Disclaimer: Those you recognize belong to Tolkien. I do not own them. Those you do not recognize belong to me.

Summary: Gaining the friendship of a mortal child was not something Thranduil expected on his trip to Imladris with his son. But when secret plots result in grave consequences, the boy may be the king's one hope of survival.

Author's Note: *cautiously peeks out from hiding spot* Hey, everyone! Sorry that it took me a bit to update. School has kept me very busy, and some parts of this chapter weren't being cooperative. *glares at Erestor* Lol anyway, I'm thrilled with the response to the last one! Thank you to PatonxJulia, gginsc, Gwedhiel0117, Lou-deadfroggy, The Pearl Maiden, Elven Warrior Princess, Doreen, and DreamingIn2Eternity for your reviews! I greatly appreciate them, and I'm glad you're enjoying this story so much! Oh, and this is officially what I like to call the "chapter o' guilt." You'll see what I mean :P Haha. Also, since it's taken me a while, this chapter is also a bit on the longer side, so hopefully it makes up for it. It's a bit information-heavy, so not too much action, but there are a couple clues in here that relate to Aeglironion. Again, no slash intended. Enjoy and happy hunting!

Elvish:

ada– father
ion-nín– my son
mellon-nín– my friend
penneth– young one
hannon le– thank you
tithen pen– little one

Chapter 6

Legolas sat against the wall in one of the upstairs hallways of the palace, his legs held close to his chest securely. His breath hitched slightly as tears rolled freely but silently down his cheeks. A dull, throbbing pain spread through his ankle from when he had turned it while chasing his friends, and now, all he wanted was his father. The cheerful laughter of the other Elflings had long since trailed off, and he was left alone in the silence of the hall, which frightened him the most. A quiet sob escaped from him as he closed his eyes tightly, pulling his legs even closer.

"Ada..." he murmured, resting his head on his knees.

The young prince was unsure how long he sat curled against the wall, his small form shaking slightly with every sob as tears continued to fall from behind his closed eyes, before a pair of strong yet gentle hands landed on his shoulders. Legolas instantly knew who those hands belonged to without raising his gaze as the comfort they provided steadied his breathing. His tears slowed when he heard the deep, timbre voice he knew better than any other say his name, seeming to simply know of his distress. The Elfling then turned into the figure's warm embrace, the feel of his arms wrapped securely around him calming him even more.

He was no longer alone.

Legolas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he rested his head on the older Elf's shoulder. The rhythmic motion of the slight rise and fall of the sturdy chest beneath him soothed away any remaining tension, everything about the figure so familiar. While enfolded in his arms, Legolas knew he was safe from any harm.

"My ankle," the prince mumbled, not raising his head or opening his eyes as the figure effortlessly lifted his small form when he rose to his feet.

The familiar figure gave a quiet chuckle, the sound reverberating close to the Elfling in his arms. "You must be more careful, ion-nín," he said. "Do not fret. It shall not be difficult to mend."

Legolas nodded, tightening his arms around the figure as he made his way down the dark hallway. As long as he was there, the prince knew there was nothing he needed to be afraid of. As long as his father was there, he knew everything would be all right.

"Ada!"

Legolas barely heard the word rip from his mouth for it sounded distant, as though it broke through another's lips. His panicked gaze only held his father's ashen face, void of all expression, and he didn't notice the tears that were burning in his eyes until they obscured his vision of the lifeless king. He anxiously reached for Thranduil, but a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind and began to pull him away from the bed.

The prince resisted. He could not be taken from his father's side. Not now. But the arms were relentless, and Legolas soon found himself on his feet and being led further away from Thranduil. The fair-haired Elf turned, finding himself wrapped in the arms of Imladris' chief advisor.

Erestor's pale face was impassive, though his dark eyes betrayed his own fear for the king's life as he kept a secure hold on the young Mirkwood monarch. Legolas continued to struggle, which he had anticipated, but the dark-haired Elf held him back with a strength it did not appear his slender frame possessed. The advisor inwardly winced when a burning pain began to slowly spread from his left side, but he did not release the prince.

"No... Ada. Ada, please..."

Legolas' struggling began to calm, his voice coming out as hardly more than a broken whisper, as Erestor turned his attention to supporting the younger Elf when his legs grew weak. A few tears slid down his cheeks despite his efforts to restrain them, and the fair-haired prince leaned into his friend's hold. Erestor pulled Legolas close, setting a hand on the back of his head as he pulled it down to rest on his shoulder before he took a deep breath as he turned to his lord.

