Skyfire

by Foxflight

Oropher and his son Thranduil came to Greenwood hoping to find a home among the Silvan elves, but Eithryn, a rather uncooperative she-elf, isn't sure she wants her people in the hands of the Sindar. Since locking her up somewhere might not go over well, the three of them must find some way to coexist.

59. Challenge--Part 3

Wow, I was annoyed at myself for taking so long to finish this chapter until I realized how insanely long it is... Talk about story ideas getting out of hand...

Warning: You may want to go back to Part 1 to remind yourself of everything that's happened so far.

"Ah yes... Day four."

"Day four, indeed."

The male elves had nothing else to say until, after a few minutes of munching on their fishy breakfast, Heledir spoke up. "So, how do you think the girls are doing?"

"I hope they're about to give up," declared Feren.

Ruscan nodded in agreement. "They're probably completely miserable, but holding out from pure stubbornness because they can't bear to see us win."

"This ought to teach them how badly they need us," Alagon remarked.

Thranduil thought about the she-elves involved in this competition—Kilvara, Caliel, Lanthirel—and thought his companions might be stretching the truth a bit, but he only smirked, especially when his son joined in on the action.

"Think they started crying the first or second day?"

Tathor protested, "My Nana's tough, 'Las, she wouldn't cry. And Silana, and Kilvara, and Lanthirel—they're tough, too."

"She-elves cry over strange things," said Alagon, not looking at the elflings.

"I am sure they are fine," Taensirion told them, thus getting himself kicked in the shin by one of his sons-in-law. "Ow."

Ruscan shook his head at the Sinda. "We don't want them to be fine; we want to win this thing."

"That is easy for you to say." Heledir frowned as he tossed a nut to a hopeful squirrel. "Your wife does not miss you so badly when you go on long journeys."

"I'm guessing your Nana misses you, Tathor," Felrion felt he should say.

Tairen grinned to himself as he quietly wrote this all down in his personal shorthand.

"I miss Callie," Galion sighed. The others loudly shushed him.

"Do not say that!" Alagon hissed at the butler. "It is only day four; we have to be strong!"

Galion straightened and spat, "So you don't miss Kimbrel, then?"

"Notice he said we have to be strong," Tairen pointed out helpfully. This drew his father's attention to what he was writing, and Ruscan's eyebrows went up as he pried the clipboard out of the younger elf's hands. "Give that back, Ada."

"Shut up," Alagon growled at Tairen. "And no, I do not."

"You do not miss your wife?" Taensirion repeated in disbelief, while Tairen tried to wrestle back his notes to write that down.

"No," Alagon answered matter-of-factly, lifting his chin. "And I suggest we prohibit any further displays of weakness for the remainder of the week."

"You cannot outlaw feelings," Taensirion protested.

"No?"

"No," agreed Felrion.

Feren asked, "Why not?"

"We could vote on it." Firith suggested.

"Sure." Felrion figured common sense would prevail. "All for... er... all in favor of Alagon's idea?"

Alagon, Legolas, Feren, Firith, and Thranduil raised their hands (the latter not wanting to hear about how much everyone missed their wives), and after looking at each other and shrugging, so did Ruscan and Tairen.

"Wait—"

"The people have spoken, Taensirion." Alagon smiled smugly.

"Wait," Felrion echoed desperately. "All against?"

Taensirion, Galion, Tathor, and the healer all indicated their predictable opinion.

"Heledir!" Taensirion elbowed his other son-in-law, who shrugged helplessly and kept both hands on his lap.

"I believe you can do basic math, Felrion?" Alagon asked dryly.

Felrion was speechless.

"I have to ask, though," Tairen spoke up. "How is this going to work?"

"Is it not obvious? No one may in any way imply that they miss any female, romantically involved or otherwise." Alagon gave Galion and Taensirion significant looks to ensure they understood.

Ruscan and Tairen exchanged grins. "I think—" the former began.

"Shut up," Alagon growled.

. . . . . .

"C'monnnnn. You know you want to!"

"The lake? With fish and who knows what else?!"

"You won't be in the lake, unless your canoe tips over. You can even be my partner, if you want; I know what I'm doing. C'mon, Kim, please?"

The reluctant she-elf opened her door a fraction of an inch to glare at her visitor. "My name is Kimbrel. Kim-brel! Not Kim."

"Okay, okay." Caliel grinned to show no harm was intended. "So, are you coming? It'll be so fun!"

Kimbrel glared at the bubbly she-elf for a moment before rolling her eyes and grabbing her cloak. "If I fall in..."

Caliel's smugness was well-hidden behind her infectious smile.

. . . . . .

"Feelings aside," Heledir began after a breakfast filled with complaints about the sheer amount of fish they were eating, "the she-elves are our responsibility in a way, don't you think?"

"Is this allowed?" wondered Feren, eyeing his uncle suspiciously.

Alagon narrowed his eyes, but said, "He makes a fair point. Continue, Heledir."

"All I am saying is... surely there is some way we could make sure they are doing all right on their own. If they needed us..."

"Hmm," grunted Alagon, thinking of how unhappy Kimbrel became whenever he left for any length of time. "Granted. What do you propose?"

Heledir sighed and rested his chin in his hands. "That is the problem, I guess. Anyone?"

"I think we'd better not send a spy," Felrion said quickly, before anyone could put that plan out there. With Kilvara and Silana, both experienced patrol leaders, keeping watch, any scout of theirs would be caught in minutes.

Feren stroked his chin. "Maybe we could hire a third party to see what they're doing—I know some elves."

"Better not," Taensirion put in. "I heard them discussing that possibility before we left."

"Rats," Feren muttered.

"I know. That would have been our best bet, otherwise."

Thranduil, meanwhile, had been listening as he leaned on a tree nearby, and slowly putting the pieces together in his head. Their need for a spy from within the group... a convincing excuse... someone the she-elves would accept without question.

The fourth criterion, someone who could lie properly, they might have to do without. "I have an idea."

. . . . . .

"Left, Lanthirel! Left! Leftleftleft—"

Bonk.

"Well done," Aleinia sighed, chuckling, as she and Lanthirel pushed off from Faena and Milaera's boat, which they had just not-so-dramatically bumped into.

"I am sorry, for some reason I thought you meant to paddle on the left." Lanthirel was red-faced from laughing; she had always been very bad at canoeing.

"It is all right, Nana," Faena called from the other boat. "We hit a log a minute ago, and Kilvara had to rescue us."

"She and Felrion used to go canoeing with Storm all the time, I hear," remarked Lanthirel, watching Kilvara engage in a splash fight with Silana and Sheyni a short distance away. Kilvara maneuvered her one-elf canoe expertly, while Silana tried to stand up in the one she shared with Sheyni and ended up flipping it over, sending both Sindar into the water. "Oh dear," she remarked without much conviction.

"That child," Aleinia agreed with a mock shake of her head.

A shout came from the bank. "I got her!"

"Would you look at that?" Lanthirel—and most of the others—were amazed to see that Caliel had actually managed to convince Kimbrel to risk falling into somewhat dirty water. "Hello, Kimbrel!"

"Hi, Kimbrel!" Silana shouted as she and Sheyni tried to right their canoe while treading water.

On the lakeshore, Kimbrel backed a few steps away from the water at the sight of the soaking-wet elves.

Caliel didn't hesitate as she pushed the boat into the water. "Don't worry, we probably won't fall in if we don't jump around."

"This is an awful idea. I'm not getting in that thing."

"What, scared of a little water?"

Kimbrel straightened up. "No."

"Sure you're not. Scaredy-mouse."

"Hey! Look, I'm getting in your stupid boat now, are you watching?"

Success, thought Caliel.

. . . . . .

"Now remember, if they ask—which they will—we're doing fine. We're eating venison and berries and having the time of our lives, got that?" Feren poked Tathor in the back, for no better reason than because he could.

"And playing games," added Felrion. "And having fighting practice and all that."

Tathor nodded dutifully and repeated, "We're playing games and eating good food and generally having fun."

"And don't mention how we've been sitting around doing nothing half the time, or the fight this morning..." The healer cast a sideways glance at Feren.

"He deserved it," the brown-haired elf muttered.

"Try to act young," Felrion continued after a resigned sigh. "Oh, and it's okay if you act embarrassed to be there; pretend Legolas has been teasing you for wanting to go home."

"He has," Tathor muttered, though he grinned a little.

"That's the spirit—aha, there they are." Felrion whistled, letting the wind carry the sound down from the tree they were perched in to the path below, where Silana and Sheyni walked on their way back to Lanthirel's house. (The male elves had learned from the trees that two of the she-elves were coming this way.) "We've come to negotiate!"

"Giving up already?" Silana yelled back.

Feren huffed and lobbed an acorn at her. "Not even close, sis! Little Tathor misses his mother, is all!"

Silana and Sheyni whispered for a moment, then looked back up, hiding their grins. "And what do you propose, healer?" the former inquired.

"Make an exception for him," was Felrion's request. "I'm sure your mother will understand."

She will indeed, thought Silana. As soon as she sees the guilt on the elfling's face. "I suppose he could stay for one night," she agreed. "Sheyni, why don't you go tell them, so they don't call foul when they see Tathor?"

"It's a deal, then?" Feren called suspiciously.

"This will not lose you the contest. Come on, Tathor, don't be shy." Silana turned and began to walk—slowly—back toward the lake as the elfling caught up to her; she wanted to give Sheyni time to run ahead, after all. "Long time no see, elfling."

"We've been having fun," Tathor said defensively. "I missed my Nana, is all."

Silana didn't miss how he glanced over his shoulder at the two Silvan elves who watched them from the tree. "I did not doubt it for an instant. How do you like canoeing?"

"You're getting to go canoeing? We only went fi—" His mouth snapped shut abruptly.

"Fishing?"

"And lots of other things."

"Sure you did." Silana pulled him to the side of the path—the more time the other she-elves had to prepare for his arrival, the better, after all—and stared deep into his blue-green eyes. "Look, Tathor, you don't have to lie to me—I won't tell them anything." She most definitely would tell them everything.

He shuffled his feet. "I shouldn't. Sorry, Silana."

Rats. They started walking again. "Maybe later, then—huh."

"What?"

"You are almost as tall as I am. I had not realized."

"I've been growing," he agreed shyly.

"Just stick to Firith's height; he's almost exactly as tall as I am."

"How come elves always want to be taller than each other, I wonder? Alagon was complaining—" He slapped his hand over his mouth in shock.

Adorable elfling. "I'm pretty sure you are allowed to tell me that part."

"Probably so, I guess." Tathor blushed. "Alagon was complaining to Feren yesterday about all the Sindar being taller than him; he said that with most of the council being Sindarin, he can't look any of them in the eye. I don't understand—I'm okay with being shorter than Legolas."

Silana laughed and answered his questions as well as she could, and by the time they returned to the lake, they'd been distracted by enough flowers and songbirds that most of the she-elves were just starting the walk back to the house.

"You might as well go out on the lake for a while," Lanthirel mentioned as they passed each other. "We left the canoes there—Caliel is still teaching Kimbrel, but the rest of us need to start on dinner."

Dinner? They had barely finished their packed lunches—aha. "We cannot have a feast every night, Nana."

"No... but we have a guest tonight." Lanthirel winked, glad her daughter had caught her meaning.

Silana and Tathor wasted no time in dragging one of the two-elf canoes back into the water and paddling out toward Caliel and Kimbrel's boat; it was evident Tathor knew his way around a canoe, which maybe wasn't surprising given who his mother was. "Nana!" he yelled when they got close—it didn't take long, since Caliel and Kimbrel were also paddling toward them with impressively coordinated strokes for a pair with only one experienced elf. "They said I could stay tonight!"

"I heard!" The two canoes drew up right next to each other, and Tathor and Caliel leaned to hug—Silana automatically adjusted her balance to prevent tipping. "What have you been doing? How's your brother?"

