Chapter Ten: Dancing on the Edge of a Razor Blade

Cold sunlight filtered down onto his golden hair as a chill wind nipped at exposed fingers and cheeks. Legolas felt the slender veins of the feather shift between his fingers as he squinted down the shaft of the arrow. His arm trembled slightly with the effort of holding the draw on the bow as he kept his eyes fixed on the target.

His uncle insisted that he practice every day. Several times the prince had already had to bandage his fingers when they began to bleed from the cruel treatment he subjected them too and his wrist stung as it chafed against his tunic sleeve. Ainan refused to allow him to wear the protective arm guards and finger slips.

The arrow rested against his cheek for the span of a heartbeat before he released it. The bolt snapped into the middle of the target. Legolas allowed himself a small, triumphant smile but, his unease returned as he glanced discreetly over his shoulder at the watchful shadow standing beneath the umbrage of the waving oak trees.

Legolas recognized the dark-haired elf as the one that had accompanied his uncle into the portrait room. Beneath the cool surface, there was a sense of unbridled violence in those dark, burning eyes. A long mane of leonine hair cascaded down the elf's back, pulled into tight braids at the sides in an old traditional warrior's style. His dark gaze caught the prince's stare, flickered insolently over him and abruptly dismissed him. But those dark eyes continued to stare straight into his own. Legolas shivered and looked away.

The elf had the piercing stare of a raptor.

He had been commissioned by his uncle to watch the prince's every move- something Legolas found distinctly unsettling for the elf never said a word but followed always just around the corner or at his heels like a ghostly shadow.

The prince raked his hair out of his eyes, shivering as the wind bit through him. He couldn't wear his cloak either- a further punishment; and the temperature had dropped considerably. Snow would be gathering on the low hills outside of the palace and the black forest river churned icy froth. Down in the cellars where he continued to slave at night, they had to pack the wine in thicker barrels after heating it so it would not freeze completely on its journey down the river to the Men of Long Lake.

Night came early and soon it became far too dark for even Legolas' keen eyes to see the target. The shadows seemed to wrap around him, embracing him in their cool tendrils and the moon was cloud-shrouded this evening as well, promising snow on the outer borders.

With his shadow trailing close behind, Legolas quick-stepped back to the palace, trying not to show to the one who followed him just how anxious he was to return to the warmth and light of his home. At least there, the dark elf did not follow so closely or stare at him so attentively.

Legolas fairly sprang up the marble stairs that led towards the Great Hall and met Kirar descending them. The young prince greeted the lieutenant, smiling slightly. The older elf looked up sharply as though startled then he smiled in genuine delight and, Legolas' eyes narrowed, what looked very much like relief but it was gone before the prince could think to look closer.

"Good-" Kirar, chancing a glance up, caught sight of Legolas' strange shadow and his face whitened. His gaze abruptly returned to Legolas' face and he forced a smile.

"I'm sorry, your Highness, I-I'm rather late to relieve the guard." Legolas nodded but before he had even stopped shaking his head, the older elf had vanished, leaping down the rest of the stairs.

Nonplussed, Legolas quickly ascended, again stopping short as a woman, tall and imposing as well as startlingly beautiful accosted him. With a start, Legolas recognized her as Nárvenien's mother who he had seen in his father's study a few days ago. But the expression on her face was not welcoming and distinctly cold though her lips held a smile.

Legolas squirmed uncomfortably as the woman stared down at him as though he were the refuse of an orc. Eraeriel's sharp eyes snapped to the one who followed him and she tossed her head imperiously.

"Wait elsewhere," she commanded. To Legolas' surprise, the dark elf did as he was told and slid away into the shadows. Legolas licked dry lips and looked back at the tall woman.

"Mae govannen, hiril-nin. (Well met, my lady). What would you with me?" he inquired, inclining his head respectfully. Her cold lips lifted in a small smile.

"Your father wishes to see you, young one, not I." Without another word to him, she swept past him and down the stairs. Legolas blinked, puzzled, then quickly glanced around for his ever-present shadow and sighed silently in relief when he did not see him.


Legolas sighed as he glanced around the fest hall. He did not know what his father had wanted with him because he had not gone at his summons- even when Serkë had come to collect him. He didn't want to face his father and another rebuke- or worse yet another 'session' with his uncle if he found out what the prince had asked yesterday. Legolas stiffened at that prospect. What if Ainan discovered he had been in that room?

To distract himself, Legolas stared around at the hall for what felt like the millionth time that night. Most of those in attendance were of the nobility and lived in or near the palace. Legolas caught sight of Nárvenien sitting serenely beside her mother.

It was an unusually quiet affair and an undercurrent of unease chilled the merriment and muffled the laughter of the room.