Elrond had been spurred into action as soon as Thranduil had drawn his last breath. The Elf lord immediately pulled the pillow out from under the king's head so he was lying flat, tossing it aside before tilting his head back. Elrohir began to take a step closer to his father, pausing when he caught slight movement out of the corner of his eye as he watched a couple golden leaves fall from Thranduil's crown.

The younger twin then quickly approached the bed as Elrond began pushing down on the king's chest after giving him some air, desperately wanting to do something to aid him. Legolas watched anxiously as the lord of Imladris breathed into his father a second time, trembling slightly from the shelter of Erestor's arms when he moved back to the compressions.

Finally, after a couple more attempts at getting him to breathe on his own, Thranduil's chest rose and fell slightly on its own accord. Elrond remained close, watching his friend intently for a moment before his eyes closed in relief when the Mirkwood monarch continued to take shallow, erratic breaths.

But at least he was breathing.

Elrohir took a step back away from the bed, closing his eyes as well. Erestor released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as he kept a firm hold on Legolas, who appeared as though he would collapse if he didn't, and smoothed his light hair in a gesture of comfort with slender fingers. The prince's face was pale, his damp eyes not straying from his father.

Elrond sighed as he picked up the pillow he had carelessly discarded before gently lifting Thranduil's head and situating it comfortably beneath him. He then sat down beside the king and took one of his ringed hands in his, focusing on transferring some of his healing strength to his friend.

Keep fighting, Thranduil. I will aid you. Keep fighting for a little longer...

"The mint, Elrohir," he said softly, his intense gaze not moving from Thranduil's pale face.

The younger twin quickly sat beside his father, glancing at him with concern when he recognized what the Elf lord was now doing. But he knew better than to question him, and Elrohir took some of the crushed mint he had prepared and ran it along Thranduil's gum line. They did not want to take another unnecessary risk with his irregular breathing.

"What of the poison we found, Ada?" Elrohir wondered quietly, hesitant to break Elrond's concentration.

The lord of Imladris' gaze had begun to grow distant as he continued to pour his strength into Thranduil, but this dark eyes regained focus at the soft sound of his son's voice. "Prepare it." His voice, usually strong and steady, wavered slightly. "Along with the athelas. As Amonost said."

Legolas let out a quiet, shaking breath, though his eyes were still filled with fear as he watched Elrond carefully from behind Erestor's arm. His father, the skilled and fierce warrior he knew, the proud king who did not hesitate to defend his people from the increasing Shadow, was losing the fight against the poison in his system. And it absolutely terrified him. The Elf lord beside Thranduil was now at the forefront of the battle, the outcome resting in his hands.

Erestor's brow furrowed as he studied Elrond closely, concerned for his lord and friend as he continued to willingly give the Mirkwood monarch his own strength. He had done this before to restore the health of those close to his heart, but exhausting his own spirit had a significant impact on Elrond as well.

Then, the chief advisor quickly looked over his shoulder when he heard near silent footsteps, watching as Glorfindel entered the room. The golden-haired warrior's face was impassive, though his intense gaze reflected otherwise. He appeared to be about to say something, but he paused when he noticed Legolas in Erestor's arms, leaning heavily on him for support. Fear entering his gaze, the Balrog Slayer hurried forward, placing his hand on the prince's back.

"Legolas, penneth..."

"Peace, Glorfindel," Erestor muttered as he met his gaze. "Thranduil had stopped breathing, but Elrond managed to revive him." Legolas tensed slightly at his words.

Worry lingered in Glorfindel's eyes as he turned to the bed, his gaze faltering slightly when he saw Elrond sitting slightly slumped beside Thranduil, his eyes closed. He then turned to the prince, squeezing his shoulder in a reassuring way as Legolas straightened himself out of Erestor's hold, though he still lingered near them.

"Any news?" the slender advisor asked quietly, though he cringed when his side protested painfully from supporting the younger Elf's weight.

Glorfindel nodded once as he turned to the dark-haired Elf, his gaze faltering in concern when he saw that he was bent over ever so slightly as well as the pain in his paler features. "I was returning from setting the perimeter, and one of our cooks was leaving the kitchens," he answered, reaching out and setting a steadying hand on Erestor's slightly shaking back. "She was about to begin the preparations of the morning meal, and she told me Aeglironion was there. From what she could see, he was about to prepare some sort of pastry for Elrond."

Erestor stiffened slightly, his dark eyes narrowing. "Was it poisoned?"

