Thank you, elvendancer.  That is quite a compliment.

Yay, another eruption from Volcanic Plug!  (I'll bet you are sick of that pun.  I'll try to be more original next time.)

MoroTheWolfGod, you are glad that Anomen is hurt!  You are glad that Anomen is hurt!  Well, yeah, I guess is does add some interest to the story.

Jebb, it's sad what Thranduil is going through, but he is really going to cherish his son when he finally is reunited with him in, oh, about fifty years.

Farflung: Ah, Shakespeare.  Here's an appropriate line, I think: "Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive."

Well, dragonfly, I guess something like what I said to Jebb goes for you too.  Thranduil beats himself up thinking he didn't deserve his son, but by doing so he shows that in the end he does indeed deserve him.  And, believe me, he is going to dote on Legolas once he recovers him.

            "Ada, Ada," whimpered Anomen, his eyes squeezed shut against the throbbing in his chest.

            Anomen thought he heard someone replying, "I am here, îon-nin," but the words were muffled, as if spoken by someone on the other side of a wall.

            "Ada?"

            "Yes, my son."  The voice was clearer now.

            Anomen opened his eyes and found himself staring up into the face of Elrond.  Bewildered, he stammered, "Where—Where— "  He stopped.  Of course.  Elrond was his father now.  How could he have forgotten?

            Calming himself, Anomen cautiously inquired as to the fate of the King of Northern Mirkwood.

            "Ada, Thranduil was ambushed by half-goblins.  Is he yet alive?"

            "Yes, he escaped unscathed.  You were the only one seriously injured in that skirmish."

            "That is good.  The alliance is yet unbroken."

            Elrond nodded.  "But do not concern yourself about such matters, my son.  You have slept long.  Are you thirsty? hungry?"

            "A little thirsty, yes.  But I am forgetting Thoron!  Is he well?"

            "Yes.  As I said, only you were seriously injured.  Thoron escaped with a few scratches from the branches that whipped him as he slid down a tree in his haste to reach you once he realized that you were injured."

            "Where is he?"

            "Sleeping at last.  I took the liberty of slipping a little something into his wine."

            "Ada!"

            Elrond handed Anomen a goblet filled with water-diluted wine.  Anomen stared at it suspiciously.  Elrond laughed.

            "Anomen, you have just woken up.  I have put nothing in this glass that will make you sleepy."

            Reassured, Anomen sipped a little of the beverage.  As he did so, he discovered that he was hungry, too.

            "Ah, that is a good sign," said Elrond when Anomen asked him if he could have a little something to eat.  "You gave us quite a fright, Anomen, but now you are awake and talking and drinking and eating."

            "And fighting again soon, I hope."

            "No, Anomen, for you this war is over.  It is true that you now seem to be recovering swiftly, but you must not forget that you suffered a chest wound.  I'll wager it still hurts when you breathe deeply."

            "It does throb," Anomen conceded., "but—ow!"

            Anomen had tried to take a deep breath.  Elrond smiled grimly.

            "You see, Anomen, you have proved me right."

            "But, Ada," exclaimed an alarmed Anomen, "you wouldn't have me evacuated with the injured, would you!  You cannot mean to send me to Thranduil's Hall!"

             "Shhh," said Elrond soothingly.  "Of course I would not send you to Thranduil's Hall.  In a few days, when you are a little stronger, I shall send you to the Rohirrim encampment.  Baramagor shall go with you.  He will retrieve his horse, and you will ride with him to Lothlórien.  I shall send a message to the leader of the Rohirrim asking that he provide an escort for you, as there may be Orcs and wargs lurking along the path to Lórien."

            "Very well, Ada," said a much-relieved Anomen.  "But I can ride my own horse.  I do not need to ride with Baramagor."

            "You will ride with Baramagor," said Elrond sternly, raising his eyebrows in a most alarming fashion.

            "Yes, Ada," said Anomen hastily.  "As you wish."

