A/N: And onto chapter 2!

Wow, this is so exciting! I hope you all are enjoying the journey as much as I am.

Also, please see below for translations to the Sindarin within this chapter. If one is missing, however, please feel free to PM me!

Chapter 2

The remainder of the day passes quickly; his tutor Badhron immediately excuses Legolas from lessons upon seeing the frail form of his Aunt, the way she clutches his arm.

Faervel retreats to her own chambers, despite Legolas begging her to let him aid her, fetch the Healers to assess her. "All I need is rest, Laeslas," She had said wearily. "Don't go bothering those healers, now."

And for once, he is left to do as he pleases. It is a strange feeling- rare are the days where he has not a pressing lesson to attend, or time with Ada needed to be filled. While his worries for his Aunt leave him restless, he decides abruptly that he is of no use pacing the corridors, and so decides to head down to the kitchens.

Only to be stopped as he passes the chambers of his brother by a stern faced guard— "Prince Legolas, your royal brother Lhosben wishes to speak with you."

"Me?" Legolas squeaks out. Immediately he flushes, clears his throat. "I mean- where does my brother intend to meet with me?"

Beneath his expressionless face, Legolas thinks he sees amusement within his eyes. "In his chambers, my prince."

"I thank you," he says, and hurries into the chamber as the guard steps aside.

Has he done something wrong? Lhosben so rarely calls for him- his brother is many, many seasons older than he, with a family of his own who he spends more time with. He even has a son who is older than Legolas himself! From what he can recall- which is everything- his oldest brother has only ever called for him when he has done something wrong, or is required at a formal event.

But when he enters the private study of his brother, steps into the airy room and its shelves upon shelves of books, Lhosben greets him with only a smile.

"Legolas, it is good to see you." Lhosben is the only one of the family to call Legolas by his name- the rest use the pet name of Laeslas, given to him by his mother- and it makes him stiffen.

"Hello, Lhosben." He greets his brother shyly. "Have I-have I done something wrong?"

Dressed still in the green silk of the Council-room, Lhosben tilts his head and smiles. "No, laes, you haven't. Only, I noticed you attended the Council today, and listened in on the debates. Old Badhron let you out of your chambers for once, eh?"

Legolas relaxes; he isn't in trouble. "For once," he agrees. "And- and I am glad he did. The debates were.." He searches frantically for the right word. "Interesting?"

Lhosben's smile grows into one that makes his dark eyes shine. "A most diplomatic choice of word! Badhron will make a Messenger out of you yet! Yes, the debates were 'interesting'. A headache for Adar, to be sure."

Concerned, Legolas peers up at his brother. First Faervel, and now Ada too? "Is Ada alright?"

"Oh, he is well, laes, don't worry. Today's Council was just loud, and some edhil outspoken."

Does he speak of Belathon? "I did not know Belathon spoke so well." He says tentatively.

Immediately Lhosben seems to want to scowl, for his face twists as though he has tasted one of Cook Maeasson's sour lemon-cakes. "Nor did many on the Council."

"What- what did you think of what he said, today?"

His older brother snorts. "Oh, he doesn't know anything. He thinks nothing of those who give their lives and time to defend our Realm, and looks only to gather more wealth in his pocket."

Surprise makes Legolas take a step back. Never has Lhosben been so open with him! And did he really mean to say that Belathon was greedy for coin? From what he remembers, not once in his speech did the Silvan claim to want for wealth.

"But Aeglostor always says that Belathon is a brave warrior-"

Already Lhosben is shaking his dark head, braids sliding across his robes. "I would not listen to everything Aeglostor says, laes. He is as stubborn as Belathon, and you know how much he riles Adar."

"Oh, alright." Legolas knows when a conversation is finished, and peers around the study, the curtains of green and white. "But- what did you call me here for?"

Lhosben sighs, and bends down to fiddle with some papers on his desk. "I only meant- the debates today, they were not too..wild for you, were they?"

Wild? Does he think I am still an elfling, to be scared off by a bit of shouting? Legolas bites back a sigh, and the rush of irritation that follows. "No, Lhosben, they weren't. I am 57 summers old, you know."

"Oh, I know," Lhosben says, and it is more gentle than he expected. "We all know, laes." He has a strange expression on his face, one that Legolas cannot read. And it irritates him, makes him suddenly want to snap, or shout.

If you all know, then why do you still treat me like I am 10 summers old? Legolas wants to wail. But wailing like a child will get him nowhere. He forces a breath into his lungs until he can feel them ache with the amount of air he holds.

Shouting will not make my brother listen; I must be like him, and approach the subject carefully.

Lhosben looks to his papers; one hand reaches out, shuffles them- a nervous tic. "I…understand how difficult it can be. Being a beloved child."

What? The conversation has turned suddenly from one path to another, and he scrambles to catch up.

