CHAPTER SIX

The further away from Mirkwood we got, the more relaxed Legolas seemed to become. And the more tense I became. I wanted down these riding paths and through the woods and safe-home to Rivendell as quickly as possible. While, through my magic and Glamdring, I could defend against any arachnid or orc threat, I didn't wish to imperil Legolas. His life and peace of mind were precious to me now; it wouldn't do to introduce him to the dangers sweeping into his father's lands. Not until he was a bit taller, anyway.

Carefully gathering my power, I spun an invisible shield of protection around our little group. I'd slept little the night before and such warding devoured more energy than I cared to admit to, but for the duration of our journey inside my magic circle, we'd be all but invisible to prying, dangerous eyes. And the little elf riding so boldly before me with his fingers tangled in the mare's mane would be safe.

The day continued bright and clear, with us making good time down the road. If I knew Thranduil -- and I thought I had learned quite enough of his moods and tolerances over the past few days -- he wouldn't realize that his son was truly gone until he bellowed for his small victim that night. Hopefully, he'd not send his guard out after us until the morrow at the earliest, perhaps two or three days if Galion was cooperatively silent about matters.

My hat shaded the worst of the sun from my elf's delicate skin. He rode bravely and happily for a time, looking in all directions in an attempt to see everything we passed, until his young muscles tired of riding. A sigh escaped him then as he relaxed further, and I subtly took control of the horse. She canted her ears back in acknowledgment of the slight tensing of my knees, but did not alter her pace.

I suspected that the novelty of the adventure and the new sights from the road were wearing thin on Legolas’s small mind. Not only that, his stomach had to be empty, for the bit of bread and honey that had served as breakfast had been swift and light and many hours ago.

Reaching back and down, I rummaged through one of the saddle bags provided by Legolas's friends. Twisting around, he watched me work. Bringing forth two small sweetloafs and a bit of cheese, I plopped them in his lap.

"Hold these, if you will."

His small hands gathered the items in, cradling them carefully against his tunic.

"We'll not be stopping while we eat," I told him. "Rivendell is a two-day journey if we dismount only to tend to necessities and sleep." My hand found a waterskin. I dared to brush my other hand over his dirty mop as it caught in my beard. His hair was unusual now that I saw it in the sunlight; it was dark but with silver highlights that caught leaf-broken sunlight. "Are you thirsty, little leaf?"

I offered the skin; in return, he offered me my loaf and the cheese.

"Here, now. Lean back against me while I divide up our wares."

He did so and drank, though he managed to pour a fair bit of water down my leg as he learned the tricky skill of drinking from a waterskin designed for larger hands. Retrieving my knife, I wrapped my arms around him and whittled away at the cheese. Opening my palm, I offered him the shavings; his small fingers slid calmly over my callused palm to gather them up and nibble on them.

I smiled to myself; how far he'd come since only the night before, to take food from me so easily. He was, as Thranduil had said, all eyes and silence. I found the silence companionable, and a comfortable companion to have on such a journey. Putting away my knife, I laid my hand on his narrow shoulder.

"I’m glad that we met, Legolas. And I'm glad to have you along today."

He cast a look over his shoulder, first at my hand, which covered almost a quarter of his small body, and then back up at me. One eye peered at me in solemn consideration from between his bangs before he nodded, just as solemnly.

I took that as agreement. Unwrapping the bread, I began humming when Legolas leaned back against me. Our luncheon was finished and the day moved on with our only companions the lazy drone of insects and the quiet sound of the horses’ hooves on the hard-packed earth. My charge nodded off in sleep, and I slipped a hand across his middle, the better to anchor him so that he did not slide off of the horse. I wasn’t entirely confident with this arrangement, however. And so, giving a sigh, I slid a hand beneath his bottom and shifted him around so that I could cradle him in my arms. He stirred and struggled at my touch, one hand locking in my sleeve and the other flailing in the empty air over the mare’s neck until his eyes opened and he recognized me.

"Be calm, little leaf. All is well," I murmured as he sagged back into my arms. "I thought only to make you a bit more comfortable."

A few more gasping breaths and his breathing began to slow, his panic fading away as sleep crept up to reclaim him. His eyes closed again, while his fingers tangled once more in my beard. This was new, and a precious trust indeed. Cradling him against me, I took out my pipe, blew on it to light it, and watched my elf sleep.

He was a small armful, far too light a weight for as old as he was. His arms and legs were too skinny as well, but there was a wiry strength in them to match the wiry strength of his mind and very soul. I needed no special power to know that I was holding someone special. Someone who would thrive in the House of Elrond, where books and learning, music and laughter and peace would surround him.

But first, we had to get there.

~ ~ ~

Mithrandir always smelled of the earth and sky and a certain scent that was all his own. When he cradled me against him on our journey from Mirkwood, his beard tickled my nose and I breathed him in. Already, I had come to think of that scent as meaning security and safety. And something else. Something that was perhaps happiness, though I'd never known such a thing before.

He wasn't nearly so frightening now as he had been when I’d first seen him in father’s keep. His voice was no longer gruff to my ears, but deep and rumbly and caring. His hands were large and gentle on me, careful of the places on my body that still hurt. Had always hurt, it seemed. His eyes were kind, and even when he was growling he never really felt angry. Not yet, anyway.

I was glad that I'd decided to come with him. My stomach was full, the road was warm, and it seemed that life could be no better than it was at that moment. I wanted to see where we were going, for I'd heard stories of the murky shadows that lived in our wood, of spiders and wolves. Nasty shadows that could take form and make elves bleed. I wondered if the Mithrandir knew that. He seemed very wise to me, and I could sense nothing watching us from the underbrush, so I decided that he must have known how to keep the shadows away. If he could chase away Galion, shadows couldn’t possibly stand against him.

I liked being held by him. No one had ever just held me before, not without hitting me after. I'd gotten some brief hugs, but not many, from Theriel when others hadn't been looking, but this holding was an entirely different thing. Mithrandir held me against his heart, so that I could hear its slow tha-thump against my ear if I pressed close, and when he spoke his voice rumbled deep inside his chest. He began breathing fire again, as he had last night, but I decided that the smoke smelled nice, a bit like him. And he hummed. There were no words at first; the words came later, and I kept my eyes closed to listen. If he had known that I was awake, he might have stopped humming. He might even stop holding me, and I wanted this moment to go on forever.

