Feud

Feud: by erobey
Disclaimers see Ch. 1.
Thanks to all readers, and especially to Sarah for her tireless efforts as my beta.

Chapter 47: Thranduilion [Son of Thranduil]

"Legolas!" Fearfaron yelled and shook him hard, desperate to force any type of response, even a return to the screaming. "Do not die! He is not worth this!"

"Calm yourself, he lives!" Aragorn snapped, trying to keep the bloody limb still against the carpenter's heedless jerking. "Just hold him steady; he will regain consciousness soon enough!"

Fearfaron stared at him dumbstruck; he had not even noticed the Man come into the room. He turned his attention to the seeping wound and was gratified to see the flow was sluggish. The worried elf watched the human work, pleased to see his competent hands carefully removing the soaked bandaging in order to cleanse and rebind the jagged gash. The mortal obviously had cared for such injuries before.

"What happened? He was fine when we left you!" Aragorn complained.

"I told him Malthen is here. Better to hear it from me than find out by meeting him in the courtyard; so I thought!" Fearfaron's guilt imbued the simple words with morbid despair.

"Malthen? What do you mean, that cannot be so!" the Man was completely confused.

Movement at the doorway caught the carpenter's gaze before he answered and he watched Gandalf hobble into the room and over to the bed.

Their eyes connected and locked as the wizard lowered himself onto the mattress next to the unconscious archer. Without preamble the Istar placed one hand over the old wound on Legolas' chest and began a low, murmured incantation, flooding the weakened elf with a fine stream of his own immortal essence. Almost at once, the grief stricken warrior twitched and drew a deeper breath, exhaling a shaky sigh that was between acceptance and anguish.

"What are you doing?" Fearfaron demanded. He knew exactly what the wizard was attempting and did not like the idea at all. "You have no right to lay such a claim upon him!" he hissed dangerously as his hand darted over and snatched the Maia by the wrist. He yanked the wizard's hand away and pulled Legolas closer onto his lap when the fallen archer whimpered.

"Do not be a fool!" Gandalf growled. "I can help him; this was effective before and thus was he able to make it through the trials of battle to reach your side! I make no demands upon his spirit in this! Legolas owes nothing in return!"

"So you say, yet it cannot be avoided!" the carpenter rejoined tightly, and then startled as the rest of the Istar's words settled into his perception. "What do you mean 'before'? Tell me you have not you done this to him, Mithrandir? Are you ignorant of what Legolas will do when he understands how you have managed to aid him?"

"He has already pledged his eternal allegiance to the wizard," said Aragorn softly. He had harboured hwn mwn misgivings about this very issue, and now that it was out in the open he felt no need to restrain his opinion. "The wizard shared with him thus for many hours when Legolas was overcome with the grieving during our journey."

"Ah! So it is true!" this reply originated from the doorway as Gladhadithen entered with Lindalcon at her side. She halted by the bedside and crossed her arms, glaring pointedly at the Istar.

"What is it?" queried Lindalcon, slipping between the wizard and the human to plant himself on the foot of the bed where he could see his strife-laden friend. He reached out and patted the archer's knee through the blanket. "What is happening to Legolas?"

"Mithrandir is infusing him with the elemental power of the Maiar," said Fearfaron. "The other known occurrence is the joining of Elwë and Melian."

"This is not the same thing at all!" countered Gandalf irritably. "I am only trying to strengthen him through this grieving malady, nothing more!"

"Your intentions may be thus, yet I think Legolas has already established that the impact went much deeper! You communicate with him through mind and thought freely, something he does with others only via Tawar in times of great danger! It is to you he turned after that horrendous nightmare, and it is for you he took that arrow wound," Aragorn reminded his powerful friend.

"Valar! Whether you admit it or not you have stolen his right to choose a mate!" Fearfaron was angry.

"That, I believe, was taken from him long ago!" barked Gandalf.

"Are you saying Legolas is enchanted? Will he become bound to Mithrandirdemademanded Lindalcon in outrage.

"Nay!" shouted Gandalf. "Never would I claim him thus! Legolas is unhindered by this; no advantage would I take of one in so weakened a state, nor ever abuse his trust!"

"Enough!" ordered the healer. "It is too late to change matters, Mithrandir; you have done this thing and the effects cannot not be altered now. Fearfaron, I know it is hard but you must allow the wizard to resume his efforts. Whether we like it or not, he has given Legolas a way to combat the grief. If we wish him to live, Mithrandir will be involved henceforth."

