Disclaimer: I own no part of Middle-earth, and no amount of wishing can change that (sigh!). This story was written purely for enjoyment.
Author's Note: This story was written for the August 2008 Teitho Challenge (Growing Up) and gives a bit of the back story to my other fic, Many Meetings, although you can read either of them without having read the other. The main story is set when Legolas was around 1600 years old. A couple of typos have been edited out, but otherwise it's identical to the version sent to Teitho.
Note on Edit: My beta pointed out to me that I've been a bit premature in referring to Greenwood as "Eryn Lasgalen" before it was officially renamed (le hannon, Cal!) - so this edit is just to fix those references.
Please review and let me know what you think of this… Feedback and concrit much appreciated!
Summary: Several centuries before the Battle of the Five Armies, King Thranduil is forced to admit that his son has grown up and is ready to undertake the full extent of his duties as a defender of the realm.
Rating: G, perhaps a mild PG for violence and/or angst – just to be safe.
Warriors
Legolas Thranduilion made himself comfortable against the trunk of the oak. The watch was likely to be long.
He was riding with the Colhador at the request of its commander. While Legolas was not officially a member of Greenwood's elite archery unit, he had all the qualities required – which, in the main, were equal parts skill, courage and recklessness. He had ridden with them several times, and most of the warriors were very good friends of his, although they did tend to tease him about how King Thranduil simply could not bear to see his beloved child don the jade cloak of a Colhador warrior.
Part of the reason Legolas enjoyed riding with the Colhador on missions was the insistence of Thorontur, the commander, that the prince's guards would not join them. Eredhion and Voronwë were as bad as his father when it came to fussing over him.
"Wake up!" an elleth said cheerfully from a branch close by. "It would not do for the mission to fail because the prince was so tired out by his royal duties that he could not keep his eyes open."
Legolas snorted. "I am awake, Aeroniel. I was just thinking."
"Thinking of what?"
"Ada."
The elleth laughed, but there was understanding in her face. "The Elfling enjoys his rare day of freedom… I suppose those of us who are not trueborn princes of the Sindar can console ourselves that at least we do not need nannies."
"Aeroniel?"
"My prince?"
"Labo vi Orodruin."
"Enough!" Thorontur snapped suddenly. "With all the noise you're making, they can probably hear you in Valamar. I believe Rochendilwen has located the orcs."
He leapt from his high branch to the ground in a smooth motion and raised his hand to gesture sharply. At once, a dozen Elves, including Legolas and Aeroniel, dropped from the trees, landing with scarcely any noise on the loosely-packed soil.
Thranduil stood anxiously on one of the broad balconies carved into the mountain that housed the sprawling expanse of his palace. From this vantage point he could see practically everything that happened within the stronghold… the horses being exercised in the stableyard, the Elflings shooting at targets in the main practice field, Elves who lived in the outlying forest coming to meet friends who worked in the palace… He would have been happy to see none of this if he could only have seen the returning Colhador warriors instead.
He caught a glimpse of a pair of Elves, armed as though for battle, pacing the main courtyard anxiously, and he had to smile. Eredhion and Voronwë were nearly as anxious as he was, and they did not have a private balcony with a screen of hanging ivy to hide them from prying eyes.
The Elvenking was not certain how long he stood there, scanning the horizon eagerly, before there were footsteps behind him and a broad-shouldered Elf appeared at his side. He, like Thranduil, was clad only in a light tunic, leggings, and a singola, a silvery-grey cloak that the lords of the Sindar wore in memory of Elwë Thingol.
"Arbellason," Thranduil said, acknowledging the presence of the commander-in-chief of his armies.
"Thranduil," the warrior replied. "The hour grows late. Almárean thinks you have been eaten by giant spiders."
"He knows where to find me."
"Thranduil, when you stand here seeing nothing but the gates, waiting with bated breath for a glimpse of golden hair, nobody knows where to find you."
The king sighed. "I cannot help it, Arbellason. He is all I have left of Lindariel."
"We know that," Arbellason responded quietly. "There is not an Elf in the Greenwood who knew the queen and did not love her… And we cannot help but love Legolas as well, we who saw him as a babe and watched him grow. But you cannot stand here alone gazing into the distance every time he goes on patrol."
"Any father would."
"You are not any father. You are the King. And your son is our prince. He battles the evil of the Necromancer just as you once did. It is his duty, and his right."
"And I stand waiting on the balcony, just as my father once did."
"Then, since you follow your father in this, will you follow him in one thing more?"
Thranduil turned to his friend, eyes narrowing. "What?"
"It is time Legolas was given his own command. On his next begetting day he will be old enough, by our law, and he has had the skill for decades."
"He does have his own command! He leads patrols!"
"He should lead a division of bowmen. It is time, Thranduil. He is ready. Are you?"
"No," admitted the king. "And I doubt I ever will be… If something happens to him there will be none of my blood left in Middle-earth. But I sense that I have little choice."
"You have no choice at all. He is your son; he will not stand inaction for long… Much like another young ellon I once knew."
"What do you advise?"
"For now? Just prepare yourself mentally… In any case it will be some time before I can find a suitable command for him. And now come in to dinner, before Almárean sends a search party into the forest."
With an unwilling laugh, Thranduil followed his friend inside.
Around a thousand years ago…
"The child is an archer," Thorontur said with appreciation, watching as a young golden-haired ellon sent arrow after arrow straight into the centre of the target.
"Hardly a child," replied Arbellason. "Or do you share the king's delusion that Legolas is an Elfling still?"