I must have slept, for it was dark when I opened my eyes and sat up to discover that we had stopped moving. I scrubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling strange and disoriented.

"We'll camp here for the night, little leaf." Mithrandir spoke quietly, as if not to disturb the night.

I sat up on his thigh and stared down at the ground. It glowed in the moonlight, just as it did in our forest back home. Gathering myself, I started to jump down. A broad hand around my middle stopped me just as I launched myself forward.

"Here now, that's no way to do it. Let me give you a safe hand down."

"Hurts," I gasped, clutching at his fingers wrapped around my waist and trying to draw away. Mithrandir had only meant to catch me, but his big hand pressed firmly against my bruises, and I couldn’t stop my response. My middle always hurt. I braced myself for the sick feeling in my stomach that always followed the shooting pain.

Mithrandir’s fingers were warm on my middle. Instead of feeling sick, I felt a warmth spread through me.

"Hmm, yes.... Of course it must hurt and just there. I'm sorry, little leaf. I was careless. I won't forget again. Here now, can you move up against her withers and wait a moment while I dismount?"

"Yeth."

He lifted me carefully and set me astride the base of her neck almost, and I clung to my mare’s mane, wobbling on my thin perch while Mithrandir slid off behind me. And then his hands were around my middle again, and he was settling me gently on the ground.

"If you'll gather a few sticks -- only a few, we don't need many -- we shall have a fire and a hot meal."

I nodded, eager to please this gentle giant who was my new friend. No one had ever spoken to me as he did, as if I were already an elf grown, ready to sit at my father's table.

"Don't go far."

His voice seemed carried by the very wind as I started off into the shadows. Mithrandir set off in a different direction, toward the edge of a small grove of trees, skirted by brambles. Yes, that was good, I decided. He knew about setting our backs against the brambles, so that nothing could come up on us without us knowing. That was important; things had always gone wrong when I couldn't see Galion or my father coming for me.

I listened to the dark for anything that didn't belong in the woods, just in case. I could sense the night-birds and small animals, the same as back in Mirkwood, but nothing scarier. Even they sounded at peace tonight, as though they didn’t mind our being here. I grabbed the biggest sticks I could carry and quickly trotted back to Mithrandir. He was busy rummaging around in our bags and was singing softly to himself again. I knew the words to this song now, and I mouthed them along with him, but I didn't dare let the sound escape. I liked listening to him more than I liked singing.

He didn’t seem to notice that I was back, so I dropped my sticks and cast about for stones. They were easy to find, and I quickly drew together a ring of stones that glowed in the moonlight. Piling my small offering of wood within it, I waited nearby until Mithrandir turned and noticed.

He smiled at me, surprised and pleased, and it made me feel warm inside to have done something right. "That’s a fine fire ring."

Kneeling beside me, he muttered a few words that I didn’t understand and gestured across the ring. My wood burst into flame, and I leaped back in surprise. I didn’t know anyone else who could make a fire just by waving their hand. Mithrandir could breath fire and make fire by pointing at things? I realized then that wizards weren’t elves, and they weren’t men. I thought maybe wizards were fire beings of some sort. He smiled at me, as though having fire jump up from the ground like that was perfectly ordinary, so I tried hard to pretend it was something I’d seen many times before, even though it wasn’t and my heart still pounded in surprise.

In only a few minutes, he’d warmed our dinner over the fire. There was more bread and cheese, milk for me and wine for him. It was nice of him to warm the cheese so it was softer. It was hard to bite things now my teeth were gone. He noticed that, too.

"When did you lose your teeth?"

I was afraid he’d ask that. I felt so ashamed of having lost them. I shrugged and stared at the fire.

"Was it just recently?

I nodded, then felt the need to confess my guilt to him. He probably already knew anyway. "Broke ‘em."

His eyebrows rose high, but he didn’t look angry with me for my carelessness. In fact, he looked like he wanted to laugh.

"I sthole an apple an’… an’ they sthuck innit an’ came off."

He did laugh then, a soft and growly and rumbly sound, not upset at all. I stared across the fire at him. Why was this funny?

"Little leaf, they’re * supposed * to come out."

He was laughing at me. I didn’t like it. I’m not stupid, and nobody else I knew had teeth come off like that.

"No, they’re not," I argued.

"Yes, they are. All little boys’ teeth come out and new ones will grow in their place. It’s a sign that you’re growing up."

"Everybody elth hath teeth." I was talking too much, but I didn’t care. He was laughing at me.

"That’s because they grew back in," Mithrandir explained. "If you feel right there, where they came out, I’ll bet that you can feel the new ones just under the skin. Is there something hard there?"

I poked at the gap hesitantly with my tongue and stopped, startled. There was something hard there. It hurt to press on it, but it felt good at the same time. I put my finger there to rub at it and to get a better feel of this strange thing.

"I thought so," my wizard said. "You’ll have new teeth in just a few weeks."

Mithrandir had made so many miracles in just one turn of the sun, and now he’d even managed to give me back my teeth. I just stared, overwhelmed.

He continued, "The rest will fall out too, and—"

"ALL of them? ALL my teefs?!"

He laughed again. "One at a time, little leaf, just as nature intended. You’re growing up just fine."

I wasn’t too sure about that, but at least the front ones would come back. He left me exploring my changing mouth while he put away our things in the saddle packs and secured the fire. Afterward, he came around the fire and wrapped me up in his cloak and we looked at the stars. He told me things about them, but I was so sleepy I didn’t remember what he said. I remember him shifting down on the hard earth and lying flat so that I was spread out over him. He was warmer than any bedding and softer than any tree I’d rested in. His arms lay heavy across my back, but I’d never felt so safe in my life.