Lhosben's dark eyes find his, heavy black lashes sweeping against chestnut-brown skin. "Adar took seasons to persuade, when I wanted to first begin my lessons as Crown Prince. He wanted to keep me forever as an elfling, safe near him."

"But?" Legolas feels hope fluttering against his fae, tickling his chest like the wings of a butterfly. Perhaps his brother isn't as oblivious to his wishes as he'd presumed; he must know how much Legolas wishes to train!

Lhosben smiles, but the edges are touched with something that makes him appear…old. Sadder. "But Naneth managed to shake some sense into him. She knew that as Crown Prince, it would be my duty to get to know my people as soon as possible, and that meant me being exposed to everything that came with running a kingdom."

"Oh…" That familiar ache pulls at him, just as it always does when his naneth is mentioned. He knows little about her, and can remember even less so, but still he is aware that there is a void within his own fae, a bond that has lain untouched for seasons and will always be so. It is something he speaks of to no-one, not even Faervel.

The smile grows sadder still. "And now with you, laes, Adar does not have anyone else to listen to."

"But", he can feel his hope slipping through his fingers like the sweet waters of spring, and he takes a step towards his brother, "but you can speak to him, can you not? You are the Crown Prince, his heir and all of that. He will have to listen to you about me wishing to train."

"Train?" Lhosben's eyes widen and his mouth slackens with surprise. Now he looks as though he too is struggling to understand their conversation. "I thought you…"

"Yes," Legolas says quickly before his brother can say anything more. "It is training I want. And I know I am young, but I would not have to leave the Halls. I mean, if I could that would be all I ever wished for-"

"Train?" Lhosben echoes, as though he has heard wrong. "You wish to- to train?"

Legolas nods, even though he is confused at his brother's response. Maybe he is wrong, and Lhosben isn't aware of his longing to train, to see the forest. "Yes, I do. Like Annith, or- or Aeglostor," he gives a smile, well aware of the dangers of using his older brother's name in front of Lhosben.

His brother doesn't even seem to notice.

"Maybe," he continues hesitantly, for Lhosben makes no move to speak. He just stares. "Maybe you could speak to Ada about it- ask him if I could begin my apprenticeship alongside Annith's apprentices?"

Shock is spreading across Lhosben's face now, pulling his dark eyebrows down into a frown. "Legolas, you… you are not yet 60 summers."

Dismay grows in him, makes him want to squirm. "I know, brother," he takes another step until he is right up against his brother's desk and peering up at those earth-dark eyes. "But I am ready. I know I am. And I will work hard to prove it."

"Legolas," Lhosben says slowly, and this close Legolas can see how his pupils have blown wide, how his face has lost all of its usual warmth. "It- that request isn't up to me. It is up to Adar, and you know how he stands on this."

Yes, he knows. But he cannot help but want- wish- to be more than he is. Legolas takes a breath, and is surprised at how it rattles with nerves. "Ada will say no, at first, but I know he will come round-"

One dusky hand raises, halts his words. "Legolas, not only will he say no, he will refuse to even listen. I know this."

"But-" Just as he'd feared, it is as though he runs after his dream and it continually proves to be two, three, four, eight steps ahead. His brother refuses to listen.

"You say I have the King's ear?" It is Lhosben's turn to interrupt, and he leans in as he does, breath hot on his face. "Then know that what I say is true. Adar will not be pleased by your asking, not when you are so young."

Young? Frustration is building in his chest, beating against his ribs. "Lhosben- muindor" he tries to speak calmly but the name trembles on his tongue, "I am 57 summers, not 40-"

"No," Lhosben leans back, shakes his head. His eyes skate over him, glancing about as though looking for a way of ending the conversation. "No, Legolas. Do not ask me."

"I-" he cannot bite back the cry of frustration and draws away from the desk. "But I am nearly old enough- at least let me go outside, in the forest! Please, Lhosben, you are the Crown Prince, Ada will listen to you…"

"Legolas!" Lhosben says sharply, and he stiffens, waits for the words. "I cannot- Adar will not heed anyone when it comes to his children. I have learnt this lesson before, and it is one you must learn also."

It is as though a dam breaks inside of him. Suddenly hot tears are welling up in his eyes, and his fae flies against his chest, rises up in his throat. "But it isn't fair!" He gives in and wails, "it isn't fair that I must be locked up like some elfling- when everyone else is fighting the Shadow and helping Eryn Galen!"

"Legolas" Lhosben says; his voice has lost its bite, and is as hollow as he feels. "I cannot help you with this. My hands are as tied as yours. You must wait."

"Wait for what?" He doesn't want to wait- he wants to run, to run and never look back, to feel anor on his face and walk among the trees of his home and-

"Lhosben? Laeslas? Is everyone well? Goheno nin, but I heard shouting."

