Author's Note: Thank you to those who told me to stop being a paranoid idiot in their reviews. But actually, what I meant was- is this series worth it? Could someone please tell me where it is that I have gone wrong with the canon? Apart from the 'Celebrian/ Celebrian' deal? I'd really appreciate any help in making this better. And in learning for next time.

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"Where do we start?" Haldir of Lothlorien asked the next morning, coming to stand in front of the desk where Elladan was sitting. The blond was amused to note that the eldest twin was currently doing his best not to fall asleep where he sat, the dark hair in disarray as if someone had pulled it into spikes in frustrations.

Elladan was, indeed, feeling frustrated enough to pull his hair into spikes. "Do not smirk," he snapped, "Really, Haldir! I will not stand for your insolence this morning!"

"No, my Lord," the Marchwarden smirked.

Grey eyes glimmered a petulant warning and then Elladan sighed. "We do not need to send anyone else out this minute. We received word not two hours ago that Glorfindel and Legolas have found the trail of the one we believe responsible and have gone after him."

Haldir nodded and gestured hesitantly to a chair.

Elladan snorted and shrugged. "I am not the Lord of Imladris," he sighed tiredly, "And there is no need for such formality between friends."

"You have not explained things to me," Haldir began, "Lord Erestor has mentioned the, uh, worrying condition that Lord Elrond is in. I do not need to know why or how; in fact, I do not think I want to know! Doubtless I will have nightmares about it! But I do know that such things are delicate enough for females let alone males and your father cannot be left to wander the wilds like that. But who is it we are chasing? And how has he managed to enter Imladris and leave again, never mind with your Ada unconscious and dragging behind him."

Elladan's eyes were bitter and hard, flickering with a fury that Haldir could respect. Had it been Orophin or Rumil, or even the Lord or Lady he served, he would have looked the same. "You should know," Elladan sneered, "Are not Lothlorien guards trained in stealth and cunning?"

"Lothlorien! But how?"

"He is named Aurief..."

"Aurief! But why is he here? He was permanently discharged from his duties for insolence and disobedience, yes; but why should he kidnap the Lord of Imladris for that? Or is there something more than I want to know in this?"

Elladan's eyes widened at the information and he straightened in his chair with a jerk. "Are you telling me he has been released from his services by you? He said he was on leave for a few months and that the Lady Galadriel sent him here."

"Then he would be lying," Haldir contested, his indignation sending icy waves through the room, "The Lady Galadriel was the one who withheld my decisions. And I know for a fact that she was angry with him for some unspecified reason."

"But if that was the case, then... oh, I don't know! We can only wait for Glorfindel and Legolas to return. At least, I hope that Glorfindel can stop Legolas killing Aurief for the young Prince is likely to shoot him dead on sight!"

"Why would Prince Legolas want to kill Aurief?" Haldir could not help but sound bewildered and frustrated. There was too much to hear, too much he hadn't been told. And he had sworn this morning that he would keep his eyes closed and obey orders, but it was rapidly becoming impossible to function in any sort of logic in a moment where one did not have all the facts. "Do not tell me Aurief has done something to him, too?"

"Yes," Elladan chuckled, enjoying the look on Haldir's face, "He has kidnapped my father." Oh, this was priceless! Erestor had been right; there really should be a painting of this moment.

"But why?" The blond almost wailed, looking ready to drop his head in his hands and sob.

Elladan took pity on him. He did not imagine his father would appreciate Haldir knowing, but if the Lothlorien Captain of the Guards was in any position to help them sort this mess out, then he deserved to be told the story. So Elladan told him. And Haldir's eyes grew rounder and rounder until they looked like boiled gooseberries in his head. And still the tale wasn't done. Elladan blithely described the happenings of the last few months in detail and the blond elf almost fell off his chair with shock. By the time the Peredhil had completed his tale, Haldir had a filmy look of wonder in his eyes.

"The doings in Imladris are everything that is weird and wonderful," Haldir said faintly, "I beg forgiveness when I say that I am wishing for the safe monotony of protecting the Golden Woods. At least there, I do not deal with male pregnancies or kidnapped Elf Lords."

Elladan grinned and shrugged. "People have called the sons of Elrond adventure-prone in the past," he remarked humorously, "They forget where we get our heritage from. And there is no one more adventure-prone than Ada."

