Hi! Just one thing. There's a herb mentioned here called dangwath. Well, since I kind of got unoriginal, I decided to take that from one of my favorite fanfiction authors, one you probably know...daw the minstrel! So, the herb goes to her! But I changed some things there and there.

Oh yeah, and sappy romance ahead. Sorry.

Chapter 17

[BEGIN FLASHBACK]

"Ha! That's funny, but I don't think I could really run away..."

The cheeky teenage elf with the tousled blond hair and sweet smile laughed in response, leaning back and lying against the grass, two hands behind his head serving as a pillow. He'd just been back from a long training session and he had exited from his usual formal outlook. His casual shirt was unbuttoned, his breeches pulled until his knees, his feet barefoot and basically smelling of sweat and dirt.

"Aww come on darling, I'm sure it'd be just fun," he grinned, teasing her as he poked the sitting elleth next to him in the belly. "No rules, no adults, no...ugh, no stuffy collars to wear during overly boring fancy ceremonies!"

The elleth only smiled, giggling bashfully. She was pretty beautiful, with hay-like blonde hair and glowing green-blue eyes, like the ocean waves in the sea. And even in a simple hand-me-down hide and trousers, worn slippers, along with a small lissuin on her fair hair (a purple-ish flower that had a fragrance that could put the heart at ease), she still stood out amongst other ellyths.

"Don't be silly," she simply said.

"No, I'm serious! Very serious," he said enthusiastically, winking to her at the end. Suddenly, he got up and sat up with energy, grabbing her hands. That visionary light that shone on his blue eyes, the one that she loved fervently, was brighter than ever, perhaps even more than the Mariner itself. "Just imagine that life. Can you do that?"

"You mean spending the rest of my life as a smelly old wanderer living with an idiot while traveling throughout Middle-Earth in my weatherworn clothes while I depend on tea and flowers to earn my living?" she joked gently. "Yes, sure."

"No...I mean freedom! And I'm not just an idiot, I'm an adorable one. Anyways, imagine that sort of life, full of freedom and adventure! We could live together you know. Far, far away from here, from the dangers of the spiders and the orcs. We could travel across Middle-Earth having adventures and killing orcs in the way, become legendary heroes! We could go to far places, meet people we've never met, see things we've never seen...and then we could settle down. A cottage by the sea! I rather like that. We could have two elflings, a boy and a girl to be fair, and we could play in the beaches in daylight and watch the Mariner and the other stars in the night sky while eating fresh bread. No one would tell us how we should be...we could just be us."

"That's a big dream," smirked the elleth. "A big dream, for such a small mind."

"Aww, come on Ily, it's not about the size but the capacity...and mine's infinite," said the elf back arrogantly. Then he sighed. "Besides, I don't think anybody in my family would mind. After all, mother is pregnant and she barely bothers to think about me anyways these days, always worrying about the new baby. Father is too absorbed in his duties in the first place, and he's too busy making plans with mother."

"Well, it's a baby. It obviously needs special attention," Ily said gently, a soothing hand on his overly stressed shoulder. "Your parents have a good reason to put their attention for you aside for a while. You know, they still love you. They just want this baby and your mother to feel safe, healthy and welcome when it arrives. Besides, it'll do you some good. Too much attention has inflated your ego too much."

"I appreciate your so constant support for me," he said rolling his eyes, scoffing.

"Oh, you know I'll always love you Thalos," she smirked once more, lovingly kissing him lightly in one of his sharp cheekbones.

"I do too, Ily."

[END FLASHBACK]

"-Golug azuzuta."

The orc messenger silently watched as his master grumbled in annoyance. The messenger looked emotionless to many but in the inside he was shaking. His death could be determined any time. He watched slowly as the silhouette of his master, the one he could only see because of the few candles that lit the inside of the otherwise pitch black room, stood up and her slim and slender form walked towards him, stopping to stand a few inches away from him.

"So the elves killed him, huh?" she replied, speaking in the Black Tongue as fluently as he. "Well...what a shame, he showed much potential. I would have let him rule my armies, but then, he's one less problem I will deal with. He was way too arrogant, too confident."

"D-Do I set scouts t-to delay the siege party, my queen?" asked the messenger.

"No...we burn Mirkwood to the ground!" she hissed, glaring at him. "What on Mordor brought you such an idea? That I would just stop my army because some elves managed to kill one of my whimsical officers? NO! I will gain my revenge, even if it floods Mirkwood with red and black blood...I will sit in that throne and kill the Elvenking's family, one by one, and watch him crumble to dust as I wear his crown. Let see who smiles then!"

The orc messenger nodded in understanding. "But my lady...do you not want to know who killed Bulgan? Some of his scouts escaped during the first attack and survived to tell me the tale."

"First attack?" she hissed. "Speak, what do you mean?"

The messenger cleared his throat and started. "Apparently, there were two attacks. The first one was lead by three strangers, or so it was told. They were armed with explosives and burned most of the camp down to the ground and killing most of the orcs. However, they were soon overwhelmed. One of them was felled and the other escaped, but one was captured. A son of Mirkwood, of the royal strain. The youngest, in fact, a blond-haired elf with the King's eyes."

She growled, her fingers impatiently wrapping around the hilt of her sword so tightly the knuckles had grown white. Her anger was boiling like a tea kettle and she might as well be letting out steam from her ears. "Why was I not told of this?"

"I-I know not, my lady. I am only a messenger," said the orc messenger hesitantly. "Anyways, the second attack was lead by two elves. Since the camp was severely weakened and most of the orcs were injured, they easily swept through them and killed them all. They killed Bulgan and...they escaped with the captive, the son of Mirkwood."

The female figure locked her dark beady eyes with the orc's. She was furious. Her usually pale fair skin was glowing red, just as her eyes, which were turning dangerously bright, with the usual maniacal light that lit them. "GET ME MY GENERALS! I am summoning them for a meeting."

"A-All five of them, master?" he asked, careful to not say 'mistress.' The orc messenger knew his master didn't like being separated by her gender and that she was infuriated when anybody made that mistake of underestimating her. They all knew what'd happened to the last messenger who'd forgotten that...

"I said MY GENERALS, you miserable good-for-nothing scum!" she hissed angrily, pointing one long finger at him. "ARE YOU DEAF? Because I might know a better use of your ears!"

"N-No master, I will go by your leave," said the orc nodding awkwardly and quickly skittering off, slipping out of her dark room from the door, ready to issue her order.

She grunted, sliding deeper into her makeshift throne. Then, she shook her head by the uncomfortable position and stood up, heading towards one of the curtains tha covered her windows. She hated light, but tonight she felt she needed to see it. Opening the window carefully, she poked her head out the tower. In the very distance, just a speck of dark green, she hissed malevolently, a hostile grin on her lips. She flashed a glare to the very place and suddenly felt very smug for what she was about to do. Her revenge was finally here!

"I'll kill you, Thalos Thranduilion. You will suffer like I did and you will watch your family and your kingdom come down to ruins. By the time I'm done, you will beg to join them! Your father, then your brother, then your sister...just like it was done to me."

[BEGIN FLASHBACK]

"Argh, this is worse than mother's sewing circle! Those ladies seem to have been born out of their mothers' bellies with a needle and thread in hand!" said Thalos in exasperation, dumping his wobbly, uneven-looking flower garland in the grass next to him.