Thorontur laughed. "Not in the least. He is a warrior, and I am proud of it – I have had more to do with his training than the Archery Master. I wanted to ask your aid, as a matter of fact. I want Thranduil to put Legolas under my command."
"You want Legolas to join the Colhador."
"Of course. It would be a terrible waste to have him doing anything else. Have you seen him with his knives? He was born to be a warrior, and my heart tells me that a time is fast approaching when we will need warriors. The shadow has not been utterly defeated."
"That may be, but I do not think Thranduil will see it that way."
End of flashback.
"Daro."
Thorontur spoke softly but the effect was immediate; arrows were dropped back into quivers, knives slid into sheaths and bows lowered.
"Who is injured?" Thorontur asked. "And I expect everybody to answer immediately and truthfully. Anybody who fails to do so will be on kitchen duty for a month." There was silence. Thorontur sighed. "All right, is anybody injured badly enough to be unable to ride?"
The Elves shook their heads, but Thorontur noticed several of them shifting uncomfortably and crouching for superfluous checks that orcs were really dead. With another sigh, he turned around on the pretext of scanning the woods, waiting until the sound of Elves staggering to their feet had died down before he turned back again.
"I'm getting too old for this," he grumbled. "All right, all of you – well done, I'm pleased that everybody is at least capable of standing without assistance; now let's go back. The King must be frantic."
Legolas flushed, even as most of the others chuckled. Rochendilwen patted him on the shoulder as she passed him to help Aeroniel bring the horses from where they had been concealed in a nearby thicket.
"Come along, Elfling," a dark-haired ellon said merrily, his warrior braids swinging as he leapt onto his horse. "Let's take you home to your ada."
"You will have his thanks, at any rate,Saeldur," Legolas said wryly as he mounted.
"Not yours, tithen caun?"
"Enough," Thorontur said. "Let's go back. It is not exactly a short ride and I would not have it made longer by the bickering of Elflings." He smiled at both Legolas and Saeldur to take the sting out of his words. "You did well today, all of you. Now ride; we still have time to return to the stronghold before Ellaurë and her warriors."
The others exchanged grins; Thorontur's firstborn son, Feredir, was under Ellaurë's command in the Home Guard.
Around a thousand years ago…
"The Eastern Guard!" Thorontur roared. "Legolas is an archer, not some dimwitted swordsman like Mîr-Megil's idiots! He must ride with the Colhador."
"Mîr-Megil tells me he needs archers," Thranduil said mildly.
"He does not need Legolas! You must be reasonable, Thranduil. We will all do our best to keep the boy safe –"
"I am not worried about safety," the King said impatiently. "Well – no – that is not strictly true; I am worried about safety, but I would not try to keep Legolas from his duty, and I know he is just as likely to be killed under Mîr-Megil as –"
"Then why not let him ride with the Colhador?"
"Because he does not need to be taught more recklessness! Don't give me that look! You encouraged him to fear nothing and dare everything – frequently, I might add, you encouraged him to ignore my explicit instructions. His skill and courage are owed in large measure to you. This I know, Thorontur. I am not ungrateful. But he is my heir; if I sail before the dusk of Elves in Middle-earth, he must rule our people and for that he must learn prudence to temper bravery. The Colhador will not teach him that."
Thorontur sighed.
"I suppose you are right… But do not send him to the Eastern Guard. Let him serve in the Home Guard, at least, and ride with the Colhador as he can. You owe that much to the realm, and to him, and to yourself. He will be the best archer in all of Arda!"
Thranduil bit his lip.
"You must let go," Thorontur said gently. "He is not Lindariel, my King. He is a warrior and he must follow the path laid out for him. It may lead him far beyond these lands, beyond your care or mine."
"Very well," Thranduil said at last. "I will speak to Ellaurë." He smiled suddenly. "And what of Feredir? He has told me he wishes to be a warrior, although I was always under the impression that he was unsuited to battle."
"He is," Thorontur said quietly. "Celebwen and I have spoken to him, but he is stubborn – his friends are warriors; he insists that he will be one as well." His eyes darkened. "My King, with your leave, I will ask Arbellason to place Feredir in the Home Guard and warn Ellaurë to see that he does no harm to himself or anyone else."
Thranduil nodded. "Do that." He hesitated briefly. "Tell him, also, that there is no shame in not being a warrior. Eryn Galen has great need of Elves in the healing wards, to awaken young trees, to help the forest grow… Should he be wished to be released from his oaths at any time, I will do so gladly."
"Le hannon," Thorontur whispered.
End of flashback.
The horses picked up speed as they neared the stronghold, sensing their home. Thorontur smiled a little wistfully; in all his life he had envied Thranduil only one thing: that he could stand on the palace steps to welcome Legolas home from nearly every mission. Thorontur's duties frequently took him away from his home; he could not remember the last time he had waited in the stableyard for Feredir to dismount.
This worried him more than he had ever told anybody. Feredir, when all was said and done, was not a warrior in his soul. He had his mother's temperament, and Thorontur knew that his firstborn truly wanted to be a healer like Celebwen. But his duties as the commander of Mirkwood's archers seldom let him fulfill his duty to his son.
"You are worried."
Thorontur turned to see Legolas riding at his side; the others had gone on ahead.
"Yes," the older Elf said, unable to lie to Legolas' clear blue eyes. "I fear for Feredir."
The prince frowned in concern. "He hates battle," Legolas said slowly. "And he grows distant. I do not know him as well as I did when we were Elflings."
