- Chapter 66 -


He drew in a deep breath and released it in a quiet sigh. Staring out at the dark fields that stretched before him, he allowed a small frown to grace his lips. Reaching into his tunic, he withdrew the piece of parchment and held it before him. The gentle scroll of the familiar handwriting in black ink made the worry of his findings only grow. The light of the moon was the only reason he pulled out the letter; that, and he wanted to look upon it once more. His discovery was grand and yet, deftly unsettling.

Opening the letter, he used the brightness of the moon and his keen elvish eyesight to read the script once more. He had the words memorized by now. From the moment he set his fingers upon it, it looked like a genuine letter and he almost believed it himself. Upon further investigation, he came to the conclusion that while it held three of the most significant factors of a well written letter, the most obvious one was in plain sight.

Folding it up carefully, he tucked it back inside his tunic for safe keeping and settled against the tree he sat beside to continue his watch. In a few short hours, the sun would rise and another day would pass, but not quickly enough. While his companion was remarkably quiet, it took quite a bit of convincing on his part to ensure this was the right move. After all, what better evidence was there than physical?

He turned his head slightly, his keen eyes shifting over the sleeping form of the elf he found himself traveling with. He was an excellent negotiator, having spent countless hours and years beside one of the finest in the world; learning, listening, and admiring the intricate details that went into a well formulated plan.

The only problem, was determining all of the factors that went in to such a plot. He had his suspicions - he was sure others did too - but the evidence?

One piece lay against his breast, the second lay huddled under the cover of the grey traveling cloak. The executor was skillfully hidden within the walls of his very home, bidding their time before a simple slip up would lead the offender toward a heavy and severe punishment.

Feren wasn't the sort of elf who enjoyed the punishment of others, but in this case, when it was so closely associated to his heart, he would watch it unfold without blinking.


An eerie creak from above forced him to turn on his heel. He swung the blade with an accuracy that was only achieved from thousands of years of practice. The blade itself was a simple extension of his arm, and the matching one he gripped in his left hand was the same. Equally, they felled the plump spider and he watched the separated halves fall to the ground feet apart from the other.

With a sickening twitching motion, the hairy legs twitched and he held his breath as a foul stench reached his nose. He turned away, ready to take on the next target but when he only saw Tinnion standing a few yards away looking around carefully, he allowed himself to straighten and do the same. His keen eyes took in the surrounding woods with a wary gaze, looking further than a normal human's eye could see, allowing him to spot any movement that could potentially lead him to his next kill.

No more spiders were moving, much to his satisfaction, and aside from the shifting of his fellow troops, the trees were silent. Twisting the twin blades around, he sheathed them and repositioned his bow across his back so it settled better on his frame. The dark grey cloak he wore shifted as he stepped toward his soldier, and Tinnion met him with a short and curt nod of his head before sheathing his own sword.

"Are you injured, my Lord?" Tinnion asked with a frown. The splatter of blood across the Prince's chest would have made any of his soldiers question the Prince's health.

With a shake of his head, Legolas turned to look at a spider he felled earlier. "Nay, it is just the effects of slicing a head off at an odd angle."

Tinnion followed his gaze and his eyebrows rose. "Indeed, it looks as if you meant to slice half of its face off."

Legolas grimaced. "It attempted to sneak up on me while I was busy elsewhere."

"Either way," Tinnion nodded firmly. "Dead is dead and you are well, that is what counts the most."

"Agreed."

Snatching up arrows as he walked, Sidhel approached them and tucked his finds back inside the quiver on his back. "This was a larger nest than previous ones."

Leogolas nodded solemnly. "I am afraid you are right."

"Perhaps it will serve as a warning not to tread upon our borders," Tinnion said hopefully, glancing about at the carcasses. Legolas was not so convinced.

"Our efforts have never worked before, why should they now?" he said, and both Tinnion and Sidhel looked over at him curiously.

Daugon, the northern marchwarden of the Woodland Realm, joined them only a moment later. A slight scratch upon his cheek was all that seemed to be physically wrong with the guard but Legolas still frowned nonetheless.

"Was that from a spider?" he questioned, and Daugon shook his head.

"The fat one you just killed brought down a branch with him as he came, and the branch caught me on the cheek just as I was finishing my own kill," Daugon said, bringing his fingers up to lightly touch the red mark.

