A/N Yay! I got reviews again! It amazes me people can actually find this buried within all those thousands of stories. Oh, but I'm so glad you did- reviews are so exciting ;) Thank you Thank you Thank you

I think I forgot to do this for the last chapter… Well… they weren't mine then, not mine now.

Memories and Punishments

"This is most disconcerting…most disconcerting indeed….a most perplex situation…. The ring… the sea…perhaps it didn't? No, no, no… that is preposterous… Saruman… no… why would he?...hmmm… hmph…hmmm……indeed, this is quite a quandary, quite a quandary indeed…"

Thranduil lazily watched as Gandalf paced one way, stopped to gaze at a towering tree as if it perhaps could answer the puzzles in his mind, then turned around, mumbling under his breath, "no, no, no no… that cannot be…" as if the ancient tree had actually answered him. The wizard would then absently stroll to another tree only to find that it too could not supply a suitable solution.

The king heaved a great sigh. Unlike Gandalf, who was currently so engrossed in his musings that he did not notice the red sticky liquid spilling onto his robes as he distractedly stroked his beard with the same hand he was holding his goblet with, Thranduil could not focus his mind on the shadow that lay before them. No matter how the noble elf tried, one thought kept creeping back into his restless mind.  Legolas.

Deep in his heart Thranduil always knew everything Gandalf had told him – that Legolas's fate awaited him outside the borders of Mirkwood.  But how he dreaded the day he would have to watch his son depart from his home into a terrifying, unknown darkness. To hold him back would be cruel – Thranduil knew this – but was it not just as cruel to knowingly send his son out into a world, into a life, that would inevitably be rife with pain, suffering, and infinite grief? Could a father ever face a more dreadful choice?

His thoughts wandered to Maegren and Feáner, two of his older sons who now dwelled in the Halls of Mandos. How his heart clenched whenever he thought of them and that day, that awful day when Eilesiá, his anguished daughter, had burst frantically through the heavy oak doors, interrupting Thranduil and his wife in their singing and dancing in celebration of Lasse-lanta.*

Eilesiá, pale as sea foam, trembled violently from the terror she just witnessed. Ada, oh ada, it is awful….I did nothing, ada, it is my fault, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry… I did nothing…  Her words were barely comprehensible as she fell into her father's arms.

Horrible grief, guilt, and anger that he never felt before ripped Thranduil apart when he heard the wretched girl's tale of how his sons died in a struggle against some dark, hooded creature. His wife collapsed, shrieking and crying uncontrollably. And his daughter… his poor daughter…. To watch such an awful fate befall her own brothers! The great king quivered with relief that he had not lost her too.  But Thranduil's relief was misguided. For Eilesiá too was lost that day.

The king's young daughter never forgave herself for hiding idly in a tree as her brothers desperately struggled to their deaths. She suffered horribly as she denied herself food, drink and pleasure of any sort. Often Thranduil would find her, perched in a weeping tree staring at nothing in particular for hours at a time, her eyes dull and lifeless, her form emaciated. The only noise she made were the melancholy laments devoted to Maegren and Feáner.  The king's heartbroken wife hardly fared better.

'How cruel it is that I cannot join them! Why must this cursed body trap me here in this horrible, suffocating world!' she once sobbed into Thranduil's arms.

It was then Thranduil knew what had to be done.  If his wife and daughter spent any more time in Middle Earth, they would surely die of the grief that consumed them. So he sent them to the havens, where perhaps they could finally find some peace.

Years later, Thranduil's heart was buoyed to see his oldest son, Orophmin, return safely home from his travels throughout Middle Earth. Ai, but that too was a short lived joy. For Orophmin had heard the sea, and he yearned to sail West. When he heard the fate of his two younger brothers, his sister, and his mother, he could not quell his heart's desires and so he too journeyed to the Gray Havens. Today, Legolas and Ciédron were all Thranduil had left.  The thought of parting with either of them tortured his already grief-stricken soul.

'No, do not think of that day now… What happened to them will not happen to Legolas…,' the king shook his fair head in an attempt to erase the memories.  

Just when Thranduil feared he would be lost in a wave of haunting elven reveries, a "hmph" from Gandalf awoke him – apparently a tree had finally provided the flummoxed wizard with a favorable solution.

