Disclaimer: Not mine.

Thanks to Escape my reality, XoLikeWoahxO, Ohtar Vicky, Thranduils Heart And Soul, Silivren Tinu, awaylaughingonafastcamel, mikinyet, ShaolinQueen, yenneffer, fanpainter and Cushion for reviewing. *hugs*

I can't believe it… I'm almost at the end of this. *sigh* One chapter and the epilogue to go… I'm going to miss writing this story.

On the other hand… I have been thinking about what the next longer fic is going to be. I'm inclining towards trying my hand at a murder mystery – perhaps with the Elf-and-Ranger as a pair of intrepid detectives? Or even Eldarion (which will let Gimli be in the story, too, although it will mean no Elrond). Please let me know what you think of the idea – whether it's worth a shot or it should be abandoned altogether.

Chapter 25: Finding Peace

Midnight found Legolas and Thranduil beneath one of Lindariel's favourite trees. They had gone there after dinner, to talk by themselves. But Legolas, worn out by the journey and still not as strong as he ought to be, had been too tired to say much, and had eventually fallen asleep against his father's shoulder. Thranduil, not displeased by that, had decided that there was no need to wake him when the weather outside was so pleasant.

Not long after Legolas dozed off, though, he began to stir uncomfortably, eyes wide with a mixture of horror and fear.

Thranduil was jolted out of his own reverie by the unexpected movement. His first instinct was to wake Legolas, who was clearly treading unpleasant paths in his dreams. But something held him back – perhaps the subliminal knowledge that waking Legolas would do little good, that the nightmares would begin again as soon as he went back to sleep.

Guided by instinct, he pulled Legolas closer, humming a lullaby that had often been used to coax a very small Elfling into pleasant dreams.

After a moment, the young Elf relaxed. He shifted slightly, his fingers finding the edge of Thranduil's cloak. Then, with a sigh and a murmured, "Ada," his face slackened in sleep once more.

Only then did Thranduil look up. He had to confess himself not entirely surprised to see the sons of Elrond watching him sympathetically.

"How long has he been having them?"

"Ever since he stopped taking sleeping draughts," Elladan said. "We had hoped that returning here might make them stop, but…" He shrugged in resignation, although his expression was anything but resigned. "We have been waking him each time. Nana says that if he stops blaming himself, it will help."

"And she said we were to tell you that you cannot sit up with him every night," Elrohir added. "You will do him no good by exhausting yourself."

Thranduil could not hold back a smile.

"Celebrían has not changed in the least."

"So Lord Glorfindel frequently says. He also says he has much in common with our daernaneth." A nudge from Elladan reminded Elrohir that there was little love lost between Thranduil and Galadriel, and he flushed and changed the subject. "We are pleased to be here, my king, but if the time had been happier…"

The Elven-king shook his head.

"We have only the time we are given," he said simply. "And while Legolas lives, there is more than mere duty that holds me to Middle-earth." He paused. "I have not yet thanked you for all you did. Elrond is a fool, but that is not your fault. You have been loyal friends."

The twins flushed at the praise.

"We did not do much, my king," Elrohir mumbled.

Thranduil gathered Legolas into his arms and got smoothly to his feet. The young Elf stirred, but did not wake.

"You did more than you can imagine," he responded, walking in the direction of the graceful building before them. The twins joined him, one on either side. "He might not have survived to return without you. If I had lost Legolas as I did Lindariel, and so soon…"

Legolas woke early the next morning, in his own bed, after one of the most restful nights he had had for days. For a moment he could not imagine where he was. Then he recognized the familiar shapes in the early light pouring through the open window.

He got to his feet slowly.

It was too early for breakfast, and in any case he was not yet hungry. It only took him a moment to make up his mind; then he was on the balcony, balancing easily on the edge of the parapet, leaping gracefully to the ground.

In the deserted room, Elrohir emerged from the shadows by the cold hearth.

"Why," he said to the room at large, "is it always the balcony? Is there something wrong with leaving a chamber by the door?"

The young prince of Eryn Galen stood alone before his mother's grave. The wind whipped his hair away from his face and tugged at his cloak.

