Author's Note:

Gah, stupid stupid gir. Okay, this one took so long cause the original outline for this chapter involved Elrond and the family coming to Mirkwood on Estel's birthday, but it proved too difficult to waylay all the emotions into sequence with actions that made sense. was also being a chewd and wouldn't let me upload this for like three days. Guess what inspired me to get this chapter finished. I was at this restaurant that had one of those bubble gum coin machines with these positive virtues and attitudes bracelets in it. I put in my fifty cents and out came "HOPE". I took it as a sign.

I've been binging on V-8 and watching old Disney movies all day. Lol, those were the days when all the animals talked and it was cute as hell and you never realized just how sad it was until you watch again twelve years later. I was balling when Mufasa died! Oh god and Bambi's mom! sobs hysterically

WARNING: Ok, when I rated this I forgot about this one part I was going to have later on. Look, it's nothing too bad. It's just a small sexual reference that doesn't go very far at all. If you wanna flame then whatever. It has a slightly mature theme to it, but the only people who should be uber surprised are like 12 or innocent 13 year olds. Otherwise I hope you can be mature about it.

Sorry, no reviewer responses this time because is being a chewd and is having problems with this file.

oOoOoOo

Reteaching the Wise

Turning Point…

Legolas surveyed the still closed door and sighed. Estel hadn't emerged for a few days now. The boy had arrived in the beginning of spring. It was now winter. For Legolas the months had passed by quickly and they had been the happiest he could ever remember. It was hard to think of life before Estel had entered it with his boisterous attitude. Legolas smiled softly at the ground. Estel certainly created memorable moments.

"Um, Legolas…" Thranduil stood, but made sure to keep the desk between the two of them. Old habits born of long years of detachment died very hard indeed.

"Yes, my king?" Legolas shifted, apprehension filling his body with unnoticeable tremors.

"I know that-that we haven't been very close as of late and that I haven't celebrated your conception day since your mother passed away…"

Legolas gave a start, almost like a spasmodic jerk. His father had remembered!

"…so I hope that perhaps this could make up for all those missing moments that we should have shared together."

King Thranduil produced the most beautiful thing Legolas swore that he had ever had the privilege to see from behind the desk. Being held out to Legolas by his father's hands was the unmistakable craftsmanship of a Lorien bow.

"Oh ada…"

The Mirkwood King started just as his son had done. He could hardly remember his son calling him that. Almost desperate to keep his son's pleasure and happiness that had been so scarce in the past years Thranduil stumbled over an explanation.

"It's not a custom make. I'm sorry…ion-nin, but in such troubled times I could only get you a standard Lorien bow. The Lady and Lord of the Wood don't exactly give these out as party favors."

Legolas, acting as if the desk had never been thought as a barrier ever before, bolted to hug his father. The return of the gesture came rather slow, as it had been one out of much needed practice.

"I love you ada."

"You too ion-nin."

Suddenly the awkwardness seemed to pass and the familiarity came flooding back through their embrace. It had been a long time, too long, but not so long as they thought. Legolas broke the hug and dashed to the door.

"I'm going to go practice!" Legolas explained, dashing for the door excitedly.

Right at the end of the hallway he bumped into Estel. Estel gave him a smile, looking from his bow and then to his joyous face. Legolas smirked knowingly.

"Thank you Estel."

A grin. "For the bow or for your father?"

"For everything."

Legolas sighed heavily as he gave another wayward glance at the door, as if it would magically open in a shower of gold sparks if he checked often enough. He knew that it probably wouldn't happen. The past weeks Estel had been withdrawing more and more and to Legolas' dismay he also started to eat less as well. Legolas knew what was happening. He could see it in the boy and he could see it in his letters. Estel was getting weary. He was tired. Legolas was even starting to believe that he could be fading.

Legolas glared at the door before standing up. Leaving each other alone and not confronting each other's feelings was what had separated he and his father, he wasn't going to make this same mistake with Estel. His resolve strong, Legolas marched to the door and yanked it open. He was met with the sight of an empty room and the balcony doors wide open, leaves blowing lazily into the room. Legolas surveyed this for only a second before bolting out of the room in search of the human.

It had taken hours. Through the gardens, in the kitchens, to the practice fields, and everywhere in between Legolas had searched, but he had found nothing. Actually, he had found several things reported missing by some of the inhabitants, but that was beside the point. Then, he heard a faint pitter patter of cascading droplets that he had not noticed at first since the sound seemed to fade into the background. Legolas stood still and listened. Like rain…just like rain…

They had been on another hunt, eager after enduring so many days of spring rain. Even then it was drizzling on and off. Estel wanted to explore a little west while everyone else wanted to go east. Legolas had agreed to go with Estel. They had walked and talked for a long while, but eventually they discovered a small canyon-ish thing running through the forest. It was just a little too wide to jump across and it was about as deep as their heights. It had probably been carved from the years of rainfall and had been deepened from the recent erosion. In fact, there was a small stream of water running down the very bottom from the rains. They stood together at one of the sides.

"Well, we have two options. We can follow this down to see if it narrows down or we can hop down and climb up the opposite side," Legolas said, sizing up the situation logically.

"It might take too long to find an easy crossing point and this isn't that big of an obstruction anyways. Let's just go. It will be more of an adventure!" Estel was already starting to ease down the side.

Legolas frowned as he followed after his human friend. This side of the stream was fairly solid. Even Estel's steps marked the damp earth with only slight impressions. They both made small leaps across the stream to the opposite bank and…sunk. Both of their feet they had landed on sank into the mud. Both panicked and grabbed on to each other, struggling wildly. Estel had to put his other leg back in order to keep himself balanced, his boot landing in the stream and sinking even further into the mud. Legolas was able to pull himself free, with a prominent slurping kind of noise and started to climb his way up the opposite side. It was steeper than expected and he grabbed on to a plant to help haul himself up. He had nearly gained the edge when Estel, finally extracting himself from the thick goo, grabbed onto his cloak. The plant, its roots submerged in the wet earth, came free and sent the two friends falling back to the muddy bottom. Estel, who had been closer to the bottom, fell unceremoniously onto his backside.

