Chapter Four: Long-Awaited Visitors

Three years later

The delegates from Lothlórien would be arriving any day now. The young elf waited patiently watching for them in the midwinter cold as he had for the past two ten days. The brittle branches of the trees creaked in the icy wind but the elf did not heed it, his blue eyes fixed upon the path ahead. He always looked forward to seeing his distant kin for though they seldom visited, they often brought exciting tales of merry adventures in the southern lands to the drear northern forest. Legolas smiled faintly at the thought. Even in winter, his home held an austere beauty of its own.

The black trees crisscrossed in the orange-stained clouds overhead as the last coppery rays of an evening's sunset filtered through their rickety branches. Legolas still did not move even as twilight fell and dusky blue descended upon the forest. His warm breath drifted like smoke and was lost to the night as he gazed up at the stars, his only solace now.

The elf prince's thoughts took a dark turn even as the land turned featureless and dim around him. The situation with his uncle had only worsened as the weeks then months and years wore on. Legolas shivered from more than cold as dark memories pressed upon his mind, which he had long tried to block out. As Ainan grew more accustomed to living in the palace and more bold, he had slowly but surely insinuated himself into every aspect of the prince's life. Eventually, Legolas could not go anywhere without his uncle's permission and if he slackened off in his studies, he was beaten. If he talked back, he was beaten. If he did nothing, he was beaten.

Legolas sighed, realizing that the delegation would not be coming today and he hurried back to his room, fearing to be late. Ainan had set a curfew on him that if he had not returned to his rooms by nightfall, he would be flayed. And his uncle never failed to make sure his nephew was in his room every night. Legolas hurried back to his rooms, passing only servants in the halls.

As a prince, he was granted a suite of rooms in the palace for he and his uncle often studied in the room that held the fireplace, a desk and the large armchair as well as a bookshelf which housed Legolas' lesson books and others he had borrowed or taken from the library. His handmade yew bow and green-fletched arrows leaned against a corner near the window. The adjoining room was the prince's bedroom.

Legolas had not slept in it in years.

With a disappointed sigh, Legolas looked around his room, noticing that the fire had burned low. Suppressing another shudder, the prince fed the fire back into life, appreciating the heat that washed over his chilled body. Legolas soaked in all the warmth he could for he knew the cold would return soon.

Sometimes days or weeks would pass before Ainan would come for him again. But always he would return- angrier than before and beat the young prince until he was sure the errant child had been suitably punished. Many times Thranduil had asked him what the matter was when his wayward son was late to his lessons or a meeting he was to attend- his mother was worried but she knew not why. His friends questioned him, when they saw him, which was seldom now for the prince had no time between his lessons, Ainan's punishments and the chores his father made him do when he was late to his classes. But Ainan had constantly warned him that if he told anyone, he would show the disobedient prince what real pain was. Legolas believed him though he could not see how his situation could darken further.

He could do nothing against his uncle. His father would never believe him and his mother… she seemed so troubled already with his uncle in the palace. He did not wish to burden her with his pains. Kirar might help but since Ainan had give him his first lesson, the lieutenant of the royal guard had been strangely absent.

Legolas shook his head, trying to banish those terrible thoughts. Fear was his worst enemy now and it gave Ainan power over him. He could feel his heart beginning to beat faster and he willed himself to breathe slowly though he did not close his eyes, afraid of the monsters that would erupt behind his eyelids. Finally, he calmed down and looked out at the dark forest again though now the austere beauty was gone- replaced by a cold and empty ugliness. Time had gotten away from him and it was later than he realized. Cold fear squeezed his insides as the moon slowly rose over the treetops and the fire burned to embers in his room.

"Dreaming, young prince?"

Legolas whirled round, his mouth dry even as he broke out into an icy sweat.

Ainan stood in the doorway; his silver-blue eyes fastened on the form huddled against the window. His heart banging against his ribs, Legolas willed himself to stay still and resist the urge to flee from the room. He knew he couldn't run.

As he had nearly every night for the past three years, Ainan locked the door behind him. He turned back to the prince, a faint smile still twisting his lips.

"Shall we review?" Legolas nodded dumbly as he reached for the books on the table next to his water pitcher. Ainan seated himself, as he always did, in the armchair beside the fire.

Ainan flipped open the book of Southern culture and began to quiz Legolas on the various cultures of the people of Harad, Rohan and Gondor. It did not interest the prince much because he had had no dealings with humans and considered them uncouth. But he had studied for hours to appease his uncle- for any lapse led invariably to punishment.

He had studied- he had! But, eventually, he faltered and missed the answer. Ainan's hand snapped out and struck the prince across the face. Legolas flinched away from the contact, his cheek striking the back of the chair he sat in.

