A/N: Sorry for not updating in a few days when before I had been loading this story on at least every afternoon. My mom just found out that she can't get the school board to pay for an alternative school that I really want to go to, but it's really expensive, so she has to work full-time now. That's been on my mind and I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, 'cause my parents were arguing and I felt like it was all my fault. I still can't help but feel responsible, and that sort of kept me from doing this for a while.

A/N2: There will be no responses in this chapter; I just caught whiff of that retarded new ban that prevents us from responding to reviews. It's really pissing me off, 'cause I want to tell you all how much your reviews mean to me, but I can't. I signed the petition and sent it out to a couple more people. If any of you want it, tell me in your review and I'll send it to you. We need to get 200 signatures! Help us out!

------------

Disclaimer: Don't hurt me! I don't own 'em...though I do in my own mind...lawyers: Grrr... Okay, okay, they're not mine, not even there...sheesh...

------------

ch.7

Legolas gazed down the shaft of the arrow, his concentration focused as he aimed his shot to the center of the target, where already five other arrows pierced. The day had been rough. Another debate had gone on today that the prince had had to attend. The topic was lost to him. He had yearned for the outdoors yet again. It was something he could not help despite how much he tried to stay focused on whatever was being discussed. He was relieved when he was finally dismissed, and that had happened almost fifteen minutes ago. He was content where he was, out on the shooting range, practicing with his longbow. A few young elflings were seated nearby on the lowest sturdy branch of an oak, watching intently. They had never seen a woodland elf at firing practice before and his aim stunned them.

The bow gave a muffled twang as the arrow was released, flying with deadly aim and unmarked speed to embed its head in the center of the target, along with the others. Legolas notched his bow again with nimble fingers, moving almost too fast for the eye to follow. Would he have been in combat, he would have moved much quicker, the bow being strung in barely a sixteenth of a second. Legolas stepped back five paces and raised his armed bow, gazing down the shaft of the arrow at the center of the target. He relaxed his muscles and exhaled deeply, the slight movements usually garnered by breathing stilled. His lifted the point of the arrow slightly above the center of the target, for arrows in flight always had a downward arch, a fact he had learned when he was an elfling and first handled a bow. His fingers released the string.

The elven children on the limb clapped their hands and cheered in amazement as the arrow the prince had just released snapped through one of the ones already stuck in the target. Legolas smiled and notched his bow again, moving back another ten paces. He evened his shoulders and lifted the bow, his sight honed in on the spot in the target some hundred yards away.

Just as his fingers lightened on the string a shout disrupted his awareness, sending the arrow flying straight over the target and embedding itself in the trunk of a tree.

"Legolas!"

The elven prince whirled around. What he saw frightened him more than he would ever like to admit. Estel stumbled from the woods, his arms raised as he tried to reach the elf. Bruises covered the soft skin of his arms and face, and his nose was bleeding, as well as a split lip. Someone had obviously mercilessly beaten the boy.

Legolas immediately dropped his bow and fell to his knees, reaching out to the five year old. Estel collapsed in his outstretched arms, sobbing uncontrollably and clutching the front of Legolas' tunic as if he were afraid a strong wind would rip him away from the comfort. Legolas felt the boy trembling viciously beneath his embrace and his ire rose a few more notches higher than what he would have originally expected. Legolas reluctantly pulled Estel away from him to have a good look at his face. He gently brushed a few dark curly locks away from the bruised face and tilted the boy's head up, gazing intently at the ugly welts that offended Estel's normally flawless face.

"Estel, who did this to you?" he asked quietly, his voice lethal with rage aimed at whomever had harmed his young friend. He gently wiped the blood away from the boy's face with his sleeve, staining the emerald fabric.

