The Enlightment Chapter 8: Escape from Lake Town, a lord of the rings fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, or any of the characters therein; I own only those which I have invented. This story is not written for profit, and I am not selling it on the black market (I don't think I'd get any money anyway...). I write it only for entertainment purposes.

Melui: Thank you! Yes, it did take a long time for me to do that last chapter; sorry, I had lots of school work demanding my attention. Without me, you would have a better chance at keeping your sanity ;)

Farflung: Thank you! There will be more angst to come, so I'm glad you like it. Oh, and I ust thank you profusely for your use of "muindor" as brother in your review. I looked it up, and I saw that "gwador" and "gwathel," which I had originally had Dinnulín and Faelon calling each other, meant, respectively, a sworn brother and a sworn sister – these terms implied that the elflings were not actually blood siblings. An honest mistake, I think. Right? [blushes] Anyway, thank you for the review!

Echo Despise: Thank you! I hope everything works out with you and your "brother," and I should be reviewing more of your poems soon (you have oh so many! O-O), I've just been working away on this chapter for a while and doing other distracting things. Thank you for the review, and I hope there was enough Legolas in this chapter for your liking. Though, if your review is anything to judge by, I don't think that will ever be possible... ;)

Bedazzled17: Thank you! But, you reviewed for the wrong chapter, lol. I'm happy that you're happy, and here's the next chapter for you ;)

Chapter Eight: Escape from Lake Town

Roccondil could feel the warm rays of the sun as it climbed higher into the sky, and, looking up, he judged it to be about midday. Scattered birdsong could be heard from amidst the houses, but it was never very loud and was often drowned out by the noisy speech of the town's inhabitants. A plump woman with a stern face and many wrinkles leaned out from her window and, in a booming, annoyingly pitched voice, she called for her son. Roccondil gaped in amazement at the behaviour and watched a little boy, caked with mud and grime, as he pulled himself from a throng of friends and went running to the small wooden house.

The noise in the town increased considerably as Roccondil made his way through what he suspected was the marketplace. He continually heard whispers of murderers and often had to dodge small groups of townsfolk who pushed past on their way to the bridge. He kept to the shadows and followed bands of children, attempting to blend in; there was an odd feeling in the air, and he did not think it wise for him to be seen quite yet.

He followed the road for a time, and soon the carts of goods decreased in number as the road widened into a large, open area. A great number of wagons filled the square, and many men could be seen grunting and sweating in the sun as they loaded and unloaded them with goods. Roccondil stopped and moved to stand by an old cart heavily draped with rich, brightly coloured cloths. As he stood in its shade, he surveyed the people in the square, looking for a group that seemed approachable.

By the eastern wall was a dilapidated wagon with a patched grey tarp and an old, sickly horse. An elderly man walked stiffly around to wagon's back and slowly loaded it with a few small sacks and a single bundle of greyish matter. As he returned to the front, he bent double and Roccondil grimaced when the man's hacking cough reached his ears. Not trusting in the reliability of the man and his horse, the elf moved on in search of healthier-looking transportation.

His eyes passed a ragged man walking from wagon to wagon, and Roccondil watched as he bumped into a well-dressed man and woman. The elf stared, wide-eyed, as the man's hand slipped cleverly into the deep pocket and removed a small brown bag. The thief quickly muttered his apologies and hurried on.

Roccondil stepped back and searched the pockets of his tunic to check for Lothwen's gifts as well as his own few treasures. He had known of the tendency of other races to steal, but he had not seen it before; an elf would never do such a thing. Now wary of entering the square, he looked about him for suspicious characters. A small ways behind him were three bedraggled young men and Roccondil did not trust their shifty eyes; deciding that it would be safer in the crowd and to keep moving, he stepped cautiously into the square and buried his hands in his pockets.

He made his way from wagon to wagon, until at last he found one that looked promising. It was large and made of a sturdy wood, and its tarp was a crisp white and seemingly new. The two brown horses at its front were proud and healthy, and their eyes shone brightly as they watched their owners move about, loading the wagon with goods.

"Excuse me," Roccondil said as he approached one of the men. He was tall with thick strong arms and a beard that covered most of his face; as he turned to the elf, he wiped his brow with weathered grey cloth.

"Yes?" The man's voice was deep and gravely.

"My friends and I need help getting home," Roccondil grinned uncomfortably as the man searched for said friends, and, finding no one else with the child, looked at him strangely. "Well they're not here at this moment...I would have to go get them...but I hoped you could take us in your wagon." The elf smiled winningly.

