A/N: Okay, so even though I planned on releasing this chapter on Friday, I finished editing and writing it today and thought, what the hay, I'll post it now! So you get a new 8k word chapter ahead of schedule.

A big thank you to mystarlight for getting this story to a whopping 100 reviews! Your comments made my day!

Furthermore, I am deeply honored by everyone's continued support and I hope that I will continue to be deserving of it. Though I have seen that many of you have not caught up on this story due to the long hiatus, I do hope that you come back to this story one day so you can enjoy it in its entirety. I will be posting some new stories here after WOA is finished, and you can be sure that I will start cranking out many more after, so don't miss out!

Anyway, please enjoy!

Chapter 22: Fools, An Argument, and a Crescent Moon

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

When the Elvenking arrived at the stable, he slipped from the stallion's back and took off its riding tack, leading the animal into its place and closing the door. A glance to the left told the Sinda that Legolas was not there. The horse was already in its stall and both the tack and saddlebag had been removed. Thranduil was perfectly aware of the reason for this though. In fact, it was planned. Thranduil had purposefully allowed Legolas to ride on ahead so that when the king reached the stables Legolas would be long gone and his saddlebag left unattended.

Thranduil found the item—slumped over the stall door across from his own— and moved to inspect it. Unable to reign in his curiosity a moment longer the silver haired elf lifted the top flap with haste, exposing the contents inside. The usual items were there; food, medical supplies, a rollaway bed, and of course flint and a small pot for cooking. All of these items were normal and nothing was among them that seemed out of the ordinary. Further confused, Thranduil was about to close the bag when he caught sight of something white poking out from the bedroll. As the elf drew closer he could see that it was a porous material; a bandage. The Elf pinched the visible edge of it and pulled it free, his face ashen as he beheld the blood soaking them. There were multiple bandages, and not all were the same.

Legolas had told him that he was not injured. Of course the Elvenking knew better than to take his son's word regarding injuries at face value. After all, Thranduil had been left in the dark about the recent sparing ones. Who's to say Legolas was not hiding yet another injury from him. That was the way of things now, after all. Legolas would rarely be open and honest about his injuries, and when pressed, the elfling opted to use the 'I'm fine' line even if he was not. Only if his son was in dire need of medical treatment and the injury was too much to handle on his own would the king be notified. And usually it was by the healer's messenger informing him that his son was wounded and requested his presence. But Legolas had not always been this way.

Thranduil remembered a time when a much younger Legolas would burst in the room in distress, tears streaming down his face as he conveyed what ailed him. Thranduil would do his best to comfort his child and try to allay the elfling's worries as much as he could, accompanying Legolas to the healers for treatment and remaining by his side however long it took. At the time, Thranduil didn't think that things would ever change, and for 100 years they didn't. But then his son decided to take up training to become a member of the Mirkwood patrol. And everything changed.

Thranduil reigned in his thoughts and focused his mind on the present moment. Legolas was not injured. He could not be. As soon as the Sinda suspected such he kept a very close eye on the elfling. Legolas may not have been a child anymore, but he was not as good at hiding his pain from his father as he may have thought. Besides this, the ride back would have been hard to take with any injury requiring bandages and it would have alerted Thranduil to any that Legolas may have been trying to hide.

Thranduil felt another pang of guilt regarding the rough treatment of Elrond, and brutally severed that thought before it could take hold. Legolas was his foremost concern right now.

Thranduil examined the bandages more closely.

The Elvenking noted the silk fabric of the makeshift-bandage. It was Elrond's. More accurately it was the strip of cloth that Elrond had torn from his robe in order to bind the king's wound. But what was it doing there? Unless… Thranduil lifted his hand to eye level and noticed several things. The bandages had been changed. The patch of green that he could see through the bandage was clearly herbs. Elrond had not had time to fully tend to the wound, only bind it. It was clear now that Legolas had tended his wound and likely used the torn fabric from his tunic to aid in doing just that. But would that make Legolas upset? Why was his son upset? And more importantly, why wasn't he sharing his emotions?

Thranduil walked out of the stable, his mind swimming with probable reasons. He needed to find Legolas.

Legolas was irritable.

He didn't know what he hated more about this day. Though tending to his first wound had been pretty up there, Legolas realized that he wasn't half as upset about that as much as his father lying to him about the injury in the first place. To top it all off, he had left him alone to fend for himself and to defend the both of them against enemies which the prince could not even fathom, making the two hours he sat there alone all the more terrifying and almost more than he could take.