"That is no fault of yours, penneth. I do not know him as well as I ought either. He has grown distant from all of us." He glanced at Legolas. "I have a favour to ask." He waited for the young archer to nod before he continued. "Speak to Feredir. It will not be easy, but he will not hear me. You grew up together; he may yet listen to you. I want my son to be happy, and he will not be happy as long as he is a warrior."
"Of course," Legolas said. "It will suit me very well if he chooses to be a healer instead; I will have to listen to fewer lectures from ada and Barancrist."
Thorontur laughed. "I think you will find, Elfling, that Feredir is capable of outdoing even your ada when he puts his mind to it."
"My King! My King, they return."
Thranduil did not have to ask who they were. He was out of his study in less than half a minute and it took all his willpower to walk sedately through the seemingly-endless corridors that led to the main doors of the palace. He reached them just as the first green-clad warrior rode into the courtyard.
He forced himself to stay still while the company rode in, dismounted and gave their horses to the Elves who had come to take them. There was a brief exchange of words and then the warriors separated, most going in the direction of their homes or the warriors' quarters.
Thorontur and Legolas came up the palace steps together. Aware of the watching eyes of several Elves, Thranduil congratulated Thorontur on the success of the mission before patting his son on the shoulder and leading them both inside. He then proceeded to smother Legolas in a tight hug ("Ada! I can't breathe!") and asked him somewhat sternly whether there was any need to send for the healers.
"None at all," Thorontur said, grinning. "For once."
"Come to my study," Thranduil said. "Both of you. I'll send for Arbellason and you can make your report – I am told that Ellaurë's patrol will return within the hour, Thorontur, so that should leave you just enough time to tell me how wonderfully all your warriors fought and how skilled they are."
"I can tell you about how skilled this one is, at any rate," Thorontur laughed. "He even managed not to get in the way of a single arrow or scimitar."
Thranduil shook his head and beckoned to his page. "Ask Lord Arbellason to come to my study," he said. "And have the cooks send food up. Then find Voronwë and Eredhion and tell them Legolas has returned – although I daresay they know by now – and will be available for their inspection in my study."
"Inspection?" Legolas spluttered as the Elfling ran off.
"Yes," the King said firmly. "Inspection. They are answerable for your wellbeing. Don't argue. Hurry up; I'm sure Thorontur is tired, even if you are not."
They were joined very soon by Arbellason and the prince's guards. A report to the King and the commander was clearly just an excuse; nobody was in the mood for serious talk. They ate, and Arbellason insisted on Legolas demonstrating the main dueling positions with his knives to prove that he was not injured.
"Finished?" Legolas asked as he straightened from a crouch and sheathed the knives.
"I think so," Arbellason said. Then, as the sound of an Elven horn pierced the air, "Yes, I definitely think so. There is no way we will keep Thorontur here now, not even to admire your skill."
Around a thousand years ago…
"Don't sulk," Arbellason said. "You got far more than I expected. Thranduil seems to have promised you all you wanted, with the sole caveats that Legolas will not wear the jade cloak and that he will join Home Guard patrols when you do not need him."
"I suppose so," Thorontur admitted grudgingly. "But I do not know if it will be enough."
"Enough for what?"
The archer sighed. "I had hoped to train Legolas to take my place, in time. That may be more difficult now."
"You want Legolas to command the Colhador?"
"There is nobody else. I know we have skilled archers, but I cannot ask this of them."
Arbellason nodded his understanding. To lead the Colhador was an honour, but also a burden. During the war against Sauron Thorontur had seen his wife barely once a month, and never for longer than ten minutes. He had missed watching his sister-son grow up; his own son hardly knew him.
Although it was better now, there were signs that the shadow was increasing in strength once more. The lords of the Sindar in Eryn Galen were duty-bound to stand against the evil of Dol Guldur while they could, but the other Elves were entitled to such peace as could be had.
"It will be a long time before he is ready, in any case."
"A long time," Thorontur agreed, "even by our reckoning. But it will be some centuries yet before I grow weary. When that happens… I cannot leave the Colhador in the hands of someone unfit, and I cannot ask another Elf to endure what I have done these past years. At least with Legolas I can comfort myself that I ask no more of him than is his duty as Thranduil's son."
End of flashback.
Ellaurë was the first to enter the courtyard. Her head was bowed, her face downcast. The dozen Elves who had made up the patrol came close on her heels, each of them mirroring her expression closely. Thorontur could see Feredir hanging back, looking far more miserable than any of the others.
"Mae govannen, Ellaurë," Thranduil said in greeting as the elleth dismounted. "Has something befallen you?"
She looked up at him with worried eyes. "Not me, my King." Her eyes flitted from him to Thorontur and back, just as Feredir joined them.
"Ada." Thorontur felt an icy hand close over his heart. He had overseen the return of an injured warrior more times than he could remember, and never had any of them worn quite that look of defeat and despair. "Goheno nîn," Feredir said, in a deadened voice. "I have failed you."
"What – what happened?"
It was Ellaurë who replied. "It is Calathiel."
Thorontur jerked slightly at the mention of his youngest child. "Calathiel? What has happened to her? She is at home with Celebwen, surely."
"We saw her in the hands of the orcs," Ellaurë said quietly. "How they caught her I do not know. We tried to free her, but we were too few, and we were ill-equipped to fight so many orcs. We had to come back. I am sorry."
"We will send warriors after her," Thranduil said, as Arbellason put a hand on Thorontur's shoulder. "They will bring her back safely."
