Sard didn't return to the barracks until nightfall. He had been upset with King Thranduil, Legolas's useless keeper Blaon, and most of all himself. He chastised himself for not being vigilant enough to realize that Legolas hadn't been told why the dragon came to the kingdom aside from his ada's stronghold full of diamonds. Of course Thranduil wouldn't have told his four-year-old elfling that the beast of his nightmares had also come for him, which was why his nana and older brother, Oroduil, the Crown Prince, died saving him.

Sard marched his way to the kitchens to grab what food remained from dinner, and hopefully go to his bunk before the head chef, Fesove, caught him stealing. The halls were dim, torches having burned down, and no one was out. Of course, everyone should be asleep by now except for the night crew and none of them would be out wandering.

He snuck his way into the kitchens. No Fesove. He would have grinned, but the image of Legolas's tiny body trembling in his ada's arms made his stomach roll. Though two years have passed, it still wasn't enough time for an elf, let alone an elfling, to heal from what happened.

Sard could remember it still, very clearly. The beast, Kagnirrok, had come early in the morning. It hadn't mattered that the sun was rising to a beautiful, clear day. The dragon had smelled diamonds, and he thirsted for a glimpse of the Elvenking's youngest – an elf so beautiful that his soul glowed. Sard had just come in from a patrol when he saw the smoke. Of course, due to his high rank he had known why a dragon would come. The storage of diamonds.

He had run all the way to the palace through the screaming mob, letting other captains lead warriors with evacuations and an attack. He thought only of the small elfling who had a tendency to sneak away from his keeper, Blaon, and find trouble wherever he went. If he had slipped away from Blaon again, only Sard had a chance of finding Legolas in time before the kingdom was either destroyed or taken over by the beast.

"I thought you would come back for food," Pelorian, the archer, said.

Sard didn't react. He blinked as he was brought back to the present and realized he was standing, staring into thin air, in the middle of the kitchen.

"Even feral animals return for scraps," Pelorian laughed, though it was a quiet, half-amused one. "I take it from your long absence that King Thranduil didn't make you Legolas's new keeper?"

"Nay, brother," Sard said. "I spoke out of turn and hurt the prince with knowledge that had been kept from him and for good reason. The king sent me away to wait for merchants from Dale to come tomorrow and keep an eye on them."

Pelorian was quiet. Soft footsteps told Sard that his friend approached, but he did not move. His shame kept him still.

"What merchants from Dale?" Pelorian growled. "And what knowledge did you know that the prince did not?" That last he asked hesitantly, as the question was pulled from him by the simple fact that it had hurt their favorite elfling.

"He did not know the dragon came for him," Sard said. "And the king is opening Mirkwood back to trade. The foul humans who brought the dragon on us with their talk of gems and our prince will return and what then, Pel? How can we protect Legolas from his father who slips into madness, a kingdom that darkens and a filthy race that lusts after pure things almost as powerfully as a drake? I fear for him. I fear the dragon will come, we will lose him and all will be lost. The king will break with another death in his family and in turn so will the rest of us."

Pelorian stepped in front of him and stared at him long and hard, pale green eyes awash with worry.

"Have faith, brother," Pelorian managed.

"Faith in what," Sard demanded. "The Valar? The Valar hasn't spared us anything. I will not turn to them now."

"Have faith in us then," Pelorian said. "We will protect this kingdom and its last remaining gem. No human or snake will take Legolas from us, or our future."

"We will find out tomorrow." Sard brushed past Pelorian to the cupboards to grab food. He hesitated. "Spread the word through the troops. I don't want anyone caught by surprise or have any excuse to be lazy tomorrow. Not tomorrow, the day after or the day next. And send someone to keep a close eye on Legolas. Valar knows that Blaon won't."

O

Legolas clung to his nana as he listened to the screams below the window. His nana's dark golden hair hung around him as she rocked him back and forth, cradling him close to her breast even as she cried. He felt her tears drop onto his head, warm and fast and he was terrified because he did not know what to do. A serpentine shadow passed the window, dark and long. He smelled smoke and sulfur. Both stung his nose and made him cough.

"Legolas!" Sard's voice caught his attention and he lifted his head to look at the office door just as it slammed open. His nana jumped and a hand flew to her mouth.

"Sard," she choked. "Sard, I know we should be outside of the palace but he came here in his ada's study to play with some toys he hid-"

"I know, my queen." Sard slid to a halt next to them and grabbed her by the arms to haul her to her feet. Legolas watched the magician's dark blue eyes and the fearlessness in his sharp face calmed him.

Flames erupted outside of the window and a grating voice that rattled his bones called a name, though Legolas couldn't understand it over the screams that poured out of his home. However, both his nana and Sard seemed to know who the dragon called for because both of them looked at each other in horror. Nana started nodding.

"The beast has been calling for him the past twenty minutes," she sobbed. "I got so scared to move him I just stayed here instead. I was so scared if we ran he would see him. What does he want with him, Sard?"

Sard didn't respond, instead ripped Legolas from her arms which made her shriek and slap him. Legolas let Sard hold him, too unsure of what to do otherwise.