The man looked him over and his eyes lingered on Roccondil's fair face and pointed ears. "No," he said and walked away.

"But –"

"He said no," another man yelled. "Get lost!"

Roccondil fumed as he walked away, determined not to get disheartened.

Later...

After four more failed attempts, which all ended with him getting told off for his efforts, Roccondil felt as if he would never find someone to give him and his friends passage home. He made his way slowly through the square, his eyes skimming the crowd for promising opportunities. Occasionally, one of the men he had previously asked for aide would shoot him a scowl or turn quickly to avoid his gaze, and one woman in particular could not seem to keep her eyes from him. However, this did not bother him and he refused to be deterred from his task; if he failed his friends, not only would they never let him forget about it, but his pride would be greatly wounded.

At the far south end of the square were a number of men gathered about two large wagons. The wagons themselves seemed to be well cared for, with white tarps and healthy lead horses whose coats shone in the sun. Cautiously, Roccondil made his way over.

When he arrived, a tall, thin man with beady eyes and a long face looked up and eyed him suspiciously. The elf knew immediately that he was not to be trusted, but there was no other choice; he could not risk spending more time wandering about the square for fear of his friends being discovered, and no one else in the entire village seemed willing to aid a helpless (or so he lead them to believe) child in his passage home.

"I was wondering, my lord," Roccondil bowed, feeling it best to plunge straight into his request, using, of course, a small hint of flattery, "if you could give my friends and I a ride to our home in one of your fine wagons."

The man looked him over. After taking in the rich fabric of Roccondil's clothes and his clean, healthy face and hair, he must have deemed the child a worthwhile customer as he continued soon after. "How many friends do you have?"

"Four," the elf smiled. "They're not here at the moment but can be – they are just down the road waiting for me."

"Well, it's going to cost you, friend," the man said as he leaned back against the wagon, crossing his arms.

"What will it cost?" Roccondil asked and dug into his pockets. "I have some dried fruit, a piece of rabbit fur, three feathers, a smooth stone – it's my favourite actually, it can skip across the water at least eight times –, some soil, a button..."

The man cocked an eyebrow and watched as the child pulled out countless articles from his pockets. Just as he was beginning to wonder just how much one could stuff into one's pockets, he grew impatient and barked "Gold, boy. Do you have any gold?"

Roccondil's head snapped up in surprise, and the words died on his tongue, "Er..."

"How much do you have?" The man's eyes gleamed as he looked down his nose at the child.

"Well, I don't have any, but –"

"No gold, no wagon," he said and walked away. "I don't give charity."

Roccondil stared in shock. Then, quickly his shock turned to anger and he jammed his belongings back into his pockets and stormed off, grumbling about greedy men and their sadistic habits. That had been his last chance, he knew, for now most of the people he passed stared at or avoided him.

On impulse, he looked back at the wagon where he had been so rudely turned away and watched as the men laughed raucously and continued hauling their bundles of goods. He knew that Legolas would not have any gold, but knowing his father, the king, and his great fondness for the stuff, Roccondil thought that perhaps there could be a way to persuade these men to give them passage home. And so he turned back.

However, as the elf drew nearer to the tall, rude man, he decided that it would be best to ask another for the favour; after all, if this man had been inclined to turn away a child once, then chances were he would do it again, seeing as he already knew of said child's lack of funds. With luck, at least one man would not know that Roccondil had already established his poverty and give him passage, and then, with persuasion and the promise of unfathomable riches, hopefully the others would soon see the light and follow in this man's example. Keeping with this plan of attack, Roccondil sneaked back to the wagon, carefully avoiding the sight of the previous, less than hospitable man.

The group seemed almost ready to depart when he arrived at the wagon, and the elf feared that if he was not swift in the execution of his plan, he and his friends would be forced to wait for the king's search party. And knowing Legolas' penchant for causing misdeeds, and thus his ever- increasing lengths of confinement to his quarters, Roccondil worried that such help would not be swift in coming; if Roccondil was king, and Legolas his son, he would not be terribly anxious if the child missed one dinner, as it could be assumed that Legolas, for once, was following the rules of his punishment and remaining in his chambers or, at the very least, sulking.

And so, knowing time was of the essence, Roccondil made to approach the first man he saw; a tall, thickset man with a large blonde head that did not seem to house much intelligence. Perfect. However, just as he was about to call out, another man appeared, walking stiffly but quickly towards the other. Roccondil recognised him as the man from before, and immediately retreated back into the crowd. From there, he listened.

