CHAPTER NINETEEN

**Sinking deeper into the warmth of the bed and burying his nose in the soft pillow, Legolas smiled to hear Elrond moving about in the outer chamber. The low rumble of the Elf-lord's voice offered comfort, as did the reflected light of the fire dancing on the walls. Closing his eyes, Legolas drifted off into sleep. Moments later, he felt the bed dip and Elrond's body pressed close against his back. A long arm snaked around his middle, and the Elf-lord's other hand reached up to comb his fingers through Legolas' hair. Murmuring softly in contentment, Legolas shivered at the affectionate gesture, only to come bolt upright and gasp when Elrond bit his neck hard enough to draw blood. **

Waking abruptly from a fevered dream, Legolas grabbed the rat scrabbling for purchase on his shoulder and flung it hard away. The rodent slammed against the far wall of the cell with a satisfying thud. The moment of silence following the impact was broken when the scratching sound of claws on stone marked the rush forward as the stunned rat was set upon violently by its fellows. Tumbling and biting in the darkness, they feasted on the welcome meal while Legolas subsided against the damp rock wall of the cell. The rats were not terribly picky about dining while their meal was still among the living, as he knew all to intimately, but at least he would have a few moments respite before they turned his way again.

Wiping a hand down his neck, the elf felt the sticky warmth of his own blood. Shivering, he pressed closer to the wet cell corner he'd claimed and rolled tighter into himself.

His waking dreams had gone beyond nightmares to the point that Legolas feared he had begun hallucinating. Tortured by memories of Imladris whenever he dared to close his eyes, the Elf fought to stay awake. There were other reasons to stay ever watchful and avoid surrendering to sleep, for the starving creatures he shared the dungeon cell had proven all too willing to eat him alive. If Legolas dared to be still for any amount of time or let himself fall into sleep, the rats leaped on his feet or gnawed at his arms. Their particular treat seemed to be the ends of his fingers.

Legolas knew all too well the rats' hunger and desperation, for he shared it. Mithrandir had brought food and light the first time Thranduil's youngest had been imprisoned beneath the stone keep. The wizard had not bothered to seek the king's permission, and Thranduil had pointedly ignored Mithrandir's kindness and compassion. At that time too, the wizards' visits served Thranduil's purpose: the old man came to ask if Legolas yielded to his father's demands that he go to Imladris and be bonded to Elrond. The fact that the messenger brought a meal with him was of no interest to the King.

Now, apparently, the delivery of food still was not of any interest to Thranduil, as none ever appeared in Legolas' dank cell. The elf accepted that his father had no interest in him. No bonding had taken place in Imladris, and Legolas suspected his father had no further demands - or use - for his disobedient son. No one would come because Thranduil required no answer this time. For that matter, Legolas thought the king probably didn't require a son any longer either. Let the rats gnaw, there was no reason to prevent it.

With no cycle of light and dark to guide him, Legolas had lost track of how long he had been captive. Last time, he had spent six weeks in the darkness. There had been no rats attacking him, or at least there had been food enough to satisfy their hunger before they began eyeing him as a food source. Last time, his cell had been dry. Last time, there had been a voice that had spoken to him kindly from time to time.

This time, the small cell assigned to Legolas abutted the river. Early exploration in the darkness had informed him that foul water unfit for drinking all but buried a twisted corner grate that was too small for him to fit through, which made escape impossible. Unfortunately, it was not too small for the rats to gain entrance.

Water pooled on the dirt floor, rising through the grate when the river ran high. Between exploring the possibilities for escape and Legolas' constant pacing in the early days, he had churned the water to mud. How many days had it been since he had sank to the dirt floor, despairing of ever gaining his freedom? He had no idea. Not that it mattered, keeping track of the rising and setting of the sun. Likely he'd never see the sun again.

No one came this time at all, not even the odd guard to check on him, and the silence beyond the iron door told Legolas that the rest of the dungeon was deserted. It was as if he lay forgotten by everyone in Mirkwood and everyone beyond its borders as well. As for Thranduil himself, Legolas had not seen his father before being cast into the dungeon.

His longing for a bit of food was fading as the days passed, and the easing of the gnawing hunger as his belly accepted the inevitable was a mercy. But more than that, Legolas longed to be warm and dry and clean. He longed also to look on Elrond one last time before he died, to thank the Elf-lord for the comfort of his home and the gentle ministrations of his heart and his hands. To thank Elrond for showing Legolas what it was like to feel welcomed and loved.

Sometimes, he thought perhaps he was going mad in the darkness. He had come to fear that all he remembered, all he had come to love while with Elrond had been nothing but a dream created by his fevered brain in the confines of the dank cell. But how could it all have been a dream when the very seal of Elrond's house was still seared into the palm of Legolas's hand?

Taking a desperate, deep comfort in the scarring, Legolas traced it over and over again, closing his fingers and cradling his hand to his chest, and smiling to remember the close care Elrond had taken with the injury. Legolas remembered too the small comforts and caresses he had been gifted with during his stay in the Elf-lord's sanctuary. No one other than Elrond knew of the seal and no one would, so that no one could take it from Legolas.

Not even the rats, he thought as clenched his fingers fiercely around the branded palm. Not while I still live. After that, the rats and the river were welcome to have their way with his flesh and his bones. The guards that had set upon Legolas on the borders of Mirkwood had made him lose his beloved knives, had made him leave his beloved bow on the forest floor, but nothing could separate him from the deep, scorching scar that marked him and reminded him that once, in all but body, he had belonged to the Lord of Imladris.

Sometimes Legolas dreamed of Elrond riding over the long miles that separated Imladris from Mirkwood. He dreamed of the Elf-lord coming to rescue him as Elrond had promised to do. Even as the dream comforted his heart, it panicked his mind. Elrond should not, could not come for him. Had Legolas himself not warned the Elf-lord to avoid Thranduil, to avoid confrontation elf to elf and kingdom to kingdom, to stay safe in Imladris?

Elrond cannot come, he must stay safely there, Legolas thought in sadness, closing his fingers slowly over the palm of his hand. Thranduil would only hurt and starve him as well.

* * *

The mist had rolled in with the setting sun, thick and heavy to cloak all of Mirkwood in chill gray shadows. Shivering slightly where he was perched in a tree outside of the main gates guarding Thranduil's keep, Glorfindel cocked his head and listened. The sound of a horse's hooves whispered across the damp leaves covering the forest floor, and the Elf-lord peered in vain through the mist. Was a lone horse and rider sneaking through the Mirkwood night, or was the animal only returning home alone after having dumped its rider?

Glorfindel was certain of one thing: the intruder was no one come to help him save Legolas. Barely enough days had passed for the twins to have reached Elrond, much less for any liberators sent by the Lord of Imladris to have reached Mirkwood--except for perhaps an advance scout. More than one champion would need to be sent for any rescue effort to succeed.

