Author's note: So sorry about taking so long to update. I have been on an island for two 1/2 days and the week before that I was packing for the trip. No technology except a phone, and no WIFI made writing virtually impossible on the island! But this has also been the hardest chapter I have ever had to write, so that's partly to blame as well. However, I am confident that you will find that the wait was worth it. For those of you who were confused about what happened or why Thranduil behaved so strangely in the last chapter, see the end note of this chapter.

Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter: Nina, AraneltheSilvan, MariaJulietBituin, and guest(I am going to do a little deductive reasoning and say that you are TeenMuggle). I will catch up on responding to reviews, but I may not find every one considering all the mail I get everyday. But I will try. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter Nine: Error in Judgment

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

Thranduil awoke to a few quick raps on his door. Groaning, he pushed himself onto his feet and opened it to find a sight that stripped the air from his lungs.

"Bring him." Thranduil walked ahead over to his son's bed, watching intently as the peredhel gently set Legolas down. "What happened?" he asked tersely.

Elrond took note of the Elvenking's ramrod back and stiff shoulders, knowing that what he was about to reveal would be hard to hear. But he had no choice. He spoke gently, not wanting to fray the edges of the Elvenking's mind anymore than they already had been. "Legolas collapsed before I could catch him in time but there are no internal injuries, I am certain of this. He will have a headache when he wakes up and mild bruising, and for that, I couldn't be more disappointed in myself. I apologize for failing your son in this way," he lamented.

Thranduil was angry, but he knew he couldn't blame Elrond for following his orders. Legolas's injuries were on him, for if he were not feeling so weak, the king would have gone himself. "I am certain you gave it your best effort, Elrond," Thranduil said levelly, searching for lumps on his son's head. When he found a small one, he lowered him back onto the pillow with a sigh.

Elrond spoke abruptly, his foreboding tone causing an adverse reaction in the light-haired elf. "I was wrong. I was very wrong, Thranduil."

The Elvenking didn't turn from his son. "Speak plainly, Elrond, what mistake have you made?" he asked irritably. It was uncharacteristic for the elf lord to speak without precursor. Usually, his timing was impeccable and he never blurted anything out unless it couldn't be delivered any other way.

"I told you that my sons were not yet of age to handle the severity of the lash. I told you to spare them. But now I have come to see the error in such a judgment."

Thranduil was confused. Why was the Noldor bringing up corporal punishment again? And mentioning his sons in the same sentence no less. "Elrond, you are not making sense, perhaps you should take rest."

"No!" Elrond's tone softened. "I thank you for your concern, but I am well."

Thranduil couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You clearly are not. You are saying that you wish for your sons to be put to the lash when you yourself told me of the fallacies of such a decision."

"I know I did, but I have changed my mind," Elrond replied. "It pains me to say this, but after seeing how much torment they put Legolas through, it is only right that Elrohir and Elladan should be punished properly for this senseless act. Time in the dungeon is not good enough."

Thranduil stepped away from his son, coming to stand in front of the healer. "Elrond, I may have been angry and wanted to do so myself before, but now that anger has passed and I see clearly. Your sons swore to me that they had never meant to harm Legolas, only frighten him. And while I believe this deserves a harsher punishment than usual it does not deserve a beating."

Elrond freed something coiled from his robe and Thranduil recognized it immediately.

The Elvenking moved closer to the elf lord until they were face to face, leaving a small portion of room between them. "You cannot be serious!" Thranduil almost hissed. "The punishment for harming a royal is to be whipped till bloody. Twenty lashes. From what I have observed they are not of age to take such pain."

Elrond pointed towards the bed. "Look at your son, Thranduil. They frightened the poor child half to death and if you let them escape your wrath there is no telling what they will do to him next time. They must be taught this lesson, however cruel."

The dark-haired elf stepped forward towards the door but Thranduil put his body between them.

"Do not fight me on this, Thranduil," Elrond warned. "They are my children and mine to discipline however I see fit."

