Chapter 3

The end was near, and Thranduil finished with an elaborate flourish of his quill before leaning back in his chair with a breath of relief that the work was over and done with. Another three weeks had eclipsed by since the as yet unsolved mystery of Saeldur's attack in the forest; and whilst he was physically too weak to undertake strenuous exercise, the lessons with his young cousin had finally begun. If the child's parents had been even slightly doubtful that their nephew would excel in his newly appointed position, both had been pleasantly surprised at the way he soared above all expectations. Whilst younger and less experienced than the previous tutor, the Prince Regent put his knowledge and training from Lindon to good use and had already succeeded in conceiving understanding of subjects where before there had been none. The idea to let him teach had been beneficial to all involved, something which Oropher had no choice but to thank his wife for and admit that she was right.

"Are you ready for me to look over your writing?"

Thranduil glanced up, twisting his wrist to bring some feeling back into his muscles. "Yes. I thought you said at the start of the lesson that half a page would suffice. You made me do a whole one."

"It is good practice," Saeldur advised.

"Practice..."

Raising his eyes from the parchment to cast his cousin a brief look, the Prince Regent nodded his dark head once. "That is what I said. Now, perhaps you will give me a few moments of peace to read this through."

"Of course," Thranduil acquiesced, although he knew full well that a question had not been asked of him. He pushed his chair back from the desk and went towards the window, silently resentful of the free Elves he could see milling about in the courtyard down below. Although autumn was upon the forest of Greenwood, the final days of summer sun had not yet vanished. He knew that his friends were taking advantage of the dry weather to play as many outdoor games as they could manage, something denied to him with the start of his new lessons. "Saeldur, that reminds me... I truly am sorry that I was late this morning. I thought there was time to see Linwë and Veassen before meeting you here. Saeldur, are you listening? Saeldur!"

"You need to start listening to what I say. In these lessons, I am not your cousin," the older Elf chided quietly. "I am your teacher and mentor. Please remember that."

"But I-

"I said, listen. You were told to let me read your work," Saeldur continued, keeping his green eyes focused on the parchment. "Take heed, and do not disturb me again."

Thranduil gazed at his relative in silence for a moment longer before sighing quietly and turning back to the window, leaning upon the sill and watching outside activities of palace staff, soldiers and uniformed guards. A pair of young immortals close to his own age occupied a corner of the courtyard to challenge each other with wooden practice swords; those two he regarded with a wistful smile upon his face as they parried and blocked each other. His friends would loyally spend all their free time waiting for him to escape from lessons, but he dared not request an early finish. With his previous tutor, Maethor, he might have considered it. Indeed, he had done more than just contemplate the notion in the past. Saeldur was too different. Whilst he was a good teacher and mostly fair, the rein he had upon his temper was short. There was not much that he tolerated, and idleness did not appear on the list. Asking permission to leave before the appropriate time was sure to evoke great waves of irritation in him.

"You should not allow them to become a distraction."

Starting slightly as a rolled up piece of parchment gently touched his shoulder, Thranduil's blue eyes flicked upwards to meet a pair of emerald ones. "It would be different if I was studying," he replied softly. "There is no work that I can do standing here. What does it matter that I watch what they are doing?"

"Your mind will wander, and I am not teaching you to witness a constant loss of concentration," Saeldur berated his student. "I am doing it to aid your progression-

"No, you are doing it because you cannot yet fight and my father needed to find a tutor swiftly," the Prince broke in. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he flinched inwardly and cast his gaze far away. "I am sorry."

"For what are you apologising?"

"I..."

Pressing a hand to the back of the child's neck, Saeldur guided him towards the desk and sat him down in one of the hard backed chairs. "Are you sorry because you feel I might have been insulted by your words, or are you sorry for such utter lack of respect? How many times must I tell you that we are not cousins in these lessons? The moment that door closes and you open your books and I begin to teach, our blood ties mean nothing. I treat you as my charge and my student; you must do me the courtesy of speaking politely and obeying instructions. I have no wish to waste our time giving a lecture that I know you have heard many times over the last few weeks. If you cannot begin to understand the simple concept of having me as a teacher, I promise that I will go to your father and have him find another. Unless you want that to happen, you need to start forgetting who we are outside of this room. Alright?"

"Yes," Thranduil muttered. The pressure upon his neck increased just subtly, and he lowered his eyes submissively. "Yes...sir."