The mist swirled and cleared as the horse drew nearer, so that finally Glorfindel could see its rider. Halting only a few feet away, the cloaked figure slid silently to the ground and whispered a command into one velvet ear. No guard from Mirkwood was this: Glorfindel would have recognized the long limbs and large, tense frame of the Lord of Imladris anywhere.

"Elrond," Glorfindel hissed through the mist.

Whirling, the Elf-lord stared up at Glorfindel's tree. Throwing back the hood of his cloak, he locked gazes with his friend a moment before Glorfindel dropped to the forest floor. Elrond's gelding snorted and danced with alarm, but a gentle touch and whispered word was enough to calm the animal.

"I thought you might come," Glorfindel said softly, laying a hand on Elrond's shoulder. "At the same time, I hoped you would not."

"How could I not?"

"By simply stay home and leave the fighting to others." Glorfindel offered a weary smile in answer to the deep frown he got in response. "Who, pray, is protecting Imladris?"

"My sons." Shaking water from his cloak, Elrond glanced at Mirkwood's gates. Torches burned there, winking and hissing in the rain. "Is Legolas within?"

"He is. Those who took him from under our noses were a group of Mirkwood warriors whom Legolas considered his friends. Twice Thranduil has forced them to betray their friendship."

"How do you know this?" The elven lord sought answers, but his gaze never strayed from the gates, as though seeking to see what he desired within.

"They told me. I see them quite often, twice a day in fact. They've opened their hearts and shown me their despair. They've also been quite kind about keeping me informed of goings on within. And they've fed me," he added, almost as an afterthought. "I was not subtle in my pursuit, so all of Mirkwood knows I'm here--including Thranduil I would assume. I couldn’t find a way to sneak within, and I've been perched in this tree for days waiting for some opportunity to present itself, so I'm sure they're expecting someone to join me. I doubt, however, that anyone expects the someone to be you. Why did you not tell me that Thranduil imprisoned Legolas and forced him to come to you in Imladris?"

"That sort of betrayal is no one's business," said Elrond. "If Legolas had wanted you to know, he would have told you."

"What sort of a father could do such a thing?"

Elrond pointed toward the gates. "That sort. The sort who would have his son abducted by his friends. The same sort who wished his son to bond with me regardless the misery that would follow." Elrond scowled. "If all of Mirkwood knows you are here, then why have you not gone in to retrieve Legolas?"

"The patrols are quite friendly, but they've made it clear I'm not welcome beyond those gates. They are not afraid of me--what can one Elf do, after all, against all the host of Mirkwood? They are afraid of Thranduil, of what he can do when he is displeased. I think that is what is holding them back. And, therefore, it detains me as well."

"We shall see." There came a sudden tension to Elrond's body, a smoldering fury in his gaze. He gestured imperiously. "Go on."

"Mirkwood knows me from when Mithrandir and I visited before joining you in Imladris. Therein lies the rub: Thranduil knows that I dwell with you, and he won't let me in. While they have been half-expecting a company of Elves to come and offer negotiation for Legolas, you personally have not left Imladris in centuries. In any case, they wouldn't believe that you would come to claim their prince."

"And why not? He is mine."

"Erm... not quite yet he's not. To Thranduil and his minions, your failure to bond with Legolas indicates a significant lack of desire to do so. The gossip has it that Thranduil blames his wayward son for failing to keep his agreement. Privately, the citizens of Imladris believe the responsibility is yours. They say you are certainly grieving the loss of Celebrian and have no interest in taking another mate. Regardless where the blame is laid, the result is the same: Thranduil has thrown Legolas back in the dungeon."

"What?" Elrond hissed.

"It's all quite justified from Thranduil's point of view," Glorfindel said almost conversationally. "Your Elf is accused of deliberately destroying the alliance between Imladris and Mirkwood. Basically, he's been imprisoned for committing treason toward king and kingdom."

"That is absurd."

"That is the tale carried by the guard of Mirkwood."

"Legolas knew this would happen. He tried to warn me, but I would not listen. I thought my authority and my word was enough to keep Thranduil at bay."

Glorfindel eyed his companion. "Why have you not bonded with Legolas? Do you not love him?"

"Of course I love him!" Elrond growled. "I am all too willing to bond with Legolas if he loves me, but he does not. I had hopes that, in time, Legolas might come to regard me with some affection. Obviously, Thranduil is unwilling to give him that time. It is my fault he once more finds himself in whatever black place Thranduil has thrown him."

"Then Legolas' imprisonment is indeed Thranduil's fault," Glorfindal concluded. "He's the one who isn't respecting your betrothal."

Elrond didn’t reply, his gaze raking across the gates closed tight and high against him.

"I know where your prince is being kept," Glorfindel offered.

"That's some small progress."

"But as I said, I can't get past the guard," Glofindel continued. "What is your plan of attack?"

"I will walk in and claim what is mine." A deep, calm fury was reflected openly in Elrond's austere face.

"Woe take any Elf who thinks to stand between the Lord of Imladris and his love," said Glorfindel. "But what is your plan?"

"But what is your plan?" Glorfindel demanded.

"I am going in the front door."

"Right down their throats?" Glorfindel worried his lip and nodded. "Suicidal but effective. I like it. I'll go with you."

* * *

The two Elf-lords exploded from the treeline at a gallop, riding abreast and pushing for Mirkwood's gates. Swords held aloft, they bellowed as if battle-crazed, which Glorfindel had every reason to suspect Elrond was. Running to the gates from every corner of Mirkwood, the guards assembled a line of defense, drew their weapons, and yelled a warning.

Elrond growled a command, and the horse beneath him surged forward. Glorfindel knew that gelding, knew him to have only only five summers under his hooves and green battle-training by none other than Glorfindel himself. Still, the gelding had a greater stride that the horse Glorfindel rode and so, left behind despite himself, Glorfindel watched in helpless disbelief as Elrond's horse carried himself and his rider ever closer to the band of elves who were sworn to defend, even if it meant destroying and Elf-lord. the Lord of Imladris.

Or two.

Shouting his own command, Glorfindel rode to catch up. Only a few yards away, the guard showed no signs of breaking as Elrond rode them down.

"Will you ride through them to your death?" Glorfindel yelled as Elrond lowered his sword and set himself in balance. "That will certainly help Legolas."

Leaning over his horse's neck, Elrond gave no answer but urged his companion to even greater speed. Surely the line will break, thought Glorfindel. Surely it will not, said the set faces of the guard.

Glorfindel sensed Elrond's command the moment it was given. Resisting the urge to close his eyes and avoid seeing his dearest friend impaled on Mirkwood spears and swords, Glorfindel watched helplessly as Elrond's mount gathered himself and leaped over the heads of the Mirkwood guard. Oh, Elbereth, he did it.