"How?" Thorontur said hoarsely. "The orcs will simply threaten to kill her as soon as they draw near. We cannot – I do not see –"
"He is right," said Legolas, who until then had remained silent. "We cannot send a patrol after Calathiel lest the orcs simply kill her rather than returning her to us. I will go. Feredir?"
Feredir nodded. "I will come with you. I do not know how much I can help you, but I will do what I can."
"Don't be ridiculous," Thorontur said. "If Ellaurë with her entire patrol could not overcome the orcs –"
"Who wants to overcome them?" Legolas was already walking towards the palace. "We only have to outwit them, get Calathiel and run. Two Elves can sneak into their camp unobserved."
"Four," Voronwë said firmly. "Don't argue, Legolas. We're coming with you. Go see about horses; Eredhion and I will get the weapons. There isn't time to waste."
"You cannot do this!" Thorontur protested, following Legolas into the stables. "You could be killed!"
"I could have been killed a thousand times before today."
"In the defense of the realm!"
"Is your daughter not part of the realm?" Legolas asked with a grin. "Or have you decided that you no longer wish to be one of my father's subjects?"
"I will come with you."
"You should stay here. Lady Celebwen will need your support at this time." Legolas led out four stallions; Faelwen and Feredir's horse could not be taken out again so soon. "Do not worry. We will bring the young Lady Calathiel home safely."
Thorontur shook his head, running back outside after Legolas. "You cannot do this!"
Legolas laughed as he mounted. "Have you no trust in my ability, hîr nîn?"
"Of course I trust –"
"Then be at peace. We will return with your daughter."
"I will not fail you again, ada," Feredir said as he mounted. "I will –"
"I know," Thorontur said quietly, taking the halter of his son's horse. "Whatever happens, penneth, remember that we love you and we do not blame you. Your mother and I expect you to do no more than you can. An archer may shoot wide; a warrior may fail. That does not make you less."
Feredir bowed his head. Thorontur, despite himself, could not hold back a stab of envy as Thranduil looked his son over and said only, "Go with Elbereth."
"Can you lead us to them?"
Feredir nodded. He had been silent, riding quietly beside Voronwë. "I remember the way. They had made camp – it is around two hours' ride."
"Let us hope they have not left." Legolas fingered his bow.
"From what we could ascertain, they were on their way to Dol Guldur."
Legolas shook his head. "Never mind that. So long as we get Calathiel out safely they can go to Dol Guldur or Mordor if they please. We cannot hope to stop them."
"Legolas?" Something in Feredir's voice made Eredhion and Voronwë exchange a glance and urge their horses to a canter. Legolas waited until they were out of earshot before he turned to Feredir.
"What is it, mellon nîn?"
"If we cannot get her out safely –"
"We will get her out safely," Legolas said. "I will not have it otherwise."
The ghost of a smile flitted across Feredir's face. "I have never known you to speak in that tone and fail, my prince. All the same… Mellon nîn, if we cannot get her away… We cannot leave her in their hands. You know what they will do to her."
Legolas' throat tightened. They all knew the unspeakable atrocities of which Sauron was capable. Normally, any Elf captured by orcs and past hope of rescue would be shot by one of the archers. But Calathiel was just a child…
"I understand," Legolas said softly.
"Will you do it? Please – I hope it will not come to that, but if it does… My hand has never been as steady as yours. I would not have her suffer more than necessary. Will you do it for me, mellon nîn?"
"Of course," Legolas said, although he shuddered inwardly at the thought. "But we will not let it come to that."
"Sit down, Lady Celebwen," Arbellason said. "And have courage."
The blonde elleth shook her head. "It is difficult to have courage when my baby is in the hand of those monsters. I cannot imagine a worse fate."
"I have full faith in your son," the commander said.
"You mean you have full faith in Legolas." Celebwen managed a smile. "So have I. But I fear for my children. Worse things than physical injury can befall Feredir."
"At any rate you seem to be taking it better than Thorontur," Arbellason commented wryly. Celebwen followed his gaze; her husband was pacing up and down the King's study wringing his hands and muttering to himself. Thranduil was much calmer; he was sitting at his desk reading a letter from Esgaroth as though his own son was reading in his room instead of wandering in orc-infested forests.
"How do you do it, my Lord?" Celebwen asked. "I would not have been able to handle your duties for a day."
Thranduil smiled at her, although there was worry in his face. "If I let concern for Legolas keep my from my duties I should not have done a single day's work for many years now. The boy tries my patience sorely. I have considered having him thrown in the dungeons for a few decades for the sake of my own peace of mind."
Arbellason laughed. "We will see how well you remember that resolution when they return. And have no fear, Lady Celebwen, they will return."
"At any rate they have not moved," Legolas muttered, peering through the branches. "I fail to see how they expect to reach Dol Guldur before Yule if they travel at this pace."
"Are you not capable of taking a gift from the Valar without complaining about it?" Voronwë enquired. "Orcs are idiots. We know this."
"Do you know where she is held, Feredir?"
"They had her in the centre of their camp, under guard. I do not know how we can get to her. Someone is bound to see."
"They will retire for the night soon," Eredhion murmured, "and leave a few guards to keep watch. I'll warrant we can leave it to Legolas to fell them quickly and quietly, once the others are asleep."
Legolas nodded. "We should be able to act in an hour or so. We can try to get closer to the camp now, as close as we can without their seeing us. You three get to the ground and wait nearby. I'll get the guards out of the way and signal when I'm done. Go in, get Calathiel and get out. Don't stop for anything and don't look back; I will take care of any who give chase. Once you're out get to the horses and ride."