Thranduil had been right to forbid him from venturing into the forest. Though Legolas had felt relatively at ease at first being at the forests edge, once he came to terms with the situation it very quickly turned into anxiety and then to full panic. To make matters worse, Legolas had never received any empathy from his father regarding what the twins had tried to do to him. Did he not care?

Perhaps the king was just too exhausted to remember.

If that was true then why go riding? Thranduil certainly seemed to be awake for those few hours they rode together. Why not tell him then? Or better yet when they stopped to rest? Granted, Legolas had not remembered the incident until an hour into his watch, but Thranduil was a king and a father that had never before forgotten to ease his worries or soothe away terrible experiences. Did this experience not warrant that?

Elrond had said that the twins were put into the king's hands to punish. It was beyond wrong to think that Thranduil did not follow through with it, but Legolas had not witnessed or heard any mention of their punishment. What if his father intended to punish them but forgot? No, that seemed far fetched considering the severity of the crime, Legolas realized. The attempted harm of a royal, though less severe than actually doing harm to one, was still a punishable crime. If the Elvenking were too exhausted to dole out the punishment himself then the king would have appointed someone to complete the task in his stead. In keeping with this, Thranduil could have forgotten to speak to him afterward. Surely that was possible, right?

Legolas glared at the door, a terrible idea forming in his head. There had been several mentions of the twins throughout the day. Surely one of them was capable of jogging the king's memory. What if Thranduil indeed did not care to mention it? It had been several days, after all. Perhaps it wasn't as important as the safety of Lord Elrond and the twins. As he thought about it, Legolas realized that nothing severe had really happened to him. The twins only succeeded in scaring him, not maiming. Though the tremendous fear Legolas had felt still lingered in his mind.

Legolas blinked away the tears that sprang up at this thought, and unbidden, a far more terrible one came to mind. What if the twins had only pretended to travel into the forest and they were really laying low until they could catch the prince alone and take their revenge?

Legolas shook himself.

No, that was highly unlikely. If the twins had planned on staying in Mirkwood they would not have taken their horses with them. But what prevented them from coming back? The guards? They mostly patrolled the Halls and its entrances and exits. There were still some places left unguarded, such as the stables, archery fields, and any wide open area a good distance from the palace. The trees nearest to their home could serve as an excellent vantage point and allow one of the twins to swiftly tackle anything from below without being detected. One of them, Legolas realized in horror, knew how to climb the trees.

Was it possible to ever feel safe again? He could no longer rely on his father to keep him safe, that much was evident from last time the prince had needed rescuing from the twins when they were attacking. It wouldn't do if Thranduil was stuck in a meeting with foreign diplomats the next time Legolas needed him. The prince realized that he should not be relying on his father so heavily. But was he really? Legolas mostly handled problems himself, only rarely needing assistance from anyone. It was not wrong to need his father's help from time to time. But on the other hand, that help had not come when it was most needed lately. Perhaps his father had too many burdens to shoulder. Perhaps I am one burden that my father can no longer shoulder without the aid of his Queen, Legolas thought, and the memory of his deceased mother brought tears to his eyes that he could not stop.

"Naneth, I miss you so much," Legolas whispered brokenly, clutching his chest and wincing at the sting of pain her memory brought.

What more could the darkness take from him? It had already succeeded in ripping a piece of his heart out. Would it claim the other pieces in time?

In… and out…. In and out. Legolas breathed heavily, his fists clenched in rage. During the watch, all of these thoughts and fears from the past few days and even as far back as a few centuries came rushing in, the magnitude of them surprising the prince and forcing him to shut out all of it. All emotion, all thoughts—everything that served as a distraction— to be dealt with later. And now that the prince was home, safe in his room, everything that Legolas had hidden away and buried deep down was clawing its way to the surface. And Legolas could hold it back no longer.

Legolas climbed onto his bed, sunk to his knees, fell face down into the pillows, and screamed.

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

The stables were built in the vicinity of the palace in case the royals ever had need of a quick escape or a speedy access to a means of transportation. The short distance from the stables to the palace could be covered in a five minute walk or a two minute run.

Thranduil dug in his heels and came to a halt outside the twin doors, which opened without prompting. Of course the doors themselves were not acting independently. They were neither alive nor sentient, requiring another force to act upon them in order to create movement. Though in the king's hast, Thranduil merely noticed the doors, not the guards that stood by them and opening them to allow their king entrance.

The Halls were passed in a blur, everything except a certain room becoming unimportant and unnoticed. Finally the Elvenking had arrived at the correct location. The guards silently beheld their king, knowing from their ruler's demeanor that the Elvenking was not in the best of moods. They began to wonder the reason for his hesitation but did not allow it to go further than that, knowing their place.

