Elrohir stepped to the side of the room, and watched through narrowed eyes as Glorfindel tied Seregeth to a wooden beam that came down from the ceiling to the floor. "Make sure the rope is nice and tight around him, so that he cannot escape. Scum like him should not be allowed to walk over Middle-Earth."

"Damned Elves," Seregeth spat. "I should have known that the cavalry would arrive sooner or later. But you took your time in coming. Is the boy really so little cared for?"

"Careful. When you are being tied to a pole by an irate Elf-lord, you would be wise not to anger him further," Glorfindel advised serenely, as he walked in circles around the man, wrapping the rope around him.

"Curse you!" Seregeth struggled against the bindings, but they were Elven, and his strength was no match for them. "Curse you both to Mordor and back. You will pay for this, for this insolence!"

"We will not," Elrohir said quietly. "You, however, will pay for the hurt you have done to that child. You could never hope to get away with it. If we had not passed your cottage, other Elves would have eventually. And perhaps they would have done worse to you than this. Valar knows you deserve it."

Glorfindel knelt behind the man's back, and knotted the rope. "There. Finished. You are a captive, my friend, and likely to remain so until some kind soul finds you and takes pity. Elrohir, call your brother. We are leaving."

"Elladan!"

Nothing happened for a moment or so, and the tense silence was broken only by Seregeth's heavy breathing as he continued to struggle helplessly against his bonds. But then a door opened, and another dark haired Elf stepped into the room, leading the child by the hand. Glorfindel and Elrohir both narrowed their eyes as they looked upon the wounds, and the latter had to bite hard on his tongue to keep from snapping at the man.

Legolas' gaze drifted first of all to the other two Elves, but it was swift to flick towards Seregeth. He took in the ropes, the useless fight against them; and said nothing. He could only watch. Blue eyes pierced his own, threatening and menacing as ever, yet at the same time asking for help. He did not move. His mind seemed to have stopped working, for he did not know how the sight of his once captor now imprisoned made him feel. Relieved? Happy? Triumphant? Safe? None of those?

"Take the child outside," Glorfindel instructed softly. "Get him out of this man's sight."

Elladan started to move towards the door, but a cold voice suddenly cut in: "Stay where you are, boy."

Legolas froze, staring in horror at Seregeth. How had that happened? He tried to move again, but flashing eyes pinned him to the spot. How was it that even though the mortal could no longer touch him, he could still exert such power and control? It was not right. Escape was close, so close…and yet so far. The Elfling was still a prisoner. He always would be whilst Seregeth was near.

"Come with me," Elladan murmured, tugging gently at the small hand. "You are safe from him, penneth. We will not let him touch you."

"Stay," the man growled.

"Let me go," Legolas whispered. "You have lost, Seregeth, because I have been given a way out. Just let go of your hold over me. Do not delay your defeat, for it is inevitable now."

"Are you going to leave me here, tied up with no defence and no food or water? I am surprised. I never thought you had it in you. I never thought you would be guilty of murder," Seregeth said softly.

"I am not," Legolas replied. "Nor are they."

Glorfindel pulled a knife from his belt, and threw it onto the table. It was a few feet from Seregeth – within reach, yet difficult to get to whilst tied so. "There. The child is right – we are not guilty of murder. Nor are we completely heartless. If you reach the blade, by all means free yourself. But it will take you a while, I am sure."

"Your generosity overwhelms me," Seregeth spat. He snapped his eyes towards Legolas, and glared at him. "You may well be escaping me now, but that will not free you. I will always be with you, in spirit at least. And one day…one day I will find you again."

Emerald eyes flashing, Glorfindel stepped forwards and lifted the little boy into his arms. He held him lightly – aware that the clothes could be disguising many other wounds of more danger than those adorning the pale face – but at the same time firmly, hoping that the hold would offer some comfort. And then without further words, he turned on his heel and left the cottage, ignoring the noises of anger coming from the mortal inside. All that was on his mind now, was getting the Elfling to safety.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The company that had left Mirkwood rode in silence. No words had passed between them since the King's awful revelation of the night before – that he finally feared his son was dead was painful to all of them. Even the horses seemed to sense the gravity of the situation. Their ears lay flat against their heads, and it was often that they whinnied to each other mournfully. Thalion was a witness to the grief of the immortals, and strangely, he found it hurting his own heart.

