Author's Note:

Sorry for anything wrong with this chapter. I am tired and I have a paper tomorrow, so it was a little rushed. An important author's note is at the end.

Nearly 10,000 words. Leave a review to tell me how much you love me. :P

~S~

Chapter 2

They brought their horses to a halt, all of them looking up.

"Hanon, there is nothing left." Legolas said quietly to the Head Commander.

The clearing where they had halted their horses was once known as Rangers' Circle. It was given that name because of the almost circular clearing, surrounded by trees that held houses connected to each other with bridges. These trees were tall and large in size, making it possible to make two houses in one tree as they moved upwards. There were no sockets for torches to be lit during the night, for there were elves in their order that were skilled in casting enchantments and would cast orbs of light in the air. Fires they lit in the clearing to provide warmth and rugs and fur linings they kept in their homes to keep the cold at bay.

But at the moment, morning sunshine streamed down upon the Rangers' Circle. The trees had diminished, and the extensive canopy of leaves and branches that once provide shelter for the elves had receded somewhat, letting in more golden sunrays than Legolas ever remembered in his childhood he spent here when he became an apprentice.

"I know." Hanon said, pulling off his hood and peering at the ruins. "But that is not what we are here for. Spread out." The Head Commander ordered, raising his voice. "Look for any fell creatures here. Kill on sight and report back to me." The Rangers quickly spread out, bringing out their bows, just in case. Legolas wandered away, bow in hand.

Only one building was on ground, the rest were built in the trees. This was the healing longhouse, meant for the severely injured who were in no condition to be lifted into the trees. The nearest houses to the longhouse belonged to all the Rangers who were healers. Some of the houses built directly above the healing houses were also used for the sick and injured.

The door leading into the longhouse was broken, half eaten by termites. The moment Legolas touched it the door fell to the ground with a loud crash.

"Report?" A shout came from nearby.

"Clear." Legolas called back, indicating that all was well. He took a step into the longhouse gingerly. There were beds against the walls on either side, with shelves placed at intervals, meant for ointments and herbs and personal belongings of the wounded or sick. It seemed desolate and empty, with many of the shelves fallen to the floor, the moth-eaten bedspreads and faded colors. The beds were half broken, with the rotting and dank smell rising from them. there were patches in the roof where it was broken and light came through, with pools of water in some corners of the longhouse. He searched quickly, before deeming the place to be empty. It had nothing of value, save perhaps some books he suspected was written on healing and mixture of herbs to make ointments and salves but they were too ruined to be read. He left the longhouse, and took the steps leading up one of the trees. The talan he came on led to houses belonging to the healers. He searched inside, but found nothing except for some rodents who took to inhabiting the drawers, and small birds who built their nests high in the shelves. Leaving them in peace, he left it and went for one of the bridges leading to the other trees.

One of the Rangers had also decided to do the same thing opposite to Legolas. but as soon as he reached near the middle of the bridge, the ropes holding the bridge in place gave way, causing the Ranger to fall in a sheer drop below.

"Arandur!" Legolas gave a shout, reaching for him. a useless gesture, a part of him thought irrationally, since he was nowhere to catching him. another part of him resigned to the fact that the Ranger was facing multiple fractures from falling such a distance.

Then something happened. The tree that Arandur had been on twisted, its branches fanning out. Arandur crashed into the branches before grabbing onto one of them but not before Legolas heard a sickening crack, even from where he was standing. Legolas quickly scrambled down, forgoing the rotting steps and taking the branches down instead. As he ran to the tree Arandur was hanging from, other Rangers were running towards him as well. He recognized Bregon among them.

"Help him down," Bregon said briskly, his healer part of him getting hold.

Arandur was helped down and gently laid on his back on the ground. Bregon knelt beside him and started to check him, gentle hands pressing down as he asked Arandur where the pain was. When he pressed down on his chest, Arandur groaned. The healer pulled back his hand.

"One or two broken ribs," Bregon announced. "And you are lucky you are not coughing blood."

Arandur gave a strangled laugh that turned into another groan. Legolas turned and went to the tree that saved Arandur.

~You are awake.~ Legolas said, pressing his hand against the bark. The tree was still for a moment, before bending a branch to touch the top of his head briefly before returning to its position.

~Elfling.~ It rumbled, before falling silent. No matter how many times Legolas called it, the tree did not respond. Sighing, he removed his hand and turned away.

"Take out the ropes." Legolas ordered, facing the other Rangers waiting closeby. "We will use them instead of the bridges. I do not want another hurt Ranger."

They got to work, bringing out two ropes for each bridge. One was used for footing, and the other was at shoulder level, meant to hold on to while they walked over the first rope. Meanwhile, Bregon used linen bandages to bind Arandur's chest and keep it from shifting. Arandur took the concoction Bregon gave him for the pain.

"You are staying on the ground for now." Bregon told him.

"And to think I was excited for being here after so long." The Ranger looked genuinely sorry.

"Look at the bright side," Bregon said wryly. "Your wife will instantly forgive all the pranks you have been playing on her."

Arandur laughed before instantly grimacing in pain.

"And no laughing." Bregon added, patting Arandur's knee before getting up.

They worked more quickly than before, as Hanon wanted Arandur be taken back to the Halls for further treatment and he had no wish to divide the Rangers.

One of the reports from a younger Ranger confirmed Hanon's fears. There was a nest of spider eggs stashed in what once served as a storehouse for rations they kept for outgoing Rangers. They doused the place with oil before setting it on fire.