Thranduil stood frozen in place, paralyzed with indecision. He was unsure if he should bother his son. The child clearly wanted to be alone, and yet, his paternal instincts were screaming at him that something was very wrong. The irony was not lost on him the last time he had stood outside his son's door there had been something seriously wrong. In fact, that realization was slowly chipping away at the Elf's resolve to continue standing there outside the door and after a few more minutes the last remnants of that resolve crumbled and the Sinda raised his hand and knocked.

"Go away."

Thranduil noticed the strained tone, and spoke in a matter-of-fact-manner. "I only wish to talk, Legolas."

"I do not wish to speak with you right now."

"Legolas, you are clearly upset about something. Perhaps if you tell me what it is, I can help you."

The Elvenking grew hopeful when he heard the soft thud of footsteps approach the door. A moment later it slowly opened, revealing his son, though his heart ached in sympathy when he noticed the remnants of dried tears. The king had not been expecting Legolas to mouth the next words.

'It is you that I am upset with.' "Please leave, ada. I desire to be alone."

With that the door was shut in the Elf's face before he could respond, leaving the Sinda to further ponder upon what he could have possibly done to upset his only son. Evidently, Legolas was feeling generous enough to spare Thranduil the embarrassment of the guards overhearing and left those words unspoken. Though they were still not expanded upon either, which meant that Legolas was angry as well as upset. Thranduil still did not have a clue as to what he could have possibly done wrong and from the looks of things an answer would not be forthcoming anytime soon.

Reluctantly, Thranduil turned on his heels and headed for the office. It had been several days since the Elvenking had appointed his replacement to take charge of all the affairs of the realm. If not anything else, the Sinda was very curious how they were managing.

As Thranduil opened the door, the sight that reached him made the king both wince and smirk internally. His replacement was slumped over the desk, raven hair slightly unkept and falling into their face, which was tilted toward the hand weakly grasping the quill—while the other—grasped his other hand at the wrist to support it as the elf marked the parchment under his chin.

Thranduil resisted the urge to make a loud noise and startle the poor ellon off the chair he was perched on. Because, while normally Thranduil didn't think that way, the week he was having was driving him to seek out distraction and entertainment, even if it was somewhat at the expense of others.

But knowing who this elf was, Thranduil settled for softly clearing his throat.

The sound, though almost as quiet as a whisper had been enough to make the seated elf flinch violently and look around with startled wide eyes before recognition broke through the momentary panic. The elf calmed, straightening his back and trying to appear as if he had not held the previous position for too long.

"My Lord, you have returned," the elf said, noticeably relieved.

"Yes, it would appear that I came just in time, going by the high stack of paperwork," Thranduil said levelly, not fooled by the calm demeaner.

The elf in question folded his hands, setting them on the table. "I know that I have said this before, but I do not know how you keep sane when you have to deal with these people on a daily basis," the elf grumbled, pointing to the stack of documents. "So many people are asking the king to weigh in on neighborly squabbles or asking what the best seasons are for planting flowers or growing vegetables in their garden."

"I cannot speak for the neighborly squabbles but the Sinda are the closest to the changes of the elements. It is only natural that people should ask for our input with matters regarding the changing of the seasons."

"I guess," Falien conceded. "But asking me to pick a side in an argument regarding where the laundry should be placed to dry is too much. One side believes it should stay hanging on a line over their garden to water the crops. While the other, argues that it would be unseemly for their undergarments to be hung near to where their food grows and wishes it to remain where it is. But where it is just so happens to be over the dividing line that separates their two properties. The one in violation of the property line wants a wall to be built between them so that they do not have to see one another for all eternity. But I'm not done. The families of both neighbors have requested that another well be dug in that area so that they do not have to walk the short distance to the town square in order to get water. But the epitome of selfish requests falls to one elf who is requesting that two more stories be added to their house so that they can spot any orcs approaching their side of the village border. The elf did not mention anyone else, except a purported incompetent elf who currently stands watch in one of the watchtowers in the village."

"Did they give a name? Perhaps the matter is worth looking into."

"No name was mentioned, only a description of their person that filled nearly an entire page. I read through it all but by the end found no mention of the reason for such an accusation other than frequenting a tavern in Bree lately. Either this elf forgot to add more to their statement, did not care to, or they could not think of a better reason. All of these are viable options, though I think the latter is more viable than the rest. Furthermore, their descriptions do not match any of the guards that stand watch near the western border. In fact, they didn't match any of them."

Thranduil folded his hands behind his back, pacing the length of the small room. Then after a few minutes, the king stopped and turned toward Falien, speaking. "If this elf is demanding that an elf is capable of being intoxicated by the weak brew from men and thus unable to perform his duties, then you may be right. I think we can consider the matter dropped since there is no evidence to support their claim."