"Well then, I see, that is what must be done then. We can do little else otherwise after all," the old wizard muttered to no one in particular.

Thranduil gazed up at Gandalf. "What is it that must be done Mithrandir?"

Gandalf jumped, stunned to find that he was in the company of another being besides the birches.  Remembering he was in the grand hall of the wood elf king, not the enchanted forests of Imladris or the secluded, safe woods of the Shire, he slackened and returned to his mumblings and pacing.  Thranduil raised an eyebrow at this, but decided to spare Gandalf his impatient temper for now.  The wizard will speak when he wishesHe always does so anyway, and never any sooner.

Finally, Gandalf halted in front of a gleaming white birch, and as if realizing it was Thranduil he should be speaking to, not the king's birches, he turned and faced the elf.

"Thranduil, we do not know enough yet. We must - "

*CRASH*

Before Gandalf could finish, he was rudely interrupted by the slamming of two heavy oak doors against the wall as they flew open and a mussed up elf madly dashed into the throne room. A flutter of leaves rained around them as the birches trembled in the doors' wake. Thranduil jolted out of his seat and Gandalf stiffened as he grasped tightly to his staff.

"By the Valar! Legolas, what cursed mayhem has driven you here in such a state??" Thranduil fought the panic rising in his voice. His heart was now hammering rapidly in his chest.

As Legolas caught his breath, he managed to gasp out, "Ciédron…," but before he could finish, Thranduil let out a soft cry.

"Ciédron! Dear Elbereth, what happened to him? Legolas speak to me!" Thranduil was not sure if it was possible for elves to have a heart attack, but if it was not, surely he would be the first to prove such a theory wrong. Ai! How much could one elf take!

Another *CRASH*, another flutter of leaves, and another tousled, fair-haired elf violently bursting through the doors answered Thranduil's question about Ciédron.

The king's eyes, slightly perplexed, but still laden with concern, snapped up from one panting, slightly frightened son to the other rather incensed son as once more the doors swung open. This time, a surprisingly unruffled, composed ranger strolled in and leaned casually against a birch, looking rather amused at the scene about to unfold before him. 

Ciédron did not notice Aragorn though, and seemed not to notice even his father or Gandalf as he swiftly leapt and tackled Legolas to the ground. A fierce struggle erupted as a tangle of arms and legs punched, kicked and pulled viciously before Thranduil's disbelieving eyes.

The king's worry drained rapidly only to be replaced by a gush of fury. As if they were choreographed, Thranduil and Gandalf simultaneously turned their heads from one elf to the other while each took their turn attacking. Even the trees seemed to quake in unison. Aragorn, having already witnessed the exact same fight out in the archery fields, entertained himself by watching as a vein in Thranduil's forehead throbbed aggressively. A dark fire raged in the elf's bright eyes and his mouth tightened into a thin line. His knuckles were white from choking the arms on his chair and the idea occurred to Aragorn that the king was probably imagining each arm to be his sons' necks.  Gandalf slowly lowered himself to his seat, surreptitiously winking at Aragorn.

The elf king allowed his sons to have it out for a few more minutes when he finally, with a bellow that caused the entire palace, perhaps all of Mirkwood to shake, ended it.

"FOR THE LOVE OF Manwë, Ulmo, Aulë, Oromë, Mandos, Lórien and Tulkas, THAT IS ENOUGH!!"

Legolas and Ciédron, suddenly realizing where they were and worse, in whose company they were in, stopped cold. They dropped their hands, slowly straightened themselves to a standing position and reluctantly raised their heads to meet Thranduil's livid glare.  Legolas cringed at the sight of his father's pulsating vein and Ciédron squirmed uncomfortably as he noticed how the king's hands were wringing the arms on his chair.  He immediately berated himself for suggesting he would tell Thranduil in the first place about how Legolas sabotaged his lesson.

Legolas bit his lip. Here it comes. Ai, I wonder if I will ever be able to hear the song of Ilúvatar again after Ada has finished yelling at us. He anxiously waited for Thranduil to commence his tirade, which would surely be quite extensive after the show he and Ciédron put on in front of both the great Istari and the future King of Gondor.