"Boys…from the village," Estel replied softly, his breathing uneven from the sobs still inside of him. He winced at Legolas' gentle administrations as the elf cleaned the blood from his face with the soft green cloth of his sleeve. Tears fell down his cheeks. "They…they said…I wasn't an elf or a human…they called me an abom-bomina-tion." If it had been any other time, Legolas would have smiled at the young one's attempt to say the word 'abomination,' but the distress Estel had said the word with was tainted with obvious pain. The boys who had done this to him had clearly hit a sensitive spot when they had said that, bruising an already bruised soul. Estel had always been unsure about whether the elves truly accepted him or not for the fact that he was human. He was not their kind.

"You are not an abomination, Estel," Legolas whispered, pulling the young boy into another comforting embrace. "Lord Elrond loves you for who you are, not whether or not your ears are pointed." Estel unconsciously reached up and fingered the rounded edges of his ears. Legolas smiled and grabbed the small hand in his own, drawing the fingers away from the one of many signs that he was not an elf and never would be.

"B-but, I don't belong," Estel whispered. "They said the elves were sorry for taking me in because I was human, and that the men would reject me because I had grown with elves. They said I didn't belong anywhere." Legolas gazed compassionately into the silver tear-filled eyes that bored into him. He mutely shook his head and stroked Estel's cheek with his thumb.

"Estel, when Lord Elrond adopted you, he wanted you to belong, otherwise he would not have done it. The elves to not hate you for simply being that you are. Those who do not see that are blind. Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, me, we all love you and have not turned you away simply because you are human. Faulting one for something he cannot help is as foolish as it is futile. We love you for what you are here," Legolas said, pointing to Estel's chest, beneath which his young heart beat, "not here." The elf lightly touched the boy's rounded ear as he said the word. Estel nodded and sniffed, new tears coursing down his cheeks.

"They hurt me," he squeaked pitifully, his eyes glistening. Legolas felt his own throat tighten as he gently brushed the surface of a nasty bruise. His rage was hotter than anything he had ever felt before, but it melted as he gazed into the thin, young face wet with tears. He tugged Estel onto his knee and let the boy rest his head against the elf's shoulder, taking comfort from his friend. Legolas whispered soothing things in Elvish to calm Estel's frightened heart. The boy held in his arms closed his eyes, allowing the consoling words wash over his ears, of which now he was proud of. He knew now that his ada or any of his elven family would never willingly turn him away for simply the fact that he was different.

"I swear,Estel," Legolas whispered in Elvish, "I swear that I will not let them hurt you again"

"Hannon le," Estel murmured, burying his face into the shoulder of his elven friend. They remained close to each other for a while, not wishing to pull away, until Estel felt discomfort at the injuries he had sustained. Legolas, feeling him shift, adjusted the load in his arms and slowly rose to his feet. He lifted his bow and slung it quickly over his shoulder without slowing his rise and carried the boy across the shooting range, tugging his arrows from the target as he walked by. The elven children on the branch gazed after him in disappointment. They had enjoyed watching and sulkily slunk away to find something else to do.

Legolas entered the house of the elven lord, his feet barely making any sound on the polished marble floor. He rushed quickly through the entrance hall and into the corridor leading to Elrond's office. He passed by the twins' room on the way, and the door opened as he was passing by. Elladan stepped out, almost bumping into the elven prince. El backpedaled in surprise, gazing at the worried frown creasing Legolas' face and the small bundle he carried. Estel buried his face into the prince's shoulder, not wishing for his brother to see him in such a state and feigning the fact that everything was fine. Elladan was not fooled.

He turned to glance over his shoulder. "Elrohir," he called quickly. His twin appeared at his shoulder, his eyes wide in confusion. Puzzlement quickly shifted to astonishment as he spotted the bruises that dotted their young foster brother's arms and neck, as well as the dried blood that stained Legolas' sleeve.

"What happened?" the twins both asked as Legolas resumed his route to Elrond's office. They kept the prince's pace well, considering the speed he was going.

"Some young boys beat him," Legolas replied shortly. "I was at the shooting range when Estel came to me."

