For all those of you who are stuck at home in self-isolation or quarantine. And to those of you who are sick, I wish a swift recovery. Please, if there are Corona incidents in your country: Stay the fudge at home! Let's stick together and not endanger those of us who are more vulnurable to this virus! It's what netflix and fanfiction were made for.


"Trust me," Glorfindel plead, holding Legolas' shoulders. He could not go in there. His friend's fea was too weakened and the Darkness they already saw clashing in the throne room below was too strong. "I need you to trust me."

Legolas cursed softly, his hands balled to fists and for a moment Glorfindel feared all good words would go unheard and he would have to physically restrain the young elf but just when he was about to turn to Eyaenne for aid, the elfling nodded. Legolas chin quivered and his jaw clenched but the trust in his eyes was as true as the honesty.

Sighing in relief, Glorfindel nodded, squeezing his shoulders. He then turned to Eyaenne. Another stubborn elf, he thought to himself.

"You should remain with him", he said, his fierce gaze causing even the Princess to raise her brows. Her lips thinned.

"You are wasting time, Glorfindel," she hissed, arms crossed but she made no move to go ahead herself when she jerked her head towards the stairs. "Go! Now!"

Knowing she was right and that Alcanor and Roewen needed help now, Glorfindel nodded. They had run down from the Royal Healing Ward when the guards had stormed in and only the view that had opened before them on the way down had caused them to stop, their harsh breathing filling the air for the single second it took to assess the situation. The Throne Room lay in dim light and Roewen's pleas were ringing through the air. She was kneeling before the steps towards the throne, holding her lover's hands. And around Alcanor's skin, the swirls of dread danced like a living being.

Glorfindel squared his shoulders and a wind brushed through the caverns. Light flared up from inside him, his stature proud, his hair gleaming in the breeze. Wide, certain steps carried him down and he strode towards the elf huddled on himself. The guards parted, before him.

"Glorfindel, please help!" Roewen begged, tears glistening in his light. And the balrog-slayer, sent back from the dead by the Valar themselves, knelt besides the shaking elf. He glanced up and could see Eyaenne and Legolas stand side by side looking down at them, their faces pale and hard.

"Crown Prince Alcanor," he greeted the elf with some reproach, his body tense. He leant forward, careful not to touch the elf. "Crown Prince Alcanor!" he repeated with more force, light spilling over to touch Alcanor who had been clawing at the threads, not acknowledging him in the slightest. And some of the threads slipped away, softened by Glorfindel's might.


The whirls threatened to take his sight and Alcanor shook his head, clinging to Roewen. He did not want to lose her too, could not loose her. Legolas was gone, Iarith was gone, he wanted to keep Roewen at least close. Raising a hand, he tried to pull the threads away from his face, but his hand went right through them. He tried again, only to fail once more, Roewen's voice growing distant. Only her mention of Legolas kept his attention. She must be wrong, his brother was dead, he had seen it. Had seen his decaying body, had held the rotting flesh.

Nausea welled up within him.

"He's alive, Al, he's alive!"

Just how could she not know? She had been with him, had she not? Before the darkness had crashed into him the first time, had smashed his inner light, broken it into tiny shards, only one of which was left, hidden in the deepness of his mind.

Something lightened and Alcanor tried again, his hand shaking. And this time, the threads were solid beneath his fingers, like spider silk, elusive and cool, almost slippery. Pulling it away, he tore at it, wanting it to go away.

Cool air brushed against his skin and he felt sweat cover his back. He was aware of the familiar vastness of the throne hall, heard how Roewen's words were echoing in the void, switching from desperate to soothing. He tasted earth and metal tinged the cool air but there was also the smell of spices, a freshly brewed tea lingering in his nostrils. Not a smell he associated with the throne room.

Hands on his knees, another set of hands holding his shoulders, too large to be Roewen's. He turned, blinking against the mist, raising a hand to pull the veil from his face. Only to come face to face to Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin.

"What in the Valar's name are you doing here?" Alcanor asked, the balrog-slayer's presence too confusing for any other reaction. Golden hair was shining in a painfully bright light. Blue eyes wide as the distant sea, the pupil tiny like the prick of a pin, were staring back at him.

"The Valar did not agree with you that our paths should never again cross, Prince Alcanor," the balrog-slayer said, hands tightening around his shoulders. "We must not remain enemies, Alcanor."

Lord Glorfindel blinded him and Alcanor crunched his eyes shut, turning away.

"I have not yet found a Sinda willing to speak to you."

"I am still hoping to speak to a certain Prince."

"I told you not to return."

