My stories sometimes track Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.

I haven't replied to all my reviewers yet, but I'd like to acknowledge the following reviewers of Episode 3: JastaElf, vectis, Elfinabottle, Dragonsofliberty, Lady Ambreanna, Foxgurl0000, and CAH. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.

This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.

Beta Reader: Dragonfly is the beta reader for Parallel Quest, but shorter pieces are posted without a reader. If you catch any errors, please let me know.

Vocabulary

Edenidhrin—New Year (Sindarin)

Tawarmaenas—Wood Craft (Sindarin)

Tuí (Tuiw)—Sprout, Bud (Sindarin)

Episode 4: The Never-Ending Story

'Will these diplomats never cease making speeches?' Legolas thought glumly. Since returning to Mirkwood, he had had to sit through far too many of these interminable banquets. He picked up his goblet and lifted it to his mouth to disguise a yawn. By his side, his cousin Tawarmaenas grinned. "You should have been here the year your father hosted a delegation of Dwarves," he whispered. "Their stature may be short, but their speeches are long!"

'Dwarves!' Legolas said to himself. 'How could my father bear their presence in the Hall? I know he once threw a party of Dwarves in the dungeon—but to actually host a band!'

Tawarmaenas divined his thoughts. "Your father had no choice," he whispered. "They bore a letter from Elrond. Otherwise he would never have admitted them."

Legolas crinkled up his nose in a most unelvenly manner. He could never understand why Elrond permitted Dwarves to sully the environs of Imladris. Mithrandir, too, was unaccountably friendly toward the Naugrim. Well, perhaps not entirely unaccountably. The wizard and the Dwarves did have in common a fondness for pipe weed. Mayhap that explained why Mithrandir took pleasure in their company.

"Legolas," Thranduil interrupted his son's thoughts. "Our guests would like to hear how matters stand in the west. You have lately received letters from Elrond's sons, I believe."

"Yes, Adar," Legolas said, immediately assuming a serious expression. "Elladan and Elrohir have been patrolling the foothills of the Misty Mountains. They report that there have been no signs of our enemies for several months. This troubles them."

"Troubles them?" laughed one of the visitors, a Man from Lake-town come to the Great Hall to negotiate a trade agreement. "Why should the lack of trouble be troubling?"

"Our foes may be regrouping," Legolas replied, keeping his face impassive so as not to betray his impatience with the foolish Man. "Elrohir and Elladan are concerned because they lack clues as to our enemies' intentions."

The Man shrugged. "We at least have nothing to fear. Esgaroth has been at peace for many a year."

"What of dragons?" Tawarmaenas asked. "Do you not fear that someday a dragon like Smaug will swoop down upon your land?"

The Man laughed. "Only once did Smaug venture to attack Lake-town—and that was on account of some meddling Dwarves. Anyway, he's dead now, and no other dragon has been seen in these parts for many a year."

Legolas hid his astonishment. Were Men really so naïve as to believe that any situation would remain unchanged? It must be a result of their short lives, he decided. They did not remain in Middle-earth long enough to appreciate the reversals of fortunes, the turns of the wheel that plunged one people into the mire while lifting others far above it.

Thranduil again interrupted his son's thoughts by lifting his goblet and proposing a toast to his guests, each of whom reciprocated. Tawarmaenas looked a little tipsy after the sixth toast, but Legolas was unfazed by the strong wine. For decades he had been matching Elrohir cup for cup, so it would take more than the wine drunk in an evening of toasts to befuddle his senses.

"Tawarmaenas," he whispered, "for each toast, take only a little sip."

His cousin nodded, but he had a silly grin on his face. At the next toast, the younger Elf hoisted his goblet and drained it. Legolas caught the eye of Gilglîr, his father's seneschal. He gestured with his head toward his cousin. Gilglîr followed his gesture and nodded. Unobtrusively, the seneschal arose and made his way to Tawarmaenas's seat. He spoke softly in the young Elf's ear. Tawarmaenas giggled a little, but he nodded and allowed Gilglîr to help him to his feet. The two Elves left the room quietly, but Legolas was amused to see that Tawarmaenas walked a little unsteadily. 'My cousin has led a sheltered life in comparison to my own', he thought to himself, smiling. 'When Elrohir and Elladan next visit, we shall have to remedy the omissions in my cousin's education. Perhaps the Lady will agree to permit Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin to journey hence as well. Then we shall be able to thoroughly train Tawarmaenas in how to carouse properly'.

