Stained

Disclaimer: Those you recognize belong to Tolkien. I do not own them. Those you do not recognize belong to me.

Summary: Sequel to "Tainted." With the threat now behind them, Thranduil, Elrond, and their families look forward to healing and life returning to normal in Imladris. But hatred runs deep. When the true extent of the plot against them surfaces, they may already be too late to save all they hold dear and to escape with their lives.

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Friendship

Characters: Thranduil, Aragorn/Estel, Elrond, Legolas, Erestor, Elladan/Elrohir, and Glorfindel, features OCs

Author's Note: Hello! So, before we get any further with this, I'd like to apologize for how long it's been since I finished "Tainted," and for how long it took for me to start its sequel. There really isn't much of a reason for this long wait, other than real life, some writing opportunities outside of this site and art opportunities that have kept me busy, and some personal matters I've had to deal with got in the way. But "Tainted" means a lot to me, and so does "Stained," and they are stories that never left my mind. So, for those of you who come back to read this since you enjoyed the first one, welcome back! I hope you'll enjoy this one as much as the first, it should be quite a ride. For those of you just stumbling upon this story for the first time, I would suggest checking out "Tainted" first since this will probably not make much sense otherwise. And for those of you who have stuck with me, thank you so, so much! Also, huge shoutout to Gwed for your patience and excitement and encouragement about this story being back in the works– it means a lot to me, mellon-nín! I definitely enjoy our talks about it, and I hope a certain chief advisor will live up to your expectations. On that note, "Stained" will pick up pretty much right from where "Tainted" left off with our favorite Elves and five-year-old Estel and will follow the same storyline threads, namely the two Elves who have a vendetta against Thranduil and Elrond, as well as Erestor's mysterious past he is trying to close the door on. This chapter is a bit on the longer side (hopefully, it partially makes up for my long absence!) and is the proverbial calm before the storm as well as sets the tone for the rest of the story. So, with all that in mind, I will not keep you any longer (the rest of my author's notes should not be this long, no worries!), and let's get on with this, shall we? Read and review if you would like to, just no flames, please. I hope you guys enjoy it, and again, I apologize for how long it's been! Thanks, guys!

Elvish:

hir-nín– my lord
ada– father
ion-nín– my son
penneth– young one
hannon le– thank you
naneth– mother
muindor– brother
tithen pen– little one

Chapter 1

Screams echoed around him...

... blood stained the gently swaying flowers in the grass beneath his feet...

... his stained blade glinted in the pale sun...

Erestor quickly sat up on his bed, his eyes slightly wide as he looked at the dark room around him. He then let out the deep breath he hadn't fully realized he had been holding, closing his eyes once more as he weakly passed a hand over his clammy face. It was not often that he dreamt, for he was so occupied with his duties around Imladris that he usually slept lightly at best.

But that was the way he preferred it. For as long as he could recall, at least for as long as he had resided within the walls of Imladris, the dreams that plagued him had more often than not been dark, especially in times of stress. Sleep without dreams was what he needed, and normally, his hard work granted him that.

Though it was the stressful events of the past couple days that had exhausted him to the point of dreaming. Erestor clearly remembered how King Thranduil of Mirkwood, along with his son, Legolas, had arrived in Rivendell to discuss the usual agreements between them for the upcoming season. It was something they had always done.

But what they had not considered, as there was no way they could have, was that a traitor had been in their midst.

Aeglironion had been one of the most respected cooks in Elrond's service for years, but he was one who had been planning on poisoning both the gentle-hearted Elf lord and the proud Woodland king for an injustice he felt that he had been a victim of. That injustice, according to Elrond and Thranduil, was being banished from Greenwood sometime after the Last Alliance on the grounds of plotting an assassination attempt against the latter. There had been a couple Elves in the Woodland forces under Aeglironion's command who had been discontent under Oropher's rule and did not wish to see his son rise to the throne, though Aeglironion continued to claim that he had had no hand in it and was instead trying to stop it. Though Thranduil's word had been final.

Both the lord of Imladris and Mirkwood's king placed the blame on themselves for how the situation had been handled, especially if Aeglironion truly had been wrongfully banished, but Erestor still felt that guilt was misplaced. He was just relieved that the deceitful Elf had been caught before he could successfully complete his plan and that Elrond had not suffered from the poison's effects while Thranduil was recovering his strength due in part to the heroic efforts of the small mortal child living in their home.

Their friend would recover, Aeglironion and Amonost– a guard in Rivendell's patrol who had aided in the former's plan– would have judgement passed on them the following morning, and all of this would be behind them. Everything would return to normal.

... a dark figure hovered over him...

... a vial of ink spilled onto the blank pages sitting on the desk in front of him before they drifted to the ground...

... the blade of his dagger glinted before him, and he slowly reached a slightly shaking hand out toward it...

