Love of thy Father

Story: The children of the remaining fellowship are kidnapped by the dark and challenge their fathers to find them.

Note: If I've spelt any of the Middle Earthen place names wrong, please let me know. Otherwise, enjoy, review, and don't blame me if the spellchecker left anything out!

Disclaimer: I do not own these charaters, nor do I make any profit from this spec. I mean no harm,

Gondor, Minas Tirith:-

Alleria was woken as someone roughly lifted her up. She didn't realise what was going on at first, not until she heard the ugly whispering and smelled that disgusting smell. Orc. Orcs were kidnapping her! While she beat at the thick, disgusting flesh of the beast carrying her, she screamed until she thought her lungs might burst from the effort. There wasn't anything else she could do, the only thing that could be considered a weapon an unlighted torch, which while producing a dull thud that was quickly swallowed by the commotion her screams had begun, had had absolutely no other effect. Frustrated she kicked at her attackers and pounded their backs but it did no more good than the first time.

"Calm yourself, Princess. T'would be a shame for our little adventure to mar your beauty."

She strained to face the direction from which the honey smooth baritone had come. Out of the corner of her eye she did manage to catch a glimpse of a tall man standing near the window of her room. His face was turned away from the orcs as if in distaste for the scene before him.

"Cover her mouth and let's be done." His voice was customarily cold. He stepped past the orcs towards the door with his face turned into the air; as this show of disgust took place she caught a glimpse of a handsome face and black eyes before the stinking flesh of an orc's meaty fist clamped down over her mouth.

By now servants and a few of the higher ranking lords were awake and out in the corridors, but sleep made them slow to react to the small band of Orcs and the mysterious figure commanding them. The result was chaos and too many of the servants dead under the smashing fists and blades of the dark creatures. The noise of skirmish reached the King's rooms in the form of a faint, horrific, chorus. Screams were mixed with the dark tongue of fallen Mordor and the clashing of steel against steel, but there was one that carried further than the others, one that fairly flew to the tapered ears of Queen Arwen. Her daughter's scream, muffled as it was. In an instant she was awake, shaking the still sleeping form of her husband.

"Elssar, Elssar, something's happening, wake up!" She yelled at him. Unsurprisingly he bolted upright, grabbing for the sword that wasn't there at his side before he could stop himself. His eyes focused on the distressed, pale face next to him. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but his ears decided to join the party and recognised the too well known sound of battle. It clicked in a moment.

"Alleria!"

Quicker than even the members of the fellowship would have given him credit for, he was out the doorway, scooping Andruil up from it's cradle on his way, to race down the corridors Within moments Arwen was in the hallway also and her arrows did not fail to hit their mark, but there were too many of them and once Elssar was knocked unconscious they stole away into the night leaving only a letter and destruction in their wake.

Dwarfs camp:-

Gimli swung his axe and with every blow knocked the head from another orc, just as his kin were doing around them. Eventually the Orc retreated and Gimli was left staring around the battlefield looking for his daughter and wife. His fellows were all returning to their worried families on the sidelines, and he was forced the order guards and provisions before he had a chance to move from where he stood. Young Gerlot was nowhere to be seen and it was one of the others who brought the letter to him. His wife by this time had shuffled over to where he stood frowning over the muddy piece of parchment. The hand was untrained, and he thought perhaps it was the grunting mammoth of a being that had led the ugly bands.

"What's wrong?" She asked, trying to see the writing, but her husband folded it up and put it away.

"They took her, Tegid. I've got to go and find her."

"Gimli, be careful. Get her back."

"I'll go to Mirkwood and get Legolas' help. I promise I'll get her back."

And with that Gimli set his axe upon his back and started for nearby Mirkwood.

Mirkwood, Elven King's palace:-

Lothlorn bowed low before his king, the court muttering approvingly around him at the show of respect. The Elven King himself looked more than a little sour, maybe it was because of the reports about the Spiders recent attacks on the outlying villages or maybe it was his son's behaviour. He sighed, pushing blonde hair out of his face with no little frustration when the younger elf didn't rise.

"Lothlorn, please stand up. How often do I have to tell you not to bow?"

"At least once more, Father." Lothlorn replied, finally standing to face the older version of him. The two elves stared at each other in silence for a little while, and still did not break the gaze when the King dismissed his courtiers with a brief wave of his hand.

"What is it, my son?"

"You ordered me away from the hunting parties."

"Yes."

The Princling cast a hurt look at his father, demanding an explanation from him without speaking a word. Sighing heavier than before, Legolas gestured for Lothlorn to come closer and sit on the step at his feet.

"Lothlorn, you have only begun to learn weapon craft and this is a dangerous time in the Greenwood."

"It's always a dangerous time, Father! Tell me, is it Orcs or Spiders this time!"

"Your fellows are not skilled enough to participate, and although your teachers tell me you are the most skilled, they will not stand for me to risk your life!"

Their voices had long ago begun to rise, and the gathering of guards and courtiers despaired at yet another argument between Prince and King. It seemed, as they often remarked, that they were simply too alike for their own good. Amongst them was Glorfindel who had known such scenes before in Mirkwood when Legolas was growing up.

"You care more for the opinion of your teachers than you do of your son!"

"You imagine things! Lothlorn, I am your Father and your King! You will bear my judgment and trust that it is the right one!"

The last echoes of the final shout echoed around the chamber, and without Glorfindel shook his head. Within, storm grey eyes met his son's brown eyes in utter silence.

"I hate being your Prince." He ground out.

Lothlorn Greenleaf stormed angrily from his father's presence, not even pausing to mutter his apologies to the elves he'd shouldered into walls on his hurried way out into the peaceful courtyard. Small pants came from the elfling as he collapsed onto the steps in a decidedly ungraceful manner. Some days he seriously wondered if his father even gave a damn about him, he was always too concerned about the orc threat to do anything but argue with him.

Ignoring the voices of the forest, Lothlorn dropped his face into his hands. It turned out that this was a hugely stupid thing to do as two dark figures jumped out and grabbed him, causing him to drop the bow and quiver he'd taken along to prove his point. He managed to get out one yell that mingled with the cries of the nearby trees before he was gagged and dragged away into the foreboding depths of Mirkwood. A third dark figure hung behind, leaving a letter atop the quiver of the elven Princling. It left far more silently than Orcs had any business leaving a crowded forest.

The last leaf had shifted back into its customary place when a second elf, taller and more commanding than the young Prince but with the same length of blonde hair appeared at the doorway leading out onto the now empty space.

"My Son?" King Legolas called out into the courtyard and the trees beyond, a frown quickly marring his ethereal features as the minutes lengthened and no answer came. The blonde hair he shared with his only child stirred in the night's air, which as ever seemed to carry something of the waves even this far from the ocean. But tonight he heard the forests voice for the first time in five years – and it was a terrible sound. A sound he recognised from the days when the Necromancer still hounded his people. Worried for his son suddenly, he searched for any sign of Lothlorn.

It didn't take him long to discover the quiver lodged atop a pile of leaves near the courtyards' modest fountain. Nor did it take long for him to tare open and read the letter by the moon's gracious light.

"No…" His hands shook slightly, but otherwise appeared as unaffected as ever even while he called for his guards. He would send out a hunt for Lothlorn, but it would do no good.

P.S. If I get reviews I'll continue. If I don't the spec goes in the recycle bin.

If anyone can tell me what this is in sindarin – hell if anyone can provide me with an elvish translator – I will be eternally grateful to you.