Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR.

Rating: PG – 13

Author's Note: Many thanks to Gabriel, who reviewed Tears of Yesterday! I am so honored to hear that you like my writing style in that piece – I will have to try to cultivate that style more thoroughly! ;) Thank you so much for your praise, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the stories I write! They all interconnect eventually! ;)

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by Kasmi Kassim

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From Twilight to Dawn

Chapter 12: All That Weeps

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The forest was dark. The guards moved silently through the path, determined to drop off the men as far away from the castle as possible. Painful groans filled the air as mortal bodies dragged in the dirt, but the elves paid no heed.

"Wait!"

The guards turned in surprise and watched their prince run toward them, blood trickling down his side. "My prince!" cried a guard, quickly rushing over to catch his faltering steps. The prince gasped for breath as he skidded to a halt before the group of guards and men.

"Do not...banish them..." panted the prince.

The captain of the guards frowned in confusion. "But my prince, my lord your father has commanded-"

"Put them in the dungeons!" hissed the prince. Defiant young eyes looked up at the captain. The humans stared, dumbfounded amidst the exchange of words they could not comprehend.

The captain shook his head apologetically. His lips were set in a grim line of determination. "Forgive me, my prince," he said. "But the king-"

The prince's hand shook. He looked up suddenly, and the guard took a step back. The intense fire that raged in his eyes was that of his father, of the young prince Thranduil in his hour of wrath.

What choice did he have?

The guard took a deep breath. To disobey the king, or to disobey the prince. The wrath of the king, or the wrath of the prince.

Before he could act, the prince made the choice for him. The young elf shoved the guard out of the way, and grabbed Gama's collar. Seemingly oblivious to the shackles wound around the prisoner's limbs, he promptly turned toward the castle. Panicked, a guard blocked his way. Legolas looked up defiantly.

"They will perish if you leave them to the orcs like this!" hissed the prince.

The guard clenched his fists. "Do they deserve any less, my prince?" he asked, eyes hard. His gaze flitted toward the bloody trail that marked the adolescent's path. "Do they deserve to live, after what they have done, after what they have tried to do?"

The prince stared down at Gama, who was on his knees, too petrified to do anything but stare back. Then the prince turned his eyes to scan the rest of the men. The men who had attended the feast, the men who had tried to convince the Silvan elves to rebel against the king. He turned back to the guard. His eyes were glazed with glittering desperation.

"I care not whether they live or die," he whispered. "But I need answers."

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Thranduil paced restlessly back and forth, biting his lips as he did so. The study seemed suddenly small, suffocating. He looked up toward the splendid tapestry that hung on the wall, an image of a happy family of three. The king, the queen, and the prince...all smiling, all so happy.

"What would you tell him?" he whispered, coming to a halt. Hesitant fingers reached out, gingerly touching the tapestry. "What would you say?"

Why did you kill them, Father?

As he let the healer bandage his side, the youth had penetrated him with his gaze, the young eyes shooting into his heart an innocence that was proud and honest – and all the more fragile because of it. Those azure blue orbs had burned into him, defiant, pleading. He gritted his teeth.

Did you really do that, Ada? Massacre helpless humans? Did you really?

With a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes.

"I do not want to be a disappointing father," he whispered wearily. He opened his eyes. The light blue eyes were forlorn, helpless. "Help me. Tell me how to weather this."

Trembling fingers painfully clutched the tapestry.

"Sire!"

He whirled toward the door, when a guard burst in. With a quick bow of apology, the guard looked up with urgency. "Orcs are attacking, my lord. They have penetrated the defenses while the watchers were distracted by high alarm calls from the castle. The prince is out there."

Thranduil's breath stopped.

Have you ever killed an elf, Father?

"Call the healers on alert," he ordered briskly, grabbing his bow from the wall. "Summon the fourth squad to the north."

The sentry ran back out. Thranduil threw off his long robes, revealing a light armor strapped over a tunic. The armor had become a customary element to his daily dress now. He grabbed his sword and strapped it onto his side.

"Disobedient, stubborn, fool of a leaf," he muttered, glancing out the window toward the garden. Toward the empty stone bench that rested in his sight.

Did you know that we have been killing tortured, mutilated, wretched elves?

"Valar, don't you dare take him away again," he muttered, and flew out of the room.

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"Stop!" cried a guard, running toward the prince amid the swarming orcs. "My prince, no!"

Legolas was cutting his way through the orcs, wading through the panicked screams of the men who were attempting to free themselves of their shackles. Cries of despair ripped through them as orcs lunged into their midst. The men would meet their doom if left in their shackles; the group of elves was small, and reinforcements could not be expected anytime soon – the entire kingdom was still in an uproar after what had just transpired. Instantly foreseeing the doom of the men, Legolas already had his knife drawn as he ran toward them amid the frenzy of shouts and roars and blades.