Erestor attempted to take a deep breath, but he just couldn't seem to control it. With his heart pounding in his chest, he shut his eyes tightly to try to block out the haunting images and the awful sounds, and he reached out blindly for his robe as he stumbled out of bed. In his haste, his hand connected with something on the small end table beside him, causing whatever it was to fall and smash when it hit the floor. Erestor's dark eyes snapped open as he looked down, seeing it had been an extra vial of ink he had set there a couple days before and just hadn't gotten around to putting away in his storage closet yet. His panicked gaze followed the black rivulets as they slowly spread away from the shattered glass for a long moment before he was finally able to tear it away. With slightly shaking hands, the advisor finally managed to grab hold of his robe and slipped it on, tying it around his slender waist with a little more difficulty than the simple action required. Still not quite able to catch his breath, he turned and walked briskly to the tall window across the room from him and lightly pushed on the pane to open it.

The chill in the night air caressed his pale features as he leaned outside, and Erestor let out a long breath before finally being able to take a full one. He spent a few moments in silence as he simply looked out at the still valley and the stars that pricked the dark sky above him, feeling as his breathing slowly steadied, his heartbeat returned to a normal rate, and the trembling in his fingers stilled. He closed his eyes for a long moment, allowing that peace to fill him completely. With the day that loomed before him, he knew he would have to be well rested. Though sleep was certainly out of the question now.

He couldn't allow the dreams to return again.

After another few minutes of ensuring he was composed, Erestor turned away from the window and faced his dark room. His gaze immediately landed on the shattered ink vial, knowing he'd have to clean the mess before it stained his floor completely. He grabbed the damp cloth from his wash basin before dropping to one knee on the floor beside his bed, but when the chief advisor leaned forward to start cleaning up the ink and broken glass, he paused with a wince as he set his hand lightly over his left side. Now that Thranduil was guaranteed to make a full recovery after being so uncertain the day before, Erestor had finally allowed Elrond to thoroughly tend to the stab wound he had received from Amonost when he had attempted to bring him to the Elf lord for questioning of his involvement in the Mirkwood monarch's poisoning– he knew his friend would have relentlessly persisted had he not agreed. It was stitched up and healing nicely, but the pain would still resurface every now and again if he moved the wrong way.

But it wasn't the physical ailment that nagged at him most. It wasn't even the fact that Amonost had actually done it, since he had clearly panicked in the moment and hadn't meant to bring him harm, so he couldn't place full blame on the guard. It was that the trusted soldier in their defenses who had for so long worked under Glorfindel, and even had a hand in training Elladan and Elrohir into the skilled warriors they were, had betrayed them. Aeglironion's actions were despicable enough, but he had not lived in the peaceful valley of Imladris nearly as long as Amonost had. He just couldn't bring himself to believe that someone he had known for so long would do something to willingly help in a plot to assassinate not only Thranduil but Elrond, the Elf lord who had brought him into his home. But, he supposed that they would have the answers they needed when judgement would be passed on both Aeglironion and Amonost the following day.

A weary sigh passed from Erestor's lips when he finished gathering all the shards of glass and soaked up the spilled ink, though even in the minimal light filtering into the room, he could see that some of the dark liquid had bled into his floor and could not be cleaned. Deciding there was nothing more he could do for the time being, he rose to his feet and set the used rag back in the wash basin, where it would stay until he cleaned it out and replaced it the next morning. The advisor then straightened up his bed before he changed into a fresh black tunic and neatly folded up his robe before setting it at the foot of his bed, figuring that since he wasn't going to get any more sleep, he would use the few valuable hours that remained before first light to catch up on some important paperwork that he had set aside due to the more vital situation at hand involving Thranduil's life.

Though as he pulled open the door of his storage closet to gather the supplies he would need to complete his task, Erestor paused when his gaze landed on the second shelf from the bottom.

He reached toward the shelf, slowly pushing the piles of blank parchment aside. He instantly stopped, his jaw setting firmly as he hesitantly grasped the slightly curved handle of what he kept hidden behind them.

He slid the Noldorin dagger out of its worn, thin sheath, revealing the intricately designed blade it contained, the dark handle fitting perfectly in his palm...

Erestor shook his head against the recent memory when, after so long, he'd almost considered breaking the promise he'd made to himself to never again use the beautiful but deadly weapons he'd kept after all that time. It would have been for a good cause– after all, he had been the one to leave Estel alone, which had allowed Aeglironion to attempt to use the mortal boy as some extra leverage against Elrond.

But he couldn't have been more relieved that Glorfindel, the stubborn twice-born Balrog Slayer he considered to be his most trusted friend, had been there to talk him out of it.

With another sigh, Erestor finished grabbing a few handfuls of blank parchment, a couple quills, and a couple vials of ink before he turned his back on what was hidden under the instruments of his daily tasks and closed the closet door behind him. He then quietly opened the door of his room and glanced out into the dark hallway, finding it to be as empty as he'd hoped before he stepped out and began to make his way toward his sanctuary in the library.

"Glorfindel, I vowed I would not use these again..."

"Not this day, Erestor."

From where he was leaning against the wall in the hallway adjacent to Erestor's room, Glorfindel tilted his head slightly as he listened to the chief advisor close his door before his retreating footsteps faded in the direction of the library. He had been on his way to check on the dark-haired Elf since the last time he had seen him when he had tried to bring him dinner to where he'd assumed he'd have been working in the library, he hadn't been in the best frame of mind. He couldn't say he was surprised that his friend would seek the comforts his work provided him after all that had occurred in the past couple days since he hadn't gotten any done. After all, Erestor was known to get even more irritable if the work he had to complete was put off for too long.