Legolas was not as lucky and found himself sprawled halfway in the stream with muddy water soaking through his clothes. They had made a desperate struggle up the side again, half clawing, half clambering madly up. They lay panting on the opposite side of the gorge, their hands and knees covered in dirt. They remained in that position for several long minutes. Legolas turned to face his companion, giving him his best glare. Estel returned it with an apologetic smile, his eyes twinkling.

"Now wasn't that more fun than going around?"

Legolas' eyes snapped open. He knew where to go.

He was standing there at the edge of the cliffs, like their first day together and their first day of their friendship, but unlike that day Estel's shoulders were hunched and he was not lost in thought, instead his mind seemed to be thrown asunder in his storming emotions. In his hands he bore a white rose and red rose, accompanied by a fiery orange wildflower.

Legolas watched in silence as Estel's hands opened numbly and the flowers seemed to drift slowly downwards in dancing spirals before disappearing into the dark foliage.

"This was the day they passed away," he whispered quietly.

Legolas felt a cold chill travel down his spine as his mind spun about to come out sickeningly empty. He had tried to suppress the memories for so long and had tried to bury the pain so deep that he had forgotten the day his mother had left behind this earth.

Legolas put a comforting hand on the youth's shoulders. "I do not wish to offend but I do clearly remember you being the one telling me that we should celebrate life, not death."

Estel was still looking where the flowers had disappeared.

"Yes, but as life was too short, today I shall remember their deaths."

It was well at night before Legolas had convinced Estel to return to his rooms. Estel went to change into his sleep attire when he stopped to examine his bare torso in the mirror. Estel sighed at the rather sorry sight. Yes, his body had become rather muscular and toned but, his chest, stomach, shoulders, and back was marred with bruises. They weren't only from combat training. Estel also began to think of memories from the past few months, but unlike Legolas they weren't quite as pleasant.

He sagged lamely between the two elves' grip, blood pumping in his head.

"So what's your answer today Estel?" one of the elves spat.

He kept quiet, focusing on breathing. He received another hard punch to his already terribly bruised ribs. He grunted. It never ceased to amaze him that his poor chest and abdomen had not shattered yet. He was already fairly sore from combat training, but combined with these nearly constant beatings his body was starting to become tired from the damage. It was getting harder and harder to get back up again.

One of the younger elves came pelting back from his post at the end of the corridor.

"Price Legolas is here!"

The elf put his face nose to nose with Estel. "Well, it looks like tomorrow will give us an opportunity for yet another of our favorite arguments."

They left the other way as he slumped back to the ground. The elves from his class had been pressuring him to keep silent during the lessons. He would not of course comply and so the elves thought that he had needed physical backing to their urging. They were smart though. They made sure that evidence of the abuse could not be seen; staying away from his face and arms. Estel half sat, half laid on the ground, hunched over with his hair screening his face from view. He knew that Legolas was waiting, but today he could not drag himself up again. He had lost.

Estel blanched at his image that mocked him of his weakness and quickly donned some warm sleep wear. After that last beating Estel had finally given in.He was not only getting in trouble by not being on time to the right meeting spot for Legolas after his lessons but he was continually having to nurse bruises and hurts that only he seemed to care about. It was now a necessity to put herbs or oils into his bath water in order to sooth the constant soreness. The day Estel stopped answering willingly and stayed silent throughout the entire class, Master Oridel gave him a sad and knowing look. Disappointment was clear on his face. Estel forever felt wretched in his class, one of his few senses of pride now gone.

Estel finally agreed to come out of his room and eat and continue his usual routines the next day. Legolas, however was allowing him some space and agreed to let him wander the gardens alone. He had spent a while gazing at the strange milky pale fish in the pond when he heard distant cheering from the archery fields. He clambered into a nearby tree and made his way stealthily towards the small crowd gathered of his most favorite people: Apres and Etre. There was a she elf among them. Estel immediately recognized her as one of the assistants in the healing ward.

"I beat you Apres! You owe me a date with your sister!"

"I want a rematch you cheater!"

Estel, becoming increasingly angry as he saw the same indignation that he felt so often reflected on the poor women's face, jumped down from the tree and confronting the elves.

"Are you actually defending your sister or merely your wounded pride?" Estel hissed venomously.

"Oh look, the princling's pet has been let off the leash!"

"Answer!"

Etre smiled and shrugged indifferently. "I don't seem to see a difference."

Estel marched up to the elf and gave him a hard shove. "She's a person you know. She isn't something to be used as a trophy or reward. She has feelings and opinions as well!"

"She can't do half the things we men do."

Estel kept on going, holding his ground. "If women are expected to do the same as men, then we must all be allowed to be taught the same things. Compared to most males, if females were to want to be their equals, then their ambition would be pitifully low indeed."

Etre opened his mouth, but was silenced. "Etre, if you were ever in a relationship I hope you are loyal and most of all grateful!"

Earuile gave Estel a wide smile and as she left she gave him a thankful kiss on his lips, giving the elves behind him a last glare as she did it. When her lips left his her eyes twinkled and his lips tingled. She even gave him a nice hug before finally departing. Estel stood dumbfounded. His head came crashing back onto his shoulders when the elves around him started to jeer.

"Well, it looks like the little whore is now preaching his sensitivity to all now," Apres said snidely.

"Wh-what did you call me?" Estel confidence had died as the others seemed to close around him.

"You know what you are. You didn't think that we'd all just think that the prince would keep you around if you didn't have some kind of use," Etre jabbed evilly.

Estel's hands balled into fists, but his face was blushing scarlet. "That's not true!"

"Well if it isn't the prince, then it must be Enfin!"

