Author's Note: I know this takes me a long time to get these parts out, but you have to understand that I read and reread my own stories repeatedly to make sure there are no obvious errors existing and that I don't sound stupid. If I sound stupid to me, I can't even imagine what it looks like to readers. Anyway, here's the next part of To Finally Come Home. Enjoy!

Written by: Pinto

To Finally Come Home

Part II

"Elrohir!" Elladan's voice rang out from the back of the stables.

The other dark haired twin glanced up from his horse upon hearing his brother's cry. "What is it?" He barely managed to contain the growing frustration in his voice.

"You made sure to pack the extra herbs, right?"

Clamping his teeth tightly together, Elrohir struggled not to shout out at his brother. "Yes, Elladan! The herbs have not unpacked themselves from the last time you asked…five minutes ago!"

Elrohir received no response except the soft clopping of hooves on the packed dirt floor. Glancing up from his pack, he saw Elladan leading Feäbrêg forward. The duo stopped a few feet in front of where Elrohir was still bent over, checking the packs one final time. "I'm sorry, Elrohir. It's just that I wish to be ready, in case…" He trailed off, not wanting to think about the possibility of his adoptive brother being hurt.

Regretting his frustration with his brother, Elrohir stood up and placed an arm on Elladan's shoulder. "I know. We will find him." Noting the look of uncertainty in his twin's eyes, he reiterated himself more confidently. "We will."

For encouragement, he let a smile briefly appear on his face. "Come now, get your pack. We must be on our way; the sun grows heavy in the west."

"And where exactly do the sons of Lord Elrond intend on going?"

A familiar voice broke the nervous tension and both Elladan and Elrohir quickly looked to the stable entrance. "Legolas!" Elrohir smiled openly, moving quickly to where the blonde wood-elf leaned against the frame of the stable. He bowed customarily to the Mirkwood heir. "What business brings you to Rivendell, my friend?"

"I have come to relay the seasonal report of Mirkwood regarding the spiders and other foul creatures to the Lord of Imladris." He paused, coolly lifting a single eyebrow. "Not to mention I believe I needed to escape the palace for a few days before my father took it upon himself to kill me."

"Kill you?" Elladan had come up behind his twin at this point. "What exactly is driving the good king of Mirkwood to such measures?" Two pairs of knowing, dark eyes stared accusingly at Legolas.

The blonde elf could not help himself and smiled broadly. "Perhaps there was a small fraction of antagonistic action on my behalf, but otherwise I would proclaim his behavior rather unorthodox." He looked innocently toward the suddenly interesting stable rafters.

"The last time you said that, dear Legolas, was when somehow an entire nest of spiders somehow managed to decorate your father's Throne Room with spider silk." Elladan folded his arms across his chest, a mirthful smile overcoming his otherwise darkened features.

Legolas' gaze drifted down and landed on the smiling twins. "Ah, yes." He paused, looking reflective. "But we regress. Where do you two plan on journeying so late in the day?" He quickly averted the incriminating conversation back to the sons of Elrond.

As the smiles immediately melted off the faces of Elladan and Elrohir, Legolas' eyebrows lowered, concern taking his own smile away from his face. Have I said something wrong? He wondered, noting the uncharacteristically dismal appearances of the twins' faces.

The silence stretched on for several moments before Elrohir looked back up at the Sindar. "It is Estel. We are about to leave in search of him."

Legolas processed this information. He had met Estel once before, but the boy had been quite young and Legolas hadn't taken a large amount of concern in him. "What has happened?" He questioned cautiously.

"I am afraid he had run off sometime last night. He left a note and departed through his window." Elladan's voice was quieter than usual. "We must find him."

Standing up straighter and abandoning his leaning position on the edge of the stable, Legolas paused before asking the next question. "Why has he run?"

Elladan sighed with a flash of guilt in the dark brown of his eyes. "He felt he was not worthy to live in Rivendell, that he was simply a hindrance. That is according to the letter that he left."

