Disclaimer: I own NOTHING of middle-earth. All places and characters are JRR Tolkein's, and New Line Cinema. NO monies are made from this. It is strictly a work of enjoyment.

The use of Trelan and Raneian from the Mellon Chronicles, as well as said references to events in said Chronicles, was given by Cassia when I sent her the synopsis. As far as I know, Fingolfin and Iswilen are constructs of my own imagination. Any resemblence to anyone living or dead is strictly in the mind of the reader, though the name of Fingolfin comes from the Silmarillion. This Fingolfin was named for that great hero.

NaughtyNat: yes, I intend the statement of Brother as it is between Strider and Legolas. That Elrohir and Elladan consider Glorfindel their 'brother' as in brethren Elf. ^..^

Chapter Four Capture and Doubt Two months ago…

He watched the succinct rhythm of movement and steel, purpose married to action. The ever-retreating sunlight of Mirkwood gave accent to form as the blade spun round in his hand, its edge a whir of wind whispered to his ear. Flaxen wisps of hair retreated from the movement as the marriage of muscle and mind directed the left hand back and the blade slid easily, precisely into its sheath at his back as his right removed the twin.

Legolas brought the blade down in an arcing motion, his gaze forward in concentration upon the tree before him. An oak as large and round as the columns within his Father's audience chambers. He spun the short sword in his left hand twice and released the hilt to his right hand.

What could they be talking about that could not include me? Am I not his son? His only son?

The Prince lowered the sword, the tip just grazing the shortened grass at his feet. He stood in the small glade outside the palace, dressed in warrior brown and green. Upon his fair features rested an expression of sadness, one he'd carried heavy for four months, since the arrival of Fingolfin and Iswilen.

What have I done in his eyes to deserve such distance? Surely we have experienced differences in opinion before.

With a deep sigh Legolas re-sheathed his blade. Fingolfin had gifted him with a set of twin swords like his own. It had been the Twin's first, a gift from his father. The Prince had practiced in their use, taking lessons from his childhood friend. His shoulders slumped with the weight of the past weeks and he lowered his head.

"Legolas? " came the familiar voice of Trelan.

He turned to see his dearest friend step from the palace door, his hands clasped behind him. His own expression wore lines of worry not often seen upon an Elf. "Your leg no longer pains you."

Legolas shook his head. He was happy to see his old friend up and around, for there had been several weeks or worry about the wounded Elf. He believed it was Iswilen's gift for healing that saved Trelan's arm. "Nor does your arm pain you." The Prince shook his head. "Nay...there are mornings when the ache wakes me before the dawn's song. I fear such a wound of my own making will follow me until I myself take leave of this world." He gave his friend a half smile, but could not keep his gaze from wondering up to the three tall windows of colored glass upon the palace wall.

Trelan followed his liege's gaze. "I'm still at odds with your somewhat self inflicted exile from your Father. Has their been some argument as of late that would strike such a cowering blow to familial trust?"

The Prince frowned at Trelan. "'Tis not I that drove me from his chamber." He turned and looked at the trees. How often in these weeks had he dreamed of touching their branches? Of lingering within their care in the deeper places of the forest? Yet the spider's travels and the now ever-present danger and threat of the Orcs kept them all nearer to their home.

Trelan took a step closer to his Prince. "Legolas, I am not as blind as I sometimes pretend to be. But neither is Fingolfin. He knows your Father has taken him on as confidant and nearly advisor. But there is a rational purpose in the King's intent."

Legolas turned quickly, his blue eyes flashing. "Is there truly? Then what is it, Trelan? What is there in this world, in my home, that he can tell Fingolfin and cannot tell me?"

"He did not push you away, Legolas."

"He bade me go and," the Prince narrowed his eyes and deepened his voice to take on the level and cadence of his Father the King, "'practice my skills to be as great a swordsman as Fingol's son.'.." He rubbed his neck with his right hand. "I am a fine warrior. I have trained for over fifteen hundred years. And I am better than Fingolfin in many things."

"I hadn't realized you were in a competition," Trelan said with a smile.

