Chapter Three











Elrond looked around at the trees which formed a canopy above him. The royal palace of Mirkwood would come into view within several minutes. The royal family, like the forest, had seen many ennyn and much sorrow, but had always remained strong. So had his family. Now both families were facing the one thing that could break them. A deep sob shook the elf lord's shoulders as he thought of his younger son. He tried to stop the tears in his eyes from falling, but they simply spilled over anyway.

Just then, Thranduil's palace came into view. Guards paced the walls, looking eagerly and anxiously down the path. The guards saw e small elven army. "Man tolar?" the captain called. "Man le?"

Elrond looked up. "Im Elrond Earendilion," he called back, his voice shaking suspiciously. "Hir o Imladris. Telin ampeda na Aran Thranduil."


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The guard led Elrond to Thranduil's throne room. The elven king's grief-filled eyes met Elrond's equally stricken eyes. Thranduil took in the elf lord's expression with its grief and concern. "What is wrong?" he whispered.

Elrond opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it as he felt his emotions threatening to break loose. Instead, he handed the carefully rolled ransom letter to his friend.

Thranduil read the note and blenched. "U-le, Earendilion," he breathed. "U-ionn lin."

Elrond nodded, still not trusting himself to speak. He stepped beside his friend. They wept and embraced, each taking comfort in the other's presence.

"Your son found Legolas' trail, Elrond," Thranduil assured. "He will have arrived there some time ago. Adtolathar ammen, mellon nin."

Elrond shook his head. "Not unless we help them, Thranduil," he replied, finally speaking. "Estel cannot fight a whole army alone any more than Elrohir or Legolas can. He will have freed them by now, but then they will have been forced into hiding with no chance to return to us. We must go to them."

"No, Elrond," Thranduil argued. "What if Estel has not freed them yet? I am not willing to risk our sons yet! Please give the young man a little more time."

"Then I fear we may arrive too late," Elrond whispered, his eyes filling with tears.


Translations: Man tolar? = Who comes?
Man le? = Who are you?
Im Elrond Earendilion, Hir o Imladris. Telin ampeda na Aran Thranduil. = I am Elrond son of Earendil, Lord of Rivendell. I come to speak to King Thranduil.
U-le, Earendilion. U-ionn lin. = Not you, son of Earendil. Not your son.