Ily rolled her eyes and smiled, lowering gently her perfect elanor garland and picking up his niphredil one, flawlessly using her technique to repair some of the damages he'd done to it. "Well, one needs a lot of practice and experience to master something. You might be a fast learner, but such arts cannot be merely learned by seeing and doing. You need to repeat the process over and over again, until you've also mastered patience."

Thalos sighed, lying down against the green grass of the meadow he and Ily had always agreed to secretly meet in. It was one of the only safe places in Mirkwood, one where the threat of spiders and orcs did not yet discover, where pure green trees still bloomed and even some flowers.

"Patience is a jerk with me," the prince sighed.

"It is to everyone," agreed Ily, handing the prince back a fully repaired garland.

"I know...but still. Anyways, who taught you how to make these things? Your sister?" asked Thalos. He frowned as he watched his lover cringe inwardly but then continue to make another garland as if she wasn't bothered at all, weaving and combining some roses and daffodils together.

Gently, she softly replied with a simple, "Yes."

He felt slightly guilty for doing what he was going to do, but he couldn't help it. He was curious and all of this had a very suspicious air to it. He pressed her on, trying to seem casual and relaxed. "Well, she must be really good then. I've seen some of your displays in the shop. Your sister's arrangements are so beautiful. Even Mother says she enjoys them, and she's a very picky person."

"I'm glad the Queen enjoys our work," Ily said seriously and dryly, with an almost miserable tone. Something was definitely wrong. This wasn't the sun-kissed, laughing elleth he knew. This was somebody else, somebody he'd never seen before.

"Yes, she enjoys it and so does everybody else, it seems," he stated. "Something bothers you Ily, what is wrong with you? What ails you? Are you not proud of your sister and what your family does?"

There it was. That cringe again. Ily shuddered slightly but then looked up to flash Thalos a fake, half-hearted smile. "I-It's all right. And I am proud of what we do, but sometimes...sometimes I just doubt our family business."

"What? Why? Your flower shop is one of the most famous in all of Mirkwood. It seems your arrangements are most popular, especially among some of the nobles. You...You should be proud," he said, feeling slightly confused.

She sighed, "And I am. But...you wouldn't understand, Thalos."

"Why?" he frowned. Something serious was going on. He suddenly sat up and clutched her hands, putting her agile ones inside his callused ones. "Ily, you know you can tell me anything. Anything. I will always be right here to help you. You know you can trust me."

Ily sighed, looking away as if extremely troubled and unable to decide and after a shake of her head, she looked back at Thalos, her green-blue eyes glassy. "Do-Do you promise you can keep a secret?"

"Of course! You know I can."

"Well..." the blonde-haired elleth sighed. "The shop isn't only famous for its flowers. Its true fame really comes out of something else."

"Hmm?" frowned Thalos.

Ily took a deep breath and looked at Thalos with soft, guilty eyes. "Dangwath."

Thalos looked at her, frowning. He leaned back, letting go of her hands gently and then looked out at the sky, deep in thought. Then, suddenly, he twisted his head and looked back at her, his gray eyes wide. "B-But that's a weed."

"Indeed it is."

"I-It's a weed," Thalos repeated again incredulously. "I-It's a weed. A weed! I mean a weed is a weed but this weed...is unlike any weed! It's...weed. It's a weed!"

Ily sighed in annoyance. The prince was obviously not taking this in easily. "I know it's a weed. My family has been selling it for centuries!"

Thalos looked at her, still unable to utter a non-repeating sentence. "B-But...it's a weed!"

The prince's lover felt the urge to hit herself against a wall. "I know."

"No you don't understand, it's a weed! Like...a really dangerous one," said Thalos frantically. "Dangwath is one of Mirkwood's most deadly weeds. And WAIT! It's illegal! My father banned it centuries ago...I was there! I might have been a toddler but I always remember these sorts of important things. Ily, do you know in how much trouble your family could be in if someone finds out?"

She grimaced. "But you're not going to tell anyone?"

"No, I promise, but...are you sure about this Ily? Why do you need to do this in order to be successful?" asked Thalos. "You know the consequences of getting caught."

"You don't understand. We're helping the people," said Ily. "My sister is a skilled acupuncturist and herbalist. She herself administers the proper amount of dangwath into a person once they purchase it. You have to know that dangwath isn't actually doing any damage to them. It's helping them. Do you know how many elves come back from fighting and from their patrols, tainted with guilt and the darkness? Dangwath soothes those pains-"

"Soothes?" Thalos stood up, his eyes widened in frustration. "Ily, it's a weed! Of course it's soothing. It causes illusions and messes with your mind! Even if your sister administers the first dose to them, they will continue having it because it is so addictive! They will take wild amounts and you know what? An overdose or a surplus of the weed...WILL KILL THEM!"

"Thalos, you need to calm down."

"I can't calm down! I just found out my girlfriend is selling illegal weed! And that she could be potentially killed because of treason or locked forever in the dungeons if she's ever caught," exclaimed Thalos, waving his arms around and clutching his head, as if in a deep headache. "Can I calm down? No!"

"Not so loud," she hissed. Then she sighed, picking up the flower garlands and stood up. "I trust you not to tell this secret, Thalos. This is between you and me, all right? But...I think you're taking this too harshly. Go home and calm down. We will speak another day."

He looked at her, almost dazed and then he sighed, nodding repeatedly. "Y-Yes. Yes, yes...you're right. You're absolutely right. I-I really need to think this through. Goodbye Ily, I'll see you soon."

Then, leaving a confused elleth behind, he stalked away.

[END FLASHBACK]

"Master?"

Quickly, she shut the curtains and let darkness engulfed them once more. Cursing herself for not being careful, she harrumphed and went back to her makeshift throne. Sliding into a smug sitting position, she leaned her head back and flashed all her five high commanders a look. She turned her gaze to the one that had spoken. Kapash, Commander of the Commando, her elite fighting force, full of the strongest and highest ranking Uruk Hai in her armies.

"Yes?" she snapped.

"Does this one have permission to speak?"

"He does. Speak."

Kapash cleared his throat, making an extremely disgusting animal-like sound. She resisted the urge to slit his throat right there...but she couldn't risk it. It was hard to find such a loyal strong commander like Kapash. "The messenger says that you requested a meeting. For what for, my master? The army is heading over there and it is going on smoothly. There have been no interventions. The siege will start early morning the day after tomorrow and by the time afternoon comes, the name of that filthy elf kingdom will have been erased forever."

"I know...but there is another matter I wish to speak of," she hissed. "Bulgan. He is dead."

Kapash showed no emotion, but she could tell he was surprised. His eyes dilated, squinting at her with those ugly pale yellow-ish hues. "He is. That is not expected. I trained him myself. He was my best pupil."

"Well he is...and you know what? They took something I wanted. The elves that killed him, I mean," she said and stood up, walking toward the neat row of commanders. "A pretty elf, a son of Mirkwood. You all know my eternal hate for them, right? Well Kapash...it turns out your 'best pupil' has betrayed me. I have been searching for the royal strain of Mirkwood for a long time and yet he does not contact me when one finally reaches his hand. Why is that?"

"I-I do not know," said the Uruk-Hai commander harshly. "I taught him otherwise, my master."

"Well, I do not want for it to happen again," she growled. "Your Commando force, your elite 600 Uruk-Hai...I want all of them sent over there to the siege. They will accompany the main battalion to battle and you will lead them."