I awoke once in the night, confused by the rumbling beneath my head and panicked to think he’d been injured in some way. But I remembered the sound from the night before, as I’d been held safe in his arms in the chair before the fire: he was snoring again. In only a few minutes, I decided that his snoring felt safe, too, and fell back to sleep.

~~~

I awoke in the chill morning air, with rain pelting my face and the front of my robes already wet. As for Legolas, he was nowhere to be seen. Fear gripped my heart as I climbed to my feet, sweeping the area for some sign of him. It was a hopeless effort, for the mist had rolled in to obscure everything in a heavy gray fog that made visibility impossible.

"Legolas!" I called into the mist as I gathered staff and sword, preparing for the worst. He didn’t answer me, though it was foolish of me to think he would. I could sense no sign of him.

"LEGOLAS!" I called, a bit louder. Muttering beneath my breath, I paced in a circle, wishing I knew what direction to search in first. Wishing to the gods themselves that I’d had the foresight to warn him not to stray from my protective circle, wishing that I’d awoken before him.

Whirling once more, I nearly ran over him as he was standing behind me, his eyes gone wide with dread. Shivering in the rain, he folded his arms around himself and stared up at me, blinking as rivulets ran into his eyes.

Kneeling, I grasped him by the shoulders. "You mustn’t wander off. It’s not safe."

If anything, he shivered harder. He tried to pull away from my hands, and I closed my fingers to hold him in place, dismayed that my shouting had rekindled his distrust.

"I didn’t mean to frighten you."

What was strange was that he didn’t appear frightened. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and slid his hands down before him, but he didn’t look afraid. If anything, he looked… desperate. He shook his head and tried again to free himself from my grasp.

"What’s wrong?"

He all but danced in front of me, his hands covering his crotch before whispering, "Hafta pee…."

So that was where he’d gone? Closing my eyes at my own stupidity, I turned him about and pushed gently. "Go then, little one. But not so far that the mist swallows you up."

He trotted a few steps forward before I called him back.

"No further than that, Legolas. Not in this mist."

He obediently halted and messed about with his leggings, then cast a displeased look over his shoulder. I could read his expression plainly: Are you going to watch me?

I was, indeed. I wasn’t about to let him out of my sight again, not in this forest.

"No further," I cautioned firmly.

Elven modesty and privacy were violated and he wrinkled his nose at me, but he obeyed. A cold rain began falling in earnest. The outer layer of my cloak was already soaked, and we had another day and half a night of riding to do. Legolas was fairing less well than was I, for his clothing was thin, not at all resistant to the elements, and we had nothing at hand to replace it. He returned to me quickly, with his teeth chattering and his lips turning blue. Swirling my cloak about his small shoulders, I set about preparing the horses for our journey. In a matter of minutes, I’d retrieved more bread and milk for our breakfast on horseback, scooped him onto the horse, and climbed up behind him. Retrieving my cloak, I wrapped it around all of us, letting the animal’s body heat warm my charge from beneath and wrapping him closer under the folds of my robes.

At last his opinionated mare saw the value in traveling with some speed, and she willingly struck a fair pace this morning, evidently trusting that shelter and feed would be waiting at the far end of this journey. I applauded her logic, for I shared it myself. Hunching against the steady fall of the rain, we pushed on toward Imladris.

CHAPTER SEVEN

There was noise in the hall below, the sound of unexpected arrival of guests as members of my household staff moved about hurriedly, voices calling out in that peculiar tone of one trying to be heard but still muted. If their effort was to keep from disturbing the whole of Rivendell, their efforts were appreciated, but most unsatisfactory. I rose from my rest to make my way out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard, hoping to see what was causing the disturbance. Torchlight blazed into being, casting flickering shadows over a weary horse -- no, two horses; an old mare and a tall reachy gelding that I recognized as belonging to Mithrandir -- standing miserably in the rain. The wizard himself was moving toward the entryway with his cloak folded tightly about himself, his hat tipped forward to allow the rain to run off, and his head bent low against the weather.

[Mithrandir, flying back here? But he's only just left,] I pondered. [He's barely had time to reach Mirkwood and come straight back here.]

Alarm streaked through my mind at that thought, as the wizard had gone to investigate the growing evils in Mirkwood. What report could send him flying back in the darkness?

Grabbing for a robe at hand, I hastily shrugged into it, intent on meeting him in my library as quickly as possible, but the sound of heavy boots treading up the stairway and down my private corridor stopped me before I could leave my chambers. Evidently the messenger was coming to me. Circling the room, I lit a few candles and had the room brightly illuminated by the time Mithrandir stepped through the archway.

"Lord Elrond," he greeted me soberly -- and formally, I noted. His hat still dripped rainwater down onto his beard while dirtied water collected around his boots.

"Mithrandir," I replied with equal gravity. "What news brings you to our door in such haste? Is the enemy abroad again this storm-tossed night?"

"No, Lord Elrond. This is a personal matter. I come to petition you for sanctuary."

His words set my heart pounding. If the Istari felt the need for protection, we were all of us in peril. "Sanctuary? What enemy flies at your heels that you feel the need for protection?"

"Not so fearsome an enemy for me, but it is not for myself that I ask. It is for this one." He wizard opened his soggy cloak to reveal a small, disheveled child curled tightly against his chest. An elven child. Children come but seldom to elves, and each is cherished by its family and by the entire community. But clearly this one was not.

"And who is this?"

"This is Legolas," he advised me, his tone light and gentle, obviously not for my benefit. "Could you greet Lord Elrond, little leaf?"

The child's shivering increased and he burrowed beneath the beard. No, he wasn’t shivering, I realized. He was trembling, presumably out of fear.

"How did you come by this child?" It was not the question I had intended to ask, but it somehow inserted itself in front of the other questions I thought more pressing.

Sighing, Mithrandir unwrapped an arm from about the thin child and ran a comforting hand over his wet hair. "A gift from his father. I won him as a gambling debt."

Shock did not begin to cover what I felt at that reply. A startled gasp from the archway to the sleeping chamber echoed my own reaction. It was Arwen, who was never far from any activity in Rivendell. My dear daughter would not take this tale well, I knew.

"And who might is father be?"