This set Estel off and he lunged at the elves. They were quicker though, even if Estel did put up a good fight. He was outnumbered and they quickly overpowered him, forcing him face down into the grass as they loosely tied his hands behind his back. Even though they were aiming to be cruel, it was only in jest, Estel's struggles also hindering their work. Hands crept up his shirt and Estel came to a sickening realization at what they were trying to do. Estel, having escaped under his brothers after numerous wrestling matches, was able to wriggle a bit free from their crushing weight and kicked out into two of the elves' stomachs. Their grip slackened and he pushed himself off of the ground as best he could, but Apres was able to shove him into a tree, his back pressed against the rough bark. Apres had his forearm on his neck and pressed down harder until Estel movements were stilled in order to keep from being suffocated.

Apres smiled cruelly. "Looks like I owe Etre a little fun."

At this Etre came forward and pretended to let his eyes rove up and down Estel's body. "Yes, I think the little human needs a lesson."

"He's never in the baths. He must be hiding something," one of the elves called.

To Estel's horror Etre slowly and agonizingly began to unbutton his shirt. He shut his eyes tightly and his struggles were renewed tenfold, ignoring the fact that his breathing was becoming harder and harder to maintain. He felt the feather light touch brush past his exposed skin and he trembled softly. Etre had gone as far as to unfasten three of his buttons when he took advantage of his victim's lack in knowledge of what he was doing and gave a tug at Estel's pants front. Estel's eyes snapped open, fear and adrenaline rushed through his veins. In reality, the elves would rather die than do such a heinous act on any living soul, but they just wanted to scare the human. They succeeded. Estel wrenched from their grasp and fled back to the palace, the elves' laughter and calls ringing in his ears.

Half blinded with tears he sped through the hallways and looked over his shoulder to check if he was being pursued. Not being able to see where he was going, he bowled right into Legolas, who was rounding the corner at the end of the corridor. With his hands still bound behind him, Estel could not do anything to stop the collision. He landed on top of the surprised prince and had to suffer the humiliation of staying in that position for a while as he had to get enough leverage to right himself once more.

"Estel are you okay? Estel what…why are you…" Legolas was befuddled by the poor boy's disheveled appearance.

Estel was at first relieved, but some of the fleeting remarks came back to sting in his ears.

Go ahead human! Run back and go crying to your prince's bed!

He instantly pushed off of Legolas hurriedly and continued to run back to his room in fury. Still pumped with adrenaline, he was able to forcibly rip his right hand free of their binds. He yanked one of the drawers violently open and grabbed a paper and pen. Fueled by his rage he started writing to his father. Legolas had run after him.

"Estel, what is wrong my friend?"

When the boy gave no answer he sighed and slowly moved forward, reaching out to where his shirt had been opened. "Here, let me help you."

Estel forcefully shoved his hand away. "Don't touch me," he said through gritted teeth, tears threatening to overcome him.

Legolas was hurt, but didn't miss his wayward emotions. Legolas suddenly saw the angrily scrawled note and snatched it away from Estel, his eyes scanning quickly across Estel's distinctive script.

Ada,

I can't suffer the shame and humiliation of being here any longer. I know I've said that I'd never give in, but I've been pushed farther then I can go. I don't care if all these elves die. Please, I need to escape. Rescue me if you can, but I'm making a break for it. I'll see you soon…

Legolas read it quickly and crumpled it in his hand, waving the enclosed fist in front of Estel's face.

"Do you know what you're doing Estel! You've promised to your father that you'd endure everything and anything for your family and your home's safety. You said that you would never be the reason for open war against the elves. I know you're tired of all this Estel. I know that everyday it has been getting harder and harder to face a new day of seemingly endless sufferance, but think of what you're saying!"

Estel's face was shocked, but then contorted to pure anger. "How long have you been reading my letters!"

Estel, blinded by his anger, punched his friend and continued to go after him. Legolas grappled with him, his back hitting against the book shelves, a few cascading down from their precarious positions. Legolas caught one of the Estel's hands as he attempted another blow and was able to get it behind of his back. Legolas didn't want to hurt Estel and forced the boy onto the bed with his face pressed into the thick sheets. Estel's panic and fear was starting to skyrocket into dangerous proportions and he was now trying to jerk out from under Legolas, ripping his shirt even further in the process.

Legolas, not knowing what the real dilemma was, started to press his body against Estel's to add extra weight and pressure. "Estel, calm down. Stay still!"

The boy stilled beneath him and Legolas let out a sigh of relief, but did not let go of Estel just in case he tried running. After several long minutes Legolas started to let his grip loosen.

"There now, I'm sorry I had to restrain you Estel, but I…" Legolas, to him at least, suddenly began to hear soft crying from the youth now lying on the bed. "Oh valar, Estel, Estel…"

Legolas heart clenched. He hadn't meant to hold him so hard. Estel's tears had been so silent, silent and without even the slightest movement. A talent perhaps gained through hard earned experience. He reached out to the boy, who flinched away at first but relaxed as Legolas began to rub soothing circles into the boy's back. They stayed like that for quite a while. Finally, Estel had either cried himself out or merely stopped of his own choice when he finally sat up, sniffling slightly, cheeks wet. He drew his torn shirt about his shoulders self-consciously. Legolas got up from the bed and selected a new one for him, making sure that it was one of the boy's home-spun ones that bore the dark colors of Imaldris. He also had the courtesy to get one without buttons. Estel nodded his thanks, but looked reluctantly at the shirt and then the prince.

Legolas frowned. After their morning practices they would normally return back to their rooms to change their clothes real quick. Legolas inferred that the sudden shyness must have stemmed somehow from this recent affair and he tried to confront the subject as delicately as he could.

"Estel," he waited for the boy's eyes to meet his own, "What did they do to you? What did they say?"

'They' was a generic statement. Legolas knew that there was those who still didn't accept the human and he did have a few ideas who 'they' may have in their midst, but wouldn't do anything unless Estel consented as well.

Estel did not answer as he changed and pulled the new shirt over his head. It was soft and familiar. Still he did not answer right away, choosing to fiddle with the rope still tied haphazardly on his left wrist. Legolas nudged aside his hand and began to untie the knots, still patiently waiting.

"They were just being stupid, just wanted to scare me. They were accusing me that I…that you had been using me for…" Estel broke off, praying that Legolas would understand enough and not ask him to finish the statement.

