The morning had waned into afternoon when the former Lord Tanondor groggily pulled himself out of unconsciousness only to find that half of his face was buried down into a patch of rather moist terrain. He groaned and then gagged slightly when some mud flowed into his open mouth. Disgusting! It must have been one of her tricks, that woman he married for the sake of appearance and in an attempt to continue on his family line. It was just like her to do something like that; he'd suspected that she was out to get him for years. All of her timid quietness and sometimes frightened screams didn't fool him for a second!

Wait – wait, not "didn't" but rather "hadn't"; she hadn't fooled him for a second. Tanondor tried to force open the eye that wasn't buried in dirt as he slowly started to remember. He wasn't in the barren bed that he shared with his wife, or in that estate that had transformed from his childhood home into a mausoleum during his years of living death; why he wasn't even in the White City, which he'd once loved but now served as his prison. He'd left all of that behind – citizenship, respectability, his past, old friendships – and was on his way to Dol Amroth. There he fully planned to live out the rest of his days in complete bliss with the love of his life, the Lady Almarian, at his side.

There was no doubt in Tanondor's mind that everything would happen just as he imagined it would. He didn't care that he and Lady Almarian had parted under less-than-perfect terms – that was back when she was another person, Lord Cirion's wife! Now that Cirion was gone, he convinced himself, she wouldn't care that she'd caught him in her bedroom rummaging through everything that she hadn't yet packed. She would forget all about her harsh remonstrations and laugh about how silly she'd been when she wrote to him months later after discovering the tiny, insignificant trinket he'd taken so that he would always have a part of her with him. No, Lady Almarian had now had years to realize what a gigantic mistake she'd made in begging her father to marry her off to anyone else but Tanondor; she would now welcome him with open arms when he turned up on her doorstep. As a little extra insurance to make sure that nothing would go wrong Tanondor even had an extra surprise, one that would make him all the more irresistible: he could and would replace his love's ill-sired daughter with not one but four children of commendable – remarkable, even – breeding.

Children…children…just thinking about his brand new son and daughters sent a sharp pain straight into Tanondor's brow. Had he had any problems with the children formerly known as Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen? The former lord managed to roll onto his back and brought one hand to his forehead as he struggled to remember. Everything had been going so well; the babies had slept for the most part, the older two were wonderfully quiet and still – really, he couldn't understand why parents all over Minas Tirith hadn't flocked to the Houses of Healing to get their hands on that miraculous sleeping potion! There had been that regrettable instance of having to stab Eärnil but Tanondor refused to be bothered with worrying about it, either now or ever again. The past was past, after all, and he'd been determined to make it to his new home before any of the young ones started fussing.

It was a shame that hadn't happened. Tanondor grimaced as he recalled being forced to halt the cart when the twins had started crying (a dreadful noise, really; he resolved – not for the first time that day – to break them of that habit once they arrived in Dol Amroth, as Lady Almarian deserved to have perfectly quiet children). Whilst sorting through all of the packs to find the bottles that he'd marked specifically to be used on that day, he had been temporarily gleeful about killing his old friend – if Eärnil had really been so disorganized that he packed their supplies so haphazardly he deserved to be dead! How could anyone not care as much about order as Tanondor?

Throughout his trying ordeal to find the properly labeled bottles the babies had been no help at all. They had cried ceaselessly, caring about no one else's struggles but their own and demanding impatiently that someone attend to their needs. Tanondor couldn't abide by such behavior! Perhaps it would be wise for him to teach them that getting fed was a privilege and not a right; but later, when he had more time and freedom to focus his attentions on the momentous task. Honestly, King Elessar and Prince Legolas had spoiled those infants rotten when the children had been theirs! Tanondor could see that it would take quite a lot of work on his part of undo the years of damage and rid them of their rudeness once and for all.