But what did concern the Balrog Slayer was what had seemed to wake Erestor at such a late hour in such a state, having heard some glass shattering from inside the room. Not that his own state of mind was faring much better that night. Sleep had eluded him, even though the threat they had been faced with where both Thranduil and Elrond's lives had been at risk had passed, but it was the events themselves that caused him to be so restless. Since all of Imladris' defenses were under his command, Glorfindel had always worked tirelessly along with Elrond to ensure that their borders were well protected from any threat that drew too near. Now that a serious threat had risen from within their own walls, it was something that left him a bit unsettled. Amonost was a guard he had trusted completely since he was one who had been under his command the longest, and though Aeglironion had not initially hailed from Rivendell, he had given him no reason to doubt his loyalty during the time he had spent in the valley.

He wondered how he could have been so deceived by them.

With a sigh, Glorfindel pushed away from the wall and turned the corner, making his way down the same hallway the slender advisor had. His light gaze landed on Erestor's closed door as he passed it, hesitating ever so slightly before making his way to the same destination, finding upon his arrival at the library that one of the two double doors was slightly open. The golden-haired warrior reached out and pushed it open a little more as quietly as he could before stepping inside the dark room, silently making his way through the shelves of books until he spotted what he'd come to find.

Erestor was sitting at the back table in the corner where he always found refuge, a single lit candle along with the traces of moonlight filtering in through the window casting light over the paperwork he'd spread over the wooden surface. The only sound that could be heard in the vast, nearly empty room was the near silent scratch the quill made against the parchment as the dark-haired Elf hurriedly scribbled across it, pausing only for more ink when the need arose. He was so focused on the task at hand, nearly doubled over the desk with his nose touching the paper, that he didn't seem to even notice the second Elf's presence.

Glorfindel's light gaze faltered as he watched his friend furiously work on trying to complete the job he, in his mind, should have finished a couple days before with a slight tremble lingering in his thin fingers. He still clearly remembered discovering Erestor standing in his storage closet not once but twice with one of his twin Noldorin daggers that he tried to keep hidden held tightly in his hands in the midst of the events of the past couple days. There had only been rare occasions during their time in Imladris when he had seen the chief advisor near that state of mind, and it'd concerned him every time. He could only assume this time had resulted from the recent events where people they both cared about had been at risk, especially when Erestor had blamed himself for Estel's kidnapping, but it worried him all the same.

"I vowed I would not use these again..."

Ever since Erestor had made that promise, Glorfindel had vowed to himself to do everything he could to make sure his friend kept his word. Dwelling on the past tended to cause the other Elf some anxiety, only he and Elrond knew that well– for as long as he had known him, the chief advisor functioned best when he had things under control, and when he had needed those daggers had been a time when they had not been. And with all the stress of the past couple days, things once again had felt as though they had been starting to get out of control, though fortunately, they had not ended up that way– once the morning came, both of their minds could be more at ease. The Balrog Slayer knew that what Erestor was doing now, focusing solely on the tasks that had to be done so he could block out the rest of the world, was him returning to a place he felt in control.

Not wanting to disturb him since his friend seemed to be composed, Glorfindel turned away and slipped out of the library, silently closing the door behind him. It was with confidence he felt that he could find Erestor in the same place come morning. He then set off with purpose, his path bringing him to two locked doors across from each other at the end of another hallway, and the dark-haired guard who was stationed there bowed his head in respect as he approached.

"How fare the prisoners?" the twice-born warrior asked, his tone void of emotion as his light gaze moved to the heavy locks in place over both doors. His hand lingered near the hilt of his sword.

"There has been no sound from them, hir-nín," the guard answered. "There is no need for worry. They will keep until morning."

Glorfindel's eyes narrowed slightly. With Aeglironion's desire for revenge, and the slight struggle he himself had had with interrogating Amonost, he couldn't deny he found their submissive behavior a bit strange. "Good," he finally murmured, meeting the guard's gaze. "Alert me if there is any change with either of them, or if you require my aid."

"Aye, hir-nín."

With a slight nod of his own to the guard, Glorfindel lingered for a moment longer before he turned and started to make his way to his own room, though he knew he would get no sleep that night with as much as there was on his mind. Morning could not come soon enough, for he could not wait to put this entire ordeal behind him.

"Remember my words, Thranduil."

With a weary sigh, the Woodland king slowly opened his eyes, gazing back at his pale reflection in the window from where he was sitting in the chair in front of it. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so exhausted. During his reign over Mirkwood, there had been plenty of sleepless nights and draining days spent on their borders defending his people from the ever increasing Shadow, or times of grief or long nights of agonizing over the safety of his son.

But yet, it seemed like such a long time since he had been this exhausted.

Thranduil's brow furrowed as he placed a ringed hand lightly over his stomach. Though Elrond's antidote had counteracted the spread of the poison that had been ravaging his body, there were still times where he was able to feel its burning effects while he recovered his strength. As frustrating as his weakness was, deep down, he felt that it may not have been so unjustified.