"That is a very high degree of approbation to give one whose fealty is unknown and unstated," came a solemn voice from the hallway. None of the room's occupants had noticed the Woodland King's approach. He entered the chamber and surveyed them all, resting his eyes last upon the deathly figure draped across the carpenter's knees. The screams that had drawn him to this suite were too horribly reminiscent of the death cries of Oropher at the Last Alliance. It was with a strange mixture of emotions that Thranduil regarded the outcast.

He was nearly convinced now that the elf before him was indeed his own progeny, and the guilt, sorrow, and shame this acknowledgement engendered was overwhelming. It galled him that he had been so easily and cleverly manipulated, even to despising his own child before it could be born.

{And what has that child become, to foster such urgency in this Istar?}

"What say you, wizard? For whom are you doing this most unprecedented and selfless action?" The subtle overtone of sarcasm was not lost on the gathered company.

"I am not involved in any of the petty disagreements you elves waste so much time maintaining!" Gandalf gruffly replied. "My interest is in Legolas himself. He is unlike any I have met since leaving Aman and, although I am uncertain as to exactly how, he will be of aid to me in the future. He will be important, not just here in the Greenwood."

"I do not like this! It was you who convinced him to leave for the Southern Regions! Now that I have seen him, it is obvious my worries for him were more than justified! He lies in this state because of the Noldor he encountered there! What other dangers will you set against him?" Fearfaron countered.

"You know of this?" Gandalf was flabbergasted.

"I do not really believe Gandalf means to put Legolas in harm's way," said Aragorn in the wizard's defence. "I, too, am concerned about the depth of the bond Legolas has formed, but I am confident the Istar would not misuse that gift.

"However, I have to add that this warrior placed himself in jeopardy in order to ensure that Gandalf and I made it here intact. Legolas could have fled through the trees out of range of the Orcs had we not been with him. More than once, he offered himself as lure to draw off the majority of the enemy and give us time to escape."

"Thus Talagan reported," concurred the King.

"I suspected as much," said Gladhadithen with a sigh and a sad shake of her head. "He will protect you foremost, no matter the cost to himself, Mithrandir!"

"A nice body guard you have acquired, wizard!" Thranduil's bitter words rang out. "Such excellent timing! You choose to ensnare the one elf that is fast becoming a hero of legendary proportions within my lands! I consider that entirely too much influence for one supposedly unconcerned with the 'petty' objectives of my regency!"

"Thranduil, I assure you I have no designs of interfering in your governance of these lands!" fumed the wizard. "I only want Legolas to live!"

"I want that, too!" Lindalcon spoke up boldly. "I say let the wizard do what he can for Legolas. They can sort it all out later, once he is healed. What is the grief for; is it because of the Lost Warriors?"

"Nay, it is much more complicated," said Fearfaron wearily. Despite his concerns, he had to agree with the young elf. He wanted Legolas to survive, and if the wizard could pull him out of this slow, horrendous death then he must be allowed to continue. "Very well, Mithrandir; help him."

"Wait. Is it certain this is the only means to assist him? Might he not arise from this morbid sleep of his own will, in time?" the King spoke, his eyes once more settling on the insensible features of the wild warrior.

"I did not even think the wizard's gift would have any effect, to be honest with you!" Gladhadithen shrugged as she passed her healer's eye over the prone figure in the carpenter's lap. "He is fighting as hard as he can, however he is so depleted I doubt he has the reserves to pull out of it alone."

The assembled occupants fell silent upon this prognosis and all waited for some sign from the King or the Maia that the cure might proceed.

"What assurance can you give me, Mithrandir, that you will not unduly influence Legolas against the interests of the Woodland Realm?" demanded Thranduil again, but at this Fearfaron became impatient.

"Nay, that is irrelevant! Never could anyone force Legolas to act against Tawar! What I want is your promise that you will not torment his heart any further than has already been done! And you will not take advantage of his early…" the carpenter caught himself when with a quicss oss of his head Lindalcon cleared a stray wisp of hair from his face, "…early physical conditioning," Fearfaron finished illusively. He knew Mithrandir would certainly understand him while with any luck the young usurper would not.

Indeed, Gandalf was furious at this suggestion that he would use Legolas for sexual gratification, and only Lindalcon's perplexed countenance prevented the Istar from bellowing back his enraged protest at such a slur upon his character.

