Author's notes: To everyone who ever believed I had abandoned this fic, behold! I have returned. Two to three more chapters are already waiting in the wings for editing. :) This post is brought to you and/or inspired by several things: (a) A conversation I had with Cheekybeak about darling Lumornon … three years ago now? (b) the indulgence of Roselightfairy (on Ao3), who allowed me to ramble at her for an hour about Legolas' backstory and family dynamics a few days ago, inspiring me to revisit this; (c) a playlist I made to set the vibe for this story back in 2016, before I had even posted the first chapter at all, and which is impressively melancholic; and, finally, (d) the utter despair this first semester of my PhD program has produced in me. Who knew academia could be more soul-crushing than spending every day interviewing children and adults about abuse and assault? Well, it is. I think it may have broken me a bit; feel completely hollow and my sense of self-worth has nose-dived. But at least it has gotten me in the right headspace to write this story again! Glass half full. (…that's not depressing at all. *snorts*)

Anyway, all that being said, my writing style has evolved—for better or worse—since I started this in 2016, as well as my characters... Much of the next few chapters were written in 2016-2017, but this one was written entirely this week. I have tried to keep my writing consistent with the prior chapters, but if the "feel" is a bit different, it is just because I am a different person now than I was four years ago. Alas… time. (Also, thanks to Cheekybeak for giving this a sneakpeak read and catching a few typos in the first draft! Any typos showing up in this version are mine.)

Because it has been over three years since I last posted, some reminders are probably necessary. Summary, characters, and ages are provided below. Chapter below the lines!

Summary up to this point: Legolas' sister, Felavel, is killed horrifically by orcs while Legolas and Ithildim are on a mission. Saida rides out to find their patrol and returns Legolas home. By the time Legolas arrives, his sister has already been "buried," and he finds his family in shambles. His mother, Gwaerain, is distant and plans on sailing, and she wants Legolas and his younger sister Piniriel to come with her. Over the next few days, Legolas' mother displays continuedly worrying behavior, trying to guilt Legolas into leaving with her, shaming him for returning to work, telling him that he will die if he continues to serve the wood. Legolas is not sure whether the change in his mother's behavior is real or whether his perception is warped by stress. However, Ithildim and Saida notice and plan to bring up their concerns with him. However, after returning from his first mission after Felavel's death, he has a confrontation with his mother before his friends have approached him. It spirals out of control and Gwaerain chokes Legolas in an acute grief-related psychotic episode and leaves him unconscious in his room, running desperate for help and searching for her son Lumornon. Healer Anaron arrives and takes care of Legolas, and Gwaerain is whisked away to her rooms. Legolas has one instance of serious trouble with his breathing as a result of the swelling to his airways, and then all is resolved, healthwise. However, his family has begun doubting their ability to move forward from this, and Thranduil's councilors disagree on the best way to deal with Gwaerain and Legolas in the aftermath of her assault. Legolas is left to deal with much of his own feelings on his own, and his friends and family prepare to tell him that he must tell someone what happened—beyond the obvious—and stop holding his silence.

Character list:

Thranduil- Legolas' father and Elvenking (…duh)

Gwaerain- Legolas' mother and the queen

Lumornon- eldest child and Legolas' older brother

Felavel- Legolas' older sister; recently deceased

Piniriel- youngest of the four siblings and still quite wee

Lostariel- Legolas' captain and best friend to Lumornon

Amonhir- Lostariel's second and Legolas' captain

Thelion- Thranduil's primary diplomatic advisor

Ithildim- Legolas' best friend and agemate

Saida- Legolas and Ithildim's dear friend and agemate

Anaron- Lead healer and Ithildim's father

Orodiel- Anaron's wife and Ithildim's mother

Aergwen- Lead heart healer (mental health)

Note on ages (pasted from chapter one): There are four children in the family. Lumornon, the eldest male, was born in TA253; Felavel, the eldest female, was born in TA484. There is an arguably unusual gap between siblings here. Legolas was born in TA1744, and his youngest sister, Piniriel, in TA1869. For this story, I follow the "come of age at 50," "mature around 100" guideline for elves, based in LACE. Thus, Legolas is quite young in this story, approximately 128 years old; his younger sister is three—a very new addition to Mirkwood.