"If I have him, the beast won't see him," Sard shouted at her, which shocked Legolas. Sard was usually the most respectful soldier out of the whole military, patient and loyal to a fault. "If I have him, you know I can hide him."

Nana stared at Sard for a moment before understanding broke through her terror and she nodded again, tears spilling out of her burnt-golden eyes. Sard began tucking Legolas inside of his jacket and threw his cloak over one shoulder to finish the illusion that he wasn't there. Legolas felt safe.

The world rattled and rocks and glass shattered in a screaming rain. Legolas tucked his face against Sard's muscle-hardened chest, feeling the handle of a hidden blade next to his cheek. The stench of smoke grew thicker and Nana hacked as she struggled to breathe. Legolas was glad that he could breathe in Sard's scent to help mask the odor of burning trees and other things he couldn't place. Sard smelled like leather. It centered him and he knew with Sard there that nothing bad would happen.

"The beast has broken into the palace," Sard shouted to be heard over the chaos. "We must get out of here."

"Nana!" Oroduil's cry made Legolas try to sit up out of Sard's jacket and supporting arm. Sard held him still in an iron embrace. "Nana, the snake is headed this way." Legolas heard Oroduil run across the study to reach her. "Have you found him? Where is Legolas?"

"Legolas," was his ada's stern, commanding voice. "You must wake, ion nin." Ada hushed him and a strong hand stroked the length of his back as if to calm his gasping breaths. "You are safe now, tithen las. Ada is here."

Legolas opened his eyes and more tears fell from them, gushing out as if trying to rid his body of fear and sorrow. His whole spirit trembled, shaking his muscles and an ugly sob retched out of his lungs, screaming with its ferocity to be heard, to be saved. He buried his face in his ada's blue robe, breathing in the smell of the forest, of home. He clung to his father, clutching handfuls of robe and pale blond hair, ruining both with his tears and spit.

Ada untangled Legolas's bare feet from the sheets and carried him to the red door between their rooms. Legolas buried his face against his ada's neck, hiding beneath his long curtains of hair and cried harder, screams breaking out of his mouth as if they wanted his nana to hear and come running from the Halls of Mandos, or Oroduil who would sometimes stay up too late and hear his little brother's nightmares, as silly as they were then. Legolas now longed for dreams of darkness, of being trapped in a cave to never see the stars again. It is how he felt now when he closed his eyes and watched over and over again Kagnirrok's smoke mask the sky and the flames eat up all he loved.

"It's my fault," he wailed and opened his eyes again, only to find himself in his ada's room. Ada sat in a white winged chair by a window, a glass of water in his hand. The cool rim pressed against Legolas's lips and tipped, forcing him to calm enough to drink some of it down. He then followed his ada's finger to look outside where stars lit up the night. Legolas rested against his father's firm chest and scowled against the headache that blossomed behind his eyes.

"It is not your fault," his ada soothed and rubbed his back. "Sleep, ion nin. Your ada is here." Ada sounded tired. "Dragons fear me now, and will not come so long as you are with me."

O

The humans were dirty. Legolas spied on them from behind a clothing vendor at the side of Common Street. Human and human were pouring into his home, some greasy faces streaked with dirt and others with lank hair that hung uncombed and unbraided around their round shoulders. Some were even overweight, though they seemed the happiest. Overall, he was both awed and revolted by the race, but he liked how they laughed. Many of them were laughing and smiling, gazing at Mirkwood's inner village with big eyes and wondrous gasps. He missed his people when they laughed, but most of all he missed his brother Kasslad's laugh. It had sounded like freedom, so loud and unbridled that everyone couldn't help but laugh with him.

Legolas was pulled from his musings as one man, and what appeared to be his wife and three half-grown children, spotted him. Legolas cursed a word Rugon had taught him that would have made Blaon smack him on his rear if he heard it.

The man pointed at him, a strange look in his brown eyes. The family huddled together and looked at Legolas, smiling as if he were some lost and scared puppy. Legolas glared at them in return, especially when the daughter clapped her hands as if that would urge him from his hiding place.

"Filthy, aren't they?"

Legolas jumped at Pelorian's voice, even though he had whispered. He turned and smiled at the archer, who crouched behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Lines faded from around his mouth when he did this, as if he had needed to reassure himself that Legolas was with him.

"Are they looking for me yet?" Legolas whispered back.

"Thankfully not," Pelorian said. "Else these humans wouldn't all be laughing, would they?"

Legolas blushed at that, but stood. He was done spying on the filthy humans, having not appreciated how they acted around him. Pelorian scooped him up, earning a cry of protest from Legolas.

"I can walk," Legolas told him. "I'm not small anymore."

"Of course you're not," Pelorian agreed with a serious face, but the glint in his green eyes gave his joke away. "I struggle to hold you, you've grown so big. Allow this old archer the illusion of being able to spoil you like he used to when you were very little." Pelorian produced a honey cake at that, almost as swiftly as Sard. Except Legolas had seen Pelorian struggle to pull it from a pocket first, and grinned at that. Sard was still the best at making treats materialize out of thin air.

