Summary: With Legolas and his patrol pinned down and in need of help, Thranduil takes it upon himself to lead the rescue effort, but father and son may not both make it home unscathed.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkien, I just like to play in his world.

Author's Note: Hey there! Sorry for disappearing for a while! I have a couple of chapters in the works for In the Healing Halls, but they're not quite ready yet. This was originally supposed to be another chapter for that collection, but it grew too big to be a one shot. This one is four chapters long, including the prologue. A big thank you to realSkyEyes for the inspiration for this story—I hope you're reading and enjoy it! Regarding the story's title, fidelity is defined as faithfulness to a person, cause, or belief, demonstrated by continuing loyalty and support. This is a quality that I believe defines both Legolas and Thranduil and guides their decision-making. Onto the story!

Prologue

Thranduil stared at the letter on his desk. It had been written in haste as was the case for so many of the missives that came from the warriors in the south.

Already, he'd read the letter so many times that he had it memorized. He resisted the temptation to read it again; reading it again would not change the message. It would still be unwelcome news.

The king had alerted his council to be ready to meet first thing in the morning. He had told one of the few officers in the stronghold to prepare a fresh patrol to leave shortly after the council meeting.

Plans had been put into place—not by the council, not by his captains, but by him. He was aware that his council and his captains would disagree with him. He did not care. He was the king, it was his decision, and it was already made.

Unable to resist any longer, he picked up the letter again. It confirmed what they had suspected for days now, that the patrol led by Legolas was in trouble.

For weeks, no communication had been received from him. There had been no sign or word of his patrol. It was common enough for patrols to go silent for periods of time. But not like this—not for so long and without warning. When this happened, it usually did not end well.

But twenty elves didn't just disappear without a trace. It was not possible that they had all been captured, that no sign or clue as to what had happened to them would remain. If nothing else, there would be remains, though the king tried not to let his thoughts stray to those possibilities.

The letter explained how, after an extensive search, unusual orc activity had been detected. Further investigation by elven scouts had yielded evidence that the orcs had cut off Legolas' patrol. They hadn't been able to confirm the condition of the patrol, but it was believed that some of them, maybe even most of them, were still alive. It appeared that the orcs intended to keep them separated from reinforcements, besiege and weaken them, and then attempt to eliminate them.

Part of Thranduil burned with fierce pride. The orcs should fear Legolas and the elves he led, they should be wary of attacking even a lone and trapped elven patrol.

But another part of him, a much bigger part, was terrified. Because no matter how fiercely Legolas fought, this was a bad situation. He would be running out of supplies soon. Undoubtedly, he had wounded; he might even be wounded himself. Thranduil didn't want to consider that he might be gone. They had no means of escape from their situation.

They needed help.

And he was going to lead the rescue mission.

The next day, Thranduil was seated on his horse at the head of a contingent of his warriors. He wore nothing to indicate his true station, only his position amongst the warriors signaled that he was of a higher rank.

Nonetheless, the warriors around him were all on high alert, arguably more so than was necessary for how close to the stronghold they were. It was rare for their king to lead them into battle.

Early that morning he had informed first his councilors, then the captains, of his plan. He would lead their warriors south. He would take them first to a camp that was well defended by the elves, and from there they would strike swiftly and make their way to Legolas, bringing him the reinforcements and supplies that he no doubt needed. Then, together, king and prince would press their advantage and return north.

His councilors had reacted much as he had expected, sitting in stunned silence for a few moments, and then erupting into fierce debate.

Their arguments against his going were numerous and expected. They had asked who would handle his duties when he was away with Prince Legolas also out of the stronghold. Out of the stronghold, they had said, as though their prince was out on a walk and not under siege. They had asked what would become of the line of succession if neither of them returned. They had asked why he, the king, had to go, when there were still experienced warriors in the stronghold who were capable of providing reinforcements to Legolas and those under his command.

He had answers for all of their questions, not that he felt he should have to answer them as the king: A regent would be appointed who would handle his affairs until his return. He had no intention of failing and they would both return soon. And if they didn't, the people would rally around their deaths and move on; the kingdom would not fall even if they did. And finally, he had to go because he had decided to go, and his word was final.

At least, that was the answer he gave to their last question of why he had to go. And his answer was true, but it wasn't complete.

The whole truth was that he had to go because if Legolas was lost, there was no hope for him. They did not understand how close this realm had come to losing him after the death of his wife. Had it not been for Legolas, he would never have survived that. If Legolas was lost now, there was no hope for him, no future for him.

To save Legolas was to save himself.

That was what was best for his realm. For all of the trust he had in his warriors, he could not trust anyone else to lead this mission.

So, he had appointed an acting regent and left.

His captains had reacted with different, but equally predictable concerns.

They had expressed their opinions more cautiously. The captains worked far more often with his son than they did with him, and were not so comfortable with confronting him as his councilors.

The revelation of his plan was met with sidelong glances shared between them and careful queries about whether it would not perhaps be more prudent for one of them to lead reinforcements. They offered praise for his plan (which was truly nothing save for the most obvious of solutions), then gentle urging at a change in personnel, and assurances that they would not fail him.

But he was not just a king. He had not been raised only to handle the politics of his realm. He was a battle-hardened warrior. True, he had stepped back from that role since becoming king, and even more so since Legolas had become a warrior, but he had not forgotten how to lead his people in this way and his skills with a sword had not waned.

"My king," a captain who had been riding behind him caught up to him, pulling him from his reveries.

"Do not call me that here," Thranduil responded.

"My apologies, my…" the captain paused, uncertain, and then continued awkwardly, "we should arrive at the camp soon."

The king nodded his approval, "Excellent. I want that stop to be brief. We will get any updated intelligence they have and then ride out as soon as possible."

"Of course," the captain nodded to him in lieu of using his title and slipped back into the line.

The king's expression was grim. Hang on, Legolas, he thought, help is coming. I am coming.

The king's patrol was greeted with shock when they arrived at the elven encampment that was nearest to Legolas' expected position. The elf in charge, a lieutenant who was rising quickly through the warriors' ranks, recovered quickly enough and immediately offered her assistance to the king.

He wasted no time. Within minutes of arriving, he was pouring over maps, studying the terrain, and gathering the most recent intelligence on their enemies' numbers.

They spent less than three hours in the camp before mounting and riding out again. Whatever was to happen, it would happen now.

End Note: That's all for now. Because the prologue was short, I'm going to try to upload the next chapter before the weekend. I'd love to hear what you think, please leave a review! Happy holidays!