"What do you think happened?" Estel asked softly. The service in the mausoleum had finished, and the bodies of the soldiers had been laid to rest in tombs. A procession following Airëlus' bier had made its way out into the courtyard, where a final farewell would be made to the Crown Prince. Everything had come to a halt though, when Legolas had been found lying in a pool of his own blood next to the fountain.

Elrohir sighed, and shook his head slightly. "You read the letter. I think it is clear what happened."

"I do not believe that Legolas would do something like that," Estel said firmly. "Has Thranduil read it yet?"

"No, he is with Ada and Mithrandir," Elrohir replied. "You know, I had forgotten about him. Can you imagine his reaction when he finds out that Legolas has-?

"Stop it!" Elladan cut in. "Both of you are jumping to conclusions. It is Legolas alone who can tell us what happened, so until that time comes, you must be careful with what you say."

Exhaling deeply, Estel picked up the letter, and read through it once more. "All I will say is this: I refuse to believe that Legolas did it. He would not."

"You think that Calaen still lives," Elladan said quietly. "You think he did it."

"I did not say that," Estel replied. "Look, why would Legolas want to do something like this? Why would he want to cause so much more pain to his father?"

"Do not forget how much he despises that word engraved into his flesh," Elrohir said.

The human looked up, and his eyes flashed. "Must you describe it like that?" he demanded. "I am sure that there are other ways to do so."

"Stop being incongruous," Elrohir replied.

The door suddenly flew open and Thranduil stormed into the room, ignoring the three who were already there, as he threw himself into a chair and rested his head in his hands. Gandalf and Lord Elrond followed at a slightly calmer pace, although the expressions on their faces were identical ones of worry and poorly disguised distress.

"How does Legolas fare?" Elladan asked carefully.

Elrond sighed, and shook his head sadly. "He is well. The weakened state that he was already in was what made him fall unconscious so soon after the attack. As to who did it, I cannot tell you."

"There is something that you should know," Estel said hesitantly, passing the note to Thranduil.

The Elven-king read it, and as he did so, the expression on his face flicked from pity, to horror, and then finally, to anger. His eyes flashed silver, and wordlessly, he threw the letter back onto the desk. There was silence, and all was still for a moment, but then Elrond picked it up and slowly unfolded it, wondering whether he actually wanted to know or not.

"Read it aloud," Gandalf directed, seating himself, and lacing his fingers together.

Elrond sighed deeply, but nodded all the same. "I am sorry for all the trouble and pain that I have caused. I am sorry for killing Naneth, for killing Airëlus, for tearing this family apart. Calaen has made a mark, both on my body and my soul. I can be rid of the mark on my body, but the one on my soul will stay forever. I am sorry for what I am going to do, but I must do it. I have no desire to carry on. If I should live, I will remain unhappy, and try to do this again. Please, do not hold this against me. It is what I want."

As the Elf Lord finished reading, Gandalf leant forwards and rested his head in his hands. Thranduil directed his cold gaze out of the window, though what he focused on was anyone's guess. Estel's face remained impassive, but inside, he was screaming for them not to believe what was written in the letter. They couldn't believe it. Eventually, the Wizard spoke, his voice harsh in the tense silence.

"Are you sure this was written by Legolas?"

"It is his writing," Thranduil replied monotonously.

Gandalf nodded slowly, and lit his pipe. "Are you certain of that? You did not look at it for very long."

"After years of reading the words of your child, you come to know what their styles of writing are!" Thranduil snapped. "Yes, he wrote this. I do not doubt it."

"What will you do?" Estel asked softly.

"I do not know." The Elven-king sighed, and shook his head angrily. "My son has just….has just attempted to take the life that was given to him by Ilúvatar, and that in itself is a sin. What can I do? I will speak to him, but whether he will listen to me or not…"

'That works both ways,' Estel thought sadly. 'Will you listen to him?'

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Legolas lay on his bed, running things over and over again in his mind. Berian had tried to kill him. He had spoken of Calaen as though he were still alive. It would make a lot of sense, for it was now common knowledge that his body had not been found. But why would the Rivendell guard do such a thing? He was no traitor. Or, was he? And if he was, why? There were so many questions, and so few answers.

But he was spared from further contemplation by the door swinging open. Thranduil entered, and without a word, sat down in a chair beside the bed, cold eyes not once leaving his son. Silently, he pulled something out from inside his robes, and held it out. But still, he did not speak.

"What are you…what are you doing?" Legolas asked softly, staring at the knife in his father's hand.

"You did not succeed down in the courtyard, so I thought that maybe you would like to try again," Thranduil replied. "After all, you said in your letter that you would remain unhappy if you lived. So here you are. Take this knife. Kill yourself."