"Nay," Glorfindel said, causing relief to cross the chief advisor's face as he closed his eyes for a moment. "I inspected it carefully, and it appeared she interrupted him."

"Thank the Valar," Erestor murmured, passing a hand over his face. He then glanced at Legolas, sighing when he saw the conflict raging in his blue eyes. The fear for his father was still prevalent, as was the relief that he was breathing once more. But anger had also entered his gaze, anger at Aeglironion for poisoning Thranduil. "We must create that antidote."

Glorfindel's gaze hardened. "Aeglironion will not slip past the perimeter," he told him with determination. A hint of a smile curled the corner of Erestor's lips.

"... Elrond."

The Elf lord, so focused on sending his healing strength to the king, was startled by the sudden weak voice. His eyes quickly opened, and a small smile crossed his weary features when he saw Thranduil's half-lidded eyes had opened and found his face. "It is good to see you, mellon-nín," he muttered, squeezing his ringed hand slightly with relief.

Thranduil attempted to return the smile. "Save your... strength," he replied quietly. "I will... be all right."

Elrond chuckled. "You are in need of it more, Thranduil."

"Ada!"

Thranduil immediately turned his head to the right while Elrond looked up, his smile broadening when Legolas sat on the bed beside him, taking his other hand in both of his. "Ion-nín..."

The prince smiled in return, a thin line of tears forming in his eyes. "I am relieved you are awake, Ada," he muttered, his smile lingering.

The king chuckled quietly, causing him to cough a couple times. His smile returned when he felt his son's hands tighten around his. "I will... be all right, penneth," he replied. "Do not fret..."

A small smile appeared on Elrond's face as he watched the Mirkwood monarchs, keeping his hold on the elder's other hand. Though he could provide Thranduil with a sufficient amount of strength with his restorative touch, it was not the same as the healing presence his son could give.

Thranduil sighed before he turned his gaze back to the Elf lord, his eyes narrowing slightly in a thoughtful way. "Aeglironion..." he said, meeting Elrond's gaze. "I remember..."

Elrond raised his eyebrow as he leaned forward a little, tightening his hold on the king's hand. "What do you remember, Thranduil?" he asked, knowing any information on the traitorous cook would be crucial. "What is it, mellon-nín?"

"Greenwood..." Thranduil's brow furrowed as he struggled to recall the memory. "After the Last Alliance... You were with me..."

The Elf lord thoughtfully worried his bottom lip between his teeth. For the life of him, he could not remember encountering Aeglironion in the Woodland Realm while it still bore the name of Greenwood. He did recall it had been a turbulent time, for a devastated Thranduil had been forced to take up the crown the fallen Oropher had been chosen to wear, and his own heart had been heavily burdened with the loss of the High King Gil-galad. He had offered his support to the new king of the Wood during the rough days some time after his coronation, but he did not remember anything involving the cook.

"We have been told Aeglironion hailed from Mirkwood," Erestor said gently, taking a couple steps closer to the bed as its occupant turned his weary gaze to him. "Are you certain of this?"

"Amonost said he first encountered Aeglironion when they were called for the Last Alliance," Glorfindel added, joining Erestor.

Thranduil nodded. "Aeglironion... soldier..." he confirmed. "In my... father's forces..."

"Though if he was from Greenwood, why would he wait so long before he arrived in Imladris?" Elrohir wondered from where he was preparing the poison and athelas. "And say he was from Mirkwood?"

"Amonost may have simply referred to the Wood's current state," Glorfindel suggested. "I... may have shaken him more than I intended." A smirk tugged at the corner of Erestor's lips.

"Or Aeglironion wanted us to forget," Elrond suddenly muttered.

Legolas' wondering gaze traveled to the Elf lord, seeing his fair features had hardened. "Elrond?"

Elrond glanced at the Mirkwood prince. "There were many important matters we were occupied with during that time," he explained. "Waiting as long as he did to arrive here in Imladris only aided in our fading memories. Amonost telling us Aeglironion hailed from Mirkwood was a distraction from the truth at hand, forcing us to seek answers elsewhere. From a different time." He met Thranduil's gaze. "You are absolutely certain he was in Greenwood?"

Thranduil nodded, and the Elf lord sighed as he lowered his gaze thoughtfully. A moment later, realization flared in his gray eyes before he closed them, passing a hand over his face. "Of course..." He paused, slowly opening his eyes again. "The fault for this is mine."

Elrohir quickly looked up from the hopefully beneficial mixture he had been studying, staring at his father with horror. "Ada!"

