Círhael stared at his brother-in-law in silence, shocked at the sudden revelation. He shook his fair head slowly, and said softly, "You…you killed… No, you didn't. I saw her wounds; they were caused by the weapons of the Orcs, you… I don't understand."

"I wish that I could say otherwise, but I will lie no more," Thranduil replied quietly. "I killed her."

"Stop it!" Círhael hissed. "What you are saying is folly, and I do not wish to hear it."

With a sigh the King shook his head, and sat down on the sofa. "But you do. Have you forgotten our conversation on the day of Ithilwen's burial? You asked me to speak of my troubles. I would have done, had we not been interrupted by Legolas. You have known for days that I am keeping something from you. Surely you wish to be put out of your misery."

"Tell me what you will," Círhael replied, his voice softer now.

"On the day that we were in the forest, we were alone. We wanted to spend time in each other's company without being watched and heavily guarded, so we – foolishly – refused to take an escort," Thranduil began slowly. "As Ithilwen spoke, I paid little attention. I could sense that not all was well. Danger was close. Orcs. I knew that flight would not save us – we were too far from the palace."

"You should not have been alone," Círhael muttered.

"But we were. We sought shelter in separate trees so that our scents would be divided. Nature was on our side. Then the Orcs came into the clearing," Thranduil sighed. "As they did, I noticed that the sash of Ithilwen's dress had not been pulled into hiding. Valar, no-one could have missed it. The Orcs…"

"Go on…"

The Elven-king leaned forwards, and rested his head in his hands. "They pulled her from the tree, and threw her around the group. She tried to fight. One of them struck her with a sword hilt. There was blood…so much blood from just one wound."

Elrond touched a hand to Círhael's shoulder, and nodded towards the sofa. "Sit down. You are pale."

"I am fine," the Sinda murmured. "Fine…"

"They beat her, and damn it, I did nothing!" Thranduil snapped, tangling his hands in his own hair. "I wanted to but I was frozen, held still by fear and horror. I had no weapons - a beech had concealed them from sight of the Orcs. I…I watched as they pulled and pushed her; and it was only when they began to rip at her dress that I moved. I knew what their intentions were. So, I jumped."

Flashback

"Thranduil!"

Even before the cry left his wife's bloodied lips, the King had leapt from the tree, unsure of what to do but adamant that he would stop the torture. His feet touched the ground without a noise, but still the Orcs saw him. He was pounced on from all sides, grabbed by dirty black hands and forced to his knees. With a yell of rage, he threw his fists into as many jeering faces as he could. But he was only one Elf. It mattered not that he was a warrior to be feared, for he was overpowered, helpless as his arms were pinned behind his back.

"It's another of the pretty ones," an Orc shouted. "What shall we do with it? Keep it for sport?"

One of the larger creatures shook his head violently, and grinned. "Not just that one. Both of them! We will make the fair ones scream!"

Thranduil ground his teeth together as fear flashed across his wife's face. "They will not," he said softly. "We will escape this."

"Shut up!" an Orc yelled. "You both belong to us now."

"Help me," Ithilwen whispered, as black hands crept over her body. "Thranduil, do something, just stop them…"

The Elven-king tossed his head violently, struggling to escape from the powerful grip that he was held in. He had to save his wife, she was all that mattered. He did not wish for death, but for her life, he would welcome it. As he fought, a whip whose cruel lashes were studded with jagged spikes was snapped across his chest. His eyes flashed not in pain, but anger; and he glared at the Orc who had attacked him.

"Let her go," he said in a low voice. "Release her."

"Silence!"

Thranduil glanced at his wife, and his expression softened somewhat as he saw the tears staining her cheeks. "Be brave," he said softly. "Show them no fear, because they will play off it."