"You are right, they are your children," Thranduil acquiesced, and the elf lord nodded in appreciation. "Had you been in your realm I would not stop you, but this is Mirkwood and only the king enacts punishment here." The dark haired elf was now scowling at him. "And I say their father's judgment is flawed so they will be spared from this unjust fate." Thranduil crossed his arms, daring for the elf lord to challenge his decision.

"I am their father, not you. You have no right!" Elrond roared.

Thranduil spoke again, disgust in his voice as he leveled his gaze to the whip and then to the dark-haired elf. "I would rather cut off my own arm than use that thing on my child. There was a time you believed much the same, but you have changed. How can you even consider doing such a monstrous thing to your own flesh and blood!?"

"I have already done it."

Before Thranduil could say more, Elrond pulled out a white handkerchief from his robe and grazed it along the inner edge of the wicked tool. The pure satin morphed into a dark red before the king's very eyes. "You are right," he said. "They did not handle their punishment well, but they endured it bravely."

Up until now, Thranduil had been struck mute, but he gained the ability to speak and did so only a few inches away from the elf lord's face, his eyes darkening menacingly. "My son was right to fear you," he growled.

"He is a child and like all children he fears what he does not understand. Just like his father. You and your people fear The Shadow because you do not understand it. You do not understand the benefits it brings, the power."

"There is no power in darkness, only a false sense of security. Even now you are being drained, thrown away like every other fell servant." He paused. "You are right about one thing though, I did not understand what you have become until now. Now I see that the kind hearted healer of Imladris has not graced my halls, but an imposter."

Something shifted in the Elvenking's demeanor then. He was no longer an observer but a lion primed for an attack. "I will stop you before you hurt another living soul and keep you in my dungeons until you tell me what you did to my son. When you tire of the maddening stone and darkness you will tell me everything or I will loosen your tongue myself."

Thranduil didn't realize how much these words were going to hurt but shoved those feelings down, not wanting to give Elrond the slightest inkling that he was distressed. To Thranduil's surprise, tears came rolling down the elf lord's cheeks.

"I know you will, mellon nin."

Before Thranduil could utter another word a sword was thrust deep into his chest.

"Elron..." Thranduil collapsed backwards to the ground, taking in big heaving gasps as he clutched his chest, deeply fearing each one would be his last. He knew that his heart was punctured. There was no mistaking it. But if he could kill Elrond before he got to Legolas... Legolas... he needed to survive for Legolas.

"Do not bother screaming for the guards. They will not hear you." Elrond ripped the sword free, causing Thranduil to lurch upward with a groan.

Thranduil blinked back the haze and was able to make out Elrond standing above him, blood—his blood dripping from the sword held at his side as he mouthed the words that chilled Thranduil to his core: your son is next.

A guttural gurgle was the only sound of protest Thranduil could make before he knew no more.

The Noldor did not slow his pace even as he reached the palace grounds, expecting all the trees in the vicinity to start the hail of pinecones and nuts. Though if he had been thinking logically, he would have realized that the trees close to the palace had not seen their exchange in the garden and would only inquire as to the elfling's condition. However, panic and haste fueled the healer's legs and led him directly to Thranduil's chambers.

Once there, he made a few quick raps on the door and waited.

Elrond winced as he heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground hard. He contemplated barging in without permission in case the Elvenking somehow knocked himself out, but then a groan was heard, followed by the sluggish pounding of feet across the hard marble floors before the door opened slowly. Thranduil stood at the door, curiously staring at the being who dare wake him for all but a split second before his eyes found that which the elf lord carried.

"….Legolas!" Thranduil breathed, hovering his hand over his son's limp body.

"Calm yourself, Thranduil. Legolas is merely unconscious," Elrond soothed. "Though his pulse is slightly faster than normal, there are no injuries."

Thranduil gathered his precious burden into his arms without a word and set him gently on the bed as if he was afraid he would break. The peredhel came to stand beside him, but Thranduil drew his sword before he could get close enough.

Elrond's eyes widened in bewilderment. "I don't understand..."

