Lord of the Rings 1. Chapter 1

Title: Mellyn?

Author: Pentangle

Rating: K+

Sequel to "Five Words in Winter"

Laer – summer

Orgilion, Oranor, Orithil, Orgaladhad: days of the week

A/N In my 'Young Estel" stories Gilraen died in the Orc attack that killed Arathorn. Also, no one but a handful of people in Imladris know Estel's identity, although the elven kingdoms would have been aware that Elrond had accepted yet another human fosterling. The gathering mentioned is not the "Council of Elrond" but a more informal meeting having as much to do with trade as fighting the forces of evil. Once in a very great while, Elrond uses corporal punishment (hardly ever, so don't flame me, please)

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** Mirkwood and Imladris**

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The prince of Mirkwood gave a sigh of contentment as he and his small band of warriors left the borders of his home behind them. He always felt a twinge of guilt at how much he enjoyed escaping the grim atmosphere that was a result of the dark forces at work in Dol Guldur and the deadly giant spiders that seemed to extend their territory with every passing year.

It was seven years ago that Legolas had felt the darkness was overcoming his spirit and that he would eventually become nothing but a blade and a bow, an automaton, having no purpose except to deal death, having no hope that a brighter future was possible. Then, in a winter so hard it seemed the Valar had abandoned Middle-earth completely, he had found hope in an ancient ritual unique to the Silvan elves. He had found hope in the news that a new fosterling had been taken to Imladris and through the ritual had learned that, somehow, this Hope would be central to the saving of Middle-earth. He had also learned that in some way this human fosterling would be important in his own life.

It had taken every bit of stubbornness he possessed to finally get his father's permission to journey to Imladris. His father was not unkind; he simply did not understand why Legolas was in such a hurry. "You were there only fifty years ago! Why the urgency? Two years, twenty, what difference can it make, my son? Surely you may go, but not when we are so hard-pressed here."

"Father, what was the point of making Aignor my second if I cannot leave affairs in his hands from time to time? He thinks you do not like him, or that you feel he is incapable of command."

Thranduil snorted. _That_ had not been one of his better ideas. He had wanted Legolas to begin to assemble a retinue, but he had never intended his son to hand over such an important post to a blatherskite. "Nonsense! I like him well enough, though his tongue runs like a fiddlestick. But command? Just last week he bowed so low to me he fell on his face. And the week before he strung Lindien's linen on that dead tree on the road to Lake Town!"

"He was not on duty when he did so. What difference if he has a merry heart so long as he can lead our warriors? They trust him and so do I. Please, Adar, give him a chance to show you what he can do."

The argument had lasted for six years, off and on, but Legolas had prevailed. It was a pale and suddenly serious Aignor that assumed command for the defenses of Mirkwood, vowing to care for his prince's kingdom in his absence. He stood beside Legolas' horse for a final farewell but his eyes roved continuously over the assembled escort, checking that all were properly accoutered. His gaze sharpened on a horse that stood with one foreleg placed slightly before the other, with the knee bent. He strode to the piebald's side and ran a hand down the leg, frowning at the heat he felt. He then stood and barked at the rider, "Get another mount; your horse is throwing out a splint. I should stand you down for such carelessness! You have five minutes!"

Legolas smiled down at Thranduil, who stood with his hand on the neck of Legolas' horse. "You see? He is harder on them than I am."

The king merely huffed a little then looked up at his son again. "Since you are determined to take this journey, I suppose I should give you this." He pulled a folded parchment from his tunic and gave it into Legolas' hands.

The prince took it, scanned it quickly, and then recited aloud. "Greetings to the King of Mirkwood. Be herein advised that upon the 17th day of Laer, a convocation will convene in Imladris to discuss the grave developments of this past year. The Lord of Imladris feels that an informal gathering of men, elves, and other free peoples of Middle-earth who may choose to attend will be of great benefit to all. Imladris will be pleased to receive whomever you should send and will grant them all courtesy. Erestor, Chief Counselor to Lord Elrond." Legolas glared at his father in exasperation. "What Age were you planning to mention this to me? You do realize the gathering will be nearly over by the time I arrive?"

"You can get there in time; you will just have to bestir yourself a trifle. It will be good for you; your life is too soft here—feather beds, royal cooks – "

"Spiders, back-to-back patrols, Orcs—and may I repeat, spiders?"

As usual, Thrandruil ignored minor points that did not contribute to his argument. He waved a hand airily. "All you young ones do is complain. Are you ready?"

"Yes, if Aignor will stop fussing. Adar…take care while I am gone? You are a stubborn, irascible old elf but I would miss you a little if something happened to you." Legolas wished at times that he and his father were as open about their feelings as his friends in Imladris were, but the patterns of an Age were hard to change, and the two did care for each other deeply.

Thranduil gripped his son's knee tightly but laughed up at him. "The nut falls not far from the tree, little leaf, for you have taken my stubbornness and doubled it, else there would be no journey at all! Now, be off with you!"