The Falien sighed heavily. "All this goes to show that even elves are not above acting the part of selfish fools. If these elves were thinking about anyone other than themselves they would realize that we cannot afford to expend our time nor our resources on trivial disputes—that could be used to help those who have lost their homes in the recent bombing."

Thranduil couldn't disagree. "Indeed, we are not perfect."

"That we are not." Falien agreed. His tone took on a more pitiable quality. "I can't decide what aches more, my head or my hands!"

Thranduil chuckled. "It helps if you can write with both. That way it gives the other a chance to rest. As for the people, if a document seems as if it is not worth reading about a third of the way through, it probably is not and should then be thrown into a discard pile to be sent back with all the others."

Falien inclined his head. "I will keep your advice in mind, though I do not think I will ever be able to write with both hands. If you don't mind me asking, how long did it take you to learn?"

"It took no time at all. I was born with the ability," Thranduil replied simply, stating fact rather than boasting.

Falien looked surprised, and then nodded. "If our Elvenking is truly so talented then it seems that the right elf is king," he ended jokingly, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Thranduil played along. "Was there ever any doubt in your mind?"

Falien dipped his head in a show of silent contemplation before raising a finger in the air. "Well yes, there is one thing. Admittedly, after the 48th hour I was beginning to believe you had abandoned me to this heavy work for another few days. I accepted this, knowing how hard you work every day. It is only natural that you should want a break from it all from time to time. But this is the longest that you have ever asked me to run things in your stead. I kept thinking to myself why it had to be me."

"You know very well why," Thranduil replied. "Do I really need to remind you?"

"If you would be so inclined." Falien placed his hand on his breast and bowed his head in a regal manner.

Thranduil realized Falien was seeking some reconciliation, and after all he'd been through, he would willingly give it. "Very well. I ask you to handle these matters in my stead because you are the only one in these Halls that thinks as I do. You are invaluable because of this reason and I have known you the longest of anyone here. You are the only one that I truly trust, Falien."

Falien smiled knowingly at the compliment. "And it is a privilege and an honor to serve you as always, but when I initially accepted this post I had not known what I was getting myself into."

Thranduil's lips twitched. "You are the advisor to the King. Did you think that the job would be easy?"

Falien flexed his wrists, wincing when the action pulled at the muscles in his strained hands. "No. Just less painful," he added.

Thranduil sympathized with him, knowing the feeling all too well. "A little pain comes with any job you do well."

Falien scoffed at this.

Thranduil approached him, holding out both his hands, palms facing up. "Stand up and give me your hands," he said smoothly.

Falien did so, eager for the ache in his joints to be lessened by whatever means necessary.

Thranduil grasped both hands at the palm and looked up at his advisor. "Now you must release all tension in your hands. Let them rest limply in my own."

Falien did so, wondering what the king had in mind.

Thranduil said nothing further and gave both hands a firm downward yank. He repeated this multiple times, causing a chorus of pops to sound from the ligaments as well as a small surprised gasp from his advisor. Then the king released them.

"How do they feel now?"

Falien flexed his hands and then met the king's gaze. "As if they are almost brand new! How is this possible?"

Thranduil spoke. "Sometimes overusing an appendage can cause the ligaments to lock in place and make moving them difficult or painful. When I asked you to relax your muscles it caused the ligaments to unlock temporarily in order for them to be loosened further and more permanently from the snapping motion you saw."

"That is very interesting. But how did you come across the technique? Another ability you were born with?" The advisor questioned playfully.

Thranduil grinned. "Not at all. Actually my father taught me. Whenever we had to spend late nights doing paperwork together he would often use the technique on me because my hands were not accustomed to the work as his had been. I was often able to continue for many hours afterward with no trouble."

"I do not doubt this. I feel as if I could go another few hours myself." The advisor shortly realized that he had misspoke and opened his mouth to correct the error. But it was too late.

Thranduil smirked internally, eyebrows rising in mild surprise. "Oh? Then by all means, do not let me stand in your way."

Falien held up his hands in a placating gesture, stepping forward a step. "Tempting though your offer may be, I cannot in good conscience deprive my king of the joy and fulfillment that the work brings a moment longer."

Thranduil gave a wry smile. "How very thoughtful of you."

Falien grinned. "Anything for my king."

Thranduil glanced to the pile of documents on the desk and posed a question. "I know you were not here doing paperwork the entire day, not with the recent attack on the village. How many audiences were there?"

All traces of mirth faded and the advisor took on a serious expression once more. "Many."