Legolas shook his head. "I wanted to send another envoy to Rivendel. We are cut off here, Trelan. None of our parties that left have returned. There has been no word from those sent to Radagast the Brown. The Spiders close in upon us and the Orcs," he thought of his leg and believed he felt a ghost of the former pain. "The Orcs are now more of a threat than ever. We cannot tell often enough which of those are dangerous and those that are not. We are being hemmed in from all sides."

Trelan unclasped his hands and approached Legolas. He placed a comforting hand on the Prince's shoulder. "I know this, Legolas. I also have lived under Thranduil's rule long enough to know he does not take kindly to suggestions of aid."

"That will be his undoing," Legolas could not contain the vehemence of his resentment from betraying him in his voice. "He thinks I only seek the consoling of Estel."

"Ah," Trelan nodded. "I wondered when or how your father would bring the Dunédan up."

"Oh, at any opportunity," Legolas put his hand upon Trelan's then moved away. "And I have done all I can to avoid letting Iswilen know of Estel's heritage - her hatred of men is so strong. I fear what may come of their meeting."

"As I have wondered. I wish to have the view of a bird upon such a meeting."

Legolas shot his friend a challenging look, and then broke from his anger once he gazed upon Trelan's expression of mirth. "I as well."

The doors of the palace opened wide. The two Elves turned as one as Iswilen charged out, her expression dark. Legolas considered that he had not seen a smile give light upon her face since her first look at him in the forests of Mirkwood.

"Fingol's daughter," Trelan bowed.

The Prince's muscles tensed at his friend's words. Trelan plays with fire - and yet I understand the appreciation of her beauty as warrior and maiden, for I have seen the same light in his eyes.

"Iswilen," Legolas began, an apology for Trelan upon his lips.

The Elven maiden held up her right hand. The filtered Mirkwood sun gave light to her gray eyes as she raised her right eyebrow. "You father has sent me, like some common servant, to fetch you," she pointed at Legolas.

The Prince could only share in the twin's anger. "Ah, he has need of me now? And what would my father ask of me? Does he wish to know if I have mastered the twin blade was well as your brother? Or is he more bothered by my menstruations so close to the Palace? Perhaps he worries that others can see my weaknesses and therefore best me in battle?"

Iswilen stopped before the two and crossed her arms upon her chest, waiting patiently for the Prince to finish his tirade. Her gaze lingered a bit longer upon Trelan before she noticed Legolas had stopped his speech. "No - upon his thoughts I cannot guess. I am unsure of any of those requests. What I can tell you is that he wants you accompanying Fingolfin and I," she nodded to Trelan, "and this one."

"Me?" said the brave friend.

She nodded.

Legolas was unsure of what reaction he should give. He had grown accustomed to being nothing more than his father's errand boy. "Accompanying you where?"

"To the North East border. It seems there is movement in the supposedly abandoned city of Esgaroth."

Legolas and Trelan looked at one another. Movement? Legolas followed the twin and his friend back into the palace. Esgaroth had been abandoned since the defeat of Smaug. Had men returned?

Further questionin brought the Prince to a halt in his musings. Iswilen had not said the movement was that of men.

The Present…

'Twas another day's journey to reach the edges of Mirkwood to where the spire of Dol Guldur towered over the trees like a dark sentinel overseeing his master's holdings. Fading sunlight shown off the highest turret as Strider and his party made their way carefully into the dark forests. He had not traveled in the southern reaches of Mirkwood much in his recent adventures with the Rangers – yet he was surprised at how dark they had grown indeed. Having only his friend's home to reference such an encroaching of evil, Strider was surprised to find much of the forest still vested in the Necromancer's long past influence.

Rodérin motioned three of his men to the left of the forest path to the tower, and then bade the others follow him to the right. Three of his men remained on the forest's edge to guard the wounded prisoner, Granlyn Tovick. It had been Estel's design to bind and gag the man, for he feared Tovick may howl and bring what lurked inside the tower upon them.

It also gave the Dunédan a certain amount of pleasure to see the ill-willed Dunlending powerless. I swore I would see you pay for your crimes, Granlyn Tovick, and by Illuvatar, I will see this done.