'There's hope yet,' Tanondor reassured himself mentally, even though thinking was making his terrible headache worse. 'They were tolerable enough when they were asleep. They all were…'

But there was something about that thought that felt so bitterly ironic. They were all tolerable enough when they were asleep? It was slowly coming to him…. Yes! Eldarion and Laurelin too had been fine enough to deal with when they were unconscious but in many ways they had behaved even worse than the twin had once they'd woken up. First of all, the very fact that they'd been awake before schedule had been enough to get on Tanondor's nerves. That shouldn't have happened; he'd taken extra care to make sure that he'd given them enough herbs to keep them quiet and compliant for at least a day and then groggy enough when they woke up that he would be able to drug them again without too much of a fuss. 'Its failure had something to do with the elvish in them, I suppose,' thought the former lord irritably. 'I should have cut off the tips of their ears before I gave them the potion so that part of them wouldn't hinder the effectiveness of my potion.'

Well, if there was one thing that Tanondor couldn't abide by it was people who refused to go along with his plans after he'd taken so much time in thinking them out carefully. It was especially true now, as it simply wouldn't do for his own children to go around showing blatant disrespect for his authority. When they finally got home to the children's new mother he would just have to give them all an extensive lesson in why they should sleep when their father wanted them to sleep. He could see that it would take considerably more work to teach the two older ones – after all, the twins had only been pampered to a ridiculous level for a little over a month while Laurelin had been catered to by the king and prince for over five years now and Eldarion for almost thirteen –

Eldarion! Tanondor let out a low growl that would have sounded very menacing if he had possessed the strength to not cough a little afterward. Thinking about that name had brought forth recent memories like they were water in a river with strong currents. That boy's behavior had been nothing less than abominable! First he'd been utterly disrespectful and ungrateful when the former lord had been nice enough to give him the opportunity to select his own new name; and then instead practically spat out his and his sisters' former monikers as if they were a curse and ordering Tanondor around as if he still had that right! Then came his perfectly awful fit, grabbing the horses' reins and forcing the older Man to strike one of the beasts. Thanks to Eldarion they now had no transportation for the rest of their journey!

Finally, finally – the truth was breaking through Tanondor's mind – that spoiled brat, that unruly child, that – that Eldarion had defied him openly in front of his sisters. The former lord couldn't stand the idea of being publicly humiliated by anyone, let alone by his son with his other children bearing witness to it. Why could that ill-mannered little monster just be grateful to him for doing him a favor by ridding all of them of the past? 'Lady Almarian had better own a whip,' decided Tanondor darkly, 'because I'm going to give that boy the lashing that he so clearly deserves as soon as possible.' While he wasn't sure if such a punishment would work on one who was of noble blood, if it was half as effective as it was when he'd found himself compelled to beat the young servants in his old home it would do nicely.

But there had been something else…something else had happened; something to do with Eldarion that was making him think that the whipping wouldn't be enough, that he would also have to withhold the boy's food and water until they arrived in Dol Amroth. More of the haze in his mind gave way as Tanondor fought to remember. After his little show of defiance, the older Man had decided to teach that young brat a lesson. He and Eldarion had ended up struggling…and then came one great pain followed by another one – that was it! That hideous little orc had kicked him in his sacred private place – he'd better not have adversely affected his ability to sire more children or pleasure the Lady Almarian or else the former lord would punish him so harshly that in the end Eldarion would beg for the whip and thank him as it sliced open his back – and then took his knife to knock him out. Of course, on top of all that the boy had continued to be rude and disrespectful to the end, mocking him with the words of King Elessar's advisors as he brought the hilt down on him.

The knife – where had the knife ended up after that? More alert now, Tanondor groped through his pockets and fingered his belt with growing desperation but he could feel it nowhere. With nothing else left to do he opened his eyes a little and scanned the immediately surrounding area, squinting through the painful light of the sun. There was no sign of the weapon anywhere. "Leave it to that churl to steal my knife," mumbled Tanondor.

He didn't need this aggravation; in fact, the older Man had half a mind to dispose of Eldarion right then and there – Lady Almarian had lost one daughter, after all, not a son; and presenting her with three girls to replace the one was still a generous gift. But Tanondor was nothing if not consistent, stubborn, and single-minded: once he'd decided the way that something should be there was nothing that anyone could do to change his mind. He'd made up his mind that Lady Almarian was going to get four children awhile ago and Eldarion would simply have to learn some manners. It would happen, too; Tanondor considered himself to be an expert on getting the unruly to behave. He was confident that soon Eldarion would be cowering before him just like all the other rude little servant boys that resided in his old estate in Minas Tirith.

