Feud

Feud
www.feud.shadowess.com
By erobey, robey61@yahoo.com
Beta'd by Sarah AK

Disclaimer: the recognised characters and settings used in this fiction were created by JRR Tolkien and are the property of his estate. The words, other characters, and ideas here surrounding them belong to erobey alone. No infringement is intended or monies earned through this work.

Chapter 55: Legolas and Meril

Thranduil's first-born scrutinised the newborn's features thoroughly, searching for some outward sign of the internal connection he sensed, in vain. True, the babe was so young it might be difficult to determine exactly what his adult appearance would come to be, yet it was already plain that there would be little resemblance to the former heir. This child was as much an image of the Woodland King as Legolas was a mirror of the previous Queen.

Bright and intelligent, Taurant's eyes were green and fathomless as the unreadable depths of the sea, rimmed in gold and flecked as if Ariel had dipped her hands into the searing sun and shaken away the excess drops of light upon the little elf. His thatch of golden hair was not the colour of windblown wheat bleached white under Anor's glare, as was Legolas', but rather the rich hue of honey harvested late from the hive, the very shade of his sire's long locks. The shape and set of his rose tinted lips already bespoke the firm resolve for which his father was renowned. Even his cherubic chin bore a hint of the headstrong resilience it would surely come to profess as he aged, marking him as Thranduil's own and Oropher's grandchild.

Legolas was disappointed. None would ever see the link between either of his siblings and himself, and so the rumours would go on concernins pas paternity. Why he had thought there would be some indication of his relationship to the babe he could not now imagine, for his appearance was so strikingly similar to Ningloriel's, to whom this infant had no connection of any kind. Taurant looked Sindarin through and through, for no resemblance to Meril could be discerned either. No wonder Thranduil was so overjoyed; the heritage of his heir was indisputable.

Lindalcon gently tugged on his friend's arm and guided him to the small sofa where Gwilith was patiently waiting. As soon as her big brother was seated she snuggled against the Tawarwaith and smiled up into his joyous countenance. Valtamar's son stepped back to better appreciate the sight of the three siblings, overwhelmed by the absolute contentment gracing the beleaguered warrior's eyes as Legolas gazed first upon the babe and then to his little sister in turn. It was difficult for Lindalcon to reconcile the pyjama clad elf before him with the diminished and suffering soul he had been watching over for the last two weeks, for Legolas looked totally at ease in this domestic attitude.

At last the archer lifted his face in Lindalcon's direction and bestowed a look of such staggering gratitude that the younger elf could not hold back and joined the trio, throwing his arms around Legolas gleefully.

"I can never thank you properly for this, Lindalcon," Legolas whispered, unwillingly breaking the silence, concerned he would break into tears if he tried too many words. Lindalcon squeezed tightly in response, apparently unable to master speech yet either.

Gwilith was not so handicapped.

"Limlas, now show Tauron the book!" she decreed and flourished the tattered volume of pictures she had held to so firmly during the terrifying journey through the tunnels. The child was unable to express how relieved her heart felt to find Legolas here with her again. Gwilith only knew that the three of them belonged together in the same way that she and Taurant belonged to Lindalcon. And while she could not make any sense of the sorrow surrounding her grown-up brother, she instinctively felt his soul's rejuvenation in response to the bond being forged between them all.

Legolas took the book with a smile and shifted Taurant so he could see, though he knew well enough the infant could make nothing of the images. This was for Gwilith, after all.

{And for me.}

He paged slowly through the book as Gwilith proudly announced the name of each animal and plant displayed, looking alternately to Legolas and Lindalcon for confirmation as she uttered the syllables carefully so as to instruct her baby brother correctly. The older two were highly amused by her insistent accuracy, given her enjoyment of substituting memes so freely when the ideas concerned proper given names. Perhaps it was not so unusual, though, for surely she would want Taurant to grasp the cleverness of her little game once he grew a bit.

But Taurant was only days old and more attuned to his body's responses than anything else. Having been dressed in dry cloths and fed to satisfaction, and now held in the warm comfort of his oldest brother's embrace, the babe was soon drifting into sleep. He exhaled a soft sighing yawn that forced his delicate lips into a perfect oval as his gleaming eyes hid behind thickly lashed lids squinched shut in the effort of the involuntary action.