"Hardaran," the rude man called, "what are you doing?"

"Taking a break," Hardaran answered, wiping his forehead.

"From what?" The man said, looking around. "You weren't doing anything."

"I was!" He cried indignantly "I loaded up half the stuff – twice as much as anybody."

"Well, you better keep it moving," the man stepped closer. "Did you hear about the murder, or were you too busy 'loading the wagon'?"

"No, I heard."

"It seems now that elves might have done it. Apparently the arrow had carvings on it, such that could only be done by those forest folk."

"So..." Hardaran said, confused.

The other man seemed to growl in annoyance as he washed his hand over his face, then continued, "Are you blind, or just an idiot? Didn't you see that boy who was here before?" Roccondil blanched and stepped back, hiding himself further in the crowd. When Hardaran shook his head, the man went on. "Well, he was an elf, and probably the murderer too."

"But he couldn't be if he was only a boy, Famdaran," Hardaran said as though this were obvious.

"That doesn't matter!" Famdaran growled. "You don't see elves in Lake Town everyday, and it can't be coincidence that an elf boy should appear the same time a man is murdered by one."

"But Dermta always says elves are nice folk, if you treat them right," Hardaran said.

"Well your wife's in love with anything with a pretty face and you know it," Famdaran said. "Listen, I have a bad feeling about this and I don't want to get mixed up in this town's problems with the elves – I've got enough to worry about back home." Famdaran watched as one of his men dropped a wooden box and scrambled to retrieve the hens that escaped. He ran a hand through his black hair, "Keep loading the wagon. There won't be a break – I want to get out of here."

"So where are we going now?"

"Where do you –"

But Roccondil did not hear the rest for he was sent flying onto his hip as a rather large woman tripped into him. Quickly he scrambled up and helped the woman gather her many purchases. "Forgive me, my lady," he said as he handed her a number of bright cloths and strange objects.

"Well you should be," she huffed and snatched her things from Roccondil.

However, he was not truly listening to her; rather, he was concentrating on the snippets of conversation that he could hear from the men.

"—that forest as soon as possible," he heard Famdaran say and his eyes widened.

"You mean Mirkwood?" Hardaran said, and Roccondil could hear the awe in his voice.

"Of course I do, you fool," Famdaran said crossly. "If you weren't my brother, I would never have let you come. You're as bad as a child."

"Sorry," the man said sheepishly, "I was just asking..."

"Just hurry up and finish loading the wagon. We'll leave as soon as it's finished," and with that, Famdaran turned and stormed off, yelling at a man who was now shoving the chickens back into the crate.

Roccondil smiled and ran back through the square, headed towards his friends.

Legolas groaned lightly as he shifted Dinnulín's weight to his other leg and cringed; his left leg was now completely numb, and he dreaded the moment when the blood would flow into it once more and cause the all- familiar, annoying pinpricks of discomfort. His gaze fell once more to the entrance of the alley, and he was glad that he was concealed in the dark shade. The midday sun was shining brightly upon the townsfolk, and often a man could be seen wiping sweat from his brow, or a woman would pass by, fanning herself in discomfort.

Dinnulín was sleeping now, and gently Legolas pushed her tussled hair from her face. The child stirred lightly, but did not wake.

"He's taking a long time," Faelon said quietly from his place beside Legolas.

"He must have gotten lost," Lothwen sighed and shifted her position.

"Do you think someone should go looking for him?" Faelon said, twisting the sleeves of his tunic with his fingers.

Legolas shook his head, "We don't want to get separated."

And once again the group fell silent. Normally, Roccondil would have begun speaking of whatever came to mind in an effort to lighten the mood, and Lothwen would have told him, without true malice, to keep quiet, just to start an argument. But he was not here. Normally, Legolas would have gotten up to explore the trees or to entertain himself by singing or playing a game of sorts, and then Faelon would join him, or they would all devise a great plan of adventure and head off to enjoy the day. But nothing was as it normally was; they were not in Mirkwood, they were not happy and carefree, and their silence was not one of comfortable companionship but of anxiety, sadness, and pain. As he listened to the noises of the town, Legolas felt detached and strangely out of place, as though he were a tree uprooted and placed in the middle of a dusty road.

He stole a glance at each of his friends. Lothwen was staring fixedly at the entrance to the alley, but her face showed no emotion; only her eyes belied the anxiety she felt. Faelon, however, took no pains to hide his own emotions, and he sat, fidgeting with the material of his tunic, as his eyes worriedly scanned their surroundings. Often they would rest on Dinnulín, and Legolas knew Faelon yearned to hold the child, but dared not disturb her.

