Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien, thus, I do not own the characters or Lord of the Rings.

A/N: Okay, this is much longer. Anyway, I wanted to give special thanks to GildorInglorion for reviewing the last chapter! I can't say it enough: I LOVE REVIEWS! They just brighten up my day! Anyway, enjoy the chapter and please review!

Chapter 4

A golden-haired elf sat in the midst of a garden, eyes closed, breathing slow, and a smirk spreading over his face. All at once, two figures jumped at him. The figure was instantly on his feet and turning, sword drawn. The two dark haired figures pressed attack together, but with two clashes of swords, both were unarmed.

"It was a good effort." The golden-haired elf smiled.

"But we didn't get you!" One of the dark-haired elves, who were identical, complained.

"You'll get me one day, Elrohir. But only when Elladan here stops tripping over branches."

The other, Elladan, looked disappointed, "I didn't think you would hear that, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel smiled fondly, "Well, I did. No worries, I knew you were coming either way, but still, do try to be careful."

Elladan nodded sullenly, "Sorry."

Elrohir shrugged, "We'll get him next time!"

Hearing this, Glorfindel looked to the younger of the two twins, "My dear Elrohir, it will take many years before you best me in anything, except perhaps your insufferable pranks."

That had both twins in fits of laughter. They knew it well, and they loved pranking elves. However, they rarely targeted Glorfindel. For one, the golden-haired elf was a warrior, and not afraid at all to pick them both up and take them to their father or punish them himself. For another, they had some respect for him, especially now that they had begun training under him.

Glorfindel shook his head, hiding a smile, "All right, calm down, both of you. Why don't we go for a ride?"

Elrohir nodded enthusiastically and Elladan said, "Oh, yes please!"

"Come on then." Glorfindel grinned, leading the two twin sons of Lord Elrond toward the stables.

The two younger elves rushed ahead, and by the time Glorfindel had reached the stables, were already saddling their horses. Glorfindel called to Asfaloth, his own stallion and easily saddled him. The twins were waiting outside, impatiently, for the elder elf and his horse.

Glorfindel mounted, easily riding out of the stables and looking down at the two un-mounted twins with a devious grin, "Come on, we haven't got all day."

"Actually," Elladan whispered to Elrohir, "I think we do."

Chuckling under his breath, Glorfindel turned Asfaloth and led the twins out of Rivendell. Before long, the two twins rushed ahead, not satisfied with being lead. Glorfindel smiled fondly after the two, keeping an eye on them, just in case.

Elladan suddenly stopped, staring at something, "Um, Glorfindel!"

The golden-haired warrior looked up, "What is it, Elladan?"

"Um… Come over here, please!"

"If this is a prank, I swear-" Glorfindel threatened.

"It's not!" Elladan promised, fear filling his voice.

Riding over, Glorfindel looked at the elder twin, "What's wrong?"

Elladan motioned noiselessly to the ground. Glorfindel looked down and, among the tall grasses, lay a young elf, not much younger than the twins, and a white-silver stallion lying beside him.

Dropping to the ground, Glorfindel took gentle hold of the elf's shoulders and shook him slightly. The young elf didn't wake, but moaned. The stallion, however, nuzzled gently at his rider's back, turning him onto his side and revealing a gash in the child's arm.

The blond warrior gasped, tracing the wound gently, which caused the elf to moan in pain. Glorfindel closed his eyes for a moment, inspecting the wound as best he could without touching it. Elladan had dropped beside him, fear filling his eyes.

"Will he be all right?" Elladan asked, worry filling his tone.

"I don't know," Glorfindel answered, "But he'll be better if we get him to your father."

Elladan nodded in agreement, standing, "How do we-"

"I'll take him with me. Ride swift, Elladan, and tell your father about this." Glorfindel instructed, taking charge of the situation.

Elladan hesitated, "You'll be okay with Elrohir?"

Glorfindel gave him a look, "I'll be fine."

Elladan nodded, mounted and rode off toward Rivendell. Carefully, Glorfindel took the blond elf in his arms. The youth moaned in pain as the warrior accidentally brushed the wound against his tunic.

"Elrohir," Glorfindel called to the twin, who was ten feet away, watching with eyes full of fear, "Do you think you can hold him, just for a moment, while I mount?"

Elrohir nodded, carefully taking the elf from Glorfindel while the elder mounted; then handed him back. Holding the blond elf carefully and protectively, the warrior nudged Asfaloth into a steady trot, careful not to move too quickly for fear of further injuring the child. The young elf moaned only once on the journey back to Rivendell; the white-silver stallion followed Asfaloth closely.