Legolas turned him to rest more comfortably, soft velvet cheek against his shoulder, and was close to rapture to find that the infant had grabbed up a fistful of his ungainly locks and with the same hand planted a chubby thumb into the softly sucking mouth. The archer carefully leaned his cheek against the downy strands of baby hair, smiling to feel his brother's heart pattering against his own so strongly. He glanct Gwt Gwilith, who had stopper rer recitation and was staring at the two.

"It is alright, Gwilith, Taurant saw most of the pictures. You can show him the rest when he wakens," said Legolas softly.

"Shhh!" the Woodland princess shushed him indignantly with a severe scowl upon her dainty face such that both her older brothers had to struggle to refrain from bursting into laughter at such a display of affronted wrath upon so angelic a countenance. "Tauron sleeping now, Legolas, do not wake him up! You be very quiet and I say the rest. Next time, you say pictures," she commanded, unmindful that her voice was as new to her baby brother as Legolas' and would be just as likely to disturb the infant's sleep.

More to the point, Meril's sharp ears would easily detect the presence of an unexpected speaker and bring her inside forthwith to confront whoever dared intrude upon her family's privacy, and so Legolas thought it wise to accede to Gwilith's request.

Legolas wrapped his free arm around Gwilith and drew her closer, realising there might never be another opportunity such as this, desperately hoping his siblings would remember their brief moment of familial unity. As Gwilith spoke, he hugged them both, carefully but tightly, fighting back his sorrow at having to leave them soon. He wanted them to recall their big brother with happiness, knowing he loved them fully and would never part from them under normal conditions.

{They must not think I abandoned them!}

Legolas suddenly became hfiedfied that this would be so, for in fact he must return to the Tasks. He would be forced to forsake them. With abrupt clarity he registered the dismay this would cause, for a child could neither be told of such things as the Judgement he faced nor be fed lies. Elflings were especially gifted in comprehending the distinction between falsehood and verity; no explanation would allay the undertone of disgrace colouring his departure. Even as he had fled from the woodsmen's village without a good-bye to Cemendur and his sisters, Legolas would go from the city and his sibling's lives. He switched his pleading gaze to Lindalcon.

The younger elf understood somehow and patted the wild elf's shoulder for reassurance. His smile conveyed his promise to remind these little ones of their warrior brother, for he knew what it was to have a loved one forgotten and would never allow such a grief to befall his brother and sister.

Gwilith had become silent once more as she felt Legolas' tension and she stared into his worried eyes with compassionate distress. She quickly plopped the book upon his lap and scrambled up on her knees in order to reach his face. Thereupon she planted a quick succession of kisses, covering as much of his visage as she could with her tangibly damp adoration, arms worming their way through hisr anr and past the slumbering babe's head to clasp around his neck. Drawing back to observe whether her usual remedy for her Ada's troubled spirits worked on her brother, the child was rewarded instead with the gleaming sparkle of tears pooling in the Tawarwaith's orbs.

"Legolas, you say pictures now. I say them next time," she whispered into his ear, thinking in her child's mind that this was what her big brother wanted and having denied him she had caused his sadness.

Legolas smiled and blinked back the threatening flow, unable to stop a couple of determined drops from making their way free of his lashes. His baby sister did not allow the proof of his distress to travel far, however, and whisked them away with two delicate swipes of her gentle fingers. For added measure, she repeated her initial contact with Legolas, pressing her palms against his cheeks to force his mouth into a ridiculous pout, which she then kissed with a delighted laugh.

"Say pictures, Limlas!"

"Nay, you say them. I will listen and remember. It is well, Gwilwileth," Legolas whispered back.

"Aye, finish the book, Gwilith. Legolas cannot stay long and he wants to hear you name all the pictures perfectly!" Lindalcon added to distract the child from her oldest brother's despondency. Sure enough, the order from Gwilith's second oldest brother drew a petulant frown to her lips and a defiant shake of her chestnut locks.

"Lind'on, be quiet! Me and Limlas share the book!" she retorted, drawing a snicker from the Tawarwaith. There was no doubt who ruled the household of the Woodland King.

Before Gwilith could resume her recitation, however, there was a muffled call from the courtyard below and the music of the quartet ceased abruptly. Another shout from the guard at the postern preceded the noisy and typically dramatic arrival of Talagan's troop from their successful campaign upon the Orcs of the Misty Mountains. The cargo they had acquired raised an astonished hubbub among the occupants of the barracks' grounds and, true to the inquisitive nature of the Sylvan folk, a large crowd gathered and talk began at once concerning the unexpected prisoner.

