Elladan glanced sideways at his father, his face worried. They had followed the orc's trail until the storm had washed away much of what was. However, Elladan knew without a doubt that this was the way the orcs had come. Every so often they would come across a clue that let them know they were traveling in the right direction.

Orc prints sheltered from the rain by an outcropping of rock…a piece of rough cloth torn on some briars…the stench.

It seemed to rise from the very ground they had trod. A fouling of Arda's soil. Above all else, this was what made him sure of their path. He was as certain of this as he was that the sun would rise in the East.

Speaking of which…

The storm clouds that had dogged their footsteps had finally broken apart, drifting away and allowing a sliver of early morning sun to dance about their company.

Unfortunately, the light revealed no sign of Legolas or Estel. Elladan's mouth tightened. He knew that Legolas' light feet would have no hope of leaving a print, but he had hoped that Estel would find a way to mark the trail for any who followed. It disturbed the young elf lord that there was no sign that the human had even tried.

He glanced at his father once more. Apparently, the same thoughts were occuring to the elder elf. His gray eyes were dark, clouded over with something akin to despair…almost as black as the storm that had, until just recently, been so fond of their company.

Elladan kicked his heels lightly into his horse's side, urging it forward until he came even with the Elf lord. "Ada." He gripped his father's shoulder reassuringly. "We will find them." A small smile tipped the younger elf's mouth as he made a desperate stab at levity. "I promised Elrohir. And he will kill me if I do not keep my word."

Without a sound, Elrond reached up and placed his hand over his son's, accepting the strength offered. His mind clung to his eldest's words. He had no choice but to believe them.

Perhaps no father would.

0-0-0-0

It was cold.

Cold and wet.

His body shivered, awakening a whole new sensation.

Pain. And quite a lot of it actually.

Silver eyes opened slowly, blinking rapidly against the early morning light filtering through the trees above him. He hurt so badly…why? A low moan fought to make it out of his throat, but he ground his teeth together, squelching the sound. It seemed very important that he do this…but for the life of him he could not recall why… He quickly decided it didn't matter as it was eclipsed in his thinking by the pain… His head…ribs…shoulder…especially the shoulder…all apparently stuck full of very small knives or very large pins…he couldn't decide, but it was excruciating either way.

Hazy images flickered through his mind as he struggled to remember.

Lightning…orcs…fighting…Shaza…the knife…Legolas… The eyes went wide as memories crystalized. "Legolas!" He tried to leap up…

The wave of pain that exploded from his shoulder almost robbed him of breath. Almost. For a few minutes an interesting mix of Dwarven and Sindarin curses very nearly turned the air blue.

The ranger groaned as he forced himself to relax back against the muddy ground. What was wrong with him? Whatever it was, he needed to discover the cause…

He squinted at his shoulder. The bleary gaze locked on something shimmering and he spent the next several seconds bullying his brain into accepting what his eyes were telling him. In the end, it reluctantly aquiesed, and after a few moments he swallowed hard and turned his head away. It was a rather disturbing thing to see ones own sword protruding from one's shoulder.

At least that explained why he could not rise.

He was pinned to the ground.

0-0-0-0

Elladan slid from his horse, patting the creatures nose as he strode forwards. All around him, the rest of the company did likewise.

They were approaching a small copse of trees. Elladan grimaced as he walked. The ground was literally covered with orc prints. The twisted little monsters had evidently spent quite a lot of time here. Not only was the grass flattened…the young elf lord felt his expression of disgust slide into one of sorrow. The trees…his hand gently stroked the trunk of one, lingering over the ugly slash that ripped off a good half foot of bark. Many of the trees had been treated in a like manner. Their limbs had been hewed off roughly…not for firewood. They were flung to the ground beside the roots of the tree they came from.

The young elf was grieved and angered at the destruction. He could tell he was not the only one who felt thus. Quite a few of the other elves stopped beside a mangled tree, their faces drawn with sorrow at the wanton mutilation of the nature they so loved.

There could be no doubt that it was orcs that had done this. They were the only creatures so inclined to destroy all that was good and fair. Aside from that, they had left much to prove their presence.

An abandoned firepit…the leavings of an orc meal (Elladan quickened his pace as he passed these)…a broken dagger of obvious orc make…

Yet there was no sign of Estel or Legolas.

The young elf hastened forwards, eager to find something… anything…a glitter caught his eye.

There…something was reflecting the light of the sun. Metal.

