Chapter 50: Children's Games
Third Age 1247

Aurel stood at the center of the circle, holding court. A dozen children gathered around him. Legolas stood at his side, silent, staring up at the older boy while he lectured the others. It was not often Legolas was invited to join in the older children's games, so today Aurel suggested he and Legolas invite the children to join in theirs.

Nithron crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze moving from Aurel to Legolas and back again. "Shouldn't Prince Legolas decide?"

"I am the eldest," Aurel stated. "It falls to me to decide."

"But he is our prince," said Tinnuves. She was bold, despite her small frame, and did not care much for Aurel bossing others about.

Aurel caught Legolas's eye, and smiled. "He is our prince," Aurel declared, "but he is also the youngest of us. He has much to learn."

"And you are going to teach him?" Nithron was not the least impressed with the idea.

"We all will," said Aurel. "That is the duty of elders. Once he has learned, then he can make the rules."

"Very well, then," said Himel. "You can make the rules, but Prince Legolas should agree to them before we begin."

"It is a fair compromise," said Tinnuves. "Do you agree?"

Legolas grew nervous now under the weight of the children's stares, but he did his best to hide his uncertainty. He looked to Aurel, who offered a sympathetic smile. Once assured that his closest friend was not upset by the other children's demands, Legolas nodded his head.

With Nithron's concerns addressed, he turned back to Aurel. "Well then, name your rules."

"The contest shall be to find the largest snail. Hunting for snails in the deep water is out of bounds, since some of us cannot yet swim without our parents. Only snails you can reach from the riverbanks or wading pools will count. The contest will end when the sun is two fingers above the rock cliffs. We will meet back here, at this rock, where the winner will be declared."

"What do you think?" Aurel asked his prince.

Legolas considered the rules for a time. They seemed fair, but there was one question remaining to him. "Can friends help each other?" Legolas asked.

"Yes. But only one may claim a snail."

"And who will be the judge?" Tinnuves asked.

"Our king, of course," said Aurel.

"That's not fair," said Himel, "Legolas is his son."

"Perhaps we should ask someone else," said Nithron.

"A king would never name a victor who had not truly won," said Aurel.

"How do you know?" said Tinnuves.

"My mother said so," Aurel declared.

"The King and your mother are friends," said Nithron.

"The King is friend to all," Aurel declared, and, weary of the argument, took up Legolas' hand and headed off to find their fathers. "Come along," Aurel called over his shoulder. The children followed, some begrudgingly.


Faentôr spotted them first – a procession of more than a dozen led by his son, weaving their way through the picnic blankets. Each wore the most serious of expressions. Aurel's was gravest of all. Faentôr rose to a seated position from where he lay, reclining on his wife's lap.

"My king," he said and gestured towards the approaching band.

Thranduil, himself reclining, rose to a seat. He followed Faentôr's gaze to the envoy led by Aurel. Legolas followed after him, his legs working double time to keep pace with Aurel and the taller children. Despite his son's efforts to conceal his unease, Legolas' gaze flitted nervously between Aurel and Thranduil.

Faentôr rose to meet the company and Aurel marched the line of children directly up to him. The boy bowed formally before addressing his father.

"Captain Faentôr, we have come to seek an audience with the King."

Faentôr did his level best not to laugh at his son's formal request, as did Roewen and Caladhel. He nodded once, and turning to Thranduil, delivered his son's message.

"My king, several of your subjects seek an audience. Will you meet with them?"

"Of course," Thranduil replied.

Faentôr extended his hand, directing Aurel to step forward before the King. The boy did so, and the rest of the children gathered around behind him.

Again, Aurel bowed. "Good day to you, King Thranduil."

"And to you, Aurel. What can I do for you on this fine day?"

"We would like to request that you judge a snail hunting contest."

"I would be pleased to do so."

"However, there are some… concerns," Aurel added.

Thranduil's gaze passed over the faces of the children. There did appear to be a measure of unease on several of the children's faces. "Is that so?"

"Some of us are worried that it might not be fair to ask you to judge when your son is a competitor. I assured all that you are always fair, and would never declare victory to any but the true victor."

"I appreciate your confidence in me, Aurel. And I will assure all present that I never have, nor will, favor one elf over another in a competition – be it in combat or snail hunting."