It was a slower going back to the Halls because of Arandur's pain. The ride took more than three hours in place of its usual two hours ride. When they finally reached the Halls, they dismounted at the courtyard.

"Come," Bregon told Arandur after carefully helping him dismount. "You need to have that more properly treated."

"Let us go and see where the king is." Hanon told Legolas.

"Hanon, where is Fion?"

"He is out on patrol since last night. He should be coming back sometime before noon."

They entered the Halls and Legolas spotted Galion.

"Galion, where is my father?" He asked after the head servant, the main caretaker of his father's quarters and study.

"I have not seen him since I served him breakfast and collected it thereafter."

"Did he go into his study?"

"His things were in order as they were last night."

Intending to go and look for his father, Legolas took one step forward before he was instantly pulled back.

"Oh, no, you do not." Hanon said dryly. "I need your reports on my desk right this instant. And I am not going to take any answer from you."

What protests he had for the Head Commander fell on deaf ears as he was dragged back to the Rangers' Wing. Hanon promptly forced him to sit down by a table and placed parchment, inkwell and quill for him, all the while ignoring the prince's suffering look.

"I need them now, Legolas." Hanon called over his shoulder, knowing full well he had not yet reached for the quill. Muttering under his breath for being forced to work (conveniently forgetting that he had been the one putting it off), Legolas started his long paperwork.

It took him an hour and a half to finish it. When he was done, he went to Hanon's study and placed it in front of him with a huff.

"You run from paperwork like King Thranduil does."

"Grandfather was always the proper king." Legolas called over his shoulder as he made to exit. He stopped by the door. "Are you not coming for lunch?"

"I have my own reports to write."

'Now look who is lagging behind."

Hanon laughed. "Away with you!"

Much to his surprise, his father did not even put in an appearance for lunch. It was not wholly uncommon for Thranduil, but since there were no pressing matters to take care of, or a guest to entertain, it was certainly unusual. So after a short lunch, Legolas excused himself and went on to search for his father in the deeper levels.

He found his father sitting where he suspected he might be. The crystal hall went by numerous names, but to them, it was simply a place which Legolas' mother loved. The hall was dark, but with lit torches lining the walls. Above them was crystal imbedded in stone. The fiery light of the lit torches was cast into the crystals, which reflected the light back in many colors. This scattered light was strewn over the ground, which the stonemasons decorated to give the false impression of being jeweled instead of the ceiling. This hall was located deep into Thranduil's Caverns. It did not have many visitors, in spite of its beauty, but those who did come preferred silence and solitude instead of company.

Thranduil sat cross-legged on the floor right beneath the crystal embedded ceiling. He had a plate of bread and honey laid in front of him. he watched his father make a morsel and pop it into his mouth before making his presence known.

"I thought I might find you here."

"You are back." Thranduil noted as his son came to sit beside him.

"I am. And you missed lunch."

"I did not know my presence was needed." Thranduil said, wordlessly offering from his plate which Legolas declined.

"Why are you having just bread and honey?"

"I find simple food tends to humble you." Thranduil said wryly. "And if I have any more variety in my plate for now, I might start gaining weight."

Legolas laughed. His father was one of the many well known for their muscular prowess. He doubted his father could go out of practice so quickly, but Thranduil was extremely careful.

"Your mother liked to come here." Thranduil said after he swallowed another mouthful. Honey finished, he tore of the bread and ate just that. "She loved the crystals. Times were hard, and I would not allow her to go into the forest unattended by armed guards and we could spare none at the time."

"It is very beautiful."

"Aye, it is." Thranduil said, finishing the bread and dusting his fingers on the plate before setting it to a side. Then he took hold of a satchel by his side that Legolas had missed noticing.

"I found these back in our city. When Annatar left, condemned by my father, I knew that we were in trouble. Your mother and I hid some of our most loved treasures from view and there they were, untouched." Thranduil let the contents fall onto his lap. Some of them Legolas recognized in faded memories of seeing her mother wear such jewelry. Others he did not remember.

"You gave mother this one. I remember." Legolas said, picking up a silver band with a design of interlinked crescents etched into it.

"We kept these." Thranduil said. "Arodien always wanted a daughter. She wished to have lingered enough to see you married." Thranduil glanced at his son, seeing him tense slightly. "We hoped to give these upon your marriage as a gift to your future wife."

"Father-"

"I take blame for what happened between you and Életh. Your grandfather and I should not have let our pride get in the way."

"Father-"

"You have been avoiding this subject for far too long." Thranduil said. "It has been long enough. You need to move on and you have to face her."

"I do not even know if she is on these shores. I left her at the docks!" Legolas' words were sharp.

Thranduil and Oropher both had different personalities. Thranduil was more outspoken, easily read, but Oropher was more quiet, thoughtful and vague. Thranduil was an easier person to talk to, and he was easier to relate but Oropher was well-known for his aloofness, though he cared for his people just as much as Thranduil did. He was simply less approachable. They had different ways to channel their temper or frustrations. Thranduil, being more outspoken, was a bit more reckless than his father, something Oropher disapproved of completely. He would easily jump in a fight but Oropher's entire body language would change in his anger. His figure would harden and tense and he would suddenly become quiet and deadly. No, Oropher did not need to take action to make his anger known; it would quickly become apparent in his features. The same was the case with Legolas. his son would tense and bristle in his anger, but he would not need to act on it to make himself known. Rage would simply roll off of him. It was times like these that Thranduil did not know which type was more destructive, his own or his father's.

