Hello! It's been a bit since I uploaded a chapter because I've been updating and adding some chapters at the beginning and middle. The new/updated chapters are as follows, with their chapter numbers as of today:

3. Orcs (Moderate rewrite of all scenes-new relationship dynamics but no new plot points. Also more Felrion and Taen.)

4. Trouble (Minor rewrite, now more true to the characters)

5. Feathers (Short new chapter from my things-I-write-when-bored archives-Sky and Thranduil only)

6. Background Check (New chapter, written to add character development for Storm and Oropher-includes Storm, Oropher, and a bit of Taen)

9. Gil-Galad (Major rewrite, with most of the length being a flashback to how Sky and Storm met Gil)

30. Sleep Demons (New chapter, also from my things-I-write-when-bored archives, added A) because it's cute, B) to flesh out that part of the timeline a little, and C) to subtly foreshadow current chapters-Sky and Thranduil only)

31. I Didn't Mean It! (Very short new chapter from my t-I-w-w-b archives, added because it's cute-includes Thran, Sky and Oropher, with mentions of Galion and Kilvara)

I would definitely suggest you at least read the new ones, but it's your choice, I guess. Anyway, read this one.

It was your Nana's idea.

"Come on, Tathor."

We'd been wondering if it was possible to tame them, so, being Sky, she turned it into a contest.

"Where're we going, 'Las?"

That was the day your Ada got his first elk.

. . . . . .

Kilvara speedwalked along the bridges and tunnels of the underground palace, searching. "Feren, have you seen the prince or Tathor?"

"No, sorry."

"Heledir, do you know where Tathor and Legolas are?"

"I cannot say I do."

"Silana, did Legolas and Tathor tell you where they were going?"

"I don't think so."

"Alagon, do you know where Tathor or the prince went?"

"Why would I know that?"

"Firith, where's your brother? Or Legolas?"

"I haven't seen them this afternoon, sorry."

"Taensirion, do you know...?"

"I apologize, I have been in a meeting all day."

Kilvara scratched her head in bewilderment and turned back toward her starting point.

"Find anything?" Felrion asked when she returned to the healing ward.

"I think they ran off," she admitted, throwing up her hands in frustration. "This is the third practice Legolas has skipped, and he's being a terrible example to the others. I might have to put him in an older patrol group to teach him a lesson, or else suspend him from patrols altogether." She sat down in one of the chairs and put her chin in her hands. "I'm sorry I couldn't find Tathor, either."

"It's all right, I didn't really need him anyway."

"He probably didn't even know Legolas was breaking the rules." She halfheartedly kicked the stone wall. "But where did they go?"

Felrion continued to cut bandages for a while, thinking. "He had a glint in his eye yesterday, when he came over. Did he say anything then?"

"I don't think so... mostly we just talked about..." Kilvara gasped and sat up straight. "Felrion! We told him about that day we and Sky and Storm and Thranduil and Galion went and caught those elk!"

Felrion stopped what he was doing. "Oh. Oh."

"He's going to—we have to go find them!"

"Yep," said Felrion in complete agreement, grabbing the bag of medical supplies he always carried around and shoving extra bandages in. "Let's go."

. . . . . .

"Here they are." Legolas peeked down through the branches at the small herd of elk, a bull and a few cows and calves. It was autumn, which meant the bull's antlers were fully grown and free of velvet. "This one is even bigger than my Ada's!"

Tathor scratched his head. "Are you sure this is a good idea, 'Las?"

"You heard Kilvara's story. None of them got hurt."

"That's true." Tathor nodded thoughtfully. "You're going for the bull?"

"Yeah. You?"

Tathor considered the other antlered elk in the herd, a younger, perhaps yearling bull, for half a second, then pointed to a gentle-looking dappled cow. "That one."

Legolas scoffed, but then punched Tathor in the shoulder. "All right. Ready?"

"Ready," confirmed Tathor.

"Go!" Legolas leapt off toward the other side of the elk herd, and Tathor backed up a couple branches and slowly climbed down a tree, trying not to frighten the elk.

Legolas watched his friend for a few moments, as Tathor approached the elk herd slowly, talking soothingly and holding out his hand. Some of the elk, including the bull, stamped their hooves threateningly, but they could tell this elf was friendly and not hunting, and they let him come.

Legolas took a more direct approach, like Kilvara said she and Legolas's mother had gone for. He dropped directly onto the bull's back.

The huge beast roared—or that was what it sounded like to Legolas—and lurched into the air, bucking and twisting. The prince whooped with excitement, feeling the powerful muscles working under him as he gripped the elk's fur for dear life. He dared the elk to try to get rid of him.