Aurel turned back to Nithron. "See. I told you."

Aurel went on to explain the rules to Thranduil, after which, he turned back to his friends. "Let the competition begin!"

The children scattered in a dozen directions, each in search of their prize. Aurel took a few steps towards the shore before he realized Legolas failed to follow him.

Legolas' attention remained on his father. The boy wore an uncomfortable expression; one Thranduil had often observed when his son was trying to puzzle something out. Thranduil knew Legolas was troubled and beckoned his son forward to speak with him.

"What is wrong, my son?"

Legolas considered the question a moment before meeting his father's eyes. "I want to win," he declared.

Thranduil could not hide his amusement at his son's honest answer. "Of course."

"I know a lot about snails," Legolas continued, excitedly, "their favorite places to hide and their favorite foods to eat."

"Then you should do well."

Despite his father's encouragement, the thrill of the moment faded quickly and Legolas' expression fell. "But what if I lose?"

"It is possible," said Thranduil.

"Will you be mad?"

Thranduil considered how best to respond to his son's concern. He glanced at his wife who sat silently observing the exchange. She was so much better at comforting their son when he was troubled, but her gentle smile gave him what assurance he needed to make an attempt.

"You know, your mother is a great archer. When she was young she competed in a hundred tournaments, but she only won three. And I have never won an archery tournament."

"Never?" Legolas echoed, disbelieving.

"Never," Caladhel confirmed.

"I have been champion of sword and stave," said Thranduil, "but never the bow. And though there are few now who can match my skill with a blade, I did not win my first tournament, or my twenty-first. It took many years to hone my skills."

"Practice makes perfect," said Legolas.

"That is right."

"So, you will not be mad?"

"No. I would only ask that you try again."

Legolas' former worried expression fled before the light of excitement in his eyes. "I will try to win. If I do not, I will try again. And if I never win, all will be well. After all, they are only snails!"

Thranduil was pleased with his son's conclusion. "Good luck in your quest, my son."

"Good luck," Caladhel echoed.

Legolas nodded to his parents, and after, bounded off in the direction of an already impatient Aurel.


Legolas and Aurel did know all the best places for snail hunting. They headed a short way up the river to a jetty that often housed the most impressive specimens. The water was a little higher today than usual, so that fresh pools had formed along the outer edge. One popular rock formation in particular sat beneath a foot of water.

Legolas waded out as far as he could, but could go no further. And yet he could see his prize, a little more than his own arm's length from shore. "That one's the biggest, I am sure of it."

"It could be a trick of the light on the water," said Aurel.

"It's not. It's the biggest, but I can't reach it. Can you?"

"Here. Hold mine." Aurel handed off his snail before wading out carefully into the water.

"Hurry, there isn't much time," said Legolas.

"If you would stick with that last one, we'd be done already."

"It's not the biggest."

"It's larger than mine. You had better hope this one is, too."

"It will be."

Aurel shook his head and shuffled further out across the moss covered rocks. He reached his hand into the water. "Just a little…" He never finished the thought. Aurel's feet slipped out from under him and his head hit the edge of the jetty in a loud crack.

"Aurel!" Legolas cried as the boy fell, but his friend never answered. Instead, the water lifted his slender body and floated it towards the river's main current. Legolas, panicked, jumped in after him, and grabbed hold of the older boy's hand as they were both swept away.


Thranduil sprang to his feet and sprinted towards the shore. The echo off the stone cliffs could not disguise his son's cry, or the name he shouted. Faentôr followed not a half step behind. Thranduil arrived at the water's edge in time to observe two small heads, one red and one golden, floating away downstream.

Thranduil might have called for aid, or not, for his mind was singularly focused on reaching his son. He ran without thought for his bare feet and the sharp stones beneath them as he tracked the children along the river's edge. He was vaguely aware of Faentôr keeping pace beside him and the sound of others in pursuit. In his youth, Thranduil had been accounted fast in a foot race, but never could he recall his lungs and heart straining so much as they did now. He pushed beyond endurance, drawing force from the wind and earth to propel him forward.