"You will hold your tongue with me, boy." Thranduil said sternly. Immediately, Legolas became quiet, chastised. No, his son was not rebellious by nature. "You will go to the docks and find out if she is still there. Or I could put in a word for her-"

"No."

"Legolas-"

"I said no."

Thranduil sighed, becoming gentler.

"You are not to blame."

But Legolas said nothing.

oOo

"Mithon's back."

Thranduil looked up. Thorontur was standing by the open window, one hand on the fence and the other pushing his robes back in the wind. He had left his darker robes for lighter ones, wearing light grey robes. Thranduil got up and went to Thorontur's side, looking down at the courtyard. Sure enough, he could see the sharp uniforms of the guards in the distance.

"Come. Let us go down and meet them."

When they left the study and went out into the courtyard, the guards were already dismounted, handing their horses to the grooms to be taken care of. The guards were dressed in armor of dusted gold. It comprised of a mail shirt, over which was long tunic embedded with metal plates. The tunic was different shades of gold, the tips ended at mid calves. It also extended at the front and back, with a golden belt around the waist and knee high boots. Many of the elves were taking off their helmets, which were pointed at two areas, on either side of the head and a nose piece pointed downward. All the helmets took on the dull golden color.

"Mithon!" Thranduil called, recognizing the tall, lean, black-haired elf among the ellyn taking a filled goblet from one of the servants giving them refreshments. "I trust your journey had went well."

"It had, Sire." Mithon said. In spite of the years he had served Thranduil, even before he became king, he still referred him as 'King' or 'Sire'. He seemed to be ill at ease.

"Is something wrong?" Thranduil asked, eyes narrowing slightly at Mithon's strange behavior.

"Can we speak?" Mithon asked, still not smiling. "I would prefer if what I have to say does not wait."

"What happened?" Thranduil asked, concerned once he closed the door behind him in a council room.

"We went both places as you had requested the city of Dale as well as the Lonely Mountain." Mithon said.

"And?" Thranduil asked, gesturing the elf to sit. He complied and Thranduil sat opposite to him.

"Thorin Stonehelm was good to us. Surprisingly so, in fact. He took the news well. He was very diplomatic but I can safely say he was very welcoming to the idea of establishing trade with us."

"then where is the problem?"

"We offered aid to the city of Dale as you had requested. King Bard was not very welcoming." At Thranduil's frown, Mithon continued. "He was not only suspicious but cold to us as well. We were not… well treated there, though they did not dare to show us open hostility. I have brought letters from them both, but I thought you should know how each reacted."

"And why do you seem it to be important?"

"Sire, can I speak plainly?"

"Plain speech is what I am looking for."

The dry humor was lost on Mithon. "It is simply outrageous the way he acted." The royal guard burst out angrily. "The pompous attitude he possessed when he greeted us was dumbfounding. He regarded us suspiciously and he seemed to hate being right under the same roof as with us. had it not for been your orders, I would not have stayed any longer."

Thranduil stifled both a sigh of relief and the amusement at Mithon's words; relief, because he had suspected something much worse. He had sent Mithon, his own guard as a messenger, feeling that it was much more of a direct message than sending a simple courier. But whoever he sent, he would guard jealously. It was a trait of his. He would protect what his forest held dearly. Any insult to his messengers was a direct insult to him. Compared to all the things that came to his mind, this was only a minor insult. Amused, because he finally understood Mithon's feelings. Compared to their Silvan brethren in Lorien, the elves of Eryn Lasgelen were stranger and more proud. They were blunt to talk to, something that Thranduil always found refreshing. If there was anything he hated more, it was frivolous flattery and flowery phrases.

"For a moment I thought you were going to tell me something much more serious or drastic." Thranduil said.

"And this is not serious?"

"You are unused to monarchs, my good friend. You remain by my side and yet remain detached to what goes around you when it comes to our relations with other realms. It is not as serious as it seems. I had been suspecting to have strained relations with Dale for some time ever since Bard took his father's seat. But do not worry yourself on these matters. I thank you." Thranduil said. "Little details are often the most important. I will take care of King Bard. You should go and rest. Likely after such a cold welcome from Dale, your own quarters will be much more comfortable."

A brief knock came on the door. Thranduil called to enter, and he saw Galion glance inside.

"Forgive me, but a visitor is very keen to meet someone who just returned." The elf had a small smile on his face, giving away the identity of the visitor.

"I think your son caught wind of your return." Thranduil said, getting up. "Wash and rest. You can return to your duties after you have fully recovered. Galion, let the little one in. I am sure the two weeks of separation kept both father and son eager for a reunion."

Mithon's son shot through the door and right into the open arms of his father, who knelt to welcome him. Mithon nearly lost his balance, laughing and his previous frown forgotten. Thranduil smiled and left quietly.

He found Legolas waiting for him back in his study. Evidently Thorontur told him of Mithon's return and his wish to speak to him, because he could see curiosity evident on his son's face.

"What did Mithon speak to you about?" Legolas asked.

"You do not seem surprised." Thranduil noted after he finished telling Bard's reaction to Mithon's company.

"It is not really so surprising." Legolas replied. "Bard never really trusted us, even as a young child. I think somewhere deep in his heart, he does not forgive us, or rather you, for not sending aid to save his father."

