Fear

Light blue eyes the colour of a clear winter's morn squinted against the glare of the hot morning's sun. The group of orcs that the eyes watched were unaware of the elves who were poised in the trees right above them. Calad signalled silently to the elves who were hidden in the branches of the trees opposite the horde. Legolas signalled back and drew his bow taunt. A hail of elven arrow filled the air and a dozen orcs fell. Harsh cries filled the air as the rest of the horde realized they had been ambushed. The orcs pulled out their black bows and soon a deadly crossfire of bolts began.

Calad ducked as a black arrow whizzed past his ear. The group of orcs were two hundred strong and they had strung out along the path taking refuge in the undergrowth. The element of surprise was gone. Calad gave a piercing whistle and the elven hunters dropped lightly into the undergrowth. The enemy must be killed. It was time for knife work. The elves fought silently and deadly and for a time only the grunts and cries of the orcs could be heard.

Calad found himself facing three of the horde. Two were in front him one slightly behind. He took a twisted stance his right knee bent, left leg extended. He held one knife extended behind him one in front. He faced the two in front, trusting to his keen hearing to warn of any movement from the one at his back.

Suddenly they moved. The two in front rushed at him swinging their sharpened blades. He dropped to a crouch sweeping both knives in an X arc before him and then thrust up. The two orcs were impaled on his knives. There was a whisper of movement behind him. He pulled, desperate to free his silver blades, but the weight of the corpses held them firmly. He whirled empty handed, letting go of the knives and the bodies fell. The orc behind had already started that fatal stroke that would pass through skin, muscle and bone. It would cleave his head from his body.

Calad stood unarmed and proud. Suddenly the orc's eyes widened in surprise. He grunted and fell forward his stroke unfinished. Four elven arrows sprouted from his back. Calad watched them in surprise. He looked up to the trees. One elven hunter stood there. One who had not heeded the call to battle. It was Legolas.

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Calad stood before his father giving him the report of their attack on the latest orc raid into Mirkwood. Legolas stood a little to his right. As Calad spoke Legolas grew tense. He waited with dread for Calad to speak of his disobedience and his fear. His mind played back the scene. He had heard Calad's signal and all around him his comrades had leapt to the forest floor to do battle. But Legolas could not move. The stench of orc had come to him and with it memories of his degradation. He had clutched onto the tree for support as a wave of dizziness had assaulted him. He had gazed in horror at the mass of churning bodies below him and he had begun to shake. He felt hands on him and smelt sweat. He shook his head trying to clear his mind of the memories but still he was frozen. He was terrified. He could not fight. His saving grace had come when he had spotted Calad in danger and suddenly his fear was gone. He had fired without thinking and the orc had fallen. He had seen the stunned look on his brother's face as he caught sight of him hidden in the trees. Then he had known shame.

Suddenly he realized Calad was finished. Of the two hundred orcs that had attacked, only seven had survived to flee to Dol Gudur. Thranduil was proud; he clasped his sons' shoulders and dismissed them. He smiled at them both and urged them to eat and rest.

The two withdrew. As the doors closed behind him Legolas stopped Calad in mid stride.

"Why did you not tell him?" he asked almost angrily.

"Tell him what?" Calad tilted his head in inquiry.

"That I refused to fight, that I stayed out of harm's way."

"Legolas you saved my life."

"I did not follow orders, Calad."

"Thank Eru for that."

"Calad," hissed Legolas in frustration.

"You saved my life little brother." Calad said again gently, "Should I fault you for that. Your choice to stay in the high ground afforded you a better view of the battle. Your help was most timely and appreciated. Come, let us eat." With that Calad gave him a squeeze and walked toward the kitchen. Legolas followed on leaden feet. Calad was determined to overlook his cowardice, but he could not. He sat in the kitchen and listened numbly to the banter around him. The patrol was proud of their success. Not one elf had been lost in battle. Only five had been injured and those not seriously. Cheers went up as wine flowed. Legolas ate nothing and drank little. He was not a part of this. He was no warrior.

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Yalie entered his brother's room on silent feet. On his return from patrol that night Calad had pulled him aside and told him what had transpired during the day. Yalie had felt as he did when Legolas had been taken; rage and sorrow built in him and he felt as helpless as he did then.

He looked at the huddled form that lay curled on the bed in the shadows. He knew from his breathing that Legolas was awake. He padded to the bed and sat on the edge. He quietly placed the tray of food he had brought on the wooden bedside table. He sighed and looked at the hunched shoulders under the sheets. The golden head was buried under the pillows.

"Go away." Legolas mumbled.

"Not until we talk little leaf." Yalie said patiently. He waited for a few moments more then placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder. His reaction was immediate. He flew up. His face was a mess of tears and sweat, his hair was tangled and stuck to his head.

"Do not touch me." Legolas sobbed, "I do not deserve your love."

Yalie, a strong and powerfully built elven warrior gathered the struggling Legolas easily in his arms and pressed him against his chest. Legolas moaned and tried to pull himself away, but Yalie simply cupped his head and held it steadily against him. Legolas cursed and twisted but Yalie was unrelenting. Legolas stilled as his sobs grew deeper and deeper. Tears soaked Yalie's shirt as Legolas cried tears that spoke of an unending grief.

Yalie said nothing, letting the rage and hurt that Legolas felt pour out. Yalie's anger at the foul creatures that had reduced his brother to this sodden figure burned within him. He remembered how beaten Legolas had looked when he had returned. He remembered how he had shied away from casual intimacy for months, how he had woken from nightmares night after night, his eyes wild with fright, screaming for mercy.

Those had been trying times, but little by little the warrior in him had returned. Legolas had begun to smile again. He had been the leader on many patrols and many spiders had begun to flee at his very smell.