Hesitation. Anxiety. This from a wizard who had enough courage to go calling, uninvited, Dol Goldur? What enemy did this child bring with him?

"Legolas is the youngest son of King Thranduil," Mithrandir finally, reluctantly answered.

Thunder rolled outside, no less than the thunder crashing in my brain at this news.

"Thranduil has not been on speaking terms with anyone since the battle on the slopes of Orodruin," I informed the wizard. "Not with Imadris or Lothlorien. Such communications as is demanded between our realms is conducted under cold formality. Harboring the abducted child of my rival is not going to foster peace between us, Mithrandir. The answer to your request is as obvious as it is tragic: Legolas cannot stay here."

I could feel Mithrandir's misery clearly as his eyes closed against my words. "I understand. May we at least stay the night? He is exhausted and cold."

"Of course you're staying."

My headstrong daughter swept into action, interrupting all diplomatic efforts on my part. What were the relations between realms and a potential war to a female bent on aiding a frightened child?

"The two of you can argue all you like," came the soft but firm rebuke as Arwen headed for the little elf in Mithrandir's arms, "but this little one needs to be dry and warm, and he could definitely use some food. Are you hungry, Legolas?"

He turned his face away, hiding in Mithrandir's hair. To my surprise, the wizard set the boy on the floor, one hand gently stroking the dark hair as he stooped down beside him.

"This is the Lady Arwen, Legolas. She is a lovely, gentle lady, and she likes little boys."

The child leaned back against him and regarded my daughter with careful scrutiny, as though judging a potential enemy.

[Gentle… likes little boys? A strange thing to emphasize,] I thought. [What is the story here that we not know?]

"Arwen?" I addressed my daughter. "Perhaps you could take our young friend into the next room to get him dried off a bit?"

"And we'll find him some dry clothes as well as something warm to eat." She smiled warmly and reached out to take his hand, but the lad only backed away.

"Just in the next room, little leaf," Mithrandir rumbled. "I'll be right here. You can hear me talking if you listen. Go get dried off. If there's extras, bring me a bit of cheese, hmmm?"

A gentle push got the child moving forward, though he carefully avoided getting close enough to Arwen for touch him and refused to meet her eyes. Mithrandir straightened, and we both watched them until they were clear of the room.

"Elrond, the child needs help," the wizard began again, low and urgent. "His father is an abusive sot."

"It matters not what he is. You do not have rights to hold that child, nor do I have rights to harbor him from his father. You know as soon as Thranduil has slept off the wine he will be asking for his son's return, and I cannot hold him here."

"Thranduil gave the child to me in front of witnesses," Mithrander hissed, his blue eyes gone dangerously dark. "He is my little elf now."

"A king cannot simply give away an heir that way, and you know it," I replied no less heatedly. "He is Thranduil's son, and Thranduil's son he will remain. I will not put our realms at conflict because you've decided the child isn't being cared for properly."

"It's more than neglect, and you could see that if you'd take half a moment to look at him before making your decision. I couldn't leave him there another night, not after what I'd seen."

"I wish I could help you, Mithrandir. It is not easy for my heart to turn away a child in need, but--"

A shriek ended our conversation -- the brief, high-pitched, panicked scream of a child, followed closely by cries of adult dismay. The subject of our debate pelted back into my chamber at full speed, dodging the grasp of one of Arwen's aides as he cleared the doorway. The wet tunic was gone as were the boots, and the skinny body was clad only in worn leggings now. But no matter his state of dress, Legolas was leaving with all possible speed. He was fast, he was agile, and he was bolting for the archway that led to the stairs and outside.

Mithrandir was too far away to reach him, but as the child tore past me it was easy enough for me to snatch him up as he pelted past. He was strong for one so small, and struggled violently against my hands closed round his upper arms, but there was no contest between his strength and my battle-trained muscles. It took only two lunges against my unyielding grip for him to recognize the futility of struggling. He ceased, standing frozen before me and seeming to shrink in on himself as he stood quietly awaiting my next move. His gaze lowered to the floor, and the head bowed, tangled hair falling forward to hide his expression from me. I could see his heart pounding as he panted, bruised skin rippling over all-too-obvious ribs.

This was not right. This attitude of defeat, of surrender, was not a normal reaction. I knelt before him so that we were closer to eye level, but Legolas refused to acknowledge me. I removed one hand from his arm and reached to push the hair away from his face, so that I might see his eyes and gain some small clue as to what was happening, but as my hand touched his hair he flinched violently and cringed away.

"Here now." I forced the words out past the lump in my throat in what I hoped were paternal tones. "That's not necessary. I'm not going to hurt you."

I reached again, but this time the lad merely turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of the blow he clearly expected, and whimpered in fear.

I released him instantly, horrified at what I'd just witnessed. The child spun into motion, but this bolt took him directly into Mithrandir's arms where the wizard knelt behind the child. That protective embrace was evidently an acceptible alternative to fleeing, and Legolas burrowed against the rough woven robe as though to hide within it. Mithrandir's gaze met mine, his eyes sad with the knowledge he knew that I now held as well.

"Your request for sanctuary is granted," I murmured. "Legolas is welcome here for as long as he wishes to stay, as a full citizen of Imladris."

Mithrandir tightened his hold on the child and stood, lifting him into his arms. Relief and gratitude in equal measure was reflected in his eyes as he met mine. "I don't know about you, little leaf, but since we're welcome to stay, I should like to be dry and warm. What about you? Does that sound good to you?"

There was a hesitant nod, but the small face remained buried in his beard.

"I thought a bath would be a good place to start, Father," a plaintive voice spoke. "He could warm up as he gets clean. He’s filthy."

We all turned toward Arwen where she stood forgotten by the archway into the next room. She seemed both upset and embarrassed. "I didn’t realize he’d panic."

"No, of course you didn't," Mithrandir said gently. "How could you know the quirks of such strange and weary travelers as we are?"

He turned to face my daughter, affording me a clear view of the bruised and – oh, Elbereth -- the scarred back. Rage such as I had not known for hundreds of years surged through me at the thought of such brutality on one so young.

"Thranduil?" I heard myself growl.

Mithrandir nodded, his attention still focused on Arwen and the child he held.

