AN: I know in some review responses I said Belegdur wouldn't have much of anything else to do with this story, but...well...I was wrong. He crept back into the story when I wasn't looking to provide angst and emotional conflict. Don't worry, I've had my revenge in a new story...tee-hee.

What do you know? I'm actually on time for once!

Chapter Five: Victory and Defeat

"I told you he'd surprise us today," Elladan said with a smirk in his twin's direction. "It's only the fourth round and he's already taken the lead...how could you have doubted my prediction, Elrohir?"

Elrohir snorted, stretching up on his toes in an attempt to see the prince through the crowd of archers that had suddenly appeared to congratulate him. "You're right, I'm sorry," he said in a tone that was anything but contrite. "I will never doubt your 'feelings' again, Elladan."

"Should we rescue him?" the older twin asked after a moment.

Estel bit back a grin. Legolas was currently facing a group of about six archers who were all talking simultaneously, and he had a polite-yet-bewildered expression on his face as he tried to focus on all six.

"Aye," Elrohir said with a chuckle. "Estel, stay here. If we don't return in ten minutes call for help."

The human laughed quietly as his brothers shouldered their way into the midst of the archers and threw their arms across Legolas' shoulders, one on each side of him. Estel watched as the twins smoothly took over and monopolized the conversation, going back and forth as they often did unconsciously, this time with the added bonus of confusing the other archers. Elladan and Elrohir gradually guided Legolas away from the other elves, pushing through the crowd until they reached the edge where Estel was waiting.

"Now, sit right here," Elrohir ordered, pushing the prince down to sit in between Estel and the edge of the log.

Legolas looked up at the twins who were standing in front of him. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"We're your bodyguards," Elladan explained stoically.

"That's right," Elrohir added. "The archery champion of Mirkwood needs his space while he waits for the next round to commence."

The prince's eyes widened in disbelief; then he dropped his head, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "My bodyguards?" he asked as soon as he regained his composure. "And what are you guarding me from?"

"The crushing throng," Elrohir replied, deadpan. "We wouldn't want to see you crushed..."

"...or thronged..." Elladan interjected.

"...before you have a chance to finish the tournament."

Legolas looked up at Elladan curiously. "'Thronged'? What have you been reading?"

Elladan raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you mocking me?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Legolas replied innocently.

Estel chuckled and shook his head. "How long until the next round he asked?"

Legolas suddenly grew solemn. "About ten minutes."

"Ai," Elrohir sat heavily on the ground. "I think I'll be glad when this tournament's over."

The prince nodded in agreement. "I don't think I've eaten anything for two days," he added.

"And you can't exactly afford to lose any weight," Elladan jibed, poking Legolas in the side.

With a snort, the prince swatted the older twin's hand away. "I don't remember the tournament being this nerve-wracking last time," he commented.

"You weren't participating," Elrohir explained. "That always makes it worse."

"Or watching your brother or one of your best friends," Elladan interjected.

"Don't forget waiting to see if you pass to the next round."

"And having to tie-break to see if you'll be eliminated."

Legolas groaned and dropped his head to his hands. "Can we talk about something else?" he asked.

Elrohir smiled at the nervous young elf. "I hear you're going to give Estel archery lessons tomorrow."

The prince shrugged. "Just some pointers. See if I can't undo the damage your instructors have undoubtedly done."

"Hey!" Elladan protested. "What's wrong with our instructors?"

"They're not wood-elves," Legolas replied simply.

Elladan's mouth opened to reply, but before he could say anything Elrohir had jumped up and clamped a hand over his brother's mouth. "Let's not get into that now," he said calmly, smiling at the mock-fury in his twin's eye. "Play nice with the prince, 'Dan."

The older twin jerked away with a grimace. "Your hand tastes funny."

"You shouldn't stick your tongue out next time," the younger twin said calmly.

"I wouldn't have if I had known you were going to pull a stunt like that."

"I wouldn't have to pull a stunt like that if you learned to keep your mouth shut."

"I know how to keep my mouth shut."

"Prove it."

Elladan glared at Elrohir, firmly clamping his lips together as though to prove his point.

Estel couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

Legolas shook his head, grinning. "How old are they?" he whispered, leaning over to Estel.

"I'm not sure anymore," Estel whispered back.

"Should we stop them?"

"I don't know if we can."