Rodérin bid Strider and his Elven brothers follow him. They crept nearer to a hillock of bramble and twisted trees and Elladan motioned for all of them to approach the precipice in a crouched fashion.

The Horseman leader pulled himself up between Elladan and Strider. "I fear our reports of activity at the refuge of darkness are true."

Indeed. Strider watched in falling hope as fifty or so darkly uniformed men moved in and out of the tower's lower entrance. Horses were corralled nearby, grazing on dirt and corn by the looks of it. He memorized all the he could, knowing that either now, or in an instant to be, he would rely on what he saw, smelled and felt.

And now I feel apprehension.

For just emerging from the entrance among the men was a Nazgûl – a Ring Wraith.

Rodérin cursed softly. "Bah…then all is as I had feared. The Riders are on the move, and have come again to this place." He frowned and turned to Strider. "But to what end? Surely they do not wish to set war upon Gondor again?"

Strider shook his head. "Nay – I cannot think to know what such dark forces seek here." He noticed something dark and ill formed to the right of the tower, but he could not see. He turned to Elrohir on his right and pointed at the intrusion. "Can you see with your Elven eyes what is beyond those slain trees?"

The gray eyes of Elrond's son widened and Strider watched the pupils dilate to an inky black. He had often watched Legolas' eyes brighten as such and marveled at the beauty of Elven make.

"I…" the youngest twin shook his head. "I do believe I am seeing…" he turned to look at Strider, his eyes refocusing. "Spiders."

"Spiders?" Rodérin said. His weathered face also twisted in confusion. "Upon what purpose could these dark men have to acquire spider carcasses?" he nodded to the tower. "For surely to be in the open like this they are quite dead."

Elrohir nodded and looked back. "Should I move closer?"

Strider and Rodérin spoke at the same time. "No."

The twin pursed his lips and sat in indignant silence.

The Dunédan smiled at his brother. Ah, so often I have seen that very look upon Legolas' face. Perhaps it is a custom of Elves to reflect disagreement so.

Rodérin turned to Strider. "Perhaps Elrohir is right in thinking we should get closer. The Nazgûl does not bode well for Glorfindel's rescue – and I see more Easterlings than I care to entangle until we know more."

Strider shook his head. "I do wish to endanger your men in nearing that place. The Nazgûl…"

Commotion below and the sounds of a horse brought their attention back to the gate. The Ring Wraith had mounted his black stead and now turned its gait to the east. Strider looked back to Rodérin. "The Nazgûl has departed."

"We seek the Elf?"

Strider pursed his lips. He eyed the sky above them, looked to the East with its darkening clouds, though as of late, he was unsure if those ominous billows were of Illuvatar's hand, or that of the Dark Lord's. "We wait until darkness. And then only two of us shall go." He looked at Elladan on the left of Rodérin and then he turned to Elrohir. "You can come with me."

He eyed his human sibling. "Perhaps this is how our Mirkwood brother finds himself so often under our father's care?"

The Dunédan smiled. "Nay – Legolas never invites my help to find trouble, dear brother. He is quite accomplished in seeking it himself."

Two Months Ago…

Out of habit Legolas kept his long knife and sword at his side on the ride to the Northern Border. The messenger had given the description of a battle between Spiders and an invader – yet the patrolling Elves had not seen to whom the Spiders gave chase, and there had been no Orcs in the mingle, the two ever a part of one another as of late. And always the Spider came in wake of the Orc.

These things puzzle me more than their appearance. Legolas leaned forward upon his horse and allowed the skilled attention of the beast to mingle with his own as they set their course. My father can plot and pull intrigue from all over the wood as to why the spiders come and how the Orcs' blood had been so tainted. But my concerns is to the marriage of the two. Always they appear together in the past month.

Always.

As if the Spiders were being pursued. And yet my father cannot see this?

Fingolfin slowed his mount just enough to ride beside Legolas. "I too wonder these things, Greenleaf."

The Prince narrowed his eyes but kept his gaze forward. "I do wish you would not linger in my private thoughts, Fingolfin."