"How could he?" I demanded. "I know that he grieves, but this is beyond grieving. This is madness. This lad is little more than a baby."

"I agree. But the king gave his son to me, and I intend to hold him to it. Legolas is not the first heir, and his absence is no loss to the kingdom. I, however, think this young elf is someone very special, and I shall be delighted to serve as his guardian." He turned then, shifting the discussion as he addressed my daughter. "Lady, you suggested some dry clothes and perhaps something for the weary travelers to eat?"

She smiled, her confidence returning with the assigned role of hostess and caregiver. "I was leaving just now to organize that." With that she slipped out of the room, leaving us – lord, wizard and foundling - alone.

"Did she say bath, young one?" Mithrandir managed to unpeel the small elf enough so that we could see his face. Again there was a hesitant nod. "Oh, that sounds very welcome to me. What do you think? Should we try for warm and clean?"

The wizard began moving toward the bathing room. I followed, watching as Mithrandir deftly handled the needs of this fragile child.

"Ah, there's water already in the tub," he exclaimed in overdone enthusiasm as he leaned over the gently steaming water. "Is the water warm enough? Put your hand in there and test it for me." He bent low, angling the child toward the water so that one small hand might dip below the surface. "Warm?"

Legolas nodded and was carefully set down to stand on the floor. His gaze slid toward me, a wary sidewise glance clearly questioning the presence of the elf who had captured and frightened him so. I tried not to meet his eyes and settled into the chair in the corner of the bathing chamber.

"I hope Arwen brings enough for all of us," I remarked to no one in particular. "I think I should like an early breakfast myself."

Mithrandir nodded, though whether to the sound of breakfast or in approval of my joining his casual conversation I wasn't sure.

"I do hope there is some warm bread and honey," he said. "The bread baked here is the finest I've had in Middle-Earth. Come on, now, little leaf. We can't have a bath in dirty leggings. Off they come."

The tights were deftly slipped down off of legs that were just as skinny as the arms, and before the child had a chance to protest he was swung up and into the water. It was deep, reaching midway up the scrawny little chest. The child's eyes widened in shock, but he made no protest or effort to escape.

"It would have been a nice ride, but for the rain today," Mithrandir said casually. "And we had no problems in Mirkwood. Not even any spiders. Did you know of the spiders they have there? Quite large. And rather aggressive."

He cupped his hands, pouring water over the child's torso, then reaching for the soft soap in the pot by the tub. A dab was rubbed to lather between his palms, then gently spread across the small shoulders and down his arms.

"That is ill news," I remarked, keeping the conversation going. "Are they able to handle the menace?"

The wizard's attentions moved down to grubby fingers and darkened areas around his wrists. The fingers and fingernails improved with his ministrations, but the dirt encircling the small wrists remained. My stomach twisted as I understood. He paused in his washing to give the left elbow closer scrutiny, then released it to retreat beneath the water’s surface once more.

"Well enough, I think," the wizard murmued. "I heard of many victorious battles, far more than would have interested anyone save the participants themselves."

His beard twitched, and he scowled. Evidently it had been a rather boring evening in Thranduil's hall. The soap on the hands was replenished, and Legolas's back was gently scrubbed, with great care taken over tender areas. I watched, amazed, as Mithrandir managed with paternal expertise what I would have considered to be far outside his range of experiences. Evidently there was a great deal for me to learn of this wizard.

"I didn't get many details, but it seems that Dol Goldur is still inhabited by some rather unsavory neighbors as well. The elves say that they will not go that way, so it may be there were no further details to give. Elrond, we are going to need fresh water here before much longer, I'm afraid."

"There is more in the boiler behind you. I believe we have enough at least to see to the comfort one small elf." I smiled at the elf in question, but doubted that it had any impact as his gaze carefully avoided my corner.

Coarse gray sleeves were rolled up and hands disappeared under the water for a cursory cleaning of what was out of sight. My cowardly heart was just as pleased to be spared any more heart-wrenching discoveries tonight.

"I do not know whether there will be any further investigations of that area on their part," Mithrandir continued. "I shall need to return to check into it myself. Mind your eyes, little leaf. Cover them tightly."

Water was cupped into large hands to be poured over the dark hair. Once wet, it smelled of earth and leaves and horse strongly enough to reach my corner. More soap was rubbed into the hair, mingling with but not eclipsing the scents of nature that suddenly filled the room.

"I'd say your bath came none to soon, little one. Another few days and we'd be sleeping in the stable."

One small hand snuck out from under the dripping tangles, and tugged impudently at the grey beard beside him.

"Are you implying that I might need a wash as well?" We both laughed at the emphatic nod.

"He has spent some time hiding in that wet bramble," I ventured. "Who better to judge?"

I offered a cup that I found on the window ledge, and Mithrandir scooped up water to pour through the soapy strands of hair. The water that ran from it was an appalling dirty shade, and the wizard's displeased frown echoed my own.

"I shall have my turn in the wash water soon enough, and then we shall all smell like flowers, won't we?"

More soap was applied, this time rubbed in more vigorously. More rinsing. More dirt. The child now sat in a most unappealing cloudy brownish-grey liquid. The water was released from the tub and allowed to run down the channels for disposal, while I filled two buckets from the boiler as the old water drained away. And two more. And two more, until the child had some warm liquid about him, though not as much. The seventh bucket I poured gently over the lathered hair, watching as still more grime ran away, though this time not so much. Another firm scrubbing and another bucket's-worth of rinsing had him relatively clean.

Both Mithrandir and I sat and stared at Legolas in shock. Where a dark-haired, smudged-faced elf had sat, we now had a fair-complected child with shining silver-blond hair. One with the high cheekbones and delicate features of his mother, as well as huge blue eyes. Huge and worried blue eyes. I was pleased that I was the first to break free from the spell of discovery and offer a sheet to wrap the little elf in as we waited for appropriate clothing.

"Quite the improvement, my lad. Now if we could only get Mithrandir as clean."

He looked up at me from the cocoon of fabric around him, startled, as though unsure whether I was teasing or insulting his friend. I smiled in hopes of appearing harmless, and was rewarded by the ghost of a smile in return. Actually, I think I saw one corner of his mouth twitch, but it was a start.