Though really, that was not to be wondered at. Sadness emanated from the Elves as intensely as anything else - love, happiness, laughter – or perhaps even more so. He could almost feel the grief before him; it was as though it was there in physical form, within reach to touch. For the first time in many years, he had felt the sting of tears in his eyes, an aching lump at the back of his throat. It came often, and was hard to dispel.

"Thalion, this way."

"What?"

Alondir smiled sadly, and nudged the other's mount back into a straight line. "You were caught up in thoughts. Your horse took advantage of your lapse in concentration, and was starting to wonder away."

"Oh." Thalion shook his head slowly as they fell back in with the group. "Forgive me, I just…I felt so strange."

"I do not doubt that. We are all grieving for the possible loss of our Prince; and when Elves grieve…" Alondir fell silent for a moment, and sighed deeply. "When Elves grieve, it is felt – especially by mortals, as they are not accustomed to such strong emotions and feelings. It was bound to affect you."

"I feel sad, as though I can never again know happiness," Thalion murmured. "Even more so when I am near the King."

Alondir looked up and watched as Thranduil rode alone, a way ahead of the group. "Of course. Does that surprise you?"

"No," the man replied softly. "And yet I wonder…he believes his son is dead. Why then, are we continuing towards our original destination? Why is he adamant that we must go there before returning to Mirkwood?"

"Is it not clear?" The Elf held the mortal's eyes, and spoke in a low voice: "Death may take souls, but it leaves bodies. If Legolas has passed on, the Valar would not be cruel enough to leave his mother and father without a body to bury. Whatever else they have done, they would not be that cruel."

Thalion looked away, and let out a deep breath. "We arrive at the cottage tomorrow. If there is no body there, what then?"

"The search for my Prince will end. My Queen will sail to Valinor, and my King…" Alondir paused, loath to say the words. But they came spilling out nonetheless, as though of their own will. "The royal family will be no more. Mirkwood will be no more. Our fates will be decided soon."

A way ahead of the company, Thranduil pulled his attention away from the conversation between Alondir and Thalion, though there was little else to give it to. He did so not because the words angered and embittered him, but because he knew, as so many others did, that they were true. The next few days were crucial not only to himself and his remaining family, but the whole realm.

If Legolas was not found on this final journey, Laerwen would sail. With both his wife and child taken from him, Thranduil would not tarry in Middle-Earth. There would be nothing left for him. But that could well prove to be the downfall of Mirkwood, as Alondir had implied – after all, the current ruler was the greatest King yet, greater even than Oropher had been; and it was through his power alone that evil had yet to reach the stronghold of the Elves.

Of course, another King could be chosen by the people of the realm, but it was inevitable that whoever they elected – be he a councillor with qualities of diplomacy and leadership, or a warrior of great strength whose fighting abilities were renowned – could not equal Thranduil as a ruler, for he was both a leader and a fighter. Little did he know it, but this was just one of the whispers spreading through the Elven country in his absence.

'How could I leave Mirkwood?' Thranduil wondered silently. 'The truth is that without me, it would fall. And I cannot let that happen. My father did not lead us there and build the kingdom so that I could destroy it. There is no-one else who knows how to rule over a land infested by darkness. Would they be able to maintain peace?'

He already knew the answer to that: no. He was a young ruler, and in comparison to Celeborn of Lórien and Elrond of Imladris, a new one. But he had always been prepared for the worse. At the end of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, many had celebrated and rejoiced that Sauron had been destroyed. But not Thranduil. He alone had known that victory would not last. And so he had prepared himself to rule a country of darkness lest his foresight be correct. And so it was, after a millennium. He had been given years to make himself ready, and it was because of this that he was a great King. No-one could do what he had in a few days.

'Kings are not permitted to be guilty of selfishness,' Thranduil thought bitterly. But then he exhaled, and closed his eyes. 'I could not be guilty of that anyway. I love my people. I cannot desert them. Though I will grieve, for them I must stay and be strong. I-

As a black feathered arrow struck the ground near his horse's hooves, the Elf cursed violently and instinctively whipped out his twin knives. His eyes flashed to the left and right of the road, searching in the foliage for any sign of the Orcs – it had to be them. Further down the road, Thalion and the group of warriors cantered forwards, but they were not even close to the King when another arrow shot from the trees, and slammed into his horse's side. The animal's legs buckled, and Thranduil jumped to the ground with a noise of anger.