Updated note on ages: I don't usually like providing "human equivalents" for elves once they come of age, because I imagine their sense of time and their familial relationships really impact that equivalence individually, and ageing probably happens in ways, besides, that we cannot truly comprehend... That being said, I do think it is worth pointing out that, when I say Legolas is a very young adult at 128 years old, I mean to imply that he, Ithildim, and Saida are roughly somewhere between 17 and 20 in human years. Old enough to be their own people, have significant responsibilities, and an ability to understand some complex, grey, and nuanced situations; but very much still young enough to be well-enmeshed in their family roles and a little rash at times (in entirely developmentally-appropriate ways). I have likely overthought this and am happy to provide more historical and developmental contexts for my reasoning, but I hope that this brief explanation helps moving forward, nonetheless. :)

Part III:

Chapter Fourteen

After noontime, a few hours after the last chapter

Lumornon readjusted the satchel that crossed his body, stuffed full of reports he had shuffled from room to room throughout the morning—as various people from various councils had handed him various things intermittently—and heavy, too, with a set of books he had found in Felavel's rooms the night before that he thought Legolas might enjoy. He weaved around one of his father's councilors, who was engaged in a lively but whispered debate with Aergwen and not paying anyone else much mind, though Aergwen did throw Lumornon a vaguely apologetic look as he dodged them. His family's quarters had never buzzed quite so fully.

Lumornon was well and truly frowning by the time he reached Legolas' door at the far end of the hall, for he dreaded what he would have to tell his younger brother when he entered. He had been kept busy with their father the past day and he had not spent as much time with Legolas as he thought appropriate, given the situation (especially since Legolas was not doing particularly well in spirit, at least from what he had gathered from Healer Anaron). It felt cruel, then, that this—the first time he hoped to visit with him truly and properly since he had awoken and, really, even since Felavel had died—would inevitably be soured by the news he brought, something he would give anything, as his older brother, to shield him from but… It was out of his hands.

Lumornon arrived at the door, shook out his hands, settled his mind, and raised a fist to knock. The rap sounded shallow and short.

There was no response.

He adjusted his satchel and then knocked again, but harder. There was still no response, and then, when he pressed his ear to the door, he heard no sound from within—no shift of blankets, no scratching of pen, no indication whatsoever that his brother had heard him or was inside at all…

While he knew it most likely that Legolas simply slept, he had recently been haunted day and night—first by witnessing his sister's ghastly return, and now—standing outside Legolas' door as he had those few days ago, only to open it, then, and find his brother seemingly dead and still but then gasping—

Lumornon fumbled with the latches of his satchel and patted around in the bottom of the bag for the extra key to Legolas' room that he had been keeping on his person these past few days. Usually, it hung on a hook in his parents' sitting room—with copies of his own room key, Felavel's, Piniriel's, his father's study, his study, et cetera—but he had taken Legolas and Piniriel's keys from their hooks that day they had locked Gwaerain inside, and he did not intend on putting them back any time soon.

His hand found the cold steel of the key crunched at a corner of one of Felavel's books, and he quickly slipped it into the lock, pushed in the door, and stared at the scene in front of him.

He blinked.

It was strange, yes, but much less disturbing than the scene he had walked into the last time he opened Legolas' door without warning, so he only pursed his lips, stepped quietly inside, and shut the door behind him.

There, on the floor of his room—in that stretch of space between bed and wall, on the small blue rug that rolled its length—Legolas lay asleep, curled loosely on his side. One stockinged foot pressed against the wood of his sidetable, and he cushioned his head with his upper arm; his legs were bare under his nightshirt and the sweater he wore over it bunched up at his ribs. If the situation had been different, Lumornon would have found this humorous and intensely endearing but, as it was…

He dropped his satchel to the ground and crouched beside his brother, watching the gentle rise and fall of Legolas' side as he deeply slept. He knew waking him up would startle him, but he also knew Legolas really ought not be sleeping on a hard floor right now, even as hardy as he was. He frowned and reached a hand out to stroke the hair tied in a loose knot atop his head—

"Legolas."

There was no response.

"Legolas," he said again, and he rubbed a thumb over his cheek as he spoke.

Legolas raised a hand to brush away the touch, but he did not otherwise stir.

Lumornon huffed, and fell back onto his rear as he watched his brother, who had tucked his hand under his chin and was now frowning in his sleep. Lumornon glanced to the medicine sitting on the bedside table and saw that it looked like he had recently had one of his tinctures, and he wondered if that was causing this somnolence.