Setting his jaw, Thranduil slowly pushed himself out of the cushioned chair he was sitting in and turned away from the window. He splashed a little water from the wash basin that had been left in the room Elrond had prepared for him on his face, taking a deep breath as he blinked some drops out of his eyes. It had been so long since he had seen Aeglironion, an Elf who had previously been part of his, and his father's before him, defenses in Greenwood. Though after all that had happened over the past couple of days since he had been in Imladris, there was not much he could remember about him from that time. All the king could see when he thought of Aeglironion's name was his brash nature when he had spoken to him that morning where he was being held prisoner, the cruelty and rage in his cold eyes when he spoke about those fateful events in Greenwood and those he believed were responsible for them, and the conviction behind his final threat.

"You know not what you, and Elrond, have taken from me, Thranduil, though by the Valar, one day you will."

Thranduil closed his eyes, knowing he would have no difficulty in remembering Aeglironion's words, for they would haunt his mind for some time to come. He set a steadying hand on the table before him as he took a deep breath and opened his eyes once more, his worn gaze moving around the silent, dark room. What Aeglironion could be so adamant in saying he and Elrond had taken from him through his banishment, he wasn't sure. And the more he struggled to think of what it could possibly be, the more he was at a loss. The little the Mirkwood monarch did remember of him, though hadn't thought about until that sleepless night, when he had been a guard in Greenwood seemed positive– his father had spoken highly of Aeglironion for his skill as a warrior, he had even been at Thranduil's side when there had been an assassination attempt on Oropher's life and helped detain the traitorous guard who had struck the king with a poisoned dart, and he had been one of the remaining of his depleted forces when they had returned to Greenwood after the Last Alliance. Though they were traits and memories he had of more soldiers than just Aeglironion. He hadn't done anything that had made him stand out in a negative way, or in an overly positive way, during his time in his service.

Though what had possibly happened to cause him to turn to such actions against him and Elrond now, he had no way of knowing, other than his forced, and perceived unjust, banishment from Greenwood had cost him something. And though it was enough to make him question if his former guard had been right in saying that he had nothing to do with the assassination attempt on him when he had been discovered with the couple guards in his forces who truly did want him dead, Thranduil knew that the key in figuring out his motivations for the events of the past couple days was in uncovering just what it was that he had lost. And he hoped that all would be understood once morning came and judgement could be passed on both Aeglironion and the Imladris guard who had aided in his plans.

The Woodland king's gaze then landed on the small table beside the bed, faltering when it passed over his crown that sat on top of it. He slowly walked over and hesitated before reaching out and lifting it, inspecting it a bit closer. Some of the red and golden leaves had fallen off of it, though he knew it wouldn't be difficult to mend once he returned to Mirkwood after this trying ordeal was put behind them and Elrond deemed him well enough to travel. It was a more relaxing task he found himself somewhat looking forward to, as well as the familiar routine of being home.

Suddenly, a sense of dizziness came over him, and Thranduil nearly dropped the crown as he reached out and grabbed a hold of the table to keep himself upright. He briefly closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths before opening them again in time to see one of the leaves that still clung to the crown break off and drift to the floor. His light eyes widened as he stared down at it, finding he was unable to tear his gaze away from the single leaf until the lightheaded feeling returned. He quickly set the crown back on the table before he turned and took the couple steps to the bed, sinking down onto it with a slightly shaking breath. Elrond had warned him that he would have to be cautious since his body had not nearly recovered from the poison that had been in his system, and he could suffer a relapse if he exerted himself too much. He would still be weak for some time yet.

Though as Thranduil continued to take a few deep breaths in attempt to combat the small dizzy spell and gazed down at the slight tremble in his fingers, the thought that what he had suffered, and what he continued to suffer, may not have been so unjustified crossed his mind once again. As he himself had told Aeglironion earlier that very day, it had been his own word that had banished him, even though Elrond had offered his guidance during that turbulent time. It was still his own final decision. It was true that there had been much to burden his mind then, though he knew that was no excuse to have not given his former guard's case a closer look than he and Elrond had if there was even a slim chance he was innocent. What if Aeglironion was correct in saying that he had been trying to stop the assassination attempt on him all those years ago, not aiding in it?

It may have been too late to make any difference, but if what the cook said was true, the Mirkwood monarch knew that his affliction may have been Fate's way of telling him he had been wrong. Though something he could at least be grateful for was that Elrond hadn't had to suffer along with him, other than all the Elf lord had willingly given of himself as he aided in his recovery. At least Estel had not been with Aeglironion too long and had been returned safe and sound. At least his own child, whose presence at his side had done much to help his recovery, had been unharmed.

With a weary sigh, Thranduil slowly closed his eyes. At least once morning came, he would have the answers he needed so he could finally put his mind at ease, though he was unsure if he would be able to completely forget what Aeglironion had done.

"Remember my words, Thranduil..."