Having watched Elrond for far too long, Glorfindel was ill-prepared to execute the same move. Pulling up, he wheeled his gelding about and watched the guard falter. Should they go after the Lord of Imladris who was now clattering his way over the cobbles up to the keep's front door, or should they reform to confront the second Elf-lord who was riding back now to attempt the same move as his predecessor?

Glorfindel evidently did not look as deadly as the Elf-lord that had tried to trample them, so they turned their attentions back to Glorfindel and reformed their line. Setting himself, Glorfindel rode hard at them. Circling his sword slowly over his head, he bellowed a challenge in his native Gondolic - a tongue all but lost with Gondolin's fall, but still good for bloodcurdling curses whose meaning was clear in any language.

This is fun, thought the Elf-lord seconds before reaching the line of ashen-faced, shaking Elves who broke ranks at the last minute. Haven't had a good fight in at least an age. Scattering, they fell back as the waves of the sea parted on the shores of the Grey Havens for Cirdan's ships.

He caught up with Elrond just as the Elven lord kicked open the heavy wooden door to Thranduil's keep, caught the guard waiting beyond on the nose and sent him sprawling. There was muffled howling, followed by rather moist cursing as the guard tried to stem the flow of blood from his nose, which he seemed to find far more pressing than the intruder himself.

"I think you broke his nose," Glorfindel observed idly, slapping Elrond's cloak aside as it threatened to tangle Glorfindel in it.

A healer Elrond might have been, but he spared not a glance at his bleeding victim before heading for the next guard in line. Raising his sword, the Elf-lord growled, "I am Elrond, Lord of Imladrism, I mean you no harm. I have come to claim my prince, and you will let me pass."

Giving a slight bow and saluting, the guard fell back. Elrond stalked on.

I'd find it hard to believe he meant me no harm if he held that sword over me, Glorfindel decided. He grinned and nodded at the startled guard before following Elrond.

"I am Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower," he called over his shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Daeron. Please give Thranduil our regards, as I don't believe Elrond has a mind to pay him the courtesy of a personal visit. Hope you and yours are well."

"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel," Daeron said cheerfully. "Always a pleasure to have such honored guests in hall.

"Where are these dungeons?" Elrond bellowed ahead of him.

"Two more corridors, then turn left. No, not that corridor, THAT one. You're wanting that hallway, and mind the stairs, they're slick. The dungeons are below."

A lone guard was posted at the stairway. A wobbling sword was raised to block Elrond's path, the young Elf's face a mask of determination and fear. "My lord, I cannot allow--"

Elrond slapped the blade aside, loomed over the elf and glowered. "Get by."

Sliding up beside the Elf-lord, Glorfindel smiled. "Probably a good idea if you'd like keep all appendages. We'll tell everyone that you tried your best to stop us."

The Elf nodded nervous agreement to Glorfindel and backed hastily out of the way.

"Keys would be a nice afterthought," the Elf-lord mentioned, holding out his hand.

The retreating guard pitched something toward them before diving around a bend in the corridor, and a ring of keys came sliding across the stones to stop just inches before Glorfindel's boots. Snatching them up, he handed them to Elrond.

"I'll guard your back. Go get your prince."

Sheathing his sword, Elrond accepted the keys and took a torch from its wall sconce. The stairs were wet and slick, he took special care descending them. All below was black and silent, except for the steady, maddening drip of water on stone. Reaching the bottom of the steps, Elrond was confronted by a three-way intersection of tunnels. Cells appeared to line each one.

"Which cell, Glorfindel?" he shouted up the stairs.

"The one furthest from where you are standing, closest to the river."

Elrond took the right fork. The corridor was far too long and narrow for Elrond's liking, its air was dank and foul. Reaching the end at long last, Elrond surveyed the heavy door confronting him. The corridor had flooded in years past, so that silt and dirt and the Valar knew what else had settled against ancient stone and wood and iron. None of the other doors had been opened, but it looked like this one had., for thick waste had been shoved back recently along its hinge-track, and the keyhole of the original locking mechanism was rubbed cleaner than the rest of the door. A new level of wrath claimed Elrond as he eyed a shiny new lock gracing the crampon that held shut the door.

His sword sang, and the lock shattered. Swinging open the cell door, he held the torch high to peer into the gloom beyond. A quick sweep of the small area revealed it to be empty of his golden prince. But it was not completely empty, for a mound of rats occupied with a heap of offal at the far end of the cell scattered at Elrond's invasion, leaping in every direction and falling over themselves to evade him and his light. Some tumbled into the water rising up from the river, and the sound of their splashing made louder beneath the oppressive stone.

His heart sank to find the cell empty, but then the mound of refuse fetched up against the stone wall twitched. Stepping across the cell, Elrond bent down for a closer look. What he was not river trash, but a booted foot. The booted foot shifted ever so slightly while the owner of the boot moaned softly.

"Legolas?" Elrond's heart felt as though it had frozen in his chest. Forcing himself to breathe, he managed to move across the cell, if only to deny that this poor victim was... was anyone he knew.

Going down on one knee beside Thranduil's latest victim, Elrond wiped away some of the slime covering the Elf's face and saw by torchlight the tip of a delicately pointed ear, the remains of a golden braid above it. Sweeping the light downward, Elrond saw that Legolas lay with his arms wrapped tight about him, as if to ward off a blow. The tips of his fingers were shiny, dripping with what appeared to be fresh blood.

"You shouldn't have come," a weak voice rasped. "But you're not really here, so it doesn't matter." The bloodied fingers closed, and Legolas shuddered. "Don’t bite this time."

Elrond continued his visual inspection only to see that Legolas' clothes and boots were in tatters. Bloody scratches could be seen beneath what remained of the cloth. Dirt was ground into injuries that seemed to be older, while others were far too fresh and still clean.

"Valinor's light, you're being eaten alive."

Tossing aside the torch, Elrond slid his hands beneath Legolas and lifted him into his arms. His prince weighed far too little and offered no protest beyond a soft moan. Nestling Legolas close against his chest, Elrond left the cell and blessed the moon-moss growing on the dungeon walls. Luminescent, it offered a faint light by which the Elf-lord could trace his steps and locate the stairway leading up to the surface.

CHAPTER TWENTY

"We're collecting quite a group up here. It's about time you--" Glorfindel's cheerful tones rang out, only to cease abruptly when he caught sight of the filthy, bloodied shape in Elrond's arms. "Sweet Elbereth, what did they do to him? Please tell me he still lives."

"He was without light, warmth and food. There were also rats. Beyond that, I do not yet know."

Glorfindel led the way through the tangle of corridors and back into the main hall. The main door was in view when a cold voice rang out at Elrond's back.

"Peredhil!" a commanding voice rang out. "You invade my hall, strike down my guards and for what? What could possibly claim your interest here in Mirkwood? My treasure-house is well-guarded and quite in the opposite direction."

Turning, Elrond saw Thranduil standing some distance down the broad corridor. At his side stood a slender, thin-faced Elf that Elrond assumed was the Mirkwood king's eldest son. At least twenty well-armed guards ringed the two royals.

