(Author's note: This chapter may be a bit bloody, but that is part of war, whether on our Earth or Middle-Earth. Reconciliations and promises ahead. Chapter 10 will jump ahead to the Prince of Mirkwood's departure to Rivendell. Please enjoy ! - Rilwen)

-=~**The Prodigal's Son**~=-

Chapter 9

Legolas was packing and trying to take only what was completely necessary. Rivendell was over 150 leagues away, and he could not bother having the burden of a heavy pack along with his weapons. No doubt Gelebrin could withstand the weight, but Legolas was Elf –kind; he could journey farther and faster than Man, requiring less stopping and camping. This was a skill that would serve him well along the dangerous road. For now he focused on clothing and gear, including a hunting knife with a jeweled handle, probably a gift to his father from the Dwarves long ago. For a sour moment Legolas was amazed Thranduil had given it to him when he was still young.

The Elf Prince stood back from his belongings and double-checked them. Everything was now in place for his trip to Rivendell after weeks of preparation. He had mixed feelings about the journey he would soon take. On one hand, Legolas was excited to finally come up with a plan of action and get it underway. He hoped to see Aragorn and perhaps Gandalf; the two had always been connected in some way, and with Aragorn's relations to Lord Elrond Legolas doubted he would be not be present. On the other hand, the perilous outcomes of the Council's possible decisions frightened him. So many possibilities he saw, but he could not think of one that did not involve war and bloodshed. Many strangers would come to Rivendell to make their stories known, who knew what they would say? What happened in the lands that even Legolas and his far-seeing eyes could not see from his home? He picked up an arrow and examined the shaft, an ill feeling had come to his stomach.

There was a knock at his door and he was surprised to see his own father stride into the room. Legolas bowed, his right hand to his heart.

"What do you need, my father?"

"I came to speak with you about your journey."

Legolas was not thrilled. Thranduil took the liberty of having a seat and inspecting his son with watchful bright eyes. The King scratched at his chin, and the rings on his fingers glittered in the dim lantern light.

"I know as of late you and I have not been on the greatest of terms. We have all been under great stress and faced many dangers, and those times do not always bring out the best of our personalities."

The King's son stood tall, no expression on his fair and handsome face. He matched his father's eyes with his own, and he could not determine if Thranduil meant this to be a heartfelt conversation or not. Legolas spoke.

"Times such as these weed out the careless and weak-minded from those who are noble and true."

Thranduil laughed and Legolas blinked in confusion. He had been dead serious, he had intended his comment as a direct stab at his father's foolish behavior. What was Thranduil doing?

"I see I do not need to worry about you my son. You will represent my Kingdom well, and I hope all your little friends and yourself can come up with a solution to this madness. Despite what you may think, we both want to see Greenwood restored. I have despaired too quickly, Legolas, and I am glad to see that your heart is of a greater strength and determination. When your day comes, you will make a great King."

Legolas smiled from ear to ear and bowed to his father.

"Come and embrace me, my son and heir."

The King gave a gentle smile as he shared a hug with Legolas. The Prince was overjoyed and in a state of disbelief at the same time. Whatever had come over his father, he would thank the Valar for it many times along the way to Rivendell. Thranduil then suggested they take a walk, and side by side they went through his caverns. As they neared the Upper Hall the doors to the underground abode were thrown open, and three bloodied Elves were backlit by the sun. Two of them were supporting the third Elf whose leg was so injured amputation may be the only resolution for it. Legolas watched in horror as he recognized the third had been Mandil, and Tirinvo was supporting one of the Elf's arms. The Prince immediately ran over to them, as did Thranduil who then yelled for healers. The Elves did not bow to their royalty, for they could barely stand. Tirinvo spoke.

"The tree was attacked by orcs and Gollum has escaped…we sent a-"

"- Escaped?!" Thranduil fumed. "There were more than enough guards to watch over that wretched thing!"

Legolas aided the healers in putting Mandil onto a stretcher. They also came to tend to the other guard. Tirinvo remained behind, fuming with anger. Blood matted his dark hair to his face. His garments were soiled and soaked with blood and filth from battle, and he was limping. Legolas could see he had taken a blow to his ankle, for he had removed his boot due to the amount of swelling. The Elf soldier did not hold back this time.

"Apparently there were not! It was slaughter, do you not understand?! We are part of the few who survived, if you even think Mandil will with such an injury! Those who went after Gollum have probably perished as wel,l and if any remained alive on the battlefield we fled before we can find them! The ground is roaring thunder with Orc feet trampling it from afar! There are hundreds on the way, the forces of Sauron have been unleashed."