The Queen closed her eyes and shook her head slowly – it was an act of defeat. There was no hope for either of them. They were alone, and before long, both would be dead, slaughtered at the hands of Orcs. Their young son would be orphaned. Would he fade without his parents? Would Círhael have enough strength both to rule Mirkwood and care for Legolas with the loss of his sister and brother-in-law?

"I love you, Thranduil," Ithilwen whispered. "I love you so much, I…"

At that the Orcs broke into laughter, but it went unheeded by the Elven-king. He gazed at his wife, and shook his head. "Why do you say goodbye? This is not the end for either of us. These creatures will not win."

The Orc who had previously wielded the studded whip, snapped out a dagger and slashed it across Thranduil's cheek, leaving a jagged and bloody tear in the fair skin. "You are too defiant and arrogant for your own good. The she-elf will pay for your insolence. Then you will see that victory is not yours."

"No!"

"Thranduil!"

But their cries went unheeded. The blade of a scimitar was pushed into the Elven-queen's breast, right up to its thick hilt. Ithilwen's scream fell dead on her lips, and as fresh blood flowered on her ripped dress, a mist drifted into her eyes, and she fell forwards onto her hands. She looked up at her husband through glittering lashes, and silently mouthed the words: I love you.

For the first time in years, tears gathered in Thranduil's eyes to fall like rain. They cascaded over the knife wound on the side of his face, mixing with the blood, their salty tang stinging. But he did not even feel it as he whispered back: "And I love you."

Ithilwen fell. The Orcs laughed and shouted, and one of them grabbed Thranduil's hair, making sure that he did not look away. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. His eyes were fixed on his wife's dull, un-moving pools that had once been so bright, and as his world came crashing down around him, he knew that that image would haunt him for the rest of his life.

End Flashback

As silence fell, Círhael let out a deep breath and passed a hand over his eyes, brushing away the unshed tears that had gathered during the tale. He was stunned, lost for words, shocked by the first hand account of his beloved sister's death. What could he say? He didn't know. What could he think? He didn't know. For once in his life, he was powerless to make sense of what was happening.

"I am sorry – sorry that you had to hear that, sorry for the pain that I have caused, and sorry for Ithilwen," Thranduil said quietly. "But now you know."

Círhael looked down at his brother-in-law, and shook his head slowly. "Just…just be silent, I need a moment to…"

The Elven-king looked away, and closed his eyes. 'He blames you,' he thought bitterly. 'But then, why should he not? He has every right to; I will not deny him that. After all, I-

"Forgive me," Círhael said suddenly. "I did not mean to sound so…so…"

"I understand," Thranduil answered.

Sighing, the Elf-lord sat beside his brother-in-law, and gently touched his shoulder. "You are right – I do know now. But I also know that my sister was taken by the foulest living creatures. I know that armed warriors can be slaughtered by Orcs, and that two weaponless Elves on their own are helpless. I know that you tried to save her. And I know that there was nothing you could do."

"Yes, I tried to save her, but I failed," Thranduil murmured. "I did not protect her, I failed her."

"You protected her as best you could at the time, and I am grateful for that. She lost her life in a cruel way, but it is some comfort to know that she was not alone," Círhael replied. "You did not save her, but nor did you fail her. You could never fail her."

"I would have died for her," Thranduil said quietly.

"You do not need to tell me that. I know you would, but what would it have done?" the elder Elf countered gently. "Your death would have been in vain, because I do not believe for one moment that they would have kept her alive. Sacrificing your life would have achieved nothing."

"After she died, our soldiers came pouring through the trees. They destroyed all of the Orcs, but Ithilwen, she was already…" Thranduil looked up, and smiled sadly. "It was only seconds after her death that help came. Only seconds…"

Círhael was silent, and he fiddled absently with the sleeve of his robes for a few moments, before raising his eyes to look at his brother-in-law again. "But all that you have told us about Ithilwen's death, it does not explain your guilt. Do you feel that just because you could not save her?"