"I come to claim what is mine," Elrond ground out.

"I came to help him." Glorfindel stepped up to stand at the Elf-lord's side, his hand on his sword hilt.

Thranduil smiled. "Lord Glorfindel, I know that you have enjoyed the hospitality of my trees and the conversation of my people over the last weeks. We are friends, and I have no quarrel with you, just as Mirkwood has no alliance with Imladris." His blue eyes grew colder. "Half-Elf, the prisoner you are attempting to claim is a treasonous little brat who keeps his promises about as well as you do. He stays here in Mirkwood."

"The prisoner I claim is my betrothed mate whom you have kept locked in a dungeon cell without food or light, where you left him to become food for rats!"

The guards immediately surrounding Elrond began murmuring as Legolas' bloodied hands and other injuries drew their attention.

Elrond shoved Legolas' limp form against Glorfindel. "Hold him."

Startled, Glorfindel managed to awkwardly cradle the unconscious Elf as Elrond drew his sword and began striding toward Thranduil with deadly purpose.

"You seek my death, Half-Elf? More likely, you will find your own. Is he worth it?"

One of the guards lunged, but Elrond quickly disarmed his attacker to send him sprawling against the wall. Another and yet another were on him next, with the Elf-lord defending himself with cold, deliberate anger. He did not kill his attackers, but none cared to rise and challenge him again. As soon as his way was clear, Elrond stalked once more toward the king of Mirkwood.

"I command you to stop him!" Thranduil bellowed as the guards behind Elrond enclosed Glorfindel.

"Get by," he growled at the latest obstacle that leaped before him. Sword locked sword before Elrond struck the guard on his helmet and sent him spinning into the nearest stone column. The elf smashed head first against the granite and slid unconscious to the floor.

"Here now, what's this?" said Glorfindel from behind Elrond. "I can't exactly defend myself with an armful of prince, can I? If one of you would care to hold Legolas while I take care of your fellows--"

Elrond spared a glance behind to see how his friend was faring as other voices drowned out Glorfindel's protests. Glorfindel was well able to defend himself, and his abilities were legend. He'd killed a balrog: Thranduil's minions posed a miniscule threat. As yet, however, Elrond heard no swordsmacking or cries of agony.

"Carry on, don't mind us," Glorfindel called out, unseen for the crush of the crowd. "We're all fine back here. Yes, see that? That's where the rats got at him. Chewed the flesh clean off, it looks like. Down to the bone, you say? Oh, is that bone sticking out there? Yes, I think it might be. On the other hand, he's really too dirty to tell for certain, isn't he? Have a care there, the mud is making him rather slippery to hold."

The guards' voices strengthened around Glorfindel, and Elrond heard snatches of cursing. The murmurs rose only to fall into low growls and hisses of discontentment and disapproval. What the Elves were disapproving of, Elrond couldn't tell and didn't wait to find out. He kept moving toward Thranduil.

The murmuring spread like wildfire among the remaining guard. Within moments, the men surrounding Thranduil appeared to be deserting their king. Hurrying past Elrond without challenging him, they all seemed bent on reachig Glorfindel and his charge.

Raising a fisted hand, Thranduil bellowed, "Come back here!"

Glancing uneasily at his father, Thranduil's son stepped in front of his father as Elrond finally reached them. Drawing his sword, the slender Elf-prince tightened his grip and took a deep breath. Raising the sword before him, he met Elrond's gaze steadily. "Leave the traitor, and return to Imladris."

Elrond struck the broadsword so hard that it rang. The prince shuddered as the force of the blow traveled up his arms and throughout his frame. Blanching, he shifted his stance but did not move away from his father.

"Your brother is no traitor," Elrond said.

Thranduil sneered over his son's shoulder. "He failed to honor the treaty, you are unbonded, and he had to be returned to Mirkwood. If he is not a traitor, then what is he?"

"He is mine."

"You did not bond with him!" Thranduil bellowed. "As our agreement is forfeit, so is his life!"

Elrond towered over the younger Elf, stood nearly on his toes. "Put down your weapon and let me pass."

"You'll kill my father."

"Elves do not kill Elves."

The prince stared up at Elrond, his puzzled eyes the same light blue as Legolas'. "But my father the king--"

"Your father abandoned Legolas—my Legolas and your brother--to death beneath these stones. As for you, you will get out of my way. Now." Wrapping his strong fingers around the prince's wrist, Elrond applied pressure to a well-known nerve and shoved him aside.

Crying out, the prince let go the sword in order to brace his fall. Elrond caught the sword as the prince went sprawling, and Thranduil scrambled backward, eager to get away from the Elf-lord descending on him with two weapons in hand.

"I sent word to you that Legolas and I were betrothed," Elrond said conversationally, pursuing Thranduil down the corridor. "Did you not receive my message."

"Sauron-spawn, the both of you!"

"You gave us no time to come to know each other, much less to bond," Elrond continued, backing Thranduil against the nearest stone column. The tip of one sword found its way to rest against Thranduil's throat. The other pressed against his belly. "Whatever else you may wish to believe, Legolas is no traitor, neither by intent nor by behavior. We would have bonded in our own good time, as was communicated to you. If anyone here is guilty, it is you with your singular lack of patience, m'lord."

Thranduil's laugh was filled with scorn. "That one is neither good nor faithful, as you will one day discover, should he actually survive his days in my dungeon. I thought to keep him from harming either of us any further. But it seems that you, in your infinite wisdom, have other plans. Fine then, Half-Elven. Take him. Bed him and bond him to you if that is to your liking." Thranduil wheezed and coughed as the swordblade pressed harder against his throat. "May you have joy of each other."

Elrond stared at the glowering king for a long moment. With delicate deliberation, he guided the sharp point of the sword down Thranduil's neck. The Elf-king's blue eyes went wide and his hands flew up to touch his throat, only to find his fingers came away stained with blood.

"So," said the king, again and again exploring the injury that was bleeding enough to stain his robes but not nearly enough to kill him. "I have Mirkwood's treaty with Imladris which you have now sworn personally before all of these witnesses to uphold by bonding with Legolas, and you have drawn my blood. I do not intend to defend myself, Half-Elf. Either kill me or let me go."

"You would like me to kill you, would you not?" Elrond's voice was dangerous and low. "Yes, kill you so that you may travel to Mandos' halls and accuse me of murdering an unarmed Elven king. You would enjoy seeing cast out, and your son with me. That would solve your problems very nicely, would it not?"

"Such a thing never occurred to me." Thranduil's smile belied his denial.

"I have something quite different in mind," Elrond said with a dangerous calm. Reaching out, Elrond spun the shorter Elf about, locked his arm tight around Thranduil's neck, and began dragging him back down the corridor. Thranduili's guard fell back to allow the Elf-lord by. "You called Legolas a traitor. I say that as a father an as Mirkwood's king, you are no less a traitor."