"I think I might put off my bath, if my companions would not be too offended. I think I hear the approach of someone who might be bringing us something to eat." Mithrandir gave the child a pat on the shoulder and rose somewhat stiffly from the floor. "Shall we go see?"

"Clothes first, then we eat -- oh, Elbereth, look at this child!" The lady of Rivendell stood frozen, transfixed by the transformation of our little guest. "He's beautiful! Father, is he not the image of his mother?"

"Is he?" Mithrandir asked softly. "It would explain much."

"He is," I confirmed. "I see much of his mother in him. Especially the eyes. And the hair. And yes, I think that it does explain much."

"I have clothes for wearing and for sleeping," Arwen advised, breaking the spell. "They were Ardelath’s son’s and outgrown, but they're still good. I'll see to some proper clothing of his own tomorrow. I gather he came with nothing else."

Her displeasure made it plain that this was not a question so much as a statement.

"Only a horse, dear lady. Only a horse. A fine one, I'm told, and one that is dear to him."

I nod at that information. Another piece of the riddle, which will no doubt find its rightful place in due time.

Clothing was handed to Mithrandir, who set it on one of the few dry spots on the floor that remained following our combined efforts to find the child under the dirt. Arwen was still staring with fascination at the lad, who anxiously shuffled closer to Mithrandir for all that he was immobilized by several windings of bath sheet.

"Why don't you dress, and join us when you're ready? I'm going to see to the food."

With that, Mithrandir turned and swept an arm toward the main chamber, clearly inviting Arwen to precede him. Startled, she complied and he paced after her. I followed after a moment of hesitation. With a moment's thought, I understood what Mithrandir was doing; he was giving the child some breathing space and wanted him to join us of his own choice. It was a carefully crafted moment, however, as we had possession of the only exits from the chambers and fresh-baked bread that I could smell even over the scent of floral-scented soap and the lingering smell of wet horse.

Arwen excused herself to see to sleeping accommodations for our guests, leaving the wizard and myself alone in the room. We sat quietly talking of what Mithrandir had learned in his travels through Lorien and Mirkwood. It was some minutes before I realized that Legolas had not yet joined us. Alarmed, I glanced toward the bath chamber, then at the clearly empty room. Mithrandir smiled, and pointed downward toward the center of the table.

Table. Down. I bent and peered into the shadows beneath the table to find our little elf fully clothed once more, sitting back against Mithrandir's shins and gnawing contentedly on an apple with his teeth to the left of center. He tilted his head for a better angle as I watched, and another awkward bite revealed the reason for this – he had no front teeth. Feeling my gaze upon him, Legolas froze. Startlingly blue eyes widened into mine with uncertainty and no little fear. I smiled, though I felt hurt beneath it and then straightened, leaving him to his shadows and his apple.

No, I couldn't leave it. My heart wouldn't have it. Snatching up another apple, I sliced it quickly into little-boy-sized wedges and piled it on a plate. Then as a second thought I added several slices of slices of cheese.

"He's too thin," I explained, trying to sound clinical. Setting the plate on the floor, I used the toe of my shoe to scoot it toward Legolas without looking.

We both waited for a tense moment, wondering what the reaction to my gift would be. The sounds of crisp apple cleanly bitten reached us, followed by a soft and contented humming sound. And then I felt a gentle pat on the toe of my shoe, much as one would pat a horse in appreciation.

A thank you from my newest son.

The sun was rising. The sky was a pearly rose grey, the thunderclouds having long since cleared away. The dawn would be a beautiful one today. And my heart felt very light with its commitment to this beautiful child. Mithrandir added more honey to a slice of bread and slipped it under the table as he smiled at me, his eyes filled with wisdom and understanding.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Elrond and I had talked almost until the sun arose. Climbing into my lap eventually, Legolas fell asleep against my chest there in the elf lord's library. I took my leave of Elrond as the sky lightened in the east and carried my charge to the large chamber that Arwen had prepared for both of us. Nightshirts were laid out on the bed, and mind proved so large that it dragged the floor when I slipped it over my head. I suspected that the soft, thickly woven nightshirt Arwen had chosen for Legolas had probably belonged to one of her twin brothers, as she'd had time by then to go rummage in storage for supplies. It smelled of cedarwood and was a bit yellowed, but it proved a perfect fit for the slender little body.

Legolas was heavily asleep and did not stir when I laid him beneath the covers. Sliding in beside him, I put out the candle and scowled at the light beyond our small balcony. Not even a wizard could delay the sun's rising, but perhaps the House of Elrond would have compassion for its guests and let us sleep long into the day.

It seemed I'd only just closed my eyes when there came a rustle at the doorway. Someone was approaching at speed, and a gentle slap of a bare palm on the archway served as a request to enter. Opening my eyes, I watched Elrond sweep into our sleeping chamber. He looked grave, his blue eyes were troubled, and my heart sank.

"Mithrandir, we have difficulties approaching."

I glanced down at the small form burrowed beneath the bedclothes beside me. The tension of the moment had reached him before it had me, and he'd gone up on his knees beneath the blankets. He sat very still, his blue eyes wide and apprehensive as they watched me.

"What is it?" I asked Elrond, not needing to know what the difficulty concerned. All three of us knew what – or whom – would be under contention.

"Riders. King Thranduil's guard from Mirkwood. They are entering the courtyard as we speak. I must greet them, but we must decide what we are to do from here. We should have done this last night rather than discussing other matters."

I nodded and laid my hand against Legolas's cheek. Closing his eyes, he leaned into my touch. "We should have, but we had other concerns, and I thought – hoped – that we’d have a bit more time."

I rose from that lovely, soft bed and turned to gently pull my small one out as well. Standing on the edge of the mattress, he leaned against me, evidently seeking some measure of reassurance. My arm around his shoulders would have to suffice for now, as the elven lord commanded all of my attention.

"Elrond, do you wish to bow out of this conflict? We would not blame you if wish to avoid a direct confrontation with Mirkwood."

He frowned, then shook his head. "I have no wish to lead Imladris into an elf-versus-elf situation, but neither can I in good conscience allow this child to be dragged back into that situation. I would feel myself equally his abuser should this happen. From the reactions I'm already getting from others among us, I feel that most of Rivendell would be equally loath to give him up."

