Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to all who are reading and as always, thank you for your wonderful and kind reviews!! This chapter is a little slow so please bear with me – it's necessary - as Legolas would say, I swear it! Thanks, too, to my beta, Sarah – you are the greatest!

Chapter 6

List of OC's:

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery competition in Imladris that takes place every 100 years

~*~

The next day, they all paid a quick visit to the recuperating Tathar. The Elf was still pale and lines of pain formed regularly around his lips and across his forehead when he attempted to shift on the bed. Lord Elrond assured them again that their Prince would heal and in good time. After he left and they were alone, Legolas was subjected to a speech from the wounded archer, bordering on scalding, as to his part in their current drama. He allowed the scolding to continue until pain and exhaustion at last stilled the fuming Elf.

He raised his hands in supplication. "I am sorry, Tathar," he said. "I did not plan for this to happen. You must know that. I knew you would not be able to compete and when the opportunity for me to replace you presented itself, I took it. I think I can win, otherwise, I wouldn't have done it."

"And if you win? What then? Do you win as me, or as you, Legolas?"

"I will be found out eventually, of course."

"Why? We are the only Mirkwood Elves here and if no one has discovered you thus far then you might make it through the contest as me. I will keep silent. I have already agreed to do so. But if you win and are not discovered then I demand that you promise, all of you, to keep it that way. I will go home victorious, Prince, not you." Legolas was struck speechless and could only gasp at the archer's demand. "I care not what you threaten Tûrin," Tathar warned as his eyes flicked to the Elf standing at Legolas's side. "I will take whatever punishment the King doles out. Promise me this, or I will tell all now and your chance to compete will come to an end."

Legolas felt his heart sink to the pits of his stomach. All of his hopes were riding on winning this tournament and telling his Adar of his victory. If he did not do this, he would lose any chance of breaking away from his assignment as Ivran's advisor. But there was nothing he could do. If Tathar exposed him now, he would not be allowed to compete and nothing would come of it. This way, he would at least have the knowledge of his win to comfort him in his suffering.

All at once, Rissien stepped close to the bed. Placing one hand on each side of Tathar, he leaned in so close his breath fanned the hairs back from the archer's face as he hissed, "I think not, my friend, but I am impressed with your attempts. If you insist on Legolas making you this promise, you will be sorry. You are right, the King would not punish you too severely for taking his wine or borrowing his stallion. But he would punish you indeed for allowing his youngest to be injured. If you are the one in the competition then it must truly be Legolas lying on this bed, wounded. And how was he injured? Because of you, Tathar. That is the story that Thranduil will hear from our lips – you failed in your duty to protect the Prince and as a result, he was skewered by an arrow, fell from his horse and received a serious concussion. You were solely at fault in this, both Tûrin and myself will attest to it. Trust me in this, Tathar; your return will not be celebrated.

"And if you choose to open your mouth now, I would advise against it. It is unlikely that you will make the return trip to Mirkwood unscathed. How very unlucky you will be, my friend – injured going and coming. You must truly be cursed." The already pale Elf had paled further and he shrank from the hot breath on his cheek and the cold, piercing stare that cut into him like a knife.

"What say you, Tathar," Tûrin said. He had not moved from Legolas's side, but the tone of his voice was just as menacing from a distance as Rissien's was up close. The archer tore his eyes from Rissien's to glance at Tûrin then back to Rissien again. He gulped.

"Very well," he said, his voice small and shuddering. "I will say nothing, and - and if Legolas were to win, I would allow the truth to be told."

"Good," Rissien stated. He stood up and moved briskly toward the door. "We have practicing to do. Come, Legolas." Tathar had closed his eyes once Rissien had risen from the bed but just as Legolas turned to follow his Captain and guard, the dark eyes of the archer flew open and Legolas caught a glimpse of something that sent a shiver down his back – hatred burned there, the likes of which he had never seen in an Elf before. And it was directed at him.

"What was that all about?" Legolas queried as they made their way to breakfast.

"He knows that if you win, he will not be representing Mirkwood ever again in a contest," Tûrin answered. "This will be his only chance to be known as the greatest archer from Mirkwood. If you lose and are exposed, then he can perhaps compete again next year, depending on how much Thranduil deems him to be at fault.