"Which one?" Haldir couldn't help but ask, "I must say- this explains your penchant for trouble-making. I cannot swear to it in front of judges, but I'm certain I once heard Lord Celeborn call Aurief the son of a forest sprite."

"Thank you, mellon nin," Elladan growled, standing to his feet and taking them both from the study, "In which case I am now half-forest sprite as well as half-human. Indeed, I am so many other things that it is a wonder I am still an elf!"

The arguments continued as the day progressed. Erestor was beginning to look like a trapped rat with all the extra duties he had to perform and Elladan considered it a good omen that he hadn't pulled all his hair from his scalp yet. The few handfuls would surely grown back soon... he hoped. As for Haldir, now that he had the information, he sat in a tree and chewed silently over it, looking down at his soldiers with large silver eyes that showed his mind was somewhere else entirely.

And evening brought a shout into the Last Homely House- "Lord Glorfindel and Prince Legolas are returned."

The horses limped into their yard and almost collapsed where they stood. Stable hands rushed to check them over, clucking their tongues as the whites of eyes rolled exhaustedly down at them. Glorfindel held a squirming, wriggling bundle in front of him that he gladly dropped to the ground as he dismounted Asfaloth's back. The stallion let out a wicker and gently kicked a sharp hoof into the middle of the bundle. A squeal of pain lifted into the air and made Legolas look like a veritable demon as he smiled in contentment at the sound.

"An apple for you, Asfaloth," the prince murmured, stopping to stroke the downy nose before grabbing the bundle and dragging it out of the yard. From the looks of things, he was controlling himself from simply shoving it under a horse's hooves.

"Legolas! We want him alive, not dead," Glorfindel roared, catching up to the archer and stopping him, "At least pick him off the ground."

"Not I," Legolas snapped, "I don't want his filth on my hands. I don't mind mud; but him... I don't know what infection he might spread to me, vermin that he is."

Erestor and Elladan shared an exasperated look. Legolas' dramatics were a source of amusement for the entire audience around him! Not that anyone would ever laugh out loud; nobody wanted an arrow between the ribs.

Haldir solved the squabble by appearing suddenly behind the two and picking him up while they were occupied. He set the tied captive on him feet with a non-too-gentle hand and shoved him towards the house. "Where is he to be held?"

But Legolas had lost his temper- and very likely his sanity- in the crawling hours without information and to find Aurief did not have his lover or child anywhere in sight had been too much to bear. Glorfindel had only just stopped him from running rampage back to Imladris. The sight of Haldir's insolent decision to take his captive away seemed like the last straw.

Before anyone knew what had happened, an arrow was pulled from the quiver on his back and fitted to the bow with one fluid motion; the wickedly sharp tip was currently pointed to Haldir's throat. "He is mine," Legolas said quietly, "Step away from him and leave him be."

"You cannot kill him, Legolas. We need him alive to tell us where Ada is," Elladan said urgently, "Oh Valar, now is not the time for hysterics!"

"Hysterics are when I do not think clearly, mellon nin. I am thinking very clearly." The bow string pulled tighter in anticipation and Aurief's dark blue eyes widened in fear. And it was that sight which made Legolas drop his hands and put away his weapons. "Bring me another horse," he called harshly, "I will not enter that house until Lord Elrond returns."

The group silently waited until a fresh horse was saddled and brought to him by trembling stable hands. No one spoke a word until he had galloped out of sight, the white of his face enough to warn them that control was a fine thread stretched too tight within him. When he had departed, a collective sigh of relief and sorrow was heard before Elladan grasped a handful of the captured elf's dirt-smudged tunic in his hands and shook.

"You will tell me everything," the Peredhil swore, "Or I will make sure you never use your legs again!"

Had Elrond heard that, he would have been horrified. Then again, with the way he was currently feeling, he might have offered to do it himself. His head no longer ached and the rope had been replaced by chain, but he was still tied to a steel rail in the back of a wagon and his back hurt a little more than he could bear.

The healer who seemed to be in charge of this strange procession had examined him in the morning and when they had stopped during the afternoon, but other than that he had been left to his own devises. His body was aching for the drug that he had not been given recently and with the amount of sweat that was currently dripping down his body, he realized with a sickening feeling that he was addicted to it.