The twins forgot whatever their miniature feud was about when the judges announced the next round. "Good luck," Elladan called, patting his brother and the prince on the back as they made their way over to the field.

"I don't think they need it," Estel commented.

Elladan grunted. "Just in case," he murmured.

The now-familiar butterflies were making their appearance in Estel's stomach, but he fought to ignore them. He focused on the field, studying the eight archers who stood side by side. Elladan had pointed out Finen of Lorien in the previous round; a tall elf with light blonde, almost white, hair.

"Archers ready!"

He had grown so familiar with the rhythm of the rounds that he unconsciously tensed with the archers as they prepared to fire.

"Fire!"

As he watched the prince Estel was forced to remind himself that Legolas was still technically a novice, barely out of his training, and not a seasoned warrior. Yet it seemed the young prince of Mirkwood was more skilled than the other archers despite his inexperience.

The scores were called out. Legolas had scored another perfect twenty points and was still in the lead, but Elrohir had only manage eighteen and had been disqualified.

Estel was a little disappointed that his brother hadn't made it all the way to the end of the tournament, but he was proud of him anyway. Elrohir had made it farther in the tournament than any other competitors from Imladris, and Estel knew his father would be very pleased with both his sons' achievements in the tournament.

"Now, this is interesting," Elrohir commented as the three brothers gathered together to watch the rest of the tournament. "Tarathdur's been eliminated."

Elladan and Estel looked over to where the warrior was talking to Legolas on the edge of the field. "So?" Estel asked.

"That means Legolas is the last archer of Mirkwood in the tournament."

"Where are the rest of the archers from?"

"Lorien. They seem to have many fine archers there."

Estel stared at the field, where the four remaining archers were returning after a short break. "Do you know the other archers?" he asked his brothers, knowing they had visited Lothlorien many times in the past.

"Not really," Elladan shrugged. "I've only heard of Finen and never met the other two."

"We didn't spend much time with the archers when we visited," Elrohir explained.

The archers on the field took their positions, holding their bows at ready. Estel sighed, beginning to believe that his stomach would forever be tied in knots.

The air had changed, beyond the heightening of the sense of competition among the crowd and the archers. Estel realized that this was because all of Mirkwood was now united behind one archer: Legolas.

The judges called for the archers to fire, and though he almost could have predicted how this round would end Estel still felt his heart jump into his throat. He had gotten over his nerves enough to at least look at the targets at the end of a round, even if he couldn't quite make them out.

The round went as could pretty much be expected by this point. Legolas and Finen both scored twenty points, meaning that Legolas was still ahead by one. And with only one round left, that margin was more important than ever.

"He might actually do it," Elrohir muttered, half in awe and half in disbelief. "Legolas could actually win the tournament."

"It's never been done before," Elladan commented. "Didn't he say that? Didn't he say an archer fresh out of training has never won the tournament?"

"We've seen more impossible things come to pass."

Estel bit his lip, wincing at the coppery taste of blood. He idly wondered how long ago he'd actually chewed his lip raw that he was just now noticing it. "How long until the last round?" he asked, not even realizing his voice had gone up in pitch because of his nerves.

"Ten minutes or so," Elladan explained. "It seemed short enough before, but now..."

"Ten minutes seems like a lifetime," Elrohir agreed.

The human shook his head, frowning as he massaged his stomach. He couldn't decide which were actually nerves and which were hunger pains because he hadn't eaten all day. "Where's Legolas?"

"He's coming," Elrohir nodded to the blonde elf shrugging his way through the other archers. "Though by the time he gets here it'll be time for him to go back on the field."

Elladan laughed. "Legolas!" he half-shouted as the prince finally left the crowd. "Congratulations!"

"Don't be too sure," Legolas said with a serious expression. "Things could change in the last round."

"You haven't missed a shot since round one," Elladan disagreed. "Finen's missed two, I'd say it's more likely he'll miss."

Legolas shrugged. "I don't want to count on it."

"Are you nervous?" Estel asked, not knowing what else to say.

The prince glanced at him. "Nervous? No. I'm terrified."

"It's almost over," Elrohir said reassuringly. "Just think, one more round and we'll know who the champion is, one way or another."

"You'll do fine," Elladan added, seeing that Legolas still looked a little shaky. "You're an excellent archer, Legolas. Trust in your abilities."

The judges called the final two archers to the field. "It's time," Legolas whispered.