"Fearfaron, I have only the wish to reduce the pain Legolas endures!" the wizard spoke through clenched jaws. "No other motive marks my willingness to strengthen him! How could I seek to harm one who has risked his life to salvage mine? I am appalled you would consider for even a second that I am capable of adding to the toll of woes exacted by Legolas' abusers."

Fearfaron held the wizard's fiery gaze a few seconds and then turned away with a brief shake of his head. In the end, there was no other choice to make; he would not defy the Maia's will nor reject Mithrandir's gift of life.

"What guarantee can I offer, Thranduil, that you will recognise?" the Istar turned to the Woodland King. "I can swear upon my oath to my Order, if you like, for by that vow am I forbidden to coerce any to my desire, even if my only ambition is to render good upon Arda, and thus are my actions guided!"

"Well, some of the time," Aragorn could not help interjecting wryly, and shrugged when the Istar sent him a frown of such heated wrath as to boil tree sap.

"I will accept such a pledge, Mithrandir," Thranduil said, "and remind you that you have of your own free will bound yourself to the interests of the Greenwood through this association!"

"Oh, now who seeks an unlooked-for spy, one that comes and goes among all the free peoples of Middle-earth, no less!" thundered Gandalf, rising from the bed and looking more Maia than old Man. "My bond with Legolas does not make me subject to your interests or your bidding!"

"Peace! Enough bickering, this solves nothing!" admonished the healer.

"Legolas will not be party to any political manoeuvring anyway, Thranduil," Fearfaron reminded him. "Please, Mithrandir, I find your intent to be honourable! If you can succeed in this cure, please do not delay any longer!"

With this directive the wizard resumed his contact with the fallen prince and the air in the chamber immediately became animated, humming with the understated puissance contained in the Istar's voiced supplications to the Powers on Legolas' behalf. Gleaming as would a faint mist rising upon the river at dawn, a shimmering veil of charged ether surrounded them while Gandalf lent as much of his own life force as he could to Legolas.

No change seemed evident, yet everyone remained fixed where they were, hoping for a dramatic indication that the grieving was once more in remission. An attendant to the Royal Consort arrived at the chamber and after brief discourse with the King led away Thranduil and the healer. Worried for his mother, Lindalcon rose from the bed and followed them.

Aragorn watched the carpenter. The kindly elf had begun to weep silently as he held Legolas and gently smoothed his fingers across the ghostly pallor of the warrior's brow. Fearfaron spoke continuously and softly, his voice too quiet for the words to carry beyond Legolas' ears, interjecting faint kisses upon the crown of his foster-son's head. It was plain the older elf was torn over this situation, desiring Legolas have life and also retain the freedom to mold it, and Aragorn was moved by the carpenter's distress.

The Man transferred his vision to Gandalf. When they had met, Aragorn had been surprised to learn of the Istar's true nature, finding his disguise as an elderly human male bizarre. The Istar had cautiously explained about the possibility of attracting the First Born on too strong a level, should the true beauty of the Maiar be made visible through the physical form chosen to house their innate glory. By his own words, Gandalf had claimed his mission too dangerous and important to justify entanglement on such a personal level.

Yet Aragorn wondered if perhaps it was not the other way round. Mayhap it was the Istari who were drawn to the First Born, bright, exquisite Children of Iluvatar, examples of the Music beyond the knowledge of the Ainur. The distraction was apparently enough to cause the powerful beings to shift aside whatever duties their service to the Valar impinged.

The story of Melian and Elwë, known perhaps to no other Man, illustrated Aragorn's premise perfectly. Who had been spell bound in the woods of Doriath? Surely, the majestic Istar could have freed the Teleri elf from such enthralment, yet she did not. Whatever Melian's original cause might have been, she completely immersed herself in the concerns of her beloved's people.

The consequences of her choice for a mate were far reaching. What alterations of Elwë's character her presence made were debatable, yet upon his death so changed was she that she fled back over sea at once. Great was the suffering of the elves of Doriath upon her abandonment and the collapse of her protective magic.

With a heavy sigh Aragorn got up and moved to the basin, belatedly cleansing the sticky, drying blood from his hands. The more he considered it the more the human became convinced; Gandalf was the one enchanted. What that might bode for the dread purpose of the Istar, should Legolas not survive, the mortal could not imagine.