"It would be my honor," said Kapash nodding.

She looked at him and glared. "Killing is no honor, filth. Victory is. Killing is your duty and you will follow it. There is no feeling when you kill. It is nothing. Do not consider this as a prize, unless you want to end like Bulgan...because I can gladly give you that fate."

This time, he stayed silent.

"You will all ride with Kapash. And so will I," she continued. "We will not attack with the battalion but we will remain behind. I suspect the Mirkwood elves will not give up so easily. They are a stubborn race, with stubborn minds. It is until we drive a sword through their chests that they will finally realize their foolishness. I suspect they have some ploy behind our backs...the royal family are clever tacticians. They will not play cleanly, but neither will we."

"D-Does this one have permission to speak?" asked one of her commanders, Astrof. She always thought he was the more cowardly one. It was only because of his father that she'd allowed him to be her commander. His late father had been a good one, so she thought that maybe it ran in the family...it didn't.

"Yes, what?" she snapped.

"A-Are you sure you should go, my master? It would be best if you stayed behind and watched the remaining-"

"OH! So now you are advising me? How lovely, I seem to have gained another scholar in my midst," she said, her eyes flashing dangerously. "WHO ARE YOU, to be doubting my abilities?"

"I-I meant no offense, I-"

Too late for him, she thought. She hated people who stuttered. Standing right in front of him, before someone could even take a breath, she'd taken out her sword and beheaded him right in the throne room. The other commanders looked down in neutrality. Then she looked at them, punctuating every single word with an effortless stab through his limp chest.

"May this be a warning for all."

She turned to the messenger, who had stood there squirming, unsure if it was polite to stay or leave. Fortunately for him, staying had been the right choice. Quickly she said the following and then dismissed all of them.

"Tell Krethriol he has gotten a promotion. He will ride with us instead of this dead fool. Dispose of this body and push it into the pit. Prepare the fastest mounts you can muster," she hissed. "Then get me my armor. And no, don't bother cleaning it...when we get there, it will be dirty enough, with the rain of blood that we will summon there."

O-O-O

Estel awoke to the cold wind and a set of foreign growls.

Usually, he was a heavy sleeper and once he dropped down, he was as unconscious as dead. But then, he'd gone through a lot of things these past few weeks and he'd turned into a light one. As soon as he heard a crack and the crunch of leaves, he'd sat up grabbing his knife in a threatening position, trying to clear out his blurry, tired vision so to locate his enemy.

The camp was empty. He hissed inwardly as he thought. Had the elf abandoned him? It was likely he supposed. They didn't even know each other. However, after he quickly checked if his map was still on him and looked around, he shook his head in relief. There was no way. After all, the elf's horse and pack were still here in the camp and without them or the map, he couldn't have gone too far.

A gust of wind crashed into him and he started coughing and sneezing. He groaned. Had he caught a flu? This wasn't good. He turned to left and saw that the fire was also out, the ashes scorching the burnt wood with black. Estel sighed in annoyance. He had the best of luck, didn't he? Well, he didn't worry himself further. Maybe that's why the elf had left. To get some wood...that was normal, wasn't it?

Or was it?

He growled at himself, causing the elf's horse to look at him strangely, flare its nose as if ridiculing him and turning its attention back to eating grass. Estel tried to ignore it. He usually had a way with horses but this one didn't really seem to warm up to him. He shrugged it away though, some horses took more time than others.

Estel then paid his attention back to the growls he heard. Those could not be normal and then...he realized he'd heard them before.

He hissed. Wargs.

Suddenly, he wished he was back with the elf. At least he had seemed pretty mighty and even as vulnerable as he was, Estel was sure the elf could probably knock the lights out of the wargs with his bare hands. But the elf was gone, to do who knows what, and Estel was left alone to the mercy of who knows how many main question, though, was whether there were any riders on them.

Estel grumbled, grabbing a stick for support as he headed towards the horse to look for his knife. Had he mentioned that the elf had confiscated it from him after some initial talking? He didn't think so. He wrapped the warm cloth that had strangely been put on him while he'd slept around him and soon realized that with his sweat and grime combined, he smelled like old onions and rotten pie.

In other words: like a homeless old wanderer.

He reached the horse, who neighed suspiciously at him and looked at him defiantly when Estel was about to grab one of the bags the horse carried. With a large neigh, an awful lot of dust snorted out and Estel looked at the horse, sighing. This one wasn't going to be easy to tame.

"Hello there," he said. Because well...saying hello was always a decent way to start out. "Maybe you know me. I'm Estel. I'm the boy that well, your master tried to kill earlier. I'm not any danger though."

The horse neighed, snorting once more as if saying, Oh yeah, I know you. Fancy meeting you Estel, now... scat! I was almost about to enter my sacred beauty sleep.

"I know you're probably busy," he continued, while the horse shook his mane in agreement. "But I really need you to let me check through these bags. I'm trying to find my knife. Your master took it away from me, and I'm afraid there is something coming."

The horse looked at him, as if saying: Boy, you DE-LU-SIO-NAL!

"I know, I know. But I'm certain of this. It's not some sort of sickness or anything, I'm really sure the wargs are coming. I'm not sure how many though, or how strong they are, but I just know we could stand a better chance against them if I can get my knife to defend us," said Estel.

The horse looked at him, replying with another snort. He had a lot of those, it seemed. There is no we, little rascal. Boy, if one of those low-minded filths even comes close to me, I sure ain't going to take you with me when I get my behind out of here.

Estel scowled, fear cowering through him. This horse talk was all very interesting and all, but the growls and warg feet were heading closer, and if he didn't get that knife soon this conversation would perhaps not be finished.

"Look. I would love to continue talking to you, but I seriously need you to give me that knife," said Estel. He was then about to reach out to open the bag when suddenly, the horse's very saliva-filled mouth came closer and chomped his hand.

"Ouch!" stated Estel rubbing his injured right hand as he leaned against the stick for support, glaring furiously at the horse.

You got what you deserved, rascal boy who will never have hair better than I have. That was a no touch zone, neighed the horse back, ignoring the boy as he scooted slightly away and continued eating grass.

Estel sighed in annoyance but then suddenly, his spine chilled.

The wargs were here.

Turning around, he watched as three wargs came over from the hidden foliage of the trees, wielding some crooked hook-like blades. They growled at him, slime trailing down his mouth. Estel cursed, grabbing a rock and aiming at the orcs. Unfortunately, his throwing arm had just been chomped by a horse (which could also have rabies, lovely) and it still hurt some, so his aim was off and all of his three throws missed their targets by a wide arc.

Estel sighed closing his eyes as he gripped the map in his pocket. How many times had he seen this moment? How many times had he swore he was about to die before dying? How many times had he been in Mandos' door mat? But well then...it seemed he'd run out of luck.

Or had he?

Suddenly, the boy opened his eyes and heard the sound of silver. A discarded pile of dried wood put aside for a split moment, a silvery-haired figure had unsheathed two fighting blades as long as Estel's legs and had jumped - really, Estel saw it with his own eyes - over the horse and him, standing in front of the orcs, who shrieked. In a split second, the three orcs were dead and Estel's jaw hung open.

If Legolas was good, this elf was the master.

Seven more orcs trailed in at the same time, heading towards the elf simultaneously but the elf, since he was basically a bloody tornado, twirled like a top and with his blades, beheaded all seven before they could even raise their weapons.

