Sorry, it's the 9th through the 13th, not the 12th. Either way, I'll be gone, lol.

School's started. It's evil, and frankly, my professors are making it sound like boot camp. I really am not going to have any time, so my updates will more than likely become once a week.

Now's a good time to mention that this is a good Thranduil fic. Thranduil is a good, loving dad with some flaws, okies?

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Legolas doubled over, pain overwhelming him.

"Get up, prince." Oropher spat the title out as a slur. Legolas did not move. "No? You won't fight? What if I gave you your knives back?"

Legolas raised his eyes to meet those of his grandfather.

"You heard me. I'll give you your knives back, and we'll duel."

Legolas looked to Elrohir, still being held back. They shared the same thought: the elder elf had lost his mind.

Legolas weighed the idea of a duel in his head. He didn't want to fight his grandfather, but it had come to self-preservation. If he didn't fight, he would surely die. Elrohir too would die. He wouldn't be able to rescue his father, and Mirkwood would fall to ruins. It was his duty as a prince to fight.

Elrohir could see the prince's mind spinning. He saw Legolas' logic in his eyes, and smiled a bit as Legolas slowly nodded his head.

Oropher smiled, pulling two long blades from his belt and sliding them across the floor to Legolas.

Legolas picked them up slowly, and locked eyes with his relative.

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Legolas gripped his knives tightly, his injured arm protesting slightly. He refused to make the first move, but once his grandfather attacked, it was fair game.

He ducked as Oropher lunged. He then spun away from the next blow, only to stop short as he had to knock away another blow.

It became clear that Oropher knew what he was doing, and he was doing it well. Elrohir noticed a change in Legolas at that moment. He abandoned his defensive nature, delivering his own blows instead of just blocking.

"You fight well," the older elf commented in a would-be lazy manner. "I taught you well."

"You taught me nothing," Legolas ground out through gritted teeth. He was far more scared than he would admit to, and his body hurt far too much for the strain Legolas was putting on it.

"Exactly. A good thing too. If I had, you might be a match for me."

Legolas leapt forward in attack- exactly as Oropher had planned. Legolas spun, barely missing the blade waiting for him. Another slash appeared in front of him. He stumbled backwards to avoid it just as Oropher moved forward to meet him.

For one fleeting moment, Legolas had thought he might have a chance. Then, a blade came to rest on his throat. The prince did not know where the other one was.

"It seems," Oropher whispered delightfully in his ear, "that you have lost."

Elrohir caught Legolas' eye. There was a great panic resting there. 'Do it,' he willed. 'Do it.'

Legolas knew he had a way out of this. He had been in this situation before, and escaped it before. But he couldn't bring himself to do what needed to be done.

Brilliant pain erupted from his stomach as metal was driven into it. Legolas was barely aware of Elrohir calling his name. The world moved in slow motion as he thrust one of his own blades back. He turned quickly to catch his grandfather and lower him gently to the ground.

"I am so sorry," he whispered. One hand moved subconsciously to his own wound.

"Don't be," the man grabbed hold of his knives again and drove one into Legolas' right shoulder. Legolas was shocked. The two elves locked eyes, and Legolas could see a second of regret in his grandfather's. Then it was gone; the elf smiled wickedly, and twisted the blade before pulling it out. Legolas slumped forward, trying to ward off the pain. His grandfather attacked relentlessly. He was calculating his moves very carefully. He also knew that Legolas was quickly losing energy and would spend what was left of it on blocking; he wouldn't attack.

Legolas dropped the blade in his right hand and held it to his stomach. Things had gone from bad to worse very quickly.

He cringed as another blow went un-blocked and met his forearm.

'It would be so much easier to just quit. And sleep.' Legolas shook himself, mentally. 'You are a prince, Legolas. You do not quit. You do not take the easy way out. Your father taught you better than that.'

"That's right, Legolas. Even now your father's approval means more than your own life."

In one last desperate move, Legolas threw his blade away from him, towards his attacker. In seconds, the elf fell, dead.

One of the three guards left Elrohir and moved towards Legolas. The prince steadied himself on the wall. Reaching out a hand, he stopped the guard.