He tried rousing Legolas one more time before rising and heading back to the door, creaking it open and sticking out his head—he saw his father's key diplomatic advisor, Thelion, at the far end of the hall, and waved him over. Thelion was one of the few elves that had traveled with Thranduil, Oropher, and his grandmother from Doriath all those years ago, and he always made Lumornon feel rather young and insignificant, despite his own skill, tended as it was under Thelion's very hand.

"Are you meeting with my father?" he asked quietly, as Thelion came even with him at Legolas' door.

Thelion nodded.

"Could you tell him, please, that I will be talking with Legolas about the Board's decision, but that he is currently sleeping, so I will be otherwise engaged for a few hours?"

Thelion nodded again, and adjusted the sleeve of his robes. "He will want you back to the council room for dinner. We are meeting with the captains."

Lumornon closed his eyes for just a moment and held in the sigh that pushed at the back of his teeth, but he composed himself and nodded, too. "I will be there."

Thelion turned to walk away, and Lumornon was already slipping back through the door when Thelion stopped him with just his name—long bronze robes swirled about him and he stood for a moment in silence as they settled.

Lumornon stared and let Legolas' door shut quietly behind him.

"Yes?"

Thelion adjusted his sleeve again and then met Lumornon's eye. "I should tell you," he finally said, and he looked for a moment more unmoored than Lumornon had ever seen in all the years they had worked together. "You know how critical I have been of Legolas' intuitions for diplomacy, how I have downplayed his significant woodland skills, because he frustrates me."

Lumornon raised an eyebrow, but nodded, and acknowledged quietly, "You are not the only one frustrated by him, even in the woods—have you spoken to Captain Amonhir?"

A corner of Thelion's mouth twitched upward for a moment before he continued. "I—"

Thelion paused and swallowed, and Lumornon's mind hummed with confusion at such uncharacteristic wordlessness.

"I have—" Thelion started again. "I would be remiss to not take this opportunity to tell you that what has happened is a tragedy, and so soon after Felavel… She was—she was who Legolas might have grown into, and that is not insignificant."

Lumornon frowned at the choice of verb tense, and his hand drifted to the handle of the door behind him.

"And I would not have you or anyone carry any inclination," Thelion continued quickly and quietly, but with firm assurance, "that my disapproval of Legolas'…" he tilted his head to the side, as if thinking of the kindest way to say what he meant. "Of Legolas' peculiarities," he continued, "affect at all how I approach this situation now."

"Well," Lumornon said stiffly. "Father knows that."

"Yes," Thelion said immediately. "Of course, he does, Thranduil knows my very mind, but… But I am not sure that you do, and I would have you know that your family is more important to me than your father and grandfather, than your own considerable skills in diplomacy and strategy, that even the… Even those I have perhaps implied are the least of you are, nevertheless, dear to me."

Lumornon swallowed and found his hand going to the back of his neck to massage it tensely, the nervous tell that had emerged as a child under Thelion's tutelage. "I—"

Thelion inclined his head toward Lumornon slightly. "Legolas is a wood-elf." And then he shrugged, in a way that only he—as Sindarin as he still carried himself—could manage after such a confession. "And when I came here many years ago now—when I was taken in by these folk—that is what I committed myself to, children such as he… And I am sorry I allowed myself to forget that." He was quiet for a moment. "So, if there is anything that I might do—"

Lumornon held up a hand, and Thelion fell immediately silent. "I will, of course, tell you, my lord. Thank you. For now, we need only your continued wisdom."

Thelion nodded, and then turned again down the hallway, so abruptly that his robes spun like skirts at a dance, lit by firelight.

Lumornon watched him go, and he ran a hand down his face, before shaking out his hands, and shouldering Legolas' door open abruptly.

He entered, sat on the floor, and leaned against the wall, just a few feet away from his still and peacefully slumbering little brother. He pulled out a sheaf of papers from his satchel, focused his eyes on the script with purposeful attention, and he waited.

Legolas began to wake slowly, not even an hour later, rolling onto his back in his sleep before laying an arm across his face as he stirred. Lumornon watched and rearranged his paperwork, and then tidied it and slipped it back into his bag. He did not move to hurry his brother's waking, and so he simply sat against the wall and watched.

There was a slowness about Legolas that was not usually there, a caution even in stirring that Lumornon had never seen before, for Legolas was usually wind and water, like the first flakes flown and stirring with an approaching storm.

