Disclaimer: Don't own. Never did; probably never will. :(

Author's Note: Okay, I admit, it's short. I know; I'm sorry. I had a pretty weird week that involved going to the beach (without my computer). I have a ton of other excuses that you probably don't care about and half of you probably aren't reading this anyway, so I'm going to stop rambling right… now.

Chapter 3

Thranduil sat on his throne. His advisors were arguing about something, but what exactly was lost to him. All he could think about was his son, who was out there, somewhere, alone, and how it was his fault. If He hadn't lost his temper with Legolas, the elf would still be safe in Mirkwood.

A few of the elves were standing, shouting angrily at each other. Faeron glanced the king's way, noticing how lost in thought the king was. Gritting his teeth, he stood.

"Can we not have order?" Faeron thundered, annoyance flowing off of him like a river.

The other advisors looked at him, wide-eyed, for never did Faeron lose his calm disposition. But the elf before them was positively fuming. He frowned deeply at their stares.

"We'll discuss this again later, when we're all less hungry, tired and generally in a bad mood." With that, the king's oldest friend turned curtly away and walked to the distraught king's side, waving the rest away.

The advisors hurriedly obeyed, not wanting to see Faeron get any angrier. As soon as they were gone, Faeron crouched beside Thranduil.

"M'lord?" He asked gently, touching the king's hand, "Are you feeling all right?"

Thranduil looked up, pain in his eyes, "No, I'm not."

"Mellon nin," Faeron sighed, "You aren't helping Legolas or the search parties by neglecting your duties. We'll find him, sooner or later."

The Elvenking looked up, "But if I have lost him, Faeron, I cannot go on. I have already lost my father and my wife, if I lose my son, I will fade."

"Do not speak that way! The people of Mirkwood need you!"

"They will not be leaderless, I would appoint one to succeed me after news of my son's death was brought, and I would pass over the-"

"Thranduil!" Faeron yelled, starting the king by using his first name for the first time in many years, "You're people do not need just any elf as a leader! They need you!"

Thranduil sat back, "Long has it been since anyone was so blunt with me."

Faeron looked down and stepped back from the throne, "Forgive me, M'lord. I overstepped my bounds."

"No, there is nothing to forgive, mellon nin (my friend)." Thranduil forced a smile, "I needed that, and I need you to keep me in my right mind. You know me better than anyone else alive, Faeron, do not abandon me when I need you most."

Eyes softening, Faeron hurried back to his friend's side, "Never, M'lord."

"Thranduil," The king corrected softly, "Just Thranduil."

Legolas loved the feel of the wind flowing past him. He felt so free now, beyond his father's borders. Silverwish's hooves pounded away; baring for the mountain peaks before him.

"Keep at this pace," Legolas whispered to Silverwish, "And we'll be at the top of the mountain by midnight. Can you go that long without rest?"

As if in response, Silverwish pressed on swifter. Legolas braced himself and let his control over the horse cease, and Silverwish dashed over the country, aiming for the High Pass. Legolas felt his freedom stretch out before him and found himself leaning forward, mind set on going to Rivendell.

But even Silverwish tired. By dusk, they were nearly at the top, but the stallion's pace had slowed drastically. Something told Legolas they shouldn't stop, though, a menacing whisper in the back of his head.

"I don't like it here." Legolas uttered, dismounting Silverwish and taking the lead. The pass was thick with fog.

Silverwish whinnied in return, staying close to Legolas. The elf slowly picked his way through the fog. His ears suddenly alerted him to a sound, a dangerous clatter: Goblins. Drawing his twin blades, he turned, senses alert.

He listened carefully, making out the footsteps of eleven individuals. Closing his eyes for a second to prepare himself, he readied his twin long knives. The Goblins were suddenly upon him.

Swirling, he took out one with a stab to the neck will simultaneously killing another with a slight to the throat. Moving with jumps and leaps, he killed seven with his knives before getting a cut on the arm from one of the blades. Angered, Silverwish stormed out of what seemed like nowhere, trampling two into the ground. Ducking a blow, Legolas found himself faced with the last two, both larger than the others, and one almost bigger than Legolas.

The Goblin struck first, Legolas parrying simply, almost easily. As the two came closer and started to strike together, Legolas leapt back out of their reach, fear shining in his blue eyes. Silverwish whinnied encouragingly from somewhere behind him, spurring the young elf into action. He lunged to the right, using their size and clumsiness against them. He out stepped their blows and slipped behind them, stabbing them both in the back before they had time to turn.

Breathing hard, Legolas knelt down to wipe off his blades and whisper a prayer of thanks to the Valar. He then stood, sheathing the knives and inspecting the wound on his arm. Satisfied it wasn't fatal, he looked up at Silverwish.

"We should leave." Legolas said softly, looking to the horse, "Can you carry me?"

The stallion tossed his head and pawed at the ground, as eager as Legolas to leave this place for fear of more Goblins. Legolas murmured his thanks for the ride and mounted, grasping the white mane and encouraging, not that Silverwish needed much of that, the stallion forward, down the mountains.

Legolas rode as best he could, but his exhaustion was growing. They hadn't stopped to rest in more than twenty-four hours, and the fight with the Goblins had done little to keep up his strength. Legolas was tired and hungry, but should he eat the lembas, he would have none left if anything went wrong.

He realized with a start that Silverwish's hooves were no longer pounding against stone. Snapping out of his reverie, Legolas looked down to fine grass beneath them and the mountains growing further behind them. Relaxing, the elf slumped against Silverwish, exhaustion hitting him like a wave again.

The stallion slowed down, eventually stopping in the high grasses, confident they wouldn't be seen from afar. Legolas dropped to the ground, asleep immediately. Loyally, Silverwish lay down beside him to keep the elf warm and safe.

The dawn sun would soon be in the sky, Silverwish knew, but he wouldn't wake the tired elf. They could arrive at Imladris late tomorrow, if need be. Closing his eyes, Silverwish too drifted into sleep.

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