"Good." Removing his hand and taking a seat opposite, Saeldur allowed himself a small smile. He had succeeded in gaining control and an amount of power over his cousin that he would never have been granted before, all done without harming anyone. He was silently pleased with himself. "Now, your work today. There is little for me to comment on. Your language skills are well developed and the grammatical errors you make are nothing that cannot be changed with the correct application of mind. What does concern me is the state of your hand. You start neatly enough, but towards the end of the page your writing becomes untidy and barely legible in some places. We shall amend that in time. As for the spelling of words, you do well without having to ask for help, but perhaps sometimes you should take a moment to think. You wrote a simple word incorrectly in this piece of work."

"Which one?" Thranduil leaned forwards to study the piece of parchment, and nodded understanding. "Sorcery... Well, I do know how to write that. I moved the quill without giving myself time to consider. That is true."

"It matters not; you will improve," Saeldur assured the Elfling. "I am going to write the correct spelling of this word, and you will then copy it ten times so that it stays in your mind. Yes, you may say the error does not need to be addressed because you already know it, but you will thank me when this practice keeps you from making similar mistakes in the future. You can protest if you wish, but I will then have you copy the word twenty times instead. That is your choice."

As his student began the work with a soft sigh, the Prince Regent pulled a small leaf out from his tunic pocket and stuck it underneath his tongue. The healers had given him medicines to help with the effects from his slowly mending injury, but the herbs had done nothing. This was his own find, come from a strange looking plant he had stumbled across whilst training as a warrior just a few years back. He did not know if his discovery had any name or was even used by those in the medical profession, but chewing the little leaf drove away discomfort, and that was all that mattered to him. Indeed, so caught up was he in the relief from pain that he did not hear his name being called. He was only dimly aware of it, and his attention was refocused a second too late. Without thinking, Thranduil had nudged his cousin's shoulder with the corner of his book, eliciting a sharp gasp from the older Elf.

"Valar," he ground out. "Did you have to do that?"

"I am sorry, I forgot that you... I didn't mean to hurt you," Thranduil answered swiftly. "You were not listening to me, I just... Are you well?"

"Fine, but you can write your misspelt word an additional ten times. Perhaps that will teach you to think," Saeldur retorted, his voice cool. He watched the child's golden head bow as the instruction was reluctantly carried out, and knew that the blue eyes would be narrowed in unseen irritation. At any other time he might have made a chiding comment, but the stabs of pain shooting up and down his injured arm held him silent. It was probably for the best. He did not wish to be guilty of teaching his student a forbidden curse. No matter what good the King and Queen thought of him, they would certainly not approve of that.

Reaching the end of his task, Thranduil lay down his quill and closed the book of parchment with a soft sigh. "I have finished."

"Very well, your lessons are over for the day. You may leave," Saeldur said. As the harsh sound of chair legs scraping across the floor assaulted his ears, he reached out and caught the Elfling's chin between finger and thumb. "Do not be sullen. It is a trait unbecoming to one of your status. Accept the mild punishment I gave you, and move on. Holding onto resentment will hinder the progress we make, and I am sure you do not want that. Do you?"

"No...sir."

The Prince Regent smiled briefly and pulled his hand back, giving a short nod of dismissal. "Good. Be on your way. I will expect you on time tomorrow."

Pausing a moment to mutter an assurance that he would not be late, Thranduil left the room without a backward glance and broke into an immediate run in the very instant the door swung shut behind him, ignoring the glances cast his way and not slowing until he was out in the open air. He stopped on the palace steps, his eyes turned towards the blue sky in a bid to banish the irritation that held him in a firm grip. His friends would only ask what was troubling him if he could not mask his emotions, and he had no wish to defend the way he had previously pleaded with his father for permission to be put under Saeldur's tutelage. Great amounts of pride dictated that being in the wrong was an unthinkable concept for him. He was content to shield the truth if it meant not having to admit that perhaps, just perhaps, another path should have been taken.

Breathing deeply, he walked across the paved courtyard to the corner occupied by the two children he had watched from the window. A wooden sword came flying through the air to land a short distance from him, and he smiled slightly as he picked the practice weapon up and held it out to Veassen. "Be careful with that. You could have an unsuspecting Elf's eye out. Our weapons master would not be pleased if he saw your carelessness."

"Not my fault," the brown haired boy muttered.

With a shake of his head, Linwë tucked his sword behind the belt around his waist and gestured for his friend to do the same. "Come, we have been here all afternoon waiting for our Prince to finish his royal studying. I want to go swimming in the lake before evening falls and we are called home. Does that sound agreeable to both of you?"

"I care not," Thranduil replied quietly. "Anything is preferable to those lessons of mine."

"You are not enjoying them?" Veassen asked.