With the twins and Estel offering encouraging words, the prince took to the field for the final round of the competition.

It seemed all of Mirkwood was holding its breath as the final shots of the tournament were fired. Legolas and Finen stood side-by-side, the best that Mirkwood and Lorien had to offer now pitted against each other in direct competition. Estel held his breath, again unconsciously biting his lip.

They fired. Four shots straight into the targets.

The judges at the end of the field tallied the scores and called them back.

Finen had scored twenty.

Legolas, however, had scored nineteen.

They were tied.

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"Now what happens?" Estel asked as the buzz from the crowd died down.

"They have to break the tie," Elladan said. "It's just like when two archers get a low score, except that more is at stake here."

"Yeah, this is for the championship," Elrohir nodded.

"They're starting," Elladan pointed. Legolas and Finen had taken a step apart and were aiming for clean targets, each readying an arrow. "They'll shoot one at a time until one misses."

Two arrows flew down the field and landed in the center of their respective targets.

"This could be a while," Elrohir commented with a sigh.

And it was. For nearly an hour the two archers drew and fired, sending their arrows straight home. Estel could tell that they were tired, even exhausted but still the tournament continued. It was only mid-afternoon, and Estel wondered if they would continue the tournament straight through to evening or give the archers a chance to rest.

Even the judges seemed to be barely functioning. They checked each arrow, only shouting whether or not it was good.

The suspense was nearly deadly.

And still the archers drew and fired.

Then, it happened. One of the judges shouted a stop, his voice rising in excitement.

Estel strained to see down the field, but the targets were too far away for him to see. There was a flurry of judges, three or four of them checking the first one's evaluation of one of the last shots.

One of the judges broke off from the group and jogged back to the center of the fields. "My good friends," he called, raising both his arms. "I am pleased to announce that we finally have a winner."

The judge turned to regard the two archers, both standing in nervous anticipation. "The champion of the tournament is..."

Estel crossed his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the announcement.

"Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood!"

The crowd exploded in applause. Estel opened his eyes quickly enough to see Legolas' knees buckle in shock and Finen grab his arm to steady him, apparently offering congratulations at the same time. The judge stepped onto the field and took a dazed prince by the arm and led him up to the dais.

"King Thranduil," the judge said clearly, a smile creeping into his voice. "May I present Legolas Thranduilion, champion of Mirkwood."

The elf-king smiled broadly. "Well done, Legolas," he announced, formally accepting the tournament champion. "Well done indeed."

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"I still can't believe he won!" Elrohir exclaimed for possibly the one hundredth time as the brothers dressed for dinner. They'd separated from Legolas nearly an hour before as the prince had some duties to see to before the night's banquet.

"I think you'd better start believing it," Elladan teased, setting out the two sets of formal robes he'd brought. "Or else we'll convince you that you're not dreaming."

Estel just grinned, tugging on the hem of his sleeve. He didn't remember these robes being this short last time. Maybe it wasn't too noticeable.

There was a light knock on the door, and Legolas stuck his head in. "May I enter?" he asked.

"Of course!" Elrohir gestured broadly. "Welcome, honored guest. You may sit anywhere you like."

Legolas laughed, choosing a spot on one of the beds. "I need to ask something of the three of you," he said, his voice turning serious.

Elladan glanced up, his face creasing with worry. "What is it?"

"There's nothing wrong," the prince said hastily. "It's just...by tradition the winner of the tournament and his family are seated at the king's table for the banquet. I wanted to ask if, since all of my family will already be there, the three of you would like to join us?"

Estel's eyes widened. Were they actually being asked to sit at the high table with the king?

"We'd love to," Elladan replied, glancing at his brothers for conformation.

Legolas smiled broadly. "Great!" he exclaimed.

"Shouldn't you ask your father about this first?" Elrohir asked, pulling out his comb and running it through his hair.

"I already did," the prince said with a grin. "I figured you'd say yes, but he told me to ask anyway."

"Hmm," Elladan grunted. "Legolas, should I wear the maroon or the navy?" he asked, holding up the two sets of robes.

The prince shot the older twin a curious look. "You brought two sets?"

"I never know which one to wear," the dark-haired elf responded with a shrug. "What do you think?"

Legolas frowned in thought. "Is one more comfortable than the other?"

Elladan looked down, a slightly puzzled look on his face. "I guess the maroon one is."

"Then wear the navy."

Estel grinned as Elladan's face took on an even more confused expression. "What?"