"You have never fretted thus before," the handsome Elf gave the Prince a half smile. "I am aware of your anger – and I know that it is not at me you wish to direct it, but at Thranduil. I have spoken on your behalf and…"

Legolas pulled his mount to an abrupt stop and gripped the reins as tight as his fists allowed.

Fingolfin also slowed and turned his horse, a cream colored mare that had once been a part of Thranduil's private stock. The very horse Legolas had raised since birth. "Ah, it has come to this, has it?"

The Prince felt his anger bubble forth, so had he held it in check for weeks, ever the obedient son and Prince. But now he was not within the walls of his Father's home. He was not reigned in by décor and manner. "Come to what, dear friend? You have spoken on my behalf, to my own father? Why should it be so, son of Fingol? Why do I need anyone to speak on my behalf?"

"Legolas," Trelan began, but Iswilen reached out to him as she neared on her white mount. She shook her head once and turned to the two combatants.

Fingolfin was not the least put off by the Prince's words, or his actions. Instead the Elf leaned forward. "Anger does not become you – though I do remember your temper on many occasion, my Prince." He cocked his head to the right. "Perhaps I am wrong, and you do wish your emotion at me."

"Can you not read my thoughts now, Fingolfin? Can you not see my pain?" Yes, can you not see that I am now drowning in a cage? Suffocating, gasping for freedom to move and chose, to be who I am within my own home?

"Pain?" Fingolfin's smile faded. "I have seen much pain, Greenleaf. And I am not one to be the bearer of it. I am not here to supplant your place alongside your father. I am here to help him in any way I can. I am here…"

"To replace our father in his eyes."

Legolas and Fingolfin turned to Iswilen.

"Nay, sister. You know my heart. You know that is not my wish."

"It may not be yours, but Thranduil sees you as Fingol – and that is with buried pain. He grieves for his friend's demise, and you are his reminder that he must always remember." The twin shook her head. "I know you understand these things – perhaps on some level. But that does not excuse why you sent me to gather the Prince."

Legolas' eyes widened and he looked to Fingolfin. "You summoned me? I believed it was my father."

"Your father has it in his head, dear Greenleaf, that you are incapable of fighting," Fingolfin held up his right hand before the Prince could respond. "Because he is incapable of losing you."

The Prince sat back. His shoulders rounded. "I…"

"He is in pain – of this Iswilen is quite right. And so he wishes to keep you near him by not allowing you to be from him. It was I that was dispatched and it was I that called you. His orders were to take what able fighters I believed were well trained. You were the first to come to mind. I have trained you myself, and as I have said before," He looked up at the ever-present canopy of trees. "You have a way with these beasts that I do not."

"But I'm not…"

"Ease your mind, Greenleaf, and know that I would have no one else save my sister beside me. You have never lived the court life. You have never wanted it – this I know from your actions. You are not meant to be King by your own choosing, and if we are lucky, Thranduil will live to see the Gray Havens as our father did not."

Such beautiful words – but he was always gifted at speaking what one wanted to hear. Legolas closed his eyes. Was it so bad that it hadn't been his father that sent him to the border? If Fingolfin had obeyed, he and Iswilen would still be within the palace walls, wanted but invisible.

So much like errant children a parent loved, but could not tolerate.

He closed his eyes. The subtle thoughts were there, those bits of life and connection from the trees. They swayed in the breeze and spoke of danger around them. They told Legolas of a great battle to the North.

The Prince opened his eyes. "Follow me."

And as he passed by, Fingolfin smiled.

The Present…

Night came slowly, a starless blanket that held sentry over the darkening forest once known as Greenwood the Great. Strider watched its descent as he smoked his pipe. The orange of the pipe's bowl was the only illumination they dared in the night so close to Dol Guldur. His Numerian blood allowed him to see better in the dark than most men. He kept Granlyn in his sight for the Dunlending had been freed long enough to eat, though his legs remained hobbled. I do not trust this man. There is something more to his tale – something he has not divulged to Rodérin and I fear we may all discover too soon his treachery.

Elladan came, his cloak removed from his shoulders. Dressed in dark velvets and leggings, the dark haired Elf could easily blend with the night. "Elrohir is ready. Are you sure you will not take me?"