"That letter was not written by me," Legolas said incredulously. "Ada, I did not do this to myself."

"Why did you slash yourself across the stomach?" Thranduil demanded, ignoring his son's protests. "Any fool could tell you that it is not enough to end your life. No, the proper way is to slit your throat. Or you could do it the tragic way, and stab yourself in the heart. That would get it done quickly."

"Why are you saying this?" Legolas breathed.

The Elven-king spun the knife so that it was pointing directly at his own chest. "But before you kill yourself, will you kill me? Because all of this, everything that you are doing to yourself is breaking my heart. After all that I have said to you, you do something like this. You try and take your own life. Why, Legolas? Was it to spite me? Was it to cause more pain to those who care?"

"Ada, stop!" the Prince cried, reaching out and grabbing the blade. He threw it to the ground, and looked up desperately. "I have no wish to cause pain to anyone, especially you. Why do you not believe that I did not do this to myself?"

"Then, who did?" Thranduil demanded. "You were the only one out there. Everyone else was attending the service."

"It was Berian. I do not know if you remember him or not, but he left Mirkwood many years ago. But now he has returned. He came back with the riders who went to Rivendell with Airëlus," Legolas replied. "Calaen really is still alive, and Berian is a traitor. Ada, he did this for Calaen. He told me."

Thranduil shook his head, and smiled sadly. "This…Berian is not here. The only Elves from Rivendell are Elrond and the twins. I know this, because I watched the riders entering the courtyard. There were ten of them. That is no more or less than when they set out."

"I know, but…. Ada, I would not lie about something like this," Legolas said desperately. "You must believe me."

"I want to," Thranduil replied. "I am sorry, but until I know what has happened-

The Prince jumped from the bed, and grabbed the front of his father's robes. "If you do not believe me, Calaen will come back. He will gain more and more power, and will do everything that he can to be rid of us. Please, listen to me. Berian said that Calaen will never cease to cause damage to us. If I do not have your trust and belief, how can we prevent that from happening?"

"I will send out patrols to search for Calaen and Berian, if that will calm your nerves," Thranduil said, standing, and pushing Legolas gently away. "I am sorry to have to do this, but you have left me no other choice. Until I say so, you are to have no contact with any form of blade." With that, he reached down and picked up the knife that had been dropped.

"It is only Calaen who will cause me harm!" Legolas shouted, as his father went over to the door. "Not myself!"

Thranduil paused, and turned to face the Prince. "I am sorry, but I have to do this. I have to do it because I love you too much to see you in any more pain."

"And if Calaen comes here?" Legolas asked bitterly. "Would I be able to defend myself? No, because you would have taken all of my weapons. Ada, I am telling you the truth. For once, believe me."

"You will not need to defend yourself, because Calaen will not be coming here," Thranduil said, pulling open the door. "I am sorry."

Legolas watched in absolute despair as his father silently left the room. As soon as the door was closed, he let out a yell of anger, and slammed a fist into the wall, not caring if the Elven-king heard. Deep down, he knew that there was no reason why anyone should believe that he had been attacked. Calaen really had set up the perfect suicide.

But he had to convince them that he was telling the truth. He had to. If he did not, then Calaen would become powerful, very powerful. Already he had managed to corrupt Berian, and it was only a matter of time before he made more friends and got more followers. And what would happen to Middle Earth, then?

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Out in the forest, everything was quiet - except for the mournful lament of the trees. They sang songs of grief for the Elves that had so recently passed on, and they cried also for the troubles of King Thranduil and Prince Legolas. The birds were still and quiet as they watched over the palace, and as the wild animals skulked through the woods, they made no noise.

Sitting under a large oak tree a way from the palace, was an Elf, dark haired and evil eyed. A smile played on his lips as he listened to the songs of the forest. His plan had worked. But he could tarry no longer. He would leave, and go far away. He would return, though. One day. After all, this was his home. The trees, he owned. The animals, he owned. The people….he owned. And one day, he would return, and claim what was rightfully his….

THE END

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Wow...I....that...you...wow is the only word I can say at the moment. Really, I totally didn't think that I would get so many reviews for this fanfic. But...wow! You guys are so amazing, and thank you so much for all the help and ideas that you've given me throughout this story. Honestly, I couldn't have done it without you. But now, it's over. How sad. I didn't realize that this would be the last chapter, so when I wrote all that, it was a bit of a shock! But the sequel will be up in a few days. It will be set in the time of the Fellowship, so you'll see other characters like Frodo and Sam and everyone else. See you soon!

Mistopurr

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PS: I had author notes and individual responses in all of the other chapters, but I've just been doing a few minor changes, and I accidentally deleted them. They weren't important to the story, though, so that doesn't matter.