Legolas did understand and his stomach churned at the thought. "Estel if you want I could talk to them."

Estel shook his head. "They'd have won."

Legolas moved closer to the boy and was gladdened when he did not tense. He put a comforting arm about his shoulders.

"I apologize for the letters. I had at first been reading them on orders, but as I got to know you I wanted to stop. At first my excuse was that when things were still rough between my father and me, the letters seemed to remind me of all the missing love. I have no excuse to offer now other than I anticipate some of the odd stories you exchange with your brothers. I personally did not know that you could get Elrond and his chief advisors drunk at fall festivals and convince them that doing Sauron impressions for a bored eight year old was actually possible."

Estel laughed. "I will not hide the fact that I have been mentally scarred from that point and probably will be 'till the day I die."

Legolas joined him in his merriment. "Don't worry Estel, things will get better."

"I hope so."

-O-O-O-O-O-

Why must the valar cast him in such ill light? It was only one stupid, ugly vase! He hadn't meant to break it! He was seven and he was being chased by his brothers. Estel heart was screaming.

He had been only on his fourth patrol. There had been orcs before, but this time they were ambushed and there was three times in their number than the previous times. Prince Legolas was of course first priority, but as he had been deemed well able to defend himself for more than a few decades Estel been put under strict protection. It had started to snow a week or so ago. There was red and black blood marring its perfection, mocking its beauty. Cries of pain, mixed with the sounds of battle sliced through the silence, echoing through the trees.

There had been archers in the trees. They had been inactive for a majority of the fight, but when the tables seemed to be turning, black arrows rained down from the trees. Captain Iridor…

"Get that boy out of the room!"

Estel was struggling against four or five elves to get to the bed that currently held his Mirkwood protector. One of those restraining him was Legolas.

"Estel, there's nothing you can do!"

"Ada taught me--"

Emheril shouted above Estel. "Estel, you are skilled, but there is no one among us now who could save him thusly."

Estel shook his head violently. "No! Captain Iridor was the only one who was nice to me! It was simply courtesy, not obligation or pity. He was always patient with me even if I was slow."

Emheril put his hands on either one of his shoulders and shook him. "Estel, you once told me that your father taught you about sacrifice. You said that you understood."

"One life for another, an equivalent exchange, but that's a lie! As long as people die there is loss, there is no way to gain. The importance of one life of the other isn't fair at all. I'm going to die someday, he's immortal," he pierced the healer with a face full of hard determination, "My father may have taught me about sacrifice, but it doesn't mean I have to like it!"

Estel broke away from those holding him and ran to the bed. He gained to about two feet away from the bed when he was caught again. He struggled harder and harder until he was mere fingertips away. Then, with a last ditch effort he lunged forward and his hand brushed the cold, but still barely alive body.

Without warning there was a flash of blinding white light and all the elves were forced to shut their eyes or look away. Then, as suddenly as it came it started to dim until they could actually see Estel. It was a bizarre, but glorious sight. Upon his brow there was almost a crown of fiery light. From his heart a similar light also shown, but it was different. If his mind made piercing flames, then his heart created the purest and strongest light, like sunshine in the darkness. His hand, which was atop Iridor's own heart, the lights seemed to combine. When the beauty of it all wore off, they could see that there was something wrong.

The light would grow dim, but every time it threatened to diminish fully it would erratically brighten. Barely over a series of minutes the battle raged to huge levels. The light was starting to weaker and weaker each time it sprang again and would lose to the darkness more and more quickly. The light was dying.

Estel voice was soft and halting from his exertion. "Need more…"

Without a second thought Legolas stepped forward and put a hand on the Estel's shoulder.

The reaction was immediate. Legolas' natural glow seemed to fuse and energize from Estel. The light at Iridor's chest also strengthened. Estel blazed. Soon, the three lights engulfed its inhabitants, and onlookers lost them in the radiance. Legolas was not affected at all, in fact he felt comforted and safe.

Like a breath of a warm summer breeze, he heard a whisper and a sigh.

It is done.

The lights faded away just as Oridell pelted into the room. It was so silent that he thought the worst and somehow made it immediately to his brother's bed. His grief suddenly turned to wonderment at what he saw. His brother looked fine, his chest rising and falling at regular intervals and his expression seemed to be at peace. He shifted to get a closer look when something cracked underneath his weight. He looked down to discover four crude orc arrows scattered on the ground. He spun around to look into the bewildered faces as if asking for some answers before seeing to his brother again. He lifted the sheet and his brother's tattered shirt to see four 'rashes' near his collar bone, on his chest, and two in his stomach. They couldn't even rightly be called rashes. They looked weak enough to be made from a mild scratching in that area of skin.

He looked to the Master Healer. "What happened? I was informed my brother was dying."

"He was," Emheril answered lamely, his eyes darting to where Estel and Legolas were.

Oridell also looked to the two. Legolas was kneeling beside his unconscious friend who was sprawled in an odd position on the ground, mouth slightly open. Legolas met his eyes and he smiled and Oridell knew.

Estel stayed unconscious for several days after, but Legolas was not too worried for it was a peaceful sleep rather than a dead one. They boy rolled over in his sleep and shifted when touched, so there was no concern of him slipping into a coma. It just seemed like he was in a healing slumber full of happy dreams that he was reluctant to pull out of. It wasn't until after a week that Legolas started to get edgy.

"Is it possible that he can lose himself in his dreams?" Legolas asked fretfully.

"Legolas, he's merely recovering. He gave a lot of his strength," Emheril answered.

Legolas sighed. Emheril had probably given him the same patiently given response over seven times that day.

"But why has he been asleep so long? Although not all too common, calling back elves from death is not unheard of, but I'm surprised a human could be bestowed this gift."

Emheril shook his head, but smiled. "I've never seen a calling done in such a miraculous way before. But did you notice how fast the initial light died so fast? Making the connection itself critically drained him. His lack in experience had also shone through since it was obvious he couldn't maintain a steady flow. All the same, it was a miracle. I've never seen the wounds fully healed before."