{I cannot say I entirely blame the King for his fears! It may be perilous to claim the wizard as a relative by law, no matter how removed Legolas is from the throne! }

The mortal's impressions of Thranduil were not altogether derogatory, though he found him rude and haughty. Not once had the Sinda Lord even acknowledged the Man's presence in his stronghold! Still, he had opened his home to the wounded travellers, even though the former prince was exiled and outcast. It could not have been easy to openly assist someone that had brought such dishonour to his people. Aragorn even suspected his bargaining with Mithrandir was induced by a strange sort of possessiveness towards the wild Wood Elf, a grudging pride that Legolas had somehow captured the Maia's sympathies.

{Who could not feel for the suffering that one endures!}, he thought sadly.

And with this thought the Man returned to the cause of Legolas' terrible grief. There was so much of the puzzle missing that he dared not speculate on the identity of Malthen. It was apparent this was not merely a lover's nickname for his foster father; Malthen was a unique entity. That raised anew the nature of the nightmare the fallen archer had so grotesquely acted out. Nor had it escaped Aragorn's notice that Fearfaron was already aware of the Noldor's presence and impact upon Legolas. He found himself wishing for Lindalcon's return so that he could question the youth on some of these mysteries.

Hours passed, Aragorn lost couf hof how many. He was aware of the wizard's continuous chanting and the faint counterpoint of the carpenter's pleas for Legolas to rouse himself. The Man stirred the fire in the grate, wondering absently why no retainers or servants had arrived to check on such things, and added fuel.

{Not wood, the black rock that burns, used by the dwarves!} he noted with great surprise.

He settled before the hearth in a wondrously comfortable leather clad chair, the twin to the one he had dragged near the bed earlier, and leaned his head back against the cushioned support, closing his eyes to welcome sleep.

The candles' guttering near extinction met his gaze when he startled awake, uncertain at first what had garnered his notice, for the room was utterly still. The silence was complete for neither the wizard's prayers and spells nor the carpenter's imploring exhortations sounded through the space. A glance to his right showed the cause of his wakening. Lindalcon was stretched out on the settee; legs draped over one arm while his head was propped against the other. The youth had returned to check on his friend's condition and was fast asleep, cuddling something against him in his arms, and the Man smiled at this endearing example of innocence.

Aragorn looked to the bed and found the Maia had returned to the chair and was apparently sleeping sprawled out as though completely drained, his injured leg resting on the ottoman. Fearfaron sat with Legolas still over his lap, a glazed and glassy cast to his eyes as he protectively cradled his foster son.

Aragorn heaved himself from the chair and approached them. A quick inspection revealed no new aggravation to the invalid's injuries and a healthier caste to his fair features. His eyes were still shut, but at least his respiration was more regular and he did not outwardly show indications of severe discomfort. Legolas seemed to once more be slumbering in a healing torpor.

Satisfied, the Man returned to his warm spot by the fire and lounged back, resting his heels upon the grate where the coals smouldered in acrid fumes and iridescent glow. He returned to sleep almost as soon as his head dropped down upon the upholstered cushions.

A burning, sharp sensation of searing pain stabbed abruptly through Legolas' side as though an arrow pierced him there anew, and yet just as swiftly dulled down to a ponderously irritating throb. On the very farthest edges of awareness, he floundered against the thick and muffling cloak of oblivion to comprehend the intermittent discomfort and make some sense of the incongruous sound accompanying the jarring paroxysm.

It was laughter, clear and sweet, sounding high and ringing elegantly in the early morn, more akin to the soof aof a songbird's warbling than a mirthful voice. The sound was accompanied by the slight pressure of something warm and fluttery dancing over his face, brushing at his eyelashes, of all things! He turned his head a little to get away from the strange nuisance.

The injury in his side flared up once more, and Legolas could not prevent a small flinch as he squirmed away from the hurt. His movement produced a sympathetic readjustment of the form against which he was closely held. He recognised Fearfaron's comforting clasp around his arm and the steady, calming cadence of his heart thrumming rhythmically against his back. The carpenter did not awaken however, only tightened his grip around his foster son's shoulders.

The laughter erupted again, and then the poking at his eyelid resumed, and Legolas impatiently brushed his hand up towards the offending irritant. Another high-pitched giggle broke free when his fingers connected with the intrusive, touching digits and next something pinched down on his nose, blocking his nostrils quite effectively.

"Bah!" the archer whispered as his mouth opened to take in air, and again the tinkling peals of merriment met his ears. He forced his eyes open a minuscule amount and found himself staring into a set of hazel-rimmed green depths filled with childish joy and curiosity. Legolas pried his lids up further and gazed fully at the dainty face regarding his, barely inches away. There was an elfling perched on his chest, a very small elfling, and he was finally able to pinpoint the source of the flashes of pain emanating from his side. Her tiny foot was lightly prodding him, as if he was a horse being urged to get moving.