"Did they go well?"

"Yes, they went well. Mainly the Silvan's were inquiring about repairs and how long it will take before some of them can go back to their homes. I told them that it would be several weeks until their homes were ready and to be patient and stay with their neighbors until the damage is repaired. Some, however, asked me how the attack went undetected and who could have orchestrated it."

"And what did you tell them?"

"That we did not have a good answer but suspected that emissaries of the Darkness were to blame, such as orcs or goblins. As for the former, I could not tell them how the attack went undetected because that is an aspect of which all are unaware of for the moment."

"Indeed, that is the aspect which irks me the most. Did you mention anything else?"

Falien's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You mentioned that we suspected that emissaries of Darkness were to blame, but neither orcs or goblins are capable of devising such a plot on their own. Their will is tied to whomever commands them and they have no choice but to mindlessly do the bidding of their master. I suspect the Witch King's hand in this."

The advisor tilted his head in quiet contemplation before speaking. "But why would he trouble himself to attack only one residence when he could have just as easily taken out the entire village.. or for that matter, these Halls?"

"Perhaps it was a surgical attack devised to create a feeling of unease in our people. You know as well as I that we rely heavily on the families of that village to give us children that are willing to be trained for battle. If something were to frighten them away to live elsewhere, then our supply of new soldiers would soon run dry and this kingdom would be vulnerable to attack. As it is more than 50 elves die per week patrolling the forest. These are my best and brightest, mind you; elves trained since birth to fight—and yet they still do not manage to survive the majority of the orc and spider attacks that are only growing more frequent."

"From where do you believe this attack will come? Do Guldur? Angmar? Surely we cannot believe the threat of a few orcs. There has been no activity reported in these places for the last 100 years. Even if there is an army in Dol Guldur with plans to attack Mirkwood, do we not possess enough force to be able to withstand such an attack? After all, the last war was a severe blow to the orc population. Surely they have not been able to amass enough force in so little time."

Thranduil listened to all that was said, and when the advisor finished, began speaking. "There are currently four garrisons left, each with 12,300 soldiers. That brings the total force to 49,200, and 20 percent of them are the Silvan elves from the village. Given what I have just told you, if we were to be cut off from that resource, how long do you think we could survive before those numbers dwindled to only a few thousand. A few centuries? An age? Whatever our force, if it is not replenished, how long do you think we will survive the onslaught? We have no way of knowing if the written threat should be believed or not. But even a chance of war is something that should be given careful thought and consideration, not discarded and forgotten as the ages of peace pass us by.

Thranduil brought his hands behind his back, folding them. "But this is information only for our ears. If the villagers knew of the full danger that presses upon us we could incite a panic. You saw the way trained soldiers reacted when the body of one of our spies was returned to us tortured and mutilated. Did they seem calm and controlled to you?"

Falien knew well of what the Elvenking spoke, having been there to witness the monstrosity. The horror and memory of it had been engrained upon his mind and it would never fade. "No, they seemed very afraid and lost," he replied distantly.

"And knowing this, how do you think untrained elves who have never seen battle would react?"

"Their reaction would be far worse," Falien replied firmly. "I believe it is as you said. That it would prompt many of them to leave the realm and take their families with them."

Thranduil inclined his head. "That is precisely why we must continue to shield them from the reality of things and do our best to anticipate the enemy's next movements. For now, we must wait for our spies to gather more information before any action is taken regarding the fortress. If there is any evidence of an impending attack, then we will prepare for one."

The advisor nodded. "I believe prudence is a good strategy to employ for the moment, but will we not deal with the crisis at hand?"

"The possibility of that endeavor remains to be seen," Thranduil replied. "I have been giving some considerable thought to it and have found that there are only two ways an attack of that kind could have gone unnoticed, but both are paths that lead nowhere. I have already received word from the Captain of my guard that none of the soldiers shirked their duties that night and all were present and accounted for at the time of the bombing. There was also no suspicious activity reported, leading me to arrive at the only feasible conclusion. I believe we have a traitor in our midst."

Falien was silent for the longest time, then he spoke. "If there is a traitor as you suspect, then why haven't we found any trail, any piece of evidence?"

"Perhaps we have not been looking in the right places," Thranduil murmured.

"Perhaps our fault lies in the question," Falien offered.

Thranduil crossed his arms. "Explain."

Falien folded his hands behind his back and began to pace, speaking in a controlled tone. "No suspicious activity was reported at the time of the bombing. Perhaps that is because there wasn't."

"We already know this. How does this information help us?"

The advisor thought for a moment, and then responded with, "It eliminates one option and forces us to look beyond a narrow perspective. Tell me, was anyone seen entering the village?"