"Your accusation is meaningless!" Thranduil choked, clawing at the long arm holding him in a vise grip.

Relentless, Elrond dragged the Elf toward the doorway leading down into the dungeons. "My accusation is as meaningless as the letters you sent to Imladris, signed in Legolas' name by your own hand. Admit your betrayal and deceit – admit that Legolas knew nothing of your plan to unite my people with yours through sacrificing him."

"He agreed--"

Having reached the stairs, Elrond shoved the Elf-king below. Thranduil stumbled at the top before falling, head over heels, down the slippery, moss-covered steps. Landing in a slime-covered heap at the bottom, Thranduil staggered painfully to his feet.

"Legolas agreed!" Thranduil panted. "He chose to journey to you in Imladris."

"He did," Elrond admitted, descending into the dungeons at a more sedate pace. Behind him came Thranduil's eldest son, creeping cautiously along lest Elrond's fury turn next to him. Following after the Mirkwood prince came other Elves, some bearing torches to light their way.

"Legolas chose to join me after you imprisoned him in utter darkness here for some weeks," Elrond reminded Thranduil.

"He was willful and disobedient to my command," Thranduil protested. "He needed a lesson, needed discipline." Thranduil stumbled backward, taking care to stay well out of Elrond's immediate reach.

"You commanded Legolas to bind himself to someone he did not know and did not love. You did this after deceiving me with letters and a proposal you claimed were his," Elrond pointed out. "The letters you sent to me expressing Legolas' willingness to bond with me contained nothing but lies."

"He came to agree with their substance, if not their sentiment," Thranduil sputtered. "I left the sentiment up to the two of you."

"You speak of sentiment when, as a father, you obviously feel nothing but contempt for your son?" Elrond backed Thranduil further down the dungeon corridor.

"Legolas has ever been a disobedient--"

"I have experienced disobedience in my own sons, which may well be reinterpreted as their desire to defend our lands and those they love the way they know best. Legolas' talents and desires parallel theirs. Mind your head--" Elrond ordered a moment before Thranduil cracked the back of his skull on a low-lying support beam. Thranduil began raining epithets down on Elrond's head as the ceiling rained down bits of dirt and moss, and Elrond gestured shortly. "Keep going."

"What is your intent, forcing me down into this disgusting place?" Thranduil shook the filth from his long blonde hair and glowered as best he could in the torchlight.

"My intent is that you understand fully the undeserved punishment you meted out to Legolas" Elrond said reasonably. "A loving father and king commands through affection and gentle persuasion. You also know that it is the right of every Elf to choose whoever he or she will as their eternal mate. As we rule and serve others, it is our sacred duty to govern and to guide with compassion and honor -- without deceit -- else we are no better than the wraiths who follow the Dark Lord."

"You brought me down here to lecture me. Wonderful." Thranduil grunted. "I don't mind listening or even debating your points, but surely we could do it in the comfort of my great hall? Over a goblet or two of that fine ale you sent us the other week?"

"That particular setting does not suit my plans for you, just as it did not suit you where Legolas is concerned. Honor and compassion, the love of a father for his son... I suspect that you have offered little of these things to Legolas. Is it any wonder he rebelled?"

"That is not your concern or his. I commanded him as king." Thranduil fetched up against a dirty iron door. With nowhere left to go, he watched with obvious apprehension while Elrond bore down on him. "The joining of Imladris with Mirkwood is necessary if my people are to survive."

"And there we have the simple truth," Elrond said wearily, resting a heavy hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "What prevented you from sending Legolas to me with that message? We would not have turned you or your people away. Instead, you created lies and set out to force Legolas to make a loveless bond, to punish us forever. To serve what, your endless pride?"

"To protect my people! By making this agreement between Imladris and Mirkwood one that could not be undone!"

"You seek to protect your people by destroying your son?"

Thranduil opened his mouth again as if to argue the point, only to stand staring up at Elrond as if the thought had never before occurred to him. "It was -- it was for the good of Mirkwood and her people that I--"

"You cornered Legolas, captured him, and ordered him. You imprisoned him when he refused to compromise his honor. You hurt him and hoped to break him. You used him as nothing more than property, something useful in your greedy machinations to grab some of Imladris' prosperity for your own."

"I did not force Legolas! He agreed to bond with you and went to Imladris of his own free will!"

Elrond's fingers dug into Thranduil's shoulder. "What choice did you leave him other than to bond with me or to die in the darkness that even now surrounds us? And what choice do you leave me this day?"

Hard fingers guided Mirkwood's king into the filthy, cramped cell that had so recently been vacated by Legolas. An unwilling Thranduil shuffled back into the middle of the small space only to stare incredulously as Elrond swung closed the door.

"You can't mean to leave me here!"

"I mean to do precisely that." Slamming the door, Elrond turned the rusty lock. Removing the key from its ring, he pocketed it. The heavy iron door muffled the outraged bellowing of the king locked behind it.

Thranduil's son dared approach the Lord of Imladris "My lord, there is but one key to that lock."

"Is that so?" He handed the prince the ring bereft of the key in question.

"I know that you would teach my father a lesson by locking him here as he did my brother. But I would ask that you leave the key in my care, so that when you have gone I might let him free."

"No." Turning, Elrond headed back to the surface, to retrieve the Elf he had come for.

"But my lord...There is no other way out for him."

"There was no way out for Legolas, either." Elrond spared but a glance at the pale Elf following on his heels. "Your father has one thing Legolas did not: servants willing to reach out to him from the other side."

"The... other side?"

"The river side of the cell."

"But there is darkness and rats! And it smells down there. We cannot even reach him to feed him, my father cannot bear this." The younger Elf subsided at the look Elrond gave him. "It will take us weeks to dam up that portion of the river, to drain it and to reach him, my lord."

"Then I suggest you get started."

Reaching the light of the hall, Elrond strode over to the corner where a group of Elven guards were huddled tight. Noting his approach, the Elves parted to reveal Glorfindel squatting on the floor with Legolas braced across his lap.

"Is everything in order?" asked Glorfindel as Elrond gathered Legolas to him.

"It is." Settling the far-too-slight weight in his arms, Elrond cradled the unconscious Elf close and headed for the front doors.

Guards leaped to open it for the little group, to usher them outside. Sweeping through the doorway, Elrond whistled to bring both his and Glorfindel's geldings trotting across the cobbles. Elven guards who had been trying to capture the rearing, biting war-horses scattered.

"Please take Legolas once more while I mount," Elrond ordered.

Keeping an eye on the Elven warriors creeping ever closer, Glorfindel did as he was asked.

"Legolas..." One of the Elves murmured, reaching out to touch the dirt-caked mane that had once been shining gold. The hand traveled on to trace bloodied clothing and rough, torn skin. The Elven warrior's eyes filled with tears. "Our king did this?"