Strider shook his head as he emptied the bowl of his pipe by tapping it against his boot. He tucked the favored item into his pack near a tree and pulled his short bow from his carry. "No, I need you here. If Elrohir and I do not return by sun rise, I will need you to return Rodérin and his men to Rohan, and deliver this news to Elrond." He glanced at Tovick. "I also want to make sure this man stays alive. I do not believe he is telling us the truth."

Elladan narrowed his eyes. "You do not believe Glorfindel is here?"

"I am not sure." He shook his head. "He may be – but the telling of his tale," Strider shrugged. "Perhaps I will better understand my misgivings once I have seen this place closer."

The Elven twin nodded. "I will be here. But I do not like it."

Strider slapped his brother's shoulder. "I know."

Elrohir appeared, also dressed in his darkest leggings, his cloak tossed aside. "I am ready. The night is deep and I am anxious to find Glorfindel."

"I do not know this place on the inside. I am unsure if we shall be able to find him."

"I could help you."

Everyone turned to glare at the prisoner. He shrugged as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

Rodérin stepped forward. "And I suppose you would do this because you are kind and wish to aid us in finding the Elf?"

The Dunlending gave a toothless smile. A shiver raked over Strider's back.

"Aye, good Lord sir." Granlyn nodded. "I do not wish such things on an Elf. But I do not wish such things on me as well. But I know this place and I know where they would hide him if he is here."

Rodérin shook his head, his arms folded across his chest. He looked as if his patience had reached a boiling point. "You are a liar Granlyn Tovick and I do not trust you. There is nothing you can bargain for. You have slain my kin in cold blood. If given the chance, you would slay us."

"Might be sir," said Granlyn with a returning smile. "But I would better face the Rohirrim punishment given than to be caught between these folk."

"You say you would rather face Rohan's justice than what awaits you here?" Strider nodded. Even through his travels, the Dunédan knew little about the Easterlings or their practices. They were as mysterious to him as the Istari. "Why do you say this, Tovick? Have you been within their number previous?"

The Dunlending's expression betrayed nothing. He only shrugged. "Nay – tis that I know of the Rohirrim and their ways. I do not know of these creatures, and if you say among them stood a Wraith…" he gave an honest shiver.

"No weapon," Strider said abruptly and moved to gather his sword.

Rodérin approached the Dunédan and bid him draw nearer. The Horse Leader spoke in a low concern-filled voice. "Have you taken leave of your senses? This man is criminal – a murderer of my own kin, and yet you wish to set him free?"

Strider slid his blade into its sheath and gave Rodérin the most reassuring smile he could muster. "Tovick's abilities as a murderer may be honed, but those of his tracking and hiding, are in lacking. He would not escape Elrohir or myself. And Elladan will be watching as well."

"I believed the First Born would stay here?"

Strider gave a quick shake of his head. "If there is one thing I know of my Elven brethren, it is that they do as they please. These two in particular, are joined in ways neither you nor I can understand. If one is present, though the other may be bodily about elsewhere, the twin will also know the happening of circumstance."

"Indeed," the Horse Leader nodded. "Then I await word from you."

"You will have it." Strider turned and motioned for Elrohir to follow. The Elf stood on down the path, a mere shadow of movement. Taking on the hood of his upbringing among the gifted of the House of Elrond, Strider too assumed Elven breed and disappeared into the forest.

Two months ago….

The battle, or what little there was of it, had long since ended its fierce combat when Legolas and his party arrived. Spiders moved carefully about, their attentions brought into sharp focus upon their prey.

Fingolfin and Iswilen split up as Trelan and Legolas took the right. They found a well-hidden spot due east of the battle's edge. Legolas noted that the twins were positioned in almost the opposing side.

"They've already begun their spinning," Trelan whispered.

"Aye," the Prince said, his voice merely an echo on the wind. The tress swayed about him gentle, and in their bark they told the tale. "Several are dead," he pointed with a nod to the right. "There."

Trelan breathed in quickly. "They're dwarves!"

Legolas turned and quickly slapped a slender-fingered hand over his friend's mouth. "Do you wish to join them?" He looked up at the trees above them, searching for any stray Spiders. He only saw three within the combatant area – and yet three were enough.