The elk did try, and in fact it tried very effectively. Legolas yelped as an antler, weighing more than he did, swept across and clipped his shoulder as the elk swept its head around. Then the bull spun in a complete circle, once, twice, three times, and reared up, almost tossing the dizzy elf off. It ran a few steps and bucked again, scraping Legolas against a low-hanging branch, and then swung its head again. Every lurch it gave had twice the power of the horses Legolas was used to riding.

But Legolas was determined, and he only laughed at the bull's attempts to be rid of him. This might be easier than he'd thought!

CRACK.

Legolas's shoulder went numb, and the strength of the blow sent him tumbling back and to the side. He snatched at the elk's hide with the other hand, twisting his fingers into its fur, and barely held on enough to pull himself back up. Then the pain hit and he slipped again, and in his struggles he didn't notice the antler swinging toward his face—

. . . . . .

"Legolas? Legolas!"

The prince didn't stir. Tathor looked around frantically and spotted a thick stand of trees the elk might not be able to get into. He began tugging his friend that way, but had to dive to the side when the big bull shook its antlers at him again.

"I'm sorry," the young healer gasped to the elk. "We were just playing. Please don't hurt us anymore."

Angrily, the bull kicked out at him with a thick foreleg. Tathor remembered too late that it was the elk breeding season, and they were extra-aggressive right now. The other elk gathered around, snorting and squealing as the bull backed up to charge.

Help! Tathor thought desperately at the trees, but they were in a panicked uproar at the prince's injury and didn't respond. Get help! Hurry!

Tathor dragged Legolas as quickly as he could, but he wasn't a strong elf and the roots and underbrush got in his way. The bull made a rumbling sound and ran at them, antlers first, eyes flaring. Thinking fast, Tathor grabbed a thin branch on the ground and whipped it into the elk's face right as it was about to run over them, making it swerve to the side, bowling Tathor over with its antlers as it staggered. He scrambled back up without stopping to wonder if he was hurt, and pulled Legolas the rest of the way to safety, desperately shoving branches out of the way to fit them both between the small trees. There.

The bull threw itself against the trees, ripping at their branches with its antlers, and Tathor cried out and ducked deeper into the stand. He was terrified for a moment that the beast would rip right through to them, but after the first attempt, it backed away. Tathor heard elk footsteps retreating into the forest.

He panted for a few seconds, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, and then bent over Legolas's prone form. The prince was bleeding from his head, which already had a large purple lump as well, and his upper arm bent in a place it shouldn't.

What've we done?! Tathor thought, his stomach twisting. No one knows we're out here!

Then he got a grip on himself. "I'm a healer," he said out loud, taking a deep breath. "I can do this. I can help him."

The concussion was the worst part, the part that might actually be dangerous—especially after Tathor confirmed he could feel a pulse in the broken arm, meaning the blood flow wasn't cut off. But there wasn't much healers could do for head injuries, besides figure out how bad they were, and right now all Tathor knew was that Legolas had been unconscious for... how long? Probably not as long as it seemed like; maybe a minute or two.

Tathor whipped out the small healing kit Felrion insisted he carry around at all times and wrapped a length of white cloth around Legolas's head to stem the bleeding. The little vial of quick-acting painkillers he decided to keep for the moment; there weren't enough to last long, so he should wait until Legolas woke up. He prodded at the broken arm—Legolas didn't even whimper, which Tathor took to mean he couldn't feel anything. That made it easy to reset the bone, and then Tathor set about putting together a sling.

The whole time, he was trying to count the minutes until Legolas woke up.

. . . . . .

Felrion and Kilvara slid to a stop on the branch they were running along when the trees screamed.

"What—?" the healer gasped.

Elk chop axe kill—

Greenleaf—

Sapleakfall—

Kilvara grabbed Felrion's hand and hauled him along. "Hurry!"

. . . . . .

Legolas squinted against the light, trying to remember where he was. His head and shoulder hurt in equal measure.

"You're awake!"

Several elves were bending over him, but they were blurry and he couldn't tell who they were. "Wha hapn'd?" he slurred.

"You were trying to ride an elk and it bashed you with its antlers," said one of the elves—was that Tathor? Did that make the others Firith, since they all looked the same? "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Thas' cool," mused Legolas. If he was going to get hurt, that was the way to do it. But why were they in the forest, anyway?

"Legolas?" Tathor repeated, and all the elves merged into just him for a second, then separated again. "What's the last thing you remember?"

It took the prince a while to make sense out of the words. "Wha's the last thing I r'member?"

"Yeah."

He thought hard. "My head hurts," he realized again.

"Okay." Tathor sounded upset, but Legolas didn't have the energy to worry about it right now. "Can you walk, 'Las?"

"Mmmno," the prince decided, but he let Tathor pull him to his feet. There was something restraining his arm. "'s my arm broken?" he wondered.