As they left the palace grounds and began their walk through the verdant forest of Greenwood, the Prince made a movement with his head that was neither shake nor nod. "Well..." He would like nothing more than to let go and complain of the pedestal his cousin seemed to stand upon in their time of study, but that would mean holding up his hands and admitting that he had been wrong. Better just to bite his tongue and continue pretending. "Do either of you take pleasure from hours of reading and writing? No, they could be much worse. I am...content with them."

"Is your cousin fair?" Veassen pressed.

"Not like Maethor, but he treats me well enough and is a good tutor. Please, don't worry that I am unhappy," Thranduil assured them with a small smile. "Both of you have at least one older sibling. Just try and imagine being taught by them. You would almost certainly find it something of a struggle at times."

"I think it was a fool idea anyway," Linwë said under his breath.

Glancing sideways at his friend, the blond haired boy shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "I was doing a loved one a favour, and I don't expect to be his student for any more than a year. Saeldur can rejoin the army when his strength fully returns. Trust me, my time with him will be over soon enough."

"If you say so."

"What does that mean?"

Linwë copied Thranduil's shrug. "Not much, just that I think you have got yourself into something you will be hard pushed to escape from. For the love of the Valar, your cousin is an Elf. He has centuries, millennia to be a warrior. What difference will a few years teaching you make to him? No, you are very wrong. His strength may come back but he will not take advantage of that straight away. You will be trapped studying under him until you reach your majority."

"Don't argue," Veassen said softly.

"Who is arguing?" Thranduil snapped back. Drawing in a deep breath to calm himself, he turned his blue eyes upon the green ones of his antagonist. "I am not wrong in this. Do you truly believe that I would have convinced my father to let Saeldur teach me if I thought his tutelage would last for any great amount of time? I was persistent only because I knew – and I still do – that it will be over in a matter of months and he will be replaced by someone else."

"Don't be naive," Linwë scorned.

"Do you even know what the word means?" Thranduil flared.

Stepping between his friends before they could take their quarrel any further, Veassen held out both hands, pressing them firmly against the other Elflings' chests. "Stop it or I shall go back to my house and stay in there until the pair of you grow up. Why are you arguing about something that isn't worth the time or effort? Don't ruin a pleasant afternoon just because you cannot control your tempers. Valar, you are as bad as each other."

"Fine," Linwë hissed. "Forget I was ever concerned."

"I will not forget that, but I do think it is unneeded. You shall know if there is true cause for worry; I will tell you myself," Thranduil said, softening his voice slightly in an attempt at placation. "Can we just pretend this didn't happen? Let's go on to the lake. We can have a few hours there before evening falls."

The older boy shook his copper head, and cast a backward glance over his shoulder. "No. I don't feel like doing that now. My brother needs help with some chores as it is, so I should be getting back to the settlement before he comes looking for me."

"Linwë, you don't have to-" As his friend nodded a farewell before turning and walking away in the other direction through the trees, Thranduil let his eyes fly towards the sky in exasperation. "He did not have to do that, Veassen. He could have stayed. I had no plans to apologise, but nor did I intend to push the conversation any further."

"He did have to go."

"Why?"

"You know how he is," Veassen exhaled. "He has a tendency to fall in a strange mood if things fail to go the way he wishes. He wanted you to admit that you were wrong about your cousin because he thinks he is right, but you're just as stubborn. Don't trouble yourself with worrying over it. Linwë will come around soon enough. I am sure that by tomorrow morning he will have forgotten that a single angry word was exchanged."

Thranduil nodded quietly, focusing his attention on the long forest path stretching out in front of him as he started to follow it once more. "What are your thoughts? Do you agree with him?"

"Perhaps there is some truth to Linwë's argument. It may be that Saeldur will teach you for longer than you think because the years will be so few compared to the time he can have as a warrior. Time goes slowly for us; although we dislike being treated as such, we are children. For adults it must fly past," Veassen said somewhat uncomfortably, ready to defend himself in an instant if his words were met with anger. "There it is. You asked me what I think."

"And you are entitled to an opinion, just as I am," Thranduil sighed. "And Linwë."

"You are not going to snap at me?"

"Not this time."

Veassen smiled slightly, and touched a hand to his friend's shoulder. "I am glad of that. Now come, just because Linwë has stormed away in a sulk, that does not mean we too must be miserable. The lake will still be there without him to enjoy it. What do you say to an hour of swimming before going to my house for some berry pie? My mother has been working in the kitchen all day. Then my father can take you back to the palace this evening."

"I say that sounds perfect," Thranduil grinned.