The hands tightened on his shoulders even as his stomach felt as if it had been set on fire, sharp pain digging deep, like a knife thrust into him. He gritted his teeth, turning away to hide his pain, doubling over.

"Alcanor?" A distant voice asked. Legolas' voice. Alcanor growled. It was a lie. It was all a lie. Legolas was dead.

"I have your King's permission to be here. Alcanor, there is someone I believe you must see."

The pain was getting unbearable and Alcanor felt his hands tremble. But he forced his eyes open, twisting to stare at the balrog-slayer. The elf shifted and looked over his own shoulder. Alcanor's eyes teared up with the glare surrounding the elf, blinding him even as he felt it burn across his skin. But he followed Lord Glorfindel's gaze and the fire in the pit of his stomach was drenched in water so sudden, he shivered. His baby brother. Legolas. Legolas. Tithen-las.

His hair was short, brushing over his shoulders, but the sides braided by Eyaenne's rather messy hand.

"Tithen-las," he whispered and his chin quivered, lips trembling. A hand on Lord Glorfindel's shoulder as he pushed himself to his feet, knees buckling. He stumbled, pain running through his thighs, flames dancing across his skin. Legolas came to his feet as well, just in time for Alcanor to pull him against his chest. The smell of rosemary and bergamot lingered in Legolas' hair; his little brother's favourite soap. The moment he felt his solid body and felt the warmth it radiated, the last shard of his fea exploded, burning up in a light that was all its own.

And then he was standing alone in a forest, white mist wavering among his feet, the trees only distant trunks, shadows in the white. Looking down at himself, he saw he was covered in mud, specks clinging to his arms and face while his front was covered as if he had fallen forward into it. His boots were caked and splatters decorated his legs almost completely.

"Alcanor?" Iarith was standing in the mist, dressed in her favourite blue dress. Her eyes raked up and down his form and a frown marred her normally smooth forehead.

Alcanor blinked. Looking around himself once more, he noted how quiet it was. He heard a bird sing, but it was the only sound, eerie and distant despite its shrill and happy tune. Besides the trees' trunks, Iarith was all he could see among the mist.

"Are you alive as well?" Alcanor asked, no longer able to think. Nothing he had experienced made any sense. First waking in a dungeon, then Lord Elrond's presence, Lord Glorfindel suddenly appearing in the throne room with Legolas by his side and now Iarith appearing in a misty forest. None of this made any sense.

"No, brother, I am not," Iarith said, slowly drawing nearer. There was sorrow in her voice and it cut deep into his heart.

"But Tithen-las … was he … I don't understand."

"Legolas is alive. He fought for you. Nearly lost himself in the process. I wish I could ground him still for risking himself like that." She met his eyes now and the fire he saw there was so familiar, he relaxed. She spoke the truth; he knew without a doubt. Whatever else was happening, her words were truth. And Legolas was alive. Something warm and wet touched his cheeks and he found he could not stop crying. Legolas was alive. Alive after all. That was all that mattered. As much as he loved Iarith, they all had been united in their decision that Legolas was the most important among them, would always be.

"Where are we then?"

"I am not quite sure. I believe this is the path leading to Mando's Halls."

"Is that where we're going?"

"It is where to I must return. But you can't. Not if the Darkness still clings to you. You can't enter the pure realms with it." She touched the mud and pulled. A stringy substance, like molten cheese, clung to him and flung back the moment she let go.

It wasn't mud. Realising it had his heart jumpstart in his chest and he brushed over his front, frantically trying to pull it off. His breath caught, his eyes wide while he tried to pull it off, but it only clung to him, matted his fingers.

"I can't get it off!", he yelled, rubbing his hands over his front, stumbling back. "Iarith, help me!"

It would not come off! It stuck to him worse than honey and now the smell of something rotten rose from the substance, enveloping him in a disgusting cloud.

"They'll help. Just hold on." Iarith said, grasping his arms. Instantly, Alcanor stilled. "You must remain calm!" the she-elf demanded, her silver eyes erratically fixed on his face. She never spoke with such determination, never issued orders like that. And so Alcanor stilled, staring at his dead sister with panic in his chest.

"They'll help. They'll all help. Just remain calm!" She was pushing him back, until she turned him so she was now pushing him from behind. Forced him to climb stairs of cracked stone and the turn before a fallen tree. "Sit." He sat. And she backed away. Raised her hand for a last wave and then she turned and the mist swallowed her lithe form.


Foolish elf!, Glorfindel cursed silently. His heart had dropped when he had heard Legolas' voice behind him. Of course the child had not stayed away. Stubborn Thranduillion! Just how did they survive this long with such a stubborn streak? He had to give Thranduil his fullest respect for managing to install some common sense into those children!