"Probably not much since he was unconscious when the decision was made to attempt this folly," Rissien muttered, glancing at Legolas.

"But, if I win, what of next year when he would be expected to compete again as Mirkwood's greatest archer?" Legolas asked, ignoring the look.

"He would have to come up with some reason why he couldn't, obviously. And he has assured, too, that you will never compete again, either, 'Las. You would not, or everyone will know this was a sham. It would be the same as breaking your promise, which I think he knows you well enough to know you would not allow any of us to do, once we made it."

It didn't take long for Legolas to shake the bad feeling the encounter with Tathar had engendered; archery practice always had that effect on him. Mindful of his promises to his friends, he passed the day dutifully at the archery fields. He had been steadfast too, the night before, when during the evening meal, Estel had put together a scheme to spirit them away unnoticed so they might have a chance to do some adventuring on their own. Legolas had, with great difficulty, stayed his course and turned down the offer. When practice was over, late in the afternoon, though, he had not been so firm in his convictions. Tûrin and Rissien had allowed him to return to the barracks ahead of them to bathe for dinner and rest. An excited Estel waylaid him before he reached his destination.

"There is a new colt born at the stables," the young man said, wide eyed. "Come and see, Tathar – surely your keepers would not have difficulty with that, now would they? It's just over there." Legolas allowed himself, without complaint, to be dragged from the barracks and across the paddock that separated the soldier's quarters from the nearby stables.

"His sire is Ada's stallion Templa. He is of the same bloodlines as the Mearas," Estel said as they both wrapped arms around the highest rung of the stall's gate. The colt was beautiful – wobbly legged and still damp, it huddled up close to its mother, watching the two awestruck young ones with dark, liquid eyes. They talked while they watched and in no time, Legolas felt a surprising sense of comfortable camaraderie in the man's presence. There were few that he could say that about and never had he achieved it in so short a time. And never with an adan. In fact, so intent on their conversation were they both that they heard nothing of the pandemonium being raised in the surrounding compound, not until the stable door flew open and one of the twins filled the doorway, hair flying wildly around his head as if he had been running.

"There you are!" he all but shouted. "Tûrin and Rissien have been beside themselves with panic trying to locate you, penneth!"

"We are just here, Elrohir. Calm yourself," Estel demanded with a touch of irritation. He had been enjoying the conversation too and the twin's intrusion had frightened the foal.

"I'm not the one concerned, trust me, little brother," Elrohir said as he joined them at the gate to the stall. "Your guards take their charge quite seriously, Tathar, much more so even than they take their watch over the Prince. I must say, I find it strange." Elrohir cocked his head and regarded Legolas, carefully. Serious mithril-shot eyes bore into Legolas's own and he felt fear skirt up his spine. He wanted to pull away from those eyes, to back away completely, in fact, but found himself rooted to the spot where he stood. This Elf knew Ellarian, how well, Legolas had no idea, but such close review could mean that he sensed something familiar which might lead to suspicion, questions and subsequent discovery.

With a not quite imperceptible shudder, Legolas forced himself away. Turning to Estel, he bestowed a quick bow. "I am sorry but I need to go now. Thank you for showing me the foal – he is indeed beautiful." He turned back to Elrohir. "I apologize for causing trouble. They are responsible for me and things would not go easy on them if anything were to happen to me. We may be in Imladris but our senses have been honed by life in Mirkwood and no place there, other than within the palace walls themselves, would ever be considered safe."

"No trouble at all, Tathar. They will need to learn that Imladris is safe from the evils that you are used to. I only wish you and Estel would be able to spend more time together. I haven't seen him smile this much in months. It is a welcome change." Legolas returned his attention once more to Estel who was still observing the foal. It was all Legolas could do not to ask the question that chased through his head – and just why is it so difficult for you to smile? But he had been crass and quick with questions too much already on this visit – he was better trained than that – and so clamped his mouth shut and gave his newly found friend a warm smile. "I wish that too," he said, instead. "I do not often get to spend time with someone younger than myself." Elrohir laughed out loud at that, causing Legolas's smile to bleed into a frown.