Nodding, Legolas seemed satisfied by his answer. Any injuries regarding the spiders were taken with heavy amounts of caution. The poison in the spiders bites could be fatal to even an elf if not treated properly. He knew that from experience.

The rest of his patrol was scattered around the surrounding woods, double checking their handiwork. Daugon's own patrol members helped with grim faces. The spiders did not have a nest in this part of the woods, but by the looks of it they were migrating into the area. That thought alone concerned the Prince as he watched his troops scour the area.

His eyes landed on one particular elf, and he felt a frown tug at the corners of his mouth. He had not seen the ellon in years, at least, not since his banishment from the halls of the Woodland Realm. Daugon and Sidhel followed the Prince's hardened gaze. Legolas sent Tinnion away with a pointed look, and the guard disappeared into the forest with the rest of his fellow soldiers.

"How has Nathanar been tending to his duties?" Legolas asked quietly, so only the two lingering elves could hear. Sidhel crossed his arms over his chest, and Daugon shrugged a shoulder.

"He has tended to them well, my Lord," Daugon reassured him. "As have the other two."

Legolas nodded. "Their sentence is almost up. Have you considered who will replace them?"

Daugon peered over at one of the elves in question, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I have. With your approval, they will be ready when the time comes."

"Good. I am sure whomever you have chosen will fit in well, unless you wished to keep them on?" Legolas looked at Daugon out of the corner of his eye curiously, but the marchwarden shook his head.

"Nay, I believe the King will be reassigning them elsewhere. None of them have confessed their desires to stay with the patrol, though they have served me well and dutifully. Nathanar is eager to return to his wife and daughter."

"I am sure they are eager to see him as well," Legolas replied quietly. His memories took him back to that day inside the Realm hours after the dwarves escaped, when he bore witness to the mishandling of the Princess. He vividly recalled the blood upon her hand and the fear in her eyes when she looked up at him from her spot on the ground. He recalled how she recoiled away from his touch, and it sent a pang of sorrow and anger through him. She should never have been treated that way. She should never have had to feel so frightened. His fists clenched around his bow a little tighter.

Father should have given them ten years, he thought bitterly, then turned away from gazing at Nathanar. It would do him no good to dwell upon hurtful memories.

"When do you return to the King?" asked Daugon, breaking the silence that suddenly surrounded them.

"I am to return within five nights," Legolas said.

"You have already been gone from the halls a month now, unless I am mistaken?" asked Daugon curiously.

"You would be correct. I cannot seem to stay put for more than a few days it seems."

"The demands for the Prince are never ending my Lord, and we thank you for your aid."

Legolas knew Daugon and his patrolmen were appreciative of the aid. When word reached the Realm that help was requested for the decimation of both orcs and spiders, Legolas and his company dispatched at once. Now, the forest was just a little bit clearer without the evil creatures living within its shadows, but still not completely vacant of them.

"You are most welcome, mellon nin," Legolas replied firmly. "Perhaps now you and your troops will get some well deserved rest."

Daugon laughed softly and clasped Legolas on the shoulder. "My Lord, I believe we are all in need of proper rest." Then, Daugon took his leave and disappeared back up into the canopy of the trees where his own second in command awaited new orders.

Legolas turned to Sidhel, and the Prince frowned. "What ails you?"

Sidhel looked up from the ground and blinked, as if the Prince interrupted some very deep thoughts. "I am merely recalling the orcs we slaughtered nigh on two nights ago. They remind me very much of the ones we battled in Erebor."

Legolas nodded, quietly agreeing. "They are very similar. Dol Guldur has been cleared of orcs and the enemy has been banished into the east."

"Our problems have only become someone else's."

"Yes," Legolas sighed, then tilted his head to the woods. "Come, we have a long march ahead of us."

Sidhel followed, raising his chin and squaring his shoulders once more, anxious to return to the King's halls.


A soft layer of snow covered the forest floor but his boots hardly made an indent in the white layer. Though spring had arrived and the trees were waking up from their long winter slumber, seeing snow upon the ground wasn't completely uncommon. Moving into the trees, the wood-elves barely made any sound as they scaled the branches of the great trees easily, as if they themselves were part of the canopy that covered their movement.