"Firith's fine, and Legolas and I have been having fun—we did a scavenger hunt, and had a sparring tournament, and—" It was obvious the exact moment when Tathor switched to lying. "—we, um, went swimming and..." Here he trailed off vaguely, and Silana was fascinated by how an elf who could make up the strangest stories off the top of his head could be so bad at thinking of activities he hypothetically could have done. Meanwhile, Caliel's mouth twitched as if she were suppressing a smile.

"Do you want to switch boats?" Silana offered after a few moments of Tathor trying to avoid eye contact.

Caliel sent a thoughtful glance over her shoulder at Kimbrel, who was looking more relaxed than Silana had ever seen her, if a bit bored with how they were currently floating in place. "No, that's all right."

Interesting, thought Silana. "How about a splash battle?"

"No!" yelped Kimbrel, grabbing her paddle and shoving at their boat in an attempt to gain some distance. "You will not get lake water on this coat, you insubordinate whelps!"

"Rude," huffed Silana (who was grinning), and she instead splashed Tathor, who was distracted by the silvery glint of fish scales under the surface.

"Hey!" He splashed back impressively, soaking her barely-dried clothes. Kimbrel paddled frantically away, which, since Caliel was more focused on laughing, mostly sent them in a circle.

She used her oar to slap the surface of the water with all her strength, causing Tathor to grab his oar and smack her with it; she yelled and swung her own weapon at him.

"Get her, Tathor!" Caliel cheered, while Kimbrel ducked and covered her head with her arms.

After a few more swipes, Silana got another hit, eliciting a squeak from Tathor, who doubled over sideways to protect his injured side. She immediately felt bad, remembering he was only an elfling who hadn't been fighting for more than two decades. "Oh—are you oka—"

He lunged at her, sending them both tumbling into the dark water with an impressive SPLASH.

"Savages," Kimbrel muttered under her breath as the two younger elves resurfaced, laughing uproariously.

. . . . . .

"Cannot."

"Can. It's our build, partly."

"It is training; our strength makes up for any physical disadvantages."

"I cannot believe you two are the ones bringing up this debate," mused Thranduil, turning around to raise an eyebrow at the two elves who had (with his permission) followed him from a distance as he took a walk (or climb) to distract himself from a memory he would prefer to avoid.

"You cannot tell me you and—and your friends never had this argument." Taensirion suppressed a wince at his slip; he always had trouble avoiding mentions of the late queen. "Anyway, we have no trouble keeping up with the Silvans."

Galion rubbed his chin. "You can jump far enough, I'll admit... but is it as far?"

"The question is easy enough to answer." Taensirion paused and scanned the ground below them, then pointed. "See that root? We can leap off it and see how far we each get."

Thranduil decided this was a better distraction than walking and leaned against a branch to observe.

"You first," Galion offered once the two made their way down.

"No, my friend, I would prefer you begin, so I have a mark to beat."

"How about together?"

"All right, on three—one... two..." Taensirion backed up to get a running start, as did Galion. "Three!"

Both elves launched themselves off the wide root and landed on the forest floor, Taensirion rolling to use up the leftover momentum and Galion landing lightly, keeping the leaf mold off his clothes.

"Aha! See?" Taensirion, once he brushed himself off and saw where the mark from his landing was compared to Galion, appeared quite proud of himself.

"Oh well. Still, I'm not the best jumper."

"True enough; perhaps I should challenge Feren or Alagon instead."

"Goodness knows they all need entertainment," Thranduil put in from above them.

"Let's go, then," Galion decided, but he stopped before he'd taken two steps. "My lord, will you...?"

"I assure you, Galion, I am fully capable of taking a walk by myself," Thranduil said dryly.

The butler turned to Taensirion, who nodded, and the two set off toward the camp.

The Elvenking set off again, feeling oddly exposed without his two friends or the pair of guards whose presence he had become so used to when he was otherwise alone. He had not been so alone for years, even on his short wanderings through the palace or, this week, around the camp, when he was always conscious of elves somewhere nearby. Kings were rarely alone, it seemed. He wondered if he was becoming too dependent on Taensirion and Galion; one was always with him at home and the other nearby as much as possible when he worked, and he constantly found himself leaning on them to get him through the day, to share the burden or keep his mind off his grief when things got to be too much. Without either of them here, he hardly dared to think for fear of ending up a sobbing mess on the ground.

He hardly noticed when he had to jump a gap or duck under a cluster of twigs, focusing on the weaving patterns of the branches he walked along. He was afraid to look up at the dappled green leaves that decorated the trees, beautiful as they were on a breezy day like this.

. . . . . .

"Ha! Got you!" Feren picked himself up and dusted off his clothes, having dived to gain an extra few inches and thereby beat his father's jump.

"Well done, well done," Taensirion chuckled, clapping. "I think the prince is about to beat your distance, though." Feren turned just in time to see the prince land with an "Oof", having launched himself an elf's height beyond Feren's mark in the dirt, with the unfortunate side effect of landing awkwardly and ending up sprawled on his back.

"...Are you okay?" Firith couldn't resist asking, while most of the other elves (especially Feren) displayed their amusement.

Legolas had already jumped up. "Do I win?"

Up in a tree, Felrion said, "The marks are clear from up here. Well jumped, princeling."

"It appears," Tairen put in, consulting his clipboard, "that Silvans have a definite advantage—" Even Taensirion's distance had been quickly beaten, and the elves suspected that he, being a fast runner, could probably outjump most other Sindar anyway. "—although since Legolas and I both beat the Silvan average by a fair amount, it could be half-Sinda have the best of both worlds. Perhaps that's why Feren got second place," he joked, referring to his uncle's adopted status.

"High jump, now?" This suggestion came from Alagon, who'd tried multiple times to beat his record after Felrion outjumped him by a tiny amount.

The others all agreed, for lack of other ideas; while they began bouncing up and down and arguing over who was going higher, Galion went over to Taensirion, disrupting an argument with Feren over whether the Sinda's extra height should be taken into consideration. "Thranduil isn't back yet," the butler worried.

"I am sure he is fine..." Despite his words, Taensirion eyed the forest nervously, wondering if they'd made a mistake in letting the king out of their sight for so long. "Here, let me... ah..." He closed his eyes and scrunched up his nose, trying to make contact with the trees. Where is the king?

The trees replied with confusion.

Thranduil. Taensirion thought a mental picture of his friend at the plants.

Elk-rider, thought the trees. Here. They directed his thoughts a short distance north.

Is he well?

They were perplexed.

Is he... hmm... How did one explain crying to trees? Did he fall?

The trees' thoughts recoiled in alarm. Not fall no sap no.

Sap?

The trees sent him fuzzy pictures of bloody elves collapsing.

"Oh," said Taensirion out loud, surprise making him lose connection with the trees. "No, that is not what I..." He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Didn't work?"

"I found him, but when I tried to find out if he was upset, it would seem I instead asked if he was dead..." Taensirion could speak to the trees well enough, but he had never quite gotten the hang of actually communicating. "Perhaps you should try?" While he knew Galion hadn't ever made a concentrated effort to learn the art of tree communication, being more focused on taking care of his fellow elves, the butler had at least learned the basics as an elfling.

"Sure..." Galion brushed against the trees' minds and instantly found his own being bombarded with alarmed thoughts.

Elk-rider danger?

Orcs?

The trees sent a picture of Thranduil collapsed on the ground, blood pooling around him, and Galion gasped and only stopped himself from running to help his king because he didn't know where said king was. Is that real?

The trees' thoughts were too disordered to respond properly.

Is he hurt? Tell me!

They sent several conflicting images he couldn't make sense of.

"I think this is my fault," apologized Taensirion, who was also listening to the forest's mental chaos.

Nearby, another mind also noticed the trees' distress. Why so upset?

Elk-rider damaged fallen torn up orcs come? the trees demanded.

Legolas sighed. Ask elk-rider if hurt?

The trees did, and soon sent relieved feelings back at him; an elven mind touched Legolas's through the forest's thoughts, communicating something between curiosity and resigned annoyance, and Legolas sent back amusement. All is well, he thought to the trees and his father both.

The trees quickly relayed the message back to the original inquirers. Greenleaf say all is well.

"Oops," mumbled Galion, realizing who it was who'd calmed the trees down so easily.

Legolas was laughing at them from across the campsite, and the butler and advisor waved back sheepishly.

. . . . . .

The brief arboreal uproar extended well beyond the area occupied by the twelve male elves.

"I wonder what that was about?" Kilvara remarked as she kneaded the dough for a loaf of bread.

"Who is elk-rider?" Aleinia added. "Oh—Thranduil, of course. Silly me."

Sheyni selected another potato to chop. "And Greenleaf is Legolas, as you can guess. Oh—the trees were upset about something, before someone—the prince, I think—settled them down," she explained for her mother and older two aunts, who hadn't grown up in Greenwood and thus hadn't heard the trees' alarm.

Kilvara laughed. "This is completely unrelated, but had you heard what the trees named Tathor?"

"They were still calling him 'little leaf-sorter' after Firith, last I heard," said Aleinia without looking up from the pie she was making. "Or 'Greenleaf-friend'."

"He's 'deer-friend' now, ever since he found a little fawn with a broken leg."

Milaera put down her steak knife in amazement. "Aww!"

"Such a precious child," Faena said.

Kilvara nodded to herself and returned to her bread. "He was the perfect choice for a healer... not for a spy, though."

Lanthirel looked up from grating cheese. "That boy could not lie to save his life; all the better for us."

"He'll get a good meal out of it."

They all chuckled.

. . . . . .

Tathor stared at the sheer number of tasty things on the table in amazement. "You've been eating like this every night?!"

"Can't have a party without food," Caliel said matter-of-factly.

"Dig in, Tathor, you're only eating with us once." Kilvara nudged him toward the table.

The boy's eyes were wide. "Wow—um, thank you!"

"You're very welcome," Kilvara giggled.

The she-elves waited until everyone was seated with their food, with Tathor seated between Caliel and Lanthirel. "So," began the latter, "what have you been doing this week, elfling?"

A hunted look crossed Tathor's face. "I'm not supposed to tell you that."

"I told you everything we did," Silana protested in a wounded voice. This was true, though she'd added considerable embellishments to the tale, of course.

Tathor shrank with guilt, but kept enough presence of mind to accuse, "You're manipulating me, aren't you?"

Silana pressed her lips together to keep a straight face; so Tathor had learned something from all the adults' lectures after all. "Yep, but it is true, though. And look at the nice meal we are sharing with you!"

"Please, Tathor? We are only worried about our husbands and brothers." That was Faena, who could be as devious as the rest of the females in her family when the need arose, despite appearing as innocent as could be.

"And sons," added Caliel, secretly hoping her own son would stand up for himself, but really doubting it.

Silana reached across the table to put her hand over Tathor's. "Please? For me?"

Tathor's resistance had melted several sentences ago. "...okay..."

"Good." Lanthirel sat up straighter and pushed a pan toward Tathor. "Start at the beginning, and have a cookie."

. . . . . .

"I wonder how Tathor's doing?" Galion wondered to Felrion. The two were watching from the safety of a tree as the others engaged in increasingly hazardous contests, including seeing who could hang from a tree the longest without passing out and who could spar with Alagon the longest (Thranduil, upon returning, had again forbidden Legolas from participating in the latter). Felrion chose not to interfere.

Knowing the elfling as he did, and knowing Kilvara, Silana, and especially Lanthirel as he did, Felrion's professional opinion was that his apprentice was doomed. "I'm sure it's going just fine."

Galion snorted. "Be honest."

"It's a good thing he has other talents."

They both chuckled nervously.

"Yeah, he's not a soldier," Felrion continued. "He'll make a fine healer, though, if I can just get him to focus..."

"Thanks for taking him on."