Three more came from behind and with a swift turn of his body, he gracefully pierced through one of the orc's abdomen and struck his other blade into an orc's throat. With a strong thrust outwards, he plucked both blades out of their designated victims and chopped off the arms of the very afraid-looking third orc, just before he landed the final blow on him, landing two blades on his chest.

Suddenly an orc jumped on him from the opposite direction he was looking at. With lifeborn instincts, the elf threw one of the blades at him. The orc's dead corpse was then pinned against a tree trunk. But even armed with just one blade, he was still as deadly. He parried two blows from two orcs from two sides and then made a graceful swing, battling two orcs at the same time. After some initial struggle, he was eventually able to make his spinning move and make three deadly slices across their chests, killing them instantly. Then the last one came towards him, charging madly with an angry hiss. That was a mistake, since the elf was able to easily deflect the wild move and counterattack with one of his own, which beheaded the orc and left him slumped in the ground in seconds.

In just five minutes, the battle had been over.

"Scouts," the elf muttered in distate as he disgustedly wiped out the blood from his blades with a handkerchief he brought from his pocket. "Disgusting creatures, they are."

"T-That..." Estel trailed off, gaping at the elf who was frowning at him. "T-That was amazing! You-You just sliced them up like they were ham!"

"Pft, please. These dim-witted idiots never even stood a chance," snorted the elf. Putting his blades back into his sheath, his disgusted face then turned solemn. "But if they bring their friends, perhaps they will. We need to keep moving. These scouts must have been looking for you and the map. We are running out of time."

"Right," agreed Estel firmly. "Erm...but could you give me my knife first, please? I mean-"

"Fine," snorted the elf. He went into his bag and was about to take the knife out before the horse turned around and was about to chomp his hand, just like Estel's. However, unlike Estel, he hit the horse's temple, making it neigh in anger but slowly, it started to ignore him once more. He threw the knife to Estel, who caught it by the hilt. "Make yourself useful. Now get on the horse."

"I can walk."

"Yes, sure. And wargs can fly to Valinor. Get on the horse. You look hideous and dead on your feet. You won't even last five minutes."

"I appreciate the compliments," grumbled Estel as he was begrudgingly thrown unto the horse. It was strange without a saddle but he supposed he was used to it. After all, most horses in Imladris didn't have saddles and they only saddled them for him. "What about you though?"

"Me? I've done plenty of walking in my prime and last time I checked, I am still in it, and I will always be. Now, all you have to do is to close your mouth for the rest of the journey. We do not stop until we reach the borders of Mirkwood."

He walked ahead and as begrudgingly as Estel was, the horse followed from behind. The boy was about to open his mouth, but then thought against it and shut it close once more.

O-O-O

"R-Rest. Please."

Beluriel looked back. After running for some kilometers, the females both realized that they would get nowhere. With some money they'd brought and some things they'd sold, they got two mounts and had raced across Middle-Earth's stunning landscapes. If someone was to kill Beluriel that instant...she wouldn't mind. Seeing such beauty and living in such a great world compensated her for that.

She realized though, that people could get tired of riding, especially humans. After six or seven (had it really been so long? She'd only thought of it to be an hour or two), the woman had declared those two words, almost collapsing from her horse. With an awkward, ashamed frown on her lips, she helped the extremely tired woman down. Beluriel often forgot how riding had a harder toll on humans rather than elves.

"Sorry," she grumbled apologetically to the lady. "Time got a hold of me."

"I-It's all right," said Gilraen, gurgling as the cool water from one of their water skins and dumping it away once she'd drunk it dry. She wiped her lips and looked up at Beluriel, with a thin smile. "It's better this way. We'll find my son and your prince sooner this way. Besides, I haven't done such extensive horseback riding since my Arathorn died. It is very good practice. The training in your home must be rigorous."

Beluriel almost snorted. If only she knew. "It is, very. Anyways, I can see a meadow a few leagues from here. It looks like a good camping spot and it is in high ground. We will find rest there and then go on our journey."

Gilraen looked exhausted, but she wasn't discouraged. "That is good. How long will it take us to go there?"

"At maximum speed, no more than an hour or so, perhaps less if we're lucky. Do you think you can manage, my lady?" asked Beluriel.

"Y-Yes, but just give me a minute. I need to catch my breath," said the sweating royal lady. She sat down panting as Beluriel sat cross-legged next to her, drinking some water from her own canteen and munching a bit of lembas she'd packed with her, nibbling the corners. It wasn't good to ride with a heavy stomach. "That's all right."

Gilraen nodded at her response when suddenly, she questioned Beluriel. "May I ask something, Captain?"

"Anything."

"How...How is your King?"

Beluriel frowned, gently putting her canteen outside and looking at the lady. "What do you mean?"

"Is he fair, is he noble or wise, is he...I do not know," stated Gilraen. "A-And I mean no offense, but I am just nervous. Your prince sounds like a good one, from all you've told me but you've said nothing of your King. You are loyal to him, yes, but it does not seem that you love him."

"It is not that, my lady. It is just complicated."

"For now, I have time."

Beluriel sighed, and then started after much thought. "Well...it is not that I do not love him. It is that he does not request that of us. He expects us to respect and obey him, and so we do, for he does the same to us. We are Woodland elves. We are 'less wise, more dangerous.' We are survivors, for that is what we were taught to do to live, and so is our King. He is solemn, distrusting, often a bit greedy and ambitious, slightly unnerving and a bit selfish at times...yet what would you expect, after centuries of the worst kinds of pain imaginable? Would we really be as malicious as to only see his flaws? He is fiercely protective and is easily the best warrior in the realm. He stubbornly wishes to protect our Woods and our people from the darkness that is corrupting it.

"Perhaps he does not show it, but he loves us. He loves everything to do with his kingdom. He loves everything that grows inside of it and with it. He loves the families that live in it, loves the trees that once grew green but are now withering, loves from the tiniest towns to the largest of settlements, loves his soldiers dead or alive, loves his home despite that it is not the first, loves the animals, loves his deceased wife and his grown up children, and loves us...perhaps even more than his very own flesh and blood. In all, many get the wrong image of him. He is not a tyrant, or a dictator. He is our King. The problem, or his fatal flaw, about him isn't that he cares too little...it is that he cares too much."

She paused and looked at Gilraen. "Do not worry, my lady. From what I have heard, your young Estel is quite a delightful young fellow. Even if he isn't King, he will be a great man and as long as he has children and those children have more children, your line will be just as kind and noble, if not more than that. Now...are you ready for the ride?"

Gilraen sat there in silence, as if she were musing and thinking of something inside her head, until suddenly she stood up, some sort of strange energy inside her bursting out. She flashed the elleth a weak, yet enthusiastic smile.

"I have never been more ready, Captain."

O-O-O

"How are you doing, Dan?"

Elladan sighed, letting out a small whistle. "Have been better, but will do."

The older Elrondion twin sat on a large smooth rock, leaning against it as he heard the soothing sound of the river they had decided to post themselves next to. It was very small and probably only reached until his waist. Nevertheless, they had still deemed the water clean enough to use, which is why Elrohir was currently tiring himself out, running back and forth doing tasks while boiling some water.

Although Elladan had greatly argued, Elrohir had insisted he rest. After all, while Elrohir had helped him fight Bulgan and had probably been the reason Elladan was still alive, the older twin had still been the orc's main fighter. Therefore, he'd gained many more injuries than his brother. As soon as they'd seen the perfect place to camp, Elrohir had forced his older brother to rest and recover while he tended him and Legolas.

