Chapter Two

Luthin sat still atop his horse. He ignored the urge to push his horse forward and burst through the gates of Mirkwood and rush lovingly into his family's arms. He had been away for four weeks on a novice trip that would ultimately decide who was ready for the advanced warrior training and who had to wait another year. It was a trip that was dreaded and anticipated by all who wished to become warriors. Luthin did not doubt his abilities as a warrior and he knew that this trip had proven him to be ready to take that final step towards becoming a guardian of his home.

As happy as he was to be coming home, he wondered how things had been progressing. It had taken all of Idrial's and Kelderas' prompting to make Thranduil allow Luthin to go to the camp in the first place. Thranduil had wanted Luthin to stay at home and wait until next years. Luthin had agreed with him at first, but when his siblings had pointed out the need to get on with things as normal and not sink into despair, Luthin had began to ask his father to be allowed to partake in the novice trip. Thranduil, after many arguments and a few down right fights, had agreed on letting Luthin go.

And now he was home.

Luthin smiled to himself at the thought of seeing his brothers and sister again. He had missed them all terribly and there hadn't been a day when he hadn't worried about them. He had often wondered if things were truly going back to normal with his family. He hoped that he would come home to Kelderas' teasings, Idrial's daydreams, and Legolas' laughter. Luthin had missed his younger brother's laughter the most on this trip. Possibly he had missed it because he had left missing it. Legolas had been sorely affected by the death of his mother, as they all had, but none more so than the elfling. Luthin shuddered at the thought of his brother bearing witness to Narsine's last moments of life.

"I hope this will be the last time I take this trip," came a voice to Luthin's right, shaking him out of his reverie. Luthin turned and saw an older elf whom he had gotten to know over the course of their training. The elf's name was Losmor, and he had gone on the novice trip a total of three times. This was his third and Luthin doubted it would be his last. The elf was just not skilled enough to move on, though maybe the mentors would take pity on him...or learn to hate him and move him on to get him out of their hair. It was not that Losmor was a disobedient elf, nor was he a rather rude one, in fact, Losmor was very courteous and pleasant. It was only that he wasn't the brightest of the elves.

Luthin chuckled a bit at Losmor's forlorn look. "The mentors will do what is right," Luthin said, knowing that it was the truth. "You needn't worry."

"But I do," Losmor whined. "I know they will never let me go forward. Maybe I am just not meant to be a warrior."

"There's always that to consider," Luthin said, grinning as Losmor shot him a dirty look. "But then there's always room for improvement. And you've got skill, you just haven't brought those skills to their full capacity. It takes time."

Losmor snorted and looked at his friend. "Listen to you," he said. "You talk as though you were royalty."

Luthin grinned a bit. "Who me? Don't be daft."

The two broke into laughter and only quieted down when an older elf mentor rode up beside Luthin. Luthin turned and saw that it was his own mentor, Meneldur. Luthin smiled at the older elf whom he had come to know as a good friend and excellent warrior.

"We are almost home," Meneldur whispered, nodding his head forwards. Luthin looked and smiled when he saw the gates and guards waiting for their return. "It is good to see you come back in such high spirits."

"You expected differently?" Luthin asked, quirking an eyebrow in mock exasperation.

Meneldur's face took on a serious note. "I spoke with a few of the guards the other day, as they were passing through to reach the northern border." Meneldur looked Luthin in the eye. "They say that your family still grieves."

Luthin felt his own shoulders slump a bit. That hadn't been the news he'd wanted to hear. He closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them again when he realized that Meneldur was watching him worriedly. He forced a smile onto his face, but all could see that it wasn't genuine. "The grief is still fresh," Luthin whispered. "They just need time."

Meneldur raised an eyebrow at his young charge. "And you are fully healed?"

A small grunt escaped the young elf's lips. "No, and I never will be. But Nana wouldn't want us all to sulk around like lost children. We have things to do and people to attend. Give them time."