"I didn't do it for your sake. You know, Galion, he reminds me of you, when you became Thranduil and Sky's butler."

"How so?"

"He's so eager to please; it's... well... it's adorable." Felrion had to grin. "I've got to admit, I love the kid."

"Tell me about it."

They sat in silence for a moment, watching Alagon beat up Tairen while Taensirion paced around them, hand twitching toward his sword with every bruise his grandson acquired.

Suddenly Galion put his head in his hands and groaned. "Why did we send Tathor to the she-elves, again?"

Felrion laughed helplessly. "Because we didn't have any other ideas."

"At least we'll know what they're up to?"

"Yeah..."

. . . . . .

"Alagon, I dare you to walk to that dead willow by the fallen pine and back."

The advisor gave the prince a look of pure disappointment. "And why would I do that?"

"He's scared," said Ruscan instantly.

"Look how he's bristling," added Tairen before Alagon could get a word in edgewise. "He hates appearing weak."

"Poor wittle Alagon," Feren baby-talked—the ultimate insult. "Is he scared of the ghosties?"

Taensirion flicked Feren and Tairen on the backs of their heads—Ruscan was too far away—but it was too late; Alagon had jumped to his feet, furious. "I am NOT a coward, and I will prove it!" He stalked away from the campfire.

"Go," Feren whispered to Legolas, but their fathers grabbed them before they could stand—by the ear in Legolas's case, and with a firm hand on the back of the neck for Feren. "Leave Alagon alone," ordered Taensirion.

"C'mon, Ada!"

"Just because your mother is here does not mean you may misbehave, elfling."

"I'm not an elfling!"

Legolas was staring, wondering if he, too, would be forever treated as a child; he'd never thought Taensirion would be such a cruel father.

"Then do not act like one, and I will let go of you." Taensirion was unimpressed by Feren's struggles.

Meanwhile, Galion was appreciating how well-behaved his sons had naturally turned out.

Tairen tapped his father's shoulder. "Oh, Ada?"

Ruscan barely kept a straight face. "Yes, son?"

"May I go scare Alagon?"

"Why yes, you may."

Taensirion was not amused.

"Sorry, father, but the elf's beaten up my son twice now." Ruscan grinned at his wife's father—as much as he respected the family patriarch, sometimes one needed to push the limits. "Wait up, Tairen."

"Ada, may I please—"

"Absolutely not." It appeared Taensirion's feathers were a bit ruffled; Heledir patted his shoulder in sympathy.

Legolas tried giving his own father his best begging look, but Thranduil did not even look at him. "Ada, let go of me!"

"Will you run off?"

Legolas glared at him. "...no."

Thranduil let go.

"I won't do it," Feren grumbled.

Taensirion sighed and let go of him. "I am not sure why I am worrying about Alagon, anyway; I should be more concerned for Ruscan and Tairen."

Sure enough, that was when they all heard a yell that was definitely not Alagon's, then another, and pretty soon Alagon returned, entirely unconcerned and with no sign of the dark-haired elves. "If anyone wishes to fetch those two, they are tied to the willow."

Thranduil was the only one who dared to ask. "...With what?"

"Their hair, of course."

. . . . . .

"Don't be so glum, Tathor," Silana said the next morning as she and Caliel walked back with him to where they'd presumably hand him off to the male elves. "After all, now we know you're all doing okay." If "living on fish and bored to death" qualified as okay.

"They're gonna kill me," Tathor mumbled.

Caliel ruffled his hair. "Nah, you're too cute for that; besides, it was worth it for you to get to come."

The boy managed a smile. "Yeah, I guess so." A sharp whistle came from above them—the men were closer this time. "Bye, Nana." Tathor hugged his mother, who placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Bye, elfling; say hi to Ada and Firith!"

"I will! Bye, Silana!" Tathor vanished into the leaves above.

"Have fun!" Silana cried after him, then turned and grinned at Caliel. "I believe we carried out that plan with exemplary results."

"By which you mean, he's going to tell the others we've been having the time of our lives, while we know they're weakening?"

"Precisely."

. . . . . .

"YOU TOLD THEM EVERYTHING?!" Alagon threw his hands in the air. "Are you serious?!"

"Sheesh, calm down," said Felrion. "At least they're doing all right."

"Feasting every night?" Heledir broke in skeptically. "While we are finally eating something besides fish for the first time in days?" Several of the elves had finally given up and gone hunting early that morning. "Canoeing? Riding all day? Watching bear cubs play, for goodness' sake? That is not 'doing all right'—that is winning! Alagon is right, this might be an emergency!"

"We may be overreacting—" Taensirion began, only to be interrupted by Feren.

"This is a matter of honor, Ada! We can't let them win! Alagon, what do we do?"

Galion spoke first. "I thought Taen was in charge?"

Alagon gave a single harsh laugh. "Taensirion does not understand the urgency of the situation! We need a new leader, one who can salvage the situation he has gotten us into, and quickly! Therefore—all for me as leader?" He raised his own hand.

"That is hardly a fair assessment," Taensirion complained, but with a resigned shake of his head.

"I'm with him!" shouted Feren, jumping to his feet.

Legolas leapt onto a log. "Me, too!"

Tairen and Ruscan stood more slowly. "Us too, despite everything he's done." They'd finally been freed by Taensirion the night before, with a cheerful reminder that they'd deserved that.

"What about the king?" wondered Heledir; Thranduil was having a bad morning and had not yet left his sleeping tree.

Alagon shrugged dismissively. "We will ask him if we need a tie-breaker. Vote!"

"All right, all right, I am with you. Sorry, but we have to do something quickly," he apologized to Taensirion.

"Oh dear," sighed Felrion.

"This should be interesting," Taensirion agreed.

Tathor and Firith hesitated before, to the surprise of the others, they both stood. "This is kind of my fault, after all," said the former.

"And our odds really aren't looking good," Firith noted matter-of-factly. "After all, we can't win now; we can only tie them by staying here all week."

"Do not give up hope just yet," Heledir replied. "They probably wanted to put up a strong appearance for Tathor's sake; they may yet cave in."

Alagon was pacing back and forth around the fire pit. "We cannot bet on it; we shall have to pick up the pace."

"Oh dear," said Felrion and Taensirion at the same time.

"Why don't we just give up?"

Gasps were audible as all the elves turned to stare at Galion, who had his head down, poking at a lump of charcoal with a stick.

"Look," the butler continued, heedless of the other elves' reactions, "let's be honest. Maybe the she-elves were trying to look good, but they've been feasting while we're eating fish. We've lost. I don't know about all of you, but I miss my wife and I want to go home."

There was a moment of total silence.

"You would surrender?" Alagon growled dangerously.

"Why not? I've had enough, and you know what?" Galion bent down to gather the cooking supplies piled by his designated log. "I'm going home."

Alagon stepped in front of him. "Ruscan? Tairen?"

The two raised their eyebrows in an almost identical manner. "Yes?" asked Ruscan.

"Arrest this elf."

"What?" Tathor yelped.

"Arrest Galion?" Felrion repeated, wondering if he'd heard right.

Alagon didn't even look at either of them. "You heard me. Feren, there is rope in my tree; go fetch it." Feren ran off to do so.

Galion's mouth was hanging open. "You can't do this!"

"I must agree." This was Taensirion, who could not believe Alagon was willing to go this far. "You have no right."

"This elf expressed intent to commit treason; I have every right. Now, are you with me or against me?" Alagon snapped his fingers as Ruscan and Tairen hesitated. "Any time now, please."

They looked at each other. "Should we, Ada?" asked Tairen.

"Sure, why not?" Both elves stepped forward and grabbed the butler, who was too startled to struggle.

Feren returned with a handful of ropes and approached Galion, only to be blocked when Tathor stepped into his path. "Stay away from my Ada!" the elfling yelled.

"Tie up that one, as well," Alagon added as an afterthought. "He sold vital information to the enemy."

Legolas cried out as Feren reached for his friend. "Tathor!"

Alagon spun on him. "Would you like to join him?"

"No." The prince shrunk back.

"Hmm." Alagon glanced over his shoulder to check that Galion was being properly tied to the stump by the log circle, then took a rope from Feren and handed it to the prince. "Prove your loyalty, if you will."

Legolas swallowed hard and approached his friend. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he bound Tathor's hands; the younger elfling didn't struggle, but betrayal filled his eyes.

Alagon supervised this, then turned to Taensirion and Felrion. "And you two... are you with us or against us?"

"This is going to be a fun story to share with the she-elves," Felrion deadpanned. "Fine, I won't cause any trouble; don't take this too far."

Alagon mentally marked him as a potential dissenter and turned his eyes to Taensirion.

The Sinda wanted to ask if Alagon had lost his mind, but his survival instinct told him that was a very, very bad idea. He cleared his throat.

"Yes?"

"Ah..." Taensirion tried to think of a way out that would not leave him tied to the stump with Galion and Tathor. "If the king agrees, I will follow his lead."

Alagon scoffed. "Very well, go fill him in. And you, Firith? Will you join your father and brother?"

Firith tore his eyes from his family members' punishment, gulped, and said, "Yes, sir."

. . . . . .

"Thranduil!"

The king finally sat up in his hammock, gripping a branch to keep his balance. "What?" He could see the rest of the elves down in the log circle, including... oh.

"Alagon has, um... All right, it sounds silly now that I am saying it out loud, but Alagon has staged a rebellion and tied Galion and Tathor to a stump. Please make him stop."

Thranduil stared at him, blinked twice, and lay down again, pulling his blanket over his head. "You are an adult."

Taensirion sighed, looked down at the log circle—Alagon had lined up his supporters and was giving them a lecture—sighed again, and began the climb down. "All right..."

. . . . . .

"How many days do we have left?" Faena asked Milaera.

"Let me see... this is day five... we will have completed four full days this afternoon, so... three?"

"Three days, are you serious?" Kilvara groaned. "Sheesh..."

Silana plopped down on the floor next to them and propped her chin in her hands. "Do you think all the husbands and brothers and such will last that long?"

"I do not know," said Milaera thoughtfully. "They may be stubborn enough."

"Nana thought about sending food with Tathor to tempt them, but decided his stories would be enough," Silana commented.

"We certainly have enough leftovers," Faena said.

Milaera nodded. "I am not used to not needing to cook; it frees up a few hours of my day. Say, do any of you have ideas for today?"

"I've been thinking about building a squirrel obstacle course," mused Silana.

The other three blinked. "...Okay," Milaera replied. "Anything else?"

Kilvara rubbed her chin. "My sister—not Kimbrel, the other one—showed me an eagle nest with two chicks a few weeks ago. We could go see how they're doing."

"I know where to find some fox kits!" Silana chirped.

"And I heard Caliel talking about a badger den," Sheyni piped up from the other side of the couch.

"And what about elk calves?" Milaera grinned. "Baby-animal-themed hike it is!"

. . . . . .

Alagon huffed in frustration and rubbed a hand over his face. "If only we knew exactly what would count as cheating," he remarked to Thranduil, Feren, Ruscan, Tairen, Heledir, and Firith. (He had sent Taensirion and Felrion off to look for food, since he trusted them not to run away but no further, while Legolas was assigned to guard Tathor and Galion, especially the latter since he had been untied to allow him to cook dinner.)

"That's the thing, isn't it?" Ruscan agreed. "We can't do much to sabotage them without knowing."

Heledir was beginning to agree with his father-in-law that this had gone way too far, but he knew better than to say so. He wondered what the king thought of all this; Thranduil seemed in better shape now, but his comments had for the most part been eye-rolls and smirks (especially the former), which Alagon clearly did not appreciate. "If I may change the topic for a moment..." He waited for Alagon to nod. "You are not going to leave Tathor and Galion tied to that lump of wood all night, are you? Because, er, not to challenge your authority, but, ah..."

Ruscan helped him. "Taensirion and Felrion will be a lot more likely to cause trouble if they think you're being cruel, especially to the elfling."