"Elrond, do not say something so foolish," Glorfindel added, setting his hand on the Elf lord's shoulder. "The fault lies with Aeglironion, mellon-nín, not you."

However, the lord of Imladris only smiled slightly at the golden-haired warrior's insistence, though it had a somber feel, and he looked into Legolas' bewildered face for a moment before turning his attention back to Thranduil. He chuckled quietly when the king shook his head with vehemence, his weary, light eyes narrowed in determination.

"You know this as well as I, mellon-nín," Elrond murmured.

Thranduil shook his head again. "It was I who made the..." he began, but he was interrupted when rapid footsteps drew nearer to the room. Glorfindel and Erestor quickly turned to the door while Legolas, Elrohir and Thranduil looked up, Elrond slowly starting to rise to his feet when his oldest son quickly entered. His gray eyes were wide with panic.

"Elladan, what–!"

"Estel is missing!" Elladan said anxiously, causing Elrond to abruptly pause. "His room is in disarray. I fear he is in danger. He... he may have been taken. I could not find him."

A stunned silence hung over the room's occupants. The child was missing? Dread gripped Erestor's heart. He had no doubt in his mind that Aeglironion had taken him. But what he did not understand was why.

The slender advisor then glanced at Glorfindel when slight movement caught his eye. The Balrog Slayer's body had stiffened, and though his fair face remained impassive, his jaw had set firmly, and his light eyes smoldered. His hand lingered near the hilt of his sword, fingers slowly clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

"Glorfindel–!" Erestor began quietly, sighing when his friend quickly left the room in a flurry of cloak and golden hair, soon disappearing from sight. He glanced back at the shaken Elf lord, his dark eyes saddening before he sighed once more and left the room as well with Elladan close behind.

Elrond weakly sank back to the bed, looking down at his free hand in disbelief for a moment. He then slowly turned to his son, whose eyes continued to move to the door with worry. "Go on, Elrohir," he said in nearly above a whisper.

Elrohir met his father's gaze, his body relaxing slightly when he received a reassuring nod before he set the small bowl down and hurried toward the door.

Thranduil watched the younger twin leave with angry, narrowed eyes before turning to his own child, his gaze saddening when he saw the turmoil in the prince's face. He could almost feel the conflict raging inside him, the longing to stay by his side but also the desire to aid the mortal boy he had grown to love.

"Go on, Legolas," Thranduil told him, adding a note of authority to his tone. Since he could do nothing to aid in the recovery of the child, the least he could do was send his son in his stead. He wanted nothing more than the small mortal who had grown on him to be safely returned.

Legolas was startled as he met the king's gaze. "But, Ada..."

Thranduil shook his head, causing Legolas to stop as a small smile appeared on his face. "You will not do me or yourself any good by sitting here in such distress, ion-nín," he muttered, running his thumb over the younger Elf's hand. "Go... Estel needs you..."

"I should be with you, Ada," Legolas replied, tightening his fingers around Thranduil's hand. The apprehension he felt at leaving his father was clear.

The king's smile broadened slightly. "I shall still be here on your return," he assured him. "Go on."

Legolas still appeared hesitant to leave his father's side, but when Thranduil squeezed his hand slightly, he sighed and reluctantly released his. "I shall not be long, Ada." The prince then rose to his feet, glancing back at the king one more time before hurrying from the room.

Thranduil sighed as he watched Legolas leave, his smile slowly vanishing as he turned back to the Elf lord sitting by his side. His gaze faltered when he saw the fear in Elrond's eyes, along with the anger and sorrow as they fought to gain prominence in his weary and troubled countenance. He tightened his hand around the one that still held his, causing his friend to turn to him curiously.

"Estel will be all right," Thranduil muttered. He knew how much the lord of Imladris loved the mortal boy he was fostering, as well as how he considered him to be his own son. As a father himself, the king fully understood the unrivaled panic from knowing one's child was in danger. His son had put him in the same position countless times.

Though along with empathy, Thranduil could not quell a sudden feeling of guilt. If he were not so weak due to the poison that afflicted him, knowing he still lingered in Arda only because of the healing strength his friend was willingly sacrificing, Elrond could be searching for his foster son. Instead, the Elf lord was trapped at his bedside and forced to care for him. The Mirkwood monarch could hardly recall the last time he had felt such frustration at himself.

A small smile appeared on Elrond's face as he smiled slightly, squeezing Thranduil's hand in return. "Hannon le," he whispered, though the fear slipped through in his tone despite how he tried to withhold it. He closed his eyes for a moment before he once more began to rise to his feet. "Let us see what Elrohir has prepared."