"Show yourselves," he hissed. "Leave your hiding places, scum."

"Behind you!" Alondir shouted.

The Elven soldiers had notched arrows, but Thranduil had already spun and hewn a hideous head from a black body. Orcs were spilling out of the trees by the dozen, shouting with their harsh voices, and laughing. Many were shot down, but the others crowded around the Elf fighting on his own and started an attack on him, as though the charging company of warriors was not there.

The horses galloped into the fray, and Thalion swung his sword in wide arcs, slashing it across throats, stabbing through chests, removing limbs. Black blood sprayed over him, but he paid little attention to it. In fact, he even paid little attention to how he fought, for his eyes were instead fixed upon Thranduil, who had not seemed to have realised that help had come.

He spun and whirled in the small circle that the Orcs surrounding him had created, pushing aside blows and blocking them with a vambraced arm; ducking scimitars and rising to decapitate a black creature; fighting with all the skill of a ruthless assassin. As it had been on the night of his fight with Thalion, the Elven-king moved effortlessly and calmly, though this time his eyes betrayed his emotions. Naturally icy, now they were blazing with weeks of built up anger, hate and grief as he struck down his foes.

"The King," one of the soldiers hissed. "Why is no-one protecting him?"

"Stay where you are," Thalion said sharply, impaling an Orc on his blade. "He is looking after himself well enough. Stay here and take care of yourself."

Alondir nodded as the man caught his eye. It was true, after all. He idly sliced his knife through the dark chest of an enemy, and a second later, felled two of the creatures with just one blow. And that was it. He was alone. Only a few Orcs living remained on the road, but he left those to the other soldiers – they were easily beatable – and went towards Thranduil.

The blonde Elf was standing in the middle of around ten slain Orcs, uninjured and seemingly unaware that he had been approached. But then he spoke quietly, his voice dripping with quiet hatred. "They killed my horse," he murmured.

"What?"

"My horse. They killed her." Thranduil stepped to the side of the road, and knelt to wipe black blood off his blades in the grass. "You would think that taking my wife and only child was enough, but apparently not. The Valar saw fit to send Orcs after us so that they can kick me whilst I am down. Why?"

"You stopped asking questions after the first day," Alondir said quietly. "Do not start again. You will only torment yourself."

"I am a good Elf. I am a good King. I thought that I was a good husband and father, but evidently I was wrong, because I am being punished for something. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot think what I could possibly have done to displease the Valar so much that they cannot even leave me a damn animal!" Thranduil threw his knives to the floor at the last word, and flicked flashing eyes towards the sky. "There is no justice to this. They cannot send me a sign to hint at what I have done."

Alondir exhaled, and stepped forwards to place a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Yes, it is unjust. But not your fault. The Valar are not punishing you for any crime. You are guilty of nothing, and deep down, you know that."

Even if Thranduil had wanted to give a reply, the approach of Thalion would have stopped him. The mortal was silent as he sheathed his blade, just watching the Elves, debating whether or not he should speak, or allow one of them to do so first. But no speech was forthcoming from either of them. Sighing, he looked around at the fallen Orcs.

"Forgive the interruption. I thought you should know that I have asked the men to start piling the bodies," he said softly. "I hope you do not mind, only…"

"No, someone had to assume command," Alondir replied. "Anything else?"

"We lost no-one and received no casualties. A few wounds, but nothing more," Thalion reported. "And yourselves?"

"Uninjured." The commander paused, and glanced sideways at the King. "The second arrow felled Thranduil's horse. Had we been on our guard, perhaps it could have been avoided. As it is, I think all of our minds were elsewhere, which is understandable. But unacceptable. This cannot happen again. Next time, we may not be so lucky."

"It will not happen again," Thalion vowed.

"It is all very well saying that, but if it does…" Alondir shrugged, and sheathed his sword. "Any warrior I see lacking in alertness, I will send back home. That includes you two, regardless of whether you are a King or not of Mirkwood's troops."

"Acceptable," Thranduil said quietly. "But can you send yourself home?"

The commander laughed softly, though there was little humour to it. "I will give you that one, mellon-nin, I will give you that. But you do imply the truth, even if you do not speak it. I am as much to blame as anyone else, and that I will not dispute. When the road has been cleared, I will say exactly this to the soldiers. Until then, we need to decide what to do about the loss of the horse."