"That's because I'm so talented," came the slow and soft sleep slurred voice of Estel.

Legolas went to coddle the poor human, while Emheril went to fetch something from the counter. He came back with an unfortunately large mug of a steaming liquid. Legolas scrunched his noise at the smell. Emheril handed Estel the cup, and gave him a look of sympathy.

"This will help your body with the missing nutrients from you lack of eating, I'm afraid it's bitter though."

"Couldn't you have put some sweetener in it!" Legolas protested.

While a huge argument interrupted between the prince and the Master Healer, Estel only gave the tea a half hearted glare before draining the cup indifferently. He wiped his mouth before handing the mug back to the open mouthed healer. Legolas' eye twitched and as if gripped by a sudden madness, started to look all around Estel's immediate area. He lifted the sheets and knocked the pillows onto the ground as if searching for something.

Giving up he leaned close to his friend's ear and whispered, "Where did you pour it? I won't tell. It's a great deception. I'm sure the twins taught it to you."

Estel chuckled and pushed his friend from him. "I drank it, Legolas."

The healer was still staring at the cup before he ripped his eyes from it to survey the bemused Estel.

"I have never seen anyone take any sort of medicine without a single complaint. You truly can work miracles Estel!"

Estel burst out into more laughter. "No miracles sir, just tolerance."

"I've seen elves stay silent when arrows have been removed from their limbs, but never anyone who did what you just accomplished. Not even well trained ones like prince Legolas!"

"Hey!"

The day was good. Estel was able to leave the healing ward soon after and the friends were able to spend the day together. They sat and had lunch and to Estel's embarrassment the High King of Mirkwood proposed a toast in his honor for his heroic deeds. He saw the two brothers, Oridell and Iridor, raise their glasses to him heartily. Estel didn't eat that much, albeit Legolas' urgings. Legolas would have thought the boy to be ravenous. It was evident now that he was starting to lose weight now.

A few days later he sat on Legolas' bed, while Legolas stood in front of the mirror fixing his perfect little braids.

"Legolas?"

"Hmm…"

"Do you think I could go and talk to your father this morning?"

Legolas looked at him, startled. "Why?"

Estel shrugged, trying to look as if it didn't really matter, but inside his heart was hammering.

"I…don't think it's a good idea Estel."

"I'm not asking that. Is he free?"

"Yes."

Legolas sighed as he watched the boy leave. He was just going to be disappointed yet again. Legolas hoped that he wouldn't have to rescue the boy from the dungeon for letting his temper run away with him.

Meanwhile Estel was standing in front of the carved doors of the king. Second thoughts and doubts began to plague his mind, but he pushed forward nonetheless. His bow was low, but he did not kneel as would most. He was a prince of his proclaimed home and, even if he did not know it, a forgotten king.

"King Thraduil?"

The king looked up from his work. "Yes?"

Estel had written a pre prepared speech for this, but it seemed to melt away and replaced with his feelings pouring directly from his tender heart.

"It's-it's been nearly a year now. Ten months and I have turned sixteen here in your halls. You have shown me kindness and hospitality and I have lived a comfortable life here, but it's nearly Winter Solstice and I just wanted--"

"No."

The answer was so abrupt that Estel could only stare blankly at the king.

"But I--"

The king sighed, perhaps truly sorry for the boy.

"I know what it is you wish to ask of me. You want to see your family. You want to be home for the holidays or have them come here. This I cannot allow."

"But why?" Estel whispered brokenly.

"Such is your burden."

Estel's anger flared. "I have bore my burden well even though it has been tested to its utmost limits more than a hundred times over! Have I not yet proven to you that I am trustworthy? Have I not submitted myself to all your rules and been compliant to all your rulings?"

The king opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by Estel. It was rude and it was a high offense, but Estel didn't care that much about future consequences.

"It surely was not you who convinced the Great Galadriel of Lothlorien to give the son of the one keeping me prisoner one of their infamous bows! Who was able to stay her indignation? Who was it that granted you this bow to present to your son as if a gift from his father? Who was it who wrote down and told you what lines you should say to your son? It was I who salvaged what was left of your relationship with your beloved son!"

Thraduil was standing, his aura clashing with that of Estel's. Their anger matching and boiling into an ever darkening storm.

"You cross dangerous grounds human! You know nothing of what you speak."

"But I do! You forget that I am a son too! Ada will always make time for me. Do you ever spend time with your son? Do you still have tickle fights before you tuck him into bed? Do you still sneak into his room in the middle of the night to watch him sleep? Do you ever tell him those stupid little reminders to eat his greens or wash behind his ears? When he's sad or angry do you ever persist him about it until he tells you and pat him on the head and tell him that everything is going to be okay or allow him to cry on your shoulder? My father knows everything about me. What do you know of your son? Do you know his favorite color? Do you know which she-elves he's interested in? His favorite clothes preference or-or his favorite food. You wouldn't even have given his conception day a second thought if I had not already set it for you!"

Thranduil slapped the boy across the cheek for good measure. "Do not be as foolish as to compare me to your own father. Your father is weak. I could do any of these things for him!"

"But you don't! You can't suck up your pride and allow your grief over your wife as an excuse not to know your son. When was the last time you asked for help? You say my father is weak? You've taken me because you know that if for whatever reason the elves went to war, you'd lose. You know that Lothlorien would always side with my father. You were afraid, so you struck at my father through me. You're a coward!"

With a roar of rage Thranduil grabbed the youth's shirt front and slammed him against the wall. Stars burst into his vision, but it didn't block the view of Thranduil's face, of his eyes. Tears were falling down the king's face. Estel tried to break away from the iron grasp. He felt himself being dragged to a door to the left, which Thranduil opened to reveal a dark and enclosed closet. Thranduil literally threw him inside, Estel's head connecting with a peg meant to hang varying clothes upon. The last thing he saw was the door closing and the lights going out. Silvery tears splashing on the floor…click.