The two Elflings walked in quiet companionship beneath the beautifully green canopy of leaves not yet turned brown and yellow by the turn of seasons, each silently looking forward to the fun and games they would have at the pool they frequented when busy timetables and lessons did not interfere. Whilst their play might be somewhat calmer with the absence of the most vivacious member of their party, neither of them truly minded. Although seriousness was not beyond Linwë's capabilities, the chance to hold deep conversation was seldom available in his company. Weary after hard hours of study with a strict tutor, Thranduil especially was in no mood for wildness. Moments of rare relaxation would be pleasant indeed, and more than welcome to chase away his sour mood of not so long ago.

As they passed through columns of beech trees, a strange tingling sensation crept over his skin and a shiver ran down his spine. Azure eyes narrowed in suspicion flicked to all sides, searching for something unidentifiable. Their owner had paled, but he held his head high as he scoured the surrounding woodland. "Veassen," he breathed. "Ve... What is that?"

"Hmm?"

"That...thing. Can you not sense it?" Thranduil pressed, his voice hushed.

"Should I?" Veassen asked warily. "What are you looking for? What do you see?"

The golden head of the Prince shook once; although he held up a hand as though for silence, he leaned forwards to address his friend in a soft hiss. "I see nothing, but the feeling is here and I know that I am not imagining anything, before you voice such an idea. Do you remember travelling through Lothlórien on the journey from Lindon? It was as though someone was constantly inside our heads, intruding on our thoughts and secrets. This is the same, only whoever I can sense is not listening. They are watching."

"Valar, you had me worried there for a moment. Trust you to cause a panic over something so trivial!" Veassen laughed in relief, and nudged the other boy's shoulder. "Linwë has clearly thought better of returning to the settlement and is somewhere in the trees debating whether he should come out and apologise now or wait until tomorrow when the whole incident will be forgotten."

"It is not him," Thranduil said sharply.

"Of course it is. Wait five minutes and he will step out from behind-

"No, Veassen! He was irritated with me, but even the greatest anger could not put such fire in his eyes as the flames that burn from somewhere close. The one who is watching does so in hatred and cruelty, and you know as well as I that Linwë could never be capable of those feelings. It is not a friend," Thranduil murmured, turning to pierce the trees with his own bright pools. "There is an enemy in this place, and... Perhaps I was wrong to help my cousin and have him as my tutor, but I know that I have never been more right than I am now. I know."

"Do you think it is the Elf who attacked the Prince Regent?" Veassen whispered. A raging gaze alighted upon him, and although no words were spoken, he read it easily. Drawing himself up taller, he set his jaw and nodded determinedly. "Race me."

"What?"

"Race me to my house. The winner receives two pieces of berry pie. Race me."

Understanding dawned, and Thranduil spun on his heel without waiting to see if his friend was following. He did not have to, for the soft sound of deerskin shoes slapping against the forest floor just a few steps behind reached his ears easily. The two children ran as though their very lives depended upon unwavering speed, which was not far from the truth to the best of their knowledge, but the desperate flight was without need. A slender figure slid fluidly from the thick branches of a tree, taking a moment to brush invisible specks of dust from the ankle length cloak of green they wore draped over their shoulders with the hood pulled high and the cowl hiding a face intensified by evil intent.

"Fly as far as you wish," the stranger breathed. "My hand has not extended its full length yet by any means, but the moment my fingers reach out and begin touching the silken strands of your life, escape will never be granted to you. Prepare to drown in a world of tears, Your Highness."

Five days had passed since those jagged words uttered in nobody's hearing, and the search for the mystery Elf had heightened after the revelation from Thranduil and his companion that they had encountered the culprit whilst walking through the forest. More and more pairs of eyes were added to the hunt, but in spite of their keenness and the impossibly far sight given only to immortal creatures, no progress had been made. Those who were unable to play a part in the chase for answers and justice had given up asking questions when family members or friends returned home. All they had to do was look into faces darkened with frustration, and the wish for answers would fall dead on their lips. Flashing eyes would silently tell them, 'perhaps tomorrow'.

Autumnal wind raged outside, and Thranduil watched from his place on a furry rug by the fire as his mother pulled a floor length curtain across the locked balcony doors as if that would somehow keep the whistling noise from entering in. "Is it raining, Nana?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm?" Queen Felith glanced over her shoulder at the boy, and graced him with a small smile. "Yes, it has begun to. I deem the forest shall suffer some harsh weather through these coming months."

"That will make it more difficult to find the Elf who shot Saeldur," Thranduil thought aloud.

Sighing quietly, the fair immortal lady sank into a chair a short way from the fire. Gesturing with one slender hand, her lips turned upwards as her only child moved closer and rested his head against her knee. "No, starling. It will not. Remember that we had no luck finding him even before the weather turned for the worse. There have never been tracks or clues left. I cannot see that there will be any difference now the rains are coming."

"Perhaps..."