The soft voice of Emlinel breaks through his rushing thoughts; The scholar and wife of Lhosben stands by the doorway to her husband's study, her eyes wide and full of concern. Her eyes travel first to his brother, and then to Legolas.

"Tithen pen?" She says slowly, noting his expression, "Laeslas? Are you well?"

For a moment he cannot respond; all he can hear is his own ragged breathing and a prickling sensation behind his eyes that are not tears- no I won't cry- I am not an elfling-

"Emlinel, meleth, it is nothing." Lhosben says at last, when Legolas makes no sound. His brother's voice is quiet, defeated, and even in the sun-lit study he appears tired, worn down. "Legolas and I were just discussing..today's events."

And why I must wait until I can do anything of my own. "Don't worry, Emlinel, I am leaving now." To his embarrassment, the words croak in his throat, and his feet feel as heavy as if they had boulders strapped to them. Legolas looks up at the shadowed face of his brother and finds it weary, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "Farewell, Lhosben."

"Legolas," Lhosben calls quietly, pleadingly. It is gentle enough that it tugs at his fae, makes him pause. "Do not go. We- I cannot go against Adar."

"No one can," he chokes out, even though the words bring him no comfort. They fall around him like a stone wall, trapping him inside, no matter how he slams against their surface. "He is the King."

Rushing out of the chamber, past Emlinel's wide, worried eyes, he finds no relief in the slap-slap-slap of his feet on the stone floor, nor in the way those frustrated tears finally break their banks and slide down his cheeks.

Humiliation burns in his throat as he turns the corner. I say I am not an elfling, yet I cry like one. A true warrior would not cry-

Blinded by tears, he does not see the figure walking up the steps until he slams full-pelt into their stomach. The air is forcibly pushed out of him in a rush of air, but he can still hear the irritated words of the unfortunate edhel he has run into.

"Yrch's teeth, watch where you're-! Oh." Hands snake around him, catch him before he hits the cold stone floor. "Prince Legolas?"

"Let me go!" Legolas struggles, writhes in the unfamiliar grasp. "Let- let me-" His breathing rasps against his ears- fills his mind- let me go, let me go!

"Prince Legolas? Sidh, it is Belathon. Here-" A hand, cool and calloused, grasps his jaw and tilts his head back.

Legolas finds himself staring up through his tears into bright, silver eyes. It is indeed Belathon who holds him, who has stopped him from falling ungracefully to the ground.

Humiliation makes his head roar. "G-Goheno nin, hir nin Belathon. I-I-" to his horror, the tears he has been desperately trying to fight back do not stop. But what is worse is that twisted little sobs that shake their way from his throat. His fae rushes against his chest, squeezes painfully in humiliation.

"Ai, no, child, do not apologise." Belathon does not release him, but instead slides down to the cold stone floor. He pulls Legolas down with him, calloused hands firm on his shoulders.

Legolas stiffens, tries to pull away, but the Silvan's grip is strong and the weight of his fae is too much; it feels like a cup spilling over, splashing liquid everywhere, and he crumbles, buries his face into his hands and cries-

"Here now, do not cry so. It is well, sidh, you are safe, sidh." The touch is unwanted, unfamiliar, even if the hands let him cry, and he twists away because he is crying in front of one of Aeglostor's friends, and more than that a warrior-

But then, peace begins to trickle up into his chest, brushing against his writhing fae and slowly, slowly, the tears dry up and stop. With a loud sniff, Legolas lifts his damp face from his hands, wipes his nose.

Belathon gazes down at him, close enough that their knees brush. Against the gloom of the corridor, his eyes are the silver of mithril. "Now, don't apologise." The Silvan speaks before Legolas can blurt out an apology. "It is I who should in fact offer my apologies, for I should have heard you rushing down the corridor, or at least stepped out of the way."

"N-No," Legolas croaks, and even though his fae still aches and tears threaten to spill down, he manages a watery smile. "It is I, I should have looked up also-"

The dark-haired ellon's laugh cuts him off. "Ah! Alright- we are both of us at fault, then."

In response Legolas tries to smile again, but the banks of his eyes overflow, and tears trickle down his cheeks. "Oh!" Angrily, he swipes at his face, sniffs loudly again. "G-Goheno-"

"Hey!" A hand grasps his wrist and squeezes until the touch is almost painful. "What did I just say? Don't apologise to me, little prince."

Legolas gazes up into that smooth, intense face and nods. "Al-Alright."

"Legolas?"

The shocked voice and hurried footsteps of Lhosben makes both edhil jump and Legolas hastily lifts his gaze from the ellon in front of him; his brother storms down the corridor with alarm painted all across his face. Warily, the dark eyes flicker between Legolas and Belathon- Belathon who still has a hand on his wrist- and grow shadowed. "What is this?"

