Chapter III

"Sire! Over here, Sire!" an Elven warrior's call drew the attention of the king away from his wife who was tending to an unconscious Enetheru. "My king! I have found the prince's blanket!"

Not missing a beat, Thranduil raced into the woods towards the cry of the warrior. When he reached the Elven man he froze in disgust at the scene before him. Two Orcs lay dead, killed by each other's swords. Next to one of them lay his child's blanket. Moving slowly, Thranduil picked up the embroidered piece of cloth and ran his thumb over the royal coat of arms upon it, lost in a dream-like state. His son, his only child, his baby boy was gone… he had to be…No. He could not be. He was strong like his mother, he must have survived.

"My Lord, the tracks come from this direction. Shall we follow them?"

Thranduil finally looked up at the Elven soldier. "Yes, but, wait... no. We shall wait for the queen, and then we shall follow them. Please, go and bring her here."

The soldier trotted off to where Meneliel kneeled; now gently speaking to a conscious Enetheru. "It's alright, it was not your fault."

"But My Lady, I have failed you," the maiden's voice was weak.

Meneliel smiled sweetly. "Of course you haven't. No one knew those Orcs were going to attack. You did your best. We will find the prince. You just get some rest now." A healer began to dab at the wound to Enetheru's temple.

"My Lady, I am so sorry. He was such a good baby…" Enetheru was being pulled into the land of sleep quickly now.

Meneliel almost burst into tears. "He was a good baby… he is a good baby and I shall find him."

"My Lady!"

Meneliel jerked her head up and away from the now sleeping form of Enetheru to face the soldier who had addressed her.

"The king and I have discovered some tracks; we wait only for you to follow them."

Without even responding, Meneliel lifted the hem of her dress as she leapt to her feet, racing off out of the glade and into the woods where she knew her husband to be. She would find her baby. She had to find her baby, for she could not live without him.

Svanhild looked out of the temple window at the darkening skies of night. Thank the gods they had found the child when they did, the thought of him being out there alone…

She turned her attention back towards the more lively goings-on inside the temple as she heard the baby boy giggle once more. The women of the place were all crowded around, the evening meal long forgotten as they all vied for attention from the child. Gudrid, an elderly woman who had raised many orphaned children in her time and was a leader among the priestesses, had even made the baby belly-laugh on a few occasions, causing joy among the women. "You are like a shining star, little child of the woods," Gudrid was saying, her wrinkled an weathered face creased in smile.

"He's our little bright one," Ranveig grinned from her resting place in the corner of the room.

Gudrid smiled over at the new priestess. "We shall call him Delling, shining, for he is our shining one. He has brought hope where it seemed lost." As if understanding, the young prince blew a raspberry with his tongue in between his lips, causing Gudrid and the others to laugh.

"Then he truly must be a gift from the gods, Svanhild," Ranveig looked over at her fellow priestess who smiled back hopefully. "A gift from the heavens."

One of the other priestess had begun to play a tune on her harp. While the music fell into the background for most, Ranveig listened carefully and reflectively. When the tune began anew her haunting voice filled the air and echoed off of the stone walls of the temple, causing all conversation to cease and all ears to turn to her.

"Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child
By by, lully, lullay, thou little tiny child
By by, lully lullay

O sisters too, how may we do
For to preserve this day
This poor youngling
For whom we do sing
By by, lully lullay?

Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child
By by, lully, lullay

Herod, the king
In his raging
Chargèd he hath this day
His men of might
In his own sight,
All young children to slay

Lully, thou little tiny child
By by, lully, lullay

That woe is me
Poor child for thee!
And every morn and day,
For thy parting
Neither say nor sing
By by, lully lullay!

Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child
By by, lully, lullay."

When her song ended, a profound silence remained. They all knew what the consequences would be if any in Herod's service discovered the child. He would be slain and they would be lucky if all of them escaped with their lives as well, yet every one of them was willing to risk it.

Ozzzzzzz⌠∑::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Gudrid is a Norse female name meaning "divinely inspired wisdom."

Delling is a Norse male name meaning "shining"

(Sources: same as last chapter)

Lyrics are from COVENTRY CAROL
Words from the Pageant of the Shearmen and Tailors (15th cent). Music traditional, arranged and adapted by Loreena McKennitt

You can hear the beginning of it here: . quinlanroad. com/mp3s/ coventry.mp3 (Without the spaces though, of course, I had to put those in to disguise it as an address, LOL).

Please review- reviews make nice gifts for fic writers! ;o) hint, hint! Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! :oD I love you all and stay safe! :oD

Kitsune: Thank you so MUCH for your honest and constructive review! It really means a lot to me that you took the time to be analytic and were brave enough to tell me what wasn't working! The "shallowness" of this fic is something that I'm aware of by now, however with so many other fics in the works it's not something that I'm too worried about. Thank you, mellon-nïn, and please, enjoy the rest of the tale! :oD Merry Christmas!

Luntetuurewen: LOL! Aren't babies the sweetest? LOL. Thanks so much for your continued support, it really means a lot to me! I hope you enjoy this fic, and thanks again a million times for being understanding about the updating! :oD Merry Christmas, sweetie!