Alagon nodded thoughtfully. "Fair point; we will have to set a guard."

"To make sure they do not run off, you mean?" Heledir clarified.

"Yes, of course. Now, where were we?"

. . . . . .

"Awwwwwww."

"Cute little guys, aren't they?"

"I suppose now if any of the men ask if we really did see bear cubs like I told Tathor, we can truthfully tell them yes," Silana remarked.

"True, true... where did Kimbrel go now?" Kilvara looked around, checking the ground under their tree and all the surrounding branches.

"I'm over here," said a grumpy voice on the other side of the tree, and the other eight she-elves all leaned around the trunk, where they saw Kimbrel sitting on a branch with her arms crossed, deliberately not looking at them. "I hate..." She waved her arms to indicate the surrounding area. "...this!"

Kilvara rolled her eyes. "You used to like nature."

"Well—I—" Kimbrel glared at nothing in particular, then kicked the trunk of the tree and dropped down to the ground (safely out of range of the mother bear) before stomping off.

"Ughhhh," was Kilvara's reaction.

"I hate to say it, but 'prickly' is a good word for her," Aleinia admitted.

"Though honestly, she isn't normally that bad," said Silana. "Maybe you should go after her, Kilvara?"

The red-haired elf groaned. "I should..."

Lanthirel gave her a nudge. "Go on. She was just starting to warm up to us, and we do not want to undo that."

"Sometimes I wish I was an only child," Kilvara complained, but she went.

She found Kimbrel kicking a fallen log, which was likely quite satisfying given that said log was rotting, and a chunk broke off with every blow. "Stupid—" Thump. "—forest!" Thump. "Stupid—" Thump. "—competition!" Thump. "Go away, Kilvara!"

Her sister ignored her words. "Look, I know you miss him, but you don't have to be such a thorn in our shoes because of it."

"Just shut up, will you?" But then Kimbrel burst into tears without warning.

"Oh, Kim." Annoyed as she was, Kilvara wrapped her little sister in a hug.

"It's Kimbrel," she choked through her sobs, leaning into Kilvara despite herself. "Not—Kim."

"Deal with it."

Kimbrel sniffled. "I want Alagon to come back."

"I know, sis... I miss Felrion, too, but we can get through this together, right?"

"Your friends don't want me there, Kilvara."

"Caliel does; she likes you." Kilvara wasn't completely sure that was true, but the pinkish-haired she-elf had literally volunteered for the job of "Kimbrel's friend".

"No, she doesn't."

"Does too. Now come on, we're going to go home and eat more leftovers with our friends."

"Your friends, but fine."

. . . . . .

Kilvara had never realized how much of a ray of endless sunshine Caliel could be when needed.

"I found kittens!" the blond she-elf announced, skidding to a stop and thrusting a ball of fur into Kimbrel's hands. "There are cats in the stable, and one has babies! This one jumped on my head."

Kimbrel's pouting was disrupted by the fuzzy creature, which meowed happily at her. "It's cute, I guess," she mumbled grudgingly.

"There are five more," Caliel told the others. "I don't think their Nana will mind if we borrow this one for a bit."

Everyone took a moment to stroke the kitty, though Caliel subtly kicked anyone who tried to take it from Kimbrel; one of the foals they'd previously been watching also came to sniff the tiny furball.

"We should stay up all night," Caliel declared out of nowhere.

"Ooh," said Silana, and Kilvara nodded thoughtfully.

"I... do not like this idea," Faena disagreed, and Milaera took her sister's side.

"C'mon, we've got to do it at least once," Caliel argued.

Silana added, "And this way we will have three nights to recover!"

Lanthirel pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Aleinia? Kimbrel? Sheyni?"

Aleinia shrugged. "Sounds fun."

"We probably should, just to say we did." Sheyni shrugged.

Caliel bumped Kimbrel. "C'monnnnn. It'll be fun."

"Fiiiiine," Kimbrel huffed, petting the kitten.

Faena and Milaera gave in. "All right..."

. . . . . .

"Psst. Elfling."

Tathor blinked until he could see who perched on the branch above him, having no idea what time it was except that it was dark. "Hello, A—"

Alagon slapped his hand over the elfling's mouth. "SHH!"

"Mm's mwmng mn?"

"Hush," the advisor insisted, and he slowly removed his hand from the boy's mouth.

"What's going on?" Tathor whispered.

Alagon narrowed his eyes at him. "When you were with the she-elves," he started.

"Yeah?"

Alagon hesitated, and Tathor waited patiently; after all, he could tell that whatever this was, it was hard for the older elf to talk about, and while Alagon had made Legolas tie Tathor to a stump earlier, the elfling was really bad at grudges.

The red-haired elf cleared his throat (quietly, of course). "Did you... see Kimbrel?"

"Uh-huh, she was canoeing with my Nana when I got there."

"Canoeing?" Alagon repeated.

"Yup, they were the only ones still out there when I came, and I think she was really having fun even though she really didn't want to get wet—"

"Thank you," Alagon interrupted to shut him up. "And later?"

"I wasn't really paying attention, but she and Nana were talking a lot—Lanthirel said Nana is trying to make friends with her."

Alagon tried to remember which she-elf was the child's mother. He knew the boy was Felrion's apprentice... was he one of the butler's children? That seemed likely, since he looked like Firith, who Alagon was mostly certain was Galion's son. Maybe their mother was the blond Silvan who appeared to have no occupation whatsoever. "I see. Did she seem... you know..."

"Happy?" Tathor guessed.

"Yes. Or upset? Did she say anything to you?"

Tathor shrugged. "I really can't say, but she seemed fine, I guess. I've never seen her smile that much." (Tathor was not aware that Kimbrel had been threatened into acting cheerful for his sake.)

Alagon couldn't believe it; he'd been told Kimbrel hated it when he was gone, but then again, she had never said anything, and surely she would if there were a problem. Perhaps her siblings and parents were mistaken? But he himself had noticed her displaying behaviors that would indicate stress before he left on journeys, or relief when he returned... Perhaps it was the presence of all the other females? Though if that was the case, why had she not previously sought them out when he was away?

Alagon frowned and shook the whole idea away; evidently Kimbrel was fine without him this time, which both frustrated and relieved him, in that order. "Thank you," he told the elfling curtly. "You will not repeat what we spoke of this night to anyone, do you understand?"

"Yessir," Tathor mumbled around a yawn.

. . . . . .

"Ooh, here's one! Faena!"

"Noooooo." The blond Sinda pulled her blanket over her head. "Go away, I am sleeping."

Kilvara giggled. "No, you're not, now come out of there and answer my question."

"Kilvara, be nice to my poor daughter," said Lanthirel firmly; she was the most awake out of any of them, it appeared.

"Fine, I'll ask you, then... what's the most embarrassing thing any of your children have ever done?"

Faena, Milaera, and Silana all squeaked at the same time.

"Oh my... I think the most embarrassing thing I am going to tell you about—"

Her daughters sighed in relief.

"—was when Silana tried to sacrifice a chicken in front of a human king."

The other she-elves' expressions all fell somewhere between amusement and disgust, with Caliel and Kimbrel on opposite ends of the spectrum; Aleinia choked on the brownie she was eating (they had plenty of sugar on hand, of course) and coughed out, "she did what now? When was this?!"

"Before you came along," Lanthirel assured her friend and fellow raiser of said child.

"There were reasons," Silana said defensively.

"I remember that," Milaera mused. "Ada held it together until he left the room and then laughed so hard he cried."

"King Oropher was not amused." Lanthirel was, perhaps, stating the obvious. "Is it my turn now?"

Caliel raised her hand. "Can we take a break and go run around outside?"

"Why?" inquired Milaera.

"For fun, of course. We could play hide-and-seek!"

"Sounds great!" said Aleinia, who was loopy from tiredness and a coffee overdose.

"Let's go!" yelled Kilvara, who was just plain hyper.

"I'm good with that," yawned Silana.

"Mm, sure, whatever." Kimbrel, apparently, was somehow in shock from staying up too late; her eyes were wide and unfocused.

"Outside we go!" Caliel shouted, running for the door and dragging Kimbrel along. Aleinia thought to grab Faena, who complained surprisingly little, though her eyes had adopted that glazed look that suggested she was literally asleep on her feet.

. . . . . .

It was morning, and Caliel was the only one still awake.

Faena and Milaera had fallen asleep first, and hardest; they were wrapped in a blanket together in one corner of the room, where they'd finally escaped as soon as the sun came up.

Sheyni was next, lying sideways in a comfortable chair with a quilt Lanthirel had draped over her when it became clear she was out cold. Aleinia had passed out on the floor next to her soon after, propped up in the corner made by the back of the chair and the wall.

Kilvara and Kimbrel had fought over the couch for a bit before falling asleep there, one on top of the other.

Silana was so hyper she'd almost woken the others up several times before Lanthirel coaxed her onto a mattress; she was out in seconds.

And finally, Lanthirel, with a tired grin at Caliel, curled up next to her daughter and went to sleep as well.

Caliel watched them for a while with a strange sort of pride (her mothering instincts kicking in, probably, or else Lanthirel was rubbing off on her) before she moved slowly and silently for the doorway—elves slept with their eyes open, after all, and sudden movement might startle them awake. Then it was into the kitchen to see if she still remembered how to make breakfast after all these years being married to Galion.

. . . . . .

"You can't tie them up all day, that's just cruel," Felrion insisted for the third time.

Alagon started to respond, but Tairen beat him to it.

"He's right, you know. Remember, your leadership is somewhat tentative since you took over by force, and public opinion will be significantly lowered if you are seen as abusing the elfling, especially; doubly so since everyone here knows both the prisoners. I would recommend treating them as mercifully as we can manage."

"I never knew your talents could be used for evil," Felrion remarked dryly. He and Tairen had deep conversations about elven psychology now and then, and he knew Tairen was effectively a part-time unofficial advisor to the king, but in his opinion, the younger elf had chosen the wrong side here.

Alagon ignored the healer and mentally debated whether he trusted Tairen—after all, the elf's grandfather seemed to be against Alagon's leadership, though Taensirion was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Tairen seemed sincere enough, however, and he'd tended to follow his father on everything; Alagon was more certain of Ruscan's loyalty than anyone else's except Feren (and that pesky prince, whom the advisor nonetheless wasn't about to trust with anything important). "Very well," he decided reluctantly. "We will untie them for a few minutes every hour, but keep their hands bound and have... hmm... Feren and Ruscan—your father, I mean—keep a close watch on them."

Tairen hid his grin as he bowed; he was loving this week-long psychological experiment and hoped his cousin Sheyni would give a good record of the females' activities.

Heledir wandered over. "So, what are we doing today? Please tell me you know."

"Apparently we're keeping prisoners," Felrion muttered.

Alagon again considered tying him up with the other troublemakers, but decided he'd better avoid any more arrests for now if he could; besides, while he found his brother-in-law (or rather, his wife's brother-in-law) annoying, he didn't think the healer was about to cause any real trouble... probably. "Another sparring tournament?"

"I believe we are still recovering from last time," Heledir declined politely.

"...practice battle formations...?" He suggested hopefully.

"Or," said the Sinda brightly, "we could play a game."

"All right, fine. What game?"

"Hmm. Let me think."

Alagon stood there awkwardly while Heledir thought; Felrion eventually wandered back to the log circle to make sure the ropes weren't chafing Tathor and Galion's skin. "Hmm," said the Sinda finally, in a tone which implied he had thought of an intriguing idea. "Taensirion?" he asked the elf who was wandering past them to check on the king, who was having another bad day and not talking to any of them.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember that... er... recreational activity the young solders used to do in Doriath? You know, the..." He made a hand signal which Alagon interpreted as an elf jumping onto a sled, which then slid downhill. "Or was that after your time?"