In a way, he wished his friends would speak to him. He felt as though he had done something terrible and was now being shunned for it, or that he was fragile and would shatter into thousands of pieces at the slightest upset. But at the same time he did not wish to speak. He knew he had done something terrible and he did feel fragile. In truth, he did not know which was worse, the silence or the possibility of conversation.

He sighed quietly and turned his eyes to the alley's entrance. Time seemed to crawl by as the people passed, and Legolas wondered how long it had been since Roccondil left; he was beginning to think that the elf had indeed gotten lost – it would not be the first time, after all.

However, in the next moment the young prince was proven wrong, as Roccondil's head suddenly appeared around the corner. The elf smiled brightly and sighed in relief, then ran quickly to his friends.

"I found a wagon that will take us home," he said hurriedly. "But we have to hurry – it's departing soon...Well, come on!" He added when no one moved.

Quickly the elves recovered from their shock – Roccondil had finally done something right – and rose from the ground. Legolas woke Dinnulín, and she gazed blurrily at him, confused.

"We're going home," he said hurriedly. "Can you run?"

She nodded, but when he put her down and they began to leave the alley, Legolas felt his heart clench when the child limped and gasped in pain. Quickly, both he and Faelon moved to carry her.

Faelon picked Dinnulín up from the ground and handed her to the prince, "You're stronger than I."

Legolas nodded, and with Dinnulín's help he moved the girl onto his back and held her legs tightly to him. When she was settled securely, the elves ran towards the village square.

But this proved more difficult than Legolas had originally expected; the crowd seemed thicker than before, and Legolas struggled to find openings between the people. Repeatedly he was bumped and pushed, and more than once his passing was followed by a creative string of curses. But just as Legolas began to think he could stand it no longer, they emerged at last into the town square.

He looked at the mass of people and wagons and wondered briefly which one would take them home, before Roccondil turned and made his way towards end of the square. There Legolas saw two wagons and a group of reliable-looking men. Perhaps, he thought, Roccondil had actually done something right – a notion that Legolas could grow rather accustomed to.

The group was mere feet before their key to freedom when Roccondil suddenly turned, changing his course, and headed toward a large group of people near the back of the wagon. Legolas looked back at the men gathered around the lead horses, and wondered why Roccondil had not led them there. Lothwen, apparently, had been wondering the same thing as moments later her voice, lowered to a whisper, drifted over the noise of the people, and Legolas turned to face his friends.

"What are you doing, Roccondil?" She said. "Shouldn't we be asking the men for permission to use their wagon?"

"Well," Roccondil blushed and lowered his eyes, "I do not think that would be a very wise decision..."

"And why is that?"

"I already asked them if we could accompany them to Mirkwood," Roccondil looked up sheepishly, "and they said no."

"So what are we doing here then?!" Lothwen said.

"We cannot just sneak on," Faelon looked anxious. "That would be stealing."

"He's right, Roccondil," Legolas said quietly.

"It's not stealing!" Roccondil said, indignant. "We would have to be taking something from them, and since they are already going to Mirkwood, we are not putting them out of their way, and because the wagon is already loaded, we won't be taking up any space. And so we are not taking anything from them – we are not stealing. They won't even know we are here."

"We are lying then," Lothwen said, exasperated. "Either way, this is wrong!"

"We are not doing that either," Roccondil said, rolling his eyes. "We would have to be saying something to them, something along the lines of "We will not hide in the back of your wagon so that you will give us a free passage to Mirkwood." If we had said that, then, yes, we would be lying. But to my knowledge, not one of us has said anything remotely like that to any of these men, and therefore we are telling no lies." He held out his chest haughtily, crossing his arms. "It is all very logical."

"You only think it's logical because you're stupid," Lothwen seethed.

"I am not!"

"Well then, your definitions of lying and stealing are rather convenient..."

Roccondil sighed, struggling to reign in his frustration. "Listen. We don't have any other choice; I asked nearly everyone in this square for help, and none of them said yes. They all turned me away as though I were something one cleaned from a horse's stall, and went about their business." Roccondil pointed to a tall, dark-haired man near the front of the wagon. "Only this man seemed to even consider letting us on his wagon, and it was only because of his greed that he said no in the end." He raised his nose into the air, and continued with annoyance, "If you lot have any other ideas, I would be glad to hear them."

"I don't" Faelon said. "Do you, Legolas?"

"No," he sighed. "I do not agree with this, but I suppose I can see Roccondil's point. I think we should go."