The energy and fever behind his arguing, added to the mass amount of blood loss made Tirinvo collapse. Legolas caught him with aid from another guard who had come to see the commotion. Mandil and Tirinvo had come back, but barely.

Where is Berdir?

Without word Legolas handed the unconscious Elf over and fled the halls to the horse stables. Thranduil's voice calling back to him faded as Legolas ran farther away, but Legolas did not heed him. He sprang from the ground and onto Gelebrin's back, kicking hard speeding off.

"Noro lim, Gelebrin! Travel as swift as your body allows."

Legolas did not know the exact location of the tree. He rode on and on, barely allowing Gelebrin to rest between changing speeds as he looked for his friend. He couldn't risk calling out to him; that would further reveal his location if orcs hadn't already seen the glowing creatures dashing through paths and around trees. Suddenly the smell of blood and innards reached Legolas' nostrils. He opened his senses of sight and sound as much as possible, looking for a way to go next. His heart was racing and his mouth had gone dry, but again he urged Gelebrin forward. The horse halted and reared up, neighing loudly. Legolas had to hold onto the horse's mane tightly for he had been caught off guard and nearly lost balance. A cry escaped him as he saw the scene that caused Gelebrin's response.

All around him, in pools of their own blood, decorated with guts and gore were the mangled bodies of orcs and Elves. Some axes and swords were stuck to the tree trunks, others remained in the bodies they had fatally wounded. Arrows pierced orc eye and stomach, some were stuck to the ground, and others were stuck at strange angles in the trees; wayward shots probably, a last attempt that had gone wrong. He could almost see the Elf archer, ready to loose his bow on a dark creature of Mordor, and suddenly his raven hair is pulled back, exposing his neck to death from an orc blade. They were all dead. Legolas fought back tears, the grief he felt caused him physical pain as he let himself accept the sight of the war zone. He dismounted Gelebrin and walked amongst the bodies on the ground, looking for his dear friend. He hoped he was one of the Elves who had pursued Gollum, and now hid somewhere awaiting the right time to go home. Then they would laugh about some stupidity and practice Westron again as they sharpened knives or made arrows…

He continued to walk. There were more Elven bodies than had been assigned to guard Gollum, the others must have heard or seen the fight and come to help.

So much for war and glory.

Out of the corner of his eye Legolas thought he saw a body stir. It was the slightest movement, a finger's twitch or an eye's blink; movement nonetheless. He rushed to the body and was horrified to discover it was Berdir, nearly maimed beyond recognition. His friendly face was badly bruised and he bled profusely from a cut that ran down his eye to his cheek, if he lived Legolas doubted he could ever use that eye again. Grass and leaves were tangled in his hair, and the little armor he had showed many signs of the blows it received. An orc ax and broken arrow shaft lay nearby.Legolas knelt beside his friend and took his hand, feeling the pulse. He barely sensed one at all.

"Berdir do not speak! Save your energy, I can put you on Gelebrin and take you to the healers. You have been spared!"

If Berdir wished to speak, he could not. The only acknowledgment he gave Legolas was a blink. His bright eyes were glazed. The Elf's lips parted to draw a quiet breath of air. Legolas wanted to shake him as if that would bring Berdir out of a simple daze and help him hop back to his feet, or yell to the Valar to come down and restore his life. He thought of every chant he could think of, any possible way he could help his friend, but he could not think of anything that would work. He waited for healers or for the King. Why had no one been sent after him?

Berdir struggled a moment, then his eyes slowly turned to Legolas. He wiped blood from his friend's face and was shocked at the coldness of his skin. Blood trailed from the corner of Berdir's lips. With a final bit of strength, Berdir spoke again, his thoughts were jumping from one thing to the next and his grip on Legolas' hand was loosening.

"Sing when you finally see Her."

Berdir moved suddenly and he cried out, trembling and gasping for air. The action to grab Legolas' arm had caused terrible pain, and despite Legolas' pleas to remain still, Berdir stubbornly shook his head and forced Legolas to look at him. The fire in the Elves eyes had re-kindled one last time.

"For Elven glory, Legolas…for our Greenwood."

He waited until Legolas nodded, until his Prince gave him a final promise that his death would not be in vain. Berdir nodded, tears wetting his eyes, and eased back to the ground. Then the light from his eyes was gone, and his last breath was taken, and Berdir soldier of Mirkwood passed on.