"Yes." Mounting his horse, Elrond pulled the cloak from his shoulders and spread it across his lap. "Glorfindel, if you please?"

Legolas was handed up carefully, and Elrond bundled him into the cloak. Cradling the Elf tightly against his chest, Elrond walked his horse through the still, silent crowd of Elves.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"I know that you would put as much distance as possible between us and Thranduil, but the horses need to rest," Glorfindel reminded him as the mist lifted off and the rising sun slanted rainbowed beams of light through the trees.

"We are being followed."

"I know," Glorfindel said gently. "They will catch up to us eventually whether we rest or not. But likely they are just as weary as we are and will have to rest sometime as well. We can take the time."

Giving a sigh, Elrond led the way off of the main road. Gazing down at the precious bundle he had carried on his lap until his legs had gone numb, he pressed his lips to the dirty hair and whispered yet another prayer to Elbereth. The horses were secured while Elrond made a bed for Legolas next to the fire.

"I'm off in search of breakfast," Glorfindel announced, "and to ascertain how far behind are our pursuers."

"Take all care," Elrond murmured, holding Legolas in his lap.

"Here," said Glorfindel, handing down his own cloak. "Cover him with this as well."

"All my thanks." Tucking the thick material around his prince, Elrond spared not the slightest glance for Glorfindel.

Legolas stirred fitfully as the sun warmed his face for the first time in weeks. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a moment before blinking and clearing.

"Are you awake?" Elrond murmured. Taking a waterskin, he uncorked it. "If you are, can you drink some of this for me?"

Legolas's fingers brushed weakly against Elrond's wrist, trying to reach for the offered water.

"Not too much," Elrond warned, "or it will all come up again."

He managed a few sips before subsiding back against Elrond's arm.

"Are you a rat?" Legolas rasped.

"The rats are gone, and I am real," Elrond said gently, smoothing matted hair away from the high forehead. "We are away from Mirkwood and on our way home, Legolas. You are safe now."

"Safe." Legolas closed his eyes as if the effort to hold them open were too much. "There is no safe place. We are being followed."

"You need not worry about that. Rest now."

"Must worry! The trees say they follow!"

"Yes. I know," Elrond acknowledged. "I'm more worried about you. Can you drink a bit more for me?"

Legolas pushed away the skin. "We cannot linger." He struggled feebly, as if trying to roll over in preparation to gaining his feet.

Spreading a hand across Legolas's chest, Elrond held him down. "Be at peace, my prince. Glorfindel is with us and will sound the alarm should we have to leave quickly. Everything is well."

"Everything is not well." Legolas panted, the small struggle having entirely drained him. Shivering, he burrowed more deeply against Elrond. "You should not have come."

"You belong with me, Legolas. I could not stay away."

Legolas' raw, trembling fingertips touched Elrond's face as if to reassure himself the Elf-lord was solid. "When Thranduil imprisoned me the first time, I wanted nothing less than to go to Imladris. Now, I want nothing more. Please, Elrond. Take me home."

"I will. And no one will take you from me again."

He managed to coax a few more sips of water into Legolas before he drifted back into what was more unconsciousness than sleep. Glorfindel emerged from the trees, carrying the nuts and edible berries he had managed to find.

"Some of these will be for Legolas later today. How is he?"

"He was awake for a few minutes, but seems on the edge of delirium," Elrond revealed. "He has had a bit to drink, but it is far from the nourishment he needs." Tears filled Elrond's eyes as he continued, unconsciously rocking Legolas to him. "We are two weeks out from Imladris, Mirkwood's army is nearly upon us, and my prince is not well. He is dehydrated and starved, beaten by the very stone he was forced to live under."

Elrond ran his fingers down Legolas's arm, captured a hand whose fingers were curled tightly inward. "His poor fingers were food for those rats. I do not know the depth of their injuries, nor those covering the rest of his body. I cannot take the time to examine him right now. By the time I can, it may we be that he is dead. Glorfindel, have I brought him out of Thranduil's madness only to have him die in my arms? Would that we had bonded before he left Imladris, that I could lend him my own strength."

Glorfindel knelt beside him. "It's not too late to bond with him."

"Look at him, Glorfindel. It's far too late."

"The same threats pursue him as before. If you were to join with him, those threats would fade away. It is not too late for it to be of benefit to both of you."

Elrond stared at him. "What are you suggesting?"

"Only that it would solve many problems were the two of you to bond now."

"You would have me take him, wounded and unconscious and delirious? What, am I to have my way with him out here in the bushes? That, you feel, would solve all of our problems?

"Yes" Glorfindel replied firmly, unphased by Elrond's outrage. "The contract would be fulfilled. Problem solved."

"No!" Elrond growled, pulling Legolas hard against him as if Glorfindel himself presented a very real threat. Legolas gave a squeak of protest, one hand lifting inches from his chest to bat away an imaginary rat.

"If you bonded with him, Thranduil's army would stop following us," Glorfindel pointed out, his blue eyes more serious than Elrond could ever remember seeing them. "His father would stop trying to take him from you, and the precious alliance between Imladris and Mirkwood would be forged. You would be allowed to tend your prince at your leisure and thereby almost certainly safe his life."

"By destroying his eternity? No."

"You are a stubborn Elf."

"You already knew that."

Glorfindel sighed. "If that is your decision, then may I suggest that the horses have rested enough, and we should be off." Turning away, Glorfindel kicked dirt onto Elrond's small fire. Making certain it was out, he turned his attention to readying the horses for travel once more.

Elrond eyed his friend with all wariness, feeling a deep shock that the older Elf-lord would suggest such a bonding. Elrond pursued the debate once they were all ahorse and again on the road.

"The bonding you suggest would bring only misery when Legolas has recovered," Elrond ventured.

"You know best, of course." Glorfindel's eyes were fixed on the road ahead. "But at least he would have time to heal and recover, rather than being jostled to death on a horse."

Elrond fell silent after that, concentrating on the fading Elf in his arms rather than pursuing pointless conversation with his oldest friend.

* * *

"We should clear Mirkwood's borders by nightfall," Glorfindel observed as Elrond tried to rouse Legolas at mid-day, in a hopeless attempt to feed him some of the fare Glorfindel had managed to find. "If we ride on another hour after dark, we'll be well out of the army's territory. Perhaps they will turn back."

"Perhaps."

"Will Legolas last that long?"

Elrond handed back the mashed berries Glorfindel had prepared. Not one bit had found its way into Legolas. "He could die at any time, Glorfindel. And I am powerless to prevent it."

The warrior Elf watched silently as, again and again, Elrond combed his fingers through Legolas's filthy mane.

"Don't you leave me, too," Elrond murmured, seeming to forget he was not alone. "The world would be altogether too lonely a place without you in it."