Meneldur nodded and said nothing more as the small band of novices passed through the gates. Luthin noticed first that many of the novices' parents had come out to greet and welcome them home. Luthin saw Losmor's parents come and hug him gratefully. Luthin quickly scanned the crowd to find his father, but knew already in his heart that he was not there. However, he was rather surprised to see Idrial coming towards him. He took in the sight of her, relishing in the familiarity. But it was short lived when he noticed the unnatural pallor that had overcome her and the tired expression that marred her beautiful face. No, things were not back to normal with his family.

"Welcome home, Luthin." Idrial whispered, not exchanging formalities as normal, but pulling her younger brother into an unashamed embrace. Luthin hugged her back, noticing how she lingered in the hug a moment after he tried to pull back. But soon she let go and looked Luthin in the face. He was surprised to see her eyes glazed with unshed tears, but she was quick to turn away and hide them. "I have missed you."

"And I you," Luthin said, letting the stable hands take his horse. "How had you been, Idrial?" Luthin asked, taking ahold of his sister's hand in his own and walking with her. It was a motion they had done since Luthin was little, holding hands while they walked. No one doubted the relationship between the royal children, but none were closer than Luthin and Idrial.

"It has been hard without you," Idrial whispered. "Kelderas has grown restless and seeks retribution. Ada refuses to take any sort of action and his temper is always showing itself, even towards delegates from Lake Town. If it keeps up, I fear we may lose our trade. And Legolas..." she trailed off, not knowing how to go on.

Luthin noticed and stopped walking, making him turn to face her. "What of the elfling?" He asked, anxious to hear if his brother was all right. He had hoped the elfling would be the exuberant child he had known before Narsine's death, but now all hope was fleeing from his heart.

Idrial shook her head. "He still grieves, more so than any of us." Luthin's hopes were completely dispelled and he felt as though a part of him had been torn away. "He does not eat, well not enough any way, and his nights are plagued with nightmares. I fear for him." Idrial's voice sunk to a low whisper. "I fear he is fading."

"Do not say such things!" Luthin raised, taking his sister in an embrace again. He pulled away quickly before she could hug him back. "Legolas just needs time to grieve. He will take longer than the rest of us, but soon we shall have our little brother back, you shall see."

"I hope you are right," Idrial finally let a small smile grace her lips as she nodded towards her brother.

Luthin huffed with mock hurt. "Of course I'm right," he said in his best impression of his father. Then his features softened and he rubbed his hand on Idrial's arm. "And you," he began. "You fret over all of them."

"I cannot help it," Idrial said, shaking her head. "If not I, then who?"

The siblings walked together again, towards the palace. "Father's in a meeting," Idrial announced. "And Kelderas is out riding, to clear his head I think."

"What of Legolas?"

"I believe he is with Saleas," Idrial smiled a bit as a thought came to her. "I think that your homecoming will be most welcomed by him. He has missed you as well, though he has not outright said it."

"Then let's surprise the little sprig, shall we?"

"I can't believe we're finally going to meet King Thranduil," an excited Elladan announced as he rode next to his twin brother, who shared an equally excited face.

Elrohir nodded in agreement and added, "Yes, and his sons and daughter. Ada, we have heard so much about them that I feel as though I know them already."

Elrond smiled at his sons as they continued to express their excitement. He looked over at his wife, Celebrian, as she rode next to him. She turned and smiled back at him. They had left the morning after Elrond had received the note from Idrial. He had insisted that this was a matter that could not be put off. Along with his wife and sons, Elrond had invited Glorfindel to accompany him. Without question, the elf had steadily agreed. Elrond had his reasons for bringing along the elf, mainly because he knew what effect Glorfindel's presence would have on the offspring of Thranduil.

Glorfindel was the reincarnation of the ancient warrior, the balrog slayer. Though the current Glorfindel could remember little of his previous life, he was still sometimes plagued with nightmares that could attest to his heroic deeds. Glorfindel was truly the greatest warrior in Rivendell, and as a child the skills had come naturally. He knew answers to things without knowing how he knew and he could sense the presence of dark creatures more so than any other elf he had ever met, sometimes even greater than Elrond, who had the gift of foresight.