Thranduil leaped to his feet, knocking over a pitcher of water in his haste, and strode to the edge of the balcony to stare in disbelieving amazement at the chaotic scene below.

{My eyes must be bewitched for surely that cannot be Erestor of Imladris trussed up like a common thieving poacher from Laketown!}

A smug grin caressed the Woodland King's lips. This was an unexpected boon; here was the final proof of the conspiracy he envisioned, for what possible excuse could Elrond's most trusted advisor have for being at large within the Greenwood without the shield of a diplomatic errand?

{Unless Elrond has demoted the seneschal to messenger!}

Radagast the Brown was dismounting and Talagan, grabbing his unwanted guest by the back of the leggings, gave a laborious heave and shoved him head first over the charger's shoulders into the dust of the well-trampled yard. Laughter greeted the outraged cry of pain, both for his injury and his pride, that issued from the Noldo Lord as his face met the hard packed earth.

"Enough!" intoned the Maia and moved over to assist Erestor, who was trying to right himself to at least a sitting position as blood streamed from his bruised and swelling nose. The seldom seen Istar noticed the couple on the balcony above and met the King's glittering gaze. "Thranduil, come down please." Aiwendil asked politely but left no room for argument; a wizard of any colour outranked an elf, even though he be Ingwë himself.

The Woodland King raised imperious brows and sent a furious frown in Radagast's direction at the peremptory command but turned to Meril to make his apologies nonetheless. He found his mate had risen also and stood with arms crossed and a definite glare of displeasure marring her comely features as she gazed upon her husband's captain.

"Go then, make no requital for this, Hervenn nîn; Talagan shall bear the burden for removing you from my side so soon upon my maternity's completion," she growled quietly yet loud enough for the soldier to hear her. It mattered not to the heir's mother that the Sinda warrior had not been present to know the nativity had been accomplished.

Talagan grimaced to note her displeasure, for Meril's influence over Thranduil was paramount, and he could expect the King to initiate some sort of discipline, even though they had been comrades in arms since the Last Alliance and friends from their childhood days. Talagan wondered that the value he held had diminished so quickly after the second wife moved into the stronghold, despite all his long years of service for his Lord and King.

Wordlessly Meril presented her cheek for the fleeting impression of Thranduil's lips and smoothed her hand against his shoulders as he turned and headed down the rock-hewn stairway to the garden below. Her attention followed his progress as he strode beneath the bobbing heads of her favourite, the sunflowers, and passed through the wrought iron gate to tourtourtyard.

Then, with silence only a Wood Elf could achieve, the Royal Consort traversed the balcony to its adjoining archway with Taurant's nursery.

The sudden cessation of the harmonious strains from the gifted elven singers had alerted that cosy chamber's occupants to the calamitous disruption of their cautiously constructed conniving. Lindalcon jumped with as much alacrity as had his stepfather; he pulled insistently on the archer's arm to force him up as well. Gwilith saw Lindalcon's frenetic attempts to steer Legolas back toward the frightful tunnels and placed herself on the opposite side of the fallen archer, shoving against his legs with all her might. She did not want her Fish Leaf to disappear into that darkness again.

"Hurry!" Lindalcon hissed in a barely audible whisper, "Gwilith, stop that!" Yet neither elf obeyed him, and the Tawarwaith seemed to be resisting the attempt to eject him from the room as much as the little princess was. Lindalcon ceased shoving and opened his arms to accept his infant brother, assuming this was the reason, but Legolas stood firm while an unaccountably stubborn expression of denial overtook his features. Lindalcon's mouth gaped and his eyes widened in alarm at this turn of events, but before he could speak further he heard the step of his Naneth upon the threshold to the open porch.

"Nana!" Gwilith sang out in delight and danced over to grasp her mother's fingers, tugging to coax her further into the room from the spot upon which she had frozen. "Limlas is here; we show Tauron the book!" she exclaimed with gleeful pride and pulled more insistently when her Nana remained still. The elfling's merry smile dimmed when she tilted her cheerful features upward to examine her mother's expression and found her rigid and angry, eyes locked upon the sight of Taurant asleep in the arms of the kinslayer.