But now, seeing Alcanor, truly Alcanor, cling to his brother, he was beginning to think his stubborn friend might have been right, foolish though he still had been, endangering his life. The tendrils swayed and shifted and they tried to mar Legolas' skin as well but before they could, Glorfindel rose, swiftly crossing the distance between them. He would not allow Legolas to be infected by it, not again. He could not bear to see those eyes once more.

He did not hesitate for long. Once he saw the dark flinch away from him, he stepped forward and embraced both Thranduillionnath, pulling them close to him in a bear hug that could not nearly encompass both of them. Alcanor was tall and his shoulders broad, his stance proud even now.

Glorfindel gasped upon the contact. It hurt. Valar, it hurt. It felt as if the fires of Gondolin were upon him once more and as if he had sworn them up, the pictures of his past arose before him. Towers crumbled, screams echoed in his mind, the air seared hot within his lungs. He shifted, blinking against the blaze, tugging Legolas closer to himself. He had lost his gwador's son, but he would not loose Legolas, he would not. He would be able to save both him and his brother. Sweat broke out over his entire body, causing him to tremble, his breath soon coming in abrupt, carefully forced gasps.

Steps sounded somewhere, not compatible with the pictures of destruction forcing themselves onto him. Glorfindel blinked, gritting his teeth, holding even stronger to the two Thranduillionnath. He forced more light out, feeling the warm breeze wash over him. He turned his head and relief washed over him so forcefully, he nearly staggered. Lord Erestor came running down the floating walkways. He looked little like the bookworm of Imladris in his warrior clothes and the stern crease upon his brow enhanced the distance resemblance the elf had to Lord Elrond.

When Erestor's light flared, Glorfindel shut his eyes, feeling Alcanor tremble beneath his touch. Erestor came closer and stopped besides them, immediately imitating Glorfindel and gently pulling Alcanor into his embrace as if the strong elf were a delicate child.

"Your timing is impeccable, mellon," Glorfindel smiled to the old elf, sweat glistening on his own brow.

"Falin sensed our need to return," the Lord replied in soft tones, wonder lingering to express the quiet question of a scholar as to just how the young Thranduillion could have known. A question for another time though and Erestor grasped Alcanor's shoulders, pulling the Crown Prince to lean against his chest, his head resting on the Noldo's broad shoulder.

Lord Erestor closed his eyes and even though he did not possess the strength of healing Lord Elrond did, he was by far more skilled than Glorfindel. Soon his chants rang eerily loud through the caverns and his light wove and intermingled with the strength the balrog-slayer provided and though they could not push their light into the elf as the King and Legolas had been able to, they wove the net of healing over the struggling elf and it fell like a blanket. Hisses and distant, ominous sizzling chased shivers down their backs as their net touched Alcanor and thin tendrils rose black from the light skin, twisting and turning before it evaporated like the mist of hot tea.

A trembling hand came up and Alcanor swiped over his face, pulling away more strands that sizzled into nothingness in the bright light. Glorfindel eased his embrace so the elf could move and Alcanor brought up the hand again, once more brushing over his face. He stepped back, pulling away layers of slick from his chest. Erestor let him but his hand remained firm against the Crown Prince's back.

Legolas reached for Glorfindel's arm and squeezed it so hard it hurt.

"It is going to be alright, Penneth," Glorfindel murmured. Only a minute ago he had felt tired, exhausted, his bones aching but already he was feeling better. His light brightened once more, the smell of the cool air settling around his shoulders like a soothing blanket.

"The trees," Legolas murmured back. Turning, Glorfindel caught him staring up. Tilting his own chin, Glorfindel faltered. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened against his will. The roots above them. They were glowing, only softly but unmistakingly.

"Alcanor is calling upon the trees," Legolas whispered in awe. Tears escaped him and ran over his cheeks, but they were not born in desperation or fear or pain, no, they were born in pure and raw awe of the forest. The air vibrated and even Glorfindel could sense the trees' song. Guards shifted, their weapons lowered and forgotten. A few of them knelt, others hurried to higher positions and then the clear sound of an elven voice joined into the soft drum. Soon others followed and then the cavern was filled with music. Soft and solemn at first, but the words became stronger, the voices firm until the warriors sung from deep in their chests, an orchestra filling the air. The glow of the roots intensified and then, from one second to the other, silence descended upon them and the air stood still.