As if on cue, the healer called a halt. Elrond tried to look out, but the flap was closed and there was no light to assist him. He forced himself to lie back on the cushions and relax, but there was no relaxing while his blood lamented for that sweet potion that had sent him soaring to the clouds like an eagle.

"I see you miss your drug?"

Grey eyes looked to the face and shoulders peering in at him from the entrance. He grit his teeth and elected not to answer.

The man entered, his garments appearing a little strange to Elrond's educated eyes. It was not the clothes in themselves- which were, after all, only tunic and trews- but the design that patterned it, and the dark colours that dyed it. There was something about this man that said he came from a people that Elrond hadn't met yet; even his accent was different, though he spoke the Common Tongue fluently.

"I would not be so insolent, slave," the man growled, bending over the elf lord and smirking.

Elrond's eyes widened at the word 'slave'. Slavers! Had the rumours been true and he had been captured by them? Were they mad to think they could capture an Elf Lord and still live to escape to their own countries?

He was so lost in muddled thought that he didn't see the warning before it was too late- the back of the man's heavy hand crashed across his face hard enough to whip his head to the side. He gasped, straightening his neck with a quick shake.

"Our friend, Herdir, will not be coming to care for you tonight, my friend," the man chuckled, "I would advise you not to make an enemy of me."

Herdir? Elrond blinked in confusion. What was a human healer doing with a name that meant 'Master' in Sindarin? He tried to clear his head to think in coherency but that blow only seemed to have made things worse. And his tremors were getting worse. He could hardly see unless in double vision and the back of his tunic was soaked with sweat. He turned away and utilized all of his considerable will in not moaning out loud.

Evidently the man sensed it was useless to say anything to the extremely determined elf sitting chained up in the wagon and got about his business. He pushed the tunic out of the way, grinning with a sneer at the sight that confronted him. Elrond turned his head and refused to acknowledge the derision that bit into the very depths of his soul. He said nothing as the man performed what few duties he had been prescribed and let himself be covered with a blanket against the chill night air. But when the familiar bottle was brought out of a pocket and brought to his mouth, he wriggled away.

"Get that away from me," he snarled, "fool of a human! Have you no sense?"

"I'd hold my tongue, elf! And drink what is given to me! Herdir will not stand disobedience."

"I am not addicting my child to that poison before she is even born," Elrond spat, "Take it away. I will drink no more of it."

"Suit yourself," the man sighed, putting the bottle back into his capacious pocket and preparing to leave, "You will suffer for it. And your child will likely be weaned on this potion... as will all the others."

"Others?"

Green eyes glinted wickedly at him from under bedraggled hair of a rich brown. But the handsomeness of the young man's face was spoilt by his weak chin and cruel mouth. "Do you think we keep you for your company? You are already sold to King Gorrofer. He has a mind to breed his heirs from a prestigious male elf. As for your child," the man scoffed openly, "I don't doubt but that Herdir will sell the mongrel to the highest bidder."

"Wait! Why can she not come with me?" Elrond gasped, eyes wide at the thought of his daughter sent to foreign lands with neither family nor kin, treated like a possession rather than the person she would be.

"King Gorrofer does not want her. Besides, the daughter born by an Elf Lord as renowned as yourself will likely will fetch a high price. Sweet dreams, my Lord."

"Wait!" Elrond called desperately, feeling needle-pricks begin to pierce his skin.

"What is it now, slave?"

"May the flap be left open?" the Peredhil asked. He would not beg; he would not beg; he would not- "Please!"- beg.

All he got a quick shake of the head and was then left in stifling darkness again. He slumped backwards, feeling something tear inside of his mind at the terrifying information he had just been afforded. He had seen this, he had foretold this. But he had not thought his daughter's journey would begin so soon! And he would never see her or hear her voice. She would be lost to him.

The tears came then, slipping quietly from clenched eyelids as he fought to keep his shivering body in check.

And Legolas? What of his child's father? How would Legolas survive this? Elrond shied from thinking that his disappearance would hurt the Mirkwood Prince, but he took it as certain truth that Legolas would do something drastic if his unborn child was wrested from him without trace.

And beneath the blankets, he felt the sharp pain as his daughter moved within him. And that only seemed to make his mixed emotions worse.