Well, here we go again.

My thanks to all you wonderful readers with special mentions to Teapot of transformation,Bettsam0731, LegolasLover2003 and DaHybridQueen. You all know why!

Lets see what else is there to say. Ah yes. Please let me know how it is for you! :)

Chapter 53

'Nay!'

The single word reverborates through Legolas' mind and his heart turns to ice, his worst fears realised. To hear his fathers beloved voice denounce him, see the pain of betrayal and the look of disgust in eyes once filled with love is almost too much to bear yet he refuses to give in. His pride will not let them see the pain he feels as the frost spreads around his body, pulsing through his veins as he surrenders to its burn. He knew this would happen yet could not stay away, the need to see for himself that his father was safe proving greater than the need for self preservation. He lowers his eyes, unable to stand the look of loathing he knows will be directed towards him, and awaits the final sharp release the blade at his throat will bring.

'Nay!'

One word, one word and Thranduils world comes crumbling down. He staggers like a drunkard as his mind tries to take in the enormity of his deed. Staring at the figure held before him he does not realise that the self loathing he feels is twisting his features such that his son feels it to be directed toward him. A sense of revulsion passes over him as he sees the knife digging into the pale, creamy flesh and he turns away, thus missing the last sorrowful look in Legolas' eyes before they harden into icy crystal and are lowered to the floor.

"Legolas!"

Estel finds himself once more at the sharp end of an arrow as he pushes a guard out of the way to reach his friend, his hand stayed in the act of unsheathing his sword by its unwavering presence. Looking to his brothers for assistance he sees they are likewise hindered and his heart hammers wildly in his chest at the thought of what may come. "Leave him alone!" He tries to push past the arrow but finds his arms grabbed and twisted mercilessly almost to breaking point behind his back.

"Stay your hand." The lieutenants voice is lost in the tumult as he strides over to the kneeling prince. "Stay your hand!" He shouts out as he sees the king turn away as if to condone the execution, "Saes. He is innocent. Stay Your Hand!" He almost sobs the words as he reaches out to clutch at the hand poised for the killing stroke. "He is innocent, Legolas is innocent."

The guard freezes, uncertain of what to do next, looking first to Doronor then to the knot of advisors who are now clustered around the obviously distressed king. One tall figure detaches himself from the group and walks proudly over, disgust written all over his face as he stares at the bowed figure kneeling before him. Then turns his malevolent gaze to the lieutenant.

"Innocent! " the word is forced out through clenched teeth. "You say he is, innocent!" As he speaks the three brothers share a horrified look. The last time they saw this elf was at Imladris. This is the haughty advisor who denounced Legolas and pronounced his sentence.

Doronor swallows and nods, unable to speak with the force of the gaze upon him.

"If this, Kinslayer is indeed innocent," the advisor continues with a sneering smile, "pray tell why he admitted his guilt?"

"Because he was so wrapped up in pain and grief he did not know what he was saying." Elladans eyes are dark pools as he desperately calls out in Legolas' defense then turns his pleas to the king. "Thranduil! Saes! He is your son. You must hear our story before an even greater crime is committed."

The advisor opens his mouth, a sharp rebuke waiting to spill from his lips when the king raises his hand and slowly turns to look back at the young archer who has knelt, unmoving throughout.

"I," the kings voice briefly falters and his eyes flutter closed for a second as he inhales deeply before continuing with the words he knows he must utter but break his heart. "I have no son." The words cut through the air like a knife as Thranduil pulls himself up to stand at his most regal, his face arranged back into its usual icy mein.

"Yet," He moves his gaze across to fix Elladan with a deep almost pleading stare. "We will wait to hear what it is you have to say before dealing with the," there is the minutest of pauses as his mind seeks for an alternative to the word he can not bring himself to utter, "exile."

A collective sigh of relief rises from the small group and Estel feels his heart leap hopefully in his chest as he shares a smile with his brothers but it dies on his face as he looks over to his friend. Legolas remains as if set in stone, instead of the lessening of tension he expects to see there is nothing. No indication that he has even heard the kings words. His back straight, shoulders stiff, eyes lowered, he appears to still await the draw of the blade across his pallid throat.

'I am truly disowned then, he can no longer even bring himself to speak my name.'