"What in the Valar's name?" Alcanor asked, stepping back, nursing his hand. Lord Erestor stood by his side, the Noldo's hair held back in a firm braid. And in front of him, Lord Glorfindel lowered his gaze from the ceiling high above them. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes but were accompanied with the slight quirk of a lip. Around them were dozens of guards, slowly turning back to him, their posture so proud and strong, Alcanor felt the presence of their people resonate between them. His gaze flickered, took in Falin who was staring at him with wide eyes. Roewen appeared at his side and reached for his hand, her brown eyes full of relief Alcanor did not quite understand. Eyaenne stood a step away, her hands coming to her hips as she sighed, and her head lowered in exhaustion. And besides her, standing next to Lord Glorfindel, was Legolas. His precious baby brother.

Alcanor's sharp glance went from Lord Erestor to Lord Glorfindel. They seemed so out of place, here, in the centre of Mirkwood's power. And not the King had hurried to his aid but these two. And Falin, Legolas, Eyaenne and Roewen seemed to only be focused on him instead of the two elves who had no business being here. He stared at Legolas for a while, still unable to understand even as his heart was singing in his chest.

"Where is the King?" He demanded to know. His fingers tingled, itching to reach for a weapon. He did not want the Noldor here, he did not want them so close to his siblings, did not like the implicitness with which they stood there as if they had any right to be here. He wanted them gone.

"In the healing ward. He is fine, just exhausted. Saving Legolas took great strength." Eyaenne sounded as firm as she always did as she pushed a curl behind her ear and he knew he could count on her, like he always did. And that made her trust into the Noldor even more puzzling.

There was another elf standing beside her. Alcanor's eyes narrowed. He looked the elf up and down. He was wearing woodland clothing, ragged as was the norm for warriors. Though he bore no uniform or armour, his broad shoulders and calloused fingers told Alcanor the elf was an archer. The elf seemed familiar enough for Alcanor to surmise that they had in fact already worked together and it must have been more closely. He cursed the confusion still holding his mind in its iron clutches for he felt as if though he should recognize the warrior. However, maybe he was simply distracted by the fact he was standing so close to his sister and that his hand was behind Eyaenne's back, supporting her with an unobtrusive touch alone. And she let him.

"Who are you and what do you want with my sister?" He all but snarled at the elf, his eyes narrowed.

As expected, Eyaenne rolled her eyes at him. "He hasn't done anything, Al. No need to turn all protective-brother on him."

"Don't call me Al," he sighed but listened and softened his glare. "I would still like to know who he is."

"I am Captain Methelion from Ravenstone Outpost. You yourself asked for me to be promoted there after I served under your command for three years. Though my post has been reassigned to Captain Cinna a few months ago. As for my intentions towards your sister, hir-nin, sometime in the future I shall ask for her hand in marriage."

Eyaenne coughed in surprise, quickly raising a hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes watered, obtaining a slight red tinge as she continued to cough, twisting her upper body towards the side, doubling over. With an amused smile on his face, Methelion turned towards her and brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear before he rubbed over her back in a calming gesture. Meanwhile, Alcanor just found himself blinking and then too shocked to react in any way. Just how long had he been out for? And right, it was Methelion, he remembered him now. A good warrior, courageous, level-headed, strict and quick on his feet. A good leader. The only time he had ever seen him out of uniform had been when the elf had made use of the stretchers for the injured.

Getting a hold of her coughing fit, the wild Princess turned to the elf beside her. "You are what?" She asked, her voice still high pitched and breathless and tears from her coughing fit leaking over her cheeks. She did not even bother wiping them away, instead stared at the calm elf.

Methelion just laughed. "Relax, Eyae. I said sometime in the future. I am most certainly not asking for your hand before I know there is at least a chance you are going to say yes."

Eyaenne stared at the archer for some long seconds, the shock clearly written on her face. She shook her head in disbelief. "You know me too well," she then huffed and Alcanor's brows raised even higher when his sister smiled. He could not help his jaw from dropping when she leant forward and gently kissed the poised archer.

Alcanor turned and saw that Legolas grinned but did not seem surprised at all.

"What in the Valar's name did I miss?" He questioned in disbelief.


Please review!

Very different of my original plan but I love it. I hope you do too. I hope it did not get too repeptitive? What do you think about Lord Erestor's and Glorfindel's contribution? Do you mind that Elrond was not art of the effort?

earthdragon: Yes, Alcanor fought a fight against his own emotions, and without aid, he would never have broken free. Even with Legolas and Thranduil helping him, even with seeing Legolas, it wasn't enough. It needed Glorfindel's light and Erestor's healing skills.

Guest: Your're welcome. I hope you like this one as well

Mystarlight: I am thinking one more chapter. It may be a bit longer but I think I can wrap it up in one. If it gets to long I'll split it though