Perhaps this one will be even longer than the one I got when Elladan, Elrohir and I replaced Ciédron's horse with a twenty year old mule the day of his great hunting trip…. Or when we replaced the furniture in the council room with hobbit sized tables and chairs before Ciédron had to take Ada's place at a meeting …Or when I released one of those dwarfs from our dungeon and told him he could sleep in Ciédron's bed…

Legolas suppressed a smile as he remembered Ciédron's stunned reactions upon discovering a putrid smelling mule in place of his magnificent steed, trying to explain to the Lake-town delegation why the elves had such tiny furniture, and when he laid down in his bed to find a snoring dwarf sleeping comfortably beside him.  Now he could add Alasse miraculously striking the target with some help from above, to that list.  Of course he thought Thranduil would surely throw him into the dungeons each time he pulled one of these pranks, but it was almost worth it just to see Ciédron's bewildered face…

Almost worth it… Legolas looked up again at Thranduil, wondering why he had not yet started to castigate them.  Thranduil's vein seemed to be receding somewhat now, though the conflagration in his eyes still burned forcefully.  Then, much to Legolas's surprise, the seething king reclined into the chair and rested his forehead in his hands. For the first time, Legolas noticed how tired his father looked and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.

But the sound of Ciédron's lofty voice doused whatever flame of guilt that might have flickered inside Legolas.

"Adar, if you would please allow me to explain…"

"Ciédron, I will listen to your explanations when I am ready to," Thranduil snapped, not lifting his head from his hands.  The pain in his heart had transferred itself to his stomach, and Thranduil now wondered if an elf could develop an ulcer. I dare whoever claims they cannot to live a week with these two.

Several long, torturous moments passed while Thranduil regained his calm.  Gandalf cleared his throat several times, Legolas and Ciédron, too terrified to utter a single word, seemed to be very interested in their feet and Aragorn continued leaning against the tree though he shifted uneasily in the awkward silence that enveloped them.

At last Thranduil lifted his head. "All right then…" he paused to let out a heavy sigh. Then his leaden voice continued. "Legolas, since you so honorably arrived here first, please enlighten us with your explanation as to why you thought a wrestling match would be an appropriate greeting for the Istari, heir to Gondor, and myself this evening."

The band that held Legolas's tongue snapped and like an erupting volcano, a rapid spew of elvish flowed from his mouth. He spoke so quickly, it was difficult for Aragorn to weave together what he was saying. He could only make out a few words  - 

"…. show Aragorn …archery fields when that orc …that oaf.. that dwarf…. absolutely treacherous… so abusive! Alasse….cry… then that troll… disgraceful! I wanted to help…"

Gandalf raised his eyebrows, looking quite impressed that one could say so much in so little time.  Thranduil merely nodded inattentively, much like a theatergoer who has seen the same act performed one too many times, and was now rather bored with the entire play.

When Legolas stopped, Thranduil elegantly gestured to Ciédron. "Ciédron? Please, do share your side of the story now, for I am most eager to hear why you, as a first-born over 3,000 years old, and crown prince of this kingdom, decided a roll in the dirt was long overdue, along with a good, solid, warg-like tackle of your brother."

Now it was Ciédron's turn to ramble on even more than Legolas had in yet a shorter amount of time.

"Alasse was practicing diligently finally beginning to pick up some skills when that spoiled little braggart stupidly decided to idiotically hop around those poor tortured trees and childishly sneak up on me and foolishly sabotage my intricately planned lesson by thoughtlessly shooting his arrows irresponsibly and obnoxiously, pointlessly striking Alasse's arrows to absurdly redirect them to the target thus selfishly denying Alasse any opportunity to learn to protect herself from an attacking orc, or a disgruntled troll, or an angry warg, or or or…. Or a bear!"

Gandalf's eyebrows shot up even higher at this. Elvish certainly is a funny language when one hears it spoken so rapidly and incoherently…

By now, Thranduil was leaning back calmly in his seat, his chin resting comfortably on his ringed hand.  He regarded his sons with a mixture of irritation and slight amusement. "I see… Well, thank you for clearing that up so eloquently…" he mocked.

The king leaned forward in his chair, fury slowly reigniting in his eyes, and he continued, his voice a terrible hiss. 

"Never has my time and energy been so wasted. Are you blind to what is happening around you? To what Mirkwood is facing?!?!?"

Thranduil's cold glare rested first on Ciédron who quickly averted his gaze, his face as red as the wood elves' wine.