"My prince!" cried another guard. The prince paid no heed. Vicious swings sparked right and left, and he was a golden flash that flew among the men, cutting their chains loose.

"Run!" he cried in the human tongue, turning away from the men and facing the orcs once more. The men could receive no protection from the elves presently; they would need to protect themselves hereafter. The elves fought their way to the prince, and realigned around him. The men backed away from the deadly flickers of blades wielded by the elves. Backing away, back toward the path. Toward the orcs.

The prince glanced, and his eyes widened in horror.

"No!" he cried. "Come back! The orcs will kill you!"

The men were too blinded by panic and terror to pay heed. They moved away from the bandaged body of the youth; one man turned and ran, away from the young elf who was their captive before and now protected by his kinsmen. The rest of the men followed suit; they took to their heels and fled amid the chaos. Straight toward the orcs that kept coming and coming.

Catching a bow and a quiver of arrows that a sentry threw toward him, Legolas quickly shot down one of the orcs that rushed toward the men. "Come back!" he cried, desperation shattering his voice into the sunless sky. The men were running to their death. Animosity and hatred forgotten, he leaped to and fro, battling orcs, calling for the men. Men and elves were brothers once...were they not?

Or was that all in the past now?

The orcs were elves once, the old man had told him. In the fading light of the dark forest, he had smiled mysteriously through his silver beard, almost as ancient and wise as a Maia. But that is all in the past.

Legolas felt cold. His hands trembled.

But it was all in the past. The orcs were no longer elves. They were the enemy. They had killed his mother. It was all in the past. It was all in the past. Humans were no longer allies. It was all in the past.

Gritting his teeth, he shot toward the orcs once again.

It was all in the past. Nothing more.

Valar, who was he fighting?

Legolas' breaths began to accelerate, out of sync with his honed movements. His body knew exactly what needed to be done, despite the confusion in his head.

"My prince!"

Legolas leaped back as a black blade grazed his neck. He shook his head in desperation.

The orcs were elves once. But they were enemies now.

The humans were brothers once. But they had tried to kill his father.

The orcs were attacking. He had to save the humans.

Or did he?

Who was he fighting? What was he fighting?

What was he afraid of? What was he trying to blot from his sight? Erase from existence, from his knowledge?

His eyes widened as an orc fell at his swing, inches away from Legolas' face.

Face the enemy. They are the enemy. Face the present. Kill to survive. Kill before you get killed. Kill whoever tries to kill you. Do not discriminate among your foes. Your enemy is whoever threatens your existence. Even your father, even your son.

All in the past.

The world blurred around him. His body was shaking uncontrollably. Somewhere distant, he heard the screams of the men.

Legolas watched, feeling strangely numb, as the men's bodies flew into the air. Shredded to pieces along with crimson splashes. Trampled under heavy feet. The world was spinning.

All in the past, Legolas. All in the past. It does not matter.

Kill them before they kill you.

His body continued to kill, but he was not in his body. He was somewhere else, someplace haunted and vague and misty – and watching, watching his body perform the beautiful and deadly dance under the dulled rays of the sun.

Bright red flashed before his eyes.

"Run, Prince!"

He turned, slowly and numbly, as an orc leaped into the air and dived toward him. His arm raised a silver blade, calmly, waiting for the orc to arrive to doom.

No!

He suddenly twirled his body to the side, managing to avoid the pounce and the swing. The orc leaped on top of him before he could roll and get back onto his feet; they were soon locked in a desperate struggle, the orc diving maniacally toward the white throat that concealed pumping red blood, the unmarred creature fighting to keep breathing.

Two blades crossed and trembled, a silver cross under the gray skies. Red eyes met blue, teeth were bared, hot breaths mingling between the weapons of death that pressed against each other.

The perfect balance began to slide when the elf twisted his blade, pulling it to the side and raising the following elbow into the orc's face. The whole weight of his body thrown off balance as the swords slid further to the side, the orc momentarily loosened his grip when the elf's elbow attacked his facial bone, swift but powerful. An ear-splitting screech of metal ensued, and the silver cross fell apart, each drawing a slender silver arc under the gray sky. The orc's sword flew across the bloody dust and fell some distance away, onto the dirt. The orc attacked with renewed ferocity using bare hands, and the elf's sword also rolled in the dirt. The two began struggling bare-handed, rolling on the black soil. Everywhere the fallen creature of long-gone beauty touched, he clawed with howls and grunts, and under his vengeful hands the smooth skin began to break and tear, marring more and more the target of his eternal wrath, the creature that still walked upon the earth with bliss and song and beauty.

