Disclaimer:Sneaky squirrels squeak scary Sindarin sayings. (Lol, AlenorI wanted something different, but didn't have time. Now you have randomness on both my long stories!) They ain't mine.

AN:(Edited 5 April, 2010) Well, number 13 turned out very unlucky in the fact that I not only got grounded during the time when I should have been writing the chappy, but also that the chappy got touchy with me and I was forced to beat the resistance out of it with a heavy stick. Sorry it's so late, but enjoy all the same!

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Iladri'on spurred his mare to ever-greater speeds. He had stopped for the night only to give the beast some much needed rest. He himself had not slept, preferring instead to keep a vigilant watch for any pursuing creatures.

It had been a very stressful night.

Several times he had been alerted by a rustled in the bushes, and had leaped up, clutching the hilt of his sword protectively. The third time he had done this, he had cracked his skull on a low-hanging tree limb, and was forced to sit down rather heavily, clutching his poor head.

He became immensely happy for several seconds that no one had been there to see it. Then, as the silence closed in again, the half-Noldor began to think that maybe the laughter would not be so bad. At least he would have had company.

The rest of the night passed relatively uneventfully, and by the time the sun had peeked over the horizon, the elf had been packed and ready to go for nearly an hour. Only concern for his horse made him wait.

He quickly slung his pack over his shoulder and leaped atop the mare, urging her into a swift, distance eating canter that would later grow into a full out gallop.

Iladri'on pulled his cloak tightly around his shoulders and flattened himself along the mare's back, hoping to reach Imladris in the next three days.

The sun had reached the middle of the sky by the time the elf stopped for lunch and to water his mare. Sitting in the middle of the path, Iladri'on unwrapped a packet of lembasand started to nibble.

Suddenly a horse appeared out of nowhere, running full speed around the sharp curve of the trail.

Its rider cried out in surprise and alarm and the horse skidded to a halt, rearing uncertainly and snorting in annoyance at the puny creature before it. Its nostrils flared, as if to say, You are lucky, little elf, that my master is better-sighted than I. Or you would be down in the dirt with my hoofprints up your back!

Iladri'on scrambled to his feet as two more horses came around the curve, though slower and in more control than their comrade.

Two of the elves dismounted, and a smile grew on Iladri'on 's face as he recognized the newcomers.

"Elladan, Elrohir! Why are you so far from home?"

Elladan clasped the messenger's forearm in greeting. "We come to Mirkwood to learn of the fate of the realm."

Elrohir stepped forward, also smiling. "We thought you dead when you did not return, and Legolas decided to return to his home and see what has happened."

Iladri'on started, he had not realized that the horse that had nearly run him over had been controlled (if that) by the Prince of Mirkwood. He craned his neck around the golden stallion to see the prince, who had also dismounted, just on a different side.

Legolas came forward than, smiling abashedly. "Hello, Iladri'on. I am sorry I nearly ran you over. What on Arda were you doing sitting in the middle of the road?"

Iladri'on smiled back. "Well, I waseating, but I dropped my lembasand I think your stallion trampled it."

Further inspection revealed that this was true, the waybread having been crushed to crumbs and ground into the dirt by Astrod's flying hooves.

In apology, the trio sat to have lunch, replacing Iladri'on's lembaswith some of their own. Of course, the conversation immediately turned to what had happened in Mirkwood, and why Iladri'on had been delayed so long.

The half-Noldor told them of events as clearly as he could remember them.

"I don't understand why King Thranduil alerted the orcs to my presence, and in their own tongue no less!" he finished mournfully. "I would have thought he'd have been happy to see a friend!"

Legolas's smile had swiftly disappeared over the last few minutes, and now he looked positively frantic.

"Quick, we must go!" he cried on the completion of the tale. His companions looked at him in some alarm, hadn't he heard anything the past few minutes? Correctly reading the shocked looks, the prince replied, "Do you really think I can just stay here? I must go home, now more than ever! My people need help!"

Elladan leaped to his feet, catching hold of his friend and staying him. "What help will you be if you are captured too? Mellon-nin,you must come back with us… we can tell Ada what has been happening and he will know what to do!"

Legolas stared at Elladan coolly, and the twin felt that he understood just how much Legolas could look like his father. "Iknow what to do. My people need help now,not several days from now, as it would surely take to return to Imladris and decide what to do. Do not force me to return, for if I do, it will have to be bound and gagged."