Legolas slowly reached out and lightly traced his fingertips over the smooth surface of the bow that was sitting at the foot of his bed, his gaze passing over the intricate designs in the slight moonlight that was filtering in through the window. This was the same room that Elrond always prepared for him when he stayed in Imladris, which this time had his father occupying the room right beside it, and it was one he felt comfortable in. Though this time was different, since this time, he couldn't bring himself to sleep. There was too much on his mind to be able to do that.

The prince wrapped his thin fingers around his bow, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he brought the weapon a little closer to him. He thought back to when he, Elladan, and Elrohir had been perched in the trees of the forests of Imladris, watching as Aeglironion attempted to get through Glorfindel and his patrol with Estel. He hadn't had much time to think in that one moment, no more than a couple of seconds, as he drew his arrow and was presented with the perfect shot to incapacitate the traitorous Elf while not bringing harm to the small mortal, and he knew there were not many who would have been comfortable taking it with how close Estel had been to the target. A sliver of difference in his aim or any movement by Aeglironion or the boy could have easily led to a much more devastating outcome, and he was just grateful that hadn't been the case. Estel was safe and unharmed, and Aeglironion was alive and being kept in holding until judgement could be passed on him come morning.

Though as he lightly pulled back on the string, Legolas had to admit to himself that hadn't been the only reason he had risked that shot. Slight guilt chipped away at him when he remembered how Elrohir had thanked him for saving Estel since he had been the only one confident enough to make it, wishing he felt that he was more deserving of his friend's gratitude. Because as much as he loved Estel, and as much as he had wanted him out of harm's way, there was another very potent reason he had taken the shot at Aeglironion.

Unable to sit still, Legolas released his hold on the bow and rose to his feet, beginning to pace the room. He could not forget sitting at his father's side, merely being able to hold his hand and watch as he suffered from the poison that ravaged him, unable to aid him. He could not forget his deathly pale face and lifeless features. He could not forget hearing his gasps for breath or the agonizing moment he believed he had lost the king when he had briefly stopped breathing. For his entire life, Legolas had always seen his father as not only the proud king of Mirkwood, but also a skilled warrior who never hesitated to defend his people from the dangers that surrounded their home. His father had always been there to care for him and to protect him, and though he had longed to do whatever he could for him as he fought the poison in his system, the prince knew Thranduil should not have had to suffer that ailment at the hands of the deceitful Elf. That weakness did not suit him.

And it was that reason why he had held his breath and loosed that arrow in that critical moment.

Legolas paused in his pacing, glancing down at his hands. His eyes narrowed as he thought back to the one time he had spoken with Aeglironion in the dark kitchens when he and Elrohir had gone to search for any lingering remains of the cook's poison that Elrond had needed for the antidote. It was a discussion he had not told his father about, but it was one that continued to weigh heavily on his mind. For though he had only had the chance to interact with Aeglironion closely once, the hatred he harbored for the Mirkwood king could not have been any clearer.

"Your father deserves the torment, Legolas."

The prince curled his hands into light fists to stop the angry tremble in his fingers. That Aeglironion had addressed him by name had surprised him at first, though he knew it should not have due to the amount of time he had spent in Imladris over the years. Though he could not remember the cook clearly before his devastating actions, he was certain they must have come in contact plenty of times before. But it was the way he had said his name that shocked him most, along with how personal the animosity in his tone was. It was as though the hatred Aeglironion had for the king spread to him as well, and he could not deny it was something that left him a bit unsettled. He had seen in the cook's eyes the length in which he was willing to go to ensure that Thranduil suffered the same pain he had for the wrongs he felt his father had committed against him.

But his anger toward the traitorous Elf for what he had done certainly outweighed any of his reservations, and Legolas had to admit that he had a certain amount of pleasure in having been granted the opportunity to avenge his father, even if it was only slight. An arrow wound to his shoulder was not enough, in his mind, since he had brought much more harm to Thranduil, but as frustrating as it was for him, the young monarch knew it would have to be enough as Aeglironion's punishment now rested in hands other than his own.

Then, Legolas' brow furrowed slightly as he glanced over his shoulder at the door of the room. He had the suspicion that he was not the only one awake in the house of Elrond that night, and he could feel that the occupant of the next room was as restless as he was. Making up his mind, he slowly crossed the room and quietly opened the door, instantly spotting a tall, slender, fair-haired figure across the hall from him standing in front of a broad window that overlooked the dark, still valley. With a small smile, the prince stepped out into the hall to join him.

"Should you not be in bed, Ada?" he asked quietly.

A beat passed before Thranduil looked over his shoulder to meet his son's gaze, a hint of a challenge in his features as he arched an eyebrow and returned the look. "With what is in store for us on the morrow, could the same not be said for you, ion-nín?" he countered lightly.

The prince's smile broadened, but at the same time, his gaze faltered in concern. Though he was relieved that Thranduil's strength was steadily returning, there was still something about the king before him that didn't feel right. There was weariness in his deep, timbre voice, his face was still a bit too ashen, his light eyes were dull, and there was something in his demeanor that made him seem smaller and a bit more frail. This was not the strong Mirkwood monarch, the strong father, he knew.

"I suppose it could, though I am afraid I am unable to sleep," Legolas replied, his smile waning.