            Elrond relaxed.  "Good.  I am glad that we are agreed.  Ah, here is your friend Thoron.  Up so soon, Thoron?  I must not have dosed you as thoroughly as I thought.  Well, I shall leave Thoron to entertain you.  I must have a word with Mithrandir.  Stay well, my son."

            "Thank you, Ada."

            Elrond left the tent and went in search of Mithrandir.  Along the way he encountered Thranduil.

            "How is the young Elf—Durrandîr—is that not so?" asked Thranduil.

"Yes," replied Elrond carefully, "Durrandîr.  He is much better.  I thank you for your concern."  He changed the subject.  "Have you seen Mithrandir hereabouts?"

"Yes, he is at the tent of the Lord of Lothlórien."

"Thank you."

Elrond strode off quickly, and Thranduil watched him go with eyes narrowed by suspicion and envy.

"I am sure that Durrandîr is something more than the foster-son of Elrond.  Yes, he is something much, much more than that!"

As Thranduil had said, Mithrandir was at the tent of the Lord of Lothlórien.  Celeborn and the Istar were sitting companionably in the sun just outside the door flap.

"Ah, Elrond," Mithrandir greeted him, "how does Anomen?"

"Durrandîr, if you please, when Mirkwood Elves are near."

"Oh, yes, of course.  My apologies.  And?"

"And he is awake, hungry, thirsty, and more talkative than he should be.  At first I was afraid that he might have suffered a head injury that we were not aware of, for when he awoke he did not seem to recognize me.  After a moment's confusion, however, he knew who I was and he seemed quite clear-headed from that point onward."

Mithrandir looked sideways at Elrond but said nothing.  Elrond turned toward the Lord of Lothlórien.

"Celeborn, in a few days I will send Durrandîr to Lothlórien."

"Do you desire an escort of Galadhrim to accompany him?"

"No, I do not wish to pull more warriors from the battle than absolutely necessary.  He will ride with Baramagor, and I shall ask the Rohirrim to provide an escort."

"Baramagor, not Thoron?"

"Yes, Baramagor is among the least experienced of the warriors and so can be spared most easily.  He has already served once as an escort for the wounded, so this will not be a new duty for him.  Moreover, truth be told, it might be best for Baramagor to be away from the frontline for a few days.  He has only just found the 'stomach' for battle, and I fear that, should he be pushed overly hard, he may lose it yet again.

"It is a terrible thing to have one's stomach in one's mouth, is it not?" mused Celeborn with a straight face.

"Shall we not change the subject," interrupted Mithrandir.  "I have just eaten lunch."

"Why, Mithrandir," exclaimed Elrond, professing to be astonished, "I did not know that you had a weak stomach."

"And I did not know," replied Mithrandir, "that the Lords of Imladris and Lothlórien delighted in exchanging elfling humor.  Next you shall be complimenting me on my dancing, no doubt!"

"Ah, now you mention it, Mithrandir," said Elrond, a glint in his eyes, "I was admiring your footwork last night.  I have never seen steps executed with such, such flair."

"Yes," Celeborn joined in.  "Indeed, Mithrandir, your footwork was so exceptional that at first I took you for a tumbler rather than a dancer."

"If you had had such a partner as I had last night, no doubt you would have done some tumbling yourself.  And do not forget that in the end I handed my partner his head!  Oh, and Elrond," the wizard added, "were you not doing some tumbling yourself last night?  I am certain that I observed you performing flips at one point."

"Yes, well, agility is to be desired in a warrior, is it not?" replied Elrond with mock gravity.

"Ah, so cartwheeling down a slope until stopped by a tree is now to be accounted agility, is that so?" said the Istar.

Their raillery of one another was interrupted by the approach of Thranduil and Glorfindel, for all had agreed to meet after the noon hour for another war council.  Thranduil noted with displeasure that Elrond was relaxed and smiling.

"I must stop this," he scolded himself.  "It is not Elrond's fault that he has sons and to spare, and I shall go mad if I continue to think on it."