Elladan matched his friend's stare for a second, then looked away. He knew the emotions running through his friend's mind, and he definitely knew how stubborn the Royal line of Mirkwood could be.

"Iladri'on, will you continue on to Imladris and alert Ada? We will go ahead and see what can be done."

The half-Noldor nodded shortly and swung up on his mare. "Be careful," he warned, then spurred the horse to the west.

Legolas allowed himself a short smile as he regarded the twins. "Truly, I did make a good choice when I made two friends such as you!"

They rode on a moment later, twice as determined to get to Mirkwood, and even less aware of the shadow that followed them.

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That very same day, they came upon the great gates of the Mirkwood Palace. They were shut, no body to hold them open. The twins were at a loss on how they were going to get inside, until Legolas simply traced a rune on one of the doors. Green fire followed his fingers, clearly illuminating the prince's pale face.

The gate swung open, and the fire was extinguished. The elves darted in, and Legolas gently closed the gate behind them.

"It is spelled to open at the specific touch of a member of the royal family," he explained to the twins. "Simple enough."

"Very clever," Elrohir said, intrigued. "Who—" Legolas clapped a hand over his friend's mouth.

"Hush! Look over there."

Elrohir's glance was directed to a squadron of orcs, sauntering nearby as if they had always been there.

Legolas was shaking with rage and fury; the creatures did not belong in his kindred's sanctuary! If the twins had not been there to hold him back, the prince may have attacked then and there.

"Be calm!" Elrohir hissed. "If they see you, your life will be forfeit! Or you will be imprisoned again!"

"You have no chance against such odds!" Elladan added, even more silently, because the foul creatures were suddenly listening, alert. He feared that they would discern where the noise was coming from, and he had no desire to go through Iladri'on's experience in the dungeons. Or worse, go through a new experience at the end of a blade.

Legolas's eyes still smoldered, but he nodded and relaxed somewhat. The twins loosed their hold on him, though still kept their hands loosely on his arms, not because they didn't trust him, but because they knew he needed the support.

Several seconds passed, and the creatures relaxed and moved on.

In the gathering dark, the elves made their move. Using every available shadow and hiding place, they made their way to the palace entrance. Legolas went first, lithe as a hunting cat, and the twins followed, identical shadows that seemed no more substantial than mist.

Under the cover of Legolas's muted indignant curses at the orcs, which would have been inaudible to any non-elven ears, the twins studied their friend,

"He is far too pale," Elrohir said, frowning. "We should not have let him come so soon."

"Would you have liked to try and stop him?" Elladan countered easily. "Such a thing as getting poisoned by a very rare toxin would not have deterred him. I don't think anything could discourage Mirkwood's prince once he has his mind set on something."

"Did you see his hands as he traced the rune? They shook, brother. I fear for him."

"And I as well," the elder twin admitted heavily. "However, I fear more for ourselves if we come between him and his goal!"

"Aye. We shall keep a close eye on him then."

Legolas had ducked into the shadows of the hall by that time, and the twins had to scurry to keep up… or the elven equivalent of scurrying at any rate.

Silently, for even here, in the beautifully decorated hall there were orcan guards, he motion for them to hurry. The guard did not seem to be particularly aware of his surroundings, and the half empty wine bottle next to him confirmed that there was little chance of being spotted.

All three elves however, had had long experience with the orcs, and knew that taking risks was not such a good plan.

They slipped along the wall, making their way stealthily to the far end of the hall. From there, they would descend to the dungeons. Legolas was of strong mind to see his father again and let the king know that his son was indeed alive and well.

Iladri'on had told them all that he had seen, and the prince had been greatly alarmed when the messenger spoke of the king. The half-Noldor had told them of the king's condition both before and after the strange incident, and his description had chilled Legolas to the bone. All elves know when another of their kind was close to fading, and, according to Iladri'on, the king had been in the final stages of death.

Legolas, always sensitive to feelings of guilt, would be buried under an avalanche of culpability. If he did not fade soon after of his own grief, he would be forced to live forever feeling responsible for his Ada's passing. Therefore, it was of utmost importance to find Thranduil quickly.

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The Mirkwood king slumped against the walls, limbs quickly going numb. It would happen very soon. Though his body was fast becoming unresponsive, his mind could still work, and work it did, fluttering through a vast multitude of memories.