"You cannot stay alone," Feredir objected.
"I will be in the trees," Legolas pointed out. "And I will probably be in less danger than any of you."
"But –"
"You know perfectly well there's no point arguing with him," Eredhion said. "He is as stubborn as a dwarf."
Calathiel was trying very hard not to drift into Elven dreams. She was tired, and it had been a difficult day. Her mother had been summoned urgently to the side of a grievously injured warrior, and knowing that it might be several hours before she was able to return, she had told her daughter to go to the palace and find one of her siblings or someone else to look after her.
Calathiel had gone to the palace, but neither her father nor her oldest brother had returned from patrol, and she had been unable to find her other brother or her sisters. She had been told many times that if she could find no member of her family she was to go to one of the practice fields and stay within sight of the warriors until somebody came for her. But she had been bored, and so she had slipped out of the stronghold.
Then orcs had found her. They had not hurt her, but Calathiel did not like them. There was something foul about their presence.
A few hours ago she had heard fighting, and she had thought she had seen Feredir in the distance. But nobody had come to her rescue.
She fidgeted, trying to get her hands free. It did no good, and after a few minutes' effort the little elleth subsided unhappily, resigning herself to staying put until somebody should come to save her.
Feredir, Voronwë and Eredhion crouched in the darkness of the trees near the orcs' camp, watching as the creatures finished their dinner, doused the fires and went to sleep. They could see Calathiel, bound hand and foot in the centre of the camp and guarded by two orcs.
They waited silently, although Voronwë and Eredhion could sense that Feredir was ready to burst. It seemed to take an eternity, but finally the orcs were all snoring, other than the few who were on the first watch. The guards spread out and stood on the edges of the campsite, facing outwards.
"Idiots," Feredir muttered. "Legolas can pick them off one at a time."
For a few minutes there was no movement, neither from the guards nor from the trees, and had they not known better they would have thought Legolas had fallen asleep. Then the first arrow shot from the leafy canopy overhead and struck one of Calathiel's guards in the throat. He fell with the faintest of sighs.
The other guard seemed to hear rather than sense the movement, but by the time he had turned there was an arrow in his throat and he, too, was toppling to the ground.
The arrows came with terrifying precision. When all the guards facing their side of the camp were dead, a soft whistle, just loud enough for Elven ears to hear, came from overhead. Noiselessly, the three ellyn crept into the camp.
Calathiel fortunately had the presence of mind to keep silent when she saw them. Eredhion cut her bonds swiftly, and Feredir swept her up into his arms, whispering, "You must be very still, Cala. We will have you home with ada and nana soon."
The three Elves hurried away, but the luck that had favoured them on the way in was not with them on the way out. One of the sleeping orcs woke – perhaps from some nightmare – and saw them, and promptly raised the alarm.
"Keep moving!" Voronwë shouted, as Feredir hesitated and fumbled for his knife. "Legolas will take care of any that give chase." He and Eredhion drew their knives and got on either side of Feredir, hacking at any scimitars that came too close. Fortunately most of the orcs were sleepy; it was easy to fight through them.
Through it all the Elves could hear the thwacks of Legolas' arrows hitting home.
They dived into the trees and ran towards the place where they'd left the horses. Feredir bit his lip in worry – it would be harder for Legolas to shoot to protect them now that they had left the clearing.
Almost as though in response to his thought, he heard a roar behind them and a scimitar flew by his arm to land quivering in the ground just in front of him.
"Oh, Valar," Eredhion groaned, as the three Elves turned to face the oncoming orcs. Feredir held his sister to him with one hand, drawing a knife with the other.
There was a sudden flash of gold and green and Legolas was standing between them and the advancing orcs, a knife in each hand. "Go!" he said. "I'll take care of them!"
"But –"
"Go! Get Calathiel to safety. I will be fine, I have no intention of letting these things kill me. I'll join you in a few minutes. Go!"
"Come," Voronwë said, taking Feredir's arm and pulling him towards the horses. "It is well not to argue with Legolas when he is holding his knives."
Thorontur had struggled with himself for some hours before making up his mind. He glanced now at Thranduil and Arbellason sitting side by side poring over a map, and at Celebwen and their oldest daughter Melda looking anxiously out the window.
Thorontur knew he had to do it, and he had to tell Thranduil… But there were other Elves who had to know first.
Quietly, he rose and left the King's study. He made his way outside and went to the long, low building beside the archery ranges, where Eryn Galen's military units had their halls. The halls were large, airy rooms used as armouries and practice chambers. They led off from a narrow corridor through broad double doors. Thorontur pushed open a pair of doors emblazoned with a bow crossed by two knives – the symbol of the Colhador.
The near wall of the hall was given over to rack after rack of long knives, blades glinting in the lamplight. On the far wall were hung bows, and large wicker baskets bristling with arrows. The floor between them was covered with woven mats for sparring with knives or hand-to-hand, in which activity several Elves were engaged.
They looked up as he entered and came to him with exclamations of concern and sympathy; they would have heard about Calathiel by now.
"But do not worry," Aeroniel said gently. "Legolas will bring her back." Saeldur nudged her, and she flushed and added hastily, "And Feredir too, of course. They will rescue her."
Thorontur smiled. "Aye. I know that Legolas can rescue Calathiel if anybody can. But that can wait. I have something to tell you all."
"What is it, hîr nîn?"
"I have decided to resign command of the Colhador."
There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by horrified exclamations.
"Lord Thorontur!"
"You cannot!"
"Who will lead us?"