Legolas took the honey cake, hands instantly sticky as honey ran in rivulets from the soft bread and onto his fingers and palms. As Pelorian turned to take him back to the palace, he hesitated. Legolas turned with his mouth full of cake to see what the matter was and scowled when he saw the family that had treated him like a dog.

The humans still watched him, smiling and nudging each other as if they weren't already staring. The girl who had clapped now waved at him as if he was a baby, a ridiculous scrunched smile on her face. Other humans pointed at him now, and he heard the faint whispers of "youngest prince" and his name.

Pelorian made a growl in the back of his throat that could have put Rugon's to shame, and almost ran back to the palace.

"Don't tell me that he's been in the barracks again." Blaon sounded disgusted, his voice the first thing Legolas heard as Pelorian burst through the gates and rounded a corner in the direction of the royal wing. The endless line of humans with their wares still stared and the whispers still followed. Blaon didn't seem to notice though, or at least not care.

"How long has he been missing?" Pelorian demanded.

Legolas took another bite of his honey cake, always glad when Pelorian, Rugon or Sard was angry with the elf. He loathed his keeper.

"Not long enough to send his ill-tempered father into another tantrum," Blaon said.

Pelorian's fist moved faster than Legolas could follow. He dropped his honey cake to hold onto the archer better as his body moved, swift as water, and Blaon's face was sent jerking to the left, his long brown hair whirling. The smack of knuckles against soft flesh rebounded through the giant hall, silencing the humans before they all started talking again, this time louder.

Blaon got caught in his billowing green robes and tumbled onto his back. Legolas laughed at the sight, but quieted when his keeper's blazing eyes caught his. Guards ran toward them from down the hallway and the humans started shouting to them stories of what happened, as if eager to be of help all at once.

Pelorian set Legolas on his feet and gave him a gentle push toward the throne room instead of the royal wing. He was still angry, his face pink and a vein bulging between his brows.

"Run to Kasslad," Pelorian ordered. "Tell him what happened."

Legolas nodded and spun around, running as the archer instructed.

O

Thranduil had grown tired of the humans giving condolences for his wife and Crown Prince. He leaned back in his throne and gazed down at the current cluster of mortals from off the bridge of his nose, trying very hard to control his temper. He had listened to hundreds all morning as he greeted them back to Mirkwood and sent them off to his own merchants to deal. However, even the merchants he had vaguely known and the ones who had never come before insisted on giving him gifts to thank him for helping Dale improve its economy and how nothing sold for more than items made in Mirkwood.

"It was a sad day to hear of the dragon flying to your green wood, King," said one dark-haired merchant. The man was cleaner than most, his brown pants even ironed and his leather boots polished. He wore a billowing white shirt with the ties undone at the top, with a sweeping leather trench coat. Sharp blue eyes watched Thranduil and gave the king a reason to glare.

"Such terrible cries filled Dale when we heard that the beautiful queen and admirable Crown Prince had been burned and . . . they were eaten by the beast, were they not?" The merchant, his name lost to Thranduil now, tilted his head in concern and gave his ruse away.

"You mock our pain," Thranduil growled, furious almost to seeing red at the human's audacity. Kasslad, who stood next to him, placed a cautioning hand on his shoulder which he shoved away. "What do you gain from these questions? Do not tell us how sorry you are, for the deaths we suffered did not impact your short lives except a brief end to your trade. Has that made you so bitter as to continuously bring up that black day?"

The merchant did look apologetic, as most were before the king's infamous wrath. Thranduil boiled in it, but was satisfied by the flash of fear in those insufferably confident eyes.

"Mocking your pain was not my intention, Sire," the merchant groveled. "I merely bring up that day to pass on my condolences and to ask . . . hadn't Prince Legolas seen it all? Interesting if he had because that meant he was nearby, which must be incredibly maddening for the beast because I believe the dragon failed to see your son that day. Doesn't that mean he will come back?"

Thranduil almost lurched to his feet, a volley of insults on his tongue, when he noticed a black insignia on the merchant's white shirt. It was on the left side, over the man's heart, and had almost been covered by the trench coat, missed if not for Thranduil's sharp eyes. It was the curled image of a dragon, the implication of which baffled and enraged him.

Before he could call the guards to restrain the man and ask him what the image meant, the pattering of small, bare feet echoed through the shocked silence. Thranduil felt his blood chill, his heart slow, and watched in horror as Legolas bolted into the room through the open doors, past the quiet humans.

"Kasslad," Legolas shouted.

Thranduil stood, hand lifted to bring out the guards, but the merchant had already seen his youngest son. The merchant's piercing eyes landed on the elfling and his hand flicked down to catch him.

"No!" Kasslad moved to run forward, a dagger in his shaking fist, but Thranduil grabbed his arm. Kasslad turned to confused, furious and terrified eyes on him, only to follow his ada's attention back to Legolas.

The elfling was pressed against the merchant, a steel blade pushed beneath his delicate chin and into his soft throat. If the merchant moved the blade even an inch, Legolas would die.

"Look at this," the merchant breathed, a twisted smile on his long face. "He is a pretty one, isn't he?"