"No. The Orc who took her life, I told you what he said," Thranduil answered. "He said, 'you aretoo defiant and arrogant for your own good. The she-elf will pay for your insolence'. And she did. She paid."

"But they are only words," Círhael said uneasily. "They mean nothing. You should not take them to heart."

"I did," Thranduil answered. He paused, and shrugged lightly. "But maybe you are right."

"What's done is done," Elrond said. "The past cannot change. Do not think about what might have been. Think only about what is."

Círhael was silent for a moment, but then he reached out and rested a hand on his brother-in-law's shoulder. "Why now? Had you told me this sooner, you would have been spared from carrying such a heavy burden."

"Pride," Thranduil replied with a soft laugh. "You said it yourself only a few days back. I was scornful, but deep inside of myself I knew that you spoke the truth."

"If I had known why you…what was causing your…" Unable to find the right words, Círhael's voice faded into silence; with a weak smile, he began again. "If I had known this before, I would not have been the way I was. I would have understood. Forgive me."

"It is not necessary," Thranduil answered. "But tell me, are you well after listening to my account of your sister's death? I know it cannot have been easy to hear."

"I am well enough. I knew – although I did not want to believe or accept – that Ithilwen would have suffered at the hands of the Orcs. You only confirmed that for me," Círhael replied. He paused and smiled again, though this time it did not appear strained. "You were correct in saying that I wanted to know. And now I do. However, I do not think that we should continue to remember her this way. I for one do not wish to. We both have fairer memories of her."

Elrond sat opposite the two Sindar Elves, and fixed them both with a questioning gaze. "What now? Will you tell Legolas of this? Thranduil, do you want to… No, do you feel ready to see him? Or do you wish for more time apart? And if so, will it help?"

"I want to see him, of course I do," the King replied quickly. "But do I feel ready? I do not know. I want to be. But what if I…what if I do see him, and nothing changes? What if I continue to say words that I do not mean? I am afraid that I will not be able to make amends, and-

"Why Legolas?" Círhael asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"I think that what your brother-in-law meant was that you can be yourself – as much as these circumstances allow – around all but your son," Elrond explained. "Why do you find his company so difficult to bear? Why does he anger you when others do not?"

Thranduil looked away, and shook his head slowly. "It never used to be this way. You both know that."

"Yes. But we do not know the reasons behind your current feelings for Legolas," Círhael replied. "If we do not-

"You cannot help me," the King finished. "But the truth is that I cannot tell you anything, because I just…how can I tell you when I do not know myself? There are many thoughts in my mind, and I do not understand them, I cannot make sense of them. I am sorry."

"As am I," Círhael murmured.

"You need not sound so disappointed," Thranduil snapped, his eyes flashing as he rose from the sofa. "This is not easy, it was never going to be. I hate this as much as you do, probably even more, but things are not going to change this quickly. What do you want me to do? Shall I tell untruths just so that you and Elrond are able to attribute them to why this family has been suffering?"

"I have not asked you to do that," the elder Elf countered, rising also so that he was at eye level with his brother-in-law. "Do not assume that I do not understand this, because I do. I know this is difficult, I know it hurts, and-

"If you know so much, then why do you need me to give you answers?" Thranduil spat.

Watching the two younger Elves, Elrond shook his head in irritation. "Have I not already told you both to control your tempers?" he said sternly. "We seem to be going in circles, and it is always anger that stops us from moving elsewhere. I cannot forbid or prevent either of you from becoming angry – although I wish I could – but I can ask you to try and avoid it."

"And if that is easier said than done?" Círhael ground out.

"And if I tell you to think of how this is helping Legolas?" Elrond retorted.

As the argument turned away from him, Thranduil snatched up his cloak and flung it around his shoulders, before spinning on his heel and storming over to the door. He felt a strong hand on his arm, but he pushed it away forcefully. "Don't, Círhael," he snapped. "Leave me."

"Where are you going?" Elrond asked, ending the question with a deep sigh.