Taensirion snorted and put a hand over his eyes. "Yes, we did that. Do not tell me you are thinking of stealing shields?"

"I am amazed that is your objection."

"It sounds safer than many Silvan games, in all honesty... I suppose we could get some from the armory if we do not disclose our intent. Oh, why not?" He grinned. "It would hardly be the only way we have broken the rules this week."

Heledir chuckled. "I was not expecting you to agree so quickly; is the atmosphere getting to you?"

Taensirion shrugged helplessly. "We need to do something, after all."

. . . . . .

"My lord, you may wish to see this," Taensirion called toward Thranduil's tree as he, Ruscan, and Feren returned, bearing three large, leaf-shaped shields each.

Legolas scampered down the tree and the king poked his head out of the leaves to watch as his elfling raced up to the returning elves and asked, "What are those for?"

Taensirion rethought this idea one final time—he just knew this was going to become popular among the young elves—and said, "We are going to show you something we used to do in Doriath."

Heledir was grinning. "All you need," he told the other elves (including Galion and Tathor, who listened attentively from their log), "is a shield of any sort and a steep enough slope—snow is best, but mossy bark will do." Holding one shield, he walked over to the largest tree around the clearing and jumped up onto a long, straight root. "Watch this."

The others watched as he stepped onto the shield and slid down the root, hopping off right before the shield hit the dirt. Heledir bowed.

"Boring," remarked the unimpressed prince. "We need a longer slope."

Feren looked around and pointed upward. "How about up there?"

"No," said Felrion firmly.

Legolas pouted. "Why not?"

"Guess."

Tathor spoke up from behind them. "There's a leaning tree over that way that might work."

The unrestrained elves all wandered in that direction. "Feren, help me move the prisoners," Alagon ordered.

"Can't Tathor try shield-sledding?" Legolas protested.

"No."

The tree—a giant half-fallen trunk stuck in the fork of another tree's branches—was long enough for a full five seconds of sliding, steep and mossy enough to go fast, and wide enough for two elves to slide down at once with only a moderate likelihood of one being knocked off the side. It was a little too high on one side and slippery to earn Felrion's approval, but no one listened to his half-hearted warning, and the elves were soon taking turns sliding down the long trunk, usually to land in the dirt. Only Alagon, Thranduil, and Felrion stayed with the two prisoners—one to guard them, one not wanting to play games today, and the third having brought one of his books to read until someone got hurt.

"Ada, this is fun, come join us!"

"No thank you, Legolas."

"You're no fun," Legolas muttered, and he started to climb up the tree, then remembered his own tactics and ran over to his father. "Please come?"

Thranduil almost did, but Legolas looked so much like the king's lost wife, more so every year... Tears pricked Thranduil's eyes and he looked away, shaking his head. "No, Legolas."

Legolas wilted a little, but he was used to his father's moods by now, and he bravely turned to Alagon instead. "Please may Tathor come play with us?"

"Absolutely not."

"Let the boy go," Thranduil snapped, too harshly. He had hurt his child's feelings, and would not allow Alagon to do the same.

Alagon backed up a step and bent to untie Tathor. "Yes, my lord," he said with rare meekness. "The butler as well?"

"I'm fine where I am, but thank you," Galion assured him cheerfully, seeing that the harsh reprimand had stung Alagon; the advisor-general visited the king's palace quarters often, so the butler knew he prized authority while also not wanting to overstep the king's.

Alagon was confused by the butler's behavior (and even more so when Tathor thanked him before running off with Legolas—did the child not realize his new freedom was only temporary?), but he shook himself mentally and managed to regain most of his lost pride. After all, competition or no competition, the king still outranked him by far and always would.

. . . . . .

"I said DO NOT TALK TO ME RIGHT NOW."

Sheyni squeaked and backed away quickly. "Sorry, Nana!" She left to a safer room, which happened to be the one where Lanthirel, Kilvara, Kimbrel, and Caliel were playing a card game.

Faena made a growling sound and lay back down on the couch; she was unsuccessfully trying to go back to sleep after being woken up for lunch. Aleinia, in fact, was the only one of the four in the living room who had so far managed to do so; she'd stolen Silana's mattress.

"Stop breathing so loudly," muttered Milaera, who had her head under a blanket.

"I can't fix my breathing."

"Try."

"Please shut up." Silana was trying to read by the window; she was the most functional of Lanthirel's three daughters, which wasn't saying much. They'd all inherited their father's inability to deal with sleep deprivation to some extent.

Faena—who was in the worst mood of all—threw one of the couch pillows at her sister.

"Hey!" But Silana caught herself before a real fight could break out, and slid out the window, saying, "This is a bad idea; I'll be on the roof."

Faena and Milaera had only a few seconds of peace before Lanthirel appeared in the doorway, having come to make sure her children were not about to cause each other serious harm. "Where is Silana?"

"On the roof," Milaera answered in as reasonable a tone as possible. "Please leave us alone, Nana."

Faena knew anything she said would come out much more harshly or rudely than it should.

Lanthirel smiled wryly to herself and left without another word, returning to her card game with the red-haired sisters, Caliel (who was yawning constantly due to not having slept in more than a day), and now Sheyni, who luckily took after her father in this case.

. . . . . .

Felrion only whispered "I told you so" under his breath once as he treated Heledir's broken wrist; it was fitting, he thought, that the elf whose idea this had been was the one to get hurt.

"I suppose I deserve this," Heledir mused good-naturedly.

"I'd be inclined to agree," said Felrion, patting his uninjured hand. "This should heal in a week or two." Which was much better than a human or dwarf would get.

The Master of Trade grinned sheepishly. "I do not suppose you could fudge the specifics of how it happened if Faena asks?"

"Nope," said Felrion and Ruscan at the same time.

"Figures. All right, I guess we had better stop tree-sledding."

"So now wha—"

Alagon interrupted Legolas. "Sparring practice. We have neglected it for five days."

"But—"

"I thought we could go swi—"

"Sparring practice." Alagon swept his gaze around the group, daring any of them to challenge his authority.

None did.

. . . . . .

"Are you joking?"

Alagon, being too young to have witnessed the many attempts by various elves to teach Felrion to use knives or swords, arched one dark eyebrow. "You know me better than that, healer; take the blades."

It said a lot, thought Felrion, that his wife's sister's husband had brought a whole bundle of sharp metal rather than just his own shortswords. "I'm not going to humiliate myself for your entertainment."

The eyebrow went even higher. "Funny, I thought standard procedure was for all healers to receive basic combat training."

Taensirion, who knew very, very well how sensitive Felrion was about this topic, tried to step in to prevent the nasty disagreement he saw approaching. "That was after he—"

Alagon snapped his fingers to interrupt the Sinda without looking at him. "Silence."

"...Excuse me?" Taensirion said, more concerned with the rudeness of the gesture than the fact that Alagon was definitely not allowed to shush him in that manner, seeing as they were of equal rank and Taensirion was his senior by more than two millennia in both age and time in the position.

As usual, Alagon paid no attention to him. "You will not fight?" he confirmed of the healer, a dangerous smile growing on his face.

"I don't think so, no." Felrion glared at him, showing no fear.

"Arrest him," Alagon ordered Ruscan and Feren.

"What?" Felrion twisted away, but was grabbed anyway by the two soldiers. "This has gone much too far, Alagon—"

"Has it?" Alagon, unconcerned, looked around at the others. "You voted me into authority, did you not?"

Some of the others shifted uncomfortably, especially Legolas and Heledir; Tathor booed from the stump and was quickly kicked by his father to prevent him from getting beaten up. Alagon flushed slightly but otherwise pretended not to hear.

"Perhaps you are taking your role too seriously," suggested Taensirion, thinking that this game of theirs was getting far out of hand, hopefully only for them and not the she-elves.

Alagon turned to him calmly. "Would you like to join him?"

Now Heledir, Ruscan, Feren, and Tairen all tensed, none of them wanting to tie up Taensirion.

Alagon noticed this and did not wait for Taensirion to finish considering his next words. "I thought not. Watch your mouth, then."

As Alagon oversaw Felrion's imprisonment, Taensirion slipped off to the king's tree, where Thranduil was sitting and staring off into the distance. "Alagon tied up—"

"I DO NOT CARE, TAENSIRION!"

The advisor shrank back, realizing he had caught the king at a very bad moment; still, Thranduil was the only one likely to stop Alagon's power grab, so he dared to say, "If you would only—"

"Go."

"Plea—"

"Go!"

. . . . . .

At Lanthirel's house that evening, dinner was a mostly quiet affair—mainly to avoid provoking the wrath of the host's three grouchy daughters, and to keep from waking up Caliel, who finally passed out with her face in a bowl of salad (from which she was soon removed to prevent choking). Oddly enough, Kimbrel was feeling better than most of them—sleep deprivation seemed to leave her meek and mildly confused—and thus Aleinia was able to engage her in an amiable whispered conversation while Lanthirel and Kilvara debated how to greet the males when they returned in a little over a day and a half; Faena, Milaera, and Silana ate quickly so they could go back to bed; and Sheyni read a book in silence.

. . . . . .

"Leave them."

"You mean... all night?" asked Tairen in surprise as he stopped untying the prisoners.

"No, I mean all year," Alagon sneered sarcastically before walking away.

Galion and Tathor bowed their heads in silent acceptance, but Felrion glared as Tairen retied his bonds. "You're really going along with him?"

Tairen grinned unashamedly. "C'mon, Felrion, it is only a game. No hard feelings, right?"

Felrion glared at him. "I hope someday someone ties you up all night." Even Sky had never left him tied for more than a few hours.

"Sorry," said Tairen. "Of course, you may not be here all night." Before any of them could ask what he meant, he was on his way to his sleeping tree.

"It's okay, Felrion," said Tathor optimistically. "At least it's a nice night."

It was indeed; it was warm out, a soft breeze created a soothing rustling in the leaves, and they had a good view of the stars for being on the ground. Felrion still grumbled until his apprentice stopped trying to cheer him up.

Soon all elven movement in the immediate area ceased, and after a while, Felrion's muscles began to cramp. He soon gave up on finding a better position and tried to distract himself by wondering what Kilvara was doing right now... hopefully sleeping.

"Psst!"

Galion and Tathor jumped, startled, while Felrion merely turned his head. "Legolas!" he whispered, a sudden hope rising in him that he might not have to spend the night here after all.

The nearly-grown elfling grinned at them from under the hood of the cloak hiding his blond hair. "We're gonna go hide in the forest until it is time to go home," he told them, wasting no time in setting his nimble fingers to work on Tathor's ropes.

"Didn't Alagon post a guard?" Felrion worried.

Legolas winked and pointed at himself.

. . . . . .

Tairen watched as four dark shapes snuck into the trees and went back down laden with bundles, probably entirely of their own possessions in at least three of their cases. The half-Sinda had thought this might happen; the young prince's best friend and two of his role models had been tied to a stump, and Alagon was bad at both reading facial cues and taking elflings seriously, so the likely outcome was clear when Legolas took the second watch. Tairen, being not entirely cold-hearted and wanting to see where this might go, was willing to help their cause.

It seemed to him that there was another elf who ought to go with him, one who might face Alagon's wrath otherwise and possibly go after the rebels anyway. Tairen found an acorn that had fallen into his hammock, lined up his shot, and lobbed the nut at his sleeping grandfather's head before pretending to be asleep himself.

. . . . . .

Taensirion was startled awake by a stinging sensation on his forehead, but was distracted by movement nearby. His first thought was that Thranduil might need his help, but no, this blond elf was too small—smaller even than Legolas. Tathor?

Wait...

. . . . . .

"I've got everything," Tathor whispered after scurrying down the tree. "I even stole some of the peppermint candies you saw Feren eating, Legolas." He glanced at his father to make sure this was allowed.

"He had candy and didn't tell us?" said Galion, taking one from the bag; Feren hadn't exactly been nice over the past day.