Thranduil spoke calmly, giving no indication of the anger swirling beneath. "I let my guard down once, but never again. This is the second time you have returned my son in this state." One of the Valar had clearly given the king a second chance and he was not going to waste it.

"Thranduil, that is impossible. I have only just come to your chambers," Elrond replied, puzzled by the turn of events. It wasn't as if he had a twin. Well, one that was alive, anyway.

"Lies," Thranduil barked. "You told me you couldn't catch my son in time before he fell unconscious."

"Assuming that is true, he would have visible bruising at the base of his skull. Do you see such marks now?"

Thranduil lifted Legolas' head and felt beneath it for any lumps. When there were none he stared at the elf lord quizzically, doubting his own actions thus far. Could he have been mistaken?

"There are none, are there?" Thranduil didn't reply, so Elrond kept speaking. "I never allowed your son to fall. Nor would I ever. If I had to I would have thrown my own body down and allowed him to fall on me. It would not matter if a few bones were broken so long as your son remained unharmed." Elrond saw recognition and acknowledgment enter the once untrusting gaze of the Elvenking, But it all disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Thranduil, what are you doing?" Elrond questioned the distraught Elvenking that was digging in his robes, searching every pocket.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"The whip. I know you have it!"

Elrond took a step back, completely mortified. "What whip? Why do you think I carry something like that?"

"You beat your sons with it and it is drenched in their blood," Thranduil replied, still searching.

Elrond was not expecting those words; not in the least. His legs began to shake, the simple task of keeping his body upright now an arduous struggle, and a few seconds later he collapsed into the chair behind him.

"..Valor. No, I couldn't-" he rasped.

The shadow sickness could not have taken hold of him again. He left the branch back in Rivendell, safely hidden away in his study where no one could find it. Since arriving in Mirkwood, Elrond felt none of its affects, but with what Thranduil told him, he was now unsure that he was not still under control of that sinister force. Could he have done it?

"You are infected with Shadow sickness," Thranduil replied, as if clairvoyant to the peredhel's thoughts. "You could not control yourself."

Elrond looked perturbed. "I thought you said you could sense no darkness in me."

"I did, but now i'm not so sure."

Elrond ran a hand down his face, exasperated. "I want to see this for myself," Jumping to his feet, he left through the chamber doors, cutting the Elvenking's search short.

Thranduil did not go after him, knowing with certainty where the elf lord was heading and more importantly, that he would be back. Twenty minutes later, the door creaked open, affirming this.

Thranduil spoke first. "It would be in your best interest to produce the whip, wherever you have hidden it."

In one fluid motion, Elrond threw off his robes and tossed the bundle to him. "Search them." With that, he proceeded to strip off the rest of his clothes while the Elvenking dug through them, searching the garments that had even small folds to ensconce things behind, before sighing in defeat.

"It is not.." Thranduil averted his gaze. "I did not ask you to take off all your clothes, Elrond," Thranduil replied, tossing the elf lord his garments.

Elrond quickly dressed, though Thranduil found it odd when he spied his sword on the ground, the belt attached to it. Could Elrond possess another weapon? No, that was impossible for Thranduil had searched even Elrond's shoes and found nothing. Maybe Elrond opted for strangulation?

"You needed to be sure. I needed to be sure." Elrond replied mildly and drew abreast of Thranduil, carefully calculating the exact placement of his body.

The peredhel knew a secret about the Elvenking, one that no one in middle earth knew. After the dragon Smaug attacked, half of the king's body was burned beyond saving, including one of his eyes which clouded over with a smoky white haze, never to see again. Because of this handicap, the body compensated for it by giving Thranduil incredible peripheral vision in his right eye. But Elrond knew of a weakness; a blindspot. And if he stood within that small margin when the Elvenking's head was still he would not be seen.

Without hesitating, Elrond withdrew a small dagger from his sleeve and drew it across the Elvenking's palm.

In less than a second, the elf lord was on the ground, hands firmly grasped around his neck.

