AN: Hold on to your seats, folks. It's going to be a bit of a wild ride from here on out. Hence the warning sign below.
Caution: Beware of Cliffhangers
Chapter Eighteen: Rumors and Enemies
"That wasn't too terrible, was it?" Elladan asked teasingly as they left the banquet hall.
Legolas grimaced, refusing to answer his friend's question.
"Elladan, don't do that," Elrohir complained with a sigh. "Are you all right?" he asked the prince. "You seem quiet."
"Just a bit tired, I suppose."
Elrohir grunted in agreement. "We'll escort you to your room and leave you to sleep, then," he said decisively.
Legolas smiled. "I don't need an escort, I remember the way on my own."
But the twins wouldn't listen to his protests, and would not leave him until he was inside his room with the door closed. He shook his head, chuckling inwardly. Even now that he was home, they still felt like they needed to look after him.
He was about to change out of his formal robes when he realized he hadn't spoken to Thilator, like he'd been planning to. He slipped back out of the room, nodding a greeting to two elves who passed him in the hall. There were still enough other elves around that he didn't think Amarthwen would come after him in the hall, but he was wary anyway.
Legolas made it back to the banquet hall without any trouble, but to his disappointment Thilator was no longer there. He couldn't remember where the tutor lived in the palace, but decided he could always find him another time. The hour was growing late, and he would hate to disturb the elf's peace.
"Looking for someone?" Brithdil asked, seeing the young elf re-enter the banquet hall.
The prince shook his head. "He's not here...it's not important."
Brithdil smiled. "I think your friends left only a moment ago. They've been staying in a suite down the north hall—you might be able to catch up with them."
Legolas looked at the captain blankly for a moment, then his eyes lit up in realization. "Thank you, Brithdil," he called, hurrying down the hall. The captain must have meant Relfían and Ceretín, he realized. It was a little odd to him to consider them friends after these years, but he supposed it was only a matter of time before they were close again.
He spotted them down the hall, just entering one of the rooms. Rather than call out to them, he quickened his pace but lost sight of which door they'd entered. Undeterred, he paused next to the doors, listening carefully, to see if he could find out where the cousins were staying.
"...come back at all?" That was Relfían's voice, but Legolas paused with his hand still raised to knock on the door. It sounded like they were arguing.
"Relf, he couldn't stay away forever," Ceretín replied tiredly. "He's a prince, and he belongs here."
"Then why did he leave in the first place?"
"You know as well as I what happened," the older cousin hissed. "Thranduil had to send him away after Belegdur locked him in the dungeons, otherwise there would have been a scandal."
Legolas froze. Did everyone really believe it was Belegdur?
"I don't believe it," Relfían growled angrily. "You still believe that? You still believe something actually happened? What about the nanny...I think her story sounds closer to the truth."
"You know Legolas would never have acted that way," Ceretín said sharply. "Someone obviously frightened her into covering for Belegdur."
Relfían snorted. "Seems a bit far-fetched to me. But if he was so happy in Imladris why didn't he just stay there, then? It's not like we need him here."
"That's enough!" Ceretín nearly shouted. "What do you have against him, anyway?"
"He hasn't grown up," Relfían replied, his voice bitter. "You have, I have—everyone else has but he hasn't! Didn't you see it in his eyes today? He's still just an elfling!"
"Relf," Ceretín protested, but Legolas did not stay to hear the older elf's reply.
Legolas closed his eyes, backing away from the door. He didn't want to hear any more—he wished he had never listened at all. Relfían's words cut him deeply. They had been good friends before, he couldn't understand the venom Relfían held toward him now. And Ceretín...did everyone really think those things about Belegdur?
Head down, he slowly walked away, not quite minding where he was going. He could feel eyes on him, and hear the whispers that followed him as he walked but paid no attention.
"Legolas?"
The young elf nearly flinched. After what he'd just heard, Belegdur's voice was the last he wanted to hear. "Good evening, Belegdur," he said softly.
"What are you doing?" the older prince asked. "Look at me...what is the matter?"
Legolas caught his brother's brown eyes, stern yet strangely compassionate. "I just...I overheard something upsetting," he said, truthfully.