Lothwen sighed resignedly, "I'll go too. I suppose there isn't any other way..."

"We had better hurry then!" Roccondil said nervously, and the others followed his gaze to where the wagons were slowly moving away.

The elves ran after the wagon and Roccondil opened the tarp and jumped into the back. He took hold of the side of the opening and leaned out, stretching his arm to take Lothwen's hand; when he had pulled her in, he did the same for Faelon, and the three elves waited while Legolas shifted Dinnulín so that he was holding her before him. Legolas held her out to them and quickly they took her by the waist and arms and pulled her in, where she clutched, shaken, to her brother. Legolas soon followed and moments later the elves were sitting securely in the safety of the wagon.

Legolas pulled the tarp closed, and the interior dimmed slightly, but shafts of sun still shone through cracks in the wood, illuminating the cargo and straw that surrounded them. There were a number of wooden crates, some of which clucked lightly and made strange rustling noises, and atop them were clay pots covered in tanned deerskins, tied securely together with long, worn stings of rope. It was hot inside the compartment, for none of the pleasant outdoor breeze seemed able to penetrate the thick slabs of wood, and the straw beneath them scratched and poked the elves as they were bumped and jostled in time with every turn of the wagon's large wooden wheels.

As the wagons trundled from the village and over the wooden bridge, the elves sat in silence, watching the particles of dust as they floated lazily in the golden streams of light.

Time passed slowly in the heat of the wagon, and soon Legolas found it difficult to keep himself from the land of elvish dreams. Already Faelon and Dinnulín were asleep, and the two sat huddled together at the far end of the compartment. Even Lothwen's eyes were beginning to take on a far-off look, while Roccondil had been lost shortly after they had left Lake Town. Legolas did not know how much longer it would be until they arrived at his father's gates, but he reasoned that it would not be for some time, and so he allowed his mind to clear as he waited to be taken away by his dreams.

He did not have to wait long.

..............................................................

He sat in the middle of his large bed and gazed morosely out the high window. The stars were bright in the sky, and the full moon shone vividly, filling his room with a luminous, almost eerie blue light. Against his chest he hugged a stuffed toy, and occasionally his tiny white hand would stroke the soft fur of the bedraggled fawn. The forest was quiet now, save for the occasional gentle song that lilted on the breeze, sung by elves who had yet to retire for the night.

It had not been a good day, as had originally been planned. His brother, Ethirion, was celebrating his seventieth begetting day, and all of Mirkwood had decided to give him a party to commemorate the occasion. There had been a great many decorations, all beautiful and elegant, and music, dance, wine, and general merrymaking had abounded. Even his Ada had taken great joy in the festivities. Still the young prince could see him dancing happily with his Nana, a fair maiden with hair like Elanor, and he remembered how beautiful the two had looked as they moved about the large grassy clearing, their golden hair and rich clothes illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of the torchlight.

But in spite of everything young Legolas had been distressed. Throughout the party he had not eaten much, though many of his favourite foods had been served; he had passed up any and all meats, and ate only the berries, bread, and sweets. After the main feast, his mother had grown concerned and asked the child why he had not eaten any of the venison, as he had always enjoyed it before. Without much coaxing, the distressed elfling had relayed his tale to the caring ear of his dear Nana.

Early that morning, Legolas and Gwinfalas, the maid of the royal family and close friend of Ethirion, had gone out into the forest in search of flowers, berries, and wood for the fires. It had been a bright day, with the summer sun shining warmly upon the pair as birds, butterflies, and other such peaceful creatures lazed about, filling the forest with song and the peaceful sounds of waking. Happily Legolas had told Gwinfalas of his many adventures with his friends, the stories his Nana would read or sing to him before bed, and of anything he felt the need to impart to the fair elf. Gwinfalas had been a perfect listener; she laughed, applauded, and gasped at all the right moments, and always encouraged him to continue his tales. And because Legolas had known her from the day he was born, he saw her as a sister and was not shy, as was his wont around strangers, and so, for the young prince continuing was something he was more than happy to do.

However, as the morning wore on and the two ventured further into the forest, Legolas saw an increasing number of elves pass by, garbed in muted greens and browns and he watched them in wonder. They had bows in their hands and quivers upon their backs, and so the prince knew they were all warriors; something he too desired to be when his was a strong, tall elf like his Adar. Curious, Legolas had asked his guardian what the elves were doing. She told him simply that they were hunting and that, because twelve- year-olds were much too young to engage in such things, his aid was better suited to the task at hand. But Legolas was an inquisitive elf, and his curiosity had been piqued; his eldest brother, Talagant, his Adar, and even Ethirion and Mírolind would sometimes go out to hunt in the forest and Legolas had always wondered exactly what this activity was. His Naneth had never allowed his siblings or Adar to tell him tales of their hunts. She would always tell them how he was too soft-hearted to understand such necessities, and that she would not risk him rejecting his dinner.