"You are tired," Felith softly observed. "You should have been abed thirty minutes back. I know you would wait to hear from your father if there have been developments, but go now and get some rest. It could be another hour before he returns. I promise that we shall wake you if anything of great significance has occurred."

"You promise?" Thranduil repeated seriously.

"So I said, penneth."

The Prince considered for a moment before nodding quiet acquiescence and rising from where he sat upon the carpeted floor. "Very well. Goodnight, Nana," he murmured, leaning forwards to kiss his mother's smooth cheek.

"Goodnight. I love you," Felith whispered against the luxurious strands of hair which mingled with her own.

"I love you more."

"You do not, but we could be here for many hours debating that argument," the Queen laughed gently. "Off you go."

Matching the lady's smile, Thranduil left the family lounge area and headed towards his sleeping chamber at the other end of the royal wing. Even in the corridor he could still hear the wild wind outside, harsh enough to make its way through stone walls and heavy wooden doors, and he released a soft sigh. No matter how much he would like for sleep to come the moment his head touched the pillow, the elements would be sure to keep it at bay. All he could wish for was that a night of restlessness would not impact upon his concentration in the lessons with his cousin tomorrow. Caught up in reflections that he would like to pass at least an hour of study without stepping on the wrong side of his cousin's temper, the Crown Prince failed to see the Elf approaching him until a voice known only too well broke into his thoughts.

"What are you doing wandering the palace at this time?"

Thranduil winced, and looked down at himself. He had not even changed from his day clothes into a night tunic. "Ada... I was...waiting."

"Did you expect to hear good tidings?" Oropher asked. Without waiting for an answer, he shook his dark head with an exhalation of breath. "No, there is nothing to tell you. The last searchers have given their reports and returned home for the night. Perhaps tomorrow will bring more luck, although... I have said that before. More than once."

"You will find him eventually," Thranduil said quietly.

Another sigh, deeper this time, left the immortal King's lips and he brushed a hand against his son's shoulder. "Few have your faith, including myself. It has been six weeks since the attack on your cousin, and our long hours of hunting have yielded nothing but frustration and wasted time. Were the culprit human, our task would be an easy one. But he is an Elf, and cunning enough that he knows how to hide all trace of himself from other Elves. We have no clues, no fresh leads, no... We have nothing."

"Ada, you do. Veassen and I sensed him-

"No, child. He was not there," Oropher broke in softly.

"Do you think I am lying?" Thranduil whispered. Again?

"Not once have I said that. You told me yourself that your other friend had left in a temper, and I cannot help but think that it was his eyes you felt. I know you are adamant that it was not Linwë, but it would be only natural for you to fear the worst after Saeldur was attacked," Oropher replied evenly. "Yes, I believe that you were being watched. But the belief that it was by the Elf we are hunting has fled me and the time has come to withdraw our search from the vicinity you were in. He is not there. He never was."

Thranduil drew his eyes away from the dark green orbs of his father, focusing his attention on an invisible point further down the corridor. There was no point arguing. It did not matter that he knew, without a doubt, that he was right. "If that is what you think, then... I was only trying to help. I thought it would make things easier and would find him more swiftly, but if you don't..."

"I know what you were trying to do, and I appreciate it. Now, perhaps you should be thinking about going to bed. It is late and you have lessons tomorrow morning," Oropher reminded the child. "Go."

"Yes, Ada." Although he turned to leave the other Elf's presence, something tugged at the Prince's mind and he hesitated a moment, remembering the way he and his mother had bade each other goodnight not so long ago. Maybe it was too much to hope, but there was nothing to lose by at least trying. "Ada? I... I love you." The words came out in a rush, and he held his breath as he waited for a reply.

"Goodnight, ion-nín," Oropher said softly.

Thranduil's heart sank, but he inaudibly scolded himself as he continued the short walk down the corridor and into his own rooms. If he was going to make an attempt at shared affection, he should know better by now than to expect great amounts of reciprocation from his father. The door swung shut behind him with a barely heard creak, and he released a weary breath as he headed towards the wardrobe to find a new nightshirt. As he searched, a shiver ran down his spine and his eyes flew towards the balcony doors. They were shut and locked, he knew, but why did he feel as though not all was well? As though he was being watched? Biting on his lower lip, he forgot the nightwear and the wardrobe, and walked across the room to press his nose against the cool glass panes. Darkness stretched for miles and miles, still and silent and impenetrable. There was nothing there. More than likely it had been just an owl or... Movement from down below caught the Prince's attention and put an immediate stop to his thoughts, and he breathed in sharply as realisation hit. Saeldur... His cousin was outside. His still healing cousin was outside and the attacker was still loose. Without waiting to consider, he spun around and left at a run, refusing to stop until he was close enough to help.

