No sooner had the words been spoken then Eliathas stormed through the crowd of growing Elves in his mother's doorway, already clenching the shaft of his longbow in his right hand, knuckles turning white with the grip. Linnethuil looked up with sad eyes, first to where his brother had left, second to his youngest brother still seated and weeping softly. He looked to his father who did not meet his gaze.

"Eliathas is right. It is our duty to avenge her." Linnethuil rarely gave in to feelings of vengeance, but this did not feel so. Instead he looked to something – anything – that would take his mind off his grief.

"Legolas."

Legolas jerked his head up to see Linnethuil calmly staring at him. Legolas nodded, slowly getting to his feet, absently wiping the tears away with the back of his arm. Linnethuil left the room; Legolas was about to follow when his father grasped him tightly by the shoulders.

For a moment they stared into each other's eyes, countless feelings drifting towards the other: sorrow, guilt, perhaps a touch of confusion. Thranduil was not know for his affections to be physically shown, and Legolas was most surprised. Suddenly Thranduil drew him into a close embrace, realizing oddly that his youngest son was now even taller than he was. Legolas at first shifted uncomfortably in the hug, but then settled into it. Thranduil touched the back of Legolas' head, angling his face so he could whisper in his ear.

"Go carefully my son. Do not tread the same path as she."

Legolas withdrew, studying his father's face for an answer to the question he had just placed in Legolas' mind. But Thranduil only cast his eyes to the bed where the Queen lay.

Legolas gave one final look to his mother, one final wish that he was still dreaming. He searched the room for any feeling of her, of her familiar spirit but felt none.

She was gone.

"How do you track a beast that leaves no track?" Erydben muttered to himself, but the keen ears of all Elves around picked up his words and shared his frustration. All ten of the sons of Thranduil were on the hunt, as well as some thirty other Elves. The rest of the Kingdom was in preparations for the funeral of Mirkwood's greatest Queen.

The forest of Mirkwood was filled with a strange blue fog that lurked inches off the ground, conveniently covering any tracks that might have been, although Erydben was quite right in his assessment; vampires did not leave marks. The forest was silent tonight, as though all living creatures suddenly feared the wrath of forty vengeful Elves. A brisk breeze continually swept through the trees which was more of a nuisance than it was a hindrance to the hunters. Still, Legolas could not deny the slight chill he felt although whether that was from the wind or something else, it remained to be seen.

Eliathas, who was in the lead, held up his hand. All company stopped, bows drawn and arrows notched. He motioned for the entire group to split up, but turned around and specifically eyed Legolas.

"Stay with me." He commanded. Legolas didn't even have a chance to nod his agreement as Eliathas swung around. He motioned for half his group to take to the trees, while he, Legolas, and several others remained on the ground.

The night carried on with the carefully silent footfalls of hunting Elves and the occasional whistle from their brothers in the trees. Although Legolas was keenly aware with Elvish instincts how many hours had passed, he placed this knowledge along with his growing weariness in a small recess of his mind.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled slightly, Legolas paused and glanced behind him. His wariness did not go unnoticed. Eliathas halted and studied Legolas. When Legolas turned, Eliathas met him with raised eyebrows in question. Legolas shook his head.

Both brothers turned quickly as a slight rustle alerted their senses. With his sharp eyesight, Legolas spied the other Elves in the trees darting at unbelievable speeds on the boughs of strong oaks. Following their lead, the Elves on the ground path picked up their pace from a cautious walk to full out run. The slight rustle heard earlier had transformed itself into an alarmed shuffling in the bushes. It too was nearly as fast as the Elves.

Nearly.

Eliathas stopped, Legolas halting only inches behind him. "He will attempt to lose us before taking shelter in his dwelling. Stay here. We will signal to you if he turns back."

Legolas nodded mutely, feeling quite suddenly useless as his brother and fellow hunters sped through the forest.

The full weight of his weariness and grief came about him with crashing force as his shoulders sagged and eyelids drooped. Bringing one hand to rub his tired eyes, he forced himself to choke back a sob that threatened to overwhelm him. Visions of his mother, his dead mother, fought to surface and he shook his head to rid his mind of them. Finally feeling he may have chased them away, he opened his eyes and heaved a great breath of cool night air.

Something was wrong.

For one he found he was now very alone. There were no traces or sounds of any of his Elven brothers. And for another, that sensation was back again. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at full attention. Legolas shivered despite himself, and it was not from the brisk wind which picked up the fog around him.

His senses were on full alert, and his wariness now seemed to take an audible presence. There was a low humming in his ears. It didn't take more than a few heartbeats for him to realize that it was not a humming, it was growling.

Slowly, he turned, eyes widened in anticipation of what he hoped not to see.

But it was what he feared and despised. The vampire, assuredly the very one that took his mother's life. He rose to full height, taller than Legolas, with an unnatural ability. The vampire seemed to float like the fog itself; indeed its skin color was not much darker than the pale blue sheen surrounding the two. Its eyes were entirely black, ears pointed sharper than that of an Elf, teeth sharpened to fangs. It was hissing at him.

Behind him, Legolas dimly heard the sounds of his fellow Elves returning, undoubtedly seeing the error of their ways. They had left all cautiousness behind; even the animals of the forest could hear the trampling of twigs snapping beneath frantic feet.

But that was the last thing on his mind at the moment. He did not leave the hollow eyes of the vampire for a moment. From beneath his tattered black cloak, the beast drew a long nailed finger and pointed it at Legolas' heart.

Legolas felt the comforting grip of his bow and knew he would have to make his move soon before this standoff erupted into full chaos.

"Legolas!" Eliathas cried his name in alarm.

The vampire lunged, but before his evil brain could comprehend it, there was an arrow lodged in its heart. It gazed down at its chest; arrow half-buried in its pale skin, and back to Legolas, still holding his bow at chest level. It hissed at him vainly as it crumpled to the ground.

Legolas felt a warm hand on his shoulder and did not need to face Eliathas to know it was his. Legolas brought his arm down, staring calmly at the beast clutching the arrow that threatened to take its life.

"It must be finished brother." Eliathas said quietly. No other Elf had made a move towards the creature, but stared disgustedly and pointed their arrows at it. Eliathas passed Legolas his sword.

Legolas stared at the sword for a moment, then looked at the vampire. Its eyes were narrowed in hate and it hissed louder as Legolas walked slowly towards it.

With a cry of anguish and a long swipe, Legolas beheaded the creature swiftly.

The hunt was over.