"So I see, darling!" Meril found her voice at last as she stared upon the fallen prince cradling her little son protectively against his chest. {Protectively!} She had to make a great effort to banish the wary belligerence from her voice and manner as she met her daughter's concerned eyes and smiled warmly. Meril would not allow the seamy side of the Wood Elves' world to taint her child at so young an age. There was no need for Gwilwileth to be told why this elf was unwelcome.

"Naneth, I can explain this," her first-born began, and wished instantly he had remained silent when her livid gaze of restrained rage turned upon him fully. Lindalcon flinched and stepped back, remorsefully dropping his head to avoid having to look upon her unspoken accusations. This would not be soon forgiven.

"Nay, Lindalcon. Take Gwilwileth to her rooms for she has missed her tea and must be hungry. I will make all the explanations required," spoke Legolas boldly before the irate inu could express her wrath against her oldest child.

"Oh yes, Lind'on! Gwilith so starved! You kept tea away!" The little one returned to her pattern of baby-speech in response to the obvious strain in the atmosphere. She understood Naneth was angry with Lindalcon and hoped the reason was this oversight. The elfling only wanted everyone to be happy again and smiled at Lindalcon endearingly as she darted to his side to clasp his hand in hers.

Lindalcon glanced quickly at his mother, noting her brief nod of assent, and then once more looked to Legolas. The Tawarwaith met his eyes with a calmly reassuring smile as he softly stroked the silky strands adorning Taurant's crown, and in an instant the young usurper's anxiety vanished. He found that he was not sorry at all for what he had done. He was quite proud, in fact, and squared his shoulders before he faced Meril again.

"It was right, Naneth," he said firmly and then made his retreat.

Just before the brother and sister reached the door, Gwilwileth snatched her hand free and flew back to Legolas' side, wrapping her chubby arms around his knees and hugging hard as she bent her head back to make sure he was smiling.

Indeed he was, and Legolas crouched down to encircle his little sister in a final embrace, resting his brow upon the top of her head before settling a sound kiss there. When he pulled back he discovered the child beaming happily and he returned the exuberant grin.

"Thank you Gwilwileth; you said the pictures perfectly! Go and have your tea now!" He released her reluctantnd snd stood.

"You say them next time, Legolas!" she rejoined and skipped back to Lindalcon's side, pleased to have restored the status quo as she exited the room with the carefree jubilation of innocence.

As soon as the door shut Legolas strode to Meril and handed over the babe.

"I would speak with you, Meril," he began before she could utter a sound. "Tuck Taurant in and let us speak softly, for what we discuss should not become the little one's burden, ever!"

Meril was struck dumb by the events she had just witnessed and could only stare in undisguised shock as she mechanically reached out and collected her infant up in her arms. Vision fixed upon the wild elf, her perception recorded the incongruous impression of both menace and tenderness emanating from his person. Somehow Legolas had managed not only to meet and befriend her daughter but had clearly established a strong bond with all three of her offspring.

{I was wrong to allow Lindalcon this friendship, for it has generated this unseemly connection! Gwilwileth must not be marked by his ill-fate, and Taurant need never know he had a predecessor.}, she mused, cautiously regarding the recovering warrior. Perhaps Thranduil's assessment of his potential as an adversary was not exaggerated.

"What are you doing hereshe she demanded coldly, pacing across the room and back as the infant stirred in her rigid grasp.

"As I said; we must speak together for there is much I would say to you," Legolas replied. Though mild in timbre and tone his voice remained as steady and strong as the trees he held so dear, his words clothed with the power of Tawar even as green leaves draped the branches of the canopy in summer.

This was not the soft-spoken, unassuming archer she remembered from her days as Valtamar's mate. Meril faced the Tawarwaith, wild and primitive, barely withholding a deep rage she quailed to have revealed. Somehow the fact that he held this anger in abeyance did not quiet her uneasiness. Abruptly she strode to the cradle and did as he had bid her, trying to assemble some remnant of the calm authority her role as the mother of the Woodland Realm's new prince granted. As soon as she faced Legolas again she realised her promotion would not impress the forest's champion.

Yet, she would not concede so quickly. Folklore's precedent or not, Legolas was still noss-dagnir, accursed off-shoot of an illicit affair, abandoned child of the faithless Queen and Meril felt she should show the outcast his proper place. She lifted her chin and folded her arms against her bosom hiding her trepidation with what she hoped presented as cold contempt for the condemned perpetrator of her first husband's demise.

"You speak with assurance you have no right to assume!" she began. "I have neither need nor desire to hold discourse with such as you!"