A month had passed since his last return to the halls of his father after his lengthy trip to Erebor, and six weeks since the departure of Feren. He cursed the distance between the two elvish realms silently, wishing he'd been the one chosen for the task to disburse to Lothlorien instead. He understood why he wasn't chosen, but the sting of it still bit into him with an agonizing ache. Feren should be back by now, or arriving soon. Dozens of questions and concerns flooded his mind as the days passed. How had she taken to Feren's arrival? What was her excuse for not responding? Why the lengthy silence?

A year.

That was how long he waited to hear back from her. Had he been allowed, he would have defied his position and taken the fastest horse in the Realm and gone to her months ago. Sometimes it took weeks or even a couple of months to receive a response; the trek to Lothlorien and back was no easy feat, nor was a trip always necessary and dispatching a messenger for the sake of one letter wasn't always feasible.

He mentally shook his head. The letter he sent with Feren wasn't exactly delicately written. He listed out a series of demands, questioning her reasoning behind the silence; if something had changed, or if she'd even gotten any of his previous letters to begin with (as was his original hunch). It was maddening, the entire thing, and he would personally hang the one responsible for purposely attempting to sever the ties between himself and the Princess.

As they halted for a short break, a wave of uncertainty flooded his mind and he was caught so off guard that he had to grasp the tree trunk beside him for support.

What in the world?

His heart began racing. It was there, alive in the back of his mind, that little thread that linked the two soulmates together. It wavered. For a moment he felt the heavy flash of uncertainty, but why? Why now? She was there, he could feel her and he felt his breath catch in his chest. The sudden wave shocked him to the core, as if he'd just taken a blow from an enemy's heavy swipe. For so long it had been silent, doused in a layer of well practiced calmness. She was rather good – too good – at blocking her emotions. How had she learned that trick so quickly? It could take years to properly master and she learned how in a few short months.

"What is wrong?" A steadying hand on his shoulder drew him upright. Had he been doubled over this whole time? Sidhel gave him a worried look, his brows creased together in a tight frown of concern that he realized was mirrored on the faces of the rest of his patrol group. Had they all seen his shock? Had they all seen his normally and well composed demeanor falter?

"I am fine," he said, his throat tightening painfully. Then, he lowered his voice when Sidhel thankfully waved away the others except Nodron, who stepped closer; head tilted to one side.

"Are you sure you are not injured?" Nodron asked, his gaze sweeping over Legolas' frame with a questioning look. "Perhaps you missed something-"

"Shyloh," Legolas croaked. "It was Shyloh. The bond link, I felt it. I was not expecting it, but the walls lifted. I could feel her uncertainty."

"Uncertainty with what, exactly?" Sidhel asked. He stepped closer, attempting to shield not only their quiet conversation but also the Prince from the rest of the troop. For a few moments, he would let them think up reasons for why their Prince had lost his balance. He would have to set them straight later and explain the Prince was not physically harmed in anyway. No doubt each of them would be worried about their Captain.

Legolas shook his head and drew in a deep breath. He left his hand on the trunk of the tree for support, though he probably did not need it. "I am not sure. It is still there, but I cannot make sense of it. She is worried about something, frightened maybe."

Nodron licked his lips anxiously. "Odd, that it has been silent for so long and suddenly her walls are lifting."

Sidhel's expression tightened. It was not a good sign if the emotions the Princess was feeling was so crippling toward her other half. Clearly she did not know what lifting the walls of her mind could do to someone, especially when they were so closely linked as they apparently were. The Prince and Princess were not married, hell, they weren't even betrothed much less courting, and the link between them was already strong. Strong enough that it could make the Prince double over as if he were in pain. Strong enough that it could make him falter. If this had happened during their last skirmish with the spiders or orcs, it could have left the Prince vulnerable and momentarily defenseless; two things one could not afford to have happen when engaged in battle.

The Prince was not in pain, but the wave that hit him must have been not only unexpected but powerful. Legolas had plenty of reasons for shielding his end of the link. The work he did on a daily basis was dirty, that left many of them feeling angered and disheartened. Sidhel and Nodron knew those were not the constant flow of feelings the Princess needed to feel on a regular basis. It could have directly affected her training in negative ways, and the two of them firmly supported the Prince's decision to coat the link with a numb energy.