Enfin watched as Thraduil stormed off in the opposite direction, exiting on the other side of the hall. Enfin smiled and strolled into his king's study, spotting what made the smile widen. On Thranduil's desk was a solitary, shining silver key. Enfin grabbed it and looked up at the huge portrait of the late Queen of Mirkwood. It was life-like in every way. When you looked hard enough you could see her hair fluttering in the wind and leaves fall past her porcelain face. Below her portarait lay a small shrine. It held the necklace given to her by Thraduil from their engagement, her wedding ring, and an urn that held her ashes. Giving a bow he went over and slipped the key under the lid. He could here the muffled sounds of stirring coming from behind the closet door. The human wasn't going anywhere.

"Mama?"

"Yes darling?"

"When is papa coming back?"

"Soon."

A childish giggle. "You always say that."

A woman with light brown hair scooped up her dark haired son. "That's because it's true."

It was getting dark.

When the cold of winter comes
Starless night will cover day
In the veiling of the sun
We will walk in bitter rain

Estel had awakened to dreams, his face pressed against the wall, his eyes closed. It wasn't so dark that way. He could see him. He was tall and lean. His face was sharp, but kingly. His hair was dark and wavy just like his own. His eyes lit up when he saw his beautiful wife, his young son. His wife was young and beautiful, but strong. She had piercing hazel eyes and a fiery spirit that melted away in heartfelt laughs. His eyes were hers.

Estel felt tears run down his cheeks. Why was he always crying? He thought he put all that behind him. Then again, he thought that he'd never see them again.

"Nana…Ada…"

But in dreams
I can hear your name
And in dreams
We will meet again

The village was burning. The village hidden in the leaves, lost in the mist, protected by shadowed heroes of forgotten royalty…was found.

"To the house, stay hidden. He needs to live," even then, in the midst of chaos and battle, his voice held every ounce of love that he had for his family. "I love you."

A kiss and a smile.

"A good bye is not needed between those who will meet again so soon," was the women's reply, said in the voice familiarized with stories and songs.

They ran but not fast enough not to see him fall. An arrow and a sword. His little boy ran back as the ever loyal wife slew his killer as a last favor. The boy's hands and clothes are stained with his father's blood. A bloodied hand strokes his cheek, leaving its crimson mark there as well.

Slender hands grab the boy and rush to a building already half engulfed in flame. In the corner of a bedroom the floor opens. The boy is pushed in and shushed, his mother kissing him upon the brow. The door is locked. The mother waits in the house that she and her husband made together. It is burning, but still they come. A little boy peeks through the crack in the door. A cry of defiance turns to pain…

Legolas didn't hesitate at the door and barged into his father's room. There was pounding coming from the closet door and he understood. He ran to the door, trying to wrench the handle to open. He can hear Estel's desperate pleading in between his sobs. He screams deliriously. Legolas yells for him to hold on. Legolas went to his father's desk and nearly broke all the drawers in order to find the key. He can hear the struggles growing louder.

The little boy feels warm liquid slide across his face and into his hair. It is not tears this time. His mother's blood had pooled upon the ground and was seeping through the secret door. Little crimson droplets rained down on her little boy. He will not scream like he wants to. She told him to be quiet. He scoots back trying to escape the sickly fluids. The secret door leads to a kind of basement. There is stairs behind him. He slips on the bloodied floor and is falling through the darkness.

For Estel the memory ends, but the nightmare continues. He can see that door, he can hear Legolas' voice. Estel was hyperventilating. He needed to be quiet. Blood is seeping through the crack between door and floor and he holds back his horror as he scrambles away. He needed to stay silent. His breathing grew heavier and the walls closed in. His lungs contracted painfully and his wind pipe was starting to close and choke him.

Legolas' panic was spiking now. He could hear nothing of Estel other than his rapid breathing. He spun about the room. He needed a clue! His mother's face erupted in his vision. He remembered her serene smile. She beckoned him. He needed no apology.

Legolas snatched the urn and with barely a moment's hesitation he plunged his hand into his mother's sole remains. The fine powder was soft, like the touch of her skin. He felt the jagged metal amidst the ashes. Smiling his thanks he returned to the door to unlocked it.

The secret door opens and light floods down the hiding place. There is no house around it anymore. A little boy's eyes open to the blinding glow. With the light came two identical faces…

When the seas and mountains fall
And we come, to end of days
In the dark I hear a call
Calling me there,
I will go there
And back again

Legolas had ripped the door open and the lights streaming into the little closet illuminated the pale face of Estel, huddled in the corner, eyes wide and breathing jagged. Legolas didn't know what to do. Estel's pulse was irratic and his eyes were glazing over from the lack of oxygen reaching his brain.

"You need to calm down Estel. You need to breathe slowly."

Legolas put his palm against the boy's face to get his attention, but he was too far gone. Legolas looked around as if looking for someone or some kind of sign that would tell him what to do. Legolas didn't allow himself to succumb to his panic and tried to think of something. If Estel wouldn't be able to breathe on his own Legolas would have to help him. He bent forward and breathed into the human's mouth, repeating this several times. It didn't work. What little air that Estel was dragging into his lungs wasn't going to last for long. Legolas searched his memories frantically. Once, when he was younger, a majority of his friends had dog-piled on him. He remembered that he was able to gasp for breath but each time his chest compressed further and further. All the air was being squeezed out of his lungs. Is that what Estel was feeling?

Legolas placed both his palms on Estel's chest and pushed. He pushed harder and harder, adding more and more pressure until Estel's feeble struggles almost died, then he released. Reflexively Estel's chest rose and air was forcibly sucked into his starved lungs. Legolas jumped in triumph and continued to do this process, having to make the boy's stubborn body relearn how to breathe again. Soon Estel's breathing returned back to normal, albeit a little hitched. Legolas sunk to his knees beside the couch in relief. Estel soon fell back to sleep from his exertions.

Legolas' hands were shaking. What if he had lost Estel? Estel was one of the few people to make him smile the way he liked to. To smile without reason and to be happy and not need to explain himself. Legolas gently lifted the boy in his arms and went to carry him to his room. At the door he passed by his father. He stopped and let his father look upon his face to see the emotions reflected there. Legolas saw that he had remorse, but Legolas knew that it wasn't for the human.