As a token of goodwill, Thranduil had appointed his brother-in-law Regent of the realm two years ago. Ainan wore the ring on his forefinger- a golden band of entwining branches with emerald leaves. Legolas wiped blood from his lip that the ornate leaves had cut into his flesh.

"Try again," Ainan encouraged as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Now, Legolas was sure it hadn't. He had become accustomed to his uncle's harsh treatment and he settled himself in his seat again without whimpering. His cheek stung but Ainan was careful never to leave bruises where they were clearly visible.

After he had missed the third question, Ainan lost his patience which seemed to fraying dangerously thin as the days went by.

"You are being insubordinate again, Legolas." The prince looked up, fear clutching at his heart. What had he done now? Quickly, he ran through his mind the thoughts of anything he could have done to put his uncle in a bad temper and could think of nothing.

"You have not studied as you should." The fact that Legolas had nearly worn himself to exhaustion staying up into the cold hours of the night, straining his eyes by candlelight as he struggled to meet his uncle's impossible demands counted little here. Never mind that Sarithan had taken him out on his first patrols of the borders in the early mornings or that the prince's father still requested his presence at various council meetings in the afternoons which were more exhausting still after his lessons.

He suppressed a shudder as Ainan's hand gripped him cruelly tight by the shoulder and dragged him towards his bedroom. The room had not seen daylight in three years and the furniture was beginning to collect dust and smell of decay. Ainan kept it locked at all times lest a venturous maid walk in and see the blood or teeth marks.

Once inside, Ainan locked this door too. How he had gotten the keys, Legolas never knew and he dared not ask- dared not cry as his uncle pushed him onto the bed and removed the rod from the corner where he always kept it.

Legolas took off his tunic and lay obediently facedown on the bed, keeping his arms carefully at his sides. The sheets were stained with old blood but Legolas lay down unflinchingly as he had so many other times. He knew better now- knew that if he cried out or screamed or whimpered his punishment would be worse. Still, silent tears rolled down his cheeks and stained his dirty pillow as the lashes plied themselves on his shoulders. He bit into the sheets to keep himself from crying out as the pain mounted.

Ainan was a master of inflicting pain. He knew exactly where to touch with the rod to exact the most pain in the same place for the longest time, laying new welts onto old ones that were still not fully healed. And he did not even draw blood until the twenty or twenty-fifth lash. Legolas shut his eyes. It was easier if he did not have to see his uncle's handsome face twisted with such hatred though the prince knew not how he had deserved.

Blow after blow rang in Legolas' ears until they simply blended together- one long litany of pain. His cheeks grew hot with pain and embarrassment and the entire time, he willed himself not to cry, burying his face in the pillow and clenching it in his teeth to keep from sobbing. Crying was for the weak, his uncle had constantly stressed. And brought only more pain. The purpose is to make you stronger! You are not weak! You must not cry!

Ainan reined in his anger with difficulty. He could not kill the child. That would raise uncomfortable questions. But, rage still boiled inside him like a splinter in his mind. Every time he so much as looked at the brat he was reminded of everything that had been taken from him: Mirkwood, the kingship… Anariel…

Legolas looked up at him with innocent blue eyes wet with tears but the enraged elf saw only the familiar blue eyes of another- the one who had stolen it all from him! The one who would pay most dearly for the insults he had suffered over the centuries.

Forcing a pained smile on his face, the elf's fingers wiped away the unshed tears with surprising care. Legolas flinched, closing his eyes tight.

"No!" Legolas squirmed in pain and his arm jerked uncontrollably and struck the table beside the bed. The decanter on the table wobbled and the prince held his breath as it wavered dangerously before falling off the table and shattering on the wood floor with a deafening crash. The tinkle of breaking glass sounded like Legolas' heart bursting.

He was in trouble now.

Ainan looked over at his nephew with reproachful hurt in his eyes. He smiled inwardly as he saw Legolas' face relax in an apologetic expression. Slowly, the prince lifted himself shakily off the bed, bent down and began to pick up the shattered glass, wondering why his uncle had not struck him yet. The older elf was capricious as the weather and utterly unpredictable at the best of times.

"I am only trying to help you, tôrion," Ainan said softly, sweeping over beside the prince and gently running his long fingers through the child's hair. Legolas winced and nodded, keeping his eyes firmly fastened on the glass on the floor.

"I know, Vedhir. I'm sorry."

The glass sliced into his finger as it slipped from his hand and the prince gasped at the sharp pain. He watched the blood drip away slowly until the cut healed over. Ainan smiled grimly at the prince's bowed head.

"I will not shame you by speaking of this, Legolas," Ainan said softly, his eyes deceptively mild. "And I trust you will do the same."