"This will be no easy trip," Glorfindel piped up. Elrond turned to look at his old friend. The twins looked towards their mentor as well. "Mirkwood has suffered a great loss and is still grieving. It may not be as pleasant as you hope it will."

The twins looked at each other and Elrohir was the first to say something. "Yes, but, don't you think that our charm and good looks will break through their shells?"

Elrond smiled. This was why he was bringing his sons. He knew that they both understood grief and the effects it had on others. He knew that they knew and could find just the right things to say to lighten the mood. He could only hope that Thranduil and his offspring could be lightened. Elrond frowned at the thought. He had known Thranduil for many years and had fought with him in the Last Alliance. He knew how much Thranduil treasured his family. Thranduil kept vast treasures and was always looking for more, but his greatest treasure was his children. He loved them more than life itself, and that was what scared Elrond. Should Thranduil's children fade from grief, so would Thranduil, and vice versa. And it seemed that both were fading and the other were so doomed.

"And the path to Mirkwood is not an easy path either," Glorfindel said. "I've traveled it many times and each time it has gotten harder."

"With spiders?" Elladan asked. As an elfling, Elladan had always loved the stories about spiders and spider hunts. A part of him was excited to see the realm in which the spiders called home and hoped he would see one. But another part of him hoped the spiders would stay far, far away.

"Yes," Glorfindel said, nodding his blond head. "The last time I rode to Mirkwood, I encountered three along my way."

"You fought off three spiders?" Elladan asked.

"Alone?" Elrohir added.

"Yes," was all Glorfindel gave, though he looked over at Elrond and winked. Elrond could only smile and shake his head, for he knew that the truth of the matter was that Glorfindel had come across three spiders, and he had fought them, but he had not been alone. In fact, Glorfindel had been traveling with seven guards and he himself did not even manage to fire an arrow before the guards had killed the spiders.

"You never cease to amaze," Elrond stated blandly. Beside him, Celebrian chuckled. She reached an arm out and touched Elrond's arm. He put a hand atop hers and they rode like that for a while, listening to Elladan and Elrohir get into a squabble over who would be the first to be stung by a spider. Elrond's heart skipped a beat and silently hoped that neither of them would have to endure such a thing.

Glorfindel rode in silence behind them all, contemplating the possible outcome of the next couple of weeks. He had met Thranduil on several different occasions and the elven king was a proud being. To become so emotionally distraught that his daughter would have to write and ask for help, it was rather disturbing. But he wondered how much of it was true, for surely Idrial would be suffering as well? And Legolas, he had not yet met the young elfling, and found himself quite excited to do so. He had heard that the elfling resembled Narsine in every way possible. That in itself was something to check up on, for Narsine had been very beautiful and if Legolas resembled her, then he had a bright future ahead of him.

Quitely, Elrohir leaned towards his brother and whispered, "Do you think that Idrial is as beautiful as Ada describes her?"

Elladan snorted and leaned towards his brother, not risking his parents or Glorfindel to hear. "El, I think the last thing on Idrial's mind during our visit will be a romantic engagement with you."

Elrohir feigned hurt. "Brother, you hurt me so!" he mocked. "I would never dream of coming in to the palace and charming her with my mere good looks. It is something that just happens naturally to all maidens who lay eyes upon me."

"Yeah right," Elladan crooned. "Elrohir, king of delusions."

Elrohir broke out laughing and Elladan suddenly groaned. "Is it natural for you to make fun of yourself so?" Elrohir asked between gasps of laughter.

"Shut up you troll," Elladan scoffed, smiling after finally realizing the humor. "Just because I call you ugly does not mean I see myself that way."

"We are twins!" Elrohir squawked.

"Yes, but I have a smaller dimple on my right cheek...and the maidens find that very attractive."

Both twins suddenly erupted with laughter, leaving Elrond shaking his head and Celebrian chuckling along with her sons. Glorfindel only smiled. Let us hope they can keep spread their laughter a bit to Mirkwood.