"I would have sent aid if we hadn't been imprisoned in our own forest." Thranduil said.

"Bard does not know that. Still, I think what you are doing is right. It is time we kept away from the men of Dale. We had been friends with them before but this is the Age of Men, well and wholly. Our advice is not always sought or well received."

"I am impressed that he is still remaining a cordial relationship with us."

"Bard may not like us but he is no fool. He knows we possess a greater army and we have more allies, and powerful ones at that, than him. He would not try to challenge us when it comes to who has more power."

"I am still keeping the same traditions with him as I had done with his forefathers." This time Legolas did look surprised.

"Welcoming him here to our Halls for our festivals? But why would you do that?"

"If not for him, then for the fathers before him. Bard who took down the dragon Smaug was a good friend of mine and I do not forget friendship."

"And Mithon felt this was important to speak to you about immediately?"

"Mithon is never a diplomat. He is a guard and he wants nothing more than be given orders as to what to do and where to go. He is unused to these matters but I did not discourage it of him. You never know what points others might pick that you yourself might miss."

The conversation gradually turned to lighter sorts until they finally settled for studying maps for planning their journeys to Lorien and Imladris.

"I shouldn't have a problem reaching Lorien." Thranduil said, taking down another scroll from his shelf and unrolling it over a table, revealing a map. "If I reach our southern border, Lorien is almost less than a day away from there. It will take us another day and half to reach Caras Galadhon, more if we do not meet any of the Galadhrim right away to lead us there. Your journey will be longer."

Legolas chewed his lower lip, gazing at the map.

"Stop that." Thranduil said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Stop what?" Legolas asked, bewildered.

"Chewing your lip. You have your grandfather's habit."

Legolas laughed and returned his attention to the map.

"The paths should not have much danger as they had before, except perhaps for some ruffians or thugs who are ill-advised so as to attack us." Legolas said, gesturing at the roads leading through the mountains to Imladris. "We are taking the swifter horses, so the distance should not be much of a matter."

"You will have to take rest days in between. This is not an urgent meeting."

"True," Legolas conceded. "There should be no snowfall this time of the year. But there will be snow and perhaps ice on the pathways. The horses will be going on walk there. A smaller company will be swifter."

"You are not going alone." Thranduil said, not bothering to look up from where he was studying the roads to Lorien.

"But-"

"No buts-"

"But-"

"Legolas," Thranduil warned, still not looking up.

"Fine." Legolas grumbled under his breath, returning his attention to the map. He did not see his father glance at him in amusement.

"If you are worried that I will send Dorián with you and you will have to listen to him moaning over his love-"

"I am."

"He is not going."

"He is not?" Legolas asked, looking up in surprise. Thranduil looked up and shook his head.

"Fion and Hanon feel that he has some uses here. And if he does want to get married to Arodis this century," his father chuckled. "Then he will have to work hard for it."

Legolas nodded and turned his attention back to the route.

"Dorián has been leaving the Halls at odd times in the night."

"I know." Thranduil replied.

"You knew?"

"Of course. The trees tend to keep me informed about his whereabouts."

"Where is he going?"

"Promise me you will not go after him."

"He is going back to the ruins of Dol Guldur, isn't he?"

Thranduil sighed and gave up studying the map. He straightened and placed his fists on his hips.

"Yes." Thranduil replied. "He has. And I will not have you or any other well-meaning elves go after him."

"But why?" Legolas asked, baffled. "The shadows are long gone and he is free from them."

"Some shadows can never be freed from, Legolas." Thranduil said quietly. "Sauron is reduced to nothing, and crippled beyond recognition, but his effects will remain. And even if Dorián can finally overcome his experience, a part of him will always think over whatever he has gone through." Thranduil hesitated for a moment, thinking before adding, "I have heard he has trouble sleeping."

"You posted guards outside his door?" Legolas asked in disbelief.

"Actually I asked the servants to keep me informed. I like to know about his wellbeing. They told me they found him awake at odd hours of the night- where are you going?" Thranduil asked sharply.

"I am going after him."

"Absolutely not." Thranduil said firmly. "Some fights are our own and you will respect Dorián's boundaries, even if you are his closest friend. You will not go after him or question him or hint to him that what you just found out from me. I say this as a father as well as a king. Do so and I will put you on patrol and even tell Hanon you need some of the vigorous training."

For a moment Legolas considered if his idea was worth his father's (and king's) wrath and decided it was not. "Fine," Legolas relented, letting go of the door's handle.

oOo

The trees here were silent. He pressed one hand on the bark of a tree.

~Are you awake?~ He asked gently. The tree remained silent for a moment, and then it rumbled almost inaudibly. ~Go back to sleep.~

The trees near Dol Guldur had become twisted and dark in nature. But since the breaking of Dark Lord's hold over the kingdom, the trees lost their nature but then diminished. They would still rumble or unwind when they heard an elf's voice or felt an elf's touch. But they no longer spoke any words.

He pulled off his hood as he slowly marched up to the ruins of a large stony fortress. Galadriel was well known for her power. She had thrown down all the walls of Dol Guldur, causing the walls to fall inward into the city. It was difficult going up due to the rubble of the walls. He walked carefully, tilting his body forward as he went.