After several more toasts, the banquet at last concluded. Legolas managed to suppress his sigh of relief and politely took his leave of his father's visitors. Then he hurried to his room and pulled off the hated diadem. He had almost made it into the dining hall without one, but Edwen Nana, silver circlet in hand, had ambushed him in the corridor. Legolas smiled at the memory. Edwen Nana somehow always seemed to be able to produce one of the wretched objects. No matter how many circlets Legolas 'lost' or misplaced, the elleth would pull one from beneath the folds of her robe. Sometimes Legolas wondered whether his old nursemaid had an enchanted chest in her chamber, one filled with diadems whose number would never diminish no matter how many circlets were removed from the box.

After pulling off his diadem and changing into less formal garb, Legolas decided to check on his cousin, whose room was nearby. When he arrived, he found a housemaid changing the linen on his cousin's bed. "The young master had a sour stomach," the servant said diplomatically.

"Where is he?" asked Legolas, a little worried.

"He thought a turn in the fresh air would do him good."

Legolas returned to his room and belted on a knife, one of a pair presented him by Elladan and Elrohir. He began to leave the chamber but then went back and strapped on his quiver and picked up his bow. His thoughts at the banquet came back to him. No trace of enemies had been found this close to the Great Hall in recent days, but one never knew when a foe might evade the sentries and draw near.

The door warden was surprised when he saw Legolas approach. "My Lord, it is very late to be venturing forth."

"My cousin is without. Did you know that?"

"No, my Lord. I only came on duty just now, and my predecessor did not mention it."

Legolas made a note to mention the omission to Gilglîr. The Prince knew that a young Elf had recently drawn duty as door warden. Doubtless it was necessary that the duties of the position be more fully explained to the youngster.

"If I have not returned by the ringing of the midnight bell," Legolas said to the guard, "send word to my father."

"Yes, my Lord," said the door warden, who was now standing very straight even for an Elf.

Legolas stepped forth into a world bright with moonlight and began to follow Tawarmaenas's trail. It was easy to trace, for his cousin was not moving with the usual grace of an Elf. The trail meandered about, moving ever further from the Hall, but not in a straight line.

Suddenly Legolas froze and his hand went to his knife. He heard hissing and rustling. "Ungol," Legolas said softly. Spider.

The Elf stood listening for several minutes. Then he tested his bow string before moving in the direction of the sound. From the noise he had concluded that there were in fact several spiders in the forest.

He came to a patch of torn spider web. In it were a few strands of golden hair. He winced, thinking of the time he had left some of his hair behind in a spider web. Yet he also grew hopeful. He had torn free of the sticky silk, and judging from the state of this web, so too had Tawarmaenas.

Legolas quickened his steps, eager to come to the aid of his cousin, for he was now certain that Tawarmaenas was being pursued by the spiders. 'I'll warrant he is sober now', he thought wryly.

The noise of the spiders was very loud now, and Legolas was careful to keep to the shadows. He crept up to a small clearing in the woods, and peering out from cover, he saw a number of spiders clustered around the base of a tree. Looking up, Legolas saw his cousin perched as far out on a limb as he dared. A spider had crawled up after him but was afraid to venture on the branch for fear that it would break under its weight. Instead, it was rattling the limb with its front legs, hoping that Tawarmaenas would be dislodged and fall into the maws of the spiders waiting beneath.

Silently, Legolas fitted an arrow to his bow. His first target was of course the spider most immediately menacing his cousin. The Elf aimed for the vulnerable pedicel that joined the spider's cephalothorax to its abdomen. His shot severed the nerve connecting the spider's head to its body. Mortally wounded, the creature plummeted into the midst of its fellows below.

In the chaos that ensued, Legolas rapidly brought down five more spiders before they divined the direction from which the Elf was shooting. Then they swarmed toward him, hissing and clacking their pedipalps, but Legolas swiftly ascended a tree and shot two spiders that were foolish enough to try to climb up after him. With that, the survivors fled, among them three who were limping from wounds to their segmented legs. Legolas briefly considered following after to finish them off, but then discarded the idea. They might lead him back to a nest swarming with additional spiders. It would be better to get Tawarmeanas safely back to the Great Hall, leaving the tracking to his father's warriors on the morrow.

Tawarmaenas and Legolas descended from their respective trees, and the cousins embraced. As Legolas had expected, the younger Elf was very, very sober. The two set out at a jog for the Hall, Legolas in the rear, his bow at the ready in case the spiders returned.

As they neared the Hall, they heard shouts and saw the flickering lights of torches. The midnight bell had rung, and the door warden had sent word to Thranduil that his nephew and son were without the Hall. Now, led by Thranduil and Gilglîr, a rescue party had come forth. As soon as he spied the two missing Elves, the King rushed forward and, forgetting that he was a monarch, threw his arms around both his son and his nephew, squeezing his young kinsmen until each gasped and 'cried uncle'.

"Foolish, foolish lads," Thranduil scolded. "Whatever possessed you to leave the Hall without an escort?"