Legolas nudged them and gestured for them and Felrion to follow him. "Let's go before anyone wakes up and sees us."

But before they had gone ten steps, they were startled by Taensirion's voice. "Where are you going?"

They all turned around and grinned guiltily in the darkness. "We're escaping," Felrion told him truthfully.

"Not back to the she-elves," Legolas made sure to state.

"Can't we?" Galion asked wistfully.

"No," said Legolas.

Taensirion held up his hand to quiet them. "May I come with you?"

"What about the king?" Galion reminded him.

Taensirion had not thought of that. "It is only for one day," he murmured eventually. "And Tairen has done a lot of work with grieving elves; he should be able to handle anything that happens. I believe Thranduil will be all right."

"I have an idea," Legolas whispered, and he slipped away. He returned only moments later with Taensirion's possessions, all stuffed hastily into their bag. "I used your ink and some paper," he told the Sinda.

"Ah." Taensirion understood. "Come on, then." The five elves darted off into the night.

In his hammock above them, Tairen chuckled to himself.

. . . . . .

"Why's it so dark?" Galion muttered after tripping over a root for the third time.

"Because there's barely a moon tonight and we're on the forest floor so no one will see us in case they come looking, which means we're under lots of leaves," Tathor explained helpfully.

"Right," muttered the butler.

"Can you really not see?" Taensirion, ahead of them because he was moving much more easily in the thick brush, paused to wait.

"I can sort of see, but mostly the trees are guiding me," announced Legolas, who was hopping from root to branch to root in a manner that caused Tathor to acquire multiple scrapes when he tried to imitate it. Of course, the prince wasn't going to mention that he knew how to do this because he'd been sneaking out of the palace lately to explore at night (not that it would've changed anything if he had, since Taensirion and Galion already knew due to Thranduil finding out and choosing not to fight the elfling on this one since the forests were quite safe these days).

"Something just touched me," Tathor informed them without much alarm. "I guess it probably wasn't a ghost?"

"It was one of those big black moths," Taensirion told him. "There are a lot of them fluttering around."

The others looked around but couldn't see anything, causing Tathor to sigh regretfully.

"By the way, where are we going?" Taensirion asked curiously.

They all looked at each other, except for Legolas, who said, "You'll see; we are nearly there. Do you hear the creek?"

Each elf cocked a pointed ear in their direction of travel, then nodded to themselves. A few minutes later, they arrived at a patch of weeping willows around a small pond; Legolas led them into the middle where they would be fully hidden. "I can keep watch," the prince volunteered, already ducking back outside.

"You should sleep," Galion protested.

"Nah."

"Just like his mother," Felrion sighed.

. . . . . .

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE GONE?!"

Heledir (behind whom Ruscan, Tairen, and Firith were hiding) somehow stayed calm. "I mean Legolas apparently untied them and they all ran off. Sir."

Alagon seemed about to burst something. "Even Taensirion?! WHICH of you was supposed to be on watch?!"

"He switches to Silvan when he's upset," Tairen realized; he found this fascinating due to Alagon's preference normally being for formal Sindarin.

"What was that?" Alagon snapped, indeed in Silvan.

"Firith! It was Firith!" Tairen shoved the blond elf out from behind Heledir, and Firith stood frozen in utter terror. "Or rather," he added so poor Firith didn't get punished, "he would have been on watch after Legolas, had the prince woken him up."

Alagon stared at Firith until the young elf panicked and ran away, then snarled a few choice words in Silvan and stomped off, since he knew better than to insult the prince within hearing range of Thranduil, assuming the king was even awake. Some help the monarch had been this week.

As a matter of fact, Thranduil was awake—just rereading the note his son had left as he waited for the yelling to settle down.

Ada, it said in the elegant cursive Legolas had been forced to learn for the sake of the prince's script being readable later in life, I cannot stand Alagon's treatment of my friends anymore, so I have rescued Tathor, Galion, and Felrion. Taen is coming with us as well. I hope you will not worry, as I am nearly an adult and know the forest very well.

Also, Taen and Galion are worried about you—they are afraid you may have one of your bad days tomorrow and need their help. I know you are more resilient than that, but I hope I will have friends as good as them when I get older.

See you tomorrow,

Legolas

Sometimes it was nice to know that the sweet elfling of a few years ago was still there underneath the young anarchist currently living in Thranduil's house... and that Legolas could write a proper letter when he so desired.

. . . . . .

"Good morning, everyone. I am sorry I was such a bear yesterday..." Faena smiled apologetically as she joined the others for breakfast.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Kilvara mumbled around a mouthful of eggs. "Last day together, everyone—what should we do?"

Kimbrel grumbled something unintelligible at her.

"One would think you two switched personalities yesterday," Aleinia remarked, pointing at Kimbrel and then Faena with her fork.

Caliel, meanwhile, elbowed Kimbrel, who grunted irritably. "Cheer up; Alagon'll be back tomorrow around noon."

Kimbrel perked up noticeably. "True."

"Why don't we just relax?" Aleinia suggested. "We could have a picnic, and maybe play some games?"

"I would like to go swimming," Silana added.

"Sounds perfect to me," said Lanthirel. "Any protests?"

There were none.

. . . . . .

"...trees will not tell me anything..." Alagon muttered as he paced next to the log circle.

"Calm down and come eat, will you?" Heledir called to him (only to be ignored). "Which reminds me, thank you for cooking, Firith."

"I'm glad I could be of service."

Thranduil—in an unusually cheerful mood for the most part—patted the young elf's shoulder almost fondly and said, "I doubt you will convince the trees to give you Legolas's location, Alagon; even I can rarely do so anymore."

"That is what I said," the advisor growled.

"Sit down and eat," Thranduil ordered in his king voice, "and then we shall strategize, agreed?"

Look who just now remembered we existed, Alagon thought (but wisely kept to himself).

. . . . . .

"I wonder if they've noticed we stole half their food supplies," Felrion wondered.

Galion shrugged. "I'll bet Firith cooked; he wouldn't say anything... hey, about what I said last night."

Taensirion, reclined against the tree until this moment, now sat up and cleared his throat. "About that, indeed—I think we ought to complete the week, Galion. Hear me out, if you will? While I am ready enough to swallow my pride and go home—Lanthirel already knows I get homesick every time I have to travel—I believe this contest is quite important to some of our friends, to prove they are, as the humans would say, 'manly' enough."

Legolas was caught off guard by the realization that they were allowed to talk about this now.

"I miss Kilvara," Felrion admitted, automatically checking over his shoulder for Alagon, the no-feelings rule having been thoroughly beaten into all of them over the two days it was in effect. "But I'll stay out here another day to..." He coughed, then continued under his breath, "...remind myself how to be independent."

Taensirion and Galion laughed. "Is that how it is?" the former chuckled.

"Just... I mean... I love her and I know how lucky I am, but... to not have to tell anyone every tiny thing I did all day, you know?"

Taensirion and Galion started to answer, then realized they were probably the ones who wanted to know every detail of their spouses' lives in their marriages and stopped in mild confusion.

"I miss Nana and Lanthirel and Kilvara," Tathor put in when no one talked for a few moments. "And Silana. But I'm good with it if you want to stick out the last day."

The others nodded, then looked at Legolas, who looked down. "I do not really have anyone to miss, I guess."

Felrion put his hand on the prince's knee, Taensirion hugged him, and Galion and Tathor gave him mournful looks.

"Mmph! Taen!" The prince wriggled away and scrunched his nose at the advisor, though he was secretly grateful for the support. "Also, we will have to get back at Alagon and his lackeys somehow."

Felrion looked around at their little band of five and said, "I'm not sure we're the best group for revenge, princeling. Sorry."

A grin slowly spread across Legolas's face. "Challenge accepted."

. . . . . .

"You do not like babies?!" Faena gasped, sitting bolt-upright to stare at Kimbrel. All the she-elves were sitting or lying in the grass after swimming in a calm part of the river (even Kimbrel had eventually been coaxed into the water by Caliel, who was pretty good at coaxing given her two rather cautious children).

"They're loud and gross and needy," the red-haired elf said contemptuously.

"They are sweet and adorable and precious!"

Caliel defended her new friend. "Not all she-elves have to be obsessed with babies; I like them all right, but I don't love them unless they're mine."

"Alagon doesn't like elflings, either, so they make a good pair." Kilvara sniffed disdainfully, much as Kimbrel had at the mention of infants a few moments ago.

"We have agreed never to have children," Kimbrel confirmed scornfully and without looking at her older sister.

Lanthirel looked around at her daughters and oldest granddaughter and remarked, "You do not know what you are missing, I think."

"Morning sickness, swollen feet, labor pains, night feedings, spitting up, toilet training, screaming tantrums?"

"How do you know about all that?" wondered Kilvara.

"Kyra."

"Figures. That's our sister," Kilvara explained for those who didn't know, which was most of them because Kyra lived way up north with her husband, a weaponsmith. "She raised five daughters."

"Impressive," said Silana. "And she was permanently scarred?"

"That, or she's loved to complain since birth. Who knows?"

. . . . . .

"So we do not know where they are," Alagon repeated.

"Nope," said Ruscan.

"And we cannot track them because the prince, a forty-year-old elfling, has a closer connection with the trees than any of you and will sense us coming."

"Forty-four," Thranduil corrected, and was ignored.

"And none of you have any ideas."

"Nope." Ruscan.

"Not really, no." Tairen.

"I do not." Heledir.

"Nor I." Thranduil.

"Sorry." Feren.

Firith wasn't even sure which side he was on, or why everyone found it necessary to pick sides to begin with. They'd been civilized a day ago... Sort of.

The elves thought silently for a while.

Heledir began, "I wonder if they went ba—"

"We are staying," Alagon interrupted him.

"I said th—"

"If they surrendered, all the more reason for us to stay for the final day and prove we are strong, even if they are not." The red-haired elf glared around at the others.

Thranduil would have been laughing once, but now his face showed no humor despite his words as he said, "Though you may not have noticed, this is not actually a war."

"On the contrary!" Alagon objected. "The consequences if we lose—"

Ruscan snorted, interrupting the rant, and leaned back against the log he was sitting against. "Consequences, huh?"

Heledir gave an amused sort of groan and lay down lengthwise on the log; Feren openly laughed, while Thranduil decided he was tired of this whole adventure. Firith continued polishing the frying pan as he'd been doing for a while now, trying to look unimportant.

Tairen, on the other hand, leaned over his log and propped his chin on his hand. "Don't tell me you think you will lose your wife's respect over something like this."

Alagon opened his mouth and then closed it.

Tairen wrote that down. "I see."

"I worry about you," Heledir told Alagon, shaking his head and chuckling.

"I—" The Silvan elf snapped his mouth shut and deliberately looked away.

Tairen turned to the others and shrugged; Ruscan and Heledir both mouthed "Leave him alone" scoldingly.

"So," Thranduil said finally, "we are not going after Legolas and the others, I take it?"

"They are probably back with the she-elves already," Alagon muttered grumpily.

. . . . . .

"Why are we doing this again?" Galion wondered, wincing repeatedly as he gingerly touched his spare shirt against the bark of an aspen tree.

Legolas grabbed the shirt from him and began aggressively rubbing it against the tree. "It's the plan."

Galion made a whimpering sound.

"It's okay, Ada, it washes out," Tathor said from a few trees over, where he'd crawled halfway up a tree trunk to reach more of the powdery white stuff found on aspen bark. The elfling seemed confident, as if he knew what they were doing... or maybe he just really trusted Legolas.

Galion turned to Taensirion to ask for help, but he and Felrion were obediently covering their own garments with the chalky white stuff, so the butler dejectedly returned to deliberately staining his clothing... oh, the horror!

. . . . . .

"And then there was the time Sky and Storm and the prince and I pranked Felrion by rearranging his entire house," Kilvara mumbled sleepily. "He was so confused; you should've seen him turning in circles trying to figure out whose home he'd walked into. Best prank ever."