Legolas signaled his elves and the group turned toward the path that led away from the palace. Those remaining behind raised their voices in song and soon the forest echoed with lovely melodies calling for good weather and the Valar's blessings. As the last glimpse of his son faded into the shadows of the woodland, Thranduil sighed and whispered, "Fare well, Greenleaf. Return safely to me."

So it was that the prince finally left the dark wood behind him. As the warm rays of the early summer sun struck his face he laughed aloud and rose in his stirrups, singing a stirring ballad and urging his horse into a gallop. His escort caught his mood and soon all were racing along the Old Forest Road toward the Misty Mountains. Legolas felt a sudden intoxicating rush of anticipation; in just a little over a week he would meet his Hope!

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It was late evening in the Hall of Fire and the guests of the valley of Imladris as well as its residents were gathered to enjoy relaxing entertainments after the stresses of the day. As usual, tempers had flared as old grievances were brought forth to interfere with new alliances and treaties. Lord Elrond's headache pounded in rhythm with the bodhrans of the musicians as he moved among the crowd: smiling, bowing slightly, smiling, greeting with a brief touch, smiling, and yet more smiling. He mused that at times he would rather be a scullion than Lord of Imladris. At least they had the freedom to frown when they had a headache, and they would be in bed well before dawn.

Far across the hall from the music, Erestor led a lively political discussion. He skillfully maneuvered the conversation into the channels he desired and by the time he was finished, several recalcitrant conference attendees believed that they had come up with the ideas Erestor had carefully inserted into their minds. As he glanced in that direction, Elrond smiled a genuine smile; watching the councilor appear to hang upon every word of the greatest idiot among three races was a delight, especially if you knew him well enough to imagine his internal comments about the hapless half-wit. Elrond watched his friend at work for a few moments longer, then swept his gaze across the hall. The sky had turned a red-streaked violet as the sun set behind the valley cliffs and Elrond had one particular appointment that could not be deferred. He began to search in earnest as he moved through the shifting crowd.

For those seeking to escape both politics and the noise of the musicians, a quieter group by the fire told stories in hushed voices of the strange things that happen in lonely places when one is traveling all alone. Such stories are enjoyed by all races and this was an opportunity to have a friendly competition in producing thrilling shivers and gasps. The elder twin son of Elrond sat in this group, smiling slightly as a familiar tale was told. Against his side, pressed close, was another listener whose wide eyes spoke of intense interest or even fear. A sudden shudder brought Elladan's head around and he whispered, "Ah, young one, I think perhaps I should not have let you listen to this story. Let us go and find our brother and get you along to bed."

The child clinging to his side grasped a handful of tunic in his hand and said urgently, "But I want to hear the end! What was the tapping and moaning? Was it – " He gulped, then continued on, dropping his voice to a hoarse whisper. "- Orc ghosts!"

Groaning internally at the thought of the nightmares sure to torment his little brother, Elladan stood and pulled the human after him. "What an imagination you have! Orc ghosts! Orcs are too ugly to have ghosts. Ai, here comes Ada. Let us not tell him of these stories; he will think you are too young to hear them."

The child nodded vigorously as he grinned up at Elladan. When he was smaller he had called what they were doing, 'hiding things from Ada.' Now, following the example of his brothers, he called it 'saving our Adar from needless worry when he has so many grave responsibilities.' It was wonderful having older brothers in oh, so many ways!

The two, one a mature elven warrior and one a nine year old human, hurried to intercept the tall, beautifully robed figure that moved serenely toward them. The ruler of Imladris was dressed in full ceremonial robes of crimson and gold to honor his guests and his hair was elaborately braided, but he gracefully stooped down to accept the reaching arms of his foster son.

"My Estel, I am very pleased with how well you have behaved this evening. And if my eyes do not deceive me, there is not one stain upon your new tunic. Will you go with Elladan and prepare for bed? I cannot leave our guests just now, but when I escort the nobles to their rooms I will look in on you."

Estel frowned. "You did not say good-night to me last night. I waited and waited!"

"It was very, very late when I came to your room, but I _always_ look in on you, even if you are asleep." Elrond was well aware that the child that had been orphaned suddenly and violently needed to know he could trust the word of those he loved. Everyone in the Last Homely House was careful not to make casual promises to the boy whom they had sworn to nurture and protect.

Estel's foster father gave him one last squeeze and rose to his feet. "How if we do this: you will go to sleep at the proper time for growing humans, and I will wake you when I come to bid you sweet dreams."

Estel considered carefully and replied in his most serious voice, "If you promise to wake me so that I know you have come, I will go to sleep when I am supposed to."

"Excellent! We are agreed – "

"After my story."

"Naturally. Now if you will excuse – "

"And my song."

"Of course, but – "

"And my treat."

This was too much for the elf lord and one eyebrow soared in a signal well known to the inhabitants of the valley. "Are you finished?"

The dark-haired head bent. "Yes, Adar."

A long-fingered hand, adorned this night with a large cabochon cut ruby, lifted the small chin and pinched it teasingly. "Good! Elladan, you are excused from the Hall while you and Elrohir tend to Estel. However, you will both return when you have finished."