Elladan felt a bit guilty, watching as Elrohir made a small paste out of some crushed athellas leaves while tending some stew while he made some new bandages. He snorted inwardly though, shaking his head and convincing himself he was doing all right. Perhaps it was best for Elrohir to play healer for now. Only some knew it but Elrohir tended to be an over-achiever and was very proud and vain about his abilities, often getting very insulted if you commented on them in the wrong way. He was also a multi-tasker, and the more diligent student out of the twins, while Elladan was the better fighter.

After all, Elladan deserved this rest. Helping Elrohir carry Legolas for a league, his muscles had gotten very sore and where in dire need of rest. He'd taken a bath and had had some of the sweet-smelling mint-flavored salve rubbed on him, making him feel much better.

He whistled, getting his brother's attention and pointed to Legolas' limp body, that had been put on top of a makeshift wooden bed Elladan had helped build. "How is he doing?"

"Hmm..." Elrohir frowned, looking through his diagnosis again. "Well, a mild concussion, three broken ribs, some bruises and cuts and a dangerously deep wound in his leg, getting infected. Other than that though, he is fine."

"Ah, so the concussion explains why he is unconscious."

"Right, but I expect it will not be for long. He will wake soon, he just needs some rest and something to eat," said Elrohir, although he then bit the corner of his lower lip and frowned. "Although...I've just ran out of ingredients to make food for him. I only have athellas, and that's not very appetizing."

With a grunt, Elladan eagerly got off the rock. Time to become useful! Grabbing a nearby stick, he headed towards his younger brother. "I can go! I'll follow the river and try to find some roots and berries. You can even make some tea. You make killer tea, Ro."

"Don't be silly," said Elrohir scrunching his nose in worry. "Not in your state. You should be resting, not working. Your shoulder is especially wounded. You'll just wear it out. Don't try to play nurse with me."

"I'm not," hissed Elladan furiously. He hated being treated like this. "Come on brother, I'm bored out of my mind! Just let me go. It will give me something to do. Besides, you can't go. You need to stay here and take care of Legolas. You can't be at two places at once, right?"

Elrohir sighed, grumbling something about a stubborn brother. He shook his head. "FINE. But if you don't come back in ten minutes, I will go back for you and search for you until I drag your screaming hide back here."

"Will do!" exclaimed Elladan happily as he set off to find food, jumping throughout the landscape they'd camped in. He went up the hill and as he followed the signs of richer vegetation, he soon found himself in a wide, large meadow.

O-O-O

"We need to go to higher ground," ordered Aurell and for a split second, Haldir thought he was looking at King Thranduil itself.

Inwardly shuddering, he shook his head and his eyes saw the beautiful yet deadly-as-a-hornet's-nest daughter of Thranduil sitting at the edge of a trunk, pulling a large map against the earth and chewing the edge of one of her silvery blond hairs, her eyes scanning the paper in confusion and in deep concentration. Haldir was leaning in a tree opposite to her, watching the scene with remote interest, thoughts swirling in his mind.

"I agree, it would get us a better view of the landscape," he replied solemnly. "

"According to this topographic map I stole," she continued nodding. "There is a hill not so far away. There, I could climb to the trees and try to make a panoramic view of the land. Legolas and...who was it?"

"Estel."

"Yes, he and Legolas couldn't have gone far. Or at least, if they are injured, which is probably their case. After all, Legolas is with them," she stated. Then with one loud BANG, she rolled the map up and stuffed it in her pocket, looking at the Marchwarden with a determined glint in her eyes. "Let's go back to our mounts and hope they've replenished of their energy once more. It's going to be a long ride if we want to get there before dark."

Haldir smirked. "As my lady commands. She only has to keep up with me."

She raised a slender eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, Marchwarden?"

"Maybe, princess."

"Then it's on."

O-O-O

"That was quick."

"I know! And look, I found mushrooms!"

Elrohir grinned to himself at his brother's enthusiasm. He looked like a young child as he brought forth the basket of freshly picked mushrooms, roots and herbs. He had always been like that and that is one of the reasons why he had always admired him so. He was a natural leader, always positive and confident of himself and others. He held others with such high regard and almost always saw only the good in others.

He didn't want him to know that, though.

"It'll make very good stew," said Elrohir gratefully, nodding to him as his brother leaned against the flat stone he'd sat in a few minutes before. It was obvious the strenuous effort had made the pain resurface in his shoulder wound. That wasn't good. "You should rest, Dan."

"And you shouldn't?" his stubborn, pig-headed fool of a brother retorted with a snort.

"I'm not the one gravely injured," said Elrohir patiently. "But if you are so willing to be helpful today, come sit here and stir the stew while I go check on Legolas. You know the recipe, it is Arwen's favorite, the one she persuaded us to cook the day we came to Lórien."

How long was it since they'd left? It was probably just a couple of days, but it seemed more like weeks. They already missed its soothing pressence. The looming golden mallorn trees, the fresh mint-like scent, the misty magic-like aura surrounding Lórien, the almost surreal dwellings of the elves...and most of all, they'd missed their sister, who'd gone to Lórien after their mother's death. They had all reacted differently. The twins had gotten into a violent orc killing spree while Arwen had sheltered herself in Lórien, learning healing and trying to become who she once was. The healing lessons kept her occupied, and often she didn't even have time to speak to her brothers, although she did spend as much time with them as she could.

"Ah, I remember," smirked Elladan, going to stir the stew. While Arwen cooked wonderfully, the best the twins could do was wheat porridge, otherwise the kitchen ended up burned to the ground. "Anyways, how goes Leggy?"

They both smiled in nostalgia. When the blond-haired prince had first met the twins and had not immediately sucked up their contagious enthusiasm, they'd done plenty of ways to try to change him for the better. One of them was calling him by a nickname, which was particularly annoying to the overly-serious, traumatized young prince...until he'd warmed up to be the elf he was today.

"He's all right. His recover is going on steadily, you know, he has always had such a strong immune system," said Elrohir, heading towards Legolas and checking his wounds. "But that has served him well. He's very accident prone."

"I had no idea," said Elladan rolling his eyes sarcastically.

Elrohir looked at him.

"So," said Elladan. "I found this meadow not so far from here. There's much more food there I think, and it's pretty high up. We can reach it in just a couple of minutes, if we pack up right now. Legolas will recover there more easily there. He'll be more comfortable."

"And how, my dear brother, do you think we're going to get him up there?"

"Easy! We carry him up. It's not a large way. Come, Ro! You know it's a good idea."

"You are an idiot."

O-O-O

Estel rushed back to where the elf sat, whittling.

Panting, with his hair sticking to his forehead, the young boy just leaned forward and put his hand on his knees. He took some deep gulps and breaths, trying to regain air he'd wasted. His fatigue was expressed through his eyes, which were now drooping slightly because of the long times he'd spent riding.

Finally, after he regained speech, he stood up firmly and looked at the expectant-looking elf, who had put his whittling tools aside. "All right, so I scouted ahead as you suggested. And I've seen a meadow not so far from here. We can reach it in minutes."

"Is it safe?"

"Relatively I suppose," shrugged Estel fervently. "There's a lot of foliage surrounding it. The vegetation is very thick and rich, so we'll probably have plenty of hiding places to hide in and plenty to forage in and re-stock our supplies. The meadow itself is meters long and ample. If we hear any noise, the echo will be heard by us very quickly."

