The guards had halted them before the entrance to the caves, eyeing them warily and striding towards the group cautiously, until they both instantaneously recognized the young Prince. Their eyes grew wide as recognition unfolded, but sensing that some terrible tragedy had befallen their beloved royal family. Legolas did not seem to notice the guards before him; his stony trance instead fell to the ground, jaw set rigidly while his left arm hung limply at his side. They guards waved them through quickly, but both straightened their shoulders, a feeling of dread coming upon them as they stared at the one horse that contained what was quite obviously a body wrapped in a grey cloak.

With one hand on Legolas' back, Aragorn led him into his father's halls, for the Prince did not seem to be able to see through the haze of shock that surrounded him. Every Elf they passed on the way to his father stepped aside cautiously, scrutinizing Legolas and this mortal man accompanying him in their woodland realm.

At once they came to King Thranduil's throne where he sat eyeing a large scroll on his lap that two other Elves were helping him to decipher. His attention snapped up to the strangers entering his throne room, but his eyes squinted at Legolas and then his eyebrows shot up in question at the human and dark-haired Elves that surrounded his son.

"Legolas? What news? And what of our guests?" He asked in a low and commanding voice.

Legolas slowly lifted his head, and for a moment seemed lost in his own surroundings, but after seeing his father the King staring down at him in question he opened his mouth in response, but was dumbfounded when none would come.

"Your Majesty, I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. My companions are Elrohir and Elladan, sons of the mighty Elrond from Rivendell." Both Elves bowed their heads slightly upon being introduced and Thranduil nodded in acknowledgment, remembering the sons of the Lord from long ago.

"I was not expecting your arrival for some time. Indeed, it is with much grace that my son should come across you for there are Orcs roaming the Southern perimeters of Mirkwood."

With the mention of Orcs came a dark look upon all the faces, and Thranduil distinctly noted the grimace of Aragorn and the lowering of Legolas' head.

"What has happened?" He asked slowly.

The two guards who had let the troupe entered now carried the burden of the body of Erydben. Thranduil's eyes widened as he saw the body, knowing even before the face was uncovered that it was his son's. He pushed the group aside, falling to the floor of his hall, scrambling to uncover the cloak.

Erydben's pale face looked as though sleeping peacefully with closed eyes, although all in attendance knew this to be false. Thranduil cupped Erydben's face tenderly, his own facade failing in the smallest moment of despair, but setting with a firm ferocity that for but a moment Aragorn was nearly fearful. Thranduil's wrath was widely known throughout Middle Earth, and Aragorn could only hope that it was not enacted upon him. Thranduil stood with an air only the powerful and pristine can impose. His eyes stormed as he glared in Aragorn's direction.

"How did this happen?!" He demanded of Aragorn, as though it were the Ranger's own doing.

Aragorn did not falter in his confidence, yet he could barely find the means to answer. But he did not have to.

"They came quickly. There were many of them, and all but Erydben and I to defend ourselves. They assuredly meant to kill us." Legolas glanced down at Erydben, then steeled himself and faced his father eye for eye. "Were it not for the man and our visitors from Rivendell, you would be bereft of one more son. I owe this man, Aragorn, with my life."

Thranduil was apparently not prepared for the news that a mortal was capable of aiding an immortal. He glanced quickly at Aragorn, who nodded sadly. "Alas, I fear we did not arrive soon enough."

Thranduil could not speak so instead he stared at Erydben. As he spoke, his teeth clenched together making his voice come out as a hiss. "We will find these orcs, these foul creatures that have taken the life of a truly noble and beautiful Elf, and they will pay dearly for their trespass." He looked up quickly, rage seething in his stature for all to see. "I want their heads!"

The guards saluted rigidly, then hurried off. Thranduil's advisers also rushed off into all directions, noting their instructions with due diligence and setting off to ready the best of Mirkwood's warriors.

Thranduil spun around to face Legolas, who was once again staring at Erydben's body. Something caught Thranduil's attention on the hall floor. He quickly noted it for what it was.

"Legolas, see the surgeon."

Legolas popped his head up, surprised. "I wish to be a part of the hunting party, surely – "

But Thranduil silenced him with a wave of his hand. "I will have no more blood spilt in my halls." And with that, the King strode off.

Legolas mutely stared at the floor to see that he was, in fact, dripping blood from the back of his palm. Aragorn hurriedly came to the side of Legolas, inspecting his bandages. He grunted with disapproval.

"I fear the ride here did your wound no great service. Your father is correct in that you should see a surgeon. Soon, Legolas."

Legolas stiffened, then faced Aragorn with a mixture of so many emotions that the hardy Ranger could barely keep track. "Are you injured?"

This question took Aragorn completely unawares. He shook his head, then looked back at his companions who also shook their head.

Legolas seemed to sigh, whether in relief or exhaustion, Aragorn could not be sure. "You are all in need of rest. I fear this has not been our warmest welcome for strangers from the great realm of Rivendell. Come, I will find you suitable lodgings, though if you were expected than I suspect there are some already awaiting you."

Legolas turned and motioned for them to follow him, but Aragorn was at his side before the Elf could dismiss him. "But what of you?"

Legolas faced the man, and Aragorn saw his sapphire eyes flicker briefly with weariness but quickly regain their strength. Instantly the Prince seemed to remember his standing and his back arched with a composure that only royalty could muster. "Do not trouble your thoughts with my wound. See to yourselves, as I will do for myself. You forget yourself son of Arathorn. I am immortal. Slight wounds such as these fade quickly."

But Aragorn caught the wayward glance the Prince stole towards the spot where Erydben's body had been laid, but was now removed and being prepared for burial. It was there but a second, and then was gone – faded, just as the Prince had said.