And not just any metal.

Elladan felt his heart sink to the very bottom of his boots. It was a sword. The sword he and Elrohir had given Estel when the human had reached sixteen years of age. The sword that his younger brother had carried with him everywhere since that day.

The sword that now appeared to be stabbed through a crumpled and lifeless body.

"Estel!"

0-0-0-0

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably, trying once again to reach the hilt of his weapon. No luck. The ranger allowed his hand to fall back to his side, biting his lip as agony seared through him.

Mud squished unpleasantly beneath his back and he shivered slightly despite the warmth of the sun. The cold would not leave.

Frustration pounded through his mind. He had to get free! Legolas was in trouble! He had to…He was the only one who knew of the elf's situation.

Closing his eyes, the ranger drew in a deep breath and prepared himself to try again.

"Estel!"

The silver eyes flew open with an nearly audible 'snap'. He knew that voice! But it was impossible that he was hearing it now…The light sound of running elvish feet reached his ears…

A dark head pushed itself into his line of vison. "Estel! Oh, Valar, I thought you were dead!"

"You are supposed to be dead!" the ranger exclaimed at almost exactly the same moment. His eyes filled with tears as he gazed at his brother. "Elladan…how?"

"Not now, pen neth," Elladan knelt at his brother's side, his gray eyes taking in the ugly injuries and the blood that seemed to be…everywhere. "Sweet Eru…" he breathed, more to himself than the young human. "What did they do to you?"

"Do you… really want to know?"

"Quiet." The dark haired elf looked at the sword with a nauseous expression. "Ada!"

"Elladan…" The wounded ranger grasped his brother's arm firmly, pained worry evident in his eyes. "Legolas…"

"Hush," Elladan gently placed his fingers over the ranger's mouth. "Don't speak. Try to relax."

The absurdity of the command unfortunately struck the young human as quite humorous. He chuckled. The chuckles quickly turned to a gasp as pain flared from his wounds.

"I said relax!" Elladan gripped Aragorn's hand, his face contorting with worry as he saw his younger brother moan. He felt the ranger's fingers tighten around his own in a fierce grip, almost crushing the bones as he fought to remain silent. Elladan winced, but did not pull away.

"Estel!" Elrond raced toward his two sons, followed closely by the other elves. The elf lord fell to his knees beside his youngest. His gray eyes traveled over the human's torso, taking in the wounds across his ribs…the cuts running down each arm…a gash across his forehead…and the sword. "Oh, Estel…"

"Ada," Aragorn tried to smile at his father. He opened his mouth to assure the elf that everything was all right…he was fine…but found a soft moan escaping his lips instead. He immediately clamped his jaws shut, horrified at his slip.

Elrond stood slowly and took hold of the sword's hilt. "You will have to hold him," he said heavily to the gathered elves. His eyes bored into Elladan's as his warriors quickly took hold of the human's arms and legs. "Elladan…"

Elladan swallowed hard. He released his brother's hand and took hold of Aragorn's shoulders, gently, but firmly pressing the young man against the ground.

The elf lord tightened his grip…but hesitated. He knew the sword would have to be pulled out…there was no other way…yet the human was in so much pain already…he did not wish to cause his son more… "Estel…"

Aragorn's met his father's gaze steadily. "I know, Ada." He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. "I am ready."

The warriors nodded at their lord's questioning look. They too, were prepared.

Elladan closed his own eyes, bowing his head until his forehead touched his brother's. "I am here, pen neth," he whispered softly. He could feel Aragorn tremble ever so slightly in dreadful anticapation.

"Iston," the human choked back.

With one powerful jerk, the sword was pulled free. It flashed in the morning light, stained with the ranger's blood.

The elves were forced to lean down, holding Aragorn in place as his body arched against the pain. A cry tore from his throat…and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Elrond knelt swiftly. Unblocked by the sword, the wound bled freely, and the elf lord pressed his hands over it. "Elladan, my bag. Quickly!"

Elladan leapt to his feet and sprinted through the trees, whistling for his father's steed as he ran. Tears burned in the elf's gray eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he fought the sobs that struggled to break free.

He should have been able to protect his younger brother. This should not have happened. Not to Estel. Rage as black as the storm of last night filled his mind, driving away grief. How dare they do this to his brother! He ground his teeth together.

A black stallion trotted toward him, answering the summons. Elladan's fingers trembled as he fought to untie the knots of his father's bag. He cursed his clumsiness.