"Thranduil, you can have the one that I was lent from Mirkwood," Thalion volunteered. "We passed a human settlement this morning if you remember. It is about a league back from here, so a few of the others can ride there and buy another animal. It will take a few hours, but there is no other way as far as I can see."

"It will delay us," Thranduil said immediately.

"And so will having one of us walk."

The King let out a sharp breath of frustration, and flicked his hand at Thalion. "Go, then. Be back here as soon as possible – I want to reach this mortal's home by no later than nightfall tomorrow."

"May the Valar speed you," Alondir said quietly.

Thranduil looked sharply at the commander, his eyes cold. "They are no longer on our side. Until they are, I will not be relying on their help and blessing as I once did. You should heed that, Alondir. If you do not, you will be sorely disappointed."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Upon leaving the cottage in the copse, Glorfindel had returned with Legolas and the twins to the cave that had given them previous shelter, forsaking the nearby towns. He knew well that not all mortals were evil, but after dealing with Seregeth's cruelty, the seneschal's current inclination was to trust only his own race, especially where the rescued Elfling was concerned.

Luckily, although Legolas' wounds were many and painful, they were at least external, only cuts and bruises that could be treated with the correct medication and a bit of time. Broken bones would have complicated matters, but despite the fact that they were not an issue, Glorfindel could not help but feel as though there was a pain that ran deeper in the child than outward appearances suggested. But he said nothing of it for the moment, concentrating instead on helping to ease Legolas' discomfort.

"Do you need anything, Glorfindel?" Elrohir asked softly.

The Elf-lord looked up from his ministrations, and nodded once. "Some more water, I think. Heat it up when you return, and crush some athelas into it. I will need it for the child's chest and back in a minute or so."

"Can I do anything?" Elladan asked, as his twin left the cave. "I do not like sitting idly by."

"You have done enough," Glorfindel replied with a brief smile. "But I will let you know."

As a cloth covered in a strange herb pressed at one of the cuts on his face, Legolas pulled away slightly. "I am grateful to you for doing this, my Lord, and I cannot thank you enough for taking me away from Seregeth. But you do not need to heal me. I am well."

"Well? You most certainly are not," Glorfindel replied. "And if you think for one minute that I am going to leave you like this, you are very much mistaken."

"What I meant was that my wounds were never treated before. I had no choice but to let them heal on their own, because Seregeth would not…" The Elfling looked away, and exhaled. "They always healed without medication."

"Then you were lucky," Elladan said softly. "Any one of them could have been infected, and you would not have known of it. That is why Glorfindel is treating your current wounds – to prevent possible infection and further pain. It is for the best, even if you cannot see that."

"Are you all healers?" Legolas asked.

"Not by profession. I am many things," Glorfindel said with a smile. "I am a warrior, an advisor to Lord Elrond, his seneschal, his appointed mentor and weaponry tutor for the twins, and also a healer."

"Then, you must be talented indeed, my Lord," the Elfling murmured.

"Please, it is just Glorfindel."

Legolas looked up as Elrohir came back into the cave. "I am sorry," he said quietly. "I have been talking too much as it is. Seregeth often told me that he tired of my voice, so you must have also by now."

"You can never talk too much," Elrohir said. He glanced up from where he was heating the water over the fire, and smiled. "Especially when Elladan and I are near."

"All too true, I am afraid," Glorfindel sighed. "But all jokes aside, you must try and forget what that man said and did to you. I know it will be hard to push something like that from your mind, but what you have to know is that he was wrong to treat you in the way that he did."

"I displeased him often," Legolas said in a low voice. "I was not well behaved."

"Elrohir and I are not well behaved, but no-one would even consider hurting us so," Elladan said, hoping to elicit a smile from the Elfling. None came.

"But it was Seregeth's way of punishing-

"No. Do not try and justify what he did to you, because it is something that should never, never have happened," the seneschal cut in, pressing a finger lightly to the child's lips. "He hurt you, penneth. He held you prisoner. He tried to take away your life and keep it for himself, and…and that is wrong. It is so wrong. I understand that you are still afraid of him. You are, is that not so?"

"He said that he would come after me," Legolas whispered.