"No, I have already investigated that line of inquiry. No one was seen entering the village that night."

Falien's brow furrowed. "No one was seen entering the village, but was someone seen leaving it?"

"I am afraid the answer is still no. All villagers were questioned separately, as well as the guards posted in the watchtowers. No one saw anyone leave at that time."

Falien spun around. "You said no one saw anyone leave at that time, but perhaps someone left a few days or a day before and did not return."

Thranduil thought about it. "Even if such an occurrence did happen, what purpose would it serve? A bomb must be detonated before it can be of any use, and by not returning, how then could it be activated? Besides this, how could anyone smuggle a bomb into the village in the first place? All shipments and packages are thoroughly examined before they are admitted inside. Surely an explosive device could not go unnoticed."

"And yet, somehow one made its way into the village. It's as if it just appeared there by magic!"

Thranduil spun around, near elation on his face. "Perhaps that is how it was made to appear," the Elvenking offered enthusiastically.

"I do not follow."

Thranduil paced while speaking. "Allow me to explain. If you wanted to pass through a gate but did not have the key, what would you do? Keep in mind that you desire for nothing to be destroyed inside the gate, including the gate itself and you do not want to alert anyone to your presence. How would you then go about gaining entrance?"

Falien thought about it, and then replied, "I would go to someone who could make me a key."

"Ah, that is correct for that situation, but what if the key did not appear to be a key? What if it wasn't a key at all in the objective sense?"

Falien frowned at this. "Do you mean to say that someone acted as the key?"

"I do not know for certain. It is only speculation at this point, but the Witch King has been known to force others to do his dirty work. He would have promised someone a great reward upon their completion of the deed, and yet I cannot believe that an elf could so easily be turned with only the promise of gold or other riches. Even the most self centered of our race can not be bought so cheaply. No, whomever committed this atrocity would have had to hold a secret vendetta against the people of this realm or the Crown, and appear normal and unsuspicious to any passer by."

Falien rubbed the back of his head. "I have no idea who that could possibly be."

"Neither do I, but at least we have a starting point for an investigation." Thranduil waited a beat before continuing. "You have done well these past few days, Falien. And I thank you for your insights into this matter."

The elf gave a small proud smile at the compliment. "I take it that I am now relived of my duties now that you are back?"

Thranduil heard the desperation and hope that Falien tried to hide. "That is correct. Go and rest. I will take over from here."

Falien stood and bowed before his King.

Thranduil spoke. "You may rise. Thank you for your hard work, Falien, it is much appreciated."

The Elvenking watched the elf leave the room more quickly than was characteristic, and then turned around toward the desk.

Thranduil shook his head and smiled. Falien really was one of a kind. Unlike the members of his council, age had not turned him into a curmudgeon that could no longer find joy in the little moments or laugh at himself from time to time. Most importantly, they had established a bond of trust with one another and unlike his council, Falien did not tell the king what to do at the start, but instead asked for his input on matters. Only when they completely disagreed did Falien offer his advice but never in a way that felt as if Thranduil was merely a puppet seated upon a throne. Thranduil had the power to completely ignore anything that his advisor put forward. That was a privilege that he often missed when dealing with the council and all their humdrum. When all members were unanimously decided on a decision, the Elvenking had no choice but to obey it or he would be de-throned until he did so.

That was the way Oropher had preferred it, and though Thranduil could see its usefulness on very rare occasions, extremely rare. He did not like to be under anyone's thumb and couldn't understand how his headstrong father could have ever been comfortable with it. Thranduil had to admit that his father had excellent taste in advisors though.

Thranduil glanced at the large stack of documents again. It would take several hours to get through everything, and judging from the large pile on the floor, Falien had already done an entire day's worth of work in half a day. That meant that more paperwork had been brought in earlier. Thranduil could only imagine the look on his advisor's face when he beheld the new pile. The Elvenking felt sympathetic that he put Fallien in such a position for several days, but Thranduil had no choice and he would likely have to do so again many more times. But for now, the King would handle everything.

A night's work ahead, the Sinda took a seat and retrieved the topmost document, reading, signing, and then moving on to the next one. Thranduil continued this pattern for all but five minutes before his thoughts gravitated to Legolas.

Legolas had admitted that he was angry with him, but did not mention why. Yet again Thranduil was left to ponder the reasons for this and yet Thranduil's overtaxed mind came back with only one answer. Legolas must have been more afraid to keep watch then he let on and that fear only grew with time, and so did the anger.