The horse whickered softly, disturbed by the elf's dark mood. It tossed its head uneasily as Elladan gripped the bag tightly, almost as though he simply intended to rip the leather apart to get at the bandages and herbs within.

Drawing a deep breath, the young elf lord forced his fingers to be still and pulled the bag free at last. He spared a brief moment to stroke the horse's nose, calming it. "My apologies," he said softly. "I did not intend to worry you, roch adar nin."

Turning, he strode back to his brother. He could feel the rage bubble within him, trying to take control. With a growl, he pushed it away. Now was not the time to dwell on his anger.

Estel needed him.

0-0-0-0

Halden slid from his horse, exhaustion dragging at his limbs. He had insisted that he come. The king had tried to persuade him to stay…but Halden would not hear of it. Legolas was part of his responsibility. It was part of the oath he had sworn, to protect the royal family. His duty.

But more than that, the prince was his friend. He had grown beside the golden elf, trained with him. Fought with, and for him.

He could not stand to stay behind, and wait for word.

Several of the king's captains, and the king himself accompanied the young sentry. They too dismounted. The captains' eyes roamed warily, searching for anything out of the ordinary…any hint of a trap.

The king…

Thranduil stared straight ahead, his jaw set, blue eyes like ice. Halden glanced at his lord and surreptiously inched away. He would not want that anger to be directed at him. Not for all the jewels in Arda.

"They most likely will not show themselves until dark, sire," an elder elf named Troas said grimly.

Thranduil jerked his head, aknowledging his captain. His long fingers clenched and unclenched around a slim golden braid that dangled from his belt. Only a slight trembling showed how truly enraged the Elvenking really was.

Halden saw the king's eyes flicker with emotion. Anger…worry…fear…The sentry started. He could not remember having ever seen fear in his lord's eyes. Not in all his years…

Troas noticed the elf's wide eyed stare and placed a hand on the young warriors shoulder. "Come," he said softly, pulling Halden away. "Leave the king to himself for now."

Halden nodded, and followed the captain back into the woods a ways. His weariness pulled at him with renewed force, causing his normally graceful gait to falter.

Troas grinned at the younger elf. "You did well," he remarked. "Not many could run from here to the palace without stopping."

"Had to," Halden mumbled around a jaw popping yawn. "How could I do less for my prince?"

" How indeed." Troas changed his grip on the young elf's shoulder to a support, catching him as he nearly collapsed. The captain smiled with grim pride down at the sleeping sentry. He had trained this youth. As he had trained the prince with him.

The grim smile widened slightly as he glanced back at his king. An almost feral light rose in the elf's eyes.

As he had also trained the king before them.

He pitied the fool that would come against his lord.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil fingered the slender braid. His eyes were gazing out of his kingdom, but they were not seeing what was before them.

He could see a babe held in it's mother's arms, small pudgy hands groping for it's father's fingers… 'da' it squealed happily. 'da'…A fierce wave of protectiveness crept over the king as he gazed down at his infant son…

A small elfling scampered through the brush, golden hair flowing behind him as he ran. He threw a challenging look over his shoulder… 'you can't catch me, Ada!'

The sunlight sparkled in light blue eyes. A slender elf youth crowed with delight as his arrow found it mark in the dead center of a practice target. He turned, his expression joyful and exuberant. 'Ada! Did you see?'

Laughter rose in the dining hall. Two friends sat side by side, ribbing each other to the amusement of the entire table. They were an odd pairing, fair haired and dark; human and elf. Yet Thranduil could see the obvious bond formed between the two…his son, and Lord Elrond's youngest. Legolas looked up the table, a woeful expression belied by the mischief dancing in his eyes… 'Ada, Strider does not believe that there are spiders such as we claim living in Mirkwood. He does not trust me…'

Thranduil groaned as the memories assualted his mind. Rage poured through him. That someone would dare to touch his son… his fingers curled into fists.

With a cry, the Elvenking slammed one clenched fist into the tree beside him. The tree's branches moved in agitation, the whisper of its' leaves a nearly inaudible message of grief over the king's pain.

Thranduil leaned against the tree, his hand stroking the bark gently in apology. He could feel sympathy flowing through the trunk, an offering of strength and support…

The branches bent around the king, as though they would shield him.

As though they would protect him from what would take place…

0-0-0-0

Ada- Father (daddy)

Pen neth- Young one

Roch adar nin- Horse of my father