"Then shall we run?" I suggested, my fingers carding once more through that soft, heavy hair. "We could slip out another way of if you stall them, and you could tell the riders that we are not here."

"The idea has merit, but duplicity holds no great appeal for me, either." He gazed out over the balcony for a moment, deep in thought. "No, let us confront this directly and settle the matter, so that we need not be skulking and hiding from truths that are, in any case, best brought into the open."

"Thranduil did give custody of Legolas over to me, Elrond. Willingly and repeatedly over the course of a few minutes, before many witnesses."

Elrond seemed pleased to be reminded of that fact. Surprise lightened the grim lines of his expression. "Then we will meet them and remind them it is so. I will greet them while you dress and wait for me near the greeting hall. We’ll decide what to do from there."

Legolas had slipped down from the bed. Padding across the room, he stretched on tiptoe to peer over the balcony.

"Gerdan." he whispered.

"Do you know him, little leaf?"

He nodded and pointed at the slender Captain of the Guard who was standing and waiting ahead of the others.

"Gerdan," Legolas repeated, but offered no other information.

Elrond and I exchanged glances and I shrugged, not knowing what the name or the man meant to the child. I pulled him away from the balcony’s rail lest the now-identified Captain see and identify him.

"Dress and join us," the elf lord repeated, then swept from the room.

My robes took no time to climb into, and I tugged tunic and leggings onto Legolas so quickly that I was surprised the child still had his ears in place. Boots were forgone, but I did take a moment to try to smooth the tangled, now shining hair. The first sweep of the comb was greeted with a screech from my small victim and had no effect whatsoever on the hair. Legolas stared back at me so reproachfully that I cast the comb aside and satisfied myself with at least pulling a handful of hair back away from his face and tying it off quickly with a heavy thread pulled from my sleeve. Scooping him, up, I headed for the stairs.

Three steps out the door, I decided that I had best look as formal as possible, regardless my child still looked like a waif. Wheeling back into the room, I angled Legolas's small body down toward the desk. "Hat and staff, if you please?"

He grabbed them for me. I donned the hat one-handed as we went striding down the corridor with Legolas still carrying my staff. We arrived at the edge of the entryway just as the captain squared off with Elrond. Eight elves ranged across the expanse, forming a neat, grim line behind the captain. All bore the colors of Mirkwood, and all were armed.

"Lord Elrond." The Captain offered a formal bow to the Lord of Imladris. "I am Gerdan, Captain of the Guard of Mirkwood, under orders from King Thranduil. It would seem that his child has been abducted, and there is word that he was to be brought to Rivendell. We are here to return him to retrieve and return him to his father."

Legolas and I hovered just outside the archway, listening and watching. He wiggled and pointed to the floor, so I reluctantly set him down. He then leaned against my leg, half hiding but nowhere near as tense as I expected he would be..

"What leads your king to believe that I would harbor an abducted child?"

The captain looked less than pleased, but continued with his ordered mission. "The wizard Mithrandir has taken the child, and he was reported by some to have been returning here. My company and I therefore request permission to search for the child within your borders."

"And if you should find the child?" spoke a new voice.

The captain and Elrond both turned to discover Glorfindel had slipped up to stand behind them. Elrond's grown twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, eased silently across the floor in Glorfindel's wake to flank their father, their expressions forbidding.

"*IF* we should find the child, we are ordered to return him to his father," Gerdan relayed.

"You would take the child back? Even knowing what awaits him there?" Elrond demanded.

The captain glanced down to the shining stone of the floor, then squared his shoulders and looked back up to meet Elrond’s eyes with evident reluctance.

"Thranduil is my king, and I owe him my loyalty and obedience. I must do as he orders me." His eyes softened and grew sad, and the formal manner of the guard slipped somewhat. "My king was a good prince in his day, Lord Elrond. He was once also a good leader, as was his father, King Orophir. Thranduil grieves now, and his pain leads him down paths that he would otherwise not embrace, as he is not himself. We have hopes that one day he will return to himself and be the strong, compassionate ruler we know he is capable of being. But while he remains buried in his grief… though we must obey, not all condone what he does in his madness."

"You would still return the child to his abuser?"

Elrond’s temper was beginning to fray a bit around the edges, and Glorfindel stepped forward to place a calming hand on his lord's shoulder. Offering a polite nod, he addressed the Mirkwood guard before him. "Captain Gerdan, I am Glorfindel."

Gerdan's eyes went wide. His mouth dropped open but he closed it the next moment, the better to swallow hard. I supposed it wasn't every day that a lowly captain from Mirkwood came face to face with the elven warrior who'd slain a balrog, only to be re-embodied in his beloved Rivendell. Gendan offered a bow that was every bit as formal as the one he'd offered Elrond earlier.

"You are known to us, my lord."

Glorfindel addressed the guard with steady solemnity. "You say that you would wait for your king to pass beyond his madness. The young one he seeks has no such time to wait. He has suffered, and would suffer further should he be returned, as no child should have to."

"This we know, my lord, and we ask only to search, so that we may report that we have fulfilled our duties. We need deal with the question of the child’s return only if we should see him here."

The almost desperate emphasis on that qualifier made me narrow my eyes and then step forward, pushing Legolas back behind the archway. "So, you are not certain he is here?"

"Mithrandir?" He looked startled, discomfited by my appearance. "No, Master Wizard. I have only rumors to indicate he is here. But if you are here…."

"You do know that Thranduil gave the child to me."

"That fact is well known in Mirkwood. However, the king has had second thoughts about doing so and now refuses to acknowledge his actions as valid. He insists that it was merely… a game between you. It was not a serious matter. He says that you… misinterpreted."

"I did not misinterpret. Game though it may have been, the bet was as binding as every other bet that night."

"I understand, Master Wizard, but I ask you to understand that I must do my king’s bidding. I must search for our prince."

"Our prince?" I had heard that phrase before, and always it had been uttered by Legolas’s supporters.