Legolas stared in amazement, and suddenly felt the urge to laugh as he realised how silly he must look with this little one straddling him, the fingers of one hand firmly attached to his nose while with her other she duplicated trocerocedure on herself. He smiled and the child smiled back, letting go of both nasal protrusions, and calmly stuck one thumb in her mouth, hospitably offering her new friend the other. Legolas shook his head, still smiling in astonishment.

"Are you a dream, little one?" he whispered. Something about the babe's features struck a chord of recognition within him, but he could not bring to mind whose offspring he beheld.

The child gurgled out more laughter and clapped delightedly, shaking her head of curly nut-brown ringlets.

"Gwilith!" she piped out suddenly in her baby voice and put both her little palms against his cheeks, gently squeezing them to make a fish-face of the archer's features.

Legolas did laugh then, though it hurt his side to do id thd the sound died away as a low m

The elfling stilled and assumed a pensive expression of deep concern. She turned about and slid down, landing on the floor silently, and trotted gracefully away as Legolas watched. Approaching the sitting area where Aragorn and Lindalcon were quite obviously in deep repose, the little one grabbed Lindalcon's hand and tugged at him urgently.

"Lind'on!" her bell-voice broke into his reverie and he stirred, smiling at her.

"What is it, Gwilwileth? I thought you were sleeping?" he whispered so as not to disturb the others. He reached down and pulled the child up and held her against his chest with every intention of returning to his rest, but the toddler was not co-operative.

She wriggled about in his arms relentlessly as he shushed and cajoled her to be still. Her insistent fussing the older elf ignored, paying no head to her pleas of indistinct babbling though her meaning was anything but vague. At last the child squeezed out of Lindalcon's grip by inelegantly biting down on his chin. The words he hissed were truly not meant for such young ears.

"What is it?" the wizard awoke in an instant, staring around for the source of the indignant curse the youth had uttered. Mithrandir instinctively reaching out to grasp Legolas' hand, which he found already extended to meet his. Their interior connection was just as instantaneous.

"Lindalcon!" Legolas called softly from the bed and instantly the youth bolted from his seat and grabbed up the elfling, hurrying to his friend's side.

"Did Gwilith disturb you?" the younger elf asked. Legolas just shook his head.

"You are awake! That is wonderful!" spoke the carpenter gently, fully roused by the commotion as well. He smoothed back the tangled hair from Legolas' wan countenance, examining the tension in the fair features wrought by chronic duress. Their eyes met and Fearfaron carefully hugged the injured elf, placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead, to which attentions Legolas grinned happily.

Fearfaron's gaze fell upon the Istar's hand wrapped securely around the fallen archer's; he sighed almost imperceptibly. Hould uld he object, seeing his adopted child so improved and the anguish much diminished?

"I am sorry she woke you, Legolas, but I am also glad! I feared you would not, and everyone was asleep when I got back so that I could not ask how you fared!" Lindalcon spoke in hushed tones, for the human was still asleep, and propped the infant up on his hip. The child stared wide-eyed at Legolas, thumb securely in her mouth as she grasped a lock of Lindalcon's hair between her fingers.

Seeing them together, Legolas had no doubt they were brother and sister, and the shock of this caused the archer's eyes to open hugely and his mouth to fall agape in a most undignified manner.

The elfling laughed at him around her thumb and pointed with the other chubby hand. "Lim [fish]!" she cooed.

Hearing this, Legolas could not resist the desire to encourage more from the light-hearted elfling. He pursed his lips and his brows went up, causing another round of giggling to spill out of the impetuous elfling. Even Lindalcon could not suppress a small snicker. The wizard and the carpenter beamed in amused pleasure to see Legolas distracted from his trials.

"Nay, Gwilith! Legolas, this is Legolas! You can say it; I know you can!" Lindalcon coaxed her, eyes darting from the child to his friend gleefully.

"Limlas [fishleaf]!" the child blurted and was overjoyed at the chuckle this earned from the injured elf and the snort that escaped her brother's nose. "Limlas, Limlas!" she repeated in her singsong voice, encouraged by their attention.

Gandalf could not suppress a deep belly laugh any longer and the rumbling guffaw rolled through the room, joined by Fearfaron's burst of giggling.

"Oh no, I believe that is rather final sounding, Legolas! I am sorry!" the youth lied as he smiled widely.