"Good. We will head there and camp for the night. Until so, we remain here for a few minutes more and set off," stated the elf with a commanding presence. Then, he picked up his whittling supplies and returned to his whittling.

Frowning, Estel awkwardly sat in the log, right next to the elf, who stiffened as soon as he came close. His bulging muscular stature was just inches next to Estel's smaller frame. For a moment of silence, the boy watched as the elf continued whittling, making a distinct figure come out. It was lithe yet strong and to the boy's eyes, it seemed as if he were making an archer.

"I didn't know you whittled."

"You know nothing of me," snapped the elf back.

That was true, Estel thought. He didn't even know this elf's name, for Valar's sake! He sighed inwardly, but decided not to press further. Instead, he went to familiar ground. "No...not really, but I do know you're Legolas' father now. He's spoken a lot about you throughout the journey."

However, this just make the elf tense even more. His words were bitter, and came out with a hiss. "Really? And what words did my son have for me, may I ask?"

"Well..." Estel felt like he was betraying Legolas, but he blurt it all out. "It seems you and him both don't have such a great relationship after all. It wouldn't hurt if you said you were proud of him. He seems to have such low self-esteem with you. He says you expect much of him, even when he is already trying his best. He tries, but often I take hints that there is something between you two, something deeper. Although I can't really tell, since you seem like a good father."

Suddenly, with the last sentence, the elf stopped in what he was doing and quickly cracked his head to look right at Estel, a glare boiling in his eyes. "Do not jest with me."

"I'm not!" insisted the boy genuinely. "Sure, sure, you aren't very friendly. But other than your antagonistic attitude and your I-want-to-kill-you-and-hang-your-remains-in-my-ceiling face you seem to have everyday, you don't seem so bad, no offense. You're protective. You care. You carry yourself with elegance and grace. You are smart, and would be someone interesting to talk to, I believe." Then Estel paused, sighing. "But you're right, what would I know? I don't even remember my real father."

Silence.

Why was this so common to Estel now? He grumbled and cursed himself. This was why he had never gained any friends, elven or human. Estel always just had to say something, make the conversation increasingly awkward, and leave everything in silence. Suddenly however, he realized the elf had stopped whittling and had put an uncomfortably awkward hand on Estel's shoulder, looking at him with a solemn frown.

"Elrond is the most insufferable peredhil I have ever seen," he said. "But he, unlike me, never had trouble raising his children. Both of ours ended up great, but his had a childhood, while mine never did, and I rue myself for that everyday. He might not be your real father, but whoever ends up being his child has the fortune of the entire Middle-Earth."

O-O-O

"I hate hiking! And why does this forest have so many sticks? This is the fiftieth time I almost trip because of them! I hate it so much!"

"Well, that's quite strange, aren't you a Woodland elf? You're supposed to have a closer connection to nature, as if your heart belonged to the forest. Aren't you-?"

"Oh shut up Haldir."

O-O-O

"Are we nearly there?"

"Nearly there my Lady, just a couple of steps."

"This really is a steep hill."

"Talk to me about it."

O-O-O

"Why did I ever agree to this?"

"Because you love me, brother dearest."

"Oh shut up. Now, use my shoulders as support, Dan. You look virtually exhausted."

"Please, you don't think I can't handle this little weight, can you?"

"Dan, just hold on to my shoulders."

"FINE."

O-O-O

"Are we there yet? It's almost as if this infernal hill were to throw us backwards!"

"Oh stop whining. Even my son doesn't complain as half much as you."

O-O-O

Suddenly, all four groups entered the meadow at the same time, rising from different positions.

They suddenly stopped, looking at each other with frozen expressions.

The twins' eyes were sparkling with amusement but confusion, as they both clutched the unconscious and heavily delirious Legolas between them, who was moaning gently in his unnerving sleep. Twigs and dirt covered the three of them because of the rough hike and journey they'd gone through to reach the clearing. They were both gaping at everybody, their jaws hanging with awe.

Thranduil remained calm, standing with grace and with his toned arms crossed tightly against his chest. Still, he looked quite taken back and his thick glorious eyebrows were knit together in a frown. He also couldn't help shoot some secret, worried glances at his youngest son. Estel though, couldn't have been happier. A weak smile cracked in his face and happiness melted into his features, although his eyes watered with tears as he thought of the journey he'd taken for so long and how soon this insecurity would end.

Haldir and Aurell stood next to each other, both wearing matching expressions, almost like a husband and wife would. The Marchwarden's face was solemn and his head was slightly tilted, as if wondering something. His hand lingered in Aurell's shoulder (perhaps too much) as if he needed her support to stay balanced. The Princess of Mirkwood's eyes had widened like saucers, turning all around them and analyzing their situation, years and years spent with the Dunedáin racing back to her like a torpedo.

Captain Beluriel and Lady Gilraen had no words. The Captain had dropped her two throwing knives and they had stuck to the ground, pointing up. She looked in disbelief at all the people reunited in front of her, especially at the young blond haired figure in the twins' arms. Gilraen though, didn't seemed surprised at all. She looked near to tears as suddenly, her relief and motherly instincts swelled and she met a certain pair of familiar gray eyes, which had the same coloring as someone she used to know.

Then, all voices spoke at once, some in unison, some standing out.

"Estel!"

"Captain?"

"Mother!"

"BLOODY ELRONDION TWINS!"

"LEGOLAS!"

"Gilraen?"

"MARCHWARDEN! Why the blazes are you touching my daughter?"

Then...it seemed as if all hell broke loose.

Everybody started crashing into each other. Haldir had been about to beat the bloody pulp out of a certain pair of Noldo twins before he had almost been turned into a chowder by a furious suspicious Elfking, were it not for the Marchwarden's good instincts. Currently, Haldir and Thranduil were in a fiery discussion, Haldir trying to bargain his body parts with the King and swearing he would tear apart those of Elladan and Elrohir, who were also arguing heatedly and encouraging the King to beat Haldir, so the latter wouldn't beat them.

Gilraen and Estel crashed into each other, falling under a heavy, warm embrace. The young boy and his mother had both burst into tears, Estel's cries and apologies muffled as he was buried deep into his mother's warm chest, where she held him tightly and securely in her arms, telling him that there was no need for an apology. That she was there for him, and would always be. They didn't question each other's ghastly appearances...being together was what mattered most now, regardless of anything. It was a tender and sweet moment that was doubt to make them closer than ever. A moment just for them.

Aurell and Beluriel were both crouched near the limp blond figure. And although the older Princess had felt a little uncomfortable around the Captain, she'd finally given up and welcomed her care as she watched the genuine sibling-like love she held for Legolas and gentleness. Neither of them had been particularly good at healing but now, it was as if they were professional healers, checking for any serious or non-serious, concealed or non-concealed maladies or injuries.

Finally, they separated, looking at each other with elated smiles.

"Father! What are you doing here?" Aurell was the first to ask, grinning.

Thranduil rolled his eyes, finally stepping away from Haldir and focusing on his daughter. He headed over where she was, standing just a few inches away from his son as well. "What do you think? I came here to find your fool of a brother! Although I think two fools already found him."

"Hey!" exclaimed the two Elrondion twins indignantly. Everyone ignored them.