Thranduil ran a hand over his face in exasperation. He shouldn't have closed his eyes. Then he wouldn't have fallen asleep and Legolas would not be angry at him. Yet again, I pay the price for enjoying a moments peace, Thranduil thought bitterly, consigning himself to work the remainder of the day.

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

After exhausting himself and awakening from the long nap, Legolas realized he had neglected his horse and had forgotten to give her muscles a rubdown after the ride. And so, Legolas had left his room and headed to the stable.

The guards had not been comfortable with the idea of their Prince going out so late, but Legolas reassured them that he would be back shortly and so they let him pass. Though, if Legolas had wanted to he could have ordered them to open the doors anyway, the elfling was glad that it hadn't come to that. Though Legolas knew he was a prince by blood, it still felt strange ordering people around, especially since his royal head only hovered above his royal feet a measly four feet and two inches. Many times the prince couldn't even take himself seriously and often thought that the soldiers felt that they were being told what to do by a small child. At such times Legolas just had to keep reminding himself that he would grow taller in time.

Legolas poured more oil onto his hands and began to work on the front legs, gently pressing his fingers into the muscles there and kneading them slowly down the leg. The oil aided in lubrication so that Legolas could work faster, as well as kept the horse's coat heathy. The young stallion was always still for the prince, preferring to munch on oats or hay during the process or simply stand. All horses would be given this treatment toward the end of each month—depending on their level of activity—since elven horses did not injure or tire easily. Only frequent use of their muscles over a long period of time was enough to cause them to fatigue.

Though servants usually handled these things, Legolas often took it upon himself to do it when his rigorous schedule allowed for it, which wasn't that often. Legolas treasured these rare times and loved caring for his horse, enjoying the connection and forging a deeper bond with the creature. It also served to distract from his troubles really well. This was the last day Legolas had off, and though most his age would not be eager to go back to training, Legolas was very much looking forward to it. However, there was one aspect that the prince was dreading. Group spars.

The instructor had multiple students to observe and could not spend too much time on one group before moving on to the next. It was this vulnerability that allowed for some students to abuse it and employ dirty, underhanded tricks instead of winning by their own skills and merit. Legolas had mentioned it to the instructor once, but the elfling could see the disbelief in their eyes. It wasn't the instructors fault though. Sometimes students would lie about their sparing partner in the hopes that they would be disqualified and the win go to the other. After all, the one with the most spars won for the day would receive a beautifully handcarved knife that they could then keep as long as they remained undefeated. Once they were defeated, the knife would go back on the shelf and be given to the next high achieving student.

Legolas reached behind himself, only to grasp air. His weapons were not there, not even his bow.

Legolas began to panic at this before remembering where he'd left them. It was customary to leave training weapons at the archery fields before the new week of lessons began, but Legolas realized that he shouldn't have left the prized knife there. The instructor had mentioned not to leave it outside because, though the metal was strong, the designs on the hilt and case were susceptible to rust. That meant he would have to retrieve it after finishing the rubdown, lest it rain some time in the night.

Legolas's care for the weapon did not go farther than duty though. The knife had only been in Legolas's possession for only a few days, which was not enough time to form an attachment as he had with his other weapons. It was not really possible to do so anyway since tomorrow would be the start of a new week and all the students would try to best him and win the knife for themselves. Legolas was currently unchallenged, which meant that he had not yet faced a determined opponent. Despite his skill and training, Legolas doubted he could hold out for all seven days. Eventually, someone would beat him. Though there was one comfort. The instructor would solely be focused on the fight between the prince and one other elfling. That meant that any dishonest or underhanded ploys would be found out and that elfling would be bared from participating for that week.

Though, even with the advantage tomorrow, it would be a mistake to be overconfident. Spars could be unpredictable at times, and no matter how good someone was they could still make a mistake. Admittedly, Legolas felt a little nervous for tomorrow, and that feeling was made all the more potent by the events of the last few days.

So much had happened. The darkness that infested Mirkwood was now going after people they he loved. Legolas realized that he did not know how lord Elrond had been infected by it in the first place. Nor the twins for that matter. In the beginning Legolas had thought that the journey there had exposed the peredhel to a level of darkness that the elf lord was not used to, and in tern, Elrond was not able to overcome it completely. But that was only one of a number of possibilities, and it was particularly weak. The half elf had committed himself for the past few centuries to increasing his inner power. Though Legolas did not know how much it had increased, he knew that even a few increments would not be easily overcome by the darkness. For this to happen there must have been direct contact, though Legolas was unsure how Elrond could have come into direct contact with it. It wasn't as if there was a tangible black cloud floating around the forest. No, Legolas had been taught that evil often remained inconspicuous, never appearing as it was. It could inhabit anyone, controlling them to do its bidding or unspeakable things to one another and no one would be the wiser until it was too late.