"I was hoping to remain with Estel and read in his room while he sleeps. I have spent every night this week doing my duty, Adar!"

"You have. And you will continue to do it. You can laugh and jest with the men better than any of us and I want them wined and mellow so that they will be amenable to my counsel tomorrow."

"The things I do for Imladris! Come along, Estel. Elrohir has finished his song and will be ready to come with us." The two headed for the musicians and quickly found a near-duplicate of Elladan. The younger twin was dressed the same as the elder in robes that echoed the colors in their father's but were more tailored and had close-fitting sleeves rather than large, pendulous ones. Their hair was exactly like their father's; nearly black and hanging to their waists, though they scorned elaborate braids even for formal occasions, preferring their hair loose or held back in a single plait down their backs. Tonight it was loose and flowing, swaying gently as they walked out of the hall with Estel between them. "Elrohir, did you know that Adar – " Two pairs of dark grey eyes met, laughing at Estel's newfound formality. "- said I may stand beside him when the elves from Mirkwood arrive?"

"Very impressive! You must have been a very good boy. Are you excited to see them?" The three brothers moved on through the halls, Estel now skipping between the twins.

"Yes, for I have never met a prince before!"

"Oh no? What about us, we are princes, too!"

"No, 'Dan, I mean a _real_ prince!"

Elladan stopped dead. The other two turned to see why he was not keeping up with them and saw a tragic sight. The strong warrior stood stricken to the heart. He covered his face in his hands and sobbed. Estel tugged at his robe desperately. "What is wrong? Are you hurt? Please, what is wrong!"

Elrohir simply stood, hands on hips, and waited for Elladan's latest teasing to play itself out. The heartbroken elf lifted eyes that were red (from the vigorous rubbing he had given them behind the cover of his hands and hair) and said brokenly to his twin, "'Ro, it appears we have been mistaken all this time—we are not _real_ princes."

Elrohir did not play along and said flatly, "Yes, we are."

Very troubled, Estel looked back and forth between them. He wanted to comfort Elladan but he had a strong sense of truth, even if he did not always act accordingly. "Elladan, I do not want you to be unhappy but –"

"(sniff) But?"

"But I am sorry; you are not the son of a king. You must be the son of a king to be a prince." He put one hand on each brother, stroking them. "I am so sorry. I thought _everyone_ knew that. I _do_ still love you!" Now Estel began to sniffle in turn. "I do not care if you are not princes—you are my brothers!"

Elladan knelt and gathered Estel into his arms in a tight hug. "As long as you love us, I can bear not being a _real_ prince."

Elrohir said dryly, "That is very intrepid of you, Elladan. Now, Estel, come along to your bath and tell us more about this real prince."

As the twins removed the boy's clothing and led him to their bathing pool, Estel gave them a learned dissertation on princes. "You must call them 'Highness' and you must bow all the time when you see them. They wear very fancy clothes with gold and jewels all over them, and they sit in special chairs way above all the other people. They are very handsome and very tall."

"Thank you for telling us, Estel. Otherwise, we would not know how to behave around Prince Legolas." Elrohir winked at Elladan as he lowered the boy into the warm water.

"And they wear crowns."

"Yes, thank you, Estel, now –"

"And everyone has to do what they say."

"Fine. Now – "

"And no one can make them take a bath or do –"

"Estel, enough!"

"- anything they do not want to do, because they are a prince."

"Let us drown him."

"Agreed! We will tell Ada it was an accident."

The twins began to tickle Estel, but he was wet and slippery, and all that happened was the twins became as wet as he was as he slipped and slid all over the smooth marble surfaces of the pool. Estel squealed with laughter as he shot through his brothers' hands like a cake of soap.

At last they managed a firm grip and pulled the dripping child from the fragrant water and enfolded him in an immense towel, wrapping it around and around him. Then Elladan slung him under one arm like a parcel and carried the wriggling, giggling Estel to his room. After a few bedtime stories—that did not, to Estel's disappointment, feature Orc ghosts—the yawning child was settled for the night.

Two nearly identical heads bent and two sets of lips pressed a kiss to pink cheeks. "Good-night Estel."

"Good-night…'Dan…'Ro…see you…to..morrow…"

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End Chapter 1/6


	2. The Meeting

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**The Meeting **

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Two days later, after being warned by a runner, the family assembled on the steps to the courtyard to greet the prince. Estel stood tall and proud in robes just like his father's and brothers'. From time to time he gave a bow to nothing as he practiced his greeting. In between bows, he asked his brothers if they could see anyone coming. Just when the patience of every adult in the group was beginning to fray, Elrohir hissed, "They come! Be still now, until you are introduced!"

A group of twenty or so elves rode into the courtyard. Some were in Imladris red, russet and gold, and Estel's eyes slid quickly over them, looking instead at those in the more somber green and brown livery of the Mirkwood elves. Unfortunately for the future amity between Estel and Prince Legolas, the escort sent to welcome the visiting elves had included Glorfindel. He rode side by side with the prince and then walked with him to greet Elrond. Estel demanded of Elladan, "Which is the