But Legolas was also an intelligent elf, and in a matter of moments his mind was plotting a way for him to get what he desired. He would see these elves in their hunt. Repeatedly Legolas would point to berries and twigs further and further away in an effort to follow in the path of the warriors and Gwinfalas, oblivious to the young prince's plan, had unknowingly played the perfect accomplice. And so, Legolas continued as such until at last he felt they had ventured far enough into the forest to be close on the warriors' heels.

Here Legolas stopped and looked about him. He frowned when he could find no trace of the proud elves with their magnificent bows and quivers, and he decided that perhaps it would be best to continue in his plan. He ran to Gwinfalas and took her hand in his, "Come, Gwinfalas," he smiled, making sure to add a bubbly giggle, which always seemed to make the adults smile and look upon him with warmth and love, "there's berries over there!" And he pointed to a spot further up the path and pulled on the maid's arm.

"No, Legolas," Gwinfalas said and pulled him back to her. "That is too far." The child looked crestfallen and the maiden took pity on him. Gathering him into her arms, she hugged him and looked into his bright blue eyes, shining with innocence and disappointment, and her heart melted. "You do not want to be out here all day, do you? Surely we would miss the party, and poor Ethirion would have no fires to see by and no berries to eat. He would be terribly disappointed, I'm sure."

Legolas was torn. He wanted desperately to see the warriors and watch the hunt, but he did not want to disappoint his brother. If he failed in his mission, he would be letting down all of Mirkwood, and the party would not be nearly as fun...Legolas thought about his dilemma for but a moment more and decided it would be best to turn back and look for berries and wood closer to his home.

He looked up at Gwinfalas, ready to tell her his decision, and as he watched she smiled resignedly and said, "But I suppose we could go a little further..."

"I don't want to miss party" he said and smiled, releasing himself from her embrace.

"All right," she said, relieved, "we will head home then."

But just as the two elves turned to make their way back, the sound of pounding footfalls filled the forest and they stopped and spun around. Suddenly a large deer came crashing out from the trees and bushes, its legs pumping frantically as its eyes shone with fear. Gwinfalas quickly grabbed Legolas and hauled him up from the ground. He clung to her as she ran from the animal's path. Seconds later its powerful hooves trampled the earth where they had been and they watched, shocked, as it moved to pass them.

Its large antlers and powerful shoulders had just rushed by when an arrow emerged at lightening speed from the bushes the animal had leaped from. Legolas' eyes widened as it whooshed by and then, with a soft thump, embedded itself in the back of the animal's head. With a cry of alarm, the animal threw forward and rolled to the ground. Legolas cried out and wrenched himself form Gwinfalas' grip. He ran to the animal and frantically he looked into its eyes. They were glazed and dull, but the panic and fear still lingered in their depths. The deer was dead. A soft moan escaped Legolas' lips, and moments later a voice called out behind him.

"Caun nín," the voice was elvish and coloured with worry. Slowly, Legolas turned around and before him stood Mirthael, a young elf and Ethirion's best friend. "I-I did not know..." he trailed off as five warriors emerged from behind him.

"I will deal with this later," The leader of the party said as he stepped forward. Then he turned and nodded to the group and four elves went to the fallen animal. Before they lifted the animal from the earth, they thanked it for its sacrifice and then turned to Legolas. They saw his eyes, alight with shock, fear, and pain, and they were saddened. Quietly they apologised to the young prince and slowly took the animal away.

The leader, closely followed by Mirthael, walked over to Gwinfalas and in hushed voices the three elves spoke. Eventually they left and Gwinfalas moved to kneel down by Legolas. She did not say anything as she knelt there, looking into the child's pained eyes. Her own deep orbs were clouded by sorrow and gently she took the boy in her arms. For long moments they embraced silently by the side of the path, and Legolas did not fight as tears spilled from his eyes...

Presently, Legolas found himself waiting in his bed for his Naneth. After she had heard of the events of the day, Gaelrian had asked him to wait up for her so that they could talk together. Legolas, of course, had agreed as he treasured his moments alone with his dear Naneth. Silently he watched the stars, letting his mind wander, and he fought the urge to sleep.