Telas' usual chair beside the king stood empty.

The advisor had been missing for two days now and not even a servant had seen him. The young prince could see Serkë, Telas' son, talking with several other elves but his face wore a distant, troubled expression.

Legolas glanced around the table and the dancing floor. Some of Mirkwood's most prestigious minstrels played in one corner, the sweet music of harp and lute filling the air like the laughter of a stream or the soft sound of rain on the leaves. But, the prince listened not to the music.

His blue gaze drifted to the usual four places occupied by the Lothlórien elves, filled only by three this night. A frown darkened his brow as he recalled his uncle's words to him earlier.

Your deadliest enemies are most often those in the guise of a friend…

Legolas could not fathom this to be true- Haldir could not be evil. The elf had been so kind to him. His companions too had been nothing but respectful to him. But perhaps that was what they wanted him to think. Legolas shook his head. It was all so very confusing, he didn't know what to do now.

Why would Haldir save his life in the woods then if he was as cruel as his uncle obviously thought he was? Well, perhaps it would expose his plans to the King if his son were to die… These thoughts gave Legolas a headache and he shook his head, slowly rubbing his temples as he tried not to think about it anymore.

To clear his head of such troublesome thoughts, he turned and walked out onto the balcony, breathing deeply of the fresh night air. A crisp wind, heavy with the promise of snow, swirled round him.

"Van aduial, Legolas (Good evening, Legolas)."

The young prince started and whirled swiftly, relaxing as his keen eyes made out the reclining form of Haldir sitting upon a cushioned chaise with a tome resting in his lap.

"How do you fare?" The prince inquired, eyeing with some concern the bandage that could be glimpsed beneath the older elf's open collar. Haldir smiled at the young one's concern.

"It is much better though I cannot say much for the healer's draughts." He made a bitter face that made Legolas smile. "Vile stuff." The smile faded from the young prince's face soon however and he hung his head as he voiced something that had been bothering him ever since the fight with the wolves three days ago.

"I-I wanted to say I'm sorry," he said quietly. Haldir sat up a little straighter and set aside his book.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," the prince repeated. Haldir frowned.

"What for?" Legolas shrugged helplessly.

"If not for me, you would not have been hurt." Haldir's stern features relaxed slightly and he smiled, flexing his injured shoulder unflinchingly.

"'Tis already healing, Legolas. It was nothing for you to worry yourself over," he smiled. The older elf cocked his head slightly. "It wasn't your fault," he guessed shrewdly. Legolas shot a quick look up at him.

"I-" But Haldir held up a hand to forestall him.

"I encouraged you to go on that ride and I am the one responsible. I have paid for it," he added dryly. "The fault is mine, Legolas- please-"

"Well, how does the injured warrior?" a dry voice interjected. The two elves both glanced up to see Cálivien smiling at them. On his arm was an enchantingly beautiful and stately woman with a river of chocolate hair. She smiled down at Haldir and offered an inclination of her head while he stood and bowed graciously.

"Well indeed," Haldir answered. "And much better for having seen such loveliness," he murmured, laying a kiss on the white hand the woman extended to him. Cálivien grinned and pressed the woman closer to him. She smiled and batted him away good-naturedly before bidding Haldir a good night and slipping back into the warmer halls with a meaningful glance at her charmer.

"And you doubted me," Cálivien laughed before disappearing after the raven-haired beauty. Haldir shook his head with a smile.

Legolas had kept his eyes studiously elsewhere, shifting uncomfortably.

"There you are!" a voice exclaimed. Legolas turned with a relieved smile as Rinniad joined him on the balcony. "I have been searching for you." The younger elf nodded a gracious greeting to Haldir when he noticed him which the older elf returned with an incline of his head.

Legolas followed after his friend after bidding Haldir a fair evening. They met Lóthmir near the entrance. The prince noticed that his friend looked… unsettled. Legolas frowned and touched the elf's arm.

"What's the matter, mellon-nin?" he asked. Lóthmir looked up, startled out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked blankly. Rinniad now turned to regard him too.

"Is there something troubling you?" The cornered elf shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Come off it, Lóthmir," Rinniad scoffed. "You look lower than a skewered orc. What's going on?" Legolas felt a sudden chill that he couldn't quite explain as Lóthmir glanced up at him.

"I-I'm just worried about my father. He's…been gone from home a lot lately." Rinniad and Legolas exchanged a glance.

"Your mother wouldn't permit him to go on long patrols anymore. She was angry enough last time he went out on the borders for a week-" Lóthmir shook his head.

"It's not like that."

"Oh."

"What is it like then?" Legolas asked gently. The taller elf waved it away carelessly.