His brother frowned. "Were you eavesdropping?"
"I was looking for someone," Legolas protested. "And I heard what they were saying."
Belegdur sighed. "Eavesdropping almost never reveals anything good," he said calmly.
Legolas looked down again. "At least I know how they feel now," he said miserably.
"And does that make you feel any better?"
"No," Legolas shook his head. He heard his brother sigh again, and looked up to see a distant look on Belegdur's face. He wasn't quite used to this...when he was an elfling Belegdur almost never talked to him, and then it was mostly to scold him. Then again, wasn't this a scolding now?
"What did they say?" Belegdur asked quietly.
Legolas started. He couldn't tell Belegdur what Ceretín had said...he still felt some loyalty to his old friends and didn't want his brother angry at them. "It isn't important," he said. "They were just words."
Belegdur shook his head. "How many secrets do you have?" he asked.
Suddenly under the older elf's scrutiny, Legolas felt and urge to slip out of sight. He forced himself to stand upright, meeting his brother's eyes.
After a moment, Belegdur glanced away, his gaze sharpening a bit. "If you don't want to tell me I won't force it out of you," he said, a bit sharply. "But you shouldn't keep so many secrets, Legolas. You're not the only elf alive who has had something bad happen to him."
His head was nearly swimming at his brother's sudden change in mood. He started to ask what Belegdur meant, but held his tongue, not wanting to somehow anger the older prince.
Belegdur brushed past Legolas, his head held proudly high. "Oh, and Legolas?"
The younger prince turned to face his brother, wondering what else Belegdur could have to say.
"Do you think you could find something more appropriate to wear tomorrow? It might be a good idea if you could look like a wood-elf rather than dressing in the...garments...your Imladris friends gave you."
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Brithdil was whistling a merry tune as he strode down the hall to his own rooms. He'd been speaking with the captain in charge of training the new warriors, and the older elf had agreed to Brithdil's idea—on a few conditions, of course.
He smiled. It was so good to have Legolas back in Mirkwood—he'd grown rather fond of the young elf during his visits to Imladris, and had been awaiting the day of the prince's return.
Many of the other warriors felt the same. The king's family was well-known for skill in battle, and every child of Thranduil who had picked up a weapon had done exceedingly well. Brithdil could still remember the first time he'd seen Princess Eldawen wield a bow in the archery tournament. She hadn't won, but she had come close.
Brithdil's smile broadened when he caught sight of Legolas down the hall. The prince must not have visited long with his friends, the captain surmised. He was about to hail the young elf, when he noticed something amiss in his young friend's bearing.
"Are you all right?" he asked, catching the prince by the arm when Legolas nearly walked past him without noticing him.
Legolas glanced up, and Brithdil could see pain in the younger elf's eyes. "I'm fine," he said quietly.
"Legolas, you can talk to me," Brithdil urged. "Is something wrong?"
The prince shook his head, glancing over his shoulder. Brithdil followed his gaze to an elf who was unmistakably Belegdur, and surmised that the brothers must have had an argument of some kind. Perhaps Belegdur was trying to enforce a curfew on the young elf?
"Come with me," Brithdil said quietly, beckoning Legolas further down the hall to a small alcove. "Did Belegdur say something to you?"
Legolas wouldn't meet his eyes. "No...nothing important," he finally said.
Brithdil didn't reply for a few moments, hoping to give the younger elf time to organize his thoughts. "Is something else bothering you?"
"I...I want to go home."
"You are home," Brithdil replied, unsure of what the prince meant.
"I mean home to Imladris...Brithdil, do I even belong here?"
Brithdil bit back his immediate reply, instead thinking over his answer out of consideration for Legolas. "Yes," he said, firmly. "You are a prince of Mirkwood, Legolas. You belong here."
"But everyone else thinks I should have stayed in Imladris."
"Who?" the captain asked.
Legolas was quiet again for a few moments. "Relfían."
Brithdil sighed. "Oh, Legolas, you have to understand...a lot has happened to your friend since you left."
The prince looked up. "What do you mean?"
