~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Leherim combed through the dark hair, carefully clipping bits of it to help even things out. After a while she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. "That's better," she decided, leading Mirimir over to the mirror to see what she had done.

Mirimir reached up and touched the silky cap of hair, tilting her head curiously, watching it slide across her face, the black slashes a rather startling contrast with her almost too fair skin. She blinked and absently tucked her hair behind her ears, scanning the room quickly before she returned to the bed, drawing her knees to her chest, gazing about the room.

Leherim sighed softly, and cast about for anything to say or do when a wave of something strong and with an overtone of grief came to her from Legolas, just as the door opened. Mirimir was off the bed and in the corner beneath the table in a flash, but Legolas seemed unaware of it this time as he strode quickly across the room to stop in front of her. "What's wrong?" she asked softly, reaching up to touch his cheek.

He sighed and rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "Haragen's troops were attacked. Garenti…"

"Oh no," she whispered, feeling his grief increase. She reached up and hugged him, feeling his arms come around her as he accepted whatever comfort he could gather from the contact. "Has Hallanya been told?"

"I couldn't find her. He never made it back to the mountain." Legolas closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, kissing her forehead before drawing back a bit, though he still held her hands. "I should look again. She should find out in a better way than the grapevine."

"I'll go," she whispered, knowing how much Legolas was dreading this. He could lead the troops and command respect with but a glance, but he wasn't as adept in dealing with the obvious emotions of distraught females. She glanced back at the cowering Mirimir and sighed softly. "Perhaps you should come along for a while. Was anyone else injured?"

"A few, but all should recover within a few weeks. A few bruised ribs, a broken leg, some head wounds."

"Orcs?"

He shook his head briefly. "Spiders."

"Spiders?" she frowned, looking down. "But I thought they wouldn't attack us when we are in numbers."

"They usually will not. They fear the magic we have within us, but something drove these to do so anyway." His lips twisted in slight humor. "Most of the wounds came from falling out of trees in their haste to escape." His head twisted to see Mirimir when she let out a soft sound. She glanced up, saw he was watching her, and tried to curl herself into a still tighter ball, her arms wrapped protectively over her chest. Does she speak anything?

I have not heard her do so. She does seem to understand, though.

Which could be wishful thinking on your part.

Yes, she agreed with a soft sigh.

Legolas looked over at Mirimir, and crouched down beside Leherim, thankful for the light touch of her fingers on his shoulder. "My name is Legolas," he murmured. "Leherim is my baby sister."

"Oh, I like that!" Leherim shoved him lightly, causing him nearly to tip over. "Baby sister indeed! A mere few years younger than you, if you recall."

Legolas smiled fondly at her, reached out and knocked her over, catching her before she could crash to the floor. He set her down lightly, smirking. "My baby sister, unable to stay on her feet."

A soft knock came from the door, and a guard timidly stuck his head into the room. "Your highness?" he asked softly.

Legolas and Leherim glanced at each other, each lifting a brow at the guard.

He flushed to the tips of his ears and cleared his throat. "The King wishes to speak with the Prince," he clarified, before ducking back into the hall.

"That's me then," Legolas murmured, standing, hauling Leherim up with him.

"Are you certain?" Leherim asked drolly.

Legolas smiled faintly and shook his head, kissing her forehead. "I'd best go."

"Yes. I shall find Hallanya. I'll see you later, Mirimir," she called, preceding Legolas out of the room—which made the trembling elf in the corner shake harder.

Legolas sighed softly. Wondering briefly if he should even bother to promise her he wouldn't hurt her, he instead bowed his head slightly and then left the room, absently seeing a book lying on the dresser. Did you mean to leave a book?

Oh… Oh well. Leave it.

Legolas absently nodded and continued down the hall to the small study Thranduil preferred to conference in when he could. Sure enough, the king was there, and waiting for his son. "Yes, Father?" he asked, closing the door behind him without waiting to be told.

"You have heard, of course."

"Of course," he agreed, sitting where bid by a small motion of his father's hand.

"Have you anything to report?"

"Nothing you do not already know. Such activity is rare. Spiders must be on the edge of starvation most of the time to even consider any elves not alone as prey." He sighed and shook his head, spreading his hands in a gesture of confusion. "I have no idea what would have caused this, and Haragen was a bit too disturbed to speak of it beyond succinct answers, at least at this time."

Thranduil sighed wearily, shaking his head as he lifted a hand to his brow. "We shall have to send a larger party to hunt these spiders. There have been enough animals in the woods these recent years to satisfy their hunger, especially this close to the edge."

Legolas's eyes flashed, and he locked his attention entirely on his father. "Father?" he asked.

Thranduil looked at his son, saw the determination in his bright eyes. Slowly he nodded with a faint smile that wavered between pride and resignation. "You may go. I will send the orders in the morning."