"You are fortunate that I am not willing to give up so easily, my son," Tanondor spoke out a little louder, snarling the final two words, "and even more so that I do not have the time right now to properly discipline you. For now all you will have to endure is a hungry stomach and parched throat for the next few days. But so help me if you make it necessary for me to – Eldarion? Eldarion?"

That's when Tanondor realized how quiet it was – too quiet, considering all that had just happened. There was no crying, no sniffling, no defiant shouts or mutters, not even the telltale shuffling that would let him know that someone was still around. With that unsettling realization the former lord finally conjured up enough strength to push himself up off of the ground. What he found when he was finally on his feet infuriated him: there was no Eldarion, no Laurelin, no Gilraen, and no Meren. The packs looked as if they'd been ransacked through and in the debris that surrounded them he could see that several items were missing. There were even what appeared to be shreds from the warm, expensive blankets that he'd brought along littering the ground by the packs as well.

Stumbling a bit the Man hurried over to what seemed to be what was left of his wonderful, perfect plan. "Those nasty, undisciplined, messy, disorganized, disrespectful, little thieves!" roared Tanondor furiously. Of noble blood indeed! Perhaps King Elessar had been lying about his claim to the throne all along, as no king or noble would be capable of creating children like that.

What made it worse was the fact that not only had they stolen for him but also they hadn't even had the intelligence and class to do it correctly. How could anyone, even with just a partially-functioning brain, not realize that he had a color-coded schema going on when it came to the food? But apparently those children were shockingly stupid, as he could plainly see that at the very least one of the blue-marked bottles was gone while the other lay discarded in a heap on the ground…and the travel bread for the pink days had been taken while the corresponding bottles hadn't. They hadn't even stolen the right sort of supplies! Almost all of the waterskins were still there, scattered empty on the ground.

Fortunately he'd taken the time to work out in his mind what he would do if he found himself in this very sort of situation. Tanondor had carefully mapped out what would happen if the children had proved to be uncooperative and had somehow managed to run away. As he was aware, Eldarion thought himself to be a passable tracker; therefore the older Man had little doubt that the children under the boy's command would try to retrace their way down the cart's trail until they found something or someone familiar.

Thank the Valar that after that little setback everything now seemed to be working in his favor! If what he was currently looking at told him anything accurate Tanondor was safe in assuming that Eldarion was being weighed down significantly. He had to deal with two babies, after all; not to mention the many supplies, at least one waterskin, two blankets, and little sister that would be slowing him down. As a little added advantage the former lord knew for a fact that the water that Eldarion was carrying with him had already been laced with the sleeping potion. All he had to do was overtake them on the trail; and after a lesson that the fainthearted would call vicious but he knew was just firm they could be on their way again to their new life.

Tanondor never once questioned the validity of his calculations and assumptions. He was too certain that if one took the time to plan something carefully then one was always right. His entire world, his whole life, was dedicated to maintaining order, to the point where the things that didn't fit into his view were seen as annoying anomalies rather than the everyday things that kept people on their toes.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

By the position of the sun that cracked through the branches of the trees that sat on other side of the makeshift path Eldarion had to figure that he and Laurelin had been walking for a couple – maybe three – hours. According to his tired feet, sore arms, and aching back, however, he would have sworn without a moment of hesitation that they'd been on the move for days on end. With each passing step he was developing a deepening respect for all women and male elves that could and had born children.

'I vow that from here on out if I see a pregnant person, or someone that has to fuss with small children, or really anyone forced to carry a great burden I will do everything that I possibly can to ease their suffering,' he promised himself quietly as he shrugged his shoulders and flexed the muscles in his back in a fruitless attempt to get more comfortable and work out the kinks there.