They were taken by surprise. Legolas looked up and to the left where six small cocoons hung on strong limbs. They swayed so slightly in the wind from the border's edge, the movement a faint creaking upon the breeze. Their contents remained still. Spider venom. The Prince shivered at his own recollection of their numbing sting.

Three spiders. He looked past the working beasts to where Fingolfin hid. The Elf nodded to the one closest to he and his sister and made a hacking motion with his right arm.

Legolas shook his head. We do not know if these three are all there are. And as of late, they are followed by Orcs. I do not wish…

"Oh Greenleaf"… came his friend's voice in his ears. He was Whispering as he always had during their early years of play in these woods. "Simply follow me. Or are you afraid of using your new blades?"

He is goading me. Legolas gave his old friend a half smile. A dark eyebrow arched in defiance, his former anger at Fingolfin dismissed. Nift.

"He means for us to attack." Trelan leaned in.

"Aye. On his mark –"

But the tall, striking Elf was already charging the Spider nearest he and his sister. Iswilen's blades were drawn. Legolas gave Trelan a bitter look and followed it with a sigh as he pulled his bow from his back and loaded an arrow.

Trelan pulled bow and arrow as well and the two fired a volley at the Spiders nearest them.

Their attack handed in the verdict of surprise, and thus the Spiders were easily killed. Legolas and Trelan felling the two with three arrows apiece, and the Twins gaining only one with hacking swords.

The four stepped out gingerly as Legolas nimbly went to the three Dwarven bodies he's seen to the right. They were dead, all of them. Their bearded faces staring past him to their ultimate end.

"Dwarves?"

The Prince looked up at Fingolfin who had come to stand a foot away. Behind him Trelan and Iswilen began the task of cutting down the cocoons. The first one fell unceremoniously to the ground before Legolas spoke. "Yes. Dwarves."

"If I'd known they were Dwarves, I would not have risked my life."

Legolas did not share any love of the stocky, filthy creatures himself. Yet he and Strider had had dealings with the Dwarves of Moria, and though the place itself set Legolas' fears on edge, the creatures inhabiting those mines did little else than give him an itch. "Then do you suggest we return to tell my father it was dwarves the messenger saw?"

"Nay…" Fingolfin shook his head. "He would only ask why there were dwarves in his Kingdom."

"Arrrgghhhh…"

The two Elves spun with swords drawn, Legolas pulling the right sword from his back.

The first cocoon had been cut open and a burly man in chain-mail and helm tumbled out. His red face appeared close to exploding as he righted himself, and then fell.

He is still feeling the effects of the venom. Legolas lowered his blade and moved near the Dwarf. He held out his hand as the stocky creature tried to right himself. "Easy…Spider Venom is not to be taken lightly."

The Dwarf saw the slender hand and nearly clasped it within his own – but then he saw the bearer of help and backed away, again falling upon his backside with a stated, "humph". A second cocoon fell followed quickly by a third as Iswilen and Trelan made quick work of sticky bindings.

"Argghh…" the Dwarf bellowed for a second time.

Legolas stood back and glanced at Fingolfin. The taller Elf shrugged. The Prince looked at the solid creature. "Are you injured, sir?"

"Elves!" The Dwarf cried again. "Elves!" He then stopped and raised a bushy eyebrow to Fingolfin. "You are Mirkwood Elves? Those of King Thranduil?"

Two more Dwarves were freed and Legolas moved past the burly little creature to aid Iswilen and Trelan. Returning his sword to his back sheath, the Prince pulled his long sword and hacked at removing the last of the cocoons as the twin and Trelan freed another Dwarf. It too came forth from its prison with anger and sound. Must they all make such harsh noises? I fear we will not be alone for long.

"Disin…these be the Mirkwood Elves," the first one released said to a Dwarf standing beside Iswilen. The twin eyed the Dwarf down. Disin moved away from the warrior Elf.

"And so we owe them our lives?" Disin seemed unhappy at their predicament. He looked up at Fingolfin. "Disin, first captain of the Lord of the Lonely Mountain, now known as Erebor." The Dwarf nodded.

