Brenen sat by the blazing fire, studying with great care the complex set of interlocking blocks before him. The blocks had come in a perfect triangle. Pulling them apart had been no trouble but putting them back together was sure to be a challenge. He wished he had kept it together to study before he pulled it apart.

"I have often told you are to hasty," Thranduil said from the depths of the armchair.

Brenen frowned. "Oh, I will put it back together."

"Maybe seven hundred years from now!" Mykar snickered. He lay on his stomach on the carpet, reading the book under his nose. Now he glanced up at his brother's plight.

Brenen frowned. "If you think you can do better then me, come and try!"

Mykar diverted his eyes to the pages in front of him. "Nothing doing. It is your problem."

Brenen ground his teeth. "You read your book and let me concentrate!"

"Sir," said Mykar.

Thranduil glanced over the top of his book to make sure his sons were not about to fly at each other's throats before he returned to reading. He heard Brenen grumbling to himself as he stared at the wooden blocks before him and hoped Mykar would refrain from another touchy comment. Mykar remained in silence.

"I give up," Brenen said at last. "In fact, I bet you cannot put it back together, ada."

Thranduil said calmly, "I can, but I intend not to prove it to you. Put the blocks into a box to keep them from being lost."

Brenen reached for the blocks and, as he did so, the flames from the fire in the hearth rushed out of the grate and onto his hands. Brenen let out a scream. "Ada! Help!"

Mykar grabbed up his book and retreated back as Brenen's hair and clothes and face lit up. He shrieked in terror as the carpet caught flame as Brenen rolled around, trying to put the fire out. "Ada! Do something! Quick! He will die!" Tears started to roll down his face.

Thranduil's eyebrows shot into his hairline but he made no move to leave his chair. With great care he laid aside his book and regarded his son. "Brenen, does it hurt?"

"Of course it hurts!" Brenen howled. "It is fire, all over me! Burning me to death! Use your bending!"

Mykar shrieked as the fire leapt from Brenen to him, crawling up his face and arms. The book in his hands dropped to the floor.

"Does it hurt?" Thranduil asked again.

"Yes!" Brenen screeched. Then he paused, looking puzzled, "Well, no, actually."

Thranduil shook his head; the things fear would so were really amazing. With a sweep of his hand he cleared the fire from the floor and carpet, pushing it back into the hearth. His sons continued to burn but Mykar stopped screaming. He rose to his feet and approached his son.

"You have nothing to fear, either of you. The fire is your friend. Embrace it, feel the heat inside of you."

"Did you feel like this when you first got your bending?" Mykar asked, his lips trembling.

"I almost killed my nephew," Thranduil replied. "You are lucky; I did not have my father to help me."

Mykar leaned into Thranduil's embrace, looking frightened. The fire spread to Thranduil as Brenen joined him in the hug. Thranduil could feel his sons trembling and he hurried to assure them they would be fine.

"I will be here to help you learn to control yourselves, and you will all have each other," Thranduil comforted, planting kisses on his sons' brows.

"Do you think Legolas and Realn can bend to?" Brenen asked suddenly.

"I should think so," Thranduil said with a smile. "We will know when Cinwe brings them home."

Brenen looked at his hands with sudden interest. "When will we begin our training?"

"Soon," Thranduil assured him.

"Will you hurt us?" Brenen asked with a slight tremor in his voice, his head bent down. "You could if you wanted to, could you not?"

Thranduil sat speechless for a good sixty seconds. "What evil would posses me to hurt you? Have I ever hurt you in any way? Have I ever hit you or burned you? Have I?"

"No, ada," Brenen said meekly. He looked up. "I am sorry; my doubt was ill felt." He smiled, thinking of the many times ada had made dancing elves and dragons out of his fire to amuse his sons. There had been a time when he and his brothers had stayed back and watched the fire, knowing it would burn, but now they could join in.

Thranduil placed a hand over Brenen's slender one and patted it. the thin line of flames dancing over his son began to diminish as the door to the sitting room opened and two muddy elflings accompanied by an equally muddy wife entered the room.

Cinwe shut the door and leaned back against it, apparently spent from the muddy activities she had been engaged in. As she looked up, never too tired to find a smile for her husband, her words froze on her lips. Legolas and Realn were equally speechless, motionless in their headlong rush to hug their father and tell him about the fun they had.

"Herven nin," said Cinwe finally, "What transpires here?"

"We are not hurt, naneth," Brenen said. "We can fire bend, like ada, and he will begin to teach us how to control it . . . soon."

"I see," said Cinwe, looking at her flaming sons.

Realn and Legolas found their voices, immediately demanding with eagerness, "Can we fire bend to, ada? Can we? Can we?"

"Perhaps," said Thranduil. He beckoned the two elflings closer. "We will soon know."

"Be careful," Cinwe warned wearily.

"You can trust me with our children," Thranduil assured her.

As Realn approached his two brothers, the fire spread from Brenen and Mykar to him, crawling across his chest without burning him or his clothes. It hissed as it met the wet mud. Like his brothers, Realn let out a brief yell of initial alarm.

"It feels good," Realn said. "It sort of tickles." He giggled.

"Each one of you will feel it differently," Thranduil said.

Legolas moved closer to his brothers, steeling himself for the feel of the flames. He could feel the heat but the fire ignored him, licking at his brothers, dancing oblivious to his presence. Legolas held out his hand to touch the flame and jerked it back with a small cry of pain. He felt ada's hand slip around his waist a pull him close.

"I-it hurt," Legolas whimpered, holding his burned fingers. A tear trickled down his cheek. He avoided his brothers somewhat surprised faces.

Cinwe rushed to her son, kissing the injured fingers. "Oh dear, oh dear. It is only a little burn, tithen las; do not cry."

Legolas's wet eyes met his mother's imploring ones, so full of love. He burst into tears and buried his face in her neck. "I-I cannot fire bend."

Thranduil joined Legolas in the hug. He had been afraid of this. He had wished with all his heart all of his sons would be able to fire bend or none at all to avoid broken hearts. But now the nightmare had happened and Legolas found himself separated from his brothers by his inability to fire bend and farther away from the father he loved so much, separated by the breach.

"I cannot bend either," Cinwe said softly, holding her son close. "You and me will spend much time together. I am glad to have one son to me at least."

But this did not comfort Legolas. He wanted with all his heart to be a part of the life his brothers would enter into under his father's guidance but found himself rejected and the doors shut in his face. He sobbed and shook his head.

Thranduil met his wife's stricken eyes as he stroked Legolas's hair.

"It is all right," Brenen said coaxingly, hoping to cheer his brother. "You can watch us fire bend with ada."

"All right," Legolas said in a small voice.

Thranduil rose to his feet with a small sigh of despair. What else could he do? Fate had taken from his hands what he wanted to control.

"We will begin lessons tomorrow," Thranduil said quietly. He did not miss the lonely look in Legolas's eyes as his son glanced up at him, tears still on his cheeks. Thranduil knelt down to dry the damp, saying gently, "It will be all right, Legolas, you will see."

But in his heart he wondered if indeed things would be all right.