The door beside him opened almost silently, and Lumornon looked up to see Anaron stood there, a pouch clasped in his hand and a ledger and pen held to his chest.

He smiled at Lumornon when he entered and then quietly crossed in a few steps until he was knelt at Legolas' side. He moved his brother's arm away from his face with gentle hands, and then turned his head minutely from side to side at the chin as Legolas still slowly stirred.

"I try to check him over while he is sleeping, for the superficial things," Anaron explained absently, sensing Lumornon's gaze on his back. "It makes him nervous to be under such prolonged scrutiny."

Lumornon made a sound of affirmation. "Does it not startle him to wake with you poking and peering?"

Anaron sat back on his heels and turned toward Lumornon, and he shrugged. "He has told me that, when he is sleeping, my energy feels like Ithildim's, but…old."

Lumornon laughed, and Anaron waved his hand airily as he turned back to Legolas and pressed gently at his throat, ran a hand down the length of his trachea.

"You know how they are, those two," Anaron said distractedly, and then he was pressing gently out along shoulders and around to the back of his neck.

Legolas had stirred himself into consciousness now, and a hand immediately rose to his neck and touched it lightly, cradling it almost protectively as he opened his eyes. Lumornon felt a pang in his chest as Legolas focused blearily on Anaron, and another as he blinked himself completely awake, a slow smile cracking his face to see his healer so near. Lumornon suddenly realized he had been there but once in all the times these past two days Legolas must have woken here, alone, in the quiet of this room where his mother had broken upon him like waves, alone, just days before. His brother should not have had to seek such comfort in his healer and his friends, when he had family yet living around him, even shattered as they were now…

Legolas moved to sit up and Anaron took him at the arm to steady him as he leaned against the bed.

"Look here," Anaron directed quietly, and Lumornon watched as Legolas followed Anaron's directions, eyes tracking weakly in his bruise-speckled face as Anaron trailed a finger from side to side. Eventually, Legolas closed his eyes and pressed a hand to one eye, rubbing it fiercely.

"You are doing well," Anaron said quietly, with a tender touch of the hand to his brother's temple. "Now, look, but use your head, not your eyes."

And then Lumornon watched as his brother slowly swiveled his neck to follow Anaron's hand, stopping abruptly when it went too far to the right, the side that Lumornon now knew—from having read too many details of Anaron's very detailed medical reports for Lostariel's very thorough inquiry—had been the side most impacted by the initial damage to his throat, apart from the shaking and thumping that Anaron suggested was likely to have happened to exacerbate it all, as well…

Lumornon's stomach quivered for a moment with nausea, and he looked down at his hands as Anaron shifted Legolas slightly and pushed at his sweater, so he could reach the base of his neck. He warmed salve in his hands and then began working, gently but firmly, at the over-tense muscles at the top of his back.

"This will pass," Anaron was saying in a whisper, and Legolas' eyes were closed again as he relaxed under Anaron's touch, though Lumornon could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek, the way he often did when managing a pain. "And soon we will start paying more attention to that head of yours. Return your thoughts to the riotous speed you prefer. How does that sound?"

Lumornon smiled as he watched Legolas drift off again, slipping limp against Anaron for a fraction of a moment before startling, clearing his throat, and answering— "I would like that, Anaron." There was a pause, a cough. "Someone needs to keep Ithildim on his toes, I think."

"Indeed." And Anaron was smiling now, too, wiping his hands on a rag at his belt, lifting up Legolas' sweater.

He pressed an ear to his brother's back and Lumornon saw him tap at his shoulder to cue deep breathing, to which Legolas immediately responded. There was silence in the room then, apart from that measured and controlled rhythm, for nearly a minute, and Lumornon felt some part of himself intensely reassured as he listened.

Legolas coughed once as Anaron pulled away, but the healer did not seem overly concerned. He finally shifted back around to Legolas' front and peered into his eyes, and while one was still bloodshot and tearing with irritation, they were otherwise grey and bright as normal, if not muted in their eagerness and slow with their wit.

"I will be taking you off the last of the sedatives now, Legolas," Anaron said, sitting back, "so you should find yourself sleeping less by tomorrow. I will leave an updated list of your new medicines, and someone will deliver the new diluted tinctures you will be taking instead of that one." He nodded at the jar of medicine on his bedside table. "But you will still want to use the marshmallow and willow one, in your icebox—and your valerian root—throughout the day, as needed."