Gerdan’s gaze was intense and determined. "Yes, OUR prince. We are to search, my lord, and return him if he is found. However, as none of us here actually saw him arrive in Rivendell, we cannot be certain that he is here."

The guard’s gaze shifted then, and I turned to see that Legolas had crept around the archway and up beside me to stare up at the captain. The elf hesitated, expression softening as he watched the young one move up beside me.

"The prince, as we last saw him in the halls of Mirkwood, was shy," Gerdan continued. "He had very dark hair and shunned company. I see no such child here." Turning, he addressed the Mirkwood elves that backed him. "Do you see any such child?"

All eyes were on the small waif leaning against my leg.

"No, Gerdan. We see no such child," one voice answered for all.

The captain turned his attention to the crowd of Rivendell residents that had gradually grown to become quite a crowd behind him. That crowd was muttering and pressing closer on the Mirkwood contingent.

"I volunteered to lead this search for our prince, my lords," Gerdan called to the group. "I asked my most trusted elves to accompany me on this search, so that justice might be served."

"Justice? What justice do you seek, Captain?" Elrond’s voice still held an edge, and there was an echoing murmur from the crowd around them.

"I seek to return a frightened, dark elf to Mirkwood upon his father the King’s demand. But I see no such elf here." Smiling, Gerdan sank to one knee and reaching into his tunic for a small pouch. "But if I did see our prince, I would firstly return to him something that he left behind at Mirkwood. He sometimes carried a small carven horse and seemed fond of it. As I see no such elf here, perhaps this young one with the shining blond hair would enjoy having such a toy?"

Gerdan set the tiny horse on his open palm and extended it toward Legolas, who crept forward to take it. With the toy safely in his hands, the child looked up at the guard captain, blue eyes shining, and favored him with a toothless smile.

Gerdan laughed softly with such delight, I suspected that he’d never seen such a sight before.

"Little Prince, are you safe here?" he asked quietly.

Legolas nodded.

"Does anyone here hit you, or frighten you?"

A solemn shake of the head, with hair flying everywhere.

"Do you get enough to eat?"

A nod.

Do you want to stay here?"

An emphatic nod, with more hair flying.

"Then you are happy here, little one?"

A nod and another smile, and a backward pat on my knee as I’d moved closer to hear the conversation.

Gerdan sighed with apparent relief. "Good. Take care, my prince. Grow strong and be happy. And perhaps, when you have grown and strong, you might come visit us in Mirkwood, for there are many who care about you, and will miss you."

"When he is grown and strong and able to decide for himself," I answered for Legolas. "Until then, this little elf will stay here where he will be educated and trained under Lord Elrond’s care and my guardianship."

"Many will be glad to hear of this little elf’s good fortune, whatever his name might be." The smiles we exchanged were pledges of silence, and of loyalty to a small member of Mirkwood’s royalty.

Gerdan rose and squared his shoulders to face the elven lords of Rivendell. "I thank you for your leave to search Imladris for the missing prince, Lord Elrond. Lord Glorfindel, I thank you for your assistance. It is regrettable that we found no dark-haired child resembling the missing prince of Mirkwood. We will take our leave of you now, lords, as we must report the failure of our mission to our King."

He bowed again -- they all bowed, before filing out to the horses waiting at the edge of the courtyard path, and I scooped up my little elf to follow them. Predictably, at least three of the horses nickered in greeting when Legolas appeared. The guard mounted swiftly yet still hesitated, waiting for their commander’s signal to lead off. Gerdan, however, was staring with amazement at the white-blond hair of my elf as I carried him into the sunlight.

"Wanna thhee," Legolas lisped.

I obligingly moved over to Gerdan’s horse that extended his nose eagerly to the child. Legolas patted the huge head gently, then looked up at the captain.

"Thank you for my horth," he said, so softly that I wasn’t certain Gerdan would hear the words.

The captain smiled and cautiously reached to run a hand over the shining hair. Legolas did not shy away from the touch, and Gerdan rubbed a strand of hair between his fingers, as if making a memory. "You are welcome, my prince. But I never saw you. Remember that."

My little leaf nodded, clearly understanding secrets and duplicity even at his young age. Gerdan backed up his horse and Legolas waved at him, then to the others, all of whom returned the parting gesture.

"And the king thinks he’s likely mute," Gerdan remarked dryly to his men, well within earshot of the group from Rivendell that had followed us down. "Now I can surely tell him this one is not his son."

"We will go now and report our failure to King Thranduil. Then we shall return to search the roads to the Grey Havens, and then likely to Lorien, Lord Elrond," he called back to us as he turned toward the road. With a final wicked grin, the guard raised his hand and waved his men down toward the road. As the hoofbeats faded, Elrond, Glorfindel and the twins turned to share equal surprise at the conclusion of this meeting.

"That went more smoothly than I expected," Glorfindel remarked cheerfully.

"The prince does have supporters in Mirkwood," I confirmed. "They fear for their own position and safety, so there was little they could do for him in the open, but their honor and loyalty is showing now."

"This will not end it," Elrond warned sourly, in sharp contrast with the air of success surrounding us. "In time, Thranduil will realize that Legolas is here. He will petition for his return."

"He will," I agreed. "But we have won the first round.

"May I see your horse, little leaf?" said Glorfindel, sliding up beside us.

Legolas eyed the newcomer solemnly before offering the carved pony for the lord’s inspection. Glorfindel turned it gently between his fingers, studying it while Legolas watched.

It was a well-crafted carving, with the horse’s graceful lines frozen in a gallop, tail flagged and neck arched proudly.

"He is quite a fine horse," said Glorfindel. "Who gave him to you?"

"Gerdan," Legolas whispered, taking back the carving and pulling his treasure close again.

Eyebrows rose all around. I knew that if the captain of the guard cared so much for this child, Thranduil would have a difficult time accomplishing any action against him with the king’s own army deflecting every effort he made.

"I think that we have little to worry about, at least for awhile. Perhaps even years." I smiled at Legolas, who wrapped his arms about my neck and smiled back. I bounced him slightly to set him better against my hip before heading back into the elf lord’s home. Legolas giggled at the movement, and my heart was warmed by the sound. "How about some breakfast, my friends?"

"Breakfast?" Elrond sounded incredulous, following in our wake. "You two slept through breakfast; it was hours ago."

"Then let me introduce all of you to the wonderful Hobbit custom of second breakfast."

END

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