Gentle fingers skimmed under Legolas' eyes, tenderly wiping away the unshed tears that lingered on the child's eyelashes. The young elf looked up into his uncle's calm face.

"You know I am doing this for your own good, Legolas."

"Yes, Vedhir. I know," Legolas muttered, casting his eyes to the floor respectfully. "Straighten and clean yourself up, hên (child)," Ainan commanded. Legolas, seeing his dismissal, snatched up his tunic and all but fled from the room, forcing himself to swallow the tears burning his throat as his back throbbed painfully, chafing against the linen of his shirt.

He curled up in the farthest corner of the window seat and looked up for a sign of the stars. But dark clouds covered them and the lights of heaven were invisible this night. Legolas bowed his head, lost so deeply in his thoughts of despair that he did not hear his uncle leave the room and lock the door behind him.


Haldir watched his breath mist before him and curl off into the bitter cold air. The snapping wind howled among the naked tree trunks and the dismal scene only served to deepen the elf's profound sense of homesickness. But he pushed that away with a small, soundless laugh. Here he had been absent from Lothlórien for no more than a few weeks and already he longed to be home!

Although, the elf had to admit as he drew his fur-lined cloak more tightly about himself to ward off the chill and gentle snow, it was warmer and did not snow in Lothlórien- even in winter. Cold sunlight filtered through the trees but it granted no warmth to the small party below.

"We are nearly there," a soft voice said off to his left. The tall elf beside him, Cálivien, was the senior march-warden on this trip though Haldir commanded them. His hair was very light with shades of silver woven into the flaxen tresses that hinted at his Teleri ancestry. His calm green eyes gazed out at the forest, sweeping unceasingly for danger. He was as unshakable in his beliefs as his loyalty to the Lord and Lady of Light. And though he was the eldest present, he always respected Haldir's word as the last on any matter.

There were several other elves that accompanied Haldir on this mission for even in these days of uneasy peace, the passes were still dangerous and the forest of Mirkwood itself was not always a pleasant place. There were four of them traveling on this particular trip- Haldir and Cálivien included.

The other two were younger guards newly appointed to the Northern Fences. Rameil son of Rodhlir was a dark-haired elf of Rivendell who had recently come to Lothlórien to train in the guard there. He was eager for adventure and had offered his services on this mission. He was a good companion though often quiet and kept his own counsels well enough.

The other, Ancadal, was a friend of Haldir's brothers: Rùmil and Orophin. Though still rather young by elven standards, he showed astonishing skill with the bow and had so far been a worthy companion on their travels. Quick to laugh and with a bright face and merry eyes, the young elf was truly an asset to them. Haldir could see why his brothers enjoyed his companionship- he was not as jaded as many of the older elves of Lothlórien were.

Suddenly, the tips of green-fletched arrows gleamed in their faces. Startled out of his thoughts and slightly embarrassed at being caught unawares, Haldir checked his horse, staring into the darkness cast by the umbrage of the trees and the overcast grey sky.

"State your names," came a melodious but indifferent voice seemingly from one of the arrows. Haldir sat up straighter in the saddle, pride returning to him.

"I am Haldir of Lothlórien. These are my companions," he gestured to the ones surrounding him. "Cálivien, Rameil and Ancadal- guardians of the Golden Wood."

Figures cloaked in green and grey stepped out of the shadows and into the other elves' line of sight. It was dark beneath the trees and the pale hair and hands armed with glinting arrows created a disconcerting sense of disembodiment among the soldiers of Mirkwood. The elf directly in front of them bowed low.

"I am Sarithan, Captain of the Border Guards," he said in a mellifluous voice, no longer indifferent but welcoming. "You have been expected for several days now. The King awaits your arrival." Haldir nodded graciously as he thought protocol required and thanked him.

"Come, we must make haste," Sarithan said, setting a brisk pace off the path and into the woods. "Wolves have been spotted and overtaken within three miles of this place. Others will not be far behind." Haldir nodded. They had seen few signs of life in this forsaken forest as they journeyed through it but they had awoken several nights now to the far-off howling of some dark and lonesome creature.

The narrow edging between the trees proved difficult for the horses though the uneven footing was little trouble to the elves. Soon, as if by magic, the grand and sprawling elven palace appeared before them. Haldir and his comrades looked up in awe at the great stone structure that seemed to have grown out of the very bones of the earth.

The horses' hooves clopped on the stone bridge as they passed over the thunderous rush of the black river below. As the wooden gates swung open to admit them a young stable lad trotted over to meet them and took their weary steeds with a smile and a bow.

The Lothlórien messengers dismounted and began to walk towards the sturdy wooden gates of the palace. With a small amount of trepidation, Haldir walked up towards the marble steps looming before them.