"Elladan, get Arwen," Elrohir told his twin. El, older by moments, was usually the one giving orders, but at the moment he was a bit too shocked to argue. He only nodded mutely and swept off to retrieve his sister. Elrohir accompanied Legolas to the office. Both the prince and the twin could hear distinctly the deep sound of the elven lord within the room. Legolas rapped his knuckles against the wooden door, the knock urgent.

"Enter."

Legolas opened the door and entered the furnished room. He found Elrond and Calen seated in armchairs beside the fire, a mug of tea in each of their hands. They looked alarmed when Legolas and Elrohir entered. Estel turned to look at his father, giving Elrond a clear view of his state.

"Ada…" he murmured, new tears falling from his eyes. Elrond was on his feet and at Legolas' side in an instant, taking his youngest son in his arms. The elven lord placed the boy in the deep armchair, quickly finding the true source of his condition and checking the welts that marked him. Legolas, still concerned, dropped to his knees beside Elrond, taking Estel's small hand in his own. Elrond did not object, in fact, the prince being near to Estel comforted the boy and ceased his squirming as his father inspected him. Elrond took Estel's face in his hands and gazed into the huge, silver, misted eyes.

"Oh, ion-nîn, who did this to you?" he asked. Estel began sobbing again, and had to be wrapped tightly in Elrond's arms to calm down. As Estel released another wave of tears onto his father's shoulder, Legolas explained what had happened.

"I told him that you would never turn him away for what race he belongs to," the elf prince murmured. "I hope I spoke true." Elrond nodded and stroked the back of his son's head. Before he could speak, the small group was interrupted as a fuming Arwen burst into the room, her dark brown hair disheveled, her fair cheeks flushed with rage. All eyes turned to her, surprised.

"I swear," she whispered in what was almost a hiss, "I will kill whatever being inflicted this upon my brother. He will be dead before he even knows who it was who stole his life away!" Estel raised his head and stared at his sister with huge eyes that still glistened softly with pain.

"Please, sister," he whispered. "Don't do that." Arwen seemed to visibly melt and she fell to her knees beside the young boy, shifting her dress out of the way. She grabbed Estel's hand gently in her own as her own tears fell down her cheeks. Legolas stood quietly to his feet to let the twins reach their human brother, moving back to the other side of the room for easy access if needed, but giving the family the time and space they deserved. Calen also took the example and left the room, nodding once in the prince's direction before leaving.

"No one deserves to go through pain like yours simply because you are raised differently than others," Arwen whispered, her voice broken. She brushed Estel's cheek with the back of her cool fingers. "Especially one so young." The twins, now accommodating the place Legolas had just been, reached out and comforted their brother simply with their touch, not knowing exactly what to say. Elrond still held the boy in his arms.

"So…so you don't hate me?" Estel sniffed, his voice small. He gazed at each member of his family in turn.

"No!" they all said at once, the vehemence in their tones causing the young boy to flinch. He huddled slightly lower in his foster father's arms.

"We don't hate you, Estel," Elrond whispered. "Whatever made you think that?" Estel fiddled with the hem of Elrond's sleeve. He always had a habit of fingering whatever was on hand if he were nervous or at a loss of what to say.

"I'm human."

"We do not hate you simply because you are different from us," Arwen murmured. "In fact, we love you more because of it. Those rounded ears are rather dashing." She played lightly with one of his ears, causing him to giggle.

"Maybe I should get my ears rounded," Elrohir muttered jokingly, wanting to raise Estel's spirits. "Ada? May I?"

"A rounded-eared elf," El said, rolling his eyes. "That's a new idea." He cuffed his twin lightly on the head.

"Absolutely not," Elrond responded to his youngest twin's question. "That is Estel's style and it will remain only Estel's style in this family, thank you." He smiled despite the authoritative tone he was giving his offspring.

"It would only look silly, anyway," Estel piped up. Ro smiled.

"How would you know?" he asked. Estel only giggled and burrowed deeper into Elrond's arms. The elven lord tugged the boy closer.

"Estel, know this, you are my son and you always will be, no matter what race you are from," Elrond whispered.

