A/N: Taste the rainbow. Eat crayons.

It was a deadly night, thus far. A blazing wind, in which stretched upon the valleys and steep hills of the forest, drifted into the tent by the tent flap. Although the prince was still in quite a state of either fright or illness (or possibly both) he felt this horrid swiftness and snuggled closer to the blankets. They were all stained in a dark and horrid reminder of the impasse. It smelled of a certain thickness and wielded the scent of blood.

Legolas strained to regain consciousness in hopes that his kinsman would see and surely give both hope to himself and his comrades. His eyes opened weakly, revealing that it was a dark and sluggish night. However, it was fresh unlike the tent.

The prince managed to moan something. Nordir was nowhere to be found. Legolas attempted to chatter and cry for someone to aid him. Distant sounds came from his lips, escaping only when he conserved such energy to do so. Nonetheless, he was alive.

"Prince! The Prince has awakened!" Nordir raced into the tent and to his utter awe, Legolas could sit up. He touched his forehead gently and called for The Fallaner to come, and quickly. And he did come, rapidly and with much hope. Each stride was swifter than the last, revealing the healer's blissful attitude. I had saved the prince! It was I who cared for him this long night and my deed has finally been requited!

A bit arrogantly, the healer thought his self. However, it may, indeed, be true that it was he who saved the heir. The Fallaner stepped inside the pavilion, uneasiness about his step now. His eyes were fixed on Legolas, watching his eyes blink hastily and lips press together wearily, "Child, O Elbereth! He is awake, and well!"

"I would not say things as such so quickly-" An elf carefully said. However, with a brisk change in voice, the healer interrupted, "Shush!" The Fallaner spoke quietly with Nordir, discussing plans for Legolas and preparations for war.

The prince lay awake, hushed gently by the coming elf soldiers, all bearing quivers full of arrows. He thought about many things and quarreled amongst them, demanding he be left alone. Legolas was indeed well again. A brilliant moon shone through the tent opening.

"I know that you are still quite faint, Lord, but Nordir has many things he requests to inform you of," The Fallaner kissed Legolas's brow weakly and turned from the tent so the leader could come in. He stood with a stern twinkle upon his face and a strong determination.

The prince steadied himself on the bed, which now smelled of old blood and a dull odor. He wished not to be bothered with war talk, however, he put his kingdom before his own sanity, "Lord, I have vital news to request you of my listening."

"Do, Nordic, inform me. Is it concerning the orc raids?" Nordic pressed his lips together curtly and said: "It is of that and much more."

"A night ago, a messenger of Elrond spoke to me of many things. It was not Glorfindel for he would not send his dearest friend on these haunted roads now. And he spoke to me of many things. Do not ask many questions, Lord, as I was only informed. Thranduil and the Lesser King of Marshlond, a bog-like land south of Mirkwood, has offered your father, and kingdom an offer.

"Because of the trade routes, taken, obviously, by those horrid orcs, trade carts and caravans have not been able to sent exports to neighboring kingdoms, nor bring anything in. We are at a loss, prince, for we have no metal from the dwarves to make our chain mail. And we have no mithril from Rivendell to protect or soldiers. Many foods have also been sacrificed because of the roads." Legolas cried: "Please do not bother me with such things! I am ill as it is, friend!"

Nordic grew angry, "You are the Prince of Mirkwood, Lord, and you must always hold your silence in the matter of your father, no matter what rank you are. Nothing is higher than your own kin!" The prince took this as an immediate whipping, mentally only, of course. He was punished and he did, indeed, learn to hold his silence in the presence of his father's word. And he, too, learned that the kingdom came before his own welfare. All in the making of a King.

"Now, in the matter of trade. If an alliance can be made with the Lesser King of Marshlond, Urendor, then we may go through the unblocked roads into their kingdom and forge a new trade route. If this alliance does not succeed, we will have little armor and food." Nordir continued.

"He has proposed that his daughter, Amathien, joins you in marriage, as an alliance. It will do good for both yourself and Mirkwood, my lord," Legolas's mind was stranded in an empty pool of blackness and confusion. He longed for a wife, yet, so soon? The prince was still very young, and being elves were immortal, he had many years to live without a spouse.

Nordic paused and looked at the sorrowful elf, who was both bewildered and in awe, "I know this burden is heavy for you, prince, yet it will promote trade to Mirkwood. I have heard many things of the Mistress Amathien. She is obedient, and very pretty as well." He commented. Pretty? What should I care if the Lady is pretty? Legolas thought harshly, without even a slight open mind. However, it is best for my kingdom. And I am their heir; I must do as bid.

He calmly sipped the healing tea The Fallaner had blended. Nordir carefully laid his hand upon the prince's shoulder and awaited a fury of curses and insults. Nothing occurred for a reasonable amount of time, and the leader found this very pleasing.

Legolas switched positions and fell against the soft pillow, woven in silk and stuffed with bird feathers. He felt uneasily bound and curious, surprisingly. The elf felt the same cold, and quite chilling, breeze flutter into the room, permitted by the open flaps.

