Revenge for a Family

Thranduil sat on his throne in the palace in Mirkwood, looking at his subjects wearily. His thoughts strayed towards his three sons: Calarian, Eldran, and the surprise package of them all, Legolas. Calarian and Eldran had been begot several thousand years before and were 2,000 and 1,950 years old.

Legolas was the surprise and had only been around for 15 years, yet he was the King's favourite. His innocence touched all and everyone was always happy to be around him as he was one of the last elves yet to be born.

He was growing up but, taking his time enjoying this special period before he would be deemed old enough to know better. His brothers doted upon him and he was loved.

Thranduil drew his gaze towards the elf near him: Sartarian, Captain of one of his largest divisions. If he could have seen what would have happened that night, Sartarian would have been thrown into the deepest of dungeons.

"That fool, didn't even give us so much as a glance. Are we ready?" Sartarian queried to one of the other elves.

"Yes. We have captured Calarian and Eldran. They are now in the bottom dungeon, though we conceded to give them a window."

"Why, you fool! They could shout out!"

"No, they couldn't otherwise I told them that Legolas will pay the price for their actions. The window is so that they can glance upon Mirkwood and know what is happening but will be unable to change it."

"Hmmm. That's a very good plan. Right. Now we need to go up to Thranduil and inform him he is no longer officially ruler of Mirkwood anymore." The elves laughed evilly together and gathered the brothers' swords so that the King might as recognise them. Sartarian also picked up on his way out a small piece of fabric.

It had been one of Legolas' night shirts and Sartarian had used it one of the other nights when Legolas had accidentally cut himself. The elf had used it to wipe up the blood yet, the King didn't know about the incident and so it would prove resourceful towards bringing him down.

The king was still sitting on his throne when a group of elves, led by Sartarian approached him. "What do you need?" He asked curiously.

"No, Thranduil. We have come to say, that you are no longer King and none of your sons will be either."

"What do you mean by this, Sartarian? If I can't be King, they will take after me."

"Unfortunately, no, due to a slight 'accident' whilst taking them hostage. We had hoped to keep them alive yet…" He drifted off and showed the King the swords that were covered with another elf's blood and Legolas' shirt.

"You haven't…You can't have killed them."

"Oh, be sure that I have. You are no longer wanted in Mirkwood. You are officially a prisoner of Mirkwood and you will only pass to Valinor or Mandos in the next several thousand years so that you can see the pain inflicted on Mirkwood."

With that, Sartarian, with the help of several other elves, tied up the King and led him down to the dungeons. Along the way, one of the elves commented, "Such a shame that everyone else will think that you and all of your sons are dead."

They had reached the dungeons and threw the King into a cell and left him alone to his misery waiting out the next several thousand years until he can re- join his wife, Elvewen in Valinor.

"Father?" A voice queried in the darkness, sounding a lot like his oldest son, Calarian.

"Shut up, Calarian. Can't you see that it's Ada? You must have the sight of the dwarves!" Eldran responded with a touch of humor.

"Calarian? Eldran? My sons, you are still alive? He told me that you were dead. I had given up all hope. Is Legolas with you?" Thranduil said in a torrent. Calarian and Eldran stepped out of the shadows.

"No, Ada. He isn't. We're sorry." Calarian said. "We were captured by a group of elves that we thought would never harm us. Betrayal of the worst kind. After the held us down, they took all of our weapons and then promptly threw us into this cell. We've been told that you're no longer the King of Mirkwood and that we will have to live out the next several thousand years in here. Ada, is that true?"

"My, Calarian, for being the oldest, you sure are slow on the uptake. Of course he isn't. He doesn't just come down to this cell for a break, does he?" Eldran responded with a frown on his face.

He gazed at Thranduil before saying, "You don't think Legolas will be coming here, do you, Ada?"

"No, I don't think so. When that monster gave me your swords, the blood on it wasn't yours. It was from another elf. However, Legolas' nightshirt was stained with his blood." He broke off crying gazing forlornly at the red stained piece of fabric in front of him.

"We will have to spend the rest of our time here. I will not give up. We can get back Mirkwood and I will avenge Legolas' death. He was only 15! He was barely weaned! That monster!"

What Thranduil didn't know was that Legolas was not dead and wouldn't be in the time to come. During the coup, he had seen his brother's being taken and knew instinctively that it wasn't a good idea to stay in the palace.

He had ran out of his room clutching a few items that were special to him and clothing before leaping out of his bedroom window and into the dark forest ahead of him.

Sartarian was furious. The little elf had escaped somehow and no- one had any idea of where he could be. "What do you mean, gone?" He had roared.

In the end, one of his new advisors and best friend encouraged him to believe that Legolas wouldn't live long in the forest with the spiders and the various wargs and other species that inhabited the nearby area.

Legolas carried on. He wouldn't stop until he was far away from Mirkwood and knew that no- one would chase him. Even though he was 15 years old, he still looked like a small child as elves don't mature until much later.

He stumbled into a village looking around for one friendly face though he was only met with glares. He thankfully put his hood on so no- one could see his pointed ears poke out of his fair hair.