Thranduil nodded once, casting his gaze back to the window as a quiet sigh passed through his lips. "You as well as I," he muttered.

When a long moment of silence passed between them, the king glanced over his shoulder once again before he turned to completely face his son. "Is everything all right, penneth?" he wondered.

Legolas nodded. It was at that moment he knew his father had been aware of his own restlessness, just as he had known of his. "Aye, Ada," he told him, though he was unsure if it was the whole truth. "There is just a lot on my mind about what has happened, and what will happen..."

Thranduil's light gaze faltered before he held a ringed hand out to the younger Elf. Legolas looked at it for a moment before slowly approaching the king. "I do not wish for you to concern yourself with Aeglironion, Legolas," he said, a note of authority returning to his tone. "There is no need."

The prince sighed, unable to meet his gaze. "Does this matter not concern me, Ada?" he pressed.

"It should not have to." Thranduil tilted his head slightly as his brow furrowed. "Is there something you are not telling me, ion-nín?"

Though slightly started by the question, Legolas hoped it didn't show through on his face as he shook his head, still unable to look directly at him. He felt that if he did, his father would know all the conflicting thoughts on his mind, including his confrontation with Aeglironion.

Then, his eyes widened when Thranduil set a light hand on the back of his head and gently brought it to rest on his shoulder. "Do not bear this burden that is not yours to bear, penneth," he murmured, his voice softening.

The prince tensed for a moment before he closed his eyes and relaxed into the king's embrace. He still may not have told Thranduil everything about the unsettled feeling that stubbornly refused to leave his heart even though he wished he could do what his father said, but he did not want to burden him down more than he already was. He could not do that.

At least when morning came and Aeglironion would face judgement, they would hopefully be able to put everything behind them, and the Elf that had brought Thranduil so much harm would finally receive the punishment he deserved.

Elrohir smiled slightly as a cup of hot tea was set on the table in front of him. "Hannon le," he muttered.

Elladan returned the look as he sat down on the stool opposite his twin. "'Tis my pleasure," he said. "I remember when Naneth would always make this for us when we could not sleep. I thought it would help calm you now."

The younger son of Elrond nodded as he raised the cup to his lips and took a cautious sip. This trip to the kitchens has not been planned, though it was by no means unwelcome. He was so exhausted after the events of the past couple of days between Thranduil's life being in danger, two traitorous Elves threatening his father as well, and with Estel being taken that his body was practically begging him to sleep, though his mind was racing so quickly that he wasn't being granted that necessity. It hadn't been too long before Elladan stopped by his room to ask if he wanted to join him in the kitchens, and since he had only been causing himself stress while trying to sleep, he had accepted his brother's offer.

A moment passed before Elladan leaned forward slightly after taking a sip of his own tea. "Do you wish to tell me what is troubling you so, muindor?" he asked. Normally, his connection with Elrohir allowed him to be able to have a good idea about what he was feeling, but this time felt different. He had noticed his brother's demeanor shift shortly before they'd gone after Aeglironion to bring Estel home, though all he knew was it had something to do with their father's involvement in all that had happened. "Is it still about Ada?"

Elrohir raised his gaze to a pair of identical gray eyes before it faltered as he gave a resigned sigh. "Aye," he answered quietly. "And that he blames himself for Aeglironion's actions against him and Thranduil. I still do not understand why..."

Elladan nodded thoughtfully. He remembered how Elrond had driven himself to the point of exhaustion in order to sustain the Mirkwood monarch with his own healing touch long enough for the antidote to the poison wreaking havoc in his system to be created, and he had simply believed the guilt he placed on himself had been misplaced. His father was someone he would never doubt, though he had to wonder if there was something they hadn't been told that would explain this guilt he bore.

Though no matter what that could be, the older twin also still could not understand what had caused Aeglironion to attempt to murder both Elrond and Thranduil despite his banishment. He had some fond memories of the cook from when he and Elrohir had been young, and he glanced over at the counter where Aeglironion had helped them when they tried to make strawberry pastries for the first time, all laughing as they made a mess in the process. The cheerful sound echoed in his ears, and he knew the older Elf had never seemed bitter toward the lord of Imladris, and that they had always felt comfortable around him in those moments alone with him. It unsettled him to think that even then he had been planning and waiting to assassinate their father, as well as the Mirkwood king when the opportunity was presented to him.

"Do you know why he continues to do so?" Elladan pressed, attempting to shake the memories. He no longer wanted to think about the person the cook had pretended to be for so long. "Surely he and Thranduil have not done anything deserving of his actions. They did what they had to when they agreed to banish Aeglironion."

Elrohir sighed as he rubbed his tired eyes. "He told me that it was because he had been the one to advise Thranduil that banishing him would be the best course of action," he replied. "And if there was a chance that Aeglironion was innocent as he claimed, they should have looked further into the incident. But they did not."

"That is no fault of theirs," Elladan said confidently, taking another sip of his tea. "If Ada and Thranduil believed they were doing the right thing, then I am certain it was the right course. A risk such as that against Thranduil could not afford to be taken."