"I don't want to talk about it right now, all right? Come on, let's find something fun to do- what color do you wager we can turn your father's sword tonight, Rinniad?" Rinniad's face broke into a huge smile.

"You know I think he almost liked that bright orange we turned it last time."

The young elves laughed as they dashed quickly out of the feast hall. None of them noticed the two elves standing in the shadows, speaking in low tones.

"This is madness, Kirar!" Tirien hissed. "How can you follow him?" The lieutenant's eyes flickered with conviction.

"He is more powerful than you know, Tirien. He will bring Mirkwood back to what it used to be- you remember its former glory, do you not?"

"I should never have let you talk me into this."

"It is for the good of the kingdom," Kirar insisted stubbornly.

"High treason?" Tirien rejoined, his eyes wide. "That is what you are suggesting. Civil war! That is for the good of the kingdom?"

"Speak softly, my friend," Kirar warned, his voice suddenly cool. "Revealing things best kept in the dark could be dangerous for your health- or your family's."

Tirien's head shot up.

"Are you threatening me?" Kirar did not move nor flinch.

"I do not threaten. I am your friend and I am only warning you of the dangers of saying too much." The captain of the guard's brow furrowed but before he could say aught else the elven lieutenant had vanished.


The tightly spiraling passageway was scarcely lit with sputtering torches that blackened the wall behind them and filled the air with a smoke that disappeared into the lightlessness above his head. Legolas widened his eyes against the deepening darkness around him for the passage was dim and lit only by the few sputtering torches ensconced upon the staircase.

Legolas felt his way down the stairs, carefully putting one foot before the other in the black places where the inconstant light did not reach. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and the prince glanced over his shoulder again. His shadow had returned, doggedly hounding his footsteps and watching every move he made.

And yet, he remained invisible.

To Legolas' keen eyes, it seemed the shadows loomed a little too large at times or the silence too pervasive. Shivering with more than the damp chill, the young elf bounded down the last of the stairs, leaping over a small puddle on the stone floor. Far off to the right, Legolas caught a glimpse and heard the rushing echo of the underground stream as it ran through the canal cut in the stone to join the forest river under the sky.

It was damp and dark down here. These were the cellars beneath the very bowels of the palace. The light and laughter of the festivities above had long ago retreated into the silence of the stone.

After Rinniad's father had caught them in their mischief and sent Rinniad off to bed, Legolas and Lóthmir had not lingered long lest their own fathers be alerted to their absence from the feast hall. And yet, both young elves had quickly tired of the dull talk of the adults and the endless, mindless chatter. Lóthmir had eventually bid the prince a good night and went to seek his rest.

Then Legolas had remembered that he was due in the cellars for his punishment and hastened down the stairs after being excused by his father. Thranduil still felt his son needed to learn responsibility and all works of palace life. This was to be his study and his punishment for Valar knew how long. In his own mind, Legolas felt that he had been punished quite enough.

But the darkness, turned his thoughts again and he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally caught sight of the other workers who sang as they lifted and rolled the barrels into the river or enjoyed some of the produce that they had to send up to the halls.

Galion, the head butler, walked up him, swaying slightly under the excess of the Dorwinion that had been poled upriver for just such an occasion as tonight.

"You're late, young prince!" Galion admonished him. "I expected you to help me an hour earlier today to help me with these barrels that need taking up to the halls."

"Sorry, Galion," Legolas apologized swiftly. "I lost track of time."

The butler harrumphed but his face broke into a small smile and he shook his head.

"Honestly, Legolas, if you get into any more trouble you'll end up taking over my job," he laughed as his fellows called him back to their revelry. The prince rolled his eyes and hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The fool butler spends more of his time consuming the wine rather than actually unloading it, Legolas thought mutinously several long hours later as he tapped a hole into the barrel to release the wine. It was only then that he realized that he had not shoved the spout into it and the ruby colored liquid splashed over his face and clothes to puddle around his feet like blood.

Biting back a curse, he fumbled for the cork and knocked the bung solidly into the barrel. His fingers were stiff with cold from being down in the cellars which were notoriously damp for so long. It must be past dinnertime at least, Legolas thought as he straightened his aching back and rolled the full barrel towards the others that were to be sent to the King's table for the evening meal. It seemed the festivities were still in full swing upstairs and the merriment down here had grown as more and more of the elves shirked their duties in favor of the fine warm wines sent to them by the men of the Long Lake.

The dark-haired elf had insinuated himself against the damp stone with his arms crossed. Legolas felt those eyes boring into his back as he worked and shivered uncomfortably.

"What a good little soldier you are," the elf spat with sarcasm sharper than a razor blade. Legolas felt a chill run up his spine as he turned to find the stranger not a foot from him. It was the first time Legolas had ever heard him speak in a tone as smooth and dark as the shadows that environed them.