Then Thranduil unleashed his glare on Legolas. He was slightly taken aback when the younger elf remained poised, calmly accepting the King's glare with his own resolute stare. Thranduil marveled at this and realized – Legolas had no regrets about his actions.

Such is the difference between the two of them. They are both impulsive, but Ciédron allows his heated emotions to get the better of him, whereas Legolas, though perhaps acting on impulse, is always aware exactly of what he is doing and what the consequences will be. He knew he would be punished tonight and he made the choice long ago that that would be a payoff. Ciédron is only just realizing the consequences of his actions. Alas, I fear he has inherited my brash temper.

Ciédron was indeed only now realizing how irrationally he had acted.  What came over me? His thoughts swam about confusedly in his head as he desperately tried to collect himself.  Why had he overreacted like that? There was certainly no need to attack his brother–not that Legolas did not deserve it, no Ciédron definitely felt his brother deserved a good tackle.  But he, as the crown prince, should know better than to act so recklessly. He could have ignored Legolas, ended the lesson (for he was bound to give up on Alasse soon anyway), and spoken calmly to his father about it later. Aye, that would have been the proper way for a crown prince to handle this situation.

But alas! How Legolas infuriated him! He is a regular prodigy, yes, of course, we are all aware of that, but must he always show me up like that? And truly, I do not believe he realizes the gravity of our situation… I was not yelling at Alasse to hurt her, but she must learn to protect herself – right now she could not save herself from a possessed bunny, let alone an orc or spider.  Does he not realize the danger we are all in? Has he forgotten what happened to Maegren and Feáner?

Ciédron cringed at this last thought, knowing how unfair it was.  Legolas would never forget what happened to Maegren and Feáner. None of them ever would.

Thranduil's booming voice pervaded the room, startling Ciédron.  "It is ridiculous that I must still punish you, when the both of you are fully-grown elves. But then again your actions are ridiculous, so a punishment would be most fitting."

A small smile crept onto Thranduil's strained face. It was rather sadistic, but he got such pleasure out of punishing his sons for his punishments were, more often than not, rather amusing. Thranduil never believed in the traditional sending of one's children to their rooms, or denying them dessert or play. Oh no… He preferred much more creative punishments… much more useful ones.

Thranduil eyed his empty goblet. He then picked it up and studied it thoughtfully, chuckling softly to himself. His eyes then met Ciédron's.

"Ciédron, I'm afraid we are running awfully low on the Lake-men's wine…"

Ciédron was rather baffled by this change of subject. Does he intend to punish me then by sending me to Lake-town? Well that's not bad… that's not bad at all…. Ciédron voiced his question.

"You wish me to lead a delegation to Lake-town to negotiate an increase in our wine imports?"

Thranduil's smirk widened to a hungry, tiger-like grin.

"No Ciédron, I, do not want you to trade for more wine… I want you to make more wine."

Ciédron's blue eyes widened considerably and he stuttered, aghast at what his ears were absorbing.

"Make? But…. How… I… don't we? I mean…"

"Grapes? Yes, do not worry Ciédron, we have plenty of those. About a hundred barrels full. I believe in fact Mignorean has already emptied out the barrels so the grapes are ready for crushing. You needn't worry about that. They are ripe and waiting to be stomped upon."

Ciédron now looked as if he would collapse in shock.

"You want me to stomp?!?"

"Yes, Ciédron, I think stomping grapes would be a far better mechanism for releasing your anger than dismembering your brother." Thranduil smiled warmly at his bewildered son and then turned to Legolas. 

Legolas's punishment, Thranduil thought regretfully, would not be as fun as Ciédron's, but it was the most obvious and logical one.

"Legolas, as for you, since you cut Alasse's lesson short, you will continue tomorrow where Ciédron left off. And you will not cease the lesson until Alasse herself shoots an arrow that strikes the target, unaided by any other arrows, knives, rocks, birds, twigs, acorns…" (a *hmph* from Gandalf accompanied this) "…or any other projectiles you may have in mind."

Utter shock and alarm painted Legolas's face, much to Thranduil's surprise. By Elbereth, this punishment is not so bad… At least his feet will not be stained purple until the next full moon…And no doubt he probably deserves a worse punishment than his brother!