"Then Thranduil has not revealed to you his plans?"

"Nothing does the King withhold from me! Our union is not such as you observed between him and your mother!"

"Truly? You are both fortunate and blessed. Yet, I would not have thought you so eager to have Erebor brought up again." Legolas retorted with sharp and icy ire. {How dare she speak of my mother!} He had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the King's consort startle and turn an unnaturally pale shade as this statement met her ears. "So, he has failed to enlighten you!" he gloated without even trying to mask a sneering smirk.

"I do not believe you! Thranduil has no intention of reopening such a grievous hurt upon our Realm!"

"No need have I to be false! Such an investigation can do no further harm to me, yet would I forestall it! I am not as ignorant of all that transpired as some would imagine, Meril, yet for the sake of my brother and sister I would rather none of this come to light!"

"What?" she spat indignantly to cover the impact of that sentence and sought a place to sit before her strength failed her. Lightly she lowered herself to the rocker, never taking her narrowed and hostile eyes from the wild archer's penetrating glare. "I do not understand you!" she prevaricated.

"Aye, you do. Yet your guilt prevents you from owning your responsibility. However, I am not the one you should worry over; there are several others who suspect the same. Indeed, it is through Mithrandir that my comprehension of this mess was clarified. Fearfaron determined the truth independently, but he has not kept the ideas to himself and has shared with Iarwain!"

"What?" she sputtered feebly and her hand found its way to her face to pass shakily across her suddenly parched lips. Eyes locked upon the elf's before her, the belligerent attitude shaping Meril's expression transformed into an outlook of unabashed dread under the blaze of righteous vehemence highlighting the archer's fair face.

And then Legolas pitied her, for he could see she did not understand his motivation and could only sense her world about to devolve into a more bitter sorrow than that which she had already endured. He sighed lightly and his steely gaze softened as he held up a hand and shook his head.

"I am not the one you need to fear," he restated. "That is my brother sleeping there, and Gwilwileth is my sister. For them do I act; even as you wish to safeguard their hearts so do I," he said as he pointed to the cradle.

Instead of inspiring confidence in his faithfulness, she viewed his compassion as weakness, and surmised the whole scene was no more than a bluff. He was playing upon her instincts as a mother, trying to stir her heart with false claims of filial devotion toward her young. This idea enraged her.

{It is all a ruse, he knows nothing for certainty and neither does the wizard or the counsellor!}

Fearfaron she cared not a whit about, for everyone knew he was besotted with the fallen prince. With a renewed sense of control Meril snidely sent him a brittle smile of dogmatic disdain.

"Unwarranted confidence or rather foolish pretence brands your speech! Whatever you imagine in that depraved mind of yours is no concern of mine or of the Council's! And I am sure of your relationship to my offspring, child of Ningloriel, for it is non-existent! I am one of the few who knew of your guardsman's coupling with the faithless Queen!"

Meril flaunted her gift for gathering gossip and winnowing out the germ of truth from which it sprang. She flung out this rebuke with deceptive carelessness emphasising her indifference with a toss of her bronze-hued hair. She was pleased to see the confirmation of her deduction in the flash of pain that shook the wild elf's frame as he unconsciously wrapped his arms around his body as though a sudden blast of winter's breath had found its way within the stronghold. Yet, she did not understand the true cause of the archer's distress, and learned all too quickly that he was not ashamed of his mother's behaviour.

"That is twice now you have let reference to my mother pass your lips with less than kindly intent!" he uttered in low tones as he raised his fiery gaze once more to her smug complacent one. "I will not hear another," he warned and heard her gasp as her soul responded to this command. "I say again, for myself no worse can conditions be, for I am already banished and outcast. My siblings, however," he emphasised the relationship, "have much to lose! If you love them, as I know that you must, then cease your sniping jibes and hear me!"

"I hear you! Why should you seek to halt the investigation, for you have much to gain if you can convince the Council of your innocence! What trickery are you about, hecilo? There is nought you would speak that I need know of!" her words were bold yet her voice trembled and the potency of their impact waned under the stern appraisal of the Tawarwaith. Meril drew in another audible breath and darted her eyes towards the balcony, desperation overcoming her artificial pretension once more. "Go from here, or I shall scream for Thranduil!"

"Would you so terrorise your child?" demanded Legolas incredulously. "Taurant and Gwilwileth must not be forced to live under such a weight of shame that forebodes to crush them! Are you truly willing to chance their future well-being rather than trade words with me, whom you have wronged?"