Lumornon watched Legolas listening to Anaron speak with a glazing expression on his face, but before Lumornon could step in to point out that he thought, perhaps, Legolas was not entirely awake enough yet to remember all these things—

"Do not worry, child," Anaron said with a smile. "I have written it all down," and he patted the notebook beside him, "and Ithildim will go over it with you again when he and Saida come by this evening."

Legolas sat up straighter at that, and Anaron was tapping the side of Legolas' neck and then the crown of his head. "And once these things have taken care of themselves, I will quit with harassing you."

Legolas laughed and Lumornon raised an eyebrow, for he had not heard Legolas so much as chuckle since the week before he left on patrol, when he had passed him one morning in the corridor, swinging Piniriel about, on his way to the barracks.

"I would rather you harass me than anyone else," his brother was answering quietly.

Anaron smiled and stood, ruffling Legolas' hair gently before picking up the pouch he had walked into the room with, gesturing with it and then tossing it onto Legolas' bed. "To help with bracing your neck at night. It will make it more comfortable. Ithildim knows how to use it, and I understand he has been here in the evenings?"

Legolas nodded and Anaron turned to Lumornon. "Have you any questions?" Lumornon shook his head. "May I do anything for you?" Lumornon shook his head again.

Anaron turned back to Legolas for a final time, "Shall I send Aergwen?"

Legolas had been plucking absently at a dropped stitch in his sweater while listening to Lumornon and Anaron talk, but he stilled and looked up sharply at the question—

"No," he said quickly. "I do not want to speak to her."

Lumornon felt his heart catch in his chest and he held in another sigh.

"All right," Anaron said kindly. "Your soul is heavy, though, Legolas, and it will weigh down your body in its healing. So." He paused for a moment. "Think on it."

Legolas only hmmed, and Anaron rather poorly disguised a smile before he continued. "Well, I will see you early in the morning, then, and we will have to do a full inventory in addition to this usual, so get some rest. But call for me—either of you—should you need anything, at any time at all."

And then Anaron had tucked his ledger into his belt, slid his pen behind his ear, and slipped quietly away and out the door.

Lumornon made a decision then, almost immediately, not to talk to Legolas about the Superior Board of Councilors' vote that afternoon. He would wait to break that over him in the morning, for Legolas had been doing an awful lot of weathering recently, and it seemed to him that he could might use a break, a moment of reprieve spent quietly between brothers, as empty as it might feel without Felavel jockeying for position between them.

Lumornon stood up from his spot on the floor, and straightened his sleeves and collar. When he glanced back up from his hands, though, he found Legolas watching him with eyes suddenly sharp and assessing.

"They want me to talk, do they not?" he asked flatly.

Lumornon knew dissembling with him was useless—as hopeless as Thelion found Legolas' diplomatic skills, he possessed an uncanny ability to read a person, or an entire room, with unnervingly little effort. (Which in retrospect, he realized, he maybe should have paid more attention to, regarding their mother...)

"They do," Lumornon simply affirmed.

Legolas tucked locks of escaped hair behind his ears and fixed Lumornon with a steady glare. "I will not do it, brother."

Lumornon tilted his head to the side and took a step toward him, before gently taking him at the elbows and pulling him to his feet. Legolas clambered onto the bed and sank back against the headboard, turning slightly into one of his stacks of pillows so he was gently cushioned, and he watched Lumornon with stubbornness, but warily.

A moment passed, before Lumornon finally spoke.

"You and I will talk about it tomorrow," he said simply, and he crossed back to the door for his satchel. He rummaged around in it, pushing past the papers until his hands wrapped about the two thick books he had brought for Legolas. "I shall simply tell them that they will have to wait until then, at the least."

When he turned back round with the books clutched tight, he was shocked, but pleased, by the warmth of the smile that had lit his brother's weary face, and he smiled in amusement, too, as Legolas sank more fully into the pillows with clearly overwhelming relief.

"I have brought you something of Felavel's," he continued casually. "Her books on wildflowers and herblore of the Southern Woods." He held them up, and he laughed to see Legolas' eyebrows rise with immediate interest. Lumornon sat on the edge of the bed and pressed them gently into his brother's hands.

There was quiet for nearly a minute as Legolas stared at the books, and then his fingers started tracing the fraying green cloth that bound the spine of the topmost. The silence finally broke as Legolas cleared his throat and shifted slightly.