Glorfindel shook his head slowly. "But you are safe now. You are with me. And believe me when I say that I would die before failing to protect you. You are free from him; and you should take comfort in that."

"I…I don't…" The little boy looked up at the roof of the cave, and blinked a few times to banish the tears which had gathered. "I mean, thank you."

"The athelas is ready," Elrohir said quietly. He placed the pot at Glorfindel's side, and offered a small smile to the Elfling. "This will help you, penneth. It may not feel very nice at first, but it is a herb that is often used in healing. My father swears by it."

"Your father is Lord Elrond," Legolas said quietly.

As Glorfindel removed the child's tunic, a fluent string of curses came close to leaving his lips, so he replied for Elrohir to halt them: "Yes, he is their father. Why, do you know him?"

"No, but I know of him," Legolas replied slowly. "He came to see my father once, but I do not remember the visit. It was some years back. I was very young."

'You still are,' Glorfindel thought sadly, gazing at the red lacerations on his patient's back. 'You still are so young, and you should never have had to go through… But you did. The world can be a cruel place.'

"Who is your father?" Elladan asked. "Maybe we know him."

Legolas winced at the sting of the athelas on his wounds, but no protest left his lips. "He is…no-one," he murmured. "Just no-one."

"But-

"You will not know him."

"How do you-

"Because I do."

Glorfindel looked up, and shook his head at the twins. "Never mind. We can leave the asking of questions for a while. There is one, however, that I would like answered. What is your name? We cannot continue to call you 'child' and 'penneth'. I… Why do you shake your head? You must have a name."

"I don't," Legolas said quickly – too quickly.

"Everyone has a name," Glorfindel replied, his voice soft. "Why do you fear telling us yours?"

The Elfling looked away at the wall of the cave, shivering slightly as droplets of cooled water trickled down his back. "It is not fear, only precaution. My Lord, I want to trust you. I want to trust the twins. And the temptation to tell you everything is so great that it hurts. But I…I just can't. Not yet."

"I understand and respect that, so I will press you no further." Glorfindel smiled vaguely as he heard the child exhale in relief. "I have almost finished tending to you, penneth. I want to bandage your wounds now, and then you must rest."

"Unfortunately, this cave is all we can offer you at present, but it is more comfortable than it looks," Elrohir said, passing the seneschal some rolled up cloths. "We have stayed here for a couple of nights."

'After spending five weeks either on a thin mattress or in a storm, comfort does not matter to me,' Legolas thought. But he gave a grateful smile anyway.

Silence fell in the cave, and the Elfling took the chance to think about his new and drastically changed situation. He was free from Seregeth. He was no longer a prisoner. And he wanted to believe that, really he did; but every so often he had to blink a few times, just to clarify that he was not dreaming. But, no. He was living a free life, away from the constant infliction of pain and humiliation that he had become so accustomed to.

Yet despite the freedom, he was unable to sort his emotions into some semblance of order. Happiness coursed through and over him in waves, there was gratitude and admiration towards his rescuers, and a sense of security that had long been missing. But in amongst such feelings were black ones also. Fear – Seregeth had vowed to come after him. Doubt, distrust – everything told him that the three elder Elves were friends, but living in captivity had made him cautious, and he thought it safer to remain withdrawn until he knew more about them. And there were other feelings that he could not explain.

'My heart feels strange,' Legolas reflected. 'It hurt before because it was broken, but now it does not know which way to go. I think that… No. I hope that my rescue will heal it, because I have been given another chance. I do not want to die any more, but I am still afraid. What if there is no going back? What if-

"There, I have finished."

Legolas glanced down at the bandage wrapped around his injured torso, and nodded his thanks as one of the twins passed him his tunic. "Forgive me, my Lord. I was thinking. When I do that, I tend to shut out everything else."

"As do we all," Glorfindel said with a smile. "And I have already told you that you need not address me as your Lord."

The Elfling nodded as he pulled his tunic over his head. It was not the one he had worn out of Mirkwood. Seregeth had given it to him a few days into the imprisonment; and it smelt horribly of captivity. It smelt of the hated cottage, it smelt of the medicine that Legolas had taken during his fevered state, and worse than anything, it smelt of the man himself – a strange scent like old ale coalesced with hay and animal fur. It was not pleasant, and the little boy shivered.

"Are you well?" one of the twins asked softly.