"What?" he asked.

"Younger than you?"

"Well, of course," Legolas huffed. "I am an Elf. I am – of course I am older than he is!" He said, indignantly.

"Perhaps, penneth, but I would not be surprised if he is the older between you, though close in age you may be."

"That is ludicrous, Elrohir. I don't know much about men but I'm quite certain he can't have seen more than twenty years. Trust me. I am older than that."

"Perhaps, penneth." Elrohir repeated. "Perhaps you beat him if discussing years on earth, but if we were to compare Elf years to human years? I think not."

Estel's attention had swung back around to his friend and his brother, a smile planted firmly on his face. "You could solve this question mellon nîn, once and for all, if you just told us your age," Estel chuckled, trying at the same time to wipe the grin from his face.

"I will not," Legolas muttered as he swept past Elrohir and headed for the door to the stable. "I don't understand this unending interest in my age. I am no Elfling." He spoke with an angry edge to his voice but it wasn't so much anger he felt as it was fear that all of this talk of his youth might somehow lead to his discovery. There were painfully few Elves near his age in Mirkwood, nay, in all of Middle Earth, more than likely, and if that were not enough of a clue to his identity, an archer of Tathar's renown would not be as young as Legolas was. If he were to lie and say he was older, the twins' and Estel's conniving and scheming might easily catch him out. But his petulant anger did not help his case and the two behind him merely laughed out loud, a bright, merry sound that continued to ring in his ears even after the stable door closed and he could hear no longer.

Tûrin and Rissien were not laughing when he arrived back at the barracks and as his punishment, he was sent to bed. Not without supper of course for that would never do when the tournament was the next day, but he was forced to eat alone and in bed, threatened that his feet were not to touch the floor under any circumstances. They were not stupid, though and followed that his posterior was also not to be separated from his mattress, nor was the mattress to be separated from the cot, nor was the cot to be removed from the room. There was to be a feast replete with dancing for the opening of the tournament, which Legolas would be missing. Tûrin and Rissien refused to be punished along with their troublesome charge, however, and feeling that they had adequately covered all possible avenues of escape, headed to the feast after commanding Legolas to obey, threatening to turn him in if he didn't and then setting a guard at each door in case the threats did not work and the promises were broken.

The guards were to be on lookout for someone attempting escape, however, not someone breaking in, so Estel had no trouble joining Legolas in his solitary dinner, clambering through an open window with enough ease that it was likely not the first time he had entered the building by such a route. "You are missing the dance," Legolas pointed out as they both tucked into their food.

"Mmf," Estel answered, not looking the least bit concerned about it as he inelegantly shovelled food into his mouth, as if he hadn't had a meal in a week, or maybe two.

"But won't the beautiful Arwen be there?"

"Mmm."

"Estel?"

"Hmm?"

"Stop eating for two seconds and answer me. I feel guilty that you are here with me and not enjoying yourself at the dance."

"Nonsense, Tathar. I am where I want to be and until you made me stop eating, I was enjoying myself, immensely. And the lady Arwen will have no interest in me. I am a simple Adan, not an Elf, in case you hadn't noticed and there would be no reason for her to want anything to do with me with the greatest Elven archers in all of Middle Earth chasing after her."

"Perhaps, Estel. However, though it is true that I have met fewEdain in my life, I can still say with some degree of certainty that you are not simple."

"Would that be a compliment, Wood Elf?"

Legolas grinned. "I would no more call you simple than I would call myself complicated. There is something more to you, Estel, something more than you let on. I see it in the way you hold yourself, your ease and confidence, how you take the time to listen to others and to the world around you. It is not just your skill or your bearing though. There is more to you than meets the eye, I believe. Yes - you are far from simple."

"Why, I do believe that is a compliment, Tathar. Yes, I am quite the mystery, I will admit to it. And since we are trading accolades, I believe there is something more to you, as well, aside from your amazing skill with a bow. I can't quite put my finger on it, either. It is something in your demeanour that bespeaks of more than what you let on to be. And I don't care what you say, penneth, you are a penneth, like it or not. I have a feeling that if you were to tell the truth, I would be shocked by just how young you are and amazed that one so young could display such prowess with a bow. Perhaps someday we will both feel comfortable enough to tell one another our secrets." Legolas felt a sudden desire to do just that – to tell this adan everything. A noisy clamour at the door stopped him.