"Lumornon," he said with querying tone, and he looked up then, tentatively. "Do you think you might stay for a while?"

And Lumornon was so caught, for a moment, in the intensity of imploring need shining suddenly and stark from his brother's young but disturbingly clear gaze that he forced himself first to breathe properly—to steady himself—before reassuring. He swallowed.

"Of course, emlineg," he eventually said, in a rushed exhale, and then he moved almost immediately as if to join him on the bed—

But then he froze, and breathed a great deep breath, for he had only then realized what name he had used in his response, that one his mother had given Legolas as a very small thing, that all his family still called him, but that he had abruptly requested—as he lay heaving on his bed, energy nervous and flittering, blood smeared on his hands and sweat on his face, as Lumornon hovered at his side, comforting, trying not to panic, desperate for anyone's arrival, anyone at all—that he no longer be called…

He turned back around, and bit his lip, and dropped himself slowly to Legolas' level. "I am sorry," he said quietly, and he watched his brother's face carefully. "May I still call you that, or—?"

Legolas glanced away, fingers tightening at the edges of the books, and he answered then with an air of casualness that Lumornon knew was likely to be taking marked and concerted effort—

"You may call me that." And then he looked back to meet Lumornon's eyes. "But not in front of anyone, please, and I do not want to hear it from anyone else at all, especially her."

Lumornon nodded and offered calmly: "Would you like to talk about it?"

Legolas raised his eyebrows and looked almost as if he might laugh, as if that question were the most ridiculous he had ever encountered. "I absolutely would not like that, Lumornon."

Lumornon chuckled and Legolas smiled, too, and his eyes trailed Lumornon as he rounded to the other side of the bed so he could sit on it properly. Once there, he leaned up against the headboard quite near his brother, and he pulled one of the books out of Legolas' hands and cracked it to the front page—

"Shall I read aloud then?"

Legolas nodded, and turned himself a little more so he was just inches away from Lumornon's shoulder, and he peered down onto the pages below. There was the title of the manuscript—Flora and Flowers of Northern Rhovanion—set in sturdy, Tengwar-printed Westron in the center of the page. But below it, near the bottom, was Felavel's messy—yet somehow always perfectly legible— scrawl:

Felavel Gwaeraniel – please return to officer barracks if found.

Lumornon felt Legolas gasp a deep and heavy breath beside him, and the shaky exhale caught at his collar and played with his hair as Legolas pressed himself almost imperceptibly closer.

Lumornon found himself blinking unexpectedly.

He had lived a life alongside Felavel for nearly 1,400 years—and it had only been… Two weeks, three? Only weeks since his sister had left them, but it felt already like he had lived the span of his life twice over—

"Will you skip to the section about Springtime?" Legolas asked quietly, and Lumornon's thoughts were pulled up abruptly as Legolas paused to swallow roughly, cough into his shoulder. "And can you—could you maybe not read it in Westron?"

Lumornon glanced down at him with a smile, and he nearly started laughing at so ingenuously mundane a request, despite the cold grief that burrowed in his chest and snaked incessantly about his heart. He flipped quickly to the middle of the book and found a section starting with trillium and snowdrops, and he prepared to read.

"But just this once, emlineg," he clarified quietly, and he dropped a kiss to his brother's impressively unkempt hair, and Legolas did not even bother with batting it away, or pretending he was too much an adult for such affection. "Under these circumstances—and these circumstances only—will I not make you practice your Common."

And Legolas snorted with amusement into the pillow, tucked a hand under his chin so he was anchored and steady. He pressed himself up against his brother's shoulder, and then Lumornon began to read.

They stayed like that, reading about boring and everyday beauty, until Ithildim and Saida arrived with Legolas' dinner, and Thelion came to drag Lumornon back to council.

All these things, Lumornon thought, as he followed Thelion's swirling robes, walking away from Legolas' room, from which he could still hear Ithildim's laughter burst from behind the closing door, could hear the clatter of bowls as Saida made settings for them on the room's cold floor—

All these things beyond his control… They were out of his hands.

And older brother though he was, he could not stop entirely what had been set in motion by the vote, and the Board would not at all be pleased that he had pushed back the timeline without consulting them…

But he had given Legolas a moment of peace in the midst of all of this untenable nonsense, and he was more than prepared—more than willing and certainly eager—to answer for that.

Thank you for reading! And for your patience! Please consider leaving a review on the way out.