"And you will always be our brother," Elladan put in, smoothing the curly locks back from Estel's face gently as the three elven siblings moved in to surround and comfort their brother. Estel huddled beneath the warmth and consolation of his family, closing his eyes and letting their love wash over him.

Legolas, standing at the other side of the room, suddenly felt like an intrusion at such a precious moment. He crept quietly away, silently closing the door behind him to give the family some peace. He walked away with a troubled heart. He was happy that Estel had such a loving and caring family, of course, but Legolas realized that he slightly envied the young boy. The little one had the only thing that had always been a fond dream to the elven prince, but had not been able to have for too long: the love of a true family. Legolas felt unbearably alone in this world. He had friends, yes, but what he really needed was the undying love that could only come from family.

Legolas walked from the entrance and to the stables. Khílya, munching happily on oats, looked up at the approaching elf and joyously greeted the friend that had raised her since she was a small foal. She nuzzled his shoulder, silently asking if they could go for a ride, and to her delight, the door of the stable swung open and she was able to step out. There was nothing more she loved than riding with her elven friend through the trees. She loved the elf dearly, he treated her as his own, not as horse and master, as she had so commonly seen among other beasts.

She nickered softly as Legolas swung up onto her back and gripped her mane tightly. With a simple Elvish command, he led her beneath the canopy of the trees at a light trot. Khílya murmured happily and tossed her mane, glad to be free of the stables and out beneath the trees. She loved them almost as much as her elf did.

Legolas breathed in deeply, enjoying his solitude under the trees. It was beginning to grow dark and the stars were appearing. He loved the night more than the day. The darkness of it was comforting, and the soft noises were soothing on his keen elvish ears and his slightly hurting heart. If he could not find comfort from another, he would take advantage of the seclusion and try to heal his inward wounds himself. He was not particularly upset about having to sooth his own hurts; in fact, he almost preferred it. It was something he had grown accustomed to doing after his mother's death.

Khílya whinnied softly in fear as the sound of wolf howls echoed over the horizon, her tail flicking uncertainly as she backpedaled slightly. The howls were unusually closer than they had been last night or the night before, do not think she had not heard. She was an elven horse, there were four things that separated her from normal horses: she was gifted with enormously long life (she was already nearly twenty-two years of age), her body was sturdier than that of regular horses, she was smarter than normal horses, and she had excellent hearing. Her ears now were swiveling in all directions, trying to pick up the source of where the howls were coming from. Saying that the wolves put her on edge was an understatement.

Legolas patted her neck and whispered soothing Elvish into her ear, attempting to calm her down. She did, but her tail was still like a whip in the air as she flicked it back and forth. It took some amount of coaxing on Legolas' part, but he eventually got the horse to move forward again. That happened only when the wolves' howls ceased, which took quite some time. Legolas soon entered a clearing, above which the starry sky was clearly visible, helping his heart. He slid gracefully from the back of his mount and told Khílya to stay beneath an enormous beech tree in Elvish, warning her not to stray too far in her grazing. She snuffled in agreement and nuzzled his shoulder, still uneasy about the wolves being so close. He comforted her quickly and stroked her side before leaping nimbly onto the lowest branch of the tree.

He stood still on the limb for a moment, reaching out with his hands until they touched the smooth bark of the tree. He closed his eyes and concentrated deeply, throwing his awareness out into that of the tree, hooking onto its life source. The tree's branches quavered, having nothing to do with the wind. It seemed delighted to meet a woodland elf and eagerly accepted when the prince asked its permission to climb. Legolas always asked the trees he was about to climb for permission, for he did not want to offend them in any way. Trees were distantly related to having souls, for some could be rotten and evil, while others could be strong and good-willed. This one obviously had not met a woodland elf for quite some time and was happy to at least speak to someone.