"What will the King say?"
"You cannot!"
Thorontur raised a hand for silence. "I have led the archers longer than most of you have been alive," he said when he finally had it. "And it has been my life's greatest honour to ride at your head. I might have done it some centuries more without growing weary, but I realized today that I have done ill by my children. It is time for me to step aside."
"But who will take your place?"
"That is the King's decision," Thorontur said. "Although if you have somebody in mind I am sure he will take your choice into account."
He watched them calmly as they stared at each other in shock. It would take time, but he knew his archers, and he knew the decision they would reach. None of them wanted the command – it was too great a burden – but they would also be reluctant to have a complete outsider taking over.
Thranduil might ignore him, but Thorontur would just see how successfully Thranduil would ignore two hundred of his finest warriors.
Voronwë and Eredhion hustled Feredir away. They knew that he hated the sight and smell of battle. The businesslike manner in which Legolas was despatching orcs was bound to turn his stomach, not to mention Calathiel's. They would have liked to stay and help Legolas, and had Feredir and Calathiel not been with them they might have done. But, all said and done, the prince was one of the most skilled warriors in Eryn Galen, and Feredir one of the most reluctant.
They were riding in the direction of the stronghold with Legolas' stallion on a lead rein. Calathiel was with Feredir, shivering and trembling as she clung to his tunic.
There was a noise in the trees ahead of them. Feredir reached for his knife. Voronwë gestured for him to lower it. A second later Legolas dropped from the branches.
"They're still looking for me on the other side of the enchanted river," he gasped, reaching for his horse's bridle. "I don't think they'll bother us."
"Well, you don't seem to have come off too badly," Eredhion said, keeping one hand on the halter to hold the horse still while Legolas mounted. Feredir thought that was a rather optimistic statement; even in the faint starlight he could see that the prince's tunic and cloak were covered with dark stains; he hoped most of them were orc blood, but Legolas' slight grimace as he scrambled into his saddle made him doubt that.
"Let's go," Legolas said shortly.
"Legolas," Calathiel said suddenly, with a bright smile. She was very fond of Thranduil's son.
Legolas drew rein for a moment to turn to her and incline his head in greeting. "Mae govannen, my Lady," he said, making the Elfling grin in delight.
"Ride with Legolas," she announced. Before any of them could stop her, she had wriggled out of Feredir's arms and leapt in Legolas' direction. Fortunately the prince was close enough to catch her before she fell. She promptly seated herself in front of him.
Legolas laughed and put one arm around the little elleth to ensure that she wouldn't slip. "Ride with Legolas, then," he said. "Let's go."
"What?" Thranduil roared.
"I am sorry, aran nîn," Thorontur said, not sounding sorry in the least. "But I cannot do otherwise. Too long have I neglected my children, too long has Celebwen had to tend to them with no aid from me."
"You gave me no warning!" the King protested. "How am I to find another commander for the Colhador at such short notice?"
"That should not be a problem," Thorontur said.
"Thorontur, please. If you feel you have been treated discourteously – or if there is anything else you want – or –"
"Thranduil!" Thorontur sounded appalled. "I meant to suggest no such thing. It has been an honour to serve you as a warrior, and nothing will give me greater joy than to be able to serve you still. All I say is that I cannot ride into battle any more."
"But –"
"I wish to be an Archery Master. We have been in dire straits ever since Rainion sailed to the Undying Lands. Let me train warriors, Thranduil."
"But –"
"I have trained the best archer in all Middle-earth. You cannot doubt my ability."
"But who will lead the Colhador?" Thranduil asked, refusing to be sidetracked.
Thorontur smiled, and tried to answer lightly, as though his words were of no consequence.
"My King, the best archer in all Middle-earth. Who else?"
"What!" Thranduil bellowed. "Legolas is too young!"
"Actually, my King," Arbellason put in, "in a few months he will be old enough to wear the singola – under your own law! – so he need not even wear that ridiculous jade cloak and there is no reason for him not to –"
He cut himself off hastily as Thranduil rounded on him.
"You're in this together, aren't you? You've been plotting for days, waiting to catch me unawares –"
"Certainly not," Arbellason exclaimed. "Thorontur might have been planning it for months, for all I know –"
"Slander, my King!"
"– but I had no idea, none at all. I promise you that."
Thranduil heaved a deep sigh. "Your warriors must have their own choice for commander," he said, in the tone of a condemned murderer hoping for a last-minute pardon.
"Indeed, my King, I am sure they do. They are discussing it even as we speak. No doubt Aeroniel and Saeldur will be here soon with a proposal."
Almost on cue there was a tap at the door. Arbellason opened it. Aeroniel and Saeldur, still wearing the light tunics and leggings in which they had been sparring, came in.
"My King," Aeroniel said, in the tone of one who had something unpleasant to say and intended to say it no matter what, "we would like Legolas as our commander."
"Would you not like a commander from within the Colhador itself?" Thranduil asked. "You yourself, perhaps, or Saeldur or Bregolas?" It was a perfectly reasonable question, but it made Aeroniel flush defensively.
"My King," she said, just managing not to stammer, "we are archers, and we wish to be nothing more. We would like Legolas as our commander."
Thranduil groaned. "He is not ready for this!"
"Legolas, do you need to slow down?" Voronwë asked. He had been watching his friend and it was clear that Legolas was having difficulty with the fast canter they had set, and having to support Calathiel in her seat was clearly not helping.
Feredir pulled rein promptly, his face flushed with remorse.
