Thranduil looked over at Airëlus and smiled briefly, though his eyes spoke clearly of the anger and frustration that he felt. He had run things over in his mind numerous times, and still was undecided about what to do. He had always sworn that if ever one of his sons were to be harmed, then he would kill the one who had caused them pain. But what now? What was he supposed to do with Calaen?

"Ada, you must go to him," Airëlus said softly. "You cannot put it off for much longer."

"I know. But I do not wish to leave Legolas on his own. Not yet, anyway," Thranduil replied. Not long after work had started on his hand, the Prince had again fallen unconscious.

"You will not be leaving him alone. I will be with him," Airëlus reminded the King. "This may sound selfish, but I am so glad that it is you who must deal with Calaen, and not me. I would not know what to do."

Thranduil sighed as he reached down and lifted his youngest son into his arms. "I do not yet know what I will do when the time comes to see him. But that time will come later. First of all, we must move Legolas."

Airëlus threw his gaze down to the bed, before turning on his heel and following his father from the room. He felt sickened. His brother's white sheets were stained a mix of red and green – red from his blood, and green from the Athelas. That was something the Crown Prince had never thought he would see.

"Do you really not know what you will say to Calaen?" Airëlus asked, as he caught up with the King.

"I really do not know. I suppose we will just have to wait and see what happens when I get in there," Thranduil replied darkly, instinctively tightening his hold on Legolas and shooting a nasty glare towards Calaen's door as they passed it.

"Ada…" Airëlus began. But then he shook his head dismissively. "No."

Thranduil glanced sideways at his son. "If you have something to say, then go ahead."

"Well…" the Crown Prince started, as they climbed the marble stairs which led to the King's private rooms. "I do not…I mean…You should not get too angry until you have heard all that Calaen has to say. You have a short temper, Ada, and you…" He trailed off at the look on his father's face.

"What would you have me do?" Thranduil hissed, kicking open the door which led to his sleeping chambers. "Would you have me sit down with him, and discuss this whole thing quietly?"

Airëlus sighed deeply as he looked into his younger brother's pale face. "I am not saying that, and you know it. Just listen to Calaen's story before you beat him to the ground."

"As you wish," Thranduil said shortly, going over to the large bed and laying Legolas down on it.

"Do not be angry," Airëlus said softly. "I know how much your heart is hurting at the moment. I feel your pain, Ada, and it is only natural that you should wish to-

The Elven-king turned around and held up a hand. "Yes, alright. I will try and keep my temper in check. You will not leave Legolas?"

"Of course not," Airëlus replied.

"Very well." Thranduil exhaled deeply, and took a final look at his youngest son. "I suppose I must go now and see Calaen."

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Calaen paced nervously in his room, twisting his hands together as he walked. He was afraid. He had not been afraid like this for many years, and when he had been, he had always been loath to admit it to anyone. But now though, he would gladly shout it in front of the whole of Mirkwood, if there was a chance of escape from this situation.

A key suddenly clicked in the lock, and Calaen spun around as the door flew open and slammed against the wall. King Thranduil entered the room and kicked it shut behind him, cold eyes not once leaving his dark haired son.

"Legolas is unconscious," he remarked conversationally. "After you left, Airëlus and I washed the blood from his back, though to be honest with you, it does not look much better now. And then there are the three broken bones in his left hand. An explanation is needed, I think."

"His hand, I…" Calaen lowered his eyes to the floor. "I stamped on it."

"Oh, did you? Interesting. And, why did you do that?" Thranduil asked. His voice was calm, but inside he was screaming. "Before you speak, I have some advice for you. It is this: tell no lies, Calaen. I will see through them."

'You never have before,' the Prince thought.

"Go on," Thranduil said.

"You have my word that I will tell nothing but the truth," Calaen said. "I am sorry for everything that I have done, and I am more than sorry for the pain that Legolas went through at my hands. But I thought that I was doing the right thing."

Quicker than lightning, Thranduil had leapt forwards and grabbed the front of his son's tunic. "The right thing? My youngest child is suffering because of you! Legolas was afraid of me, Calaen. He was afraid of me, and flinched at my touch. You did that!"

"I am sorry, I really am. But you have said so many times that as Legolas is a child, he is still young enough to be punished for his wrong doings. I disliked his behavior, and felt it only right to punish him," Calaen said. "I was doing what I thought that you would."

"Do you really think that I would inflict such pain upon one of my own children?" Thranduil demanded, shaking the Prince. "How dare you even think to say something like that? What you have done is disgraceful. No Elf should ever treat another like that."

Calaen pulled himself away from his father's grip, and took a step back. "But I did not mean it to go as far as it did. You must believe you."

"Why should I? I saw what you did. That…that word," Thranduil spat. "Of all the things that I have ever seen or heard in my life, that is the lowest, the most disgusting. What possessed you to do something like that?"

Calaen opened his mouth to defend himself, but his eyes flashed maliciously, and he was suddenly overcome with a desire to reveal a few home truths. "If you are so desperate to know, then I will tell you. The word 'murderer' now marks your precious Greenleaf's body, because that is what he is. He killed my mother. And if Legolas was not so weak, then he would have been able to take the pain. Oh, and I suppose you wish to know why he is now afraid of you? Well, I borrowed your voice for a while. He is under the impression that you were the one hurting him."

Thranduil blinked in surprise – he had not expected that. His expression remained impassive for a moment, and just as he sensed Calaen starting to cool down, he swung a fist into his face. The Prince gasped and held a hand to his cheek, but the display of pain only seemed to anger his father. The Elven-king grabbed him, and threw him against the wall.

"Ada, stop!" Calaen breathed.

"There is no reason why I should!" Thranduil hissed.

"You said just a minute ago that you would never inflict pain upon one of your own children, yet you have no qualms about hurting me," Calaen snapped.

"You are Legolas' brother, yet you clearly had no qualms about hurting him!" Thranduil yelled, unable to stop himself from striking the Prince again. He laughed scornfully at the shock on Calaen's face. "You called Legolas weak, but from where I stand, it looks to me like you are the weak one."

"Ada-

Thranduil silenced his son by grabbing the front of his tunic, and pushing him against the wall. "Yes, I swore that I would never hurt one of my own sons. But this is something which I cannot forgive. Your mind was fixed on killing Legolas, wasn't it? He is safe now, but he is afraid of one who he should be able to trust with his life!"

Calaen looked into his father's eyes and swallowed nervously, wondering what was going to happen. If any Elf of Mirkwood hurt Royalty in such a way, then the penalty would most certainly be death. King Thranduil was more than severe where the safety of his children was concerned. But what would he do when the one who had hurt his youngest child, was his own son?

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