Erestor slowly lowered himself to sit on the end of his bed, closing his eyes as he sighed when he heard Glorfindel's urgent orders to search the house and the surrounding area echoing from the hall. He hung his head slightly, placing his hand lightly on his left side. Restraining Legolas while Elrond had attempted to revive Thranduil had aggravated his stab wound, the throbbing pain causing his breath to come shortly as he doubled over a little. Fortunately, it was not bleeding much from what he could tell, and he would stitch and rewrap the wound himself later. Though Thranduil had recovered slightly from his close encounter with the Halls of Mandos, Elrond had to devote his healing strength to the king instead of something so minor.

The slender advisor's mind wandered back to Legolas. Though he was concerned about Elrond exhausting himself, he was also grateful that the Elf lord had been able to stabilize Thranduil somewhat. He was certain the Mirkwood prince would have faded had his father died.

"Estel is missing!"

Erestor's closed eyes narrowed slightly before they opened when Elladan's panicked words echoed in his mind. Estel is missing. His left hand clenched tightly on his knee. Those three words were a heavy burden on his heart, leaving behind a sense of gnawing fear. Estel was just a child. What threat was he to Aeglironion? Why would he take the boy? He had no part in what was happening.

With another sigh, Erestor slowly rose to his feet, pausing for a moment when the pain in his side flared. Once it passed, he tenderly walked across the room to his closet, eyeing the closed door warily. He hesitated for a moment before he reached out, brushing the handle with slender fingers before grasping it and pulling it open.

Darkness greeted him, and Erestor stood in the doorway as his intense gaze scanned the shelves filled with blank parchment, extra quills, vials of ink, and stacks of organized paperwork. The familiar sight eased his heart slightly, but the feeling faded as he carefully stepped inside. His dark eyes passed over the instruments of his daily tasks, now ignored due to the threats against the lord of Imladris and the Mirkwood king, as he approached the back wall, sighing as his gaze lingered on the second shelf from the bottom. The chief advisor uncertainly reached forward, his fingers seeking the thin sheets of blank parchment that he required for his work.

However, that familiarity was not granted to him, and Erestor instead began to slowly push the piles aside. He instantly stopped when something caught his eye in the faint moonlight filtering into the closet, his jaw firmly setting as he hesitantly grasped the slightly curved handle of what he kept hidden behind the parchment.

It was a Noldorin dagger, as light as any Elven-crafted weapon, protected by a worn, thin sheath. The advisor slid it out a bit to reveal the intricately designed blade it contained, the dark hilt fitting perfectly in his palm.

The weapon may have been beautiful, but it was a sure omen of death, a silent killer.

It had tasted its share of blood.

Erestor was all too aware of that.

"Mellon-nín."

The chief advisor's dark gaze faltered slightly at the strong yet gentle voice that suddenly pervaded the room. It was one he heard often, and he found himself glad for it.

Erestor glanced over his shoulder at Glorfindel, standing in the dark doorway of the closet with concern etched in his fair features. The twice-born warrior opened his mouth to say something more, but then his eyes landed on what was resting in the dark-haired Elf's slightly shaking hands, and his face paled.

Without another word, Glorfindel walked forward and stopped beside the chief advisor, who steadily met his worried gaze with an unreadable one, his eyes a little too bright. "Erestor, mellon-nín..." He briefly glanced up at the second shelf where the dagger's twin remained. "Why..." His inquiry trailed off when the other Elf looked away from him, his eyes resting on the weapon he held.

"Glorfindel," Erestor replied in a voice just above a whisper after a moment, a slight tremble in his voice. "I vowed I would not use these again..."

With a quiet sigh, Glorfindel reached forward and lifted the weapon from his loose grasp. "Not this day, Erestor," he said with a note of authority, slipping the sheath back over the blade securely before setting the dagger back on the shelf beside the second.

Erestor watched as the golden-haired warrior moved the stacks of blank parchment so they were once again concealing the weapons. "But Estel..."

"There is no need." Glorfindel turned back to the dark-haired Elf with a small smile on his face. "The perimeter has been set. Aeglironion will not get far." When Erestor didn't respond, merely staring at the shelves behind him with a faraway look in his dark eyes, he reached out and set one hand on the slender advisor's arm and the other on the back of his neck. "Come. Let us find Estel."

With a heavy sigh, Erestor nodded once, and Glorfindel was relieved to feel the muscles in his body relax slightly. He lowered his hands and walked toward the open door of the closet, but he paused when the other Elf did not follow.