"I'm sorry, mellon nîn. I did not realize… Come here, Cala, Legolas is tired."
"Like riding with Legolas," the Elfling protested. "He makes the horse jump over the fences."
"Let her be," Legolas said. "It does not bother me."
Feredir ignored him. "You can ride with him later, Cala. I do not think Legolas will be jumping any fences tonight. Come to me, penneth."
He reached over to pull the reluctant Elfling out of Legolas' arms. None of the older Elves missed Legolas' slight expression of relief as the child was lifted away.
"Perhaps you should ride ahead with Calathiel, Feredir," Voronwë said. "Your parents must be anxious, and it is best she does not stay in the woods at night. We will follow."
Feredir frowned. "Will you be all right?"
"I am not injured," Legolas protested.
"Legolas."
"Well, just a scratch, but that hardly counts –"
"Ignore him," Eredhion said firmly. "We will be fine, Feredir. Ride ahead as fast as you can; we are not far from the stronghold and you should be there in minutes if you gallop. Tell the King we are coming."
"Tell him I am perfectly fine and –"
"Sidh," Voronwë said, leaning over to examine Legolas' arm. "We know you're fine."
"My King, there is a rider approaching."
"Tolo!" Thranduil said. He, Thorontur, Celebwen and Arbellason were waiting in an antechamber off the main entrance. It took them several seconds to get outside, by which time the sound of hooves on the forest path was audible to their Elven ears.
They waited.
"Daro!" they heard one of the guards at the gate cry. "Declare yourself."
"It is I," a very weary voice replied. "Feredir Thoronturion, with my sister Calathiel."
Celebwen looked weak with relief. Thranduil was thankful that his friends' children had returned safely, but he was also concerned about where the other three ellyn were.
The huge gates did not make a sound as they swung open. As soon as the gap between them had widened enough to admit a rider, Feredir cantered through. Calathiel was sitting in front of him on the horse, and all the waiting Elves were happy to see that she was wide awake and showed no signs of injury.
"Penneth!" Celebwen exclaimed, reaching up for her daughter. "We were all so scared! Thank the Valar you have been restored to us."
"Nana," the little Elf said joyfully and drowsily, snuggling into her mother's arms.
Thorontur looked at his eldest son with pride. "I knew you could do it, ion nîn."
Feredir gave him a small smile as he dismounted. "It was not entirely my doing, ada. You trained the archer."
"Yes, speaking of that, where is he?" Thorontur asked.
Feredir's answer was cut off by a sudden gasp from Celebwen, who had been examining her daughter.
"Where are you hurt?" she said frantically, kneeling so that she could put her daughter on the ground and pat her down. "Why did you not tell me?"
"Not hurt," Calathiel said, sounding a little put out at being made to stand just when she had been getting comfortable. "Just sleepy."
"But there is blood on you, tithen pen."
"From Legolas," the small elleth protested. "Was riding with him. Then Feredir made me stop."
At once heads swiveled towards Feredir, but nobody spoke until Thranduil said, in a tone of resignation, "How bad is it?"
"No worse than usual." Feredir grinned despite himself. "He can ride, at any rate. They will be here soon. Forgive me, my King, I should have told you at once."
Thranduil waved away the apology. "I should have known."
Celebwen, at Thranduil's insistence, had taken Calathiel home to rest, and Feredir had been sent to the healers to be examined for injuries, but Thorontur flatly refused to go anywhere until he saw Legolas return safely.
"It is not for your sake, Thranduil," he said. "Or even his. It is for my sake. How am I to resign command of the Colhador if he is not there to take my place?" At the King's startled glance, he added impatiently, "Surely you did not imagine I would relieve myself of my duties if it meant leaving the Colhador without a leader!"
"He is not ready," Thranduil said stubbornly.
"With all due respect, my King, I have been watching Legolas as a warrior for centuries. I assure you that he is ready and he will make a good commander."
Thranduil was saved from answering by the sound of hoofbeats, followed at once by a guard calling, "Daro!"
"Legolas Thranduilion," came the reply from Greenwood's prince, who, from his voice, was clearly in no mood to wait outside the gates a second longer than necessary. The guards opened the gates at once.
It was with a significantly lightened heart that Thranduil saw his son riding in by himself. Neither Eredhion nor Voronwë was holding him up, demanding an antidote to spider venom or shouting for healers. Legolas even dismounted by himself, although Eredhion reached over to hold his horse's bridle while he did.
Thorontur was the first to reach the three ellyn. In an uncharacteristic gesture he flung his arms around each of them in turn.
"I might make an archer of you yet, penneth," he murmured to Legolas as he hugged him, and was rewarded with a soft laugh. Thorontur drew back and looked sternly at Eredhion and Voronwë. "Is either of you hurt?" They shook their heads. "Good. Legolas, healers. Now."
"But –"
"Now."
"From this moment forth," Thranduil said to nobody in particular, "it is illegal for the King's heir to utter the word but."
"There," Barancrist said. "Done. It just needed stitches, Legolas! I have no idea why you were making such a ridiculous fuss."
"I am not injured," the blonde Elf said, unblushing.
"Really?" The healer pursed his lips and looked at his prince. "In that case raise your bow – no, with your left hand, Legolas."
"That is irrelevant."
Barancrist rolled his eyes. "Go to bed."
The Elves filed out of the healing ward. At the door, Thranduil turned to Eredhion. "Will you and Voronwë see that Legolas goes to bed as he has been told? I have urgent matters to discuss with Thorontur and Arbellason."
"Of course, my King," Eredhion said. "We know how to deal with recalcitrant Elflings."