Glancing upwards at the dark night sky as he stepped out of a rarely used back door, Thranduil grimaced as droplets of rainwater hit his eyes and snaked their way down the back of his tunic. It was no good wishing that he had a cloak without turning right around and going back to his room to find one, so he entered into a drizzle that was all too swiftly becoming a downpour and ran lightly across the rear courtyard. Puddles forming over the paved stones were easily dodged by the nimble footed Elf, although the sheer force of the weather was making it increasingly difficult to remain upright even with the natural balance gifted to Elves. The tall figure some way ahead seemed to have no such troubles. He strode through the rain almost heedless of it, his head high and shoulders squared as though on a personal quest to be hindered only by the bravest of souls.

As he came closer to his cousin, the Crown Prince reached out one hand through the rain to catch at the whipping cloak just a short distance in front of him. He felt that would be a safer option than raising his voice above the raging elements and potentially alerting someone to their presence outside. Seconds before his fingers even grazed the soft material of the cape, Saeldur whirled around and shoved him violently away. He hit the stone wall of an outbuilding with a hiss of shock, and the speed with which escape was rendered an impossible notion made his eyes widen. Strong arms pinned him to the hard surface, and his struggles were futile. No! How is this possible? He should be weak! Thranduil tried his best to push his captor away, but the fingers digging painfully into his shoulders were enough to hold him still.

"You were following me," Saeldur snarled. He had not asked a question, and the grip upon his cousin tightened as the younger Elf opened his mouth to reply. "You sneak! What gives you the right to spy on me?"

"I didn't... I wasn't! How can you think yourself strong enough to be out alone in this weather?" Even as he spoke the words, Thranduil wondered why they had fallen from his lips. If the Prince Regent had the strength to pin him so forcefully, he certainly was not so weak as to hide from a storm. Nevertheless, he pressed on with his argument. "I saw you enter the courtyard from outside the palace grounds, so you must have been in the forest. If the healers found out, or your father-

Emerald eyes flickered for just a moment before their owner hissed in contempt. "Be silent! Now, I am going to turn around and go to my rooms alone. You will follow when I am out of sight, but do not walk the same way I do. We will not look upon each other until the morning, and then there will be no mention of tonight from either of us. You did not see me out here. You were tucked up in your bed and that is where you stayed until the rising of the sun. I hope we have an understanding."

Struggling to keep his breathing even, Thranduil waited until his cousin had begun to stalk away before voicing the question preying on his mind. "Were you with a lady?"

"What is it to you?" Saeldur turned, and advanced slowly upon the child with a wild and never before seen light shining in the depths of his gaze. "My business is my own, and I answer to no-one. So tell me, what is it to you whether I was with a lady or taking a walk beneath the trees or anything else? Hmm? You cannot answer, can you? You have no answer."

"I just-

His defence was cut in half by a sharp gasp as he tried to dodge the hand which flew through the air to connect painfully with his cheek. The blow was not hard enough to conceive tears, but they came nonetheless from shock and the fear that something terrible must have happened to make his cousin resort to violence. Saeldur had a temper and lost it frequently, but despite their differences he had never, never... Thranduil closed his eyes tightly and pressed the sleeve of his wet tunic to the side of his face, letting the rain trickle down his skin and cool the burning sensation. He dared not speak, dared not ask why. He could not bring himself to look into the flashing jewels of green fire high above him, for he knew that facing a glare filled with such fury would crumble his resolve into dust until nothing left of it remained. All that existed for him was the unavoidable fact that the one Elf he had always loved as a brother had struck out with hatred marring his fairness.

As the rain soaked his clothes and golden strands of hair plastered themselves to his face, the young Elf forced courage to come and opened his eyes. Except for the falling water, darkness and a solitary cat hunting for a night time meal, he was alone. His eyes flew wildly around the courtyard, searching for someone he knew would not be there, and he let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting on the wet floor. He ignored the dampness seeping through his tunic and leggings, oblivious to it all as he rested his head in trembling hands and tried to understand, struggled without success to answer the questions flying through his head. He was unaware for how long he sat there in the pouring rain, but when he finally sought sanctuary in his own warm sleeping chamber, the first light of dawn was slowly making itself known across the sky.