Legolas took a breath, pushing down the fear that came with this thought. It hurt to think that Thranduil had not remembered the twins attacking his only son. Or had not thought it important or did not care. Either way, Legolas was still angry and hurt by his father's dismissal of the terrible event.

The horse whinnied in concern, sensing the elfling's agitation.

Legolas gave her a reassuring pat on the neck, speaking gently. "I am sorry, Siradal, it would appear my thoughts are still in turmoil even after so many hours."

Legolas stiffened, sensing the king approach. He did not turn around, speaking quickly. "Ada, I want to be alone right now."

"I know," came the reply. "I just came to tell you that the evening meal is ready. Will you be attending?"

The prince was surprised at the anger that bubbled up upon hearing his father's voice. He fought to steady his own "I do not feel up to attending. I will have something sent to my rooms." Legolas waited to be reprimanded for leaving the Halls so late at night, but nothing more was said and Legolas soon heard the sound of footsteps become fainter and fainter until silence once again reigned supreme.

The prince finished rubbing down the horse and then stood and wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder.

Legolas knew he would have to confront his father eventually, but Legolas had no desire to right now, nor could he bring himself to even look at the elf right now. Proving that the simmering anger beneath the surface had not cooled even after all these hours. In fact, it only seemed to grow hotter with time.

Now Legolas was positively fuming. What gave adults the right to dictate what was right and what was wrong? So it was wrong to hide his injuries from his father but it was right for his father to hide his own injuries from his son? It was wrong for him to go into the forest but right for Thranduil to fall asleep and leave the elfling to fend for himself against its creatures? And what gave his father the right to judge the worth of something he knew nothing about, didn't experience?

The prince honestly wasn't sure what he believed anymore. If an adult was free to make and then break the same rules that he had to follow then where did it end? It wasn't as if Thranduil was punished when he broke the rules. No one could punish the king. It was so unfair! Just once the prince wanted to do something that was against all the stuffy rules!

At that moment Legolas spotted his riding tack.

Before he could stop himself the prince was readying his horse, mounting her a few minutes later. A quick body check told him that he did not have his quiver, bow, or knives. Making a mental note to pick them up at the archery field where he'd left them, Legolas spurned his horse into a gallop and took off out the stable nearest archery field had been only a mile away, and the prince reached it within 15 minutes, quickly gathering his weapons before mounting up and galloping away towards the border before anyone could notice his absence.

Several hours later, Legolas reached the border of his home and pulled back on the reigns, bringing the horse to a smooth halt. His young eyes took in the sight before him.

The border consisted of tightly packed trees that stretched on for miles in either direction. Though it was mostly dark, a crescent moon shone upon them and Legolas could see the sickly green shade of the trees, noticing that the abstract color contrasted sharply with that of the darkened sky, giving an ominous feel to the already tainted forest.

Legolas felt uneasy and was beginning to questioning his decision the longer he stared into the black spaces between the branches. Perhaps this is one rule I should not break, Legolas thought. Then unbidden, another voice joined his own.

Why? Because your ada told you not to? Told you that it is dangerous and you could get killed? How can you believe anything he says when he has lied to you so much lately?

Because he is still my father, Legolas replied in his mind. Surely he would not lie to me about this.

If you are so sure, then let's say that Thranduil is right. Would it not be dangerous to send Elrond after his sons with only a sword to defend himself? If Thranduil really believed that the forest was dangerous wouldn't he have sent some guards with the elf lord?

Legolas had to admit that he was starting to believe the things his inner voice was saying.

Thranduil just told you that the forest is dangerous to keep you out of it. He is afraid that you will enjoy it more than the palace and want to live there, hardly spending any time with him. Even though you are a burden, Thranduil has to care for you because he promised your mother.

Legolas cringed.

That's why he told you those things about the forest, to frighten you away from it. But there is no real danger other than wild animals, and you can easily win in a fight with any animal, even a wolf. You did win the dagger in sparing. Surely an animal is easier to defeat than a person. Even if you come across an orc or a spider, at least you will be fighting your own battle and not relying on your father.

I will be in a lot of trouble when I come back.

You will be punished, yes, but in time your father will realize that you had to do it and appreciate that his son is self sufficient. Do you really want to be his burden forever?

Legolas turned his head toward the distant silhouette of his father's Halls, speaking in a low whisper. "I will not be your burden any longer. It is time I do things for myself."

With that, Legolas urged his mount into a slow run, disappearing into the foliage.

A/N: Uh oh… who saw that coming?