Legolas was beginning to feel like an interrogator, but he simply did not fully understand the situation yet. "But why would he say that?"

Elrohir spoke up this time. "Ada said that Estel was going through a period that is especially difficult for humans. In addition, Legolas, Estel was the only adan growing up in Imladris. A boy among elves, and he felt imperfect."

The wood-elf looked at the worried faces of his friends and quickly made up his mind. "Then I will help you find him."

"Legolas, you don't have to…" Elladan began, but was abruptly cut off by the grim smile of the blonde elf.

"He is your brother." Legolas simply stated, the smile fading into seriousness. "What sort of friend would I count myself to be, if I do not help out the kin of my friends?"

"A smart one." Elrohir lightly jested. "I know that you do not know Estel very well, mellonin, so you are by no means required to assist."

Legolas nodded solemnly. "Requirement is never the motivation behind my actions, Elrohir. It is by my care to you both as friends that I wish to help." He paused, looking at the slowly falling sun in the distance. "But it is important that we leave soon. The sun begins to settle in the western skies."

Elladan had moved further back into the stable, leaving Feäbrêg with Elrohir, in order to bring Legolas a fresh steed. "You will ride Gwanthi – she will prove faithful and true." The twin came forward again, followed by a strongly defined dappled gray mare. Her mane was silver like the sparkling frost of winter mornings, but her eyes darker than the depths of the distant oceans.

"Mae govannen, Gwanthi." Legolas quietly murmured, his thin hand gently stroking the mare's muscled neck. In return he received a contented whicker.

"Legolas son of Thranduil." A voice once again surprised the three elves from the entrance to the stables.

Legolas quickly jerked his head away from the horse and met eyes with Lord Elrond. The Sindar respectfully bowed to the Lord of Rivendell. "My lord."

"I see that you have successfully searched out my sons." The haunting of a smile passed over the elven lord's somber face. "What brings you to Imladris, Legolas?"

"The seasonal report, Lord Elrond." Legolas stopped himself there. He saw no reason to mention the other half of his reasoning for journeying to Rivendell.

A true smile, albeit short lived, graced Elrond's face. "And one would suppose that your journey has no ulterior purposes?"

"Of course not, my lord." The smirk on the blonde elf's face quickly gave him away.

"I realize that I am far better off not knowing, young heir." Elrond shook his head mirthfully.

"Aye, my lord, but I also bring a request to join your sons journey." Legolas's pristine face turned serious once more. "I wish to help."

Lord Elrond's face became somber at the mention of the search. "I see my sons have informed you of events that have transpired of late here?" The blonde elf before him nodded. "I will not prevent you from joining Elladan and Elrohir, but it is a direct ordinance that you do not get yourself injured. I do not wish to explain to Thranduil why his only son comes home in bandages."

"Nay, my lord, I promise you that no such message will be necessary. I simply wish to help." Legolas' face remained serious.

Sighing, Elrond nodded. "I know better than to try and stop you. I appreciate your willingness to help, Thranduilion." He paused again and looked at the anxious faces of his twin sons. "And as for you, Elladan and Elrohir, I do not want you coming home in need of bandaging either. Now tarry no longer. Off with you!" He swatted at the air with his hand for effect.

Elladan smiled and glanced at Elrohir who nodded knowingly. Without anymore warning, the twins raced over to Elrond and nearly bowled him over as they hugged him. "Don't worry, Ada, we'll be back soon!"

Lord Elrond could not hide the choked laughter that came from his throat. "Yes, my sons, I believe you both. But unless you release my neck from your steel grip, I will not be here when you return!" As the identical elves drew away, a laughing sparkle entered the older elf's eyes. "I do not think I need to worry about either of you, seeing as you have a grip that could choke a balrog."

A cheeky grin appeared on Elladan's face at his father's comment. "See, Father? We're perfectly capable elves!"