"One morning I covered the windows and tried to convince Taensirion we were still in Doriath," Lanthirel offered, leaning on the back of the couch Kilvara was on. "He said he did not believe me because he could hear birds that only live in Greenwood."

"When Firith was learning to walk, I taught him to push a little tray with a fancy breakfast into the bedroom so Galion thought for a second that he'd learned to cook," said Caliel, while munching one of the biscuits left from their picnic.

"Occasionally I change outfits throughout the day to see if Heledir notices," Faena sighed. "He usually does not."

Milaera giggled. "I have put hot pepper in Ruscan's wine before."

"My husband and I had a little bird statue we hid in all sorts of places," Aleinia remembered with a sad smile.

Silana yawned. "I once helped Sky dye Storm's hair all black when he was asleep; even he admitted it looked good."

Everyone looked at Kimbrel expectantly.

"You think I'd prank Alagon?" Kimbrel was appalled.

"I suppose he does not seem like the type to appreciate pranks," Lanthirel admitted.

Silana poked Kimbrel. "I dare you to try one on him."

"I'll help you if you want," Caliel offered.

"Mm..." Kimbrel wasn't sure about this.

"C'mon," said Silana.

"No."

Caliel grinned widely. "Are you sure?"

"I am, but... thanks? I guess?" Kimbrel wrinkled her nose at her new friend.

Kilvara smirked at her sister, then asked, "Does that answer your question, Sheyni?"

Faena's daughter nodded as she finished writing on the clipboard Tairen had lent her to collect data for him. "That's perfect, thanks."

. . . . . .

"Wow."

"You want to make some? I'll show you how."

"No thanks, 'Las." Tathor knelt down to examine the strange arrows the prince was making—really just straight, thin sticks with holly leaves as fletching and lumps of clay for heads. "I have to help Felrion and Taen dig the pit, but won't these break when they hit anything?"

Legolas winked. "That's the point; the question is whether they will shoot straight enough."

"Huh. Cool."

. . . . . .

"This is depressing," Feren said. He was sitting on a branch with his two brothers-in-law and his nephew, watching as the king sat against a tree with his eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched; Firith fidgeted and occasionally took a few rebellious steps away from the log circle before glancing around guiltily and returning; and Alagon paced and muttered.

The other three nodded. "I see two elves who've snapped, and one who's about to," observed Ruscan.

Heledir raised an eyebrow. "Which one is about to?"

"Firith."

"Firith's always been a bit crazy," Feren objected.

"He has a strong inclination to seek harmony and order but a highly logic-based thought structure, combined with a perfectionistic inclination and unusual attention to detail," said Tairen, looking at his notes.

Heledir and Ruscan exchanged looks. "Four. Four not-quite-sane elves," corrected the former.

Ruscan shrugged. "Milaera and I tried, all right?"

Feren's brow furrowed. "By the way, are we allowed to talk about the she-elves now? Who's in charge?"

"To be honest, I haven't a clue," Heledir answered honestly.

"Every elf for himself?" Ruscan offered.

"I mean, if you want to make Alagon mad at us..." The Sinda scratched his chin. "We could always go home; I have no preference anymore. I miss Faena, but it sounds as though the she-elves are having fun, and I am not sure I want to explain what happened to my wrist." Said wrist was now in a brace, and had gotten him out of gathering firewood the previous night.

Feren flicked his shoulder reproachfully. "C'mon, it's only one more day."

"True, true... Tairen, stop that." Heledir narrowed his eyes at his nephew.

"Stop what?" Tairen asked innocently, his eyes on his three relatives while his hand (and a thin stick of graphite) darted back and forth across his clipboard, recording observations. Uncle Heledir continues to be less competitive than Ada and Uncle Feren...

. . . . . .

"Lord Taensirion, report?"

"The you-know-whats are ready, my prince."

"Thank you." Legolas turned to Felrion, trying to imitate his father; he'd had too much fun directing their efforts today. "And you, healer?"

"The thing's ready, and we're ready for the other thing." Felrion's mouth twitched, but he forced it back into a straight line.

"Galion?"

"The, uh... I'm ready to... yeah." Galion cleared his throat. "I got everything."

"Well done. And you, Tathor?"

His friend bowed with great seriousness. "I have done the task and am prepared for the event, O lord prince."

Felrion and Taensirion both coughed to hide their laughter at the elfling's solemnity.

"Well done, my army." Legolas folded his hands behind his back. "For Greenwood!"

"For Greenwood!" Taensirion, Felrion, and Galion echoed dutifully.

Tathor raised his hand. "Isn't the enemy also fighting for Greenwood?"

"Good point." Legolas frowned. "For revenge!"

"For revenge!" said Taensirion, Felrion, and Galion.

Tathor considered this. "But nothing happened to you and Taen."

"We're getting revenge for our friends," the prince explained.

"Oh, okay. For revenge!"

"For revenge!" repeated Taensirion, trying not to giggle.

Legolas gave the advisor his best imitation of a stern glare. "Lord Taensirion, I wonder if you are properly aware of the magnitude of our task?"

"Apologies, my lord," the Sinda apologized with a low bow and an absolute absence of amusement at how well Legolas could copy his father's speech patterns. "I shall try to keep a proper attitude from now on."

Legolas raised an eyebrow in a very Thranduil-like manner. "Are we prepared?"

Galion and Tathor raised their hands.

"Yes?"

"Do we really have to do this? It seems... well... kind of mean," said the butler. Tathor nodded in complete agreement.

Felrion snorted. "They tied us to a stump; seems fair."

"We are not doing anything too cruel," Taensirion reminded the two. "Only messing with them a bit."

Legolas thought it might turn into more than that, but kept his concerns to himself. "Are you in or out?" he asked Galion and Tathor.

"In," Tathor promised immediately, and after a moment of reluctance, Galion echoed him.

The prince looked around at the darkening forest, his eyes turned almost green by the gold glow of dusk. "Then let's go."

. . . . . .

Ruscan sat bolt-upright in his hammock. "What was that?"

Heledir yawned and looked over at his friend. "Probably a ghost," he joked.

The Silvan elf gulped. "See, that's what it looked like..."

"Hmm? Go to sleep, you are seeing things."

Ruscan shook himself, knowing Heledir was right, and was just lying down again when Heledir yelped.

"What was that? Did you see—?" His head whipped back and forth, looking in no particular direction. "Something hit me!"

Ruscan's sarcastic response was interrupted by a blow to his side, knocking him partly out of his hammock; as he scrambled back in, he caught a glimpse of something white in the branches nearby. He was too distracted to notice the shattered arrow tumbling to the ground. "See, there it is again!"

Tairen poked his head over the side of his hammock above them. "What is going on?"

"Ghosts!" they both hissed.

"I never thought you two were the type to imagine things."

Ruscan was too alarmed to think of a comeback. "I swear, something hit me—"

Heledir shushed him. "Look over there!"

Two pale forms watched them from the darkness, one a little taller than the other and holding a bow.

"Oh, those ghosts," said Tairen, whose voice was suddenly a bit higher-pitched.

Heledir frowned and pulled himself up onto his branch for a better view. "Hold on, are those—THEY ARE NOT STANDING ON ANYTHING, HOW ON ARDA—" He yelled and scrambled away, followed by Tairen and Ruscan. The three jumped to Feren's tree. "FEREN, WAKE UP!"

"Mm, wha?"

"What's going on?!" Firith called from nearby.

"GHOSTS!" Ruscan, Heledir, and Tairen shouted together.

"Ghosts aren't r—"

Firith screamed.

So did some of the others, and then they all fell silent. "Firith?" Feren called uncertainly, squinting into the gloom. The two pale shapes had by now vanished.

The blond elf hurtled onto their branch, causing more yelps. "Something grabbed me!"

"Where is it n—Is that blood?!" Tairen jumped back, staring at Firith's clothes, which were stained with something dark.

"It's—it's not mine," Firith stammered.

"What is going ON over here?!" Alagon appeared on the next tree over, angrily pulling on his cloak.

"There's something—"

"Ghosts—"

"They grabbed—"

"Floating—"

"Blood everywhere—"

"QUIET!"

They shut up, some hyperventilating more than others.

"Ghosts are not real. You are not children. Go. To. BED!" Alagon was not happy about being woken up.

They all traded glances. "But there were—" Tairen dared to say.

Alagon made a growling noise. "GO!"

The others huddled closer together.

Alagon pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked closer and wrinkled his nose. "Firith, what is on your—" A primal shriek came from somewhere in the darkness, and Alagon jumped despite himself. So did all the others. "SHOW YOURSELF!" he bellowed at the forest, then had an idea and reached out mentally to the trees. Who is there?

Blood, thought the trees. Blood hate KILL!

Alagon froze and his eyes went wide.

"What do we do?!" Firith squeaked, and all the elves looked to Alagon for guidance.

The fierce advisor-general swallowed hard and called, "King Thranduil?"

No answer.

The elves stood in silence for a few seconds, too scared to move.

Creeeaaaaaaakkkkk...

"What is that?" Heledir yelped.

Alagon stepped closer, though his eyes were glued to the darkness as well. "Everyone stay ca—"

"It's the TREES!"

"THEY WANT TO KILL US, LISTEN!"

"RUN! GET TO THE GROUND!"

Alagon was torn between keeping up the appearance of being in control and staying within the safety of the group. After a very brief hesitation and another creeeaakkk, he chose the latter and bolted down after the others.

. . . . . .

"Thranduil?"

The king's hands loosened their grip over his ears, and his eyes, which had been squeezed shut, now blinked at his surroundings in confusion. "...was it not a dream? The screaming?"

Galion moved closer in concern. "Were you having a nightmare?"

Thranduil stared at his butler in almost childlike bewilderment for another moment before his features hardened. "Leave me."

Galion wanted to argue, but he knew better. "Yes, sir." He'd wanted to check on the king, but hadn't realized the effect the surrounding shrieks of terror would have. "Legolas and the rest of us are playing a prank on the others," he felt he should explain.

Thranduil ignored him.

"I'm sorry," Galion whispered before running to rejoin the others.

. . . . . .

"Did you see Alagon's face?" Legolas snorted as he coiled the thin ropes they'd used to hang from a branch.

"I don't know if I like this prank," Tathor mumbled.

"C'mon, they will think it is funny in the morning."

"Think so?"

"I promise. And tell Felrion the fake blood is perfect."

. . . . . .

"Now what?!"

"I don't know... the trees are everywhere!"

"Maybe if we get out of the area, they won't be so angry?"

"Everyone look at me!" Alagon had regained his composure, and now he regarded them with disappointment. "This is clearly all a—"

Feren gave a strangled gasp. "Alagon," he whispered, "look up..."

He did, a chill going down his spine though he would never admit it, and mere feet away he saw an elven form, its whitish outline eerily lit by a weak shaft of moonlight and splashed with red liquid. Its face was so marked by blood that Alagon couldn't even tell if it was male or female. The thing watched him, perfectly still.

The others began to back away slowly. "Alagon?" Feren hissed.

The red-haired elf didn't react, too horrified to move.

"Alagon!" Heledir snapped.

Alagon had gone deathly pale, and several of the elves wondered if he'd simply died where he stood and forgotten to fall. Finally Firith—Firith!—dashed forward and yanked the paralyzed elf away. As he did so, the ghost let out an unearthly shriek and lunged at them.

The elves screamed and scattered.

Ruscan and Heledir dashed one way—the former dragging his son behind him—and almost immediately tripped over something. When they recovered, Heledir was gone.

Ruscan grabbed Tairen and pushed the younger elf behind him, though he was smaller than the half-Sinda. "Heledir?" he choked out.

Silence, aside from a scream a short distance away that sounded like it belonged to Feren.

"Uncle Heledir?" Tairen tried.