The Elven-king pushed open the door, and without glancing back at the elder two, he replied: "I cannot stay here. I just want…need to be alone."

"He is not walking away from this," Círhael hissed. "I will not let him."

"What power do you hold over him? You cannot stop him," Elrond replied quickly, grabbing his friend's arm to hold him back.

"What power? I have Legolas. I have his son," the Sinda replied. "And I know – even though it cannot be seen – that he loves that child. If we let him walk away, we will not get him back."

Elrond closed his eyes briefly, before following Círhael from the King's private rooms out into the corridor. "Then, what are you going to-

Both Elves stopped dead as a sudden cry pierced the air. It came from behind one of the doors a little way ahead of them, and as childish sobs reached their ears, they realised simultaneously that it could only be one person: Legolas. As they rushed forwards to the Prince's room, Thranduil, drawn by his son's cries, came back around the corner, though neither of them saw him. He leaned against the wall, and watched through fearful eyes as his brother-in-law burst in to Legolas' aid.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Heart pounding with a fear that is natural, especially after already losing a loved one, Círhael ran into Legolas' room, eyes darting wildly as they sought him. And there he was. Sitting in the middle of the floor, body trembling and tears streaming down pale cheeks, there was the young Prince. Arrows lay beside him, and his left hand, which was stained red, he held close to his chest.

"By the Valar!" Círhael exclaimed, not even noticing as Elrond rushed from the room to get medicine. "Legolas, what did you do?"

The Prince shook his head, the action releasing more tears. "It hurts," he choked out. "Uncle, it hurts, and I…I'm bleeding! It hurts, it…"

"Hush, hush," Círhael soothed, kneeling next to the boy and gently taking the bloody hand in his own. "Tell me how this happened, tithen-las."

"I was playing with arrows," Legolas whispered. "I pricked myself, and then the blood came."

Círhael frowned as he carried his nephew over to sit on the edge of the bed. "You did more than prick yourself. I have seen countless wounds over the years, and I know that this was no accident. You…Valar!"

"Don't be mad," Legolas whispered, as realisation dawned on his uncle's face.

"Tell me you didn't," Círhael replied, his voice shaking with a fear that could not be concealed. "Please, tell me…"

The Prince suddenly flung himself forwards, and buried his face deep into the elder Elf's robes. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I thought that…please don't shout at me again. I didn't want to, but I…I thought it might…"

"I will not shout at you," Círhael whispered, his own eyes pooled with tears. "Just tell me why. Will you tell me that, pen-neth?"

"Ada would never ignore me if I was hurt," Legolas cried. "If he saw me bleeding, he would look after me and make me better. I did it for him, so that he would hold me and love me again."

Círhael opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again as his brother-in-law appeared in the doorway. As he looked across into the sad blue eyes, he could see the inner battle that the King was fighting with his own feelings, he could see how hard Thranduil was trying to push away the guilt and frustration that not being able to do his duty as a father brought about. And although he wanted to be angry at what the younger Elf had inadvertently done to Legolas, Círhael found that now he knew the truth, he could not. All he felt was pity.

Thranduil went forwards tentatively to the bed, holding his breath as he gazed upon the turned back of his son. Five days…five days since he had last lain eyes on him, and yet it felt like so much more time had flown past. Without speaking, he sat next to Círhael, and waited. For what? For Legolas to notice his presence? For the right words to form in his mind? He did not know.

"I'm sorry," the Prince murmured, raising his head slowly from his uncle's chest. "I didn't mean… Ada!"

"Legolas," Thranduil said quietly. "You…you are hurt, I…"

"Lord Elrond will be here in a minute with some medicine for you," Círhael said softly to his nephew. "For now, why not go to your father? He has been anxious to see you, I believe."