The city was silent but not eerily so. There were signs of life creeping back to the place. There were a few sprouts of green around. He saw some of the birds rising from the higher towers, gliding in the air. There were some more signs of life, with lizards and worms crawling over the place. Dol Guldur was healing but slowly. It would be a long while before this land could forget the horrors of more than an Age.

He made his way into the courtyard, or what remained of it. Signs of battle were more prominent than anything else. When Dol Guldur was first built, it was meant to be a fortress for Oropher's people. Times were becoming unpredictable, and they needed safety and refuge. It was large and heavily fortified, meant to endure many months of siege. It was famous for its many stone staircases inside the fortress as well as outside. They were various in shapes and lengths, some were wide and straight while others were narrow and still others were winding. Most of them were now nothing but rubble. Thranduil's army took great lengths to destroy as much as they could. Dol Guldur was something of a source of shame for them. When it was first built, meant to be a fortress, King Amdir did not take it kindly. Relations with other Realms were very strained and to keep the peace, King Oropher decided to forsake the fortress. They should have brought it down when they still could, but in the dead of the night, the orcs had come and killed what battalion Oropher had stationed there and took Dol Guldur for their own. The fortress meant to protect Greenwood's elves turned into a prison, a place of horror. It was defilement in their forest, a source of shame. Too often many elves had looked in the direction of Dol Guldur and wondered what kith and kin lay in the pits of the fortress.

He made his way towards the main structure of the fortress, ignoring the darkened stains on the ground. He had not seen much of the place, since he used the catacombs and hidden passageways to gain entry. He did not even remember what Dol Guldur was like before it was taken by the orcs. He did recall some glimpses of it, of laughter and lights but that was all that he could remember.

He went up the steps warily, finally entering the main structure through an arch that was still standing. It did not do much good for there were neither walls nor a roof, and up to a point, there was no floor. He went to the edge of the floor and looked down warily. The pits were normally dark, pitch black in fact. But now they were laid bare for the world to see. Sunshine streamed down into the pits, making the place look less dark in the golden light but even more ugly at the same time. Elves destroyed as much as they could by removing signs of the horror that took place there but at the same time they could not wholly remove all signs of it. He could still see fragments of chains attached to the floor, the broken iron gates still standing in places which would lead to separate cells for prisoners. The walls of the cells were crumbled or crumbling. He could see the broken bowls, the whips strewn over the floor. What was not present there, his memories made up for it. The air was fresh, but it had not been so then. He remembered the horrible stench of rotting flesh and excrements in the air. He could almost hear the sound of whip cracking, accompanied by a pained whimper of an unfortunate prisoner. There were different prisoners here. Some of them were men or dwarves but many of them were elves. The elves were those who were captured recently but many were those captures centuries earlier. Sauron was doing experiments, or so he had been told. He had been trying to find out Morgoth's secret of making orcs out of elves. The thought had sickened him before and it still raised bile in his throat at the notion. He had glimpses of such elves through his imprisonment, horribly emaciated, vacant dull eyes but still alive and yet lost in thought and devoid of expression.

As for himself, he had been fortunate and unfortunate at the same time. Fortunate, because he had been spared the humiliation they had inflicted upon the other elves and the extent of… violation they took part in. and unfortunate, because they gave him slower, more painful forms of torture. Starvation would not have broken him soon enough, so his time was more torturous and he remembered the whips and knives all too well.

It was one of the reasons why kept his silence after each imprisonment. The horrors of the place, of what he had seen being done to others coupled with what he had faced was too much for even him to bear. The shock had been great along with his grief and anxiety. Even now he forced down his memories that threatened to take hold of him. He had been coaxed to speak of his experiences by almost everyone, including the king himself, but he could not bring himself to do so.

And what right had he, to speak of his own time spent here? Elves had spent centuries upon centuries of thralldom in Dol Guldur. The time they had to face in the accursed fortress put Dorián to shame. He could not bring himself to speak for that very reason; for he felt he should bear it better because those elves bore much worse.

He felt a gentle hand press against his shoulder and he jumped. One of his fingers went for his hidden blade in the sleeve of his other arm. He would have reached for his dual blades but that would attract too much attention and the action would not make sense to his opponent.

"Dorián, do not."

He froze, turning his head to see his former mentor standing behind him. Fion was bent slightly at the waist, hand still stretched out that touched his shoulder. Dorián slowly relaxed, forcibly calming his racing heart by taking even breaths.

"I apologize." Dorián said after a while. "This place tends to put my wits at an end."

Fion nodded quietly, letting the incident pass.

"May I join you?"

"How did you find me?"

"The trees tend to give away you are going."

"The trees can mind their own business." Dorián muttered. Fion smiled and took Dorián's shifting to one side as an invitation to sit. He sat in the same fashion as Dorián did, with his legs dangling where the floor ended, into the pits. Fion remained silent, his figure completely relaxed and slowly, Dorián began to relax as well when he realized Fion was not here to demand why he had come to the ruins of Dol Guldur.

"I had been coming back here for a few months." Dorián said, breaking the silence. Beside him, Fion inhaled.

"I know."

"You do?"

"The king knows too."

"I suspected he might."

Silence fell again.

"I cannot help coming back here." Dorián said quietly.

Another silence fell.

"When Legolas joined the Fellowship and we returned to Mirkwood, there was something else that made you want to come back to Dol Guldur. It was not just you trying to make yourself useful. I am right, am I not?"

"A little bit." Dorián said after a pause.