Fierce pants and growls mingled in the air as the blessed and the cursed clawed at each other. Warm blood pumped from the broken surface of the elf, seeping into the black soil. And under the bloody struggle of the two irreconcilable brethren, the dark earth began to gather puddles of damp blood, and soon the two creatures were savagely thrashing in the puddles of warmth that splashed, reached into the calm gray skies, rained on them again – orc soaked in red, elf soaked in black – and mournfully, silently, the mingling red and black began to stream and flow on the warm moist earth in salty rivulets.

The orc's claws dug deeper into the elf's throat. The elf's foot grazed an abandoned bow. The orc began to crush the elf in a deadly grip. The bow twirled and flew into the elf's hand. The orc froze as the sharp end of the bow slammed into the back of his neck. A whimper of pain escaped his lips.

Out of the puddle of black and red, one creature fell and remained still, and one creature rose unsteadily, broken and marred.

The battle was dying away.

Legolas looked up to see another orc point an arrow toward him. An elven arrow. Legolas' eyes suddenly filled with mist. Why the daylight suddenly became foggier, he did not know.

He watched, strangely drained, as the elven arrow flew in his direction. His body moved automatically, but it staggered and collapsed onto its knees. Legolas hung his head.

A clear thump was heard. Legolas raised his gaze, and saw the arrow jammed against a tree that stood to his side, some distance away. Wedging it securely against the trunk was another arrow, its tip cleanly piercing the shaft of the arrow intended for him.

Legolas turned his head. Another arrow was released from the side, opposite of the tree. The orc fell dead.

With difficulty, wondering at the sudden haziness in his sight, Legolas stood. Standing still in the silver mist, his father was tall, beautiful, distant. Watching him in silence. Legolas stared numbly at the practiced fingers hovering over the bowstring, and at the orc that fell dead. And then, back at the orc that had fallen at his hands.

The din had died down. Warriors were helping each other stand, collecting weapons. No deaths on the elves' side. The corpses lying around were humans and orcs, their faces hideously twisted in terror and anger, their bodies crudely broken and frozen in their last movement before death, bathed in blood.

The battle was over. And Legolas stood still, drained, relieved, restless.

It had felt...like home.

The battle. The killing. The deadly dance of arrows and blades. It was his home, where his heart sang.

Never mind what had happened in the past. He did not have to think, did not have to wonder. He only killed what was before him, facing the present, unquestioning, only answering his instinct. All doubt had fled his mind when he lost himself in the battle.

Death was what he knew best.

And for the first time in the wake of after-battle relief, Legolas wanted to cry.

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As the guards cleaned the area and glanced in his direction, the king stood still and silent, his armor unmarred, his hair resting serenely on his shoulders and chest, fingers still hovering over the bowstring that had saved his son. Standing still, as if still watching the ghost of his son that had long disappeared. And from the depths of the dark forest that embraced his child, a nightingale began its lonely song.

Stilled in time among streams of warmth that flowed under their feet, two pairs of blue had met, clashed, mingled – and after the prolonged silence, azure blue eyes had turned away, and the youth had disappeared into the darkening forest.

And the king knew – that the haze had cleared from the youth's eyes, crystallizing into a heavy trail into the mournful silence of the dark earth.

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To Be Continued

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Unsung Heroine: Oh yes, the tension...;) I enjoy your comments so. Thank you!

Coolio02: Yes, I love father/son tension. Haha. Thanks for the review!

Brazgirl: I hope your conflict with your father gets resolved soon. It is hard, isn't it, being disappointed in people. But it will be all right! Be happy! ;)

Rede: Hahaha, sorry to frustrate you. This one isn't much of a cliffhanger, is it? I love cliffies... I can only thank you for putting up with me! ;)

elvingirl3737: Oh, I'm glad you liked the sequence! Can you tell I love Thranduil too? ;) Haha. Thank you!

Templa Otmena: What a joy to hear your enjoyed the chapter as much as I enjoyed the painful writing process! Thank you for your lovely descriptions of what you felt. And as you do, I worship the ground Thranduil walks on as well. ;) Well, hold on my dear, the descriptions about the past are coming soon...soon...well, sometime. I will focus this story on the discovery and the youth's struggles to deal with various issues, and the past events will be revealed in a prequel that will began immediately after this story is finished. And believe me, this story is getting there! ;) My Greenleaf Chronicles spans several multi-chapter fics that rival the length of The Strength of One Green Leaf and prequels and sequels will crop up one after another, starting with this one. ;) I have them all planned out. So anyway, are you decided in your path now? Going to the uni? I passed my interview with flying colors and am set to study abroad in the fall. But fear not, this fic will be long finished before I leave, and hopefully the next fic too ;) Thank you for the lovely review!