Eldarion winced when his efforts did nothing for him but managed to jostle around Gilraen enough to make her make a noise in her sleep. He stilled for a few moments to make sure that she wouldn't wake up and then silently added: 'And if Ada is ever pregnant again I'm going to help Papa see to it that he doesn't overdo it. Papa was right about all of that: even if Ada was perfectly capable of riding and lifting and all of that stuff he shouldn't have had to do it if this is anything like what Ada felt every day! Honestly, I don't see how he managed to move about like he did with so much extra weight, let alone fought to still be able to do all of that!'

As if the pain that he was currently in wasn't enough, what made Eldarion's situation all the more unpleasant was knowing that even though he and poor little helpful Laurelin were loaded down like pack horses it still wasn't enough. It was almost enough to make him start laughing again: for all of the times that Eldarion had been so eager to grow up he never really understood all of what that would entail. When he had wished to be older he'd done so out of the desire to train with real weapons out in the open instead of having to hide it from his ada; and because he'd wanted Findowyn to see him as more than just the little boy that had always been the balrog's victim whenever they'd played together as children. Now he was, for all intents and purposes, the adult and all of the responsibility that went along with that constantly threatened to overwhelm him if he didn't take care to keep a clear head.

His first test (he didn't feel as if he could count fighting with Tanondor, as instinct had taken care of most of that) had come when the time had come to get him and his sisters away from the crazy lord. Not many people would have been prepared for the struggled that it had taken to pick through the supplies and to figure out what exactly a twelve-year-old and five-year-old could carry along with two babies.

O – Flashback – O

Laurelin slowly moved away from the now sleeping Meren as Eldarion moved the basket that contained Gilraen closer to them. The babies were now sufficiently calmed, thank Elbereth, but the boy couldn't be certain how long it had taken to get them to that state. It had seemed like forever but thankfully the insane lord still seemed to be out of it. All Eldarion could hope now was that he'd struck Tanondor hard enough to keep him knocked out for a long, long time; still, it wouldn't hurt to make sure that his sisters were all gathered in one place just in case, right?

With one eye on the prone body that lay a few yards off but still too close to ease his mind Eldarion said, "Laurelin, start sorting out the babies' food and our food, too. Lay them in piles while I empty out the waterskins."

"Wh-what?" asked Laurelin shakily. She tried to look at her brother and only at her big brother but her eyes kept darting over to look at Tanondor. Frightened tears welled up as she stared at him and bit her lower lip.

"Laurelin – Laurelin, look at me," ordered Eldarion in a kind but firm voice as he gently turned her face back so that she was looking at him again. If he knew anything he knew that he couldn't save them all alone and unfortunately for them both his bad chance at finding any sort of help was with his traumatized little sister. He needed to find a way to get through her fears and his first instincts were to relate the direness of the circumstances in a direct way while still relating to her on her level. "The mean Man is asleep right now and if he wakes up I will do everything in my power to protect you. But I for one think that it would be best if we were somewhere else by the time that happens. I would leave him right now but we have a few things to figure out before we can do that. What I need and the babies need is for you to be a big girl and help me. Can you do that, sweetheart?"

The girl, bolstered by the kindness in Eldarion's voice, swallowed and nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

"Good," Eldarion told her. "Thank you so much."

Together they made short work of the tasks before them. Eldarion cursed silently at each of the seemingly endless stream of waterskins that he unscrewed and drained. Tanondor was really planning on keeping them for a long time, wasn't he? And he would bet anything that most of the water that was spilling out on the ground was tainted with the same herbs that had made him and Laurelin go to sleep in the first place. It was almost therapeutic to watch it splash down and know that not only would it not be able to incapacitate them anymore but also that dumping it would make Tanondor's life all the more difficult once he regained consciousness. Eldarion couldn't help spitefully wishing that all of that drugged water would run down into a puddle that would end up drowning the crazy Man; perhaps then they could have the luxury of waiting for help to come to them. However, that was just a mean-spirited daydream that gave him some way to channel his rage at Tanondor without doing it aloud and scaring his sisters; and soon he put it aside to focus on more important things, such as what was actually supposed to be happening.

When he was finished with the empty waterskins Eldarion set aside two of them and turned back to Laurelin. "What do you have left to do?" he asked.

"Nothing, I think," she replied, trying to sound as brave as he was. She gestured with a slightly shaking hand to the three stacks that she'd just created. "There are a lot of baby bottles, food for us too, and a couple of blankets."