They mainly consisted of Legolas, for the last sixteen hundred years, the prince had been Thranduil's pride and joy, a constant source of irritation and love. They had had so many arguments, much to the amusement of the rest of Mirkwood, who could clearly see the stubborn streak that ran deep in the both of them.

Thranduil remembered his worry when his son made up his stubborn mind that it was past time to join a patrol. He constantly feared that his son would be killed trying to protect his people. A stray orcan blade, a close melee with the spiders, an encounter with the darkness of Dol Gulder, which was relentlessly spreading… too many things could go wrong.

And yet, at the same time, he was fiercely proud that his son had such courage, even knowing the risk.

He remembered giving his son his first bow, and later, his knives. The awe and joy that spread across Legolas's face as he reverently handled the beautiful weapons had melted the king's heart even more. He began to wonder if it was worth it to let his son become a warrior, even if it meant giving up nights of sound sleep.

He remembered the sight of his son's face when he had done something… un-royal. Legolas had a particular face that appeared as if by magic, one crossed with both laughter and a little uneasiness at the thought of the scolding he was sure to get for dumping flour on the war-captain, putting frogs in the chief advisor's bed, or slipping a little sneezing powder in the chicken dish at dinner.

The memories came faster now, and he knew that his time was steadily running out. Legolas, being made captain of his own patrol, proudly showing his Ada some of his new-found skills. Legolas, running down the stairs, sliding down the banister into his Ada's arms on Yule-tide day. Legolas, covered in tree sap as a result of a prank-gone-wrong, the sulky expression fully expressing his discontent as his Ada helplessly roared with laughter, then giving up and laughing too.

Legolas… coming home gravely wounded with a near-frantic companion, spouting gibberish about how the prince had shoved him to the side in order to save his companion's life, and ended up taking the arrow for his efforts. Legolas, tears rimming his deep blue eyes as he spoke of the elf his patrol had lost, clearly feeling the guilt. Legolas, coming into adulthood in an ever-darkening forest, grief gracing his fair features as he thought, not of himself, but all the other elves that would have to suffer.

Legolas… dead….

The mourning of the kingdom, the mourning of the elves ay the loss of one they loved and would have died for.

Thranduil's eyes rimmed with silvery tears. The king sighed as his thoughts came back to the present. His son was dead, gone to the Halls of Mandos far before he had had time to truly live.

If anyone had died, it should have been him. Legolas had too much to live for. He had all the ages before him, and it had been cut short by a single arrow. A weapon that Legolas had crafted himself!

Thranduil looked up at the ceiling through dimming eyes. His mind took him back through time, before Legolas had made his decision to become a warrior.

The sun was shining, and Thranduil picked up his pace, eager to surprise his son. He ran swiftly around a corner and skidded to a halt in a clearing. He had dispensed with his royal robes for today, and he felt wonderful!

The trees whispered, Legolas was on his way. Quickly, he turned and smiled. Legolas stood at the edge of the clearing, blue eyes wide and curious as to why his father had called for him.

"Hello, ion-nin. Are you well?"

"Yes, Ada. What is wrong?"

"Nothing, Legolas. I have a present for you."

Thranduil smiled at the sudden eagerness as it swept across Legolas's face. He was too well behaved to jump up and down in glee, but Thranduil could clearly sense that that was indeed what Legolas wanted to do.

He tossed his son an apple. Legolas snapped out a hand and caught it easily, feeling its smooth surface come into contact with his skin. His expression changed to one of confusion.

"A- an apple?"

"Tis not for you!" Thranduil replied, mock-conscending. He turned and exited the clearing. Legolas was about to follow, when the wood-land king suddenly reappeared, leading a chestnut filly behind him. "Tis for her!"

Legolas nearly dropped the apple, so great was his astonishment. His confusion quickly turned to that of elation and he stepped forward, almost afraid that she would try to run. Instead, her little ears pricked sharply forward and she came to him, stepping lightly among the grass, her strong legs carrying her forward easily.

Legolas reached out a hand, and she nosed it gently. He grinned and stroked her neck, inspecting her well-muscled frame in delight. He presented her with the apple, which she took and munched contentedly.

He grinned and turned to his Ada, who was watching in amusement. "Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you!" He sprang forward and wrapped his father in a great hug.

Thranduil smiled and began to tell his son about the many different ways to train a horse.

He was reliving one of the happiest days of his life. The king smiled tiredly, unaware of the rattling of the door.