Legolas was not known throughout the Kingdom as the Elves' fastest runner, but at this particular moment even Linnethuil had trouble keeping strides with the young Prince. After Legolas had been roused from his reverie, he had immediately broken into a fierce run towards their home, completely disregarding his bow which lay dejectedly where he had dropped it unceremoniously to the ground. In his fury, Eliathas was tempted to leave it, but instead decided against and followed his two brothers home.

Eliathas was quite sure that Legolas was delusional at this moment, that perhaps some strange sickness had overtaken his mind and replaced it with fearful thoughts. He had no doubt whatsoever that the young Elf was terrified, but of what remained to be seen. Of course the Queen was not dying! Of all the preposterous things to say. Eliathas shook his head lightly as he ran. And he was positive that when they reached the cozy halls of their Kingdom, the Queen would greet them with her slight smile as always.

It had frustrated him occasionally that his mother obviously favored Legolas compared to the rest. Although he was certainly not one to bask in the attentions that others gave him, it angered him that the weakest of all the brothers should be 'coddled', if it were fair to call it so.

He was thankful that at least Thranduil saw it his way as well.

He was at the point of exhaustion, even for an Elf, and was relieved to see that Linnethuil was also showing signs of strain. Finally Linnethuil stopped, hunched over and gasping for breath.

"Legolas stop! We cannot keep this pace." He managed to sputter out.

Legolas did as commanded but did not turn to face them. This only annoyed Eliathas further. His anger began to surface, and as he stalked towards his youngest brother it nearly broke into a rage. He grabbed Legolas roughly by the shoulders and forcibly turned the Prince to glare into his pale eyes.

"Legolas stop this madness! The Queen is not dying! We are not in harms way! We – " He paused suddenly, feeling a cool air pick up his blond tresses, flinging them in his sweaty face. Something was amiss.

Linnethuil touched Eliathas on the forearm softly. The two brothers searched the darkened forest surrounding them, hands unconsciously grazing the hilts of their daggers. Eliathas turned back to Legolas who had his face upturned to the dark sky, clouding quickly with ominous gray clouds. His eyes were closed as if listening attentively.

"Can you feel it?" Linnethuil whispered. "This…shadow. Legolas could feel it, indeed he still does. It is an evil."

The outrageous thought that perhaps Legolas was correct took dangerous form in the mind of Eliathas. He nodded silently. "Then we return to the Kingdom."

The path leading to the great halls of the Kingdom were lighted with raging fire torches that flickered almost violently as the three Elven brothers ran swiftly by them. Bursting into the great doors, without thought to who might be behind them on guard the brothers skidded to a halt in the Great Hall of the King.

Thranduil rose gracefully from his perch, green eyes widening, eyebrow arching in silent question, while the rest of the court held still with bewilderment at the Princes' apparent distress.

"Mother." Legolas blurted breathlessly, sweat dripping from his brow.

Thranduil's eyebrows now furrowed in confusion, and he moved cautiously to stand in front of his youngest son. Eliathas and Linnethuil stood only feet behind Legolas, and Thranduil looked to each of them for an explanation. Linnethuil had a worried expression, and Eliathas merely shook his head sadly. Thranduil turned back to Legolas.

"The Queen is resting in her chambers, my son."

Now it was Legolas' turn to show obvious confusion. He looked to his feet as if they would somehow shed light on this latest mystery, but they gave only a weary pang of exhaustion.

Behind him he heard Eliathas sigh, and correctly guessed that his oldest brother was rolling his eyes as well.

The noticeably uncomfortable silence was shattered by a piercing scream. It came again and again, growing in desperation and horror with each wail. Legolas felt a horrified shiver course through his body, and for a moment no one in the court moved, but all turned their heads to absorb the scream. Sparing a quick glance to his sons, Thranduil took off with gaping strides to the halls where the scream emulated.

Paralyzed with fear, Legolas only moved when everyone else had already left the court towards the hall. Slowly, Legolas moved up the hall, dread quickening its pace to his chest until it was pounding with what he was sure was audible trembles. The screams had now subsided to heartfelt wailing, and numbly Legolas realized they belonged to that of the youngest maiden in his family, Galsila. He now reached the hall where a great crowd had gathered and there was Galsila, being held tightly by two of his other sisters while she wept and howled uncontrollably. All movement in the brightly lit hall before him seemed to dim, but he was sure it was only noticeable to his eyes. Elves before him wore masks of anger, hatred, grief, and perhaps even fear. Finally, he reached a doorway that he instinctively knew would be the room holding what he most feared. The Elves blocking the door moved away quickly and silently at the sight of Legolas, they gave him a grievous look, but he did not acknowledge them or their sympathy. His heart pounded, and the sweat that accompanied his long run back to the Kingdom increased with his worry.

He knew what he would see even before he approached the room, but it still did not prepared him for the wave of grief that hit when he saw the distinctly dead body of his mother laying sprawled on her bed. His vision clouded with hot tears that threatened to fall, but with all his might he held them back. Linnethuil was stroking his mother's hair, staring into her glazed eyes as if she could somehow answer his wordless questions. Eliathas stood in a darkened corner of the room, arms crossed stiffly across his chest. Thranduil himself stood gazing down at the body of his wife, his queen, his lover, a multitude of emotions threading themselves evenly with his anger, grief, and even guilt.

Just as Legolas felt his legs might give out on him, he found himself being helped into a chair beside the door. He placed his left arm on his knee, mouth resting on his closed fist. The tears came freely now, and he made no effort to fight them.

He numbly realized that the other Elves in the room had been speaking this entire time. The words themselves blended together dreamily, until one word ultimately rang clear in his head.

"Vampire."

Legolas looked to the speaker, one of Thranduil's top advisers.

"It is undoubtedly the mark of a Vampire." The Elf motioned to the opened window, the gauzy curtains still swaying eerily with the wind. "He came in here. Took her completely unawares." He inspected the visible bite marks marring her ivory skin. "She hadn't time to scream."

"It must be hunted."

Legolas knew the hoarse voice to be that of Eliathas. His words shook with anger. "A Vampire that takes of Elven blood, of royal Elven blood; it must be destroyed."

Legolas could feel the hot stare of Eliathas on him, and slowly he turned his face to finally meet the bloodshot eyes of his older brother.

"Tonight."