"It's my fault," Legolas and Tawarmaenas said as one. The two young Elves looked at each other and grinned. "One for all, and all for one," Tawarmaenas said softly.

"Aye, for fellowship," Legolas agreed in a whisper.

"What's that you say?" demanded the King.

By now they had reached the Hall, and the cousins were relieved of the necessity of replying by Edwen Nana, who launched herself at them and began to chide them far more vigorously than Thranduil had. She pulled them away from the King, and holding each by an elbow, she marched them past an amused Gilglîr and down the corridor to her room. There she insisted that they drink mulled cider and eat biscuits while she continued to admonish them. Both young Elves worked very hard at looking suitably chastened, but Edwen Nana was not fooled.

"Scamps, the both of you,' she scolded. "When will you ever grow up?"

"Now, Nana," Legolas sallied, "you don't really want us to grow up, do you? Then you shouldn't be able to mother us."

"Nonsense!" Edwen Nana retorted. "There is no age limit on mothering. You will always be my Laiqua, and you," should said, turning to Tawarmaenas, "will always be my little Tuí."

Tawarmaenas blushed, and Legolas grinned. "I did not know she nicknamed you 'Sprout'," he teased.

Tawarmaenas at once proved hat Edwen Nana had truly named them scamps by seizing a pillow and chucking it at his cousin.

The elleth snatched the pillow away from Legolas. "Oh be off, the both of you," she grumbled, "before my chamber is reduced to a shambles."

The next morning, when the Men from Lake-town heard of the night's events, they looked very pale. The spiders had been lurking near the route they must take to return to their homes.

"Their bravado seems considerably lessened," Tawarmaenas whispered to Legolas.

Tawarmaenas was right: the Men were no longer jaunty. They hemmed and hawed but in the end asked outright for an escort of Thranduil's warriors, a boon that the King graciously granted.

After the Men had departed, things were quiet for several weeks. One morning, however, when Legolas entered the Dining Hall, he was surprised to see Gandalf seated at the table eating porridge.

"Mithrandir! When did you arrive?"

"Was I here last night?"

"No."

"Am I here now?"

"Yes."

"Then I reckon I must have arrived sometime between the point at which you retired to bed and the point at which you arose from your rest. Does that sound right to you?"

Legolas huffed in mock exasperation and took a chair beside the wizard.

"I am very glad to see you, Mithrandir."

"You won't be when I have told you my news. Aragorn may be visiting you shortly."

"Then I am still very glad to see you, for that is excellent news!"

"Perhaps," Gandalf said noncommittally. "I have asked Aragorn to track a creature I have been pursuing for several years. If he captures it, he may bring it here. I have come to request the use of Thranduil's dungeon if that is the case."

"It is rather dusty," Legolas laughed. "It hasn't been used in half a century."

"Yes, not since your father imprisoned a group of Dwarves who were passing through Mirkwood on my recommendation."

"Mithrandir, I do not understand why you descend to the level of Dwarves."

"You should enlarge your mind," Gandalf said dryly. "Unlike stature, the extent of a person's understanding is to a certain extent under his control."

Tawarmaenas arrived and took a chair next to his cousin.

"I am very glad to see you, Mithrandir," he said cheerfully. The wizard sighed.

"Why," he lamented, "do I feel as if I am trapped in an endless knot."

"Oh, an endless knot," exclaimed Tawarmaenas brightly. "That's a pentangle. My uncle's poet knows a most excellent poem that features a pentangle. It is a mannish poem of the sort that alliterates. In it a green knight is beheaded at the festival of Edenidhrin, but he does not die. The hero who beheads him bears a pentangle upon his shield. He enters into a pact with the green knight to stand a return blow after a year and a day, but in the end his life is spared so that he feels as if he were reborn with the next New Year."

"I know that poem," Legolas chimed in. "It was composed by Reuel the Minstrel."

"Actually," Gandalf corrected, "it is an ancient poem, and no one knows who composed it. Reuel the Minstrel, a very learned Man, put its verses into a more modern form and so preserved the tale for a new generation. He would never have claimed to be the author, however, for he was always the first to acknowledge his indebtedness to the poets who went before him. The tale goes ever on, and each poet follows a path broken for him by his predecessors. A story-teller who does not recognize this fact will soon go astray."

Now Thranduil made his entry. He took the empty chair beside Gandalf.

"I am very glad to see you, Mithrandir," he declared. Gandalf groaned aloud.

"A never-ending story," he lamented. "I am trapped within a never-ending story."

"I am glad," Legolas declared. "I shouldn't want the story to end!"

"I think I can assure you," said Gandalf, pushing back his chair and standing up, "that this tale will not end anytime soon."

And with that the wizard bid his friends farewell for the time being. Jamming his pointed hat upon his head and picking up his staff, he strode out of the room—but not, I assure you, out of the story.