He had just begun to wonder when his Naneth would come to him when at last the door pushed softly open. Legolas turned, and he smiled at the sight of his mother framed in the doorway, illuminating the air around her with her ethereal glow. She smiled too and after gently closing the door behind her, she crossed the room to Legolas' bed. She sat down and caressed his check. Legolas leaned into the touch and looked deeply into his mother's warm blue eyes that were so much like his own.

"Are you weary, Laer nín?" She asked softly as she gathered him into her arms. Legolas shook his head and Gaelrian laughed, for she could see the clouds of weariness in his eyes. "You did not have a good day, did you?"

"No, Nana," he whispered and snuggled closer.

"I know," she stroked his head soothingly. "You saw a hunt today...Gwinfalas told me you were very upset." The child nodded. "But you have always known where the deer meat came from..."

Legolas looked up and met his mother's eyes. They were soft and warm and he felt comforted by their depths, as though Elbereth herself had come to him and held him in her arms. His mother smiled tenderly and placed his head upon her breast so that he could hear the steady beating of her heart.

"But you did not understand how it came to be the meat," Gaelrian said quietly as she watched his golden head. "Legolas...sometimes an animal must die so that others may live. That is a reality you must learn. To survive, animals have to hunt and be hunted, and if it were not so then there could be no life. If we did not eat the deer, we would have little meat, and the deer would grow so high in numbers that there would not be enough food for them. They would starve, and that is truly a crueller fate than a painless death."

"But he was scared, Nana," Legolas said and he gripped his mother closer, "they hurt him."

"I know he was scared, but they did not hurt him," Gaelrian sighed and held him closer, letting her chin rest atop his golden head. "An elf would never let an innocent creature suffer."

"Nana?" Legolas' quiet voice was uncertain.

"Yes, Legolas?"

"Do deer go to Mandos Halls when they die?"

"No," She said. "They go somewhere better. Somewhere where all there is are green fields and forests, and sparkling rivers that shine blue and gold in the sun. There is no one to hunt them, and they live always in peace. The land is never buried in snow, and there is always more than enough food. In this place, the animals are forever happy and do not know any sadness or pain."

"I want to see that place," Legolas said.

"Well, do not be too eager" she laughed, and taking his chin in her hand she raised his face to plant a kiss on his forehead, "I don't know what I would do without my little elfling."

Legolas smiled, and asked, "Do men go there too when they die?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"Lothwen told me about a war," he said. "She said her ada told her stories about when elves and men fought orcs and bad men and killed them."

"Well I do not think that in death men would go to the same place as animals," Gaelrian said thoughtfully. "And evil men especially would not." Her brow furrowed, "They would go nowhere pleasant and peaceful."

"How do you know if you're evil, Nana?" Legolas said, and his eyes clouded with worry. "What if I'm evil? Today, I tried to trick Gwinfalas...is that evil? I don't want to die and go someplace scary..." He trailed off with a small shudder.

Gaelrian laughed lightly and hugged the child, "You are not evil, you could never be evil – you are my precious elfling...Even if you are a bit mischievous sometimes." She smiled as she poked Legolas gently on the nose. The child laughed, but the curiosity did not leave his eyes, and so she continued. "Someone is evil when they are always doing things that are wrong, like being cruel and mean to others, stealing, or especially killing. If someone does those things and enjoys them, then they are evil."

"But if it's wrong to kill, then why were we killing the men?"

"Because sometimes there is no other choice," Gaelrian said. "There are some beings that are so evil they will never stop hurting and killing others, and the only way to keep them from doing so, is to take their lives. That is the difference between killing to protect others and senseless murder – if you kill only those who are evil or dangerous, and do so to protect yourself and others, then what you have done is not wrong and you are not evil for it. Usually you are a hero." She looked down at her child and smiled warmly, "Do you understand now, Laer nín?"

Legolas nodded slowly, but then his face paled and his eyes grew wide, "Nana," he cried, panicked, "I am evil!"

"Why do you say that?" Gaelrian said, surprised at the child's sudden anguish.

"Yesterday, a bug bit me – and I smacked it! I'm a murderer!" The elfling pushed back from his mother and stared at her, his eyes wide in shock. His small hands gripped tightly to her dress.