Legolas laid Estel into his bed and pulled the covers over him. He knew that there was no way things were going to get any better now.

-O-O-O-O-O-

Estel was up on his feet after a few days. He no longer went to breakfast, opting to stay in his bed and just lie there or read. Today, however, he decided to resume his "life". He walked unenthusiastically to Oridell's classroom. He was late, but he did not make an effort to go faster. Upon entering the room he noticed that all became silent and all eyes were now on him. It did not look like a normal lessons setting. Most of the elves were sitting casually or leaning on their desks in groups with their friends. Estel looked to Master Oridell and was met with sadness.

"Master Oridell, what is going on?"

Master Oridell walked closer to him, so as to keep what little privacy they could, keeping his voice low.

"I'm truly sorry Estel, but I must ask you to leave my class."

The last of the gleam that used to fill Estel's eyes seemed to die right there. The silver dissipated and only the stormy grayness lingered. Someone else had turned their back on him. Another loss to his heart, but he felt oddly indifferent towards it.

"I am to know why?"

Oridell looked around at the expectant faces around him.

"My students refuse to study further with you. They argue that you are a distraction to them. Under any other circumstance I would not have yielded to repay my debt to you, but my highest priority is to teach."

"Where am I supposed to go then?"

"Go and work in the kitchens where you belong," one of the elves whispered harshly.

Oridell turned on him furiously. "Silence, you need not degrade him further when he has not done anything remotely close to warrant it."

Oridell escorted Estel to the door, stopping at its frame. He looked upon the boy's face and was saddened. Why was this boy simply made to suffer grievance after grievance? What reason did Estel have to keep forcing himself up again just to be knocked back down? Oridell did not know.

"Estel, you clearly did not need my teachings. You did not need to endure so much that you have through being in my lessons."

Estel shook his head. "No, I really needed them more than you probably think."

Estel walked away.

His mind seemed to get foggier and before he knew where he was he was standing outside the kitchen door in the dining hall. He was compelled to keep going and since it was after lunch, the normal chaos had died down. Mereth was drinking some wine in the corner. Estel made his way to him and opened his mouth but no sound came out. It was if he suddenly came to himself. That feeling was dissipating though and he started to slip back into his foggy, thought scattered mind.

He cleared his throat and began again. "Sir, I was wondering if you had some kind of job for me here in the kitchens around this hour of the day."

Mereth looked at him oddly. "Estel, you are no servant."

"Well that is all I seem to be deemed fit for, so I shall comply. Do you have an opening?"

"Only as a dish washer, but--"

Estel did not wait for him to finish and began to make his way to the sink and start his duty. While he washed and cleaned robotically, his mind drifted in and out of his haze of thoughts. Why was he down here washing dishes like those elves had told him to? Why did he even wake up this morning? Why did he even think that perhaps today would be better? What was he doing all this for?

Estel racked his brain. Legolas' concerned face bent over his bed popped into his mind eye. Yes, he was doing this for Legolas. Estel was now sure that their friendship was strong. They had been through so much together. Estel knew that Legolas had become seriously worried about him after the incident with Thranduil. Estel had withdrawn and still was, but he was making an effort to make things as they were before. He did this only for Legolas. No, that was not true.

Estel knew why his eyes had dulled and his thoughts blunted. He could no longer bear to wear his heart so openly now. He buried it deep inside himself. It made him indifferent and apatheic, but most of all it helped him forget his hopes and dreams. Hope is merely a denial of reality. If you don't get your hopes up, then you won't be hurt so much after the fall. He could not get rid of it so easily though, such is the curse of his spirit. Deep inside Estel still believed that there was still a chance that he'd return home. That chance, however slim it was, was a large part of why he convinced himself to attempt to live again.

Estel came to himself again to discover an elf by his side, taking the dishes he had washed and drying them to then placing the dishes on a rack. Estel was astonished at how young the elf was. He was probably the youngest he had ever seen, his maturity probably matching his own. In Rivendell, apart from himself, Arwen was the last child to reside there.

"Mae govannen, I'm sorry I did not notice you sooner. What is your name?"

The elf looked at him in surprise, like he wasn't expecting to be given a warm greeting.

"It's Dinaer."

Estel gave him a quizzical look. "'Silent one'?"

A nod.

"Well, perhaps elves have finally come to the pinnacle of naming. Or maybe they're just out of practice. Look at me; I've been stuck with 'hope'."

It was the elf's turn to look questionably at Estel.

"Yeah, that was a joke."

The elf's puzzled look continued.

Estel sighed. He supposed that elves were not actually losing their naming abilities at all. 'Silent One' was certainly accurate. Wanting to have a conversation, but knowing that there would be none from his companion, Estel started randomly talking about anything that came to the top of his head; nothing that necessarily needed an answer, but still invited the other to join. Although Dinaer did not say a thing, Estel knew that he was enjoying the soft flow of talk. When their task was done and Dinaer took his leave Estel approached Mereth about the odd young elf.

"Yes, he was the last elfling born here in Mirkwood. He is the youngest son of his seven older brothers and eldest sister…or was anyway. All of his brothers have died in battle one by one and his sister left for the Grey Havens. His last brother had died along with his sister's fiancé when he was still a young elfling. His mother and father were devastated from the loss. When he started his warrior's training his mother nearly sailed. She couldn't bear to lose another son. To save his mother he pulled out of his training and promised not to go to battle. His father was furious. He wanted his son to avenge his brothers and take their places, but Dinaer stayed firm. Trying to dissuade him, his father threatened all the healers or scholars or even servants to not give his son apprenticeship and Dinaer was going through some rough times, so I took him in. He helps here in the kitchens."

Estel nodded thoughtfully. "Who is his father?"

Mereth's eyes darkened as he answered. "Enfin."