Half a dozen archers, ending their evening early, entered the room. They gave the pair huddled on the bed wary greetings and hesitant goodnights before moving to their own bunks, all but one who had been with Haldir and his brothers earlier and had spoken the words that had angered everyone. He sauntered over to where the two relaxed on Legolas's bed and slouched against one of the support columns that bisected the room at regular intervals, crossing his arms and cocking his head at them.

"Ah, so you have been sent to bed early, eh little Elf?" he smirked. "Not without your dinner though I see, how thoughtful your champions are. I find it interesting, little Elf that your Prince does not seem to care enough to check up on you, though. Oh, that is right, I forgot," the Elf sneered. "He fell off of his horse and hit his head, didn't he? Not surprising for I had heard he was something of a disappointment to his family – that his skills are far from satisfactory. Are the rumours about him, true then? They would explain his lack of coordination…" Estel rose quickly to his feet and approached the slouching Elf, fists at the ready. Legolas took to his feet too, bewildered at the Elf's words. How could being part Silvan cause him to have a lack of coordination?

"I will put up with your talk about me, Surin, but you are besmirching now the names of those better than you. Hold your tongue or I will personally see that you are removed from the contest and from Imladris. You are no fit representative of Lórien if you continue in this vein."

The Elf straightened and waving a hand said, with a snort, "Calm yourself, Estel. I was merely seeing what sort of backbone this penneth had. Obviously none if he requires a human to stand up for him. I think that speaks well of my chances tomorrow, now, doesn't it? He will likely wilt under the pressure." The Elf snorted again and the others behind him snickered. He spun on his heel and returned to his bunk, which thankfully, was on the opposite side of the barracks from Legolas's.

Estel watched them until they settled themselves before returning to sit on the bunk, patting the spot next to him as he said, "Do not mind them, Tathar. They don't like me, either. I believe that reflects positively on my character." He smiled but Legolas noted that the smile did not reach his eyes.

Legolas followed slowly, glancing back at the group of Elves now laughing quietly among themselves. "What was he talking about?" he asked. "What rumours?"

Estel shrugged. "Nothing that matters, mellon nîn. Do not even give it a moment of your worry. Surin is an idiot. Not all of the Lorien Elves are like him though - Haldir is not a bad one, he is just mistrustful of those different from himself. I think that one day he will learn how wrong he is and he will change. He is not above admitting when he is wrong. On the other hand, Surin will always be an idiot. I am a human raised among Elves. I have long ago learned to concentrate on the Haldirs and let the Surins roll by me."

"You were hardly letting him roll by, Estel. I think you would have gladly come to fisticuffs had Elrohir not stopped you yesterday. What stopped you now?"

Estel was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed, a scowl on his face. "I have learned to pick my fights, Tathar. I would not want to risk something happening to you before the contest tomorrow," he said. "That is where you will show them all up. Of that I have no doubt." The scowl turned to a grin and he chuckled. "And besides, there are six of them and two of us. The guards would likely aid us but I do not think we would come out of it without at least a bruise and then I would have to admit to my Adar that I had been fighting. He tries so hard to teach me the skills and temperament of a prince of his house but I fear such efforts are lost on me."

"Apparently not, Estel. We did not fight and we are not bruised. There is hope."

Estel took his leave shortly after and with the other Elves bent on ignoring him, Legolas soon found himself alone with his thoughts. The next day would be an important one – he would soon discover if he could hold his own among the other archers. In the darkness, gazing at the flickering shadows as they danced across the ceiling above his bed, he remembered Estel's words - there is hope. His new friend might offer him more than a name with that meaning. With his friendship had come a feeling of strength and confidence the likes of which Legolas had never before known. He felt his limbs relax as he passed into the waking dreams of Elven sleep, looking forward to the coming day.

~*~

Dictionary:

Penneth – young one

Naneth - mother

Adar - father

Adan - man

tithen pen – little one

mellon nîn – my friend