"Thank you, Father," Legolas murmured, bowing his head slightly as he rose to his feet. Almost at the door, he turned back, worry written plainly in his eyes. "Father?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget to sleep," he murmured softly.

Thranduil smiled wearily, knowing soon enough Leherim would be reminding him to eat. "Which one of us is the parent here, son?"

Legolas smiled faintly, but it disappeared as he took in the signs of near exhaustion apparent in his father's bright eyes. "There is no question there, but you no longer have a wife to nag you to keep up your health. You do no one any favors when you neglect yourself for the kingdom."

"The kingdom that does not believe there is any neglect?"

Legolas sighed softly, lowering his eyes. He gave his father a half-hearted shrug. "Price to pay?" he asked quietly.

"It will not always be so," Thranduil reminded him quietly.

Legolas smiled. "And I look forward to that—perhaps too much, in truth." He frowned for an instant and then left, and began walking towards the dining halls for his missed meal when he felt a wave of emotion so intense he held a shaking hand out to the wall, trying to keep himself upright. Pain, horror, sadness, intense sorrow, confusion, hate, and other emotions too flittering or unnamable in the language he used buffeted him, blinding his eyes.

Taking deep breaths he was able to slowly control the tumultuous flood, bringing him back to the present as he shoved the feelings down.

"My lord?"

He blinked and looked up to see a guard and a young maid watching him with worry, confusion and a bit of fear in their eyes.

"Are you well?" the guard asked cautiously, obviously having attempted several times to get a response from Legolas without success.

"I need to find Leherim," he stated briefly, his eyes zeroing in on the maid, having seen her working with other elves recently, including those who always knew where every other staff member was. "Where would Hallanya be at this time?"

"I-in her ch-chamber, m-my lord," she finally got out. "Ar-are you s-sure you're all right?" she asked after a quick pause.

He managed a tight smile to assuage their fears. "I will be when I know what troubles my sister," he stated, walking quickly down the hall, well aware of the stares behind him.

"You think it's true, then?" the maid asked.

"I've seen him do that before, but never that bad. I think it's true," the guard affirmed. He said something else, but Legolas was racing down the stairs as quickly as his title would allow.

The closer he got to Hallanya's room, the stronger the emotions he received even though he was doing his best to block them. It was harder to block Leherim's emotions from entering his mind than it was to keep his from escaping him to trouble her.

Without pausing to knock he entered the room as the plain distress became the most prominent emotion blasting him. Hallanya wasn't crying as he'd expected. Her face was blank, devoid of emotion. Leherim wasn't so composed, tears running down her cheeks and over her fingers, as her hands were covering her mouth, muffling her occasional sobs.

Understanding now that he wasn't consumed by reaching her, he sank down behind his trembling sister, wrapping his arms around her as she slowly turned to him, clinging to him as she cried. He kissed her crown and gave up on trying to control the emotions, letting them wash over him. He'd found through experience that doing that would sometimes help get rid of them more quickly.

They faded only as Leherim's tears slowly stopped. When he was sure there wouldn't be a resurgence, he loosened his hold on his sister and found she was, as he had half expected, asleep. The riot of emotions would wear any elf down fairly quickly. He closed his eyes and released a sigh, before picking her up, carrying her through the halls towards the royal quarters.

"Legolas?"

Legolas turned to see his father with two of his advisors. "Yes, Father?"

"What has happened?" Thranduil asked, scanning his daughter's face, seeing the ravages of tears on her cheeks.

"Hallanya did not take the news of her son well at all. Unless a healer can reach her where she wanders, another death shall be upon us. I have not had a chance to call—"

Thranduil motioned one of his advisors away, who quickly stalked down the hall in search of a healer. Thranduil sighed heavily. "I suspect you shall want your meals sent up tonight?"

Legolas smiled faintly. "If it's not too much trouble," he agreed. "Thank you," he murmured, bowing his head slightly as Thranduil returned the gesture, releasing him. He managed to get the door to their rooms open without too much trouble, and shouldered open the door that led to her bedroom. He was able to shift her after a few moments in such a way he could draw the bed sheets back, and laid her down, drawing her honey hair out from under her to splay across the pillow.

When assured she wouldn't wake up annoyed with him for leaving her in an uncomfortable position, he went through the rooms to his own, setting out his hunting clothes for the next day. He drew one of his daggers, running his finger along the edge, testing the sharpness. Satisfied, he set it away and checked the other, absently rubbing away a marring spot on the blade.

It was the kind of battle he was preparing for that he most enjoyed. A visible target, a purely evil adversary. No cause to think of aiming anywhere but to kill, no idea of mercy. Battling otherwise was troubling for him, because there was always a chance he would make an error in judgment that could be deadly—for others, or himself.

He shook his head at the thoughts and went through his arrows, knowing he had checked them not a week past, but knowing he would be unable to convince himself to stop doing so until he had finished, anyway.

