Legolas breathed deeply, trying to remain calm. In the small cell, illuminated only by the soft glow of the three elves, his old fear of dark, tight places came to surface again and he fought to hold it back.

But it was not only that fear that troubled his mind. What was probably even worse was the fear for his father. He knew how bad Thranduil's injuries were, and that they needed looking after. Being chained like this could make his state even worse. Legolas knew his father was hovering somewhere near the verge of death, and there was nothing he could do. If he at least were able speak to him, comfort him somehow… but there was no way he could.

Legolas knew he had to occupy his thoughts, to keep them away from the walls that seemed to be closing in on him, and from his father, whom he could not help.

He decided to speak to Gaerfin. Perhaps the young elf could need a distraction as well.

'Gaerfin?'

'Yes, my lord?' Gaerfin's voice was trembling slightly; he was still somewhat shocked. Legolas could understand him; he didn't want to imagine how he would feel in the other elf's place.

'Please, Gaerfin, it is Legolas. My and my father's being royalty is better kept secret here,' he said in a low voice, in case someone was standing outside the door, though he didn't really believe it.

'I am sorry, my- Legolas,' the red-haired elf apologized. It just felt strange not to address his prince in the respectful form.

'You need not be, mellon nîn,' Legolas said softly. 'You did nothing wrong.'

Gaerfin nodded quietly, though he was not sure the prince had seen it. His mind was far too occupied to think about it. He was so glad to have finally found his brother, yet he feared for him, as he feared for Thranduil and Legolas – and for himself. Though he tried very hard to banish that part of his fears from his mind, considering it a weakness, Gaerfin was scared.

'I did not know you had a brother.' Legolas soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. He didn't answer for a while, again lost in thought, but then decided it would perhaps do him good to talk. 'He disappeared, seven years ago,' he said quietly.

'Disappeared?' Legolas normally wasn't that inquisitive, but he was sure that talking would help both of them.

'Yes, it was… totally unexpected,' Gaerfin began. 'We've always lived far away from trouble, somewhere in the North, where there never came any other beings than elves, let alone intruders of any kind. But one day… one day Gilfaron went out into the woods with his two friends Nauthlain and Maedir.'

Gaerfin swallowed hard before he continued. 'Only Maedir returned. It is a miracle that he survived. He came to our house in the middle of the night and collapsed on the doorstep, with an arrow in his back. I don't know how he came that far, and I don't think he knows either.'

Gaerfin turned his head to look at Legolas. The prince had been listening quietly and now returned Gaerfin's look, wordlessly encouraging him to go on. The young warrior did, this time looking at Legolas as he spoke.

'We were so scared,' he said quietly, 'scared for Maedir, but also for my brother and Nauthlain, who had not returned at all. The healers doubted that Maedir would live to see the dawn, but he fought and survived. It took him long to recover. I think he felt guilty, because he had not been able to help his friends, though we all tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault. I think he still feels guilty about it.

Anyway, as soon as he could speak again, he told us what had happened. They had been attacked by some figures whose race he could not make out, for they all wore hoods to conceal their faces. The three had been greatly outnumbered and had held no chance of winning that fight.'

Gaerfin's voice faded into a whisper. 'They had taken Gilfaron and Nauthlain away. Maedir only escaped because they thought him dead. Why they did this and who they were he could not tell. But I think I know now.'

The young elf turned his gaze away from Legolas as he finished the tale. 'It was that day I decided to become a warrior. I wanted to find them, and let them pay for everything they had done to my brother and my friends. That day, I swore revenge.'

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All air was forced from Elrohir's lungs as he hit the ground and for moments he could not move. He only managed to turn his head. He couldn't let them see his face… they would recognise his features in Elladan's face when they returned; even if he didn't get captured it would put his brothers into danger even more than they already were.

He heard the men halt their horses and get down to move towards him. // I can't let them get me// he thought, desperately trying to find a way to escape. But his head and body hurt and he felt dizzy, which didn't make it easier to think.

There was only one chance to escape. Elrohir painfully turned onto his stomach, lifted his head and gave a long whistle. He broke off when one of the men brutally seized his shoulder and turned him around. Automatically the elf turned his head so that his hair obscured his face.

'Don't want to look at us, eh?' the man said. 'Too frightened, are you, elf?' Elrohir showed no reaction. The man kicked him hard, making him hiss in pain. Perhaps the fall had done more damage than he had thought. But still he didn't move.

It was when one of the men, angered by his lack of response, wanted to force him to look at them that he finally heard what he had been waiting for since he had sent his whistled call.

There were hoof beats coming towards them, indicating that three horses were coming closer in full gallop. Counting on the element of surprise, Elrohir sprang to his feet, knocking back the man that had tried to see his face. He ran off to where the sound came from, leaving his hunters stunned for a moment. They really had not expected him to get up, let alone to be able to run with the arrow in his leg.

But Elrohir did, and although he was limping badly, trying to put the least possible weight on his injured leg, he managed to reach the horses before the men had any chance of catching up. He pulled himself up onto Fuintor's back and turned to see that the men too, cursing, were mounting their horses again to go after him.

'Noro lim!' he called to the horses and they once again ran off at full speed, resuming their tactic of splitting up, trying to mislead the men. When Elrohir was sure they were behind him again, he turned northwards, riding straightforward this time without any unexpected turns. He wanted to make them believe that this was where he was headed, although he really wanted to leave the wood on the western side to go alongside the borders of Anduin.

At the next possible moment he pulled himself up into the trees again, telling Fuintor to lead them on to the North but to follow him westward as soon as possible. Then he moved through the trees as fast and quietly as he could, this time careful not to be seen. He had his teeth clenched all the time not to give a sound of pain, as his leg protested against the strain he put on it. He nearly sighed in relief when he finally saw Ruinóriel somewhere beneath him. He gave a soft call and slid from the tree onto her back when she came closer.

'Bring me out of here, mellon nîn,' he said softly, holding onto her mane and she galloped off westwards. He hoped that the other four horses managed to confuse the men enough that they could follow him soon without being chased.

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He had been riding hard for a long time now. Fuintor and the others had caught up with him a while ago, having left the men rather disoriented in the forest. By now Elrohir was so exhausted that he could do nothing more than hold onto Ruinóriel's mane and try not to fall. He barely sensed his surroundings anymore. He felt sore and his leg ached terribly.

Suddenly Ruinóriel slowed down and came to a halt. He vaguely perceived other riders around him, though he could not make out who they were and what they were doing. He heard excited voices, but he couldn't make out words.

It was then that his hands began to lose their grip on the horse's mane. He felt himself slide off her back, unable to catch himself, but then there was someone who caught him gently and lowered him to the ground.

He recognized the loving touch immediately and smiled. Now he was safe.

'Mae govannen, ada,' he said weakly. / Well met. /