"But sire, it was not necessary. You had already sent search teams to search for Legolas," stated Beluriel. "Why did you-?"

"Because I was tired of waiting and not getting answers, Captain!" exclaimed Thranduil. "Do you think I'll just stay in Mirkwood twiddling my thumbs like some old Noldo lady? NO! I wasn't getting anything...so sometimes, you just have to do things yourself."

"Why are you here, Captain?" asked Elrohir. "And you too Lady Gilraen! You should be in Imladris!"

"I came here for my son," said Gilraen stubbornly, wrapping her warm hands around Estel, who was smiling blissfully. "And none of you have any right to say I didn't have a good purpose. Captain Beluriel came and accompanied me and graciously helped me."

After that, there was some silence.

"Erm...so we're all reunited! Yay?" said Elladan hesitantly.

"Yay?" growled Thranduil. "IT'S NOT TIME FOR THAT, ELRONDION! We have a bloody army heading towards Mirkwood right now, just TWO BLOODY DAYS AWAY! Do you call that 'yay' Elrondion? Because I can teach you another word, and that's 'OUCH!'"

Elladan said nothing.

"An army," frowned Haldir, going into Marchwarden mode. "How strong?"

"Ten thousand, more or less," said Estel standing up weakly, squirming out of his mother's grasp with a determined glint in his eyes. Gilraen and the twins marveled at how much he'd grown. Physically, he'd grown about an inch and had some new muscles and scars to brag about. Emotionally...they were still not sure about that, although they weren't sure if they wanted to.

"Ten thousand?" asked Aurell frowning. "Has Mirkwood been alerted?"

"Not yet," said Thranduil grimly. "We must make haste to Mirkwood now."

"I will take my mount to Lothlórien," stated Haldir, looking at the Elf-king seriously, receiving a small nod of approval from said monarch. "The wardens won't stay idle while their neighbor suffers. I will bring reinforcements soon and perhaps we might delay the army, to give you time to prepare." He turned to look at the Mirkwood princess. "Aurell-"

"My daughter's not going anywhere with you, Marchwarden."

"I-" Haldir looked like he was about to argue but for the sake of his lungs...he closed his mouth. Aurell snorted, shaking her head and then turned her head to father. They started arguing, she insisting that she wasn't a little girl anymore and Thranduil that it was better than being a dead grown up girl.

Suddenly however, they were quieted down by a soft whisper.

"W-What's with all the noise?"

All turning, they watched as Legolas regained consciousness, blinking repeatedly and struggling to sit up. The twins immediately stepped forward to help him, each grabbing a shoulder and arm and helping him stand weakly, Legolas putting his arms around the twins for support. He looked at everybody, his pale demeanor barely energized enough to speak.

"It is nothing," snapped Thranduil quickly. He turned to his son, arms crossed against his chest. It was meant to have concern in it but he realized too late it had sounded more harsh than loving. "How are you feeling?"

Legolas rolled his eyes, his voice bitter. "Just fabulous, father."

Thranduil grimaced internally. So he hadn't forgotten their argument yet. However, he was cut off from his thoughts when the boy, Estel, grinned and rushed over to hug Legolas, causing many of Legolas' close acquaintances to frown at him. "Legolas! You're all right."

"It seems we both have some luck left, huh?" winked Legolas, freeing one arm from Elladan's shoulder to pat the boy's tousled dark brown hair briefly before re-curling it around Elladan's neck for support. "I'm glad to see you too."

"I can't imagine what sort of mischief you and Estel must've done," said Elladan. "It seems like there is much you will need to tell us, although we have not much time. So someone better start speaking quickly."

"Wait...you all know Estel? Even you, 'Luriel?" asked Legolas.

Everybody, except Aurell who was still looking sceptically at the boy, nodded their heads. Beluriel explained the circumstances in which she met Gilraen and then, she was gently cut off by Elladan once more, who stated. "Of course, he's our brother."

"What?"

"Our foster brother, but the little imp is much more than that," smiled Elrohir affectionately, brushing some hair in the boy's head. "He's been with us for a long time already."

Legolas looked at Estel. "You're the foster son of Lord Elrond?!"

Estel huffed protectively. "Well, you never told me of your real identity either."

"Oh, so you haven't told him that you're the King's son?" frowned Beluriel, looking at her mentor and friend with a confused face.

"You're the King's son?!" said Estel, stepping back and gaping at Legolas and then looking at Thranduil, with an even more flabbergasted expression. He pointed at him and the looked back and forth between the pair. "You're his son?"

"Is that meant as an insult?" said both elves mentioned at the same time. They looked at each other quickly, but then looked away.

"No! I'm just saying you're the king's son. And if you're the king's son, then you are a p-prince! A real prince! I think...I think I'm going to faint," Estel said strangely, looking extremely surprised. And he did just what he said he would: he fainted, although Elladan caught him before he fell.

Thranduil's horse snorted.

"Anyways, what is the battle plan?" asked Elladan, looking at them all. "While Haldir the wardens, Mirkwood is alerted...surely someone has some sort of plan to intercept the army."

"But we don't even know who's leading the army," contradicted Beluriel, stepping forward. "Although I do agree, Lord Elladan. There must be some sort of battle tactic we can do to give Mirkwood an advantage."

"Oh no, just Elladan is all right."

"No, I insist, Lord Elladan."

"No, Elladan is fine, I'm telling you."

"Lord Elladan, it is pro-"

"Lady, I'm telling you that you can just call me Elladan because it's fine-!"

"SILENCE! Gee, please, all this noise is giving me a headache," whispered Legolas. They both immediately quieted down and the elf freed himself from the twins' support, taking a hesitant wobbly step forward. It turned out he wasn't strong enough yet and he fell down immediately. However, when the twins tried to pick him up he only glared at them. Dragging himself across the floor, he grabbed a stick and pointed to an empty patch of dirt and started to draw, looking at everybody.

"I have a plan."

"NO!" Everybody was surprised and looked at Estel, who had suddenly stepped in front of the elf, looking quite angry. Both of them shared a brief look...but much to everybody's further surprise, it was a look of mutual pain, understanding. "You know what happened last time you made a plan."

"This one...is a good plan, I-I promise," said Legolas with a sudden dry, wobbly voice. Then, he went back to drawing. He drew two parallel lines and then looked up, explaining. "I went hiking around here a couple of times. It turns out there's a small canyon nearby, one that can fit a few thousands, roughly the amount

"You call that small?" asked Elrohir.

"Sort of, I suppose. There have been bigger armies. Anyways, the good thing about this canyon is that it's very narrow, so only a couple of orcs can go through at once," said Legolas. "That's why we can put a small force of fighters on land in both sides of the canyon and it'll be much more effective-"

"Because their numbers will mean nothing," interrupted Thranduil with an emotionless voice, stepping forward to watch his son further draw out his battle tactic in the dirt, with some curiosity in his eyes. "Instead of an army, the soldiers will only fight three or four orcs."

"Exactly," said Legolas, although his tone was more bitter now, obviously annoyed that he'd been interrupted, especially by his father. "Anyways, with the Marchwarden's wardens, we can not only put them in both sides of the canyon but also post archers on top. Trapping the orcs in the canyon, we annihilate the threat before it even steps to Mirkwood." He finished his plan with a stomp of his foot, erasing his battle tactic completely.

Suddenly however, a small musical-like voice spoke up.