He found it impossible to believe that she lay under the unresponsive earth, that she would not at any moment emerge from the trees and laugh at him for being so melancholy. He could not imagine life without her. He loved his father fiercely, and he knew the emotion was returned, but they were both stubborn. Without Lindariel's mediation Legolas and Thranduil would have spent the better part of every year not talking to each other.

He felt the tears come, and he did not try to stop them.

He sensed the trees reaching out to him in sympathy. They mourned the queen nearly as much as he did. Somehow that only served to increase his grief.

A footstep sounded behind him. Legolas stiffened. It was not his father.

Pausing a moment to compose himself, and to scrub his cheeks with his sleeve, he pulled his cloak closer about him and turned.

"Mae govannen," Rochendilwen said softly. "I thought you might be here."

Not trusting himself to speak, Legolas only nodded. She seemed to understand, because she gave him a slight smile and came forward to grip his shoulder. What she said, though, was the last thing he had expected.

"Will you spar with me?"

Legolas opened his mouth to refuse. He did not trust his emotions as far as Rochendilwen was concerned, not yet, and he had no desire to harm her in a moment of anger. Once again, she guessed his thoughts.

"Do not worry," she said, amusement entering her voice. "You do not look strong enough to hurt me even if you try. If anything, I will have to worry about doing you some damage. This is what happens to foolish Elflings who insist on riding all the way from Imladris to Eryn Galen when they are still unfit."

"I am not unfit," Legolas protested, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Then come and prove it."

Legolas could not believe that he was actually doing it. But Rochendilwen was smiling at him, half-exasperated but slightly nervous, and he found himself following her to the armoury, where the warriors kept knives and swords with blades carefully blunted for their practice.

They did not go to the practice fields, but into the forest, to a large clearing some distance from the guard posts, where they could be certain of not disturbing anybody.

At any other time the clearing would have been full of warriors, both novices and veterans, sparring or going through training exercises. But most of them had been deep in their cups the previous night, whether out of sorrow for their queen's passing or gratitude for their prince's safe return none could tell. Legolas and Rochendilwen had the place to themselves.

As soon as they began, Legolas knew that she had been right about one thing: he could not possibly harm her. Weeks of being confined to his bed and then to his room had dulled his reflexes, and Glorfindel's brief training exercises had only partly restored them.

He realized, after the first few minutes, that she was not even trying to defeat him. She was only feinting and defending herself, letting him try his strength.

"You see?" she said, smiling.

"Why?" he gasped.

"It will help you. It is no longer dangerous for you to tire yourself, is it? I assume not, or Lord Elrond would not have let you out of his sight. You can try harder if you like, Elfling. You will not hurt me."

The sun was well over the horizon when, finally, exhaustion made Legolas drop his arms. Rochendilwen had tested his strength to the utmost; towards the end it had been all he could do not to have his blades knocked out of his hands, and even that he suspected she could have done if she had wanted to.

With a sigh, Legolas practically collapsed to the ground beneath one of the beeches surrounding the clearing. Rochendilwen, with far more grace, did the same.

"You have regained more strength than I thought," she said, idly running one finger down the edge of her blade. "If the weapons masters manage to persuade your father that you are fit for a normal training schedule, you will be ready for patrols again in days."

"They will let me go on patrol now," Legolas said lightly. "After all, they let you do it three weeks ago."

"Who told you that?"

"Saeldur."

"That is different. I was not nearly killed." She glanced at him. "I do not think anybody has actually discussed your future as a warrior with the king yet. Not even Lord Thorontur dares do it. Do you feel better now?"

Startled by the sudden change of subject, it was a minute before Legolas realized what she was talking about.

"Yes… It does help."

He was tired, true, but it was very different from the numb, terrifying powerlessness he had felt when he had first woken in Imladris, when the slightest attempt at movement had been painful and he had barely been able to return the reassuring pressure of his friends' fingers. What he felt now was the weariness normally caused by a full day's weapons training. It made the stillness of the forest wonderfully soothing, and drove from his mind the dark thoughts that had been in it all this time.

"Legolas…" Rochendilwen sounded suddenly uncertain. "If you do not wish me to be in your presence –"

"No." The young Elf gave her what he hoped was a consoling smile. "I would have trusted myself – and he was your brother. I… I do wish you had not done it, but I understand. Perhaps I would have done the same."

She stared.