A red apple was held loosely in Saeldur's hand as he stood next to a large bay window and watched without really seeing the flight of a great flock of birds over the treetops. He had not graced the dining room with his presence that morning. Sleep had failed to come easily the previous night, and although he could not remember lying awake for hours in the darkness, the reluctance to rise from his bed with the appearance of Anor was enough to tell him that something of importance must have occurred to render him so weary. He sighed quietly, and touched his left shoulder. That was another strange concept that he was struggling to grasp. Almost overnight, the pain from his six week old injury had disappeared and strength was suddenly returned as though it had never existed in the first place. He asked no questions and spoke of the miracle to none, but inside he was screaming for answers. Why did his memory extend only to a certain point and then stop? Why had he woken to find his cloak soaked through? What had he done last night in the darkness that he somehow knew he should be ashamed of?

Movement in the window panes caught his attention, and he could not help starting as he realised that the door to his teaching room had opened and closed without his knowledge. He turned slowly, and nodded in silent greeting to the young Elf watching him from the other side of the chamber. "Good morning," he murmured. "I did not hear you... Sit down; there is much we have to work through today. I want to get started on some history from the First Age, so... Sit."

Thranduil made no move, holding a set of books to his chest and regarding the Prince Regent with his head tilted to one side like a bird. He said nothing. It looked for a moment as though he would turn around and walk away again, but instead he came forwards and pulled a chair out from under the table with a harsh jerk. Green eyes were fixed steadily upon him, and he held them without flinching. Courage may have fled him last night, but now he held his head high and kept his face impassive. He had debated conjuring a plausible explanation to forsake his lessons that day until a sharp voice from inside his own head told him that if he allowed himself to be beaten then he would appear weak. He could not let that happen. As he told himself that once more to reinforce the message, a hand entered his vision and ran down the loose hair hanging over his shoulder. He immediately pulled away, accompanying the movement with a hiss.

"Why do you recoil?" Saeldur asked quietly. "Your hair is damp. I just...wondered."

"Did you?"

Looking up at the frostiness in his cousin's voice, the raven haired Elf took a seat next to him and placed a hand atop the book he had been about to open. "Leave that. Before we begin, I want you to tell me something. I woke this morning and found that my clothes and the cloak I wore last night were wet. Why would that be? Is it a coincidence that neither they nor your hair are dry?"

"What do you think?" Thranduil murmured.

"Had I an answer to my own question, why would I take the trouble to speak it aloud? I know that I went for a walk later in the evening to see how far I could go before strength failed me, but I returned to the palace before the rain came. The clouds were dark, and I sensed a downpour so I turned around and came home," Saeldur said vehemently. "How did I become wet if I was under a roof? Tell me how that happened."

"Perhaps you were not under a roof. Could it be that you stayed outside for longer than you think?" As the older immortal's head shook immediately, Thranduil leaned forwards and rested both arms on the table, studying his cousin from narrowed eyes. All he could see was genuine confusion and a desire for knowledge. "I am uncertain of what you wish me to say. You left the palace grounds and went through the forest. Did you go a great distance?"

"I cannot have walked for more than fifteen minutes. After that, there is nothing. I do not remember the journey back here or going to my bed or even falling asleep. And yet..." Saeldur shook his head again, slowly this time. "I must have done all of that. I am here now, no?"

"Yes. Yes, you are."

"Memory loss cannot be healthy," the Prince Regent jested quietly.

"No."

"Thranduil, are you sure that there is no more light to be shed on this?" Saeldur pressed. "If you know something but you have not told me... Please. I need to know."

Only silence existed as the child considered his situation. He could not spend too much time in thought; that would certainly give away the fact that he was hiding the truth behind a mask of impassiveness and words. "There...there is something else," he said eventually, his voice hushed. "I went to my bed later than I usually do last night, and as I checked that the balcony doors were locked, I saw you in the courtyard. You looked unwell, weak, as though you needed help. I went outside and took you to your rooms. You were...confused. The walk must have been too much for you. You did not remember leaving the palace grounds. In fact, I am unsure that you even knew who I was. You tired yourself. You tried to do too much."

"I did?"

"Hmm."

Saeldur passed one hand over his face, and he shook his dark head with a small smile curving his lips upwards. "No. Lies, all lies. He is lying."

"It is the truth," Thranduil replied warily. "I helped you-

"Silence!"

As books and parchment flew from the table with one sweep of his cousin's hand, the Crown Prince pushed his chair back and spun on his heel towards the door. The light from before that had burnt so brightly in the green eyes of Saeldur was back with just as much intensity, and his voice held a hundred jagged stalactites. This was not the Elf he knew. Something was wrong, and Thranduil was not naive enough to think that he could calm the raging force before him with simple words and a placating expression. He reached the other side of the room in seconds, but a hand stronger than he could fight against caught the back of his tunic and pulled him away from the door. He felt himself being shaken violently, madly, and no amount of resistance on his part could set him free. All he could do was wait until it was over, until he was thrown to the floor and his tormentor strode away from him with a feral snarl.