As his child was passed gently into his arms, Thranduil drew in a sharp breath and held it, trying to calm his tumultuous feelings – and there were many of those. But what he felt more than anything was fear. Small hands tangled themselves in the material of his tunic, and he was vaguely reminded of the first time that he had held his baby son, of the fear and doubt that he had felt back then. He had been so unsure of what to do with the infant Prince, afraid that he would do something wrong – the fact that he felt the same now, years on, was unnerving, and he pushed it from his mind.

With a sad smile, Círhael leaned across and took his brother-in-law's hand, guiding it so that it rested gently on Legolas' golden head. The King looked up and held the elder Elf's gaze for a moment, before turning his face into his son's shoulder. He closed his eyes as he felt them starting to blur, but the tears still fell from under his lashes. He made no attempt to stop them.

"I knew you would come back," Legolas murmured. "I knew that you still loved me, Ada."

Thranduil glanced up at Círhael, and after a reassuring nod from him, he whispered to the child: "I did not stop. I never could."

"Please don't go away again. You were still in the palace, but I missed you," the Prince said quietly. "If you went away again, I…"

"What is it?" Círhael asked softly.

"Ada is wearing a cloak. Why is he…?" Legolas looked into his father's eyes, tears falling silently from his own. "Why are you wearing a cloak? You didn't come here to say goodbye, did you? Don't leave, Ada. Don't."

"I am staying here," Thranduil said quietly. "I am not going anywhere."

As Elrond re-entered the room and started to examine Legolas' hand, Círhael smiled briefly. For two long weeks they had all struggled to find the strength to guide themselves through this terrible time; and everyone had suffered, no-one more so than the King and his son. But this scene before him of father and child was a beautiful one, a special one. It told him that finally his family would start to move away from their dark past.

But Círhael was wrong – there was much more to come.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

MCross: Um…no, you're not wrong. Something big is going to happen, and it's not going to be good. How evil of me! Hope you're feeling ok!

Flamesofthemo0n: Well, luckily I've dropped media now, so I never have to worry about it again!

Lombadia Greenleaf: Yeah, Star Wars Episode Three has come out in Britain, but I haven't yet seen it. I haven't seen the other films yet, so I'd probably have to watch those before watching this one.

Legolas-gurl88: You know, we haven't mentioned spiders for ages! I think that's a good thing, though!

Wolenczak2004: Hope the wait wasn't too long for you…

The Dancing Cavalier: Thanks for your compliment!

Aranel of Mirkwood: Hehe, cruel endings are fun!

Brazgirl: Maybe, but I think that Thranduil was more concerned over the fact that Círhael had just accused him of destroying Legolas' life than anything else. Hope the wait wasn't too long!

Jedigollum: Thanks. The bad news isn't looking so bad at the moment, but it could go either way. Yeah, being ignored isn't very nice, poor Legolas.

Rutu: Actually, the twins haven't made an appearance for a while, have they? I think they come up in the next chapter, though. In fact yeah, I'm pretty sure of it.

Kelsey Estel: Yeah, Britain is quite often behind when it comes to television. We normally get the first season when other countries are already on season three or something like that.

Haldir's Heart and Soul: There's your answer!

Kel: Hehe, horrible councillor!

Lilan: Yeah, I think that if Legolas was older, people might take him more seriously, but because he's only little, they tend to take him for granted. Poor Elfling!

Elf771: Hehe, choppy sentences are fun. Choppy. Isn't that a funny word!

Utsuri: Well, he could've taken it a lot worse.

Barbara Kennedy: I'm sorryabout your bad news, and hope you and your family are ok.

Elven Kitten: Cool, I'll add that to my tally!

I have to apologise for the time it took me to get this chapter up. Last week I got some bad news about my grandmother – she's very ill, and it's very hard for me at the moment, because I'm the one who has to be strong for everyone, so I'm trying to deal with things in the best way I can. I also spent the weekend in London, and to top it off, I've not been feeling very well myself. But the chapter is up now! I can't guarantee that the next one will be up in the next week, but I'll try my best for you all.

Misto

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