"Dorián, there is something you must know." Fion said, hesitating. The veteran cleared his throat and went on more firmly. "We did not know how to tell you this. You had been very injured and weak when we brought you to the healing wards back in the Halls. At first, we decided not to tell you at all. When we rescued you from these pits, you were not the only one. We found other elves as well trapped in this place. Some of them were from Lorien, few from Rivendell, possibly from the envoys and messengers Elrond might have sent but never reached us. Many were from here, this forest. You should know we could not recognize many of the dead, but some who were alive or barely so were still recognizable." Fion drew in a deep breath and looked at the Dorián. "In a neighboring pit we found some elves. Among them was one we recognized because he was still wearing his marriage ring." Dorián's face went pale. "Dorián, that elf was your father."

He must have gone overly quiet, for now Fion was looking at him very anxiously. "He might not have reached Lindon at all. He might have been attacked on the way and brought to Dol Guldur. He died soon after we took him out of the pits, the light and the food we gave him was too unbearable for him. but we gave him a proper burial. Dorián, say something."

For the first time since his imprisonment, Dorián wept.

oOo

"Have you seen my son?" Thranduil asked when he sat down at his desk some days later. Across the study, Thorontur looked up briefly.

"Hanon said he went for inspection of the Rangers over our northern borders. He should be back the night of the next day."

"Good. I have to finalize his trip for Imladris. See to it that he knows when he returns."

Thorontur nodded wordlessly and went back to work. They worked continuously for three hours. After the War, their work had become blessedly lighter. It was not until Mithon knocked and came inside did they finally look up. Much to the surprise of both of them, the royal guard was openly grinning.

"I beg your pardon, Sire, but there is something you should see."

Mithon's words immediately made him turn for the worst scenarios from the return of the orcs, killed sentries and harmed ellyth. Noticing his look, Mithon added, "It is nothing to be concerned about, Sire, but I think it will be a pleasant change from your work."

"What is it?" Thranduil asked, intrigued.

"You will see. Come, Sire! We will need our horses. Lord Thorontur can come as well."

They quickly went to their respective living chambers and returned in riding attire. Habit made all three of them carry their swords and their shields held in place at the side of the saddle. Mithon led them out, but instead of taking the Great Forest Road, he turned his horse to the left, going off the main road and riding straight. Thranduil suspected they were not going on a hunt, and by the way Mithon was leading them, he had suspicions they were going to an outpost.

It turned out to be true. Mithon led him directly to an outpost they used very rarely, because of the heavy defenses they kept on their borders. It was meant more to be a place of refuge if any of the outposts situated near the borders were compromised. And they were not alone. Two and a half dozen horses already stood near the trees, feeding leisurely on the grass. The outpost itself was not empty. He could hear fair voices coming from it and laughter. Mithon dismounted and the other two followed suit. Thranduil shared a glance with his advisor, who was just as confused and curious as him. Mithon, however, seemed comfortable and quickly made his way up the rope ladder. After a moment's hesitation they did so too.

"They are here. I brought them." Mithon said, opening the door.

"Ah, splendid." Hanon said, appearing before them. "You came just in time."

"Just in time for what?" Thranduil asked warily.

"Come, come, it will make more sense if you stand right here." Hanon said, pulling both the king and advisor towards the single window, facing south.

It was a large window, able to fit one person right through. From where he stood, he could see trees in front of him and the ground below him. but right at the top of the window was a thin but sturdy rope and at a closer inspection, he could see it was laced with some metal- mithril? Thranduil wondered. Curiously, he turned his head and saw the rope tightened around a hook at the back of the room, the mithril melted into the hook to keep it firm. Then he followed the rope with his eyes, until the rope passed through the window and into the trees in a straight, taut line.

"It doesn't make sense." Thorontur said finally after his own assessments and Thranduil could not help but agree. His voice died in his throat however, when he noticed something strange hanging from the rope just in front of the hook, held in place by a Ranger's hand. It looked like a harness. Thranduil went over to it and felt it carefully. The harness-like contraption was hooked to the rope with some sort of a metallic box fitted as a pulley. The harness itself was made of leather but padded and reinforced for both comfort and security. Thranduil looked at it, then let his eyes travel to the hook and to the rope leading outside before realizing what it was for.

"You are insane." Thranduil stated. Hanon laughed.

"See? I told you he will catch on."

"This is suicide." Thorontur said in disbelief.

"Ah, now, I can assure you it works wonderfully."

"I do not really believe you." Thranduil told the elf.

"Well, I can tell you we have tried and tested it."

"Who was killed?"

"No one!" Hanon protested, laughing. "And Fion was the one who tried it."

Thranduil imagined Fion trying such a ridiculous idea and failed miserably. A younger Fion would try it, he was sure, but life had changed him. His son's untimely death, his responsibilities, everything had made Fion sterner, firmer. But still, he widened his mind and searched for him. he found Fion's presence and pressed his mind against his.

~Fion?~

~Hm?~

~Ah, so you are alive and not lying on the ground in pieces?~

Fion's laughter rocked the mental link. Thranduil blinked. His closest friend sounded younger, freer.

~I am well and whole.~ The veteran assured him. ~I assume Hanon showed you his invention.~

~A brazen plan made by a lunatic will be closer to the truth.~

~It is not as ill made as it seems, I can assure you. The dwarves took a look at it before we decided to try it.~

Thranduil walked over to the window and looked down. The tree of Eryn Lasgelen were not as tall as those of Lorien but they were tall enough to cause serious injuries, and considering the high speed they will be going, a fall would result in an instant death.