The younger twin wanted to agree with his brother, in part because it would make things less complicated in his mind as well as absolve Elrond of his guilt, but he could not do so easily. He glanced at the doorway, remembering bittersweetly that Aeglironion would often stand in that same spot and sneak him and Elladan an extra pastry after, or sometimes even before, dinner when they were Elflings. The cook could have threatened or harmed them at any time, as well as the lord of Imladris, since he had had plenty of opportunities to do so, though he had not. There had to be something more to this entire ordeal than what they knew.

"What if... what if he was innocent, Elladan? What if he truly was trying to stop his soldiers from assassinating Thranduil in Greenwood?"

Elladan arched an eyebrow. "I believe Aeglironion's actions are not those of one who is innocent, Elrohir," he told him.

But Elrohir shook his head slightly as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. There was something crucial they were missing, he was certain of it. "He is not the first Elf to be banished from his home," he countered quietly. "Why would he wait so long to attack Ada and Thranduil? Why did he act at all? He could have lived a quiet life here, and no one would have known what he had possibly done, if he truly has done what he was accused of. He had for a long time without us knowing. He must have had another motivation..."

His sentence trailed of when the older twin reached across the table and wrapped his hands around both of his, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Please stop this, muindor, before you go mad," he muttered. He gave Elrohir a small smile when he opened his mouth to respond. "Do not dwell on this. Those we love are safe. We may never understand why Aeglironion has done this and when he chose to do so, or if he was truly wrongfully banished, though we can do nothing to change these things. All we have left to do now is to wait for his judgement to be passed on the morrow, as well as Amonost's." He briefly paused as his gaze faltered, not wanting to think about how one of the guards that he had looked up to as he grew in his own weapon training had also betrayed them by aiding in Aeglironion's revenge plot. "Then we may forget about what has happened."

Once again, Elrohir shook his head slightly. "Are you certain?" he asked.

Elladan's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you mean, Elrohir?"

Elrohir sighed as he lowered his gaze and released his brother's hands. "I know not," he murmured, mainly to himself. A feeling of dread that he couldn't explain had begun to settle over his heart. There was something about this entire situation that still didn't feel right to him. Aeglironion had patiently waited for a long time before instigating his plan against their father and Thranduil. Would he not have planned more thoroughly? "'Tis probably nothing, muindor. As you said, I am dwelling too much on what has happened."

His brow furrowing, Elladan slowly reached for his cup of tea again. "If you are certain..."

"I am," Elrohir assured him, though with the dread that was continuing to pull at him, he wasn't sure if he, or his twin, believed those words. He watched Elladan take another sip of the soothing beverage, choosing not to comment further, before he sighed and reached for his cup, continuing to sip his own tea in silence.

Elrond sighed to himself as he leaned over and picked up one of the bowls left over from when he and Elrohir had worked to revive Thranduil in one hand, balancing a sleeping Estel on his other hip. There had hardly been a minute where the young mortal had parted from him ever since he had been returned after Aeglironion had taken him, though he did not mind his company in the least. He was simply relieved to have him so close after finding out that he had been taken and that he had been unharmed. After hearing about what Legolas had done to save his foster son, he knew he would have to find a time to properly thank him, though it would likely have to wait until after what was looming ahead of them come morning because of the turbulence he could feel from the younger Elf. The Elf lord would have talked with him himself, but he felt the prince was where he needed to be and would continue to recover once this ordeal was behind them and judgement was passed on the two Elves who had threatened their lives. He also had his own children to tend to.

A small smile appeared on Elrond's face when Estel shifted a little in his arm, burying his face into his shoulder and mumbling incoherently as he continued to sleep. He continued to pick up the rest of the couple bowls before slowly making his way across the room and stepping out into the hallway, making his way in the direction of his own room. Though he had been able to sleep for a short time, it was all he had been able to manage even with how exhausted he was after much of his strength had been depleted in order to sustain Thranduil. It was not something he regretted since his friend still lived after not being certain that he would, and he was just relieved that the king's life was no longer in any immediate danger. Though he had to admit he somewhat envied the small boy he kept close, knowing he would not be able to sleep until Aeglironion and Amonost received just punishments the coming morning. It was something the lord of Imladris hoped would also help Elrohir, for much like Legolas, he could feel that his own son had been deeply troubled by the cook's traitorous actions and how he accepted the blame for them since the younger twin did not understand his reasoning for it. It was something he did not expect him to.

Though as he continued to make his way down the dark hallway, Elrond's step faltered slightly while his brow furrowed as his mind traveled to Aeglironion. He had not once seen him after the other Elf had given him the poisoned glass of water that had been meant to end his life, much like it had nearly ended Thranduil's, nor had he seen Amonost. His weary gray eyes traveled down to the bowls he held, his mind trying to grasp at all the thoughts that were spiraling through it. Despite the guilt he felt about his part in what had caused Aeglironion to target him and Thranduil, and the anger and hatred he knew the cook must have been harboring toward them for the banishment he felt he had not deserved, he still could not understand his actions, at least not completely. It had been so long since he had welcomed Aeglironion into his home when he arrived exhausted and without a place to go, and Elrond was well aware that at any time, he could have harmed him and no one would have known. There had been plenty of times he had been alone with the cook while he aided in his recovery as well as after, and the other Elf had personally prepared many of the meals for both him and his family. And if Amonost had been involved in Aeglironion's plot ever since he had arrived in Rivendell, the guard who had once been a trusted member of their forces also had had plenty of opportunities to harm him, as well as his children. Thranduil and Legolas had also traveled to Imladris more than once over that time, and they had never been in any danger.