Then it all happened again. This time when he returned, Legolas had withdrawn into himself to a place they could not reach. He had laughed and hunted and taken his place on patrols, but his sea blue eyes were dead. His smile, always in place was a mockery of his previous warmth. Yalie rested his cheek on the top of his brother's flaxen head. He did not know how to help. The creatures responsible were all dead and Legolas had gone beyond his reach. There was nothing upon which he could take his revenge. He released Legolas as his sobs lessened and Legolas sat up with a bowed head.

"Ped an enni .Talk to me little leaf. Tell me what happened." He urged.

"There is nothing to tell Yalie." Legolas said softly and he raised his head to look into his brother's eyes. Yalie was stunned at the defeated look in those eyes.

"I cannot fight anymore. The thought of it makes my knees quiver and my gut clench. I grow sick at their smell. I…" Legolas stopped and closed his eyes. He leaned back wearily against the wooden bed post. "I am useless to you, to father. I am no longer a warrior."

"Legolas, ech belda, you have over come this before, you will do so again." Yalie said gripping his brother's hand tightly.

Legolas looked at their clenched hands and tears slipped down his cheeks. He was weary of life, so weary. He looked into Yalie's eyes and said, "Not this time, some hurts go too deep."

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Legolas sat his horse easily. He was dressed for travel. He carried supplies for at least three weeks. Calad, Revail and Yalie stood around him. They were all so alike he thought as he looked at them. They were all tall proud and broad shouldered like the King. Their faces were all oval with noble chins, their cheekbones and forehead high like the King.

Each of them had different shades of his wavy yellow hair. Revail the oldest had hair as light yellow as the first burst of morning sun and his sparkling eyes were the colour of the clear morning sky. Calad the second, had the pale yellow hair of wheat. His eyes were the pale blue of winter skies, but for all that they always shone with warmth. Yalie the third had the hair of yellow cornflowers. His eyes were the dark blue of stormy seas. Just then they were looking at him in concern.

Legolas smiled at them all, a genuine smile. He knew he looked as different from them as stone from wood. His face was delicate with a strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. His cheeks were hollowed and his eyes were a warm sea blue. His hair was golden and hung in straight lines past his shoulders. He was not tall as they and he was much more slender.

"Mar bedithach?" asked Revail, finally breaking the silence.

"I will head west." Legolas answered.

"To Rivendell?" Calad asked.

"Mayhap, I do not know." Legolas said with a frown, for he really had no further plans past leaving Mirkwood.

"Be safe muindor tithen. Return to us when you will."

Yalie clasped his hand warmly then stepped back. The three watched as Legolas waved in farewell and cantered from sight. The border patrols would keep him safe until he crossed the edges of Mirkwood, then…

Thranduil stepped out of the doorway where he had been standing. He had given Legolas his blessings to leave earlier and they had said their goodbyes. But Thranduil was a stubborn elf. He stood among his sons and the four were so alike in posture and form that for a moment the picture they created was breathtaking and formidable.

"Calad?" Thranduil asked his eyes on the now empty path that Legolas had taken.

"All is ready father." Calad responded softly. He whistled and his favourite mount Vryn came forward. The horse was tall and powerful and black as night. Calad mounted quickly. He Revail and Yalie clasped hands briefly by way of farewell. Thranduil stepped forward and looked up into Calad's pale eyes. He saw love and respect there.

"Keep him safe and bring him back to us," said Thranduil.

"I will father." Calad smiled and as the King stepped back nudged his horse. He soon disappeared into the forest.

"The Valar be with you both." the King whispered.

Revail squeezed his father's shoulder in reassurance. Thranduil hugged both his sons; they turned to enter the palace. At the threshold Yalie looked back for one brief moment at the empty path behind them.

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Night had fallen over the forest of Mirkwood. Thranduil sat alone in his chambers sipping from a delicate glass, vintage wine. His scanned the darkened section of the forest that he could see from his window. Not for the first time he wished he had the gift of foresight like the queen Galadriel or the ability to communicate empathically like lord Elrond. His strength lay in leadership and battle. He was an excellent king. Yet now he would exchange it all for a chance to reach out to his youngest.

He loved all his sons and he knew that they each knew this. But just as Revail was his head, Yalie his eyes and Calad his limbs, Legolas was his heart. He supposed ruefully that it was because of them all, Legolas had the beauty and persona of his dead queen Lithoniel. He was lithe and gay and free spirited; a true elf unburdened by time or evil.

He had the sparkles of the stars and the mischief of a hundred elflings in his eyes. When he smiled he lit up even the dreariest of hearts. His smiles spoke of clear days and the joy of living. Like his mother his voice was beautiful, clear and melodious. He could charm the wildest beasts when he sang. Even the dark trees of Mirkwood always greeted him in song when he climbed among their branches. He had so loved to sing.

But Legolas had not sung in a long time. His eyes had lost their sparkle. His warm smiles had turned to sickly grimaces. Thranduil had had to watch him wither and feel his own heart break with each passing day. He had reached out to him only to be pushed aside by clever words and logical excuses. He had let Legolas go hoping somehow that time away from the constant dangers of orcs and spiders would lighten his weary heart. But right now Thranduil wanted his son back.

The trees close to the palace wall bowed their boughs in sorrow as their king gave way to grief.

Notes:

muindor tithen little brother

Mar bedithach where will you go

ech belda you are strong

Ped an enni look at me

Vryn black

TO:

LOTR faith thank you and I hope this one pleases you too.

PIE as always Thank you for helping!!

THE past is prologue Your words were kind and I thank you.

Kitsun kida Did you like this one?

Silvertoekee You are the best.

Deanna More for you.