Ignoring Legolas' protests, the two young warriors seized his arms and hauled him down the corridor in the direction of the royal quarters. On their way they met Feredir coming in the opposite direction, carrying a very sleepy Calathiel.
"There you are," he said. "Cala woke suddenly and insisted on seeing that you were all right."
Calathiel was sitting on the edge of Legolas' bed, shrieking with laughter as she watched Eredhion and Voronwë wrestle on the floor. Legolas and Feredir were by the window, and though Legolas could not keep a small smile from tugging at his lips, Feredir was frowning.
Remembering his promise to Thorontur, Legolas turned to his companion. "What is it, mellon nîn? You seem troubled."
Feredir heaved a very deep sigh. "You did not really need my help today – when you asked me to go with you." It was not a question. "You could have saved Calathiel quite easily with Voronwë and Eredhion; you could probably have done it by yourself."
"Not by myself, perhaps –"
"No? But you were planning to go with just me."
"That's hardly going by myself, Feredir."
"Don't hide the truth from me, Legolas. You took me with you today so that I would feel better and have no guilt about being unable to do anything for Calathiel."
"Someone had to go – and if going made you feel better, then why not you?"
"Because I am no warrior, and you know this!" Feredir just managed to keep his voice down. "Do you think I do not know that all of you – you, nana and ada, your father, all my friends, even my brothers – think that I am incapable?"
"Nobody thinks you are incapable," Legolas said calmly. "We only think that you are unhappy, and we wish it were not so."
"How can I be happy when I cannot fulfill my duties? I am a lord of the Sindar. You know better than any what this means, Legolas. Bound to defend Eryn Galen and protect the Wood Elves who dwell here… You carry out this duty, as you have done since you first swore your oaths as a warrior, but I cannot. I am no warrior."
"Quite right," Legolas replied, silently praying that this was the right way to handle it. "You were not meant to be a warrior. Why then do you insist on it?"
"What choice do I have? I must defend the realm."
Legolas hesitated. "Do you remember the time when Arwen of Imladris and the Lady Celebrían had been visiting the Golden Wood, and Lord Celeborn asked us to escort them from our southern border to the High Pass?"
Feredir laughed shortly. "How could I ever forget? We were waylaid by orcs near the Forest River and we would have been lost had you not managed to get off an impossible shot despite having taken an arrow to your right arm."
"The credit for that victory was not entirely mine… But never mind that. Do you know why I was able to make that shot?"
"Because you are the best archer in all Arda?"
Legolas rolled his eyes. "No. Because Lady Celebwen was with us; she pulled out the arrow, sewed up my arm, and gave me a drug that dulled the pain without dulling my senses."
"Are you making some obscure point, Elfling?"
"I am making the point that that victory is owed to your mother as much as to me. Without the healers we would not have a single warrior left standing."
Feredir looked into his companion's blue eyes. "You truly believe that."
"I know that it is so. Besides, I have a vested interest. If you take up the healing arts I will no longer have to get lectured by Barancrist."
Feredir opened his mouth to reply, but stopped suddenly, cocking his head. "What is happening outside?"
"From the sound of things, ada is throwing a fit." Legolas raised his voice. "Voronwë, you're closest."
The warrior scrambled to his feet and pulled open the door. There was an immediate blast of sound. Thranduil and Thorontur were shouting at each other, and Arbellason was raising his voice over both of theirs to try to make them stop. All three Elves stopped as soon as they realized they had an audience.
"Ada?" Legolas and Feredir said at the same instant. Then, looking at each other, they burst into laughter. "What happened?" Legolas managed to choke out.
"We had a disagreement," Thranduil said in a tone that brooked no further questions.
Legolas and Feredir exchanged a glance. Legolas patted his friend's knee encouragingly, and Feredir got to his feet.
"My King," he said quietly, "I ask you to release me from my duties as a warrior."
Thranduil started. "Of course, if that is your desire, penneth. But why –"
Feredir smiled. "With your permission, Your Majesty, I will serve Eryn Galen as a healer."
Thorontur stared from his son to Legolas. "I don't know how you did it, tithen caun," he said, "but thank you." He whirled on Thranduil. "You see? I told you so! Say now that he is not ready, Thranduil."
"Do it now," Arbellason urged. "Ellaurë has been told. The warriors are willing. There is no other reason to wait. Do it now, Thranduil."
The Elvenking closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and nodded.
"Legolas," he said quietly, "rise."
Mystified, Legolas got to his feet. "Ada, what –"
"Come here."
Still mystified, Legolas went.
"Kneel."
Legolas dropped to one knee obediently.
"Legolas Thranduilion," the King said, just the slightest tremor in his voice, "I hereby relieve you of your duties as a warrior of the Home Guard."
"What!" Legolas yelped, as the other young warriors exclaimed in shock. "Ada –"
Thranduil waved his son to silence.
"In four months' time you will undertake a new charge in the service of the realm. Legolas Thranduilion, you will serve Eryn Galen as commander of the Colhador. If you have any objection, speak now."
Legolas looked too shocked to respond, so Arbellason said, "I speak for him. He has none."
"Rise, maethor," Thranduil said. He watched impassively as Legolas stood, and finally he said, "I suspect you will now cause me even more worry, but Thorontur and Arbellason tell me that the time has come, whether by my will or not, that you are not an Elfling but the heir to my throne and the defender of my realm."
"I will not let you down, ada," Legolas said with determination.
"Istón," the King whispered, reaching out to hug his son.
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