gathered," he chortled and boisterous agreement filled the air. He gazed upon the mob with amazed interest and felt the surge in his blood that accompanied the ability to hold so great a multitude at one's command.

They await my every word and respond as I instruct!

Now Lindalcon was not one to miss an opportunity to cause his new law brother a bit of discomfort and this amiable congregation offered a fitting vehicle for a stunning prank that would set the standard for all other bonding rite jokes for millennia to come. A rather wicked grin spread across his features.

"Oh dear," said Aiwendil, "exactly what does that expression forebode, young Lindalcon?"

continued.

Reviews:

Jasmine: Thank you! I am glad the lighter touch was appreciated and hope the exams went well!

Thalionwen: You are very kind! I have enjoyed writing these chapters and giving Legolas a taste of normalcy. The idea of reclaiming that glen is important for as you say all of the wood elves are trying to reclaim Legolas as their own. From nothing to an overabundance of goodwill, Tirno will be a fountain of tears! Lindalcon (that was right, by the way!) has grown a lot over the story and perhaps he will soon be able to let his father go. He and Legolas needed each other very much. Thank you so much for the compliments and I am sorry it is taking so long to post these days!

Sarah: Well you are biased but I don't care! Thank you! The story would not be as rich and full without the help you lend and the inspiration to make things at least partially good comes from your writing, as you know! Thank you again for all you do!

Lesse: Well I thank you very much! I am glad you reviewed and that you are enjoying the story. I never thought about someone checking the reviews before reading but you make a good point. Thus thank you for the recommendation also! I hope I continue to hold your interest.

Frances Rolfe: Ah, I am now so pleased I decided to let those two bond, for many folks have responded so positively, as have you! You are correct in your assessment of Elrond's emotions, it is not love he feels but just the desire to control and manipulate someone. Thank you for your support and those wonderful compliments!

Belty: Thank you for the review! Oh, I am sorry the updates have been slower, I am having trouble getting back on track. I know Legolas has been having a grand time lately, but your patience will be rewarded soon. This chapter is just positioning so we know where everyone is right now, sorry but I kind of need that before I jump into the next big swing in the story. The angst shall return, mayhem and despair and pain, all still on the horizon for many. Thank you for sticking with me!
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Feud