"We will ride to your father's castle in two nights, Lord. You shall most likely be rested in the time sanctioned," With that, Nordir, fair and noble, cast himself into the open fortress. The walls were fortified, some with strong wood, other with lasting stone. There were two sentry towers, both at the entrance.

The prince, thereupon, let his thoughts drift into a listless pool of oblivion, as he knew nothing more until the sweet smell of morning awoke him.

~*~

For the two days that Legolas lay in care of The Fallaner, the camp was quite. No news of such things as war or trade routes had been told or discussed. Everything within those days seemed like a broad stretch of blah and idle moments for the prince. He occasionally strayed from the tent, both Fallaner and Nordir watching very carefully. The elf did not remember much, only that he was wounded and at his father's fortress. Everything else seemed rather raw and forgetful.

On the morning that the prince was to ride forth to the castle at Mirkwood, an early mist came about near dawn. It reflected off the nearby stream and nestled loosely within the closed forest mosses and plants.

It was the aroma of fresh cinnamon that awoke Legolas. Indeed, it was a strange scent to hover over a battle fortress! However, it was there and for some odd reason, the elf smelt it thoroughly. Legolas rose from the comfortable, yet old and malodorous, bed and sniffed the air. Cinnamon. The scent wavered about his bed, and instead of smelling rotting blood, he smelled cinnamon!

After he had bathed and dressed himself, the elves-at-arm took full account of the prince. Nordir had wished them all a fair good-bye and when the pink still touched the blue sky, the party left for the castle.

It was a tedious journey for Legolas. He remembered very little, and even had trouble staying upon his stallion. The elves around him, all clad in the remaining armor, looked stern. Two of the ten were carrying the prince's banner. It was a golden flag, embroidered with purple lining. The symbol was depicting (the) Tel'Quessir.

And certainly, it was a lonely trip for the elf. That was the worse fate he would face along the tiresome ride home. He felt dependant and cold, even when the humidity sank into the lower part of the forest. A faint ballad of some unknown song played throughout the elf's mind. It was actually very soothing.

His mind blackened as he saw the castle. Legolas pondered on his many thoughts from the journey. I dare say, what a dreary place this has gotten. The prince randomly thought. His stallion stepped with a light foot, imprinting the fragile mark upon the mossy ground.

As the gates were pulled open, the stalwart aria of the trumpets filled the air. Legolas smiled, faintly, and continued on his horse. The lights he could see from the slits in the castle were always lit. It welcomed him less than the trumpets and calling of his name however.

The nobles that were walking upon the courtyard of the castle waved and greeted him merrily, as if the forest and tiding of war meant nothing. Despite the reason, Legolas knew they were real and even as the aloof elf he was, he was dearly frightened.

His escorts followed him until the king's men were signaling at the entrance. Legolas proceeded foreword, dampness of the forest clenching his every breath. It was then he thought of Glaradith and Radais. I do indeed wonder what they are up to. Glaradith is probably up to that foul sorcery again. He smiled curtly, and rather sardonically.

"Welcome Lord! Please, the escorts will take your stallion to the regal stables north of here. Will not you follow us into the castle? King Thranduil has bid us to fetch you the moment you arriving in the courtyard," An elf said. He was wearing impressive robes, which suggested he was among the king's favorites. Legolas followed him, weakly, through the corridors of the sublime haven. His every step held sluggishness; however, he made sure he did not show it.

As soon as the royal guards presented him to Thranduil, a thick warmth opened up. He was not in the murky, cold and distant forests- or in an accursed cottage, but at home. And he liked it.

The king stepped foreword, adorned in high robes and jewels of the dwarves, "Son! I thought of you as a victim of the raids. O praise Manwe for this honor!" He did not make a step, once more, but instead raised his arms slightly as if he was dearly surprised.

"Indeed, father. I shall tell you about my travels later, however, please tell me why you bid your guards to fetch me immediately. My feet grow weary, despite my light step, and my heart grows heavy because of the cognizance on war." Legolas found a comfortable chair to rest in, and could see the fires in the courtyard burning brilliantly, for in Mirkwood, light is vital.

Night came darkly, or perhaps it was just the gloominess of the forest, no one could tell. Legolas had strayed not. He secluded himself to staying within his father's study, collecting his thoughts as Thranduil explained more.

By early twilight, the intuition of the orc raids and their relevance to Sauron's new threat were explained, as were many other things. However, Legolas concentrated and reflected most on the alliance with Urendor, Lesser King of Marshlond, and the new caveat of orc regions to the south.

King Thranduil spoke harshly, "I am sorry, my son, however the lady of Marshlond is arriving tomorrow. To my benefit, I shall hold off any ceremony until we get word from Elrond on the orc raids to the south. If they do attack, soon and we find someway to slay them- I suppose there will be no use for a uniting, however.."

His words were grave. Legolas knew now that it was not a faint dream, filled with many happenings of such he could not remember, but a true reality. And it frightened him in a distant way he could only explain in a use of colours revolving in his head.

They prattled, importantly, for another few hours. However, Legolas got quite weary and the King bid him a good sleep. Tomorrow he would receive word of war and meet the pawn in an alliance and truthfully, he was both disappointed and anxious.

It's only a click away! Constructive criticisms is greatly appreciated!