"Erestor..."

"I was the one who left Estel alone," Erestor murmured, seemingly to no one in particular since he could not meet the twice-born warrior's gaze. "If I had kept him with us, this would not have happened..."

Glorfindel's gaze faltered as he watched the chief advisor for a moment before he slowly walked back over to him. Before he could say anything, however, Erestor continued in a whisper.

"I could have protected him..."

The Balrog Slayer immediately reached out and grabbed Erestor securely by the arms, ignoring the startled look he received in return. Glorfindel then briefly glanced up at the shelf where he knew the daggers were concealed before turning back to the other Elf's wide, dark eyes. He had only seen him near this state of mind a couple of times since they had both settled in Imladris, and it had greatly worried him each time. "Do not say such things, Erestor," he hissed fiercely. "Do not place the blame on yourself, mellon-nín, when it is unneeded. Aeglironion is at fault. You knew not what he would do."

Glorfindel paused as Erestor simply looked back at him, appearing too dumbfounded to respond. "Please, mellon-nín..."

A moment passed before the chief advisor suddenly straightened up, the shocked look on his face quickly replaced with his usual annoyed glare. "Release me, Glorfindel," he said sharply, attempting to shove the golden-haired warrior away.

Smirking, Glorfindel was quick to oblige as Erestor began to straighten the sleeves of his dark tunic. This was the irritable Elf he knew. "Let us find Estel, shall we?" he wondered.

Erestor evenly met his gaze. "What are we still standing around for?" he countered, turning from the twice-born Elf before he swiftly left the storage closet.

Glorfindel chuckled quietly as he began to follow him, but he paused in the doorway as he turned back to the shelves on the back wall. His eyes narrowed slightly when they landed on the stacks of blank parchment. He could not recall the last time he had seen Erestor even hold the weapons he kept hidden, and the fact he had been dwelling on it concerned him. He was just relieved he had found the chief advisor when he did.

But now, there were greater concerns he had to deal with. Glorfindel felt his body tense when he thought of Aeglironion, and he rested his hand on the handle of his sword as he shut the closet door behind him.

Estel winced when he was set on a white horse Aeglironion found in the stables, struggling to hold back tears as he worked at the strip of cloak that bound his hands. Though it did not come free. The horse shifted nervously, and though the traitorous Elf began to attempt to soothe it, the creature still seemed to be unsettled. A tear escaped from the child's eye, but he reached out with his tied hands and began to run his small fingers through the horse's light mane before he leaned forward and rested his head against its neck. It was the most he could do with the rag in his mouth.

Aeglironion watched the boy curiously, a little surprised when the horse slowly began to calm, finally giving a disgruntled whinny. "Well done, tithen pen," he said with a slight smirk. "Very well done."

A moment passed before Estel slowly opened his tear-filled eyes, keeping his tight hold on the horse while Aeglironion climbed up onto the steed behind him. The cook smirked, leaning close to the child's ear. "As it seems I am unable to fulfill my plan against your father due to your interference," he murmured, "then at least I am able to bring you with me, Estel. He has as much reason to suffer as Thranduil does." He paused thoughtfully. "Mayhap it would be more suitable for Elrond to endure the anguish of losing a child."

Estel involuntarily shuddered as he closed his eyes, his small hands clenching into fists around the horse's mane as a few tears rolled down his cheeks despite his efforts to restrain them. Although he had to admit he was confused when he thought he heard sorrow in the cook's tone, not anger. But he also couldn't deny that never before had he longed for his foster father as he did now. He longed for the security of his embrace, to be wrapped securely in his warm arms, to be comforted by the sound of his strong, steady heartbeat.

"A-a..." he mumbled through the rag as a muffled sob escaped from him.

Aeglironion's smirk broadened as he took the reins. "Call out for him all you want, Estel," he told him, urging the horse forward. "He will not hear you."

Estel's small form trembled at this thought, seeing Elrond's kind, smiling face in his mind's eye. He felt the cool air on his face as they left the stables, and he opened his eyes and turned to look over his shoulder at the house he had lived in for the past couple years, for he knew it would be the last time he would ever set eyes on it.

Author's Note: And I'll just stop it here ;) Lol! Man, this chapter kicked my butt :P But, at least it's been finished! Aeglironion's one cruel Elf, isn't he? Poor Estel. I've probably only given you more questions about this traitorous Elf, haven't I? Lol! Never fear, they will be answered soon :) Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!