Legolas is adrift in a sea of self loathing. Thoughts race through his mind as he kneels waiting for it all to end. To bring such shame upon his father that he can not even stand to look at him never mind speak his name would break his heart, if it were not already wrapped in ice. Waiting for the final cut he almost feels himself to be outside his body, detached, as if his fea has already taken flight. There is nothing here for him now. Thranduil is safe the plot averted and his passing will only bring relief to a father betrayed by such a worthless son. Estel will forget as human memory fades, greater deeds press upon him and he finds new, more worthy friends along the way. The world will continue without him, and that is as it should be. He braces himself for the sting that never comes.

"Bring them!" With these curt words Thranduil turns and walks away. "I will speak with them in my study. Have Gallion bring wine." Continuing to move as he speaks the king leads the way, never once looking back to ensure he is being followed, aware that to do so may make his resolve weaken, his true feelings show and he can not afford for that to happen. Not yet.

The group find themselves being herded out of the room in Thranduils wake and Estel watches anxiously as Legolas is pulled, roughly to his feet, worrying as the young prince shows neither emotion nor sense of awareness as he is pushed along to join them. Unable to move closer to his friend as they make their way along the corridors the young man continues to observe his disconnected appearance and his hands clench in frustration at the lack of contact allowed between them. He almost jumps when a strong hand is placed on his shoulder to give a gentle squeeze and he turns his head to look into the warm, deep brown eyes of his eldest brother.

"Sidh, Peace, Estel," the whispered words of comfort bring a small smile to his lips. "All will be well once Thranduil has heard our tale."

"I hope so, muindor" the young man replies without conviction as he glances back to his friends blank features once more. "I truly hope so."

Upon entering his study Thranduil marches over to the large, highly polished oaken desk, turns with an ostentatious swirl of deep blue silk and seats himself in the high backed chair behind it. With his elbows resting on the highly polished surface he steeples his fingers, schools his emotions and watches the group inexpressively as they are herded in and lined up before him.

"Leave us!" He waves one long, elegant hand in dismissal and the guards file silently out of the room closing the door behind them. The advisors however, move to take up positions behind the king and stand, grim faced in two groups of three, stern and aloof, their chief glowering at Legolas as if daring him to move.

Silence falls over the room as Thranduils eyes study the beings before him. All except one. He dare not let his eyes alight upon his son for fear of what he may show. Fixing his eyes upon Doronor he opens his mouth to speak when the door swings open and a smiling, dark haired elf enters carrying a large, ornate silver tray upon which sit a crystal decanter filled with wine the colour of rich red rubies and half a dozen goblets, etched with a twining vine design.

"Your wine Hir nin," he moves to place the tray upon a cabinet to the side of the table then fills a goblet with wine and hands it to Thranduil with a questioning look in his eyes. The king takes the proffered drink and with a brief shake of the head indicates that for now the remaining goblets should remain empty. Galion dips his head in acnowledgement then turns to leave and utters a short gasp when he notices Legolas standing amongst the group arrayed before the desk. His eyes quickly pass from son to father and back again and an expression of utter sorrow crosses his face before he quickly walks to the door and exits the room.

"Aie, That's better." Thranduil takes a long draught of wine before placing the goblet on the desk and fixing his eyes upon Doronor. "Now, lets see," his fingers trace around the etching on the base of the glass, "You say you have uncovered some sort of plot against me," he pauses to lift the vessel to his lips once more for a sip before placing it back down and allowing his fingers to resume their wandering. "Yes?"

"Oh, yes, Arun nin." Doronor stammers out, unsure if this is a rhetorical question or not.

"Well," The king raises his eyebrows and a flash of impatience passes through his eyes. "I am waiting."

"Oh, yes," the lieutenant repeats himself as he shuffles his feet slightly, "well, I suppose it may be best if Estel should.."

"I would hear it from your lips lieutenant," Thranduil breaks in sharply darting a warning look from Doronor to the advisor. "In that way there can be no, accusations of duplicity or manipulation." He shoots the brothers an apologetic look so swift they are unsure if they have really seen it or not.

"Very well, sire." Doronor bows slightly "If that is your wish."

Thranduil takes another sip of wine before nodding for the warrior to continue then settles back in his chair to listen as Doronor begins to speak.