The Lord of Rivendell slowly shook his head. "That is not what I said, elfling." Before the insulted mahogany haired elf could defend himself against being considered an elfling, Elrond spoke again. "Now, you must go if you wish to leave this night. Evening is nigh."

Legolas stepped forward, wrapping one arm around the shoulders of Elladan and the other around Elrohir, effectively moving them in the direction of their horses. He glanced back at the Elven Lord, a smile sparkling in his ashen eyes. "Aye, Lord Elrond, we shall be on our way."

"Thank you Legolas. I expect you all to return safely." Lord Elrond bowed slightly, his own dark hair slipping forward and briefly hiding his dark, piercing eyes.

As all three mounted the waiting horses, a wave a sobering reality weighed down once again. "We will bring Estel back, Father." Elrohir spoke with assurance. Without waiting any longer, the trio of eldalië urged their horses into a canter, disappearing into the forests of Rivendell.

The elven lord stood motionlessly for a few moments, watching the younger elves depart. "I know you will." He quietly answered to the silence. "I know."

~*~*~*~*~

Estel jolted out of his pained sleep as he felt his body lose its balance on the branch he was sitting on. His hands grasped out franticly for whatever they could find. Gripping the branch beneath him, Estel managed to collect himself and avoid tumbling from the branches.

The teenager leaned back slightly, trying to calm his jagged breathing. The night had grown bitterly cold as the approaching autumn had settled her icy clutch on the land. His breaths puffed out in small, condensed clouds, floating off into the dark of the night. At this point, Estel had not been able to feel his injured leg for several hours as the cold had dulled it to numbness.

No longer could the youth find a comfortable position in the knobby heights of the branches - if comfortable could even be applied in this sort of situation. A despondent sigh escaped the teenager's frigid lips. It had been hours since the wolves had wandered off, readjusting their pack due to the change of leader. The old alpha male leader had been defeated by the two younger wolves and had forcibly fled his pack. For this Estel was glad, but gloom was seeping into his heart.

"What have I gotten myself into?" He softly questioned to the darkness around him. Estel's body trembled from the frosty air, but in the distance, streaks of light purple and deep pinks began to stain the eastern horizon. "Sunrise grows near and I cannot stay here in this tree forever."

Gritting his teeth, Estel pushed himself back against the rough trunk of the tree. He struggled to swing his good leg across the branch that he straddled, but with a little effort he was soon sitting sideways on the limb. His breath came out in strangled gasps as the feeling decided to return to his injured leg with a vengeance. Pain coursed up and down the appendage and unconsciously Estel dug his fingernails into the soft skin of his palm.

With no other available options, the sixteen-year-old adan pushed himself off the branch that he had perched on, quickly looping his arms around the girth, quickly halting his fall. He hung for several seconds, questioning the sanity of his plan to remove himself from the branches of the tree. At least three feet divided his body from the forest floor. Normally, this would be no issue; however, Estel currently was dealing with a nearly useless leg that was not entirely willing to support his body.

"Here goes nothing." Estel muttered, tightly shutting his eyes and releasing his grip on the tree.

The fall was short, but the minute his legs hit the ground, his injured left leg collapsed beneath him. The teenager's eyes flashed wide open, tears involuntarily springing to their lids. The pain erupted like fervid fireworks, briefly sending a flash of red across Estel's vision.

"By Eru…" His voice faltered as Estel try to cover up a pain filled groan. As he tried to move into a more compromising position, the throbbing pain in his leg flared up again. In order to stifle an impending cry, Estel placed his index finger in his mouth and roughly bit down. That pain provided enough distraction to his mind to prevent him from howling out his hurt.

A metallic ring suddenly ensnared Estel's attention. His gaze moved toward a clearing that was but twenty feet away. There stood a young man – Estel doubted that the boy was much older than himself. In his hand was a long, lethal looking sword, directed towards Estel.