"Yep. Don't worry, we'll take care of it when we find help."

"'kay."

. . . . . .

"How could they be so stupid?!" Kilvara hissed breathlessly as she and Felrion hurtled through the branches, changing direction often—it was taking them forever to calm the trees down enough to point them in the right direction.

"Well," said Felrion, who was paying more attention to the trees. It sounded like the young elves were up and moving again.

"Going off without telling us and messing with those creatures all on their own—"

"Kilvara," Felrion interrupted. "You did a lot worse. You just got away with it."

"I—" She paused long enough to wipe the tears out of her eyes. "I'm scared, okay?"

His stomach was doing flips too; he just had the training to ignore it. "I know. Let's keep going."

. . . . . .

"...but I got you into the trees just in time," Tathor finished. He'd been telling the story to keep Legolas calm and awake, even though he might have to tell it again later. The prince was in really bad shape, but every minute that passed brought Tathor hope, because head injuries in elves usually killed quickly or not at all.

"Wow," Legolas said, but even that word was barely intelligible. He leaned heavily on Tathor's shoulder.

"So now we're going to the nearest houses, which I think are this way," the apprentice healer added. The palace was much too far away to reach at this speed, but if they could reach a house, Legolas could rest while someone ran for a full healer and more medicine. "Hey, 'Las?"

"Wha?"

"How bad does your shoulder hurt? I have some painkillers but I don't want to give them to you yet because they might knock you out." But if his friend was in a lot of pain, maybe he could give just a drop or two.

Legolas mumbled something.

"I can't hear you."

The prince went limp.

Tathor cried out and knelt next to his friend, shaking him. "'Las! Wake up!" When that didn't work, he sat back. If Legolas didn't wake up soon, he'd need to bring help to them instead...

Thinking quickly, he took out the painkillers and some bandages, and used a twig with frayed ends to brush the dark liquid onto the cloth, forming letters. The prince is hurt. Please come find us as soon as you can—look north of the palace, southwest of the nearest mountain. Then he convinced a nearby bird to perch on his finger, and whispered instructions to it as he tied the bandage around its leg. He prayed it understood—dinnertime had passed, and it was going to get dark soon.

Legolas was still unconscious, and every time Tathor tried to rouse him, he came around for long enough to walk a short distance before his eyes rolled up in his head again and he fell. Tathor couldn't carry him, and he was starting to think about trying to find water when he sensed a change in the trees.

Help come for Deer-friend and Greenleaf, they thought excitedly, leaves rustling even though the air was still. Friends near.

Friends—! "OVER HERE!" Tathor yelled as loudly as he could. "WE'RE HERE! COME HELP!"

Legolas stirred—Tathor had given up on moving and made him a little nest of leaves with their cloaks as a pillow. "Wa's going on?"

"They found us!" And sure enough, he heard familiar yells just then. "FELRION! KILVARA! WE'RE HERE!"

. . . . . .

"I hope," Felrion remarked to Thranduil a long time later, when Legolas was safely asleep in the healing wing of the palace, "that he's learned something from this experience."

"Most likely not," said the king, who'd received Tathor's bird message and immediately mobilized all the available forces to search the forest. The uproar hadn't died down until about an hour ago, though they had found a goblin den deep in the wilderness. Thranduil had been furious, and taken out his anger on poor Kilvara and Tathor since Legolas wasn't fit for a scolding, until eventually Galion and Taensirion stepped in to calm him down; Felrion was upset by the king's abuse of his wife, but he understood why Thranduil was so afraid of losing the last elf he cared deeply about.

Now most of the elves had gone, and Felrion decided it was time to leave the king alone with his son; there were healers in the other room in case anything happened. He approached the other bed in the room and tapped the shoulder of the elf who'd fallen asleep on it, then motioned for his apprentice to follow him outside.

"'Las will be okay now, right?" Tathor mumbled sleepily. He'd absolutely refused to leave the room until everyone was sure the prince was stable.

"He'll be taking it easy for a while, but he'll recover," Felrion promised, and he stopped Tathor with a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. "You did well."

Tathor perked up hopefully. "Really?"

"From what you've told me, there's nothing you could have done better... except, hmm, maybe not letting him jump on an elk."

Tathor shrunk a little.

Felrion smiled gently; his apprentice had already been through enough. "But if you hadn't been there, he might've died, so maybe it's a good thing you went."

The blond elf grinned sheepishly. "But next time I should tell someone."

"Definitely." Felrion clapped his favorite youngster on the shoulder and steered him in the direction of his and Firith's quarters. "Now, let's get you to bed. After all, we want you to be coherent tomorrow."

Tathor yawned. "So we can tell Legolas about his injuries in detail until he promises never to do it again?"

"You know the drill."