With the agility of a squirrel, Legolas jumped to the branch above his head, hooking his hands around the think limb. He swung up and around the branch and landed at a crouched position, quickly rising to reach for the next branch. He had reached the near top of the tree in a matter of moments. Having centuries of experience made him quick when in the branches of a tree. He seated himself at the perfect place to watch the stars, the branches and leaves of the trees around him opened in what looked like a window, giving him an excellent view of the night sky. He rested his back against the thick trunk of the tree, one leg underneath him and the other hanging over the side of the limb that he unconsciously swung back and forth. He had not been among trees like this for a while and he was enjoying his time.

Far below him, Khílya pawed at the ground nervously, her large brown eyes searching the shadows for the presence' she knew was there and could feel growing like a shadow elongating beneath the rising sun. Something was definitely not right and her instincts told her enough facts about the current situation to know that they had to leave quickly. She raised her head to bellow a warning to her elf, but the call came too late, for whatever had been hunting them leaped swiftly from the shadows with deadly intent.

---------------

"Thank you, Ada," Estel murmured into his father's chest. He turned to his siblings, who still surrounded him. "Thank you all." They smiled down at him, their eyes bright.

"For what?" Elrohir asked.

"For loving you?" Elladan responded, a similar questioning tone in his voice.

"That would be like thanking the trees for growing or the sun for rising!" Arwen said, ruffling the boy's unkempt curly locks. Elrond gently brushed his human son's cheek with the back of his hand.

"Just know this, Estel," the elven lord whispered, "what those boys said to you today did not mean a thing. If they ever bother you again, call for help or run."

"Yes, Ada," Estel murmured.

"How big were these boys?" Ro asked.

"I think they were almost thirteen," the small boy responded. "They were a lot bigger than me. I tried to stop them from hurting me, but…" His words died as he thought back to what had occurred that very afternoon. He shuddered, making Elrond draw him tighter to his chest.

"It's all right, Estel," he murmured. "Just stay near our home and don't go too far without anyone with you."

"Yes Ada," Estel replied, closing his eyes and sighing in content. "What I really wanted to thank you for was being there for me. Legolas too." Elrond lifted his head, suddenly remembering the young elf prince. He scanned the room, but Legolas was not there, seeming to have left to give the family the privacy they needed. He bowed his head over his youngest son's and pressed his cheek against the dark locks of the boy's hair. He would thank the prince later for helping his son. He stood and carried Estel out onto the balcony, where there was fresh air and the quiet comfort of the nightly sounds. His elven children followed silently. They watched as Estel was placed in a chair on the balcony.

The quiet solitude of the family was interrupted as a knock came from the door. Elrond allowed entry, and a guard rushed in, breathless.

"My lord," he huffed. "Wolves have been spotted close to the city. We do not know what has driven them this far north. We think it might be because of game shortage in their territory, but we cannot be sure."

"Has anyone been hurt yet?" Elrond asked.

"Nay, lord," the guard replied with a curt shake of his head. "Yet they seem close to do so. They are thin and look hungry. They threatened one of the guards."

"Caution those around the area to stay in their homes and pen the livestock and horses. Make sure the wolves do not enter the city."

"Yes, my lord."

The guard left the room quickly. Elladan and Elrohir glanced worriedly at each other, wondering what this new piece of news could mean. Elrond, seeming to read their minds, held up a hand.

"It could be a game shortage, something could have driven them from their homes, whatever the reason, I am sure there is an explainable cause."

"Yes, but the wolves have not come this far north in centuries," Arwen whispered, for Estel was now asleep and she did not want to wake him. "They normally go west or even farther south, not north."

"I am not sure why—"

Elrond's words of reason were cut off abruptly as the sounds of howling and sharp barks were carried on the wind across the forest to their elven hearing. They could distinctly hear the sound of a horse neighing in the midst of the clamor, as well as a sound that raised the hair on their necks and made their faces pale in fear.

A scream.

One that sounded much like Legolas' voice.

----------------

Oh, I'm bad! Cliffie mania! Muahahahahaha! (God, I'm so whacked. O.o) Reviews, please! Yesh...if you're generous I might let him live...-evil cackle-