"Who are you?" The young man's voice sounded as though he was attempting to force more roughness into it than what normally existed. Estel stared silently at the other teenager. His copper-tinged hair hung several inches above his shoulders. Confused hazel eyes met with Estel's own gray eyes before quickly breaking the gaze. However, despite the seemingly small age difference, this youth was much more broadly built.

Taking a step forward and holding the sword unwavering, the teenager questioned Estel once more. "I repeat myself, who are you, stranger?"

Estel took several shallow breaths, still trying to push down the overwhelming throb in his mangled leg. "Estel." There was no need to reveal any more. The young adan felt uncomfortable with the current situation, but was rather indisposed to do anything to change it.

The older teenager visibly narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing every inch of the other Man. Something seemed wrong about him; he wore strange clothes that seemed to fuse in with the surroundings. Never before had he seen garments that blended so well. Only in tales…

"Are you an Elf?" Some of the coarseness lifted from the teen's voice, replaced by the hint of wonderment.

Estel coughed back a scoff. "Me?" He turned his head slightly, his dark hair falling over his eyes. "I am no Elf."

"You do not wear the clothes of Men nor do you look like the Edain of the hunting parties. Your name is not normal. Where do you hail from?" As the older teen questioned, he slowly re-sheathed his dark sword, his curiosity overcoming his suspicion.

Blinking, Estel choked back his instinctive answer before answering. "Nowhere."

Unbelieving eyebrows were raised at the answer. Before the boy could reply, Estel jerked at the sound of a harsh voice and accompanying feet crashing through the woods. "My father!" The copper-haired youth's eyes widened and he glanced at the injured Estel.

Before any more words could be exchanged between the two, a much older and more frightening Man burst into the clearing. His eyes were ablaze and within seconds they settled upon the standing teenager who suddenly looked much younger than a few moments before.

"Father, I can explain." The young man struggled to stay strong, but his voice wavered in impending dread. "Please, just allow me to –"

Before the chestnut-haired teenager could finish his sentence, he found himself roughly struck across the face, snapping his head to the side with a crack. "You will explain nothing, Burnin. You have disobeyed me, once again! Were you not commanded not to leave camp without permission?"

Without looking up, Burnin nodded. His hair hung down and he covered the spot where he had been struck with his hand.

"Fool of a boy." The father's voice was cold, devoid of any remorse.

Estel inwardly cringed as the frigid gaze was redirected at him. "What do we have here?" Dark brown eyes, bordering on black, stared at the sixteen-year-old.

In a few short strides, Burnin's father reached the spot where Estel still sat on the ground. The large man tightly grasped the material of Estel's tunic and physically forced him onto his feet. Unable to put weight on his injured leg, Estel involuntarily let out a cry and began to collapse again.

"No you don't." The large man tightened his grip on the soft fabric of Estel's slate blue tunic and pulled him up again. Without warning, he slammed him back into the trunk of the tree. Caught unawares, Estel's skull collided with the solid trunk of the tree, sending an explosion of stars into action behind his eyelids.

Pinned against the tree and knocked half-senseless, there was little Estel could do to protect himself. Dark eyes stared at the teenager, narrowing in suspicion. "It's a damned Elf."

Struggling not to slip into merciful unconsciousness, Estel vaguely shook his head. "Not an Elf…" He whispered hoarsely, unable to speak any louder without creating more havoc regarding the beating of drums in his head.

Angered at the disagreement that the boy issued, Burnin's father roughly brushed back the hair from Estel's face. He stared sharply at the teenager's ears for several moments before looking Estel in the face once more. "What sort of half-breed are you?"

Estel's mouth opened to answer, but no words came out. He didn't know what he was. The realization made him feel even more nauseous, if that were possible.

"Burnin!" The man's voice was so thunderous that Estel couldn't help but cringe away from its harsh sound. "Come here, boy!"

The other teen appeared alongside his father, a blatant flaming red mark serving as a reminder as to where he had been struck. "What do you wish, Father?" Burnin's eyes stayed focused on the ground, his copper hair sweeping in front of his face.