The day droned on with the small group traveling as quickly as Elrond dared while accommodating both horses and Legolas. Glorfindel offered to carry Legolas some small way, to afford some relief to Elrond's tiring arms and numb legs, but the Elf-lord refused.

"You know, Mithrandir and I discovered a lovely little place while traveling," said Glorfindel. "A small, grassy clearing with a hot-spring feeding into a lake. Perfect place for us to camp tonight, and I'm sure I can find it again. I'll get us a rabbit and make a thin soup for Legolas. What do you say to that?"

"It's a grand plan," Elrond offered, all misery. "You know, I foresaw the cell I found him in? I thought it lay within Dol Goldur, that surely the wraiths would take him. But I was wrong, so terribly wrong. I saw it all -- the black cell, the rats running, and Legolas left for dead."

"That cell is behind you," said Glorfindel, laying a hand on Elrond's shoulder as he rode beside him. "Let it go, for your prince is with you now. Neither one of us shall surrender him to pain and death, either in this life or the next."

"Perhaps the kinder thing would be to let him go."

"Perhaps. But that is not a decision for either one of us to make. We must do what we can to save Legolas, to restore him to you so that you can both love each other long and well."

"He does not love me, Glorfindel."

"I think that he does. Do you remember what he answered, weeks ago now, when you asked him why he had risked his life to save your horses?"

"He said, 'I like horses.'" The memory brought a ghost of a smile.

"Exactly. I've spent some time with Legolas -- admittedly not as much as you have, but enough to see that he is not a complicated creature. He risked his life to save your horses because he likes horses. He stayed with you those weeks in Imladris because he likes you."

Much as Assassin would have done, Elrond rolled a disbelieving eye toward Glorfindel.

"Will you at least consider the possibility?" the older Elf-lord pressed.

"Not if it leads to where I think it may lead, which is straight back to the bushes and bonding for us. Give it up, Glorfindel."

"I cannot. Thranduil's own are but scant hours behind us, and I do not believe they will leave off once we cross Mirkwood's border, any more than Thranduil allowed Legolas's friends to avoid taking him on the wrong side of Mirkwood's border. We are powerful, Elrond, but not that powerful, and we are only two. We are also crippled in no small way by your obstinence and inability to define the love between you and Legolas in any way that embraces the physical. At least consider what I am saying, while we ride and tonight while Legolas takes his rest under the stars of Elbereth. Those stars may well be the last light he sees this side of Mandos' Halls."

* * *

The clearing was every bit as lovely in the moonlight as Glorfindel remembered it, regardless its beauty was entirely lost on Elrond. Heading off once more with bow and arrow, the Elf-lord made short work of flushing out and shooting a rabbit. The broth for Legolas was prepared in no time, but Glorfindel found himself eating the rabbit alone, for Elrond was interested in nothing but coaxing some broth into Legolas. The semi-conscious Elf cooperated as best he could, clinging with raw fingers to Elrond only to hiss and draw back as the mangled mess the rats had created sent shards of pain shooting through his hands.

Over and over again, Legolas tried to drink, only to be distracted by his pain until total unconsciousness claimed him. Setting aside the skin full of broth, Elrond looked across the fire at Glorfindel in total helplessness.

"I am losing him."

Giving a deep sigh, Glorfindel gained his feet and gathered his weapons. "I'm going to see how much time we have until Thranduil's warriors reach us. In case you have need of it, the hot-spring lies just over there. Legolas might rest better if he were cleaner and free of the dungeon stink."

Glorfindel paced away without looking back.

* * *

The moon shown down, bathing all it touched in a soothing blue light. Lying in Elrond's arms, his long lashes shadowing his cheeks, Legolas looked as if carved from marble. His breathing grew more shallow as the moments passed.

"I cannot simply watch you die," Elrond whispered, stroking the smooth skin with the back of his hand. "And yet... what am I to do with you? Do I watch you die, or perhaps cause it myself?"

At the very least, Glorfindel's observations on the comfort of warmth and cleansing had merit, and with a sigh Elrond gathered Legolas' limp form more securely in his arms and rose. Carrying the Elf to the edge of the spring was easy enough. Dipping a hand into the water, Elrond found it neither warm enough to scald his prince or cold enough to send him further into shock. Peeling away the clothing that was little more than rags, Elrond wept anew to see the biting and bruising on the porcelain skin. Gathering Legolas close once more, Elrond blinked away the tears to see clearly where he was entering the pool.

Handful after handful of warm water caressed and cleansed Legolas, who remained still and oblivious to Elrond's ministrations. Whatever miracle of awakening and healing Elrond prayed for, it did not happen while they were in the pool.

"So you've changed your mind?" Glorfindel's voice intruded halfway through Legolas's bath.

A stream of Elven curses met the question, with Elrond snatching Legolas close, away from prying eyes before glowering up at the Elf-lord. "What are you doing back here? What news do you bring?"

"Legolas is finely made, isn't he? Beautiful. Do you realize that you left your sword back by the fire?" Glorfindel let some of the old mocking cheerfulness creep into his tones. "What if I had been the enemy?"

"Glorfindel, at this point in time, I daresay you might be. And I could cheerfully kill any intruder with my bare hands. Go away."

"Thranduil's army is nearly upon us. Just thought you'd like to know, and there's nowhere for us to go. My bow is ready, my arrows are at Legolas' service. You might wish to retrieve your sword and make a good showing of it before we're demolished."

"Do you mind?"

"It was only a suggestion." He nodded complacently. "Or I can defend our camp by myself. Not unreasonable odds, that – one Mirkwood army against one elven warrior. I almost feel sorry for them. But do carry on, Elrond. I'll go defend."

The Elf-lord disappeared behind the thick vegetation surrounding the pool. Holding his breath, Elrond also held Legolas and listened for the sound of Glorfindel's retreating steps. Reassured by what he heard - as well as by what he did not hear in the next few minutes - Elrond finished bathing Legolas, only to lean back in the water and contemplate the situation.

"If you could hear me, what would you choose, my love: life with me or freedom in death? I wish that I knew." Elrond traced the fine eyebrows, the narrow nose with a finger. Bending, he let his lips touch as well. "You must know that I love you, Legolas. You are young, life is a kingdom waiting for you. With me, would you not also have freedom as well? And would I not be happy, merely to see you each day?"

His fingers cupped a fine-pointed ear, dwarfed by the size of Elrond's hand. His fingers trailed down Legolas's throat, smoothed across the chest that rose and fell ever more shallow.

"My prince, my Legolas," he whispered. Pulling the lithe body ever closer, Elrond whispered into the ear he had only just caressed. "One day, I may see forgiveness in your eyes for what I am about to do to you, but I doubt it. I may be damned for all time and eternity, but I cannot bear to lose you."

With tears falling like silver jewels into the warm pool, Elrond set about loving Legolas. With reverent hands and lips he worshipped, drawing a despairing response from his own body and one from Legolas as well. Bending over his lover, Elrond took Legolas as gently as he could. A new bond sparked and exploded between them, only to subside into a steady pulsing inside his own mind. Warm water cradled Elrond as he cradled his bonded mate.