"You are a trusting fool. Did you never for a moment suspect that I… I might…"

"That you might have intended it all along?" Legolas guessed, and she nodded. "But you meant no harm, did you? If you wanted to kill me, you could do it now, even with a blunt blade."

She patted his knee, much as she had done when he had been an Elfling.

"And you trust your friends?"

"Do you not?"

"I trusted my brother, and look where that led."

"I do not think the problem was that you trusted your brother," Legolas said slowly, groping for words. "It was that you did not trust your king to deal fairly with him."

Rochendilwen's shoulders slumped.

"And yet he has dealt fairly with me, despite all I did."

"It was not your fault," Legolas said sharply.

"I cannot forgive him for it," Rochendilwen said in a dull monotone. "The king was kind to him, kinder than he deserved. If it had been in my hands… I am so sorry, Legolas. I cannot imagine what you suffered."

"I suffered the pain of loss," the Elf-prince said, staring up into the leaves of the tree. "But I was not betrayed by anybody I trusted." He tossed one of his knives into the air, catching it by the hilt as it came down. "There was a time when I was angry with you, but even then I did not blame you. How could I? If somebody I cared for had been on trial for murder, and if I had been certain of his innocence, I might have helped him escape as well."

"But I was wrong about his innocence."

"You did not know him – none of us knew him, except perhaps your mother. Nobody else here knew his childhood or what he was taught by those who raised him."

"And if the flaw was in his very blood?"

Legolas shrugged.

"You will have to ask Mithrandir that. But even if it was, it is not in your blood."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because if you really did have an inclination towards murder and kinslaying, you would not find the very idea of it so disturbing."

Rochendilwen laughed.

"You will make a very good mentor to young warriors one day, Legolas – assuming your father lets you continue."

"Do not be absurd."

"You know that you will be commander of the Colhador eventually, if Lord Thorontur has his way. And that is where all the eager young archers are sent, to try their mettle before they become wiser and less reckless and can go on to other duties."

"What mettle?" Legolas protested. "For as long as I can remember, the woods have been peaceful. There are no wild charges and desperate raids now."

"I do not think it will last much longer," Rochendilwen said thoughtfully.

Legolas, suddenly remembering the creatures he had seen in the depth of the forest, could not help but agree.

Thorontur and Arbellason were watching Thranduil as he sat, intent, at the table in the nursery.

"He is not as clumsy as I expected," Arbellason commented to Thorontur. "When I first heard of this, I was certain we would spend months clearing out wood splinters and the remnants of abortive attempts before we saw anything useful emerge."

"He can do well enough when he is so inclined," Thorontur said cheerfully. "Master Bainion would certainly have been satisfied if he had seen this."

Thranduil looked up long enough to scowl.

"It may surprise the two of you to learn that I am not deaf. You can stop talking about me as though I were a piece of furniture."

He was favoured with a wicked grin from each of his friends. Muttering under his breath, he decided to ignore them and went back to his work. They waited in silence for a few minutes, and then Thorontur spoke again.

"I believe you were saying something about sailing, mellon nîn."

"Sailing?" Thranduil asked, too much of a scapegrace even to blush. "Who said anything about sailing? Why would I be sailing when Legolas wants me here? Do you think I can possibly leave him here all by himself? I cannot believe you are asking me such ridiculous questions."

Rochendilwen had gone in to breakfast, but Legolas, unwilling to leave so soon, lingered in the clearing, chatting amicably with the trees.

… And of course you can always turn to us for help, one of them was saying merrily. We know what it is like for a young Elf in the forest. And when you must be king –

King? Legolas demanded in astonishment, even as four different trees began berating the first for indiscretion. What are you talking about? Why would I ever be king of anything?

Nothing, Elfling, he is being a fool –

Truly, he is the most idiotic tree in the entire forest. Even the willows by the river –

But you need have no fear, Elfling. He did not mean anything.

Legolas was not deceived.

Eventually, with great reluctance, one of the trees said, Your father plans to sail – or so he said. Perhaps he will still change his mind, and you need not worry about it yet.

Sindarin Translations

Ada – Dad/Daddy

Nana – Mum/Mummy

Daernaneth – Grandmother

Mae govannen. – Well met.

Mellon nîn – My friend

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