Something dark and wet landed on Ruscan's arm, and the Silvan elf almost threw up as he looked up and saw a tawny-haired form hanging there upside-down, squirming slightly. "Heledir? Are you... still alive?"

"Mm mmimimriom," the trapped elf mumbled around the gag that was apparently in his mouth, oddly sounding more annoyed than terrified.

Ruscan, oblivious to this, sorted out which tree his friend was hung from and started toward it. "Stay close, Tai—" He cried out as the ground gave out under him. Tairen quickly tumbled into the pit after him, and strangely familiar laughter sounded.

"I should feel guilty, but somehow I think you deserved that."

"Grandfather!" Tairen yelled indignantly, struggling to remove himself from Ruscan.

. . . . . .

Feren and Firith raced in a different direction, only to almost collide with a ghostly form floating a few feet off the ground. Feren screamed and whirled around, Firith sprinting to keep up, but then there was another ghost, and another, herding them toward some unknown place. All the while, the trees creaked and groaned, their thoughts radiating rage toward the frightened Silvan elves.

Suddenly Firith grabbed Feren's arm. "Wait!"

Feren skidded to a stop, his eyes darting around to see what terrible thing they'd run into this time.

"Feren, ghosts aren't real!"

He started to point out that this wasn't really the time for that sort of thinking, but then the full force of the young elf's assertation hit him. "...they're not, are they?"

"So why are we running?"

"And what are we running from? ...Legolas!"

Firith grinned weakly.

"Shh!" Feren ducked down, seeing a flash of pale gray nearby. "Look, they can't see us as well as we can see them, so let's hide..." He crouched in a stand of ferns. "...and when they come..." He made a pouncing sign with his hands.

"But what if..."

"Ghosts aren't real, Firith," Feren reminded him confidently.

"But the trees!"

"Legolas," he said in explanation. The prince was already gaining a reputation. "Now, shh..."

A "ghost" appeared, then another, and they paused and looked around, wondering where their quarry could have gone.

"GO!" Feren launched himself at one of the "ghosts", knocking it to the ground, and Firith did the same with the other. "It's Legolas!" Feren yelled gleefully.

"Ada?" Firith jumped back in surprise.

Feren was not so forgiving, and Legolas yelped, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" as he was pummeled.

"Feren, don't do that!" Firith ran over and tried to pull the other elf off his friend.

"Hey!" As Feren was distracted, Legolas squirmed out of his grasp and ran away. "Come back here, you little goblin!"

. . . . . .

Felrion was amazed by how easy it was to terrify Alagon out of his wits.

The healer had his brother-in-law cornered against a tree, and since Alagon was shielding his face with one hand and cowering against the bark, Felrion took the opportunity to stalk closer. As far as he was concerned, Alagon had this coming for being such a bully these last few days, and (in Felrion's opinion), for his whole life.

Alagon gritted his teeth against the pitiful whimper that came from his mouth as he waited for the blow to fall; he hoped fleetingly that his death wouldn't upset Kimbrel too terribly. Then again, it occurred to him that she might be the only one who would mourn his passing. That thought upset him more than he would have expected.

Many beats of his pounding heart slipped by. The strike did not come.

"Not so tough without your army, are you?"

Was that...?

Alagon straightened up and stood in one motion, staring down the ghost, who suddenly seemed much smaller. "Felrion..." His eyes blazed with a predatory glint. One did not humiliate Alagon without severe consequences.

The healer gulped, suddenly remembering that he, who couldn't even outfight his very young apprentice, had just antagonized the elf who'd once cracked one of Thranduil's ribs.

Felrion ran for his life, Alagon right behind him.

. . . . . .

"I think you broke my wrist worse," Heledir muttered at his father-in-law as the four of them walked back in the general direction of the log circle, three of them glaring at the other. "How did you do that, anyway? One would think you had practice tackling people and shoving gags in their mouths."

"Sheer determination," said Taensirion. "And I am sorry, I forgot you had a broken wrist and I did not want to frighten Ruscan too much by taking Tairen."

Heledir deliberately looked away.

"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! HELP!"

"Is that Felrion?" Taensirion broke into a run, followed by the others (who tripped a few times in the darkness), and they quickly discovered the source of the shouting. "Oh my—Alagon, I think that is quite enough—" The Sinda tried to pry his furious coworker off the healer, who was curled in a ball to protect himself, but it took Heledir and Ruscan helping him to rescue Felrion. "What happened?"

"He," said Felrion, brushing himself indignantly (and feeling much braver now that he'd been rescued), "has quite a fear of ghosts, don't you, Alagon?"

"That is hardly what it looked like," Taensirion said, stepping between the two of them, and still hanging on to Alagon, who had Felrion fixed with a death glare. "Though," he added to Alagon as an afterthought, "you did appear rather terrified when you first saw him." He made the fatal mistake of letting go of Alagon as he chuckled and said, "This is going to make a good story to tell our wives."

There was a crack and suddenly Taensirion and Alagon were rolling in the grass, the latter's wrath and element of surprise more than a match for the Sinda's greater strength and experience.

. . . . . .

"Ow! Feren! Get off!"

"Apologize first, and promise not to breathe a word of this to Silana," the older elf ordered, grinning as he pinned the struggling prince to the ground.

"Never!" Legolas declared, writhing ineffectively... until a small blond-haired ball of fury slammed into his captor.

"GET—OFF—MY—FRIEND!" Tathor yelled, punching and kicking Feren until Legolas struggled free and joined him in beating up his former attacker.

. . . . . .

"Such violence," Firith remarked to his father as they watched the fighting below. "And they've got Tathor in on it..."

Galion nodded in total agreement.

"Why Tairen, look who it is."

The two looked up to see Ruscan and his son perched on a branch above them.

"Funny prank," said Ruscan. "Now it's our turn. You have until the count of ten to run."

"This isn't nice," Galion protested, while Firith bolted.

Tairen shrugged. "It is not nice to scare elves out of their wits, either. We were going to beat up Grandfather as soon as he turned his back, but Alagon got him first. Now—six, five, four..."

Galion yelped, "Legolas made me do it!" but wisely ran after Firith as he spoke. Unfortunately, he didn't have much of a head start.

. . . . . .

"Alagon broke my nose," Taensirion complained when he finally found his way back to the camp the next morning.

"So I gathered," said Thranduil with a raised eyebrow. "Breakfast?"

"Did you cook that?" Taensirion asked, feeling his nose to check that he'd finally gotten it set straight.

The king nodded toward Galion, who was nursing his injuries and sending nasty looks at Ruscan, who was, if anything, in even worse shape. "The cook was otherwise occupied."

"Who started this stupid game?" muttered Felrion, holding a poultice to his impressive black eye, which, now that the fake blood was washed off his face, was only one of many visible bruises.

"I wonder," said Thranduil.

"Shut up."

Nearby, Heledir and Firith—the former's wrist having had a week or two added to the time it would take to heal, and the latter having only a bloody nose and a few other injuries since Tairen had taken it easy on him—were being treated by Tathor (who was the least injured of all with only a cut above his eye). Next to them, Legolas was joking with Feren and Tairen; all three had a few cuts, scrapes, and bruises (and in one case, several bite marks courtesy of Tathor), but they were the most cheerful of the group.

Thranduil watched with great interest as the last of the group limped into camp—Alagon had several impressive bruises and winced often, rubbing his side; indeed, he seemed to be in worse shape than most of the elves, including the one sitting next to the king. "Why, Taensirion," remarked Thranduil with considerable surprise, "did you win?"

"Hmm?" Taensirion looked up and saw Alagon, who gave him a look and stalked to the other side of the log circle. "Oh, that. Yes, you could say I did."

Thranduil remembered a certain incident earlier that week and wondered if Taensirion should watch his back for a while, having embarrassed Alagon twice within the span of a few days. "Odd, I seem to remember him having a reputation for winning fistfights as a young soldier."

Taensirion shrugged nonchalantly and said, "I believe I had my own reputation once."

"...I beg your pardon?"

But the advisor only smiled and sipped his tea.

. . . . . .

"Here they are, Nana—Oh, my!" Silana burst out laughing.

Lanthirel put the last touches on Caliel's makeup—the she-elves had to look pretty for their husbands, after all—and joined her daughter at the window. She, too, was greatly amused by the male elves' appearance as they filed out of the forest, eyeing each other warily. "Well, girls, it seems there was a slight disagreement among our husbands; shall we show them how we fared?"

The she-elves drifted over to the door and, at Lanthirel's signal, filed out and down the steps. They'd been up since early that morning selecting dresses and doing each other's hair and makeup, and now, to an elf, were positively radiant. The men, not so much.

"Hello," said Lanthirel pleasantly as the two groups met in the open space in front of her house. "Did you have a good week?"

Taensirion, whose nose was still swollen, declined to answer.

Lanthirel and Kilvara traded looks, and the she-elves all took a moment to look smug.

"Let's never do that again," muttered Felrion, just loudly enough for the she-elves to hear him.

Kilvara grinned. "So, you admit you need me?"

"We all would've been fine if not for him—" Felrion pointed at Alagon, who bristled.

"I would like to see you lead—"

"Enough," said Thranduil, stepping between them. "And Alagon, remind me to never again put you in a leadership position without some sort of supervision."

Alagon had the decency to hang his head, while Taensirion smirked ever-so-slightly.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at his second advisor. "Need I remind you who was voted out of office due to his ineffective policies?"

Taensirion blushed.

"I did not see you doing anything to help," Alagon muttered at the king.

Taensirion raised an eyebrow. "Nor did I, come to think of it."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at both of them, then spun on his heel and walked away. "Come along, Legolas."

The prince bade farewell to his friends and trotted off.

Taensirion turned back to his wife and grinned sheepishly. "It could have gone better."

Lanthirel laughed and swept forward to embrace him. "I missed you. Is your nose broken?"

"It... might be..."

The other couples quickly followed their example. Kilvara clucked disapprovingly as she ran her fingers over Felrion's swollen eye. "Who did this?"

"Alagon," he muttered irritably.

"I'll get him back for you," she promised, and she kissed him.

Faena ran to throw her arms at Heledir, then sighed and shook her head at the brace on his wrist. "Heledir, love..."

"Sorry," he said meekly.

Milaera chuckled at Ruscan's injuries; after a quick welcome-home kiss, she cheekily inquired who had done this to him, and snorted in a very unladylike manner when he grudgingly indicated Galion.

Caliel gave Galion a good, long smooch on the cheek. "Hi! What happened to your face?"

He blushed. "Mm... we played a prank..."

"You played a prank? Wow, character growth. Where are my kiddos?" She bear-hugged both Firith and Tathor and demanded to hear what they'd done since she'd last seen her younger son.

Kimbrel shyly trotted up to Alagon and squeezed herself against his side; while he gave her a quick peck on the lips and pretended to go back to watching the others, his hand came up to stroke her hair and he pressed a shy kiss to her hair when no one was looking. Internally, he was trying to figure out if this hug meant she'd missed him more than usual.

Silana tackled Feren, yelling, "Welcome back!" and then let him up so Aleinia could hug him and fret over his injuries. Off to the side, Tairen and Sheyni hugged and then quietly exchanged notes.

"Hey, Kimbrel," Caliel piped up suddenly, breaking away from her sons and running up to her new friend. "Want to go canoeing again next week? Just the two of us?"

Kimbrel's eyes widened—somehow she hadn't expected Caliel to still want to spend time with her now that Galion was back—but she managed to nod. "I-I would like that."

Alagon blinked a few times—he'd always figured his wife must spend her time with someone while he was at work, but he hadn't realized she even knew the butler's wife. Maybe he should have been easier on Galion and his sons...

"Huh?" said Galion eloquently. Since when had they...?

Caliel winked at him.

Hey, I needed at least ONE dysfunctional couple. Luckily, Alagon and Kimbrel are surrounded by good role models.