Gaelrian could stand it no longer. She had tried to maintain her composure throughout her talk with Legolas, knowing that he needed her to answer his questions and to explain death seriously, calmly, and lovingly, but the way he was sitting there...so pure and helpless, in need of his mother...He was utterly adorable. His blue eyes sparkled with innocence, and his golden hair was tinted with pale blue in the moonlight. His skin glowed softly with the light of elves and he seemed to her a vision of perfection, and Gaelrian felt a burst of pride with the thought that she and her husband had brought him into the world. Something inside of her snapped and her melodic voice filled the room as she laughed helplessly; baffled, Legolas stared at her, all the panic gone from his eyes. Moments later the child found himself pushed playfully to the bed as Gaelrian attacked him with kisses, her fingers working frantically as she tickled his torso and beneath his arms.

Down the halls their laugher carried, rising and falling with the gentle breezes and mingling with the musical voices of the elves as they sang to the stars. Outside, the birds and squirrels who took shelter in the tall trees outside the prince's window awoke from their peaceful slumber and their hearts were lifted by the lilting sound.

And down the long open hallway, sitting at the small desk in his chambers, Thranduil looked up from his work and all his weariness was taken from him as he relished in the laughter of his beloved wife and son, and he was at peace.

.........................................................

Legolas felt a great sense of calm and rest as he slowly awoke from his elvish dreams, and yet he was surprised to feel at peace with the world, something that had been lost to him for years now. In the few restful moments between sleep and waking, he was content.

But he did not have long to relish in these long-lost feelings as he was jolted sideways by a particularly fierce jerk that sent him splaying into the golden straw of the wagon. Startled, he looked about him, and the memories of the past events flooded his mind. Had they been caught? Quickly his head snapped to the end of the wagon where the white tarp rippled in the breeze, but the wooden door remained closed. However, the horses were slowing down, he knew, and it would not be long before the men did in fact discover them. Surely they would not treat stowaways with deep kindness, and so Legolas quickly roused his friends.

"Are we there yet?" Roccondil murmured as he sat up.

"Not yet," Legolas said quietly in case there were men nearby enough to hear. "But the horses are slowing; we cannot be far."

"Right, then, are you going to check?" Roccondil nudged Faelon.

"I'm not going to check!" The elf paled slightly and looked to Lothwen, who had sat up and was now stretching her arms.

"I'll check," Legolas said and crawled slowly to the back of the wagon. Lifting up the tarp, he peered over the low wooden door, careful to keep as much of his head hidden as possible.

What he saw nearly made his heart stop. Before him stretched an endless expanse of green fields, broken only by a single river that flowed crookedly into the distance. It was nearly dark now, and Legolas could hear the bleating of sheep and the calls of men as the wagon trundled on. A lonely cow mooed, and the sound echoed in the prince's ears as he paled.

"Where are we?" He breathed.

"Laer nín" – "My Song," Gaelrian's epithet for Legolas.

"Caun nín" – "My Prince"

"Elanor" – For those of you who don't know, this is not someone's name! (Well, it could be but here it isn't). It's a golden flower that grew in Lothlórien in the winter. It grew on Cerin Amroth along with Niphredil (a white flower), which is possibly one of the most beautiful names for a flower that you'll ever find ;)

About the title, is anyone else reminded of Dory in Finding Nemo and the line when she says, "Es-kah-pay...funny, it looks just like escape..." or am I just weird...

Anyway, I have yet another conflict of sources. I was watching ROTK on Sunday night (I got the movie a whole two days early :) ) when Aragorn turned to Legolas at the end and said "Hannon le" (i.e. "Thank you"), but on the internet it says that thank you is "le hannon." Needless to say, I am confused. I try to be accurate, but apparently that is next to impossible, and I'm not about to go through my chapters every time a new way of saying something comes about ;). Oh, well. It doesn't really matter very much, but I am a perfectionist and so it bothers me...

Sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to get the dream done, and well, the characters talked more than I expected them to ;) Also, I wanted to be more descriptive in my writing so that you got more of a sense of the environment and what was going on. The end result? The single longest chapter that I have written thus far for The Enlightenment. My beta reader nearly strangled me when she saw it...

Well, I'll try to make the next one shorter. Thranduil and co. come back as well. Oh, and about the human names, I'm sorry if they sound strange and don't have any meaning, but...I just made them up. Off the top of my head. I don't know of a way to make Tolkien human names so I just thought for a bit, took inspiration from objects in my office, and then just stuck prefixes and suffixes together until they sounded right. Not very professional, but it got the job done ;)

Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it. Please review!

P.S., I've simply given up on tabs...FF.net gave me way too much trouble with them. Does anyone know how to get more than one space between paragraphs without having to put a period on every line? It's getting annoying and makes the page look ugly and cluttered.