Legolas finished the release of the last of the Dwarves, and then moved to where Trelan and Iswilen stood. He did not re-sheath his blade, for there still lingered the tree's warning of danger in the winds.

"…do not speak…"

The words came to Legolas and he looked to Fingolfin. Do not speak? What could he mean? For the tall Elf and the Dwarf appeared in deep conversation as the other Dwarves moved about the remaining three Elves.

It was Trelan that broke the silence. "Fingolfin...I would advise we tarry not. I fear Orcs may be somewhere close."

"...Legolas...keep your silence..."

"I agree," the tall Elf nodded to the Dwarf before him. "My suggestions would be to leave Mirkwood. The Orcs my friend speaks of are nothing you would wish to tangle with."

"Orcs," Disin spat and turned to glance at the others. "They do not frighten us."

"I'm afraid these are different," Fingolfin said.

A wind moved the trees and Legolas tilted his head. He caught the whispers and closed his eyes as the creaking bark gave the call of warning. He opened his eyes to see Fingolfin and Trelan looking to him. He nodded, keeping his voice stilled as the Twin had asked, though he could not understand why.

"My friend speaks to trees. He signals danger."

Legolas did not suspect nor could he have imagined what happened next. The trees whispered of danger - and so he prepared himself for battle against the enemy, his muscles tensing and his keen senses alert.

No Orc burst forth from the surrounding wood. No cry of dark battle or blackened arrow flew. Instead the cocoon strewn lawn filled with dozens of small, squat bodies, each clothed in armor and helm, and each carried an axe of Dwarven workmanship, the craftwork unmistakably Dwarrowdelf.

The quartet of Elves were surrounded by nearly fifty Dwarves strong, all bearded and armed, all with scowls turned to the High Born before them.

"What is this?" demanded Iswilen, her voice lacking none of the bravado Legolas felt. She held both swords at the ready, metal high, her knees bent.

Legolas had his long sword held before him. Do the Dwarves mean to attack us? What is this indeed?

Disin stepped away from Fingolfin. "'Twas not our intent to capture the Elven King's son yet good fortune does sometimes come from foul error. We had not anticipated the Spiders, and yet, they have led your kind hearts to us."

The King's son? Legolas looked back to Fingolfin. He gave a slight shake with his head.

"...silence..."

Disin rounded on the son of Fingol. "Within our once rich coffers of mithril we found Elven blade and arrow." He reached inside his thick, studded armor and retrieved a green and brown arrow. ""Tis this not the work of your people?"

The only response Fingolfin gave was that of arching his fair eyebrows. "Master Dwarf, because you spoke in past tense of once filled, I am to assume you believe we Elves have raided your Mithril?" He gave a laugh that resounded through the trees. "I am sorry sir, but if the Elves, any Elf for that manner, were to empty your coffers, they would not leave so bold a clue behind as to the culprit."

"Silence those scolding words," the Dwarf with snow-white hair beside Disin spoke. "Our forefathers dealt with the hospitality of King Thranduil before the Battle of the Five Armies, and we know of Elven greed, for he too wished a share of what Smaug had taken." The Dwarf looked upon Fingolfin with narrowed eyes. "And now his has come again and taken from us, and we intend on taking what he prizes above all else until he returns what is ours."

Legolas felt the heat rise from within, a searing lance that threatened to force voice from his sealed lips. He feared he knew now why Fingolfin had wished him silent.

For the Dwarves meant to take Fingolfin, believing he to be the King's Son, and the Twin intended on allowing them to believe the mistake.

He's trying to save me. The Prince moved forward, his sword ready to strike any Dwarf that stood in his way. He could not allow Fingolfin to do such a thing. There aren't many, and surely if we can defeat Spiders we can defeat -

He never knew what happened then, for something hard and solid struck the back of his head. As he wobbled on shaky legs, the wound in his calf set to throbbing as darkness surrounded his vision. He felt the sword fall from his hand, his fingers brushing the leather grips as he collapsed onto his knees.

"Greenleaf..." came the voice of Fingolfin, but the Prince's eyes closed as he pitched forward onto the battle-strewn ground.

TBC

N/A I hope not to make my next update take so long. J