"You should have finished the job, Noldor!" Thranduil hissed, straddling the elf lord tightly to keep his arms from moving. Elrond did nothing, not even trying to struggle. It perturbed the king to see no fear in the elf lord's eyes and he wondered why, with his hands around his pounding jugular, did Elrond look so calm. "Do you have any last words before I finish you?"

After receiving a nod Thranduil loosened his grip just enough for Elrond to speak, warning him with his gaze that he better do it quickly.

"Thranduil, listen to me," he began, trying to get his throat to work again. "You are still in a sleep-like state. What I did was only to wake you from it, but it appears not to have worked. I believe you are reliving a vivid dream, brought on by the extreme exhaustion from lending so much of your energy to your son. And since you possess such a strong desire to kill me, in turn, I must have killed you in this dream." Elrond saw a flicker of doubt enter the Elvenking's murderous depths and he continued, taking notice of the direction his body was facing. "And I must have threatened your son."

Thranduil scoffed. "Am I supposed to be impressed? You were there, of course you know all of this."

Elrond swore under his breath. If he couldn't manage to convince Thranduil of his innocence very soon he was as good as dead. He scoured his mind for anything he could use to turn the tide. He smiled inwardly when he found it.. something Thranduil could not argue against.

"Thranduil, you said I... beat my sons. But when I visited them in the dungeon their skin was unbroken. Check with the guards if you do not believe me." Elrond saw the seeds of doubts beginning to sprout in the Elvenking's mind, and continued unabated. "Your son is unharmed, my sons are unharmed. Furthermore, I have not tried to raise a finger against you when I could just as easily have taken you to the floor instead. My reflexes may not be as practiced as yours, but I could have easily slit your throat or for that matter, your wrist without you knowing what happened until it was too late. That blindspot of yours is a troublesome thing, isn't it."

Thranduil contemplated on that for a moment and realized that Elrond was telling the truth. He could have easily killed him with that knife, but instead he was allowing Thranduil to pin him down, not giving so much as the slightest struggle. Even now Elrond's eyes were no longer fixed on his but closed, as if calmly awaiting an inevitable death at the king's hand or waiting to be set free. Calm. Elrond was the very picture of calm, almost infuriatingly so. All throughout their exchange, the peredhel's pulse never rose but stayed an even rhythm, denoting that everything he said could be the truth. But there was no way of knowing that everything uttered was the pure unadulterated truth. Unless...

"What did you do to my son?"

Elrond's eyes snapped open and a fire burned in them that had been dormant for centuries. "I do not have any idea! I.. swear to you on the life of my wife that I know nothing."

Thranduil released the elf lord's neck and picked himself off the floor with grace and ease. Images of golden armor and fire-bronzed skin assaulted the king's senses, causing all the hatred and anger that had been dwelling within him to be released all at once. When he spoke his tone was calm.

"I believe you."

"Thranduil, I-"

Then the dam burst.

Thranduil spun towards him, his features twisted in grief and anger. "OF COURSE YOU KNOW NOTHING! You have abandoned my son and this kingdom all to follow some whimsical whim of that foolish wizard Gandalf the Grey! But none of that matters! Not to you! You live in the land of peace, unmarred by ages of war and strife. I am alone in this fight against The Shadow that encroaches up my land and slaughters my kin every day in gruesome ways beyond my comprehension. Last midday one of the horses came back bearing her rider slumped over her back. An arrow was protruding from the rider's mangled back with a blood-soaked note attached, using the most flowery language to forewarn the King of the woodland realm that the spirits of his people would be crushed and molded into serving The Shadow. WAR is coming to my realm. My son may die and I have no idea how to stop it since I can't figure out what is wrong with him because I spend precious little time with him, relying on strangers to tell him bedtime stories or dry his tears from the numerous nightmares; nightmares from living in this oppressive DARKNESS all the time! I'm not surprised he can't sleep. I barely get any either and now I am having dreams of you murdering everyone I love, my family, my people. The only vestiges of this world that keep me from sailing to the Grey Havens and leaving this damned world and everyone in it to their DOOM! There are very few that still stand with me against the rising tide of darkness. You used to be one of them, a brother in arms that I could count on to shoulder the load with me, and now I am slowly being crushed under the weight of it because you have ABANDONED me all to sate a fear your DYING WIFE LEFT YOU!"