"You are lying to me," Saeldur whispered, running both hands through his long hair. "Lying, you are lying, you are lying. Why? I do not like being lied to. But you did it. You lied!"

"No..."

"You lied!"

"Maybe I...had it wrong," Thranduil breathed. He chanced a look over his shoulder, but the door was too far away to reach without being seen. "I could have mistaken-

Flinging one hand out to silence his cousin, Saeldur jumped forwards and gripped the child's chin with crushing force. "If I was weak, how do you explain this? Why are you unable to fight against me? Yes, you were very much mistaken, but of course you knew that all along. You did not help me last night. I care not for the occurrences of an evening past, but whatever they were, you lied to me. You will learn in time that I hate liars, I hate them and I hate what you have done."

"If I upset you-

"You lied to me."

Saeldur pushed the boy away from him, jerking his hand back and spinning away to face the other side of the room, his breathing heavy as though he had greatly exerted himself. He was silent and unmoving, glaring at the wall and throwing all of his emotions into that smooth surface, a safer option than directing them anywhere else. It was not until a stifled sob reached his ears that the mad light in his eyes flickered out of existence and an expression of wonderment passed across his fair face. He looked slowly from side to side. His mouth opened to voice a question, but it did not come. Instead he just continued to look, searching for the pieces of his memory that had suddenly vanished from time and space. No answers were yielded, and he turned only his head to look over his shoulder. The sight which greeted him came as a sharp shock, and he whirled around on his heel to stare at his cousin through wide eyes.

"What...what happened?"

"You know," Thranduil whispered.

"No, I do not. Your lessons should have started already, why are you...? For the love of the Valar, child. This is the room in which you study. Get up from the floor. If you wish to play around, wait until you see your friends. Are you shaking your head at me?" Saeldur asked, disbelief colouring his voice. "I told you to get up. Do it, now. I am more than happy to give you an additional hour of history if that is the way you wish to... What are you even doing?"

As his cousin took a step towards him, Thranduil backed away until he could retreat no further. "Come no closer," he hissed. "Stay where you are."

"You sound terrified. Your face is pale." The Prince Regent cocked his head like a deer listening to the wind, and let his eyes scan the previously immaculate room. Open books and pieces of parchment lay scattered upon the floor; an ink bottle had fallen and smashed. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How did this happen? Did you do this?"

"Me? Did I do it? You made that mess seconds before shaking me like a rag doll and throwing me to the ground. Say that you remember it. Say that you do!" Fear flew through Thranduil's eyes, and he recoiled as best he could from the Elf who came forth to kneel at his side. "Don't touch me. If you lay one finger upon me, I swear that what you have done will go straight to the King and your father. Do not touch me."

"Of what do you speak? Do you mean to say that I am responsible for this? But I have no memory," Saeldur reflected uncertainly. Resting his head in both hands, it shook from side to side as he fought desperately for a comprehension that did not seem to be arriving. "This must be some jest. I never did like that boy you associate with. Linwë... It is his influence forcing you to make such an implication against me. Unless... Unless I truly did... Tell me what happened last night."

"You struck me," Thranduil said quietly, touching his left cheek. "Here."

"And the proof?"

"Faded."

Saeldur looked up through a curtain of black hair. He was a fine actor when the need arose, but even the greatest performer would struggle to portray such genuine confusion. "I know well that you and I are not the best of friends. I easily lose my patience and at times I snap, but no matter how you anger me I have never raised my hand to you. Not like that."

"Until last night," Thranduil corrected, his voice softer than before. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"I could not if the continuation of my very existence was dependent upon it." Rising from his place kneeling on the floor, Saeldur sighed wearily and held out one hand to his cousin. It was not taken, as he expected. "Please, stand. Looking at you backed against the wall in that way is an awful reminder of this thing that I should be aware of. What will you do now? Where do we go from here?"

The child got to his feet, pointedly keeping his gaze averted as he stepped past the Prince Regent to gather his scattered books from the floor. He could feel a pair of green eyes upon his back silently pleading for help, and the knowledge that his arrogantly proud relative felt so lost tugged at his anger until it drifted away entirely. "A part of me wants to find my father and tell him everything that has happened, both tonight and today. But the other part of me, the greater part, says it would be unjust for you to suffer his wrath when clearly you understand no more than I do. So...this will be a secret. I will keep it because we are cousins and I care deeply for you. The King will not find out about this."

"My second chance will not be wasted," Saeldur said quietly.

"Today was your second chance." Reaching out to pull on the door handle, Thranduil paused and looked over his shoulder. "Do not waste your third."

TBC