But neither of them had given any indication that that had been their intent until now. Elrond shook his head slightly with frustration. Over those years, he had trusted both Aeglironion and Amonost because they had never given him a reason not to. There had been no indication of deceit from either of them. The Elf lord had trusted his wife around them, his advisors, his children. They had been nothing but kind to him and his family.

What had caused that to change? Nothing had happened, as far as he could tell, that had caused Aeglironion's rage toward him and Thranduil to resurface while he had been in Imladris. If he had truly hated them this strongly since his banishment from Greenwood, why had he waited so long to act upon it? What had prevented him from acting sooner? It would have been so simple to target him first since there had been plenty of opportunities to do so, and then to target the Mirkwood king when that chance was granted to him. This could have been finished long before now, and Aeglironion and Amonost could have potentially slipped away undetected.

Though, Elrond reasoned, it was something he would probably never understand. There was some reason why the traitorous Elf had acted when he had, though if he would share that come morning when he faced judgement would remain to be seen. Either way, he looked forward to when this matter could be put to rest.

However, as he opened the door to his room, the Elf lord knew he might not find the peace he sought even once this ordeal was done with. There was something about Aeglironion and what he had done that was not settling well with him other than his actions themselves, he just was unsure what it was. There was something they were missing. He carefully set the bowls down on the low table beneath the window before his gaze moved down to Estel once more when his small hand tightened a bit on his light tunic. He could understand the cook's desire to bring physical harm to himself and Thranduil for deciding his banishment, but he still did not understand why Aeglironion had taken Estel when he had had no part in what had transpired. Other than bringing harm to him in a different way since he had not been able to poison him as he had the king, Elrond was unsure why he had taken the boy. It was an act that, to him, seemed almost desperate. It was something he would have to address when they spoke to their prisoners in the morning.

Elrond sighed quietly, placing his chin on top of Estel's head. The child was safe, Thranduil was alive, their families were all on the path to healing, and their prisoners had been secured. That was all that mattered.

But as the lord of Imladris began to make his way to his bed to set Estel in it, he paused when the boy in his arms began to whimper in his sleep, his closed eyes narrowing in distress. Elrond held him close, running a hand through his wild dark hair. "Shh, ion-nín, it is all right," he murmured soothingly with a small smile. "You are safe. You may rest easy."

However, Estel could not be consoled as he began to move restlessly in his foster father's arms, almost seeming as though he was attempting to break free of his grasp. Elrond's eyes narrowed as he sat down on the bed, attempting to secure him on his lap. "Estel, calm yourself, ion-nín..."

Soon, the boy's frantic movements and whimpering stopped, and the Elf lord smiled with relief. But then, Estel raised his head from his shoulder as he sat straight up on his lap, though he kept his tight hold on his tunic. Elrond's brow furrowed slightly as he watched his foster son slowly look around the room before his wandering gaze found his face, and an unsettled feeling came over his heart when he saw terror in those wide, gray eyes.

"Estel, it is all right, tithen pen," he said, lightly setting a hand on the back of the child's head. "You are safe. It was merely a dream, ion-nín. Sleep now."

Though Estel seemed not to hear his words as he simply stared back at him, his eyes still wide and his face pale with fear. A slight tremble started in his fingers. With a sigh, Elrond gently brought the boy's head back to rest against his shoulder, wrapping his other hand around his smaller ones to stop their shaking. "Sleep, ion-nín," he whispered, closing his eyes as he willed him to feel peace. "It was merely a dream."

It was not long before he felt by Estel's even breathing that he had fallen back asleep, and Elrond slowly looked down at him. It was not unusual for the five-year-old to suffer from dark dreams, for he had had them ever since he had been under his care. Though normally, he would wake screaming or crying and call out for him. The boy's silence had been unnerving, as it was something he was not accustomed to.

"It was merely a dream," Elrond repeated to assure both of them before he left a light kiss on top of Estel's head, holding him close. The child did not stir.

Though the Elf lord knew that rest would be needed for what was awaiting him come morning, it was something that would continue to elude him with how much he had yet to come to terms with with this ordeal. And he also knew the look in his foster son's eyes was one that would continue to haunt him for the rest of the night.

Author's Note: So, there we go! I know there wasn't too much action yet, but I felt everyone's reflections on what happened in the first were important, too, and as I mentioned before, it was really meant to set the tone for what's to come for our favorite characters. I can't promise that updates will be quite as frequent as they were for "Tainted" due to some of the reasons about what got in the way of writing it in the first place and being busy, but I'll do my best! Thanks again for those of you who stuck with me, and I'm sorry that it took so long to get here! And welcome aboard to anyone new! Thanks for reading! See you guys next time!