Thranduil covered his mouth, mortified with the acidic words he spewed. Elrond was unmoving, still lying flat on his back, but this time his hand was over his eyes.

Knowing no apology would be accepted, Thranduil strode back over to the bed.

Legolas was still unconscious, but at least he seemed peaceful through all the chaos. His son was so beautiful, taking a lot after his mother in the hair and the eyes in a way that was almost painful to see him so vulnerable. Taking his son's hand into his own unmarred one, he gently whispered into the little one's ear. "Please do not go where I cannot follow."

Thranduil tensed when his other hand was lifted. But relaxed when he felt the elf lord's presence beside him and the unmistakable sound of silk tearing.

Thranduil allowed Elrond to work in peace, his eyes never leaving his son. He thought about how Legolas would react if he knew Elrond was so close to him but silenced the thought before it took root, wanting to save himself from the mental screams. He just couldn't hear them right now... not after almost losing his son in that horrid nightmare. He thought back to his own poisonous words and inwardly winced. Elrond did not deserve the jab about his wife. He was just so angry with him, even after so many decades. Thranduil had thought that anger had cooled, but it apparently hadn't.

"I apologize."

"You are right. I have been afraid, afraid of leaving this world like she did and abandoning my children. That is why I have stayed, why I have walled myself inside my kingdom. Because I am afraid each time I leave my children it will be the last I ever see of them. I thought if I took up safer work I could prolong my life for my children. I couldn't bear telling my wife of my failure and seeing the profound disappointment in her eyes. The funny thing is, she likely hates me more than you do for abandoning Elrohir and Elladan to their grief."

"No, do not say that," Thranduil said firmly. "You did what you could for your sons while grieving."

"I could have done more."

"True. I do not know of a parent who has been able to say otherwise," Thranduil replied. "But you tried. After Nariyath died I closed myself off from the world and left my son to deal with his grief alone. That is something I will always regret."

"This life is full of regrets."

None of them said anything more for a few minutes. Then, Elrond spoke again.

"I promise you, Thranduil that I will not rest until I find the source of your son's fear. If that source is indeed me, I will try all the more make this right."

Thranduil spoke, enmity still slightly infusing his voice. "First tell me what happened."

Elrond noted the Elvenking's still, rigid posture and knew that he was a hairs-width away from being thrown to the floor again. Whether Elrond liked it or not, he was now traversing a frozen body of water that was already cracked in many places. He would need to tread lightly or that ice would break and he would plunge into the icy depths.

Taking an inaudibly deep breath, Elrond spoke.

Author's note: Elrond may need to move back to Imladris after telling the Elvenking he was responsible for his son falling unconscious. Good thing Elrond has his sword back. :P Did you ever doubt Elrond's innocence regarding the twins?

Chapter note: I know some of you, if not most of you were disappointed in Thranduil after the previous chapter. In truth, I was hesitant to write him that way but I soon realized that Thranduil could not have acted any different. Let me explain... He needed to asses the sanity of the twins, which is where all the short simple questions came in. But those questions could not too complex for them to grasp or too plentiful while in the compromised state or they may not understand what was asked of them and develop a sense of ease that nothing had happened to them yet. The punishment, in particular, was to hopefully get the twins out of their mental rut more so than it was recompense for their actions.

Some of you also may be wondering what Thranduil did to the twins, so I will briefly tell you. When he raised his blade over Elladan's hand, he shifted it before it fell so it would strike the table near his hand. This made Elladan truly believe that Thranduil had cut off his finger and he felt ghost pain- pain but with no real causation. It was all in his head. This only worked because Elladan perceived Thranduil as being merciless. If Thranduil had done more interrogating the twins would have been less on edge, but Thranduil needed them to fear him.

Next update: an indeterminate Friday (Yep, going one last trip)