"Wronged you? How can you accuse me, when it is Valtamar whose life was wasted and Lindalcon who suffered that loss, not you! I am the one that should be angry and you have no right…"

"Silence!" Legolas took a step towards her; fists clenched and face flushed though his voice was pitched low. "I have every right and will hear no more of your threats! Do not dare use your children as your shield! Know that I consider Lindalcon as much my brother as Taurant and I will protect him! Do you understand, Meril? I would have him forever ignorant of the truth of Erebor!"

"What is it that you want, hecilo?" she whispered harshly, fear shining in her emerald green eyes.

"No outcast am I! The Council's Laws have not the power to sunder me from Tawar!" he hissed back as he leaned over her. "If you cannot speak my mother-name, then use the woodsmen's christening: Tirn-en-Tawar!"

"What do you want?" she could scarcely contain her wail and had to cover her mouth to keep from waking the infant so near at hand.

Legolas drew a steadying breath and backed away. He had not set out to frighten her yet her words had angered him more than he would have liked and triggered this outburst. He reminded himself that Meril was cornered and fighting with any means at her disposal to get free of him, and might in another moment of panic rouse Taurant or even shout for her husband. Somehow he had to make her calm down and understand him.

"I want you to stop Thranduil from holding this investigation. If it goes forward, everyone will have to be questioned, Meril, everyone!" he said more gently and gazed at her with all the compassion he could muster. "Whatever happened then means nothing. What matters is the future of these young ones, Lindalcon included! Do you not agree?" he pressed hoping to uncover that strong maternal instinct he had seen evidence of so often in the past, and had heard in her voice just hours ago. He watched her intently as her thoughts churned, mentally writhing between relenting to trust him and stubbornly protecting her singular interests.

"Thranduil truly loves me. We are right together!" she said with frantic insistence. "Our children are innocent and do not deserve to be harmed by a past they had no part in!"

"And so it must remain, then, this union you have forged," said the wild elf gently and nodded to encourage her to continue.

"He would not believe any lies spoken against me!"

"Nay, he would not. But the truth, that is another matter. He would not be able to deny what he knew in his heart to be true. I for one do not wish him to have the opportunity to learn what that entails."

"How would he be taught such knowledge, Tawarwaith? Your words would never sway him, nor does he hold much regard for Maltahondo. Talagan already tried to have you cleared and Thranduil heeded him not!"

"The words will not be his to heed or deny. It is the Council that will hear these things, and they who will instruct your husband." Legolas sighed and sat down on the settee facing her, relieved that she was rational enough to reason out the situation. "The hearing will be public, all will be allowed to attend. Lindalcon, as Iarwain's page, will be there. Every warrior that was present at Erebor will be questioned."

Deep silence weighted the air in the room as the gravity of the fallen prince's declarations eclipsed the Meril's radiant vision of her children's carefree future. She considered carefully the archer's words and recalled each of her first husband's comrades.

"Nay, not every warrior!" her eyes gleamed in triumph and her hard-heartedness reasserted itself. "Some are dead, and one has gone to the West!"

Legolas frowned, for he knew not how to make Meril view the situation objectively. What she said was true, but he had already come to understand that none of the warriors had been unmarked by the battle, and all of them must have their memories and dreams haunted by the replay of the dreadful day, even as were his. What Fearfaron had surmised and Mithrandir suspected, surely some among the company's remaining soldiers had reasoned out as well.

A cavalry of archers and spear-casters knew oth other, depended upon one another's skill and loyalty, understood and counteracted individual's weaknesses to strengthen and maintain the unity and integrity of the company. Centuries of daily sparring, patrolling, fighting, and surviving shaped these groups into a form of colonial symbiosis unparalleled in other facets of Sylvan culture. Everyone in Talagan's troop knew who were the broken threads within the sturdy cloth of their interwoven lives, and not even Legolas would place himself in this category. The warriors knew: the tragedy of Erebor was not a product of the Tawarwaith's flaws.

His opportunity for rebuttal was non-existent, however, for he discerned the all too recognisable footfalls of the Woodland King crossing into the outer sitting rooms and parlours of the royal suite. The disowned heir was not ready to confront his estranged sire and he rose from the sofa quickly. With a last glance upon the slumbering infant, Legolas made his escape, hastening through the open archway to the balcony and down the steps to the garden below.

Tbc