Thranduil arrived at a bend in the river where the waters became again what they were further upstream – a roiling foam. He spared no second's thought on prayers to the Valar, nor for the rocks hidden below. He leapt into the river where the water was most calm, an arm's length from Aurel and his son.

Thranduil struck the water as smoothly as he could, and blessedly missed the nearest stones. Upon returning to the water's surface he quickly oriented himself, feet pointed downstream and used his arms like rudders to direct his body in the direction of his son. The water on his back thrust him forward; so forcefully that the children came crashing into his arms. He held them fast, a child in each arm, and for the first time heard Legolas cry out to him. He might have been crying all along, for it was not until that moment Thranduil heard any sound but the furious beating of his heart.

"Ada!"

"I have you."

Legolas wrapped his arms around his father's neck, and it was only in the firmness of his son's grasp that Thranduil noted Aurel's limp form. Thranduil did what he could to direct them safely downstream while keeping all three of their heads above water. He could hear shouting along the banks and knew his warriors were close. He focused his memory on the river's path, seeking in his mind the safest shore. There was one such location ahead. Faentôr would know it. It would be their only chance before the next series of falls.

"Hold tight to me," Thranduil told his son.

"I can't," Legolas cried.

"You can. You must. I cannot steer us to shore otherwise. I must hold Aurel."

Legolas did as he was told, and more so, gripping his father's neck so tightly that under different circumstances Thranduil would have joked about a struggle for breath.

As they came around the bend Thranduil could, indeed, see Faentôr and a dozen others arrayed out along the jetties ready to aid them. Thranduil did his best to direct them to a safe harbor, and did well, until a counter current spinning off a nearby rock face drew his body downward. His leg caught between two stones and Thranduil felt rather than heard the crack as the current pushed his body forward. The muscles of his leg were not strong enough to resist the current's force. The bone of his thigh snapped and twisted, rending the flesh.

Thranduil knew pain was coming the second his leg caught and he gripped both boys tight to him as he screamed in agony. Each crashing wave tugged at his body, tearing his flesh further. He cried out again, this time in frustrated anger as much as pain. He had been so close.

"Ada!" Legolas screamed in his ear, loud enough to deafen.

Thranduil wished nothing more but to comfort his son, but he could not do so now as he struggled to keep his and the children's heads above water.

"My lord! We are coming!"

Thranduil focused on the sound of Faentôr's voice, though he could not see him. Thranduil heard his captain barking commands and shortly thereafter Faentôr appeared in the water beside him wearing a rope braced by many hands.

"Take him!" Thranduil motioned to Aurel.

"The prince," said Faentôr.

"I have him. Take your son, first."

Faentôr, for once, did not argue. He took his son in his arms and allowed the others to pull him back to shore before returning for Legolas.

"Come, my prince."

"Ada!"

"You must go with Faentôr now. I will follow." It was all Thranduil could do to pry his son's hands apart and hand him over to Faentôr who gasped, himself, when Legolas latched on.

"I will return," said Faentôr, for he could see his king's strength was fading quickly and the water washing over the rocks forced Thranduil's head under more than once. Faentôr tugged on the rope and once again was drawn to shore.

No sooner had they reached dry ground then Legolas was swept up into his mother's arms. "Legolas. Oh, Legolas, my sweet babe."

"Nana!"

Caladhel fell to her knees, weeping, and clutched her son tightly in her arms. She was not quite so fleet footed as the wardens and arrived as Legolas was pulled to shore. Roewen was already at her son's side. She pressed on his chest to force the water out of him and breathed into his lungs. He had not yet woken, nor drawn breath.

"Thranduil. Where is Thranduil?" Caladhel glanced nervously about the shore. She finally spied him, in the water still.

"His leg is caught," said Faentôr. "We must free him."

"Is he well?"

"I think his leg is broken," Faentôr said.

"Feren!" Caladhel called out to the nearest captain, who came to her side at once. "Take my son to Limrond, to Beleth."

"No!" Legolas screeched, clutching his mother tighter.

Caladhel's heart broke for the terror in her son's voice, but she would not have him witness whatever fate might befall his father or Aurel. "You must go with Feren now."

"No! Nana! Ada!"

Feren did as he was told. He pried the boy from his mother and carried him off towards home, all the while with him wailing.