"It's time to redeem yourself." There was a chilling tone in his voice that made Estel cringe. The copper-headed Burnin looked up slowly, his light brown eyes full of questions.

"Take out your sword." The simple command made the trapped adan's stomach drop to his feet.

Burnin's jaw dropped slightly, but almost automatically his sword was unsheathed, ringing ominously in the forest air. The teenager stared at it for a moment, his thoughts wavering back and forth. Slowly he met his father's expectant gaze. "But Father, we simply cannot commit cold-blooded murder. We already hunt in the realms of elves and I fear we may anger them further by an action such as this." The youth scrambled for some plausible excuse – anything to prevent the task his father had commanded of him.

The older man reached out and gripped Burnin's shoulder tightly and shook him lightly. "Then so be it! The elves have simply been trying to destroy the race of Men since our forefathers awakened so long ago. What cares should we have in their worries and concerns? They speak lies of Valar and gods – such things to try and frighten us back into the east. I care not if we anger them; this boy is none of their concern." *

Burnin opened and closed his mouth helplessly a few times, words escaping his grasp. "I cannot, Father. I am sorry, but I cannot do such a thing." The blazon-haired teen resolutely allowed his sword to fall loosely from his grasp and hit the forest floor with a dull thud.

His father stared with disbelief at his son. "You are no son of mine!" His hissed through clenched teeth, his dark eyes once again nearly glowing with rage. His grip released Estel, sending the pained teenager collapsing once again to the ground with a weak groan. "I will teach you to disobey a father's order, and you will forever think twice before opening your imbecilic mouth again!"

As Burnin's father raised a fist to strike down his own son, a carefully aimed arrow hurtled narrowly over his right shoulder, ripping through the thick material before embedding itself in the tree trunk behind him. His hand slowly dropped as he glanced as the still wobbling shaft that was firmly implanted in the wood behind him.

"It would be advisable to not strike the child again." A cold voice caught the attention of all three men. On the top of a small hill stood a lean, fair figure, holding a bow carefully re-notched with another arrow. Flaxen hair was drawn behind the being's back, hiding the full quiver that hung on his shoulder.

Shaking off the stunned expression on his face, Burnin's father replaced it with one of pure contempt. "Who are you to tell me what to do, elf?"

"Who are you to encroach the fair forests of the Lord of Rivendell, human?" The Quendi's voice matched the tone of the Man.

Estel had slowly recognized the elf that currently was facing off with his attacker. Only once or twice had he met this elf, but his appearance was unmistakable. "Legolas…" He managed to whisper, trying to push himself up.

A malicious grin spread over the face of Burnin's father as he realized that the strange teenager knew this elf. Faster than what Legolas could expect, the older man grabbed Estel and was within seconds holding a sharp blade beneath his chin. "Ready to die, mongrel?"

TBC

~* I know, I know! I promised two parts, but this thing keeps growing on me! Plus, who am I to resist a good cliff-hanger? ::angelic smile:: Okay, my new goal is to finish this thing in three parts, which I am confident that I can do. Possibly. That is unless some plot bunny attacks the premises of the story, then I have no control. Plot bunnies are vicious things and you don't want to mess with them….

Translations:

Feäbrêg – Wild Spirit

Gwanthi – Beauty

Mellonin – My friend

Eldalië – This is simply another word for elves (plural form). Tolkien gives an abundance of names to everything. Let's not even get started on the many names for Men. Aí!

Quendi – Yep, once again, just means elf.

Adan – Yes, the singular word for Man. One of many names given to the Men of Arda.

Edain – Just the plural of Adan. Ah, the greatness of Elvish grammar rules…

* This reference was made in accordance to some of the tales of the Silmarillion. In them, several of the houses of the edain believe that the elves are simply lying about the West and the Valar in an attempt to rule Middle-earth as their own. This was not any of the three recognized houses of edain however, but I am writing in the belief that Burnin's kin belong to these other houses. It is a simple conjecture – don't burst a hernia over it!