"He is not your king. You are in Lord Thranduil's land. You will break no more of our laws. You will take this man up to the guards that you will find at the top of the stairwell. You will release the elf you now have."

Legolas spoke with a strong authority. The elves obeyed immediately, quickly and effortlessly taking Tarduain into custody.

Elrohir rushed forward, ignoring the strangeness of how quickly the elves obeyed Legolas. "Legolas, are you all right?"

The prince smiled up at him. "It's only a flesh wound."

Elrohir shook his head. "Come on, I fear you've lost a lot of blood." He looked at Legolas carefully. He seemed to be having trouble focusing his vision. He added, "You may feel slightly dizzy when you move."

"I'm fine, Elrohir. I am fine."

Elrohir did not say anything as Legolas pushed off the wall. He tentatively opened the door at the back of the cell.

"Ada!"

"Onya! You fought back!"

Elrohir stood in the doorway, confusion dancing in his demeanor. After the look of relief in Legolas eyes. there was something else. 'Apprehension?' Elrohir thought. 'No, it's shame.' He glanced at Thranduil, who had risen to his feet. There was an odd expression in his eyes as well. 'Judgment.' Elrohir did not have anymore time to muse over it. Legolas fell to the stone floor, completely unconscious.

Thranduil, who looked just as bedraggled as his son, shot a sharp gaze at Elrohir. "What happened to him?" He demanded.

Elrohir did not answer, however. He heard someone calling his name. 'Ada,' he thought. He rushed back out into the empty hallway. He could not believe it.

"Artarya! Elladan!"

"Elrohir!" Elladan swept his brother into a tight embrace. "I was so worried we would not find you alive."

"Father let you come back?"

"Your brother didn't give me much choice in the matter."

"You're timing isn't what it used to be." Elrohir replied to his father. "I fear we may have lost Legolas."

"Where is he?"

Elrohir led Lord Elrond into the back room where Thranduil was inspecting his son's wounds.

The lord of Mirkwood looked at Lord Elrond. "He is alive, but only just."

A silence followed that Elrohir felt compelled to break. He went on and on, retelling the last few days that he and Legolas had experienced. He told the two lords everything that he knew happened to Legolas, and everything he thought might have happened. "And he's killed his grandfather, and he thought he killed Tarduain."

Thranduil made no reaction to the last statement, but Elrond gently shook his head. "Let's get him to the healers."

The two elven lords pushed past the twins. Elrohir stood in quiet shock, the possibility of losing Legolas becoming very real. Just like it had been so many centuries ago.

"How did you get past the guards?"

Elladan looked at his twin, then led him out into the hallway where several Noldor elves were pushing along the Mirkwood guards. "It was actually Calandra who found out where you were."

The said she elf looked up at the sound of her name, and smiled warmly at Elrohir. "How do you fare?"

Elrohir shrugged. "Better than some."

Elladan walked his brother back up the flights of stairs towards the main hall. "We were getting past all the guards when one of them mentioned something about Legolas. He was scared, like he thought he would be killed for giving the information out. She was closest to him, and the only one of us that heard him, so she took him aside. He told her everything, and for which we are glad. We would have never found you had it not been for that. Really, how are you?"

"I'm worried about Legolas. That is all. No injuries, really."

Elladan nodded and did not pursue the subject. They walked the rest of the way to Legolas' room in silence.

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Elrohir watched quietly from his chair in the corner of the room. Thranduil, his father, and three other healers stood around Legolas' bed, fighting to keep him alive.

'I'll never forgive myself if he doesn't make it.' It was his duty to protect Legolas. He refused to believe he had failed.

"One day, Elrond, we have to arrange a meeting when our sons are safe and times are palatable."

Elrohir noted the cool detachment in Lord Thranduil's voice. 'He's preparing himself for the worst,' he thought. 'He's bracing himself should Legolas not live.'

"As he drifts closer to consciousness, his body will start reacting to our ministrations."

Thranduil nodded. "He will not trust us. I know."

"It will be worse than before."

Thranduil said nothing. At length, he nodded his head, dismissing the other healers. He turned to Elrohir.

"No," Elrond said gently. "He'll know Elrohir. Of all of us, he will trust Elrohir the most."

Thranduil looked at Elrond's son doubtfully.

"I'll leave," Elrohir offered.