The young elven prince wandered the outside halls of his home, deep in thought and weary in body and spirit. His back throbbed dully and he dared not bend overmuch lest he strain and reopen the wounds. If Ainan saw blood on his clothes he would be in even graver trouble. The sound of merry laughter broke his thoughts and he looked out the arched window into the courtyard below.

Rinniad and several others of his friends that he knew from his lessons were sporting about in the courtyard. It was a game favored by the young elves as they practiced their sword play without damaging their steel swords.

Their wooden blades were affixed with soft wraps of linen, soaked with the red dye of the winter berries they had gathered. The muffled clacking of wood rang in the courtyard with the ringing laughter of the young elves as Rinniad managed to tap his opponent across the chest with his sword, leaving a red stain on his jerkin.

Legolas felt a surge of sorrow slice through him. He knew that if he did not hurry, he would be late and his uncle would be angry with him. But, for just a moment, his loneliness broke through his fear. He needed to be with his friends who were beginning to wonder why he avoided them in the halls and did not speak to them when they passed each other on the way to practice. Legolas feared letting his secret slip even to his friends.

For the moment forgetting his troubles and knowing he would face them later, Legolas walked out into the sunlight. His friends welcomed him with shouts of joy and the prince smiled as Rinniad handed him a red-tipped sword with a slap on the back. Legolas winced but a smile managed to break through the pain of his tender wounds.

At that moment, a clatter of hooves reached his ears and Legolas and the others glanced up curiously as the gates opened over the bridge to admit unfamiliar riders draped in long cloaks of elven grey. The young prince watched as the riders dismounted, their faces concealed by their hoods. One, the apparent leader, spoke to Sarithan as a boy led his horse towards the stables.

Hearing the laughter of the children, the elf turned and Legolas caught a glimpse of his face- stern, proud but kind and his grey eyes sparkled with good humor. He smiled gently at the playing youngsters and nodded at Legolas as he noticed the younger one regarding him. The prince nodded numbly back, trying a small smile. Rinniad laughed.

"Legolas! Stop daydreaming! It is your turn," he chuckled. Legolas turned to his friend, wrenching his eyes from the stranger as he rejoined the game, trying not to wince as he pulled at his new injuries.


A light autumn wind tossed the elves' fair hair across their faces as they made their way up the marble stone stairs. The border captain left them at the gate and with a slight sense of apprehension; Haldir continued on through a second doorway into the palace itself.

The room they entered was vast and echoing with an arched ceiling that disappeared into the shadows far above them. Their footsteps seemed loud to the elves' ears as they began to traverse the length of the hall. A stuffy-looking elf in sweeping blue appeared suddenly out of a side door and walked up to them, smiling in welcome.

"Mae govannen, hirim-nin. (Well met, my lords.) I am Telas, the king's councilor." The elf touched his hand to his heart in greeting. Haldir and his companions returned the gesture.

"We wish to see the King if you please, my lord," Haldir said politely. Telas nodded.

"Of course. Follow me."

"Have we visitors, Telas?" a smooth voice asked as the travelers made their way across the great hall. The councilor froze at the sound of the voice and his smile fell slightly before he hitched it back up again.

"Ah, my lord," he gestured to the elf who had joined them. "This is the Queen's brother and Regent of our realm, Ainan."

Haldir looked at the other elf. He was tall and very slender with much darker hair than he had yet seen on an elf of Mirkwood. Haldir bowed respectfully in greeting which Ainan motioned away with a smile.

"A nal?" he inquired. Haldir straightened proudly, squaring his shoulders and lifting his head high.

"I am Haldir of Lothlórien, Captain of the Northern Fences of Lothlórien." The elf smiled, slightly mockingly, Haldir thought.

"That's quite a title."

Haldir said nothing in reply. Ainan's eyes in turn scrutinized the other elves flanking their commander and dismissed them abruptly.

"My brother-in-law is detained at the moment in his meetings. You understand of course." Haldir merely nodded although he was not sure he did. Hadn't the border captain said the King expected them? Why would the King have asked for them if he was too busy to see them? He noticed that Telas had not moved since Ainan had entered and seemed extremely uneasy about something.

"Please, gentlemen. Make yourselves at home," Ainan said amiably. "You will show them their rooms will you not, Telas?" The elf councilor bristled at this servile treatment but nodded briskly.

"Of course, my lord." There was a slight emphasis on the last word and it sounded, to Haldir's ears, as though there might be a mocking ring to it. If Ainan heard, he ignored it.

Telas turned away with a small bow and Haldir followed after him with his companions falling into step beside him. The elf commander had the disconcerting feeling that Ainan's eyes were fixed on him as they left the Great Hall.