"Ada! You cannot be serious! All of Middle Earth will fade before Alasse hits the target! The stars too will die out, the moon will retire, and the dwarves will have leveled all the mountains! Couldn't I just teach her until sunset?"

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. Perhaps this will be fun after all.

"No Legolas, until she hits the target. I am sure an accomplished archer such as yourself can beat the setting moon and the erosion of the mountains in teaching a young elf to shoot. Do not argue with me anymore or else I will change it to two targets. With two arrows. At the same time."

Legolas clamped his mouth shut.

"Well, now that we have cleared up this ahem… misunderstanding, here…" a familiar voice perked up. Gandalf cleared his throat and smiled at the three elves. "Prince Ciédron, I don't believe you have become acquainted yet with Lord Elrond's son, Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

Ciédron stiffened and turned slowly to face the ranger, who bowed respectfully to the elf.  Considering the leaves dotting his hair, and the order he just received to stomp grapes for his father, Ciédron found it hard to believe the ranger was not mocking his status. But if he was, he hid it well and so Ciédron, in an attempt to regain at least some amount of dignity, returned the bow.

"It is an honor, Lord Aragorn. Forgive me for not noticing your presence earlier. I'm afraid I was rather preoccupied…" He frowned and glanced at his father who gazed smugly at Ciédron. "If you would excuse me now… I have some… business I must attend to…" With his head held high, Ciédron strode proudly out of the throne room. Despite the occurrences of the past hour, the prince did manage to once again hold himself haughtily and gracefully (though his cheeks were still rather flushed).

Thranduil's smile faded as he watched Ciédron exit the room. Perhaps he was too hard on his older son. He did seem rather embarrassed. But he brought it upon himself – Legolas is a scamp, but Ciédron should know that by now and making a scene like he just did is no way to handle him – he only brings shame upon himself. He must learn to control his temper, or else he will make the same mistakes that I already have…

 As for Legolas…. Thranduil sighed. If only he would put his wits and talent to something more useful. Thranduil stiffened at this thought and noticed the wizard was observing him closely, a strange, knowing look in his eyes, as if he had just peered into his mind.  The king held his gaze.

Gandalf then stood up and made a show of yawning.

"Well, King Thranduil, as usual, this has been a most interesting day here.  But I believe the weariness of my journey has caught up with me. I am sure Aragorn is quite exhausted himself, though he will never admit it… If you don't mind…"

"Not at all, Mithrandir- Helione will show both of you to your rooms, and bring you some food and drink as well if you wish," Thranduil hastily offered and again, a servant materialized out of the shadows.  

Gandalf and Aragorn followed the servant out of the room. As they passed Legolas, the wizard winked and the ranger nodded and smiled gratefully. But before they could leave the room, Thranduil stopped them.

"Wait! Mithrandir, what was it you were going to say before? About what we must do?" he asked, not caring that Aragron and Legolas were now present.

The Istari turned and looked as if he were trying to remember something. "Ah yes…" he answered at last. "What must be done… well what must be done, need not be done just now, Thranduil. I do believe we can wait until morning, when we are all well rested. I believe we have suffered enough troubles for one day."

And with that the wizard left the room, with Aragorn and the servant close behind, before Thranduil even had the chance to press him further.

When the doors gently shut, silence engulfed the king and the throne room suddenly felt too big, while Thranduil himself felt rather small. Whereas the birches before seemed to shine with an ethereal glow, they now cast haunting, formidable shadows in the flickering torchlight, reminding Thranduil of how miniscule and insignificant he was when compared to the great trees that began to grow long before the first elves set foot on Middle Earth.  He collapsed again into his seat, seemingly unaware that Legolas had not yet left. 

Legolas again felt a pang of guilt as he watched his weary father fall into his chair.

"Ada?"

Thranduil looked up tiredly at his son, though his fury was now completely obliterated from his voice. Only weariness now laced his words. "Yes Legolas?"

Legolas hesitated and put his hand on one of the trees, searching for support. "Ada, I am sorry.  I am not blind to what Mirkwood is now facing. I know how you have lost countless nights of sleep over it, how worry constantly holds your heart hostage. It plagues my heart as well, Ada.  I feel the darkness surround us and it clouds my senses with ill omens. I know…." Legolas removed his hand from the tree and furrowed his brows slightly as he focused on his father. "I know it is not always apparent that I am sensitive to Mirkwood's ailments and I am sorry for that.  But I swear to you Ada, I will do all that is within my power to help Mirkwood… to help Middle Earth. I will fight for her Ada. I promise you, I will."