"You'll want to save the more comfortable ones for the award ceremony."

"You mean that's not tonight?" Elrohir asked, grabbing Estel by the shoulder and forcing him to sit on the bed. Estel winced as his brother started to comb through the tangles in his hair.

"There are still a few smaller competitions," Legolas explained. "None as big as the archery tournament itself, but rather than holding different award ceremonies we just have one after all the competitions are finished. It's three days from now," he added in reply to the question just forming on Elrohir's lips. "You will still be here, won't you?" he asked, his voice concerned.

"Of course," Elladan snorted as he slipped into his robes. "You don't think we'd leave you here alone for the award ceremony, do you?"

Legolas let out a laugh. "Elladan, there are thirteen members of my family here. That hardly constitutes being alone."

Elladan grimaced. "You know what I mean."

"What my brother is trying to say," Elrohir interjected smoothly with a wink at Estel. "Is that he's proud of you and wouldn't miss seeing you honored as archery champion for all the treasures in your father's palace."

To Estel's surprise, Legolas blushed at the praise and lowered his gaze to the floor. "Thank you," he whispered.

Elladan cleared his throat. "Well, shall we go then?" he asked, pausing in front of the mirror to double-check his appearance.

"You have to go on without me," Legolas replied. "I have to 'make an entrance'," he added, with a wry face.

The twins chuckled. "See you at the banquet, then," Elrohir called, steering Estel through the door.

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The banquet was definitely worse than the tournament, Estel decided after a few moments. Granted, it was a great honor to be seated at the king's table, but that meant that all fourteen members of the royal family—eleven if one didn't count spouses not born into the household—were also there. The table was shaped like a wide 'U', with eleven seats on the long side and three on each of the shorter sides. Estel was right on a corner, with Elrohir on his left and Elladan on the end, and Brithdil, who he recognized from the tournament, around the corner on his right.

Thranduil was seated at the center of the table on the long side. Crown Prince Aranion was on his right, but the seat on his left was empty. Estel glanced curiously around the table, wondering if the empty seat was for Legolas or if someone else was missing.

He shuddered when he caught Belegdur's glare from across the table, where the elf was sitting one seat away from the corner. Couldn't the prince at least be civil, he wondered.

The murmur of the other elves in the banquet hall was suddenly silenced as the Archery Master, who Estel recognized as the head judge from the tournament, suddenly stepped into the room.

"My Lords and Ladies," he announced. "May I present Legolas Thranduilion, champion of Mirkwood."

The Archery Master stepped aside with a bow, and Legolas entered to thunderous applause. He smiled a bit shyly and bowed to the gathered elves before making his way up to the seat of honor at his father's left.

With the prince's entrance the banquet could officially begin, and servants entered the room carrying trays piled high with food.

Estel filled his plate as the servants brought the trays around, digging in with relish as his nervous stomach had finally stilled so he could eat. There was a happy hum of conversation all around him, and though he could not quite keep up with what he could hear he was quite contented just to listen and watch his brothers and Legolas.

That is, until he heard a raised voice.

He frowned, looking down the table to see the source, then swallowed in apprehension. It was Prince Belegdur.

"Not tonight," he heard Elrohir groan.

"Look," Belegdur snapped at his older brother. "I know he won the tournament, and that's all well and good. All I'm saying is that his performance was less than ideal. He missed those two shots, and if he hadn't the tournament would have ended much sooner. Then again, I suppose it's the sort of performance we've come to expect from him."

Estel frowned, glancing over at Legolas who seemed to be trying with all his might to ignore his brothers' conversation, attention instead focused on the she-elf beside him.

"What are you saying?" Aranion demanded.

"I'm just saying that if Legolas had been a better archer his victory would be something to be proud of, not something due to a fluke shot by the other archer," Belegdur shouted.

The hall had suddenly grown strangely quiet, Estel noticed. Legolas looked stricken, his face pale and drawn.

"It is something to be proud of!" Aranion replied, pounding his fist on the table to emphasize his point. The she-elf beside him—who Estel figured was his wife—put a hand on his arm as though to caution him. "He's your brother, Belegdur! Can't you show him a bit of courtesy?"

"I know he's my brother," Belegdur answered coldly, not seeming to notice that their conversation had become a focus of attention for the entire hall. "As to courtesy, why don't you ask him where his courtesy was when he ignored the rest of the archers in the tournament for the sake of his friends from Imladris?" he asked haughtily, shooting a glare at the twins and Estel. "Why don't you ask where his respect for his position was when he decided it was better to act like a savage than one of the king's family? Why don't you ask him why he chose to disgrace this family rather than honor it?"

Estel started. What was Belegdur talking about?

"What!" Elladan demanded, rising to his feet. Elrohir quickly jumped up to put a restraining hand on his brother, though the younger twin's face was livid.

"How dare you!" Belegdur seethed, jumping to stand. "You stay out of this, this is our business."

"Then surely this is something to be discussed in privacy, isn't it Belegdur?" one of the elves at the table asked.

"That's none of your concern, Gilfaroth," Belegdur snapped.

"Belegdur," Thranduil said sharply, leveling an icy gaze at his third-born child. "This is neither the time nor the place."

Belegdur seethed, though he didn't quite dare to glare at his father. "You always side with him! Can't you see how his actions are bringing shame on this family?"

"You're the one who's shaming the family," Elladan retorted, ignoring Elrohir's caution.

"Would it have really been so hard not to miss those two shots?" Belegdur asked, suddenly turning to his younger brother. "Did you even try, or did you just count on luck or the other archer's poor skills to give you the victory?"

The table erupted into chaos. Elladan nearly launched himself across the table—and had it not been for Elrohir's restraint he might have actually attacked the prince. Belegdur was furious, restrained by his older brother on one side and nephew on the other as he continued to argue with Elladan.

Estel caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and glanced over in time to see Legolas leave the table and slip out the door.

Thranduil turned his gaze from his arguing sons to the empty seat beside him and looked up, catching Estel's eyes. The human was struck by the grief in the king's eyes, and in a moment he understood what the king was asking.

"Excuse me," he said politely, turning from the table before he could even see the king's nod.

He had to find Legolas.

Not entirely familiar with the palace grounds, Estel managed to find his way out an open side door and into the gardens. As luck or some other force would have it, that was where he found Legolas.

The prince was sitting on the bank that overlooked the forest river, his back to the palace. "Please leave me alone," he called as Estel approached.

The human hesitated, but decided to ignore the prince's request. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Estel?" Legolas half-turned to look at the young man. "I'm sorry, I thought you were Brithdil."

Estel didn't say anything, but just sat on the bank beside his friend. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Legolas let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "No," he replied. "It's my fault, Estel."

"What is?" Estel asked, surprised.

"It's my fault that they're arguing. My brother is right, if I hadn't missed those two shots it would be a performance to be proud of. None of this would have happened."

"I don't understand."

"If I hadn't missed," Legolas explained in a pain-filled voice, "Belegdur wouldn't have had any cause to complain about my performance. Aranion wouldn't have argued with him to defend me, and the entire banquet hall wouldn't have known of my failings as prince."

Estel shook his head. "That argument isn't your fault," he protested. "And what if you hadn't missed? Wouldn't he have just said something else?"

Legolas sighed unhappily, drawing his knees up to his chest and gazing at the dark water. "I don't know," he replied.

They were quiet for a few moments, Estel desperately trying to find the words to comfort his friend. "Don't listen to him," he finally said. "Nothing he said in there is right."

"What if it is?" Legolas replied quietly. "What if he's right and I am dishonoring my father? What if my father is secretly displeased with me but is too ashamed of me to tell me?"

"That can't be," the human shook his head adamantly. "Did you see your father's eyes when he was watching you in the tournament? He's proud of you, Legolas?"

The prince just looked away. "I wish I could be sure."

"Then talk to him," Estel encouraged.

Legolas buried his face in his knees, trembling. "I just wish I wasn't such a failure."

Estel wrapped his arms around Legolas, his mind searching for something to say. "But you're not a failure. You won, Legolas! You won the tournament!"

"Then why does it feel like I lost?" Legolas asked, his voice breaking.

Estel just hugged the prince closer, tears forming in his own eyes as he felt the repressed sobs shake the archer's body. He wished he knew what to say to comfort Legolas. His father would have the right words; Elrond always knew the right thing to say.

But then again, sometimes words weren't needed.

Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?

AN: We're halfway done! Next up is chapter six: Danger in the Forest.

PS: If you would like to see Elladan hit Belegdur over the head several times with a large club, you might want to check out the first "episode" of Elladan's Grand Plan.