Chapter 12 /Dances, cheering/ Sorry for taking long to update!

Chapter 12
The fight went on. Legolas and Thelion each sustained injurys - for although Legolas was smaller he was faster - and they were both bleeding far too much.

Galian, with all the spells he's been doing, looked like he hadn't slept in a month, stumbling around blindly, face pale, with bags under his eyes.

Berthilon just joined the fight; after he made sure Laeriel was safe.

Legolas took out his weapons, now pointing them at Thelion.

"What did you do to her," he snarled, while Thelion was drawing his own weapons, a steel sword with a silver handle, which was showered with emeralds and little black stones.

"Did you ever fight a real fight, Legolas? Not one where you try to block. One where you have to inflict pain, or you die?" Thelion snarled, holding his sword ready.

They stood in tense silence for about five minutes, until Legolas lunged at Thelion. Thelion dodged him, and then smirked.

"Is that all you can do, little brother?" he taunted, enjoying the enraged look Legolas was giving him. He laughed maniacally; there was no way smaller and weaker Legolas could defeat him; the mighty Thelion.

Suddenly Legolas lunged, tackling the surprised Thelion and knocking him down. Thelion, after a moment of surprise, jumped up and hit Legolas in the nose, breaking it. Legolas stepped back, his face etched with pain. Thelion waited while Legolas took control of his pain, which was about one minute. When Legolas stepped up again, Thelion held his hands up. Legolas stopped, confused. Seeing his brother's confusion, Thelion spoke.

"Let's have a one on one fight. Only weapons, no unarmed combat and no reinforcements. No help. We'll see who's the best fighter here without friends to back him up!"

Legolas considered for a moment. Could he win the fight with Thelion? Thelion was a better fighter, better trained. He was also bigger, an adult, whereas Legolas was smaller, teenager. It was obvious Thelion would win, not Legolas. But better die trying than never try at all. Right? Right!

"I accept," he said at last. Maybe he'd win. Maybe he wouldn't. He just wanted revenge for beating him and kidnapping Laeriel.

Thelion grinned, a cruel grin. He had come to the same conclusions as Legolas. He'd win, no question. He took out his sword. He saluted Legolas, who grudgingly did the same. It was a rule. Legolas looked ferociously at his friends and sister, who, understanding completely, began edging out of the room. Thelion saw them, and turned to look sharply at them.

"What are you doing?" He said, slowly, maliciously. "You can't go. You lot are the prize that I was about to tell Legolas about. You have to stay here when we fight."

Legolas sighed. Why him, why always him? A lot of stuff happened to him and his friends. But not to anyone else.

"Hurry up," he said, for lack of other words.

"Let's start," said Thelion, and lunged at Legolas with his sword. Legolas quickly side stepped and Thelion was sent to the ground by his momentum. Legolas moved forwards to swing a blow at Thelion's head. But just before he brought the blade down, Thelion grabbed his ankle, sending him sprawling on the floor. Legolas herd a crack, and felt a searing pain in his chest. He supposed he had cracked his ribs or at least bruised them badly. He groaned .

In the split second Legolas was thinking that, Thelion jumped up. He grabbed his sword and positioned it above Legolas's throat.

"I win," he said evilly, staring directly into Legolas's eyes.

Thranduil groaned. He turned on his side in his bed, but that still didn't calm the pounding hangover that he always got after drinking too much. He tried to remember why he had a hangover. He had drunken too much, that was much was obvious. But why?

Instantly the answer came to him. His eyes widened and he sat up way too fast, sending another thud to his headache.

"Laeriel! Legolas! Thelion!" he gasped, hating Elrond for a moment for making him drink too much. He looked around in pure fury, searching for Elrond. He was there, snoring on the couch.

Thranduil felt his fury disappear. His friend only wanted to take his mind of off his children. Not that he appreciated it.

He sighed, and lay down on the bed. Wait a second. Bed! Bed meant that a servant has come and put him there. Which meant that he or she has seen him in this state. And Thranduil knew how fast rumors flew around the castle. By
this time tomorrow almost everyone would have heard that he and Elrond drank a thousand cups of ale each! That was not good.

Thranduil groaned again. He then heard Elrond shifting on the couch, then groaning. Elrond had woken up.

"Elrond!"

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TOBIASHAWK13