Thranduil gazed at his son intently as Gandalf's words echoed in his mind. If our children can retain but a bit of their mirth even into their adult years, it is a blessing indeed.

"Legolas, there is no need to apologize for not permitting the darkness of Middle Earth overtake you. I know you are not blind to it. I know how it haunts you. And I know you will make me proud one day by fighting against it, my son. You need not promise me the inevitable."

As he was speaking, Thranduil had risen out of his seat and walked towards Legolas so that they now stood face to face.  In a rare gesture of tenderness, Thranduil raised his hand to his son's cheek and spoke softly.

"It is your spirit I wish for you to promise me, Legolas. Do not ever allow darkness to drive out its song. If you promise me anything Legolas, promise me that. That you will never lose hope for a world that is better than this, not even in the darkest of battles, when all seems lost, don't ever stop believing in a world that ought to be. It will ultimately be the light inside you that will save Mirkwood, not your bow and arrow."

Thranduil's hand dropped to Legolas's shoulder and he could not help releasing a small chuckle.

"Though with the shooting skills Ciédron described to me today, perhaps I ought to place a higher wager on your bow."

Legolas smiled warily at this while Thranduil's face grew somber.

"You know why he is like this Legolas, don't you? He aches terribly for your brothers and sister and mother…"

Legolas gaped at Thranduil, "Ada! I do also!"

"Yes, of course Legolas, but you do not carry with you the same anger he does. Yet, he would sacrifice ten years' worth of sleep to train every Alasse in this wood to protect herself against evil. I know he is harsh…"

"Ada, you have no idea! The things he was saying…."

"…but he means well, Legolas." Thranduil firmly finished, hardening his stare at his son. 

Legolas knew this was a futile battle and deep inside, he also knew Thranduil was right about his brother. So he stopped and instead let out a sigh.

"You should get some rest now, my son. If Alasse is half as bad as you and Ciédron seem to believe she is, you will need it."

Legolas nodded, grimacing slightly as he remembered his daunting task for tomorrow. "Promise me you will sleep also, Ada."

Thranduil gazed sadly at his son. "I will try, but I cannot promise what I cannot be certain to deliver. Goodnight Legolas."

Legolas worriedly looked at his father and turned to leave. "Goodnight Ada."

***

"Gandalf?"

Aragorn nudged the wizard gently to get his attention after the servant had led them to their neighboring rooms.  Gandalf immediately stirred from his reverie and his head snapped up at the ranger who had followed him into his room.

"What? Ohhh… Aragorn, yes, I'm sorry, I fear I'm rather preoccupied…

"Gandalf, what news did King Thranduil have? What was it he was speaking of when he asked you what had to be done?"  Aragorn placed his hand on the wizard's shoulder, concern coloring his eyes for the worried Istari.

"Ah, Aragorn, I will reveal all to you in due time, that I promise… But for now, I wish only to rest. There is much to discuss, and much to think about. Be grateful I am giving you one more night of blissful ignorance."

Aragorn frowned. "Only a fool is happy to be ignorant, Gandalf."

"Then be a happy fool for one night Aragorn. For I promise you, such an opportunity will never arise again in your lifetime. Good night."

Knowing the wizard would not budge, Aragorn reluctantly wished him goodnight and retired to his room in hope that the morning would provide more answers.

***

Aragorn awoke early the next morning – if you could really call it waking, since he hardly fell asleep in the first place, so restless was his mind.  Unfortunately for the ranger's exhausted body he was no fool, and could not happily ignore the events unfolding around him.

As he sat up in his bed, listlessly sharpening his knife, he pondered the previous day's events, from his first step into the shadows of Mirkwood, to the final 'battle' between Legolas and Ciédron.  Thranduil's tired eyes, the map of Mirkwood, songs of Oropher, Legolas's story about the two brothers, Ciédron and Alasse staring in shock at the miraculous arrow…. Like a crowded picture show, one image after another occupied his thoughts, accompanied by Gandalf's previous words as they began their journey to Mirkwood.