Elrond was waiting for them, blue eyes full of worry, "Hurry, Glorfindel." He chastened.

Glorfindel nodded, carefully sliding off Asfaloth to land gently on the ground. Still, the youth moaned as the landing jolted him. Glorfindel murmured apologies under his breath before striding toward Elrond.

"I have a room ready." Elrond informed him, leading the golden-haired warrior through the halls, "Can you tell what happened to him?"

"No, M'lord, I can tell only he is injured, and he was alone, except for his stallion." Glorfindel filled in the Lord of Imladris.

"Alone?" Elrond seemed greatly concerned, fear in his voice, "He is younger than the twins! Surely he should not be alone!"

"I agree," Glorfindel said sadly, "But for now, we must help him come back to this world."

Elrond nodded, opening a door and leading his old friend and current advisor inside, "Lay him down, please."

Obeying, Glorfindel set the child down, "Is there anything else?"

Elrond looked up from rummaging through his healing herbs, "Stay, please, just in case."

Glorfindel nodded, taking a seat. Elrond stood and moved over to sit beside the young, injured elf. He traced the wound on his arm, carefully, but still the youth flinched terribly. Whispering soft, calming words, Elrond managed to tear off the sleeve around the wound to get to it easier.

Gently, the Lord of Imladris got a washcloth wet and began to clean the wound. Then, he took some of his healing herbs and tenderly pressed them against the wound. This was met with a large flinch from the boy. Elrond just murmured comforting elfish words and continued pressing the herbs onto the wound. When that was done, the healer retrieved a clean strip of cloth and wrapped it firmly around the youth's arm.

"He'll be fine now." Elrond promised, looking toward Glorfindel, "What I want to know is: who is he? And why was he traveling alone?"

The warrior shrugged, "I haven't the faintest idea. His stallion had a traveling bag hanging from his neck; there might be something in that that could identify him."

"Go get it then!" Elrond said, intrigued by his patient.

Glorfindel stood and ran quickly from the room, his interest also sparked. He returned moments later with the bag that had been draped around the stallion's neck. Both sat down and Glorfindel undid the latch, opening the bag. He pulled out a change of clothe, a bit of remaining lembas, and a water pouch. On closer inspection, Elrond found a map of Middle Earth and a small portrait of a family.

The picture showed three elves, a mother, father, and son. The father had pale blond hair a little past his shoulders and green-blue eyes. The mother was slim; graceful, with brown-red hair to her shoulder blades and bright blue eyes. The son had blond hair and twinkling blue eyes. All three were smiling merrily.

"It must be himself with his mother and father." Glorfindel whispered, an almost sad touch to his voice, "I wonder what happened."

"I don't know." Elrond answered, "But his mother strikes my memory as someone I knew, yet I cannot think from where."

"Legolas!" Thranduil shot up, breathing hard.

It took a moment for the Elvenking to realize he was in his rooms. Slumping back against the headboard, he sighed softly, tears filling his eyes.

"It was just a dream." He reassured himself aloud.

"Thranduil?" Faeron's soft, concerned voice called from behind the door, "Are you all right?"

"P-please come in, mellon nin." Thranduil managed, trying to breath.

Faeron immediately obeyed, taking care to close the door behind him before hurrying to his king's side, "What's wrong?"

"Just a dream," Thranduil whispered.

"A bad one, by the look of you," Faeron took his friend's hand.

"No word on him then?" The Elvenking asked wearily, sadness brewing in his eyes.

Faeron shook his head, knowing well his report would do little to ease the king's mind, "Nothing, not a peep. I'm sorry, Thranduil; truly I am."

"I know you are, but it's not your fault." The King answered sadly, "If this is anyone's fault, it's mine. I should've kept my temper and been kinder with my words."

"Thranduil," Faeron's tone was warning, "Don't you dare start this again. Your brooding does nothing for your son or anyone else. You should be getting up anyway. We have a long day ahead of us."

Thranduil nodded, but the pain never left his eyes.

"At least we know he isn't dead." Faeron pointed out, trying to be of some consolation to the king.

"Yes, t-there it that." Thranduil managed to agree, "But he could be hurt."

Faeron nodded. The prince had a way of getting into situations that ended with him getting hurt. Hopefully, where ever he was, Legolas was warm and safe. A foolish hope, but Faeron clung to it, because Thranduil's son meant so much to him. The young prince meant quite a bit to most the staff, actually, though the Elvenking didn't know it. He prayed that Legolas would be safe, for all their sakes.