~Right, the dwarves. That makes me feel better.~

~Trust us.~

~It will be an instant death if one falls from this rope.~

~It is completely trustworthy. Try it. Now, I have training to put on for the archers.~

"Fine." Thranduil said. "I will try it."

"Let me go first." Thorontur said, surprising them both.

"Ah, so the advisor decides to have a little fun." Hanon teased. "Come, we will set you into the harness."

He watched them place a footstool for Thorontur. Stepping on it, the harness was used for both arms and legs, meant to keep the wearer secure. It took them a while before they finally let Thorontur go down. The advisor went with uncharacteristically loud shout, making the elves laugh.

He watched them fit another harness on the rope. When they were done, he stepped on the footstool and placed his arms through the straps before being lifted and harnessing his legs.

"You will need to pull this chain for brakes. Otherwise you will slam into the tree at the end of the rope." Hanon said, waving the chain for Thranduil to see. Thranduil nodded.

"Are you ready?" Hanon asked, him and another Ranger pulling back him back. But Thranduil barely had time to say yes as the Rangers ran and let him go, passing right through the window.

His heart jumped to the throat. Air whipped through his hair. There was a blur of green leaves of the trees as the ground ran passed him. The feeling was exhilarating. He passed through the trees until he felt a sudden jerk and he passed through the branches of one tree. It jerked again and then the rope pushed him right beneath the branches of a tree. Finally he saw Thorontur waiting with some of the elves beneath the tree. He realized this was the end. He reached and pulled the chain.

The jerk was sickening, an unpleasant thing to feel after such an experience. Then some of the elves helped him out of the harness.

"Thank you, Nimon." Thranduil said, recognizing one of the Rangers.

"I should get this harness back to the outpost." Nimon said, pulling the harness free from the rope.

"What do you think?" Thorontur asked, grinning.

"It was an experience unlike any other." Thranduil admitted, laughing as he reached the ground. "What about you?"

"It felt exciting." Thorontur confessed. "I might go on it again."

A short time later, Mithon was the one coming from the rope.

"An excellent find," Thranduil said to him. "I am quite happy that you brought us here."

"Is it not?" Mithon said. "But I will never let my son use it. At least until he is old enough."

"So how did you come by this idea?" Thranduil asked Hanon when he came by the rope.

"It was an idea that came to me during the War." Hanon admitted. "Some of the archers and I were just discussing how the dwarves used carriages on a metallic rope to transport their gold over the pits and caverns. The idea just came from there."

Slowly word spread and more and more of his people came. Sentries were posted nearby out of sheer habit. Laughter rose and filled the air. But something about his people was now different. They seemed happier, and livelier than before.

He knew he should probably return to his duties but he could not pull back from joy surrounding him. Soon enough the ellyth joined in, much to Thorontur's amusement. They had brought some food from the Kitchens. There was broth with bread, tarts and pies.

"You have turned this into quite a party." He told Hanon when he went over the rope.

"I thought it was something all of us would like."

"You are right." Thranduil said. "My people seem younger, happier."

Evening drew on. The guards brought in the hounds just for increased protection. Then the music was struck up and some of the archers pulled their wives for a dance.

"Let us see if any of the ellyth want to try the rope."

"Hanon!"

"What?" Hanon asked, laughing as he bounded away.

"It has been a long time since we spent such a long time outside." Thorontur said, coming to stand beside him. His advisor was right. Most of the time, they spent their time only briefly outside, with the Rangers keeping an eye to keep any unwelcome guests away while they gave a banquet under the stars.

"We are lagging behind the paperwork." Thorontur said.

"I can't hear it." Thranduil said, standing just beside him. Thorontur chuckled.

oOo

At dawn at the beginning of next week, both companies for Thranduil and Legolas were ready. Thranduil was garbed in red and brown riding attire, accompanied by Thorontur and Hanon.

"Try not to annoy my librarian." Thranduil said with severity, tugging on to his riding gloves.

"My lord! As if we would ever!" Hanon said in mock horror, pressing his hand over his heart.

"You can and you would." Thranduil retorted, unfolding his arms and reaching forward to accept the reins from a groom bringing his horse. "Thorontur, keep an eye on them."

"Oh do not worry, Sire. I am sure the stonemasons will not mind have some help." Thorontur replied smoothly.

"Fine, fine! We will not do anything in your absence." Hanon said, raising his hands in defeat.

"You will not enlist the help of my servants."

"We never did that!" Hanon protested.

"Really? So accidently locking Arodis into the gallery, and Dorián entering the gallery with the other door blocked 'accidently' by furniture was none of your fault."

"The servants are getting careless these days!"

"Hanon, if you dare to lie at my face-"

"But I am innocent!" Hanon said. "I swear neither I nor my Rangers had anything to do with that one!"

Thranduil gazed at the Head Commander for a long while before deeming that the elf was truly telling the truth.

"It seems we have another conspirator in our midst." Thranduil mused. Thorontur shrugged.

"Could be some of the ellyth. Arodis has friends here and there."

"It is interesting to see so many married ellyn taking part in all of this." Legolas' drawl wafted over to them. "What could be the reason?"

"It will be the first wedding in many centuries." Thranduil replied dryly. "Besides, Dorián, who is well known for his antics, picks an elleth who is extremely shy and famous for scurrying off the moment you see her… it is quite a strange match."