You will find the Mirkwood elves to be intriguing creatures Aragorn.  Unlike the Imladris elves, they are hard and suspicious, yet many still retain the levity and inner light innate in all elves.  Perhaps you will even find an elven archer to travel with – they are most useful companions, I assure you.

But that is not the main reason we journey here, Aragorn.  I fear much of Middle Earth has grown complacent about the shadow because, with a few exceptions, most have remained for now relatively sheltered. But not Mirkwood. She is like a wind gauge. Through her we can estimate the power and growth of the shadow. Too many wish to simply close their eyes to Mirkwood's bane and hope it will remain there and not spread. This is a grave mistake…

With one last swipe, Aragorn completed his sharpening and held his knife up to the light, examining the glistening blade thoughtfully. Indeed, it is a grave mistake Gandalf, but not one I will make – that is a promise.

A loud knock on the door startled Aragorn from his thoughts and he swiftly replaced his knife into its sheath.

"Come in."

"Ah, good you are awake. You will join Thranduil and I for breakfast then?" the wizard cheerfully offered, his face revealing naught of the hours he spent pacing in his own room, muttering, and denying himself rest.

"I would be honored to, Gandalf."

An array of fruits, sweet breads, juices, and one sleep deprived king awaited the wizard and ranger at the long ebony table in the elves' dining area. 

"Good morning, you slept well I hope?" the king greeted politely.

"Aye." Gandalf and Aragorn both lied. 

"Hmm… As well as I have, I see." Thranduil responded under his breath, not one to easily believe any lie. "Legolas is on the archery grounds and Ciédron is out in the winery, so they will not be joining us now."

"They accepted their punishments then?" Gandalf grinned as he poured himself tea.

Thranduil shrugged. "They would be fools not to, for I do believe I let them off easy this time. But Mithrandir, let us move straight to more pertinent problems, besides my vexatious sons. You said it would be better to discuss this when we are well rested, but clearly none of us will rest until we have discussed this, so your suggestion is a rather futile one, don't you think?" Thranduil's firm, eloquent voice offered little room for any argument. 

Gandalf sighed, carefully setting down his tea cup. "Aye, I suppose it is…"

Thranduil cocked an eyebrow and his blue eyes darted to Aragorn. "And I am sure you did not only bring the ranger along for tours either?"

Aragorn stiffened. It was the first time since their initial meeting that Thranduil acknowledged his presence as something more than just another guest of a guest.

"Aye, King Thranduil. I am not only here for tours," he decided to answer on his own behalf before Gandalf could.

Thranduil nodded and leaned back in his seat. He put his hands together in front of him in an indication he was ready and waiting for Gandalf to speak.

Gandalf, exuding in his own inexplicable way as much nobility as Thranduil, took his time before answering the royal elf's unspoken demand.  After a slow sip of his steaming tea, he licked his lips, gazed musingly at Aragorn and Thranduil, and set down his cup.

"Thranduil, I have thought much about what you have related to me." The wizard's voice, before cheerful, but aged, now commandingly projected across the entire room. He quickly turned to Aragorn to briefly update him on his and Thranduil's discussion.

"Aragorn, the Nazgul have reoccupied Dol Guldur. In the battle against the ever strengthening shadow that trails them, elves are disappearing. We know not for sure what Sauron knows about the ring, though Saruman tells us it has passed to the sea. We only know that Sauron continues to search, and despite his failure to retrieve the One Ring, his power continues to swell… perhaps he is even breeding more to join with him…"

At this Aragorn squared his shoulders and leaned forward, placing down his fork, a slice of plum still dangling on its teeth.

"Breeding more Gandalf?" the ranger's voice was soft, but unflinching.

Thranduil answered. "Many elves have disappeared as of late with the return of the Nazgul. You know how the orcs were first bred, I assume Master Ranger. It should not surprise you if Sauron wished to expand his control over living creatures by continuing with such foul methods of increasing his minions."

"You believe Sauron is breeding an army then?" Aragorn pressed.

Gandalf looked sternly at Aragorn. "We did not say army, Aragorn."

Thranduil did not respond to Aragorn's assertion, but turned his eyes to Gandalf. "Think you it could be the Necromancer again?" he asked suddenly.