Legolas' grin was enormous as he reached out and cautiously patted the elfling's head while she yawned and snuggled into her brother's shoulder.

"Your sister? How old is she?" he asked softlyill ill amazed this could be so.

"Yes, she looks just like Nana, doesn't she?" Lindalcon said as he settled on the edge of the bed, adjusting the child onto his lap as he pulled himself carefully up. "She is almost two years old."

"Why did no one tell me when last I was here?" he demanded, more than a little insulted not to have been let in on this startling event.

"Legolas, I did not even know myself until Naneth was nearly due to deliver! You had already left by then." He answered.

"I wrote you about it," added Fearfaron. "Did you not receive the news?" Legolas shook his head silently.

"Nana and I had been at odds, and I have avoided both her and the King," Lindalcon continued. "She did not seek me out to tell me. That is mostly my fault because I was still angry that she joined with Thranduil!" Lindalcon was clearly not finished feeling bitter over both the relationship and the child's creation being withheld from his knowledge.

The little one tensed under his change in tone and he relented at once, soothing her hair and kissing the soft downy strands until she relaxed and drifted back into reverie.

"I could not stay away from Gwilith, though, and she has brought Naneth and me closer. It is still not the same as before we came to the stronghold; I will not pretend Thranduil is part of my family. But Gwilith is my sister, and I am the only one Nana trusts to watch over her, other than herself," he stated proudly.

"She is beautiful!" Legolas said and his joyous smile flowed over the two. A supportive squeeze to his fingers drew his attention to the Istar, whose gleaming eyes yet burned with strong concern for how this would affect the forest champion. Legolas returned the pressure to reassure his benefactor, silently renewing his pledge to Mithrandir at the same time.

"Her name is Gwilwileth [butterfly], but she cannot say that so we have all taken to calling her Gwilith! I am Lind'on; Iarwain is Arwain; Fearfaron is just Faron, and now you are Limlas!" Lindalcon hesitated; watching Legolas carefully as though trying to decide if he was fit enough to continue the conversation.

"There is more to tell," he said as his eyes travelled over the battle-weary body, down to the clasped hands, and returning to gaze with questioning concern into the archer's pain dulled orbs. "How are you, truly?"

"I am in some discomfort," Legolas' reply was barely whispered, and Lindalcon was startled by the admission. "But it is better than before, thanks to Mithrandir."

"What has happened to you? Why has Mithrandir intervened; is there really no other means to keep you alive?"

"Please, Lindalcon, do not ask me to speak of this!" Legolas groaned and turned away, huddling against Fearfaron and burying his face against the carpenter's shoulder.

"Ai! Do not bring these things up now, Lindalcon! There is time enough to discuss it all once Legolas has recovered!" he scolded the younger elf.

"Aye, but what is it you are not revealing, Lindalcon? Is it so bad?" Gandalf demanded.

"Nay, not bad so much as rather shocking. I know I was shocked, and I am not even really affected by it, at least not in the same way. I do not want to make Legolas relapse!"

"Valar, Lindalcon! Now I am worried! Tell me this dread knowledge at once!" Legolas propped himself up so he could stare the younger elf in the eye. "Do you know what he is hiding, Fearfaron?"

"I can guess. Whatever it is can wait until you are more rested, Legolas! You have been through enough stress as it is!" the carpenter stated. "Lindalcon, I would rather you had waited until Legolas is more fully recovered to bring these tidings!"

"I would have, but I just needed to tell someone, and he seems much better now."

"Lindalcon, if you do not tell me I will have to go and find out for myself! Obviously it is important or you would not have hesitated to speak! I insist; if this concerns me I have a right to know!" Legolas stirred and made movements suspiciously similar to ones required to get out of bed, but Fearfaron held him firmly in place.

"Nay, be still! You are worse than that elfling there!" scolded the carpenter. "Very well, Lindalcon, I suppose he will hear soon enough, if it is what I suspect!"

"Alright! But you must promise not to let him be overcome by it!" this aside he directed to the Maia with a glare partially imploring and threatening at the same time.

"It is just that Naneth has been in labour all day and night, that is why I have charge of Gwilith now. She woke up in all the noise and bustle in Nana's room; the healer told me her crying was a distress to Naneth, so I took her with me. Just an hour or so ago my baby brother was born."

Legolas blinked, dumbly staring at his friend, trying to make the statement sensible to him. The words just did not seem to belong in the same reality where he existed.

Thranduil had a son, Lindalcon's brother, a true prince of the Woodland Realm.

Tbc