-O-O-O-O-O-

Legolas was totally unaware that Estel had been taken out of Ordell's classes. Estel made the effort to run up to the same meeting spot every day. Legolas was extremely glad that Estel had chosen to get back up on his feet. Although he wasn't surprised that he did not participate in the Winter Solstice celebrations. He was however shocked to find Estel sitting on his bed trying to open a bottle of wine…

Legolas snatched the bottle away quicker than lightening and pierced Estel with a disapproving glare.

"Estel I don't believe your father would be very pleased to know you've been drinking. If I last recalled when I was threatening you about responsibilities you were able to wriggle out with the fact you were 'underage'."

Estel's pout was evident. "Just wanted a taste."

"I bet you don't want the ginormous head ache that comes with it though."

The two friends laughed, but Legolas was secretly relieved that the boy was not trying to drink away his problems.

Estel, guessing his friend's thoughts, nudged him slightly. "I really wasn't trying to get drunk you know. Besides, if I really wanted to inflict harm upon myself I could have easily made a poison or helped myself to the numerous weapons I have in this room."

Legolas punched him on the shoulder.

"Don't joke around about stuff like that Estel," Legolas looked into his eyes to let him see the sincerity, "What happened to that almost overconfident, sure-footed, pushy human I first met?"

Estel looked away, staring at the ground. "He's just a little lost."

-O-O-O-

Estel steeled himself for the run. He could do this. Leaving his fears and doubts behind him he sped across the branch, trying to ignore the way it dipped lower as he got further along. Just a bit more and he would jump to the next one. Speed was everything here. If he was interrupted…

"Human!"

Estel's momentum was halted for but a second, but that moment of hesitation was all that it took to send him crashing back to the ground. He landed half on his left shoulder and it sent him in a whirlwind of pain. Not surprisingly it was Etre who stood above him.

"You would have never made that jump."

Estel got up gingerly, trying to ignore the aching in his shoulder. "I thank you for the support."

"Well, then perhaps you will duel me?" Apres challenged, stepping into the clearing.

Estel looked slightly confused, hoping that the fall had addled his brains a little. "Wait, how did the conversation go from trees to swords?"

His sword was dropped on his lap.

Apres drew his own and took a few paces from him. "Fight me."

A million thoughts zoomed through his head. Should he do this? More importantly, could he? Apres was fast, but had weaknesses. Estel forcibly halted his thoughts. No, he had to refuse. This was stupid. They were just goading him. This was a trick of some sort.

He felt the steel edge of his would be opponent's blade under his chin.

Estel unsheathed his sword and faced his opponent. Oh well…

They saluted each other with their swords, bowed, straightened and delivered an old elvish phrase for good luck as custom. Both starred each other down before raising their swords into ready positions. Apres went on the defensive, Estel offensive. The battle began.

Estel launched his attack. He knew that if he took the defensive there was less chance he would be able to gain the advantage. He needed to strike hard and fast while he was still fresh. Apres was surprised at how hard the boy could fight, not realizing how much he reserved during practice, but he was a seasoned warrior and adapted to his style quickly. Estel favored his right side since his left was still aching, so Apres pressed his advantage and made each of his strikes come to the right harder and harder each time.

Estel gritted his teeth as he blocked another blow from his left, feeling the vibrations seemingly travel down his arm and to his shoulders and chest to leave his arm weaker and weaker each time. He searched for a strategy. Thinking quickly he slammed his sword down with all the momentum of a full swing. It was easy to see his intensions and Apres braced himself for the high block and the force of the strike. Their blades met, but only briefly for Estel suddenly transferred the weight and force and tilted his blade so it slid along his opponent's edge. Apres became off balance from the surprise stratagem and Estel took the advantage for a slash across the elf's abdomen.

The cut hardly stained the elf's clothes. Apres doubled his attacks and became a lot more wary of Estel. The dance continued. Weaving in and out of each other's move sequences. Estel was hardly able to sneak another one of his tricks in with Apres on high alert. Estel's shoulder was now starting to burn unmercifully and was now resorting to more of a one handed sword battle. He only brought both hands to his hilt was when it was absolutely necessary. Apres saw this divulged his opponents weakness.

Apres had a quick attack on Estel's right, which was dodged, but then gave a heavy sweep to his knees on his left. Estel had no other choice than to low block with the blade facing downwards. It was hard enough to maintain a block like that normally, but coupled with his bad side Estel's blade flew out of his hand and onto the ground. Apres' sword came down upon him and he jumped out of the way. Estel then realized that this wasn't just a test of skills, it was a real fight. To avoid Apres' attacks Estel had to move farther away from his fallen weapon. He needed to gain ground.

There was a tree to his right. It was half bent, gnarled and forced to bow by some storm of wind long ago. It was almost like a ramp. Ramps go up. Estel raced to it, almost as if to flee and Apres wasn't as quick to follow. He ran up the slanted trunk and when he knew he gained the last lift before gravity would pull him down again, he let some of his downward fall give him a bit of momentum before pushing off the tree. Just as his feet left the trunk, he flicked his wrist and felt the small blade press into his hand. Thrown with deadly accuracy the blade flew through the air faster than an arrow. It buried into Apres' sword hand. He dropped his sword in pain and clutch at his hand, rivulets of blood running down his palm.

Estel ran to his fallen sword when he felt cold on one of his legs. It seemed to spread past his skin and into his very blood. It suddenly went numb and Estel collapsed under his unresponsive leg. Estel ignored the bizarre happening as he reached for his sword, its hilt still warm and remembering its master. He tried dragging himself up and managed to hobble up on one leg. Shadows in the trees. Other elves were above him. He saw them carrying buckets of water and understanding dawned on Estel.

Legolas had brought him on a hunt and he saw the enchanted river.

"That water is dangerous Estel. Magic flows through it. Its victims fall into a spell of dark dreams."

He spun around too fast, watching one of the elves' movements and fell back onto the floor. His sword was kicked away and Apres' angry face came into view, a bucket in his hand.

"Sweet dreams Estel."

Estel barely felt the wetness of water on his face and hair cascading down upon him when his mind suddenly went blank and darkness overtook his eyes.