Thus resolved, Thranduil nodded politely at Elrond and the others and took his place in the circle.

Celeborn spoke first.  "The forces of Dol Guldur have tried to dislodge us repeatedly and have repeatedly failed.  But we are no nearer victory for that.  We hold the same positions as we did when we first laid siege to the tower."

"True," said Elrond.  "And whilst our losses have been no greater than those of our foes, they can endure numerous casualties better than we can.  Orcs breed prodigiously; Elves do not.  It will be many generations, if ever, before our numbers are restored."

"What are you saying?" demanded Thranduil.  "Do you propose abandoning the siege and leaving the Greenwood Elves—my people—to face the wrath and vengeance of a power that you advised me to stir up by this assault on Dol Guldur?"

"We advise no such thing," said Mithrandir.  "The tower cannot be taken by outright assault; nor will it fall to siege without the loss of many Elven lives.  But there is another way.  There is a secret way, a dark way, that leads into the tower.  I myself have used it to penetrate that tower in days past.  The passageway is difficult to negotiate, but it can be done by such as assay it with a steadfast spirit.  We must make as if to launch an all-out assault upon Dol Guldur, but not in the vicinity of the opening to the secret corridor.  Let the attack focus on the side of the tower furthest from that place.   Whilst our enemy preoccupied by the attack, I shall lead a small force into Dol Guldor.  It is from within that the tower must be taken."

Glorfindel concurred.  "We need to adopt such a stratagem, for we will never defeat the enemy through strength of arms alone."

Thranduil had to grudgingly concede that such tactics might be the only way to prevail.

"Very well.  But we must do it properly.  Our biggest and strongest warriors must be sent on this mission."

"I do not think so," said Elrond.  "This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong.  We must place our trust in secrecy, and even the mightiest Elves of the Elder days would not avail us in this case."

"I agree," said Mithrandir.  "Even if we were to choose for this task an elf-lord such as Glorfindel, we would gain nothing thereby.  The small have as much chance of success in this as the great.  Nay, the small will have an advantage over the great in the place through which I plan to lead our warriors.  Indeed, it is a pity that we do not have a Dwarf on hand.  Or," he added thoughtfully, "a Halfling or two."

"But," he went on briskly, ignoring Thranduil's snorted 'hmph', "we have neither Dwarf nor Halfling, so we must select such small and agile Elves as seem good to us.  As for myself, I wish I were a little shorter, but I will dispense with cloak and hat and make my way as best I can through the narrow passageway.  I have done it before.  But do not expect me to be a model of gracefulness for the Elves who will follow in my wake!"

"Thoron," suggested Glorfindel.  "Thoron would be an excellent choice."

"And my sons Elladan and Elrohir," said Elrond.

"Both your sons, Elrond?" asked Mithrandir.  "Are you sure you wish to venture both?"

"One will hardly remain behind if the other goes forth.  And if this mission should fail, then I might as well have ventured both sons as one, for I deem that the power in Dol Guldur will be fully unleashed once it is revealed that we were desperate enough to trust our fate to this throw."

"Haldir will go forth for Lothlórien," offered Celeborn.

"Which means," said Mithrandir dryly, "Rúmil and Orophin as well, unless you would like Elrond here to drug them for the duration."

Thranduil well nigh ground his teeth.  He had no son to send, and he knew not the names of the younger Elves under his command, for he had made a point of ignoring them, surrounding himself only with full-grown Elves who did not remind him of his son.  He spoke reluctantly.

"I will ask Gilglîr his opinion as to which of the Greenwood Elves it would be best to send."

"Of course, Thranduil," said Elrond.  "We should have had Gilglîr to this council.  My apologies."

 Thranduil nodded curtly and arose.  "It is decided then.  A small force of Elves, likewise small, shall follow Mithrandir into the hidden way that leads into Dol Guldur.  May the Valar protect them in their quest."

All arose and joined him in that prayer.  Their future would, it seemed, hinge upon those who would have been pitiful and trifling in the eyes of the lord of Dol Guldur.