"You cannot blame us for knowing a little." Hanon protested.

"Or, our elders like to gossip more than we realized." Legolas interrupted.

The annoyed looks of all three ellyn did little to affect Legolas' impertinent smile.

"Careful, little one," Hanon warned. "These elders are quite capable of making wedding days hard to live with."

Legolas only laughed.

Farewells were quick and short. Legolas did not have plans to stay in Imladris longer than necessary. Thranduil, on the other hand, intended to keep a long visit. The final plan was to have Thorontur acting as reagent until Legolas returned, who would take over his duties for him till Thranduil's return. After they settled the matter, they mounted and left.

oOo

They had spent considerably short time on the road, the lack of danger making it easier for them to pass through quickly. They did take rest days in between, allowing staying encamped while their horses rested and they replenished their water supply. As they drew nearer to the mountains, the weather became more harsh and biting, till the thicker cloaks and fur lined clothing came out of the bags carried by the pack horses. When they finally reached the pass, the weather was harsh. So they pulled their hoods low to protect their face and brought out the warmer blankets for their horses, protecting them from the cold. It was a slower going on the pass. The snow was deep and it was harder to walk. Oftentimes when they ascended, snow turned to ice, making their pathway even more treacherous. One of the guards slipped, breaking his ankle and they had to stop till it was set and he had taken something for the pain. They had to wait again, for his pain to subside enough to tolerate riding a horse. It took them more than a week and a half on the mountain pass. At last the pathway began to descend and become narrow, the weather changing for a pleasant one until they came upon Imladris.

The beauty of Imladris cannot be over exaggerated. A city built in a valley, it had lush forests, clear rivers and numerous waterfalls, bending and twisting naturally around which the city was built. The entire city was built in stone, with colored tiles making its roofs. The gardens were well tended, and statues stood in many places, some of warriors standing with their hands stretched outward as if in warning and others of she-elves with vases or lutes in their hands. The architecture was elegant and flowing, not like the architecture of Eryn Lasgelen, which was meant to remain preserved. Due to the many waterfalls, Imladris relied heavily on long bridges and almost everything was sheltered, even some of the gardens because of the continuous coming of rain clouds.

And yet, there had come a change on the city. Years ago, when Imladris was first built, they had nicknamed it the City of Lights, because of the wondrous scenery when the night fell and the lights would be lit. It was also named so because of the liveliness of the elves there. But where there was once laughter, there was subdued silence, as if the time of laughter has long since passed. There was relief of course, for the Dark Lord had finally been vanquished, but there were few people left in Imladris. The streets were not as full as they once were.

There was a change over the scenery as well. Lord Elrond's Ring of Power governed the elements to a minor degree. He could summon the elements, make them do his will, and though it was not to a great extent, it was still rather impressive. The trees would practically be humming with life and health, feeding of the Power of Elrond's Ring. The waterfalls would roar with a greater force, but now it was as if they had lost that force, that will to strive. The grass was not as green, the waters were calmer than usual, and the trees were more silent. They were almost… ordinary.

One of his company's riders pushed forward to ride with him. It was an archer, handling his reins almost unconsciously as he looked around.

"Forgive my saying so, my prince," the archer said in ancient Silvan dialect. Legolas blinked. It had been a long time since he spoken in Silvan. The last time he could recall speaking in that tongue was with his mother. "But it feels as if the elves here have gone to sleep, or are in danger of Fading."

"Perhaps they are." Legolas replied, letting his horse follow the street.

"I do not understand it. They have more comforts and protection than we ever did. We had to resist evil at our doorsteps. They had to fight it from a distance."

"Opposition often breeds more life, my friend. Protection, on the other hand, dulls it, or lulls it back to sleep. Whichever you would prefer. Come, let us go up to the Last Homely House. I suspect Lord Erestor has already been told of our coming."

~S~

Author's Note:

There are a few things that are troubling me tremendously. I had an idea to keep the suspense but then after reading a few reviews I decided I needed to clear some things also.

First off, Legolas' promised is not a daughter of Elrond/Celeborn/Erestor/Cirdan. She is not some lost sister of Aragorn. She is not a girl falls in Middle Earth (something a reader asked me when I first mentioned her in OTWAB). Yes, she is an elf, but I have not made her some sort of mary-sue.

You guys might have noticed that in my story the elves are not really perfect as you see in LOTR movies and such. They laugh, cry and have all the emotions and yet remain above the Race of Men and Dwarves.

The last thing I want is some sappy story. The intrigue is not really the elleth, it is the story behind her and the story that links Legolas with her. One thing I can tell you all that it is not a plotline itself. It is a side plot and I will explore it.

To be honest, I am not keen on the idea of introducing love lives but I cannot wholly reject it either. Elves did marry and it was a custom to be married young.

Also, remember that this is after the War story. I wanted to explore the idea that while Rivendell and Lorien was diminishing, Mirkwood was thriving. The people of Mirkwood are resilient.

There are other young ellyn and ellyth instead of Legolas and Dorian but the intriguing part about these two is that they are the only ones born of their generation (last generation to be born in the Second Age) to remain unmarried.

Also, Thranduil is not the person you see in ffn... but then my world of Tolkien is entirely different. :)

Sorry for such a scattered author's note. My head is throbbing. I think I will skip the replies for the last chapter but please do leave a review and tell me what yo think. :)