"Ah, Crown Prince Lhosben." With one last firm squeeze, Belathon releases Legolas' wrist and rises, sketching a rough bow. "Goheno nin, I did not mean to keep you waiting, only- well, I ran into your tithen muindor, who was quite upset."

Lhosben looks down at Legolas, at his watery eyes and red nose. "I gathered such. Legolas-" his brother's voice falters, and he glances at Belathon quickly, before returning his gaze to him. "I did not want our conversation to end as it did."

Realising how he must look, sprawled on the floor with tears soaking the sleeves of his tunic, Legolas in turn scrambles to his feet. "It is- it is no matter, truly." The words are hollow and he can hardly find the strength to look at his brother. Tentatively he glances at Belathon, which reveals the politician to be smiling gently at him. Peace slides into his fae.

His brother makes a small noise in the back of his throat, drawing Legolas' gaze to him. Clumsily, there is the brush of his brother's mind against him, the edges jagged with concern and worry, but he draws away hastily.

No, no, leave me be.

"If, if it is alright by you," he says after he has caught his breath, "I will return to my chambers."

His older brother pauses, and then nods slowly. "Very well. I only-" his words falter, and then abruptly he straightens up and squares his shoulders. Against the lamp-lit corridor, the once-warm figure has a silhouette of stone; untouchable and unreadable. "Our father the King expects us at dinner."

Legolas nods and goes to turn towards his chambers, only to have a firm hand catch him by the crook of his elbow. Belathon holds him, and his eyes are unexpectedly intense. They stare as though they see right down to his very fae. Like he is only a small leaf tossed in a mighty storm, and he can do nothing but wait for the storm to pass.

"I hope we meet again, Prince Legolas, and in happier circumstances."

The prickle of his skin indicates that his brother is attempting to draw his eyes away from Belathon, but Legolas avoids the burning gaze, and manages to summon up a wobbly smile. Of all the people today, this ellon and his words have proven to be the most kind. "I-I hope so too, Lord Belathon."

Lhosben abruptly clears his throat. "Now, Lord Belathon, if you would but let my brother go, I shall walk you to my private study to discuss today's events."

Looking as he is at the Silvan, Legolas watches as Belathon's demeanour changes; his body stiffens like dried wood under a harsh sun.

"Forgive me, my prince" the Silvan says, but there is no apology in his voice, "but I was only trying to offer your brother some comfort. He was alone and quite upset."

"I am well aware," Lhosben says, and Legolas tears his gaze away and looks at him in alarm. The normally smooth voice of his brother has dropped to one of ice, and his full mouth is pressed into an ugly line. "But the Prince has many of those familiar to him who may comfort him. It is not proper for him to seek refuge in the arms of a stranger."

Legolas stares at his brother in dismay- what is wrong with Lhosben? Why would his normally calm brother speak so rudely of a well-respected ellon? "Belathon is no stranger, Lhosben" he insists, unease rising in him at the looks of tension passing between the two ellyn. "He is-"

Lhosben fixes him with a stare that is unexpectedly sharp. "Were you not returning to your chambers, Legolas?"

Legolas' stomach sinks to his toes. "I-"

"Now, Prince Legolas, do not worry over your brother's words." Belathon gives him a sharp smile, his eyes gleaming like the shifting scales of an eel. "Your brother means well by telling you not to trust any random stranger who passes our Halls."

The ellon glances at Lhosben and his sharp face hardens, jaw muscles flexing. "I have only heard that it is treason here if I let any son of Thranduil go uncomforted or unaided. Am I true?"

Lhosben holds himself very still, as he did so earlier in the council-room when faced with Belathon and his passionate words. "You should ask my father the King."

The Silvan laughs, but all the warmth from earlier is gone; Legolas hears the snap of ice in his voice. "Very well, my lord. I shall do so."

"Go now, Legolas" Lhosben says, and his eyes do not leave the shadowed form of Belathon. "And remember- our royal father expects us at dinner this eve."

He does not understand what travels between the two ellon, but he knows well enough the sound of a command from the Crown Prince. With one last look at Belathon, he turns and quietly retreats back down the corridor, but not before glancing once more behind him.

The sharp, muscled figure of the Silvan stands opposite the Crown Prince, yet there is not a hint of submission in his posture. All politeness has dropped. Their fae burn and twist under their skin, as though their rhaws have been lit by the torches around them. Neither one smile.

A/N: How's that for a bit of tension? What do you all think of Belathon? Legolas? Lhosben?

And don't worry; for those of you who are hankering for a sight of our favourite grumpy Elvenking, he will be appearing in the next chapter!

Sindarin: Ellon/elleth- male elf/female elf

Edhel/Edhil- Elf/Elves

Sidh- Peace/Be at peace

Goheno nin- Formal way of apologising- "Forgive me"

Hir nin- my lord

Laeslas/Laes- rough translation is "Baby Leaf/Baby"

Muindor/Tithen muindor- Brother/little brother