"You don't have to," his father countered. Thranduil nodded slightly.

"I will. If you can't control him when he awakes, just call for me." He knew full well that he wouldn't be able to get any nearer to Legolas' logic than they would. He could not calm his friend down. Not now, at least. He turned to leave, but a question had been haunting him for hours. "Lord Thranduil?"

The elf looked at him.

"Legolas looked, well, shameful when he first came to you."

Thranduil understood the question behind the statement. "As so he should have."

"He saved your life!" How could Legolas' father say that about him?

"Elrohir," Elrond's voice stopped his son from any further discussion. "Go find your brother."

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It was no wonder Legolas' was the way he was. No one wonder why his archery was legendary; they all marked it off as natural talent. In Legolas' case, it was perfectionism. Nothing Legolas did would ever be good enough for Thranduil. His son would never be what Thranduil thought he ought to be, and Legolas knew that. The more Elrohir thought about it, the clearer it became. Legolas would downplay his injuries so as not to show weakness. Legolas did not want to be weak in his father's eyes. More than anything, he just wanted to please his father.

Thranduil loved his son. Elrohir knew that too. Relief had passed through his eyes before the judgment had. He was happy to see his son alive. He had been extremely worried when Legolas fell unconscious. But there was always judgment, behind everything.

He couldn't imagine if he had the same type of relationship with his own father. With Elrond, there was only love. He knew what to expect from the twins, and he didn't hold them to a higher standard than he thought they could reach. Instead of judgment, love was underneath everything. But Thranduil knew that whatever standard he held for Legolas, his son would do whatever possible to reach it. He used Legolas' love against him.

The Noldor elf paced restlessly through the halls of Mirkwood's castle. He let his mind wander, not wanting to focus on the growing dread of Legolas' state. He didn't know if he could handle Legolas' death. It would have been his fault, and he certainly could not live with that. He wondered back to the prince's room, which he found surprisingly empty. He almost smiled to himself, "We have to stop making a habit out of this, Legolas."

"No habit, I promise."

Elrohir nearly jumped. His friend was awake, but his eyes were closed and his voice filled with pain.

"Legolas?"

"Yes."

Elrohir shuddered. There was such pain and sadness in his friend's voice.

"I think I am dying." It was an admission that Legolas loathed making, but he could no longer deny it.

Elrohir felt the blood drain from his face. "Oh no, by the Valar no. Don't say that, Legolas."

"It would be okay if I did."

"No!" Elrohir was vehement, more so than he meant to be. "You are so young, you have so many years ahead of you. Don't give them up to this! You can beat this!"

No reply came to Elrohir. Legolas was dying and he couldn't stop it.

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Hey all you wonderful reviewers you:

Nikki: Hey, I don't care how many times, lol. And you are fun! Thank you for the long review, and I am so, so, sooooooo glad that you like this!

Bec: A reprieve? I have to start tomorrow. Lol, homework motivation? Maybe I need to look at it that way, that's a good idea. Yes, his tendency to act noble does land him in a bunch of trouble. It's not over yet, either! ::wink:: And I'm so glad the flashback worked well, for at least one person!

HalandLeg4ever: They are my favourite two elves as well! Thanks for the luck wishing. I'm not very excited though, lol. Thank you for the compliment! Always good to hear! Thank you!

Sky: I don't need to add the 14 to your name, do I? That was just FF.net's choice, right? Anyway, good, I was hoping I did the flashback all right. I usually don't do those, so , yay! Yes, more contrast too. I was trying for that, and waiting to see if you mentioned it. And update when you find the time!

Gilraen3: Lol, now, if this is gonna be a Legolas/Aragorn friendship SERIES, I can't very well let Legolas die, can I? And I like Elrohir too much to let him die. However, pain is not off limits!

ElizabethBlack4: Wow, I think that was the most passionate anyone's gotten in a review, and I think it's also the first time one of my reviewers called Legolas a pansy. But are you a bit more satisfied with Legolas' fighting choices? Thanks for the review and have fun at school. (Ick.)

GredFeorge: Hm, well, hope, and it shall be. Lol. Thanks for the review! And yes, 11 poor leggy's!

LPI3: Thank you so much!

Artemisa: Ah, thanks!