He had not even heard him approach.

The prince uneasily sidestepped the elf and rolled the empty barrel to the storage room where two great oaken trapdoors opened to the watercourse, listening as it dropped with a splash into the iciness below. Legolas could see the small, white ice shapes far below that glimmered briefly in the lantern light before sweeping out of sight into the dark caverns.

Legolas shivered.

"I know it was you," that dark voice hissed, startling the prince who leapt away from those gleaming eyes that fixed on his from out of the darkness.

"Only one so young could reek of such fear."

Legolas retreated a step, careful to skirt the dangerous edge of the hole in the floor that led to quite a drop into the frigid water below.

"That is your only way out," the dark elf said softly, his near-black gaze flicking from the prince to fix on the icy hole. Legolas felt a surge of terror and confusion at the elf's words.

The dark elf slid sinuously forward and took an end of the barrel as though to help the prince with it when Galion glanced over. The empty barrel tumbled into the black hole and landed with a distant splash far below.

For a moment, the prince stood entranced, staring down into the darkness. He could imagine himself falling, falling deep into the water, feel its cold embrace as he was swept away downriver under the stone. He would drown before he reached the open sky, he knew. Horror consumed him and Legolas leapt away, staring in abject terror at the dark-haired elf who stood staring calmly at him.

Swifter than a viper's strike, Tindómëtir lunged forward and gripped the prince's chin in a thin, white hand, wrenching the younger elf's eyes up to his. Legolas trembled with fear: of the menacing form above him and the icy water he could hear rushing far below him.

Tindómëtir frowned down into his face, his eyes registering surprise an instant before it vanished.

"You are not yet broken," he hissed softly. Those words sent a shiver down Legolas' spine. With a sudden burst of strength he didn't know he had, Legolas twisted free of the dark elf's grasp and ran out the door: past the barrels that still needed to be loaded, past Galion and his merry-making friends. His heart leapt into his throat as he leapt up the stairs two at a time. His legs burned but he did not stop running until he had left the cellars and their terrifying occupant far behind.


The merriment had long since ended by midnight. Legolas laid his hand on the stone sill of the balcony he stood upon and sighed, staring up at the cloudy firmament. He was weary but he could not sleep; his arms and fingers ached from hours spent in the cold cellars. But that was not what caused his sleeplessness.

Your only way out…

Legolas shivered and looked away from the shadowed sky and frowned slightly, narrowing his eyes against the darkness. The stars gleamed overhead and the prince breathed a sigh as he realized that this might have been his last night here. Though he hated the position he had been placed in, hated the beatings and punishments of his father and uncle, he valued life far more. A slight flash of auburn caught his eye, down under the lanterns leading over the bridge.

Nárvenien? What could she be doing out so late when everyone else was inside, abed?

For the longest time afterwards, Legolas could never figure out what made him walk down the Great Hall stairs and down towards the bridge. There was no reason for it, he knew but something drew him forward. Certainly he had no interest in the woman if he could help it- she took every opportunity to make his life miserable. And yet, she knew something… she had hinted at as much when she had last spoken to him though he had not seen her since their fight weeks ago.

She spotted him before he could speak and Legolas felt an awkward twinge as he realized she was crying. Silvery tears rolled freely down her cheeks.

"I wish you were dead," she snarled, dashing her tears from her cheeks. "It's all your fault!" She screamed and swiped at him. The prince dodged and leapt back a step, his face suffused with puzzlement and confusion, already regretting his decision to come here.

"What is?" he asked. She came on like an inferno, her fists clenched at her side.

"You foul little pestilence! You know what you did."

Startled by the attack, he seized her wrists and clung tightly to keep her from gouging his eyes out with her fingernails.

"Let me go!" she spat, struggling against him. He abruptly released her and danced back several paces.

Suddenly, terribly calm, she pulled back, her eyes glittering malevolently and her fiery hair whirling around her white face in the biting wind.

"You have nothing to live for anyway. I know what he does to you… you can't hide it from me." Legolas felt as though in iron band were squeezing his skull What was she…?

"What are you saying?" he asked, more harshly than he had intended. She threw her head back and laughed bitterly, a strange gleam in her eyes.

"You wait! Something's going to happen. Something terrible. You're drowning, little prince and I don't think you'll swim to shore."

Legolas could not stand to listen to anymore and he immediately turned around, racing back towards the palace, his heart thumping loudly in his ears.


A small, irritated sound of disgust left the servant's throat as she examined the wine stain a careless guest's goblet had spattered on one of the two thousand year old tapestries adorning the wall. Sighing audibly, she eased it from its pegs and allowed the heavy cloth to flop onto the floor.

Her terrified scream of horror cut the night like a knife.