"You are forever free now of your father and his threats," he whispered into a delicate ear, pressing his cheek against his prince. "You will no doubt hate me as I hate myself, but you are free."

* * *

"We mean you no harm," said the she-elf leading the army of Mirkwood as no few of its members surrounded Glorfindel. "Those you see here have known Legolas since he was a babe, and we love him. We know you as a friend as well, and Elrond is not our enemy no matter what tales Thranduil may spin."

Still Glorfindel refused to stand down: twin blades were held at the ready. It was forbidden that Elf-kind should slay Elf-kind, but if that was what it took to defend the Lord of Imladris and his prince, Glorfindel would do so. "What are your intentions this night?"

"Thranduil ordered us to bring back Legolas," another Elf spoke, lowering his bow and stepping forward to speak more closely with Glorfindel. "But each of us has seen or heard of the harm our king has caused him. Legolas, Thranduil said, has committed crimes against Mirkwood. We say that the crimes visited upon a younger son by his father are far greater. Thranduil may say whatever he pleases, but we…many of us saw the truth with our own eyes. Those who have not believe the horrified witness of others who have."

Another Elf spoke. "I am one who saw Legolas." He held out a small leather pouch. "Lord Elrond will need these."

"What are they?"

"Herbs, salves and oils to help heal our prince. I saw his wounds and fear their extent. Please allow us to help. Elrond will know what is to be done with what we give him."

Glorfindel took the pouch, trying not to snatch in his eagerness.

"We brought also these clothes, to replace those damaged these weeks." Another satchel was passed to Glorfindel. "Please, won't you stop running? Stop risking Legolas' life for fear of losing him?"

Glorfindel eyed the Elf before him. "You're a healer, aren't you?"

The Elf nodded earnestly. "I tended our prince's birth, I would not harm him for all of Arda."

"The army surrounding you means you no harm," the she-elf interrupted, "for you travel with the Lord of Imladris who did what none of us dared: he brought Legolas out into the light and claimed him within our sight. This patrol would petition your lord to admit two- thirds of Thranduil's army to his lands – not to fight Imladris but to settle there and serve Prince Legolas. To live in peace and never return to Thranduil."

"Our mates and our children travel behind us," said the healer. "They creep through the wood and wait for permission to join you on your journey back to Imladris. We could not leave them in Mirkwood, so great is our fear of Thranduil's wrath. But we love our prince and would help you protect him. That is our intent, nothing more and nothing less, to keep safe those we love."

Staring at each of the Elves in their turn, Glorfindel could sense no duplicity. All were woodland Elves, wilder and less peaceful than their Sindarin counterparts, more dangerous in battle and yet more loyal and capable, Glorfindel suspected, than any of Thranduil's inner minion. And their loyalty, it seemed, lay with Legolas.

What am I to do with this? he wondered. "I thank you for your honesty, and your loyalty to Legolas. Wait here for a moment, please."

* * *

A stunned Glorfindel made his way back to the clearing. Elrond was there, dry and clothed once more and tending the fire. Legolas lay close by, his face even paler without the coating of grime, and his hair shining damply in the firelight. His chest rose and fell more deeply and evenly than before, or so it seemed to Glorfindel.

Elrond turned to greet Glorfindel the moment he sensed his approach. Elrond's sword, Glorfindel noted, was close at hand, though still in its sheath. The warrior's keen gaze swept over the Lord of Imladris.

"You bonded with him." It was not a question.

"Legolas is mine now." Elrond's eyes held a sadness that Glorfindel could not hope to fathom. "He regained consciousness a few moments ago, drank all of your broth, and now he sleeps."

"That is an improvement, certainly." Gorfindel could not keep his smile away, though Elrond only glowered at him in answer.

"What news do you bring of Mirkwood's army?"

"They send gifts." Glorfindel held out the pouches he had been given. "The smaller contains healing things, the larger contains clothes."

"Gifts? Why would they bring gifts?" Elrond looked at his friend in confusion. "Healing supplies?" he demanded, reaching up to pull them from Glorfindel's fingers. "Let me see."

"It would seem that I misjudged Mirkwood's army: they have come not to fight and return Legolas to his father, but to join us."

"Join us?" Elrond echoed absentmindedly, tearing into the smaller pouch.

"They seek permission to journey with us to Imladris. To stay."

"Of course they can stay," Elrond murmured absently, sorting through the things he'd been given. "Glorfindel, this is wonderful. Legolas's wounds are clean now, and I can wrap them with what's provided here. This is exactly what's needed, he can begin to heal." The gray eyes were full of joy now, in equal measure to the sorrow Glorfindel had glimpsed only a moment before.

"Elrond..." He followed the Elf-lord around the fire, to Legolas's side. "Were you listening to me? Do you not understand?"

"Of course I understand. Look at his poor hands, at his fingers where the rats gnawed. The wounds are down to the bone here, and I had feared gross infection. Yet his other hand - the hand bearing the seal of my house? - that hand is uninjured. How he managed to keep it safe from them I shall never know. He has other injuries--"

"Elrond--"

"--How could he not have other injuries? I burned his boots, they were ruined. Did they give you new boots for him? The rats chewed those as well, and his toes are in worse shape than his hands. They will take some time to heal, but we have time now."

"Elrond, you must know that I failed you," Glorfindel protested. "You need not have bonded with Legolas because Mirkwood's army--"

"A portion of Mirkwood's army is asking to return to Imladris with us, yes?"

"Yes."

"That means a portion of Thranduil's guard is still loyal to Thranduil, who would never relinquish control of Legolas, were he and I not bonded. They would come against Legolas at the earliest opportunity, which is removed now. Do you not see the truth of your own advice, my friend? No matter. You must help me with these bandages. No wonder Legolas seeks not to be conscious, the agony of these raw nerve endings must be intolerable to him. But he has something warm in his stomach now, and he is sleeping rather than fading, and I can help him now. This is the miracle I needed, Glorfindel - this, and these oils you have brought to me."

"Elrond, could you give me your full attention for just a moment?" Glorfindel snapped. "What am I to tell those from Mirkwood? They wait for your answer."

"Tell them that they are welcome, of course. Imladris turns no one away, most certainly not Elves seeking sanctuary. And we will need them on this journey. They care for Legolas, there are other dangers lurking about, and we will need their help to see him safely home." Elrond continued to lay out the healing supplies within easy, orderly reach of his patient, the spared Glorfindel a glance over his shoulder. "Well? Go tell them and get back here. We've a lot of bandaging to do."

Glorfindel managed a nod before turning to head back to the waiting elves with his head still spinning from the startling turn of events. But in his heart burgeoned a hope that had been impossible only a few minutes earlier. Legolas had a chance now, Elrond had said, and that was all that really mattered.

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