"Do you remember Haudhel, his father? About ten years after you left, Haudhel was horribly injured protecting your father. He could not be healed, so he chose to sail into the West and his wife went with him, leaving Relfían to be raised by Haudhel's brother, Eithellim—Ceretín's father. Eithellim raised him well, but losing his father so young was a hard blow."
"He said I hadn't grown up," Legolas said softly.
"No, you haven't," Brithdil agreed. "Not completely. Legolas, you came of age ten years ago. You are still very young...so are Ceretín and Relfían, but Relfían has a hard time seeing it."
Legolas nodded in understanding. "What should I do? I still want to be his friend, but after what he said..."
"Do your best to forget it," Brithdil said encouragingly. "Relfían will come around. And if he doesn't, he isn't worth your friendship. Legolas, you've done nothing wrong. He's very angry...give him time to get past his anger and he'll realize how much he still values your friendship."
The captain smiled. Legolas looked a little better...apparently Relfían wasn't the only one who needed to adjust to the prince's return. Legolas himself needed time to realize that this was where he belonged.
"Thank you, Brithdil," the prince said softly, rising to leave.
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Legolas felt less heavy-hearted as he opened the door to his chamber. He knew Brithdil was right—and maybe Relfían didn't really mean everything he'd said. He also knew he might never forget what he'd overheard, but he could try his best to put it out of his mind. And as for Belegdur's criticism...well, he had heard Belegdur criticising one of his sisters earlier for wearing her hair too casual for the banquet, so he had decided not to mind his brother's words, even if they did sting. Belegdur had always been too concerned with appearances—this Legolas did remember. And he was rather biased against Elladan and Elrohir for some reason, so Legolas assumed the slight was directed more toward them than toward him.
As Legolas entered the room, he noticed a rather peculiar smell. It tickled his nose, and he coughed a little. The smell was strangely sweet, though there was a bitter undertone. There was also a lot of smoke in the room, as though something had been smoldering on the fire.
He caught sight of a few odd-looking leaves among the burning logs, and took the poker to stir the fire about, hoping to clear the smoke. It seemed to make things worse, and the smell near the fire was even stronger, more overpowering.
Something about the sweet-smelling smoke set Legolas on edge, as though some sense was warning him of danger. But he couldn't see anything in the smoke—it was stinging his eyes, and there was more of it than there had been before.
Legolas staggered over to the window, stopping for a moment to lean against the windowsill, his head spinning. Whatever was in the smoke was muddling his senses, nearly suffocating him. It was overpowering, sending strange messages to his mind.
His senses were screaming danger to him, and he threw open the window, gasping for fresh air. He hung his head out for a moment, breathing deeply the cool night air. He decided to make a run for the door as soon as his head cleared, and find someone who would know what was wrong with his fire.
Legolas took a deep breath and held it, then spun on his heel to run for the door. He'd only made it a few steps when someone grabbed him from behind, throwing him into a painful headlock. Fingers dug deeply into his neck, and his heart tightened in panic. He tried to fight, tried to remember what he'd been taught, but everything fled his mind, leaving him lost in the blankness of terror.
"You haven't told anyone our little secret, have you?"
He froze. His heart was thumping wildly. The voice was muffled, and when Amarthwen stepped into the light he could see why. She had a rag across the lower part of her face, obviously to keep the smoke out. But if she was in front of him...
"N-no," he stuttered out, when the one holding him gave him a good shake. He wanted to twist around to see the other's face, but the hold was too tight.
"I should hope not," Amarthwen said, almost indignantly. "After all, it is our little secret. Just between the three of us."
Three? "Who else?" Legolas demanded, though his voice was thready and weak.
"Oh, you'll learn in time," Amarthwen crowed. "Tonight is just a warning...next time, I won't be so merciful."
With that, she pulled a long knife out of her belt. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you," she said as Legolas panicked. "But you need to remember...no matter how many call you a prince, you're still just a filthy little orc."
Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?
AN: The next chapter should be up soon...I don't want to leave the cliffie all weekend, so I'll see if I can get the next one posted on Saturday or something.
And I promise: the truth will come out in the next two chapters.