A short note: I apologise for the lateness of this. I do not have an excuse, but I do hope you enjoy this chapter! Elvish translations at the bottom.

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter 2

Chapter 11

Legolas opened his eyes and yawned, blinking blearily at the ceiling. Morning sunlight was filtering through, the last sunray of autumn making itself known to all in the valley. Legolas realised he now felt fine, all traces of nausea had gone and he felt as though he was perfectly healthy. But there is poison running through my blood stream that will kill me, thought Legolas. Catching himself thinking negatively, he redirected his train of thought to the day ahead. If I am really lucky, Elrond will let me go practice some archery. With that cheering thought, he got out of bed and, pleased to find nothing amiss, headed to the library where he knew he would find his father and the Lord of Imladris.

Walking on the way there, he passed a vase. It stood in the hallway, just outside the door to the library. It was blue in general with small colours of light blue, red and green. There was nothing special in particular about it, but Legolas knew it for a very special reason. His mother had painted the tiny blue flowers. It had been her hand that ran the tiny brush less than a tenth inch wide over the microscopic cracks in the pottery and filled them with colour.

Naneth…

Flashback…

A small elfling with golden hair stood tied to a tree. His eyes were overflowing with tears, but he was not too proud to cry…not anymore. There was no point now in being proud. No point in anything, he thought. Not when his Nana was lying naked and dead in a pool of her own blood and the men who had murdered and violated her very womanhood gone in fits of laughter. Not when the guard were dead and lying in drifts around the clearing. Not now.

But there had been hope, even then. Even then Elladan and Elrohir had come – Elrohir ready with an embrace, a cool hand to a hot forehead and a healer's touch, Elladan with anger and then fiery love for the elfling that had seen so much before his time. Elrohir was the one who undid the bonds, and Elladan had covered up the Queen's body. Elrohir picked up the prince and Elrohir cradled the little one as he wept.

Even then there had been hope.

End Flashback…

Legolas went into the library. Looking around, he noticed a small crumpled figure in the corner of the room. A small crumpled Estel figure. The boy was curled up to a small lump, seeming hardly significant in the huge expanse of the room.

"Estel…" Legolas called, coming closer and closing the door behind him. "What is the matter?" He crossed the room soundlessly and knelt in front of the boy.

"A letter. From your uncle. There was nobody else in the library and the bird gave it to me." Estel's voice was barely audible, and as Legolas looked closer at the child, he noticed his left fist was clenched over a piece of parchment. Taking it gently from Estel, he read it.

"I would rather you have not seen this, gwador-nin." At the usage of this intimate term, Estel stood up in a rush, tears streaming heedlessly down his cheeks.

"How can you say this, Legolas? If Angrod is telling the truth, you will not be my brother for very much longer. January, Legolas!" Estel dissolved into sobs, convulses that wracked his entire body. "January…"

Legolas wordlessly stood up from his crouching position, and put his arms about Estel, rocking him gently as the boy cried.

"You have always been there for me, mellon nin." Legolas said, whispering into Estel's hair. "Even when you were younger, you were there when I was brought in wounded, there when I recovered. You went so far as to breathe for me, do you hear my words? You will always be my brother, and know I love you forever."

Estel's sobs calmed, and he embraced Legolas. Pulling away, he sat down on the floor again, dragging Legolas with him. They leaned up against the wall together.

"Are you not scared?" Estel asked.

"Why should I be? I have had a full life and this time, when my life is sacrificed I do it for the noblest of causes – to protect my people. It is my job as prince, Estel. I protect the people, and one of the tasks that is involved in this is putting the people's welfare first. If Angrod gains control of Mirkwood, there is no telling what he will do to the rest of Middle Earth. After all…" Legolas paused, a glint in his eye "We are the best archers in the world!"

Estel smiled a little through his tears.

"Legolas?"

"Mmm?"

"Why do you not seem to be surprised?"

"Anything can come in this world through Fate, the mother of all good, and of all evil. It is Fate that decides, and when Fate has decided, we must all leave it to her to run the spectacle."

In Mirkwood:

"Is all still going as planned, Lefellon?" Angrod walked up to his second in command, clapping a battle worn hand on his shoulder. The hand was strong and firm, the hand of a warrior.

"It is my liege," Angrod said, turning around and meeting the fiery gaze of his captain. "Forgive my asking, lord, but what shall be the outcome of this?"

Angrod laughed, his harsh voice, lower than a normal elf's resonating in the stone hall in which they were standing.

"I hope to obtain Mirkwood…I know Thranduil will not give up the throne for his son, no matter how he loves him."

"But how?"

"Lefellon, it is simple. By turning the people of Mirkwood against the King." This time it was Lefellon who tittered, composing himself swiftly.

"The people will never leave their king, my lord. They are too loyal, too trusting."

"And it is their trust that will be their doom," were Angrod's words as he turned on one heel and exited the room, leaving a smiling Lefellon in his wake.

"Legolas?" Thranduil called. He stood in the doorway of the library and looked inside, squinting into the unusually bright light. Legolas got up, and went to his father, turning his back so that Estel would not hear what was said. The human remained on the floor, attempting to listen.

"Ada, there has come a message from Angrod." Legolas' voice was low, but it was calm and did not betray his fluttering feelings as to how his father would take what was about to be said. "He has now had the courtesy of informing us of the poison's effects."

Thranduil's eyes widened and he extended his hand for the parchment whereupon, written in pen and ink lay his son's fate. Legolas did not hand it over.

"Ada, it will prohibit me from eating food. It will stop me from digesting food; anything I try to eat will just come back up, just as happened with the drink of herbs you gave me. All but water will do thus."

Thranduil stood still. Legolas opened his arms and his father, as though he were an elfling, walked into them and cried. Estel sat on the floor as he was, although silent tears were pouring down his cheeks.

A/N – please let me know how you like this new turn of events! Take care, and stay safe!

Elvish translations:

Naneth: Mother

Gwador-nin: My brother

Mellon nin: My friend