They had thousands of years of experience running border patrol and slaying their enemies, the Princess only had a few, and her training and focus was crucial to her growth and development as a warrior. Now, Sidhel and Nodron exchanged worried glances. Whatever was ailing the Princess was out of their control. There was nothing they could do for her except pray to the Valar that she was alright and safe. For Legolas' sake.

They would be within the safety of the King's halls before nightfall, and they needed to keep moving. Once they made sure Legolas was well enough to travel, they pushed their company forward. They needed to get within the safety of the halls where they could discuss the matter in privacy. Keeping their eyes peeled, they continued south toward home.


Dusk followed the company as they finally passed under the grand doors of the Woodland Realm. They left the fading darkness of the woods behind as the doors closed behind them and made their way thorough the entrance hall. He did not follow his troops to the receiving chamber where they would hang up their traveling gear and weapons before retiring to the dining hall for a hot meal. Legolas did not bother stripping himself of his weapons or cloak as he made his way up the steps, intending to seek out his father.

Six weeks Feren has been gone, but the urge to discover if the King's aid had returned or not during the Prince's absence gnawed at him. Anxiety filled his chest as he hurried down the halls. Elves bowed to him as he went and he simply gave them a curt nod in response. It was probably rude of him to be so disregarding to his kin, but this was important.

"My Lord," a guard called out from a corridor, forcing the Prince to halt. "The King requests your presence in his office promptly."

With a nod, Legolas fell into step behind the guard and they made their way through the halls toward the King's office. To seek out his father was one thing, but to be summoned immediately after arriving back within the halls was not a good sign. Apprehension filled him the closer they got to the office.

He stepped past the guard that was always stationed outside the grand door that led to the King's office, shutting the door behind him a little bit louder than necessary. The King himself sat in his chair behind the elegant desk. The normal library of books and documents donned the expansive shelves on one side, while a roaring fireplace on the opposite end of the room cast a flickering orange glow throughout the entire space.

None of that was what caught his eye though. What did, was the ellon that stood off to the King's left side, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders squared. His brown hair draped across his shoulders and down his front. The King's aid had returned, but the grim expression on his face was only told the Prince he brought home troubled news. Before his mind could explode with a million questions, Feren bowed his head respectively.

"Welcome home, my son," Thranduil said, rising from his seat. He stepped around the side of his desk, his long silver blond hair catching the light of the candles and fire as he walked. His charcoal robes shuffled around his legs as he moved slowly.

He bowed his head to the King, but his eyes flicked worriedly towards Feren.

"I trust your journey was successful?" Thranduil asked, and Legolas was forced to draw himself upright and nod firmly once.

"Yes, my Lord, our aid to the northern border was successful and efficient," said Legolas.

"And you have all returned home unscathed?" the King asked, tilting his head to the side slightly, no doubt seeing the splatter of blood that donned the front of the his son's tunic.

"Yes, my Lord," replied Legolas. "We are all well."

The King nodded once, then turned toward Feren.

"I trust you bring some news of your own?" asked Legolas, following his father's gaze.

Feren took a step forward and nodded once. "Yes, my Lord, I bring news."

Legolas drew in a steady breath. Did the two of them not understand how agonizing it was to wait for Feren to continue? Did they not realize the last year had been the longest in his entire existence? Feren peered at him for a moment, his expression a well composed mask he no doubt learned from years of being the King's personal aid. He did not look travel worn in his appearance, which meant he must have arrived days, or perhaps a week or more ago.

Though Feren was not much of a traveler as of late, he spent many years serving the army of the Woodland Realm and was a skilled fighter, battling alongside the King in their younger years, before Legolas was even born. He had basically watched Legolas grow from an elf child into adulthood. Now, he wished the aid would speak his mind and voice what he found out, but his lips were pressed into a thin line.

"And?" pressed Legolas, his brow pinching together in a frown.

It was then, that the feeling of being watched crept into his mind, and he realized the three of them were not alone in the office like he originally thought. His breathing hitched in his chest, his body naturally tensing.

A voice he did not expect sent a shiver down his spine. "He felt it would be best coming from me directly."


If you want to read about Nathanar and the other two ellyn mentioned, check out the first chapter in my "Strange Gifts - one shots" book on my page. Enjoy!

-S