"Where did those come from?" Eldarion couldn't help wondering.

"I found them folded at the bottoms of two of the packs," explained Laurelin. "But there wasn't anything else hidden in any of the others. This is it."

"The rest of the supplies must have been on the cart," commented Eldarion. He wasn't sure if he should feel dismayed at the loss of things that might have been potentially helpful or relieved that his responsibility of deciding what they had to take with them and leave behind wasn't going to be any more complicated.

The little girl nodded and coughed, her throat dry from crying and screaming. "Can – can I have some water?" she asked timidly.

"I had to dump it all – it had bad stuff in it," replied Eldarion calmly. Laurelin looked scared and miserable. "Listen to me, little one: we are going to be all right. We'll get something to drink from the river once we set off but we can't afford to go all the way there and back again right now! Let's think of it as a…reward for working so quickly. Now, how much do you think that you can carry?"

"A lot," Laurelin told him, more because she felt that's what she was supposed to say rather than what she really believed.

Eldarion gave her a small, wry smile. "Thank you," he said. Of course he know that the actual amount wouldn't be too much – being half-elves they were stronger than other, completely Mannish children that were their ages but still they had their limits – but at least she was willing to try. He wasn't about to discourage that attitude by countering it with something more realistic.

He stared down at the piles and tried to sort everything – what they needed, what he could carry, what she could carry, how they would carry it – out in his head. "I'm afraid that we're going to have to load up on the bottles and leave most of the other food," he finally declared regretfully. "We can find berries and I can use my knife to hunt if necessary but these are the twins' only source of food and we won't be able to fit enough in the few packs that we'll be able to carry as is."

"We could fit more stuff in the baskets," suggested Laurelin hopefully. "Maybe we could pack some of it around the babies."

"They might get hurt like that, and there would be no wiggle room for them," Eldarion shook his head. Glancing down at his infant sisters he felt a surge of frustration. If only there was a way that he could carry them without them taking up both of his hands and so much stow space! He sighed and looked at the rest of the supplies. If only…. "Wait! Laurelin, Papa taught you how to tie a sling that let you carry your dolls around without really using your hands, right?"

"Yes," she affirmed, sounding a bit confused. "But it was for my dolls."

"I remember Papa having something like that for you when you were a baby," explained Eldarion, grabbing the two blankets with desperate, resolute enthusiasm. "When I asked him about it he told me that he learned to make them when he was a ranger, back when he spent a lot of time around people that had to move around all of the time. I never bothered to learn how to make one myself but you did – can you show me how, please?"

Laurelin nodded and dutifully recited the instructions as she remembered them, quietly at first and then with more confidence as she watched Eldarion follow them, making two slings. After cutting a bit off of the widths of the blankets and tying the most secure knot that he could into one he looked at his sister with a good amount of earnestness. "Tell me truthfully: could you carry one of the babies like this?" he asked seriously. "I won't get made if you can't and I can manage both of them if I have to but if we can keep them from getting all smushed together I'd like to do that."

"I – I have dolls that are only a little lighter," decided Laurelin. "I can do this – really."

"All right then," nodded Eldarion warmly, picking up the second blanket. "I need for you to lift up your arms and I'll tie it around you. Aren't you excited, Laurelin?" he added, trying to remain as positive as possible for her sake. "This will be your first time carrying a real baby."

After her sling was in place Eldarion set out on the painful task of fitting as much as possible into two packs and two baskets. First he loaded as many bottles as he dared into the packs, keeping in mind that one of them would be Laurelin's so it would have to be somewhat light (though, loath to have any wasted empty-space he added some of the less-heavy food for them into hers). Once they were ready he carefully lifted the twins out of their baskets and set them on a relatively soft bit of ground. Into the baskets that had once been their beds he set a few more bottles – not as many as before, however, as he could easily imagine his arms getting tired before his back did – and a few more packets of food for Laurelin and himself.