The Istari and elf lords had once before mistook the Necromancer as one of the Nazgul the first time Dol Guldur was occupied in 1100 in the Third Age, around the same time Thranduil's sons had died. Gandalf had discovered the Necromancer, a black magician with power over the spirits of the dead, was actually Sauron himself. Now Gandalf hesitated before answering Thranduil. The same thought had of course already crossed his mind.

"It is not the Necromancer, I am certain Thranduil, for Sauron has taken refuge in Barad-dur. But a necromancer is certainly possible…One would certainly be most helpful in controlling the spirits of murdered elves for Sauron's purposes, if that is in fact what has happened to those missing from your realm. In that case, they may not necessarily be used to breed orcs … Or perhaps they are being used to breed a new creature…" Gandalf debated to himself.

Aragorn shifted. "It appears little is known for certain, Gandalf," he spoke up heavily. "All we know is that Dol Guldur is reoccupied by Nazgul and Sauron has reoccupied Barad-dur. Everything else is merely hypothesis."

"And the ring has passed over the sea…" Gandalf added.

Aragorn surprised the wizard with a steely look. "We do not know that for certain Gandalf.  We only base that on the word of another."

Gandalf's eyebrows shot up at Aragorn's boldness. "But that other is Saruman the White Aragorn…"

"Aye, and I do not believe even a wizard is infallible. He may be mistaken – perhaps it is not probable, but it is not impossible and thus we cannot say we know for certain his words are fact," Aragorn reasoned.

Thranduil added, "And regardless of whether Saruman is correct or not, we know Sauron is strengthening."

Gandalf nodded slowly, pondering Aragorn's words. "Yes Aragorn, you are correct. For all our talk, we actually know very little about these recent dire events. Thus there is only one thing we can and must do, which I was going to suggest to Lord Thranduil last night, though now I propose it as more than a suggestion. We must seek the answers to these dark puzzles ourselves, before they come to us, for no doubt by the time they do, our fates will be grimly sealed.  This means exploring all areas of Mirkwood, including Dol Guldur."

Gandalf cleared his throat and continued. "Thranduil, I brought Aragorn because as you can see, as Lord of the Dunadain, no other is better suited for such a task." Gandalf rested his eyes on Aragorn. "Aragorn, if you would allow me, I request that you scout the area around Dol Guldur and other parts of the forest that have succumbed to the shadow in an attempt to ascertain what exactly it is we are facing."

"Gandalf, you need not ask me. I will do it." Aragorn quickly agreed.

Gandalf nodded and turned again to Thranduil. "I was also hoping that Aragorn would find a companion within your realm Thranduil, for it seems obvious that a wood elf should accompany him on such a task…"

Thranduil stiffened in his chair. His face tightened and paled slightly. "Aye, Gandalf… of course…"

Gandalf held up his hand and shook his head, not allowing the king to finish.  "Nay Thranduil, I wish for Aragorn to choose his own companion. It will be some days now before he should set off, so he will have some time to get to know a few of the warriors here."

Thranduil relaxed slightly. "Of course… Well, Aragorn, Mirkwood hosts some of the finest archers in Middle Earth. You will not suffer from lack of choices, I assure you."

Aragorn smiled faintly. "I do not doubt your word, King Thranduil."

"Very well then. It is settled, for now at least.  Now if you would excuse me, I should like to utilize the wood elves' library, if that is all right with you King Thranduil," the wizard said as he rose from his seat.

"Help yourself Mithrandir. You know you need not ask. I have some meetings myself I must attend right now. Aragorn, our palace is your home.  Explore or rest as you wish. There will be a feast tonight in honor of yourself and Mithrandir," Thranduil bowed slightly in response to Aragorn's own and followed the wizard out of the room.

Aragorn smirked to himself when he was left alone in the room. So 'perhaps you will find an elven companion' has turned into 'you will choose an elven companion.' How like Gandalf to spring this on me… He shook his head and decided to observe how Legolas's archery lesson was faring.

TBC

* The Season of Falling Leaves or Autumn (thank you Encyclopedia of Arda)

Ack! Ok, I know this isn't the best place to end this chapter, especially when I promised a duel…But that will definitely come very soon, promise!  But after that, I think I should stop hinting at the next chapters because I always seem to get caught up in something else & not getting to what I actually said I would write about….sigh, such a flighty mind I have.