"I have a doubt though," said Gilraen as many heads turned to her. She'd been watching everything quietly, since they'd fortunately decided to speak Westron for her, although she'd kept quiet most of the way. "How are you so sure that they will pass through the canyon?"

Some people hummed in agreement and Legolas nodded his head, erasing the battle tactic completely with his hand and then standing up once more with the help of the twins to face Gilraen. "That is a good question my lady. We will have to lure them in."

"With what...or rather, who?" she pressed on.

They all fell silent.

Legolas shrugged at her, although it secretly made his muscles hurt more than now. He stood up with wobbly feet with the help of the twins who immediately rushed forward to help him. "Me of course, along with somebody else."

"You? You?" snorted Thranduil incredulously, looking into his son's eyes. "I have seen mules smarter than you, you idiot! You can't even stand straight, how can you even think of actually acting as a bait? USE your brain! It's not just there to fill the void."

"Oh yes, of course. 'Mules smarter than you.' I think I've heard that phrase before...oh, that's right. That's because that's what I've been hearing for ALL MY LIFE!" growled Legolas, facing his equally angry father. Then, he started mimicking him. "You're always comparing me to Thalos! 'Why don't you swordfight as well as him? Why aren't your marks as high as his were when he was your age? Why aren't you as fit as your brother? Why-?'"

"Why are you such a disappointment?"

They all whipped their heads around to look at a lone rider coming out from his hiding spot in the foliage, the one who had spoken. He was regal, dominating battle prowess, rank and wisdom, dressed in full battle armor, as if he were going to a full-blown war. Blood splattered it and suddenly he took off his helmet, holding it in his hands as he gracefully got off his horse, silver eyes set loose and shining like the sun on his silvery hair.

Thalos Thranduilion, riding on his white war horse, turned to look at his little brother. "Father asks you that too, am I wrong?"

O-O-O

AN: HELLO 2015! Ah, I feel so much older now. I should say mature but I suppose I've already got that, but I do hope I will improve, as does my writing. What are some of your New Year's resolutions? Any goals or hopes?

And yes, if you asked, the canyon-like idea was based on 300. I'm a huge history lover! And I just love those violent films...very exciting! Hahahaha!

Anyways...wow guys! This is nearly done. I can't believe it! I would've never come so far without you guys, so thank you! Really, I am truly touched.

Anyways, I have a question to ask: what do I do after this?

I know, I know...AND I AM SO SORRY! "The Spring Festival," hasn't been updated in months but those are technical issues. I do apologize. But then, I am a multi-tasker and I'm good at finishing things so hopefully I'll finish that soon this year. BUT back to the topic. I've got a couple of options you can take, but if you have others please review them with me!

1. I can record myself reading the entire fanfiction and upload it into Sound Cloud.

2. I can make another story about anything you want! (How Thranduil met his wife, how Haldir and Aurell met, how Legolas did in novice training, one of Legolas' adventures, etc.)

3. I can make a one-shot of any LOTR character!

4. Or many of these options at once!

Now, the great reviewers!

Masked Man 2: Thank you! Haha...me too! Although it wasn't necessarily Eddie Murphy. I just pictured him to have a sort of African-American accent since he's just got so much sass! And about the hate, I think it's just general, you know? But you know what they say...haters going to hate! And finally, I'm glad you liked all the interactions, especially with the meeting between Beluriel and Legolas. Beluriel's an awesome elleth and I like her very much, but...

Souffle Girl in a Blue Box: First of all...I must say I love your name! Assuming by it and Clara in your profile picture, you're a Whovian, aren't you? ;) That's great! Anyways, back to your review. I agree, I loved all his stunts! But I thought this one stunt where he is running up a set of crumbling stone steps was particularly silly. By the way, about Estel's age, he is 10 here. And in the Hobbit, he is in his 20's because in Lord of the Rings, he is in his 80's (According to Peter Jackson, 87, although I'm not sure so you might want to research that if you have time. There's a lot of controversy). There's a 60 year difference between the Hobbit book and the Lord of the Rings. That's why when Legolas goes to look for Aragorn, he's technically already a man and he's one of the Dunedáin, these Northern rangers. In fact, if we follow Peter Jackson's age, Aragorn is already serving in Gondor and Rohan as 'Thorongil.' Hope it clears any doubts! :) Thanks for the compliments!

Emi the Ninja: Haha, you know Estel...he wasn't very smooth with words as a kid! ;) And about the trouble magnets? *evil laugh* You have no idea what I have planned.

Horsegirl01: I'm glad! The tone was truly much more calm and sensitive in this one. More sentimental too. I hope you enjoyed your Christmas as well and thank you for looking forward to this story! Did you know that it's nearly done?

Schattenjagd: Too true! Thranduil and Estel are lucky if they survive this thing together. And I can make a one-shot of Legolas' and Beluriel's meeting if you want. About the names though...haha, your humor is impeccable! :D Oh and good for you! There needs to be more huggers in this world. It'd be much happier, I think. And strangely enough, I do think Thranduil would prefer to tell people how stupid they are. It's not that he doesn't love them, it's just that it is awkward for him. And indeed...Thranduil's hair is fabulous, but remember that our horse here has a huge ego.

1356-2478: Hello there! I totally agree with your Thranduil judgement. But first of all, I want to know how my OC's are a bit out of character. Now...don't take it wrong, I'm not denying it. I would just like to know how they're out of character so that I make them better. Is it their dialogue? Their actions? Their personalities? Thanks! :)

Now about Thranduil...you're right, he's not perfect, but he isn't a faceless machine. You know what I hate? I HATE those Thranduil abuses Legolas or sells him to become a slave fanfictions. Thranduil is a good father. His methods might be nonconventional but he really loves him, he really does. Here in my fanfic, he just finds difficulty in showing his feelings because he's afraid that if he cares about someone too much, like his father and his wife, it will devastate him when they're gone. That's why here, he builds this 'ego,' with all his snarky comments, insults, narcissistical thoughts, feigning 'superiority' over other beings he doesn't trust yet...because it's meant to protect him. It's not that he wants to be hated. No, his children and his people ALL know that he cares about them. It's just that he doesn't show it openly, which has made some people, like Legolas, doubt him. But if he had the chance, you're right...he would truly demonstrate his love, he really would.

I also agree with you about Legolas. The way I portray him is that he is very friendly and he likes talking with others. He's hilarious, sassy, 'carefree'...but the truth is, this is just another thing he and his father are similar in. While Thranduil hides in his cold facade, Legolas dips into his positivity. He gives people an ideal image of him because he's such a selfless person and he doesn't want others to worry for him, when in reality he is in deep sorrow. He doesn't like to share his pain and he's gone through so much loss already. In reality, like during the Quest, Legolas is a much serious person. He knows that this isn't a game and he doesn't fool around as much, lets others do what they need to do. He knows his role in the Quest and he's plain serious about it. You can see that both during the Quest and here, Legolas has a difficulty trusting people. He has to really know them and accept them as friends for a long time, which is why he was so quiet around the Fellowship, or so I think. And haha, you're right! He really is like you described him basically. And perhaps it's the age. There's this particular quote I really like from him, when they're in Fangorn.

"This forest is old. So old that I feel young again, something I have not felt since I have travelled with you, children."

Thanks so much for believing in this story though! I totally appreciate all of your feedback and opinions and I will always try my best to improve my story in every way possible!

PawsPrint: Nah, haha! It's okay. Thanks so much for reviewing! :)