He felt a slight stirring just as he put his bow down, so he got up and passed through his room, his sitting room, through the shared sitting room, through her sitting room, and to her room as she blinked and looked around.

"Monitoring me?" she asked softly, teasing softly.

"I kept an ear open," he agreed, referring to the sort of hearing that occurred when they just let themselves open to sense the other.

She smiled slightly and then her eyes clouded. "Le—"

"A healer has been sent for," he interrupted.

She treated him to another smile, accepting his help to sit up on the edge of her bed. She sighed softly, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Thank you, my brother, she whispered.

He tilted his head at her curiously. For what?

For always being there for me, even when I try not to ask.

"That explains it, then," he murmured softly, absently combing through her hair with his fingers.

"Hmm?"

"I got it in a blast—so intense it took my sight away for a time."

She winced and sent him an apologetic look. Sorry. Were you doing something important?

No, he shook his head. I had just left Father. He's sending our meals up, by the way.

She struggled to get up. When he started to hold her down she sent him a flash of anger which loosened his hold slightly for a moment. I have to eat with Mirimir, she growled.

Not tonight, dear one. I can take her the tray.

She won't like that.

I know, he agreed softly. But you're not leaving these chambers until morning. Right?

"You're worse than a nana, Legolas."

He grinned crookedly. And you love me.

She sighed. Why, I don't know.

He sent her a cheeky grin, kissed her cheek and got up. He turned back, feeling her hesitation. What?

She won't be happy to see you… She'll probably be expecting me.

Legolas smiled at her worried eyes. I know. I'll tell her what's happened, I promise.

See that you do. This may set her back, you realize.

I also realize she has gotten a little better.

Not enough to be so smug, she muttered in his head.

He smiled slightly and nodded, giving her a short burst of understanding as he left, trotting quickly to the kitchens.

Legolas?

Hmm? He murmured, pausing outside the kitchens.

I promised her some meat tonight.

Got it, he murmured, stepping into the kitchen before they could ask if he was all right. Somehow he never had managed to catch Leherim in such a way she seemed to lose herself for a time. That made it seem dreadfully unfair, but he enjoyed the link, for the most part. It was an amazing thing, which helped him stay close to his sister, who had always been his best friend. Because of the connection they had never really been able to fight as children, since when they were young they had even less control over the emotions part of it. Damned hard to hurt someone willingly when you felt it just as strongly as they did. That had also made them both a bit more sensitive to others—for which he got no small amount of ribbing from other males.

It had gotten so bad that Thranduil had sent Leherim to Imladris for a few years so they would grow up a bit apart. He hadn't counted on the distances they could speak through.

Legolas smiled slightly at the memory, and saw a dazzled smile returned to him by the she-elf in front of him. "I've come to pick up Mirimir's tray. Leherim promised some meat on it," he added.

She smiled and lowered her eyes, moving to pick up a tray off to the side. "Just a moment, my lord," she murmured softly, returning after a moment with some meat.

"Our thanks," he smiled once more and tried not to mentally roll his eyes at the look she bestowed on him as he balanced the tray in one hand, running up the stairs to the room Mirimir was in. Well?

Well what?

You know you want to, he grinned. He motioned to the guard, who opened the door. He walked in silently, and saw her sitting on the bed with Leherim's book. She was absorbed by it, apparently. He smiled faintly, sending Leherim the mental image. With a faint sigh he set the tray down. By the time he looked up, she was in the corner beneath the table. His insides twisted, and he closed his eyes, trying not to send the pain through the open link.

Too late, Leherim whispered.

He sighed softly. "I'm sorry for whatever happened to you. I can do nothing to change the past, but the future I can assure you of. You will not be harmed here, not by us, not as long as my family rules these woods." He bowed his head to her, closing his eyes in a display meant to assure her he didn't fear her or intend to corner her, before heading back to the door before he got a mental nudge. Oops, he murmured.

Ha, ha.

"Hallanya, Garenti's mother, did not take the news well. She went into a fading state with Leherim in the room. It was a bit traumatic for her, and she is to remain in our chambers for the rest of the night. She will return by breakfast." He looked up slightly. Was that all?

Tell her to sleep well.

He smiled slightly, giving the she-elf the kindest glance he could muster. "She says to sleep well." He fancied he saw a slightly surprised, speculative look on her face, but she tilted her head, her short dark hair sliding to block her eyes. "You let her cut your hair," he murmured softly. "It looks nice," he added, before leaving.

He missed the shocked blink of light grey eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Well, seven people want me to keep on going… so I will. Of course, if I post several chapters after this with no comments, I'll begin to wonder…

In all seriousness, thanks for letting me know you're reading—I hate the idea that I'm just taking up space with worthless words no one cares to read, so knowing anyone is reading keeps me writing!

Nea.