"I… Yes. Yes, thank you." Legolas exhaled, and turned his gaze away from the elder Elves so that they would not see his discomfort. He did not want them to think that he was ungrateful for all they had done.

"Have some of this," Glorfindel said, passing the child a water skin. "It will do you good."

"Thank you, I…" Despite himself, Legolas narrowed his eyes as the sour smell of the liquid hit his senses. It smelt familiar. Too familiar. "What is this drink?"

"It is water, but I have put a herb in there which has healing properties. It smells awful and tastes even worse," the seneschal replied apologetically. "But it will help you, and in the long run, is for the best."

The boy got to his feet and backed away from the others, his eyes flickering desperately. "It is a sleeping draught! I know it is! I was forced to drink this before I was taken to Seregeth, and… Valar! I thought you were friends, I didn't…"

"We are," Elrohir said softly. "And you speak the truth – that is a sleeping draught. But we want you to drink it because you have been through a terrible ordeal, and you look so tired. It will send you to sleep for a few hours; and should we ride, you will not wake."

"You do need rest," Elladan contributed. "It will do you good."

Legolas watched the strangers in silence for a moment, but then he shook his head, and sat down once more. "I am sorry. I do not mean to be so distrusting, I just…you…"

"There is no need to justify yourself," Glorfindel said quietly. "Do not drink the sleeping draught if doing so makes you uncomfortable. I only thought that you would welcome rest."

"No, you are right," Legolas admitted. "I will drink it. Although, it will leave a foul taste in my mouth."

Elladan laughed at the poorly concealed expression of dislike that the child wore. "Many herbs are tasteless when mixed with water so that they can be slipped into food or drink without the recipient knowing. But unfortunately, this is the only herb we could find around here for our purposes."

"Never mind," Legolas said with a weak smile. He took a few swallows of the concoction, coughed as it hit the back of his throat, and then looked ruefully at the twins. "You two are healers also?"

"No, though we have been trained," Elrohir replied. "We are not bad students, but our sister is much better. Elladan and I prefer weaponry and fighting and tracking, so we concentrate on those areas more than anything else."

"So did I." Legolas blinked a few times, and raised a hand to stifle a yawn. "You have a sister?"

"Arwen. She is not much younger than us, but still a few centuries older than you, I deem. We see her only rarely, for she stays with our grandparents in Lothlorien," Elladan answered. "Perhaps you would like her. She would most definitely like you. She loves all children. In fact, she cannot wait to be a mother."

"Sounds nice," Legolas muttered.

Glorfindel smiled as the little boy rubbed at his eyes. "No, let it come. Allow yourself to be taken by sleep, penneth. Maybe your dreams will be pleasant, now that you are free from your captor."

"Valar…" Elrohir bit down on his lower lip, and stared at Legolas' eyes – they had fallen shut. "They are… Does that mean he is…?"

"Fading?" Elladan finished in a whisper.

The seneschal looked at the twins, and shook his head slowly. "I have feared it for a while, although I cannot be sure. It is as though his heart and soul are engaged in great battles, fighting over whether they want to stay or leave. I think what happened is this: the child's heart was broken during captivity, and it decided that it could withstand no more. But now this new freedom has made it doubt the choice of fading."

"He cannot fade," Elrohir said quietly.

"No. So soon after being rescued would be cruel," Elladan murmured.

"So it would. And that is why our trip ends here. We are going back to Imladris in one hour, so that our new friend can be saved," Glorfindel replied. "I will not lose him."

"Imladris? But Mirkwood is closer. Surely going there would be more practical," Elrohir began.

"In some respects, others not. The healers in the forest are well-learned in their art, and I have no doubt that that many of the child's wounds they could heal in an instant," the seneschal answered. "But they are not able to mend hearts and save Elves from grief. I know of only one who has the ability to try: your father. And so we go instead to Imladris."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ok, I am going to run away and hide from irate readers for several reasons. Firstly, for not updating sooner. You would not believe how busy I've been. My work has just piled up over the Christmas holidays, and I had to take two days off college just to complete my assignments! Luckily, they're done now. Secondly, for sending Glorfindel et al off to Rivendell instead of Mirkwood. But don't worry! It will all be resolved soon! I can promise about one or two more chapters of angst, and then the sun will shine again.

Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for all of your reviews – its nice to hear from some new people also! Hello to you all!

See you soon,

Misto

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