When there was nothing left to pack the boy slipped his sling on, helped his sister into her pack, and placed baby Meren into her sling; his own pack went on next, then Gilraen was set into his sling, and finally he picked up one basket in each hand. "I think that's it," he announced with exaggerated cheerfulness. He glanced back over at Tanondor – by the blessing of the Valar the crazy lord still wasn't moving. "Ready to get that drink now, Laurelin?"

"Yes," said Laurelin, giving him a hint of a smile as they left the small clearing and headed south. "I guess we're all right now, huh?"

The babies had enough food for maybe four days if they were extremely careful, he and Laurelin had even less, and they were walking into part unknown with the potential of having a madman on their tails very soon. "Of course we are," replied Eldarion.

And they would be – provided that someone found them soon. Eldarion's escape plan depended on that.

O – End Flashback – O

"Eldarion, Eldarion stop!" cried Laurelin suddenly as a shrill cry from Meren filled the air.

"What's wrong?" demanded Eldarion, rocking Gilraen as she joined her twin in screaming. "Did your knot slip?"

"No," replied Laurelin, sounding a bit horrified. "I think she's wet." The little girl felt around and made a face. "I know she's wet."

They didn't have any diapers; Eldarion hadn't even thought about that! And he couldn't exactly let Meren (or Gilraen, when it came to it) stay wet, as babies got sore like that and he didn't' have any oils to soothe that with him. "We…we'll have to stop and wash it, I guess," he said.

"But the diaper will take so long to dry," protested Laurelin uneasily. "She can't wear it before it dries, she can't go bottomless or else she'll mess up the sling, and the mean Man…"

Drat! How was he going to take care of this? If only Ada or Papa were there – one of them would be able to figure out a clever solution. 'What would one of them do anyway?' thought Eldarion. 'Probably think about everything at their disposal, from what was in their pockets to the shirts on their backs….' "We'll pin the washed diaper to the outside of your pack to dry," he decided as a solution came to him. "For right now I'll cut up my tunic; that should be big enough to give each of the babies a spare one."

"Eldarion…"

"It's fine, Laurelin," the boy cut her off. "It's only temporary, after all. The four of us will be home before you know it."

Dear Elbereth, he hoped that wasn't a lie.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The guards had followed the trail for about an hour before it ceased to be straightforward. Marks looking like they belonged to the same wagon doubled back on the original ones before veering off into a completely different direction. Was the former lord trying to trick them or had he actually retraced his trail so badly? They needed to follow both, of course, but they needed to organize themselves before they could do that. The most prudent course of action, then, was to set up a base camp and break into smaller groups, all of which would report back there to make the search more efficient.

It was at this impromptu camp that Thranduil and Gimli found them. "What in Mordor is going on here?" demanded the elf.

The group of guards assigned to stay behind and keep track of everyone's movements whipped around to see a very perturbed elf and dwarf glowering at them. "My lords!" cried one of them.

"Did you not hear me?" asked Thranduil testily. Anyone would have been testy after the night that he'd just had: waiting for hours on end for a cart or word that all was well, both of which never came; finally deciding to head back to the city and happening upon strange tracks that looked to be from the cart that they'd been waiting for; following said tracks and discovering a group of people who were under suspicion for hurting his family planning…something. He wasn't used to being kept on a need-to-know basis and Thranduil deeply hated it. Tired and worried to the point of recklessness the elven king went on. "I am sick of waiting and knowing what I 'need' to know. I demand to know what it is that you are doing and whether or not your king and prince know about it!"

"They do," Beren's exhausted voice came from behind them. The weary guard dismounted his horse and bowed to Thranduil and Gimli before turning to the Men. "King Elessar and Prince Legolas will be here shortly. Have something to tell them; just…just have something."

"What's going on?" Gimli asked Beren. He and Thranduil stepped closer to the guard while the rest of them dispersed. "By Aüle, you'd better tell us! I can't take any more of this secrecy."

"I'll tell you everything – almost everything," swore Beren, meeting their incredulous stares with his deadened eyes. "The prince will tell you the rest of it when he gets here. He wishes to see you, King Thranduil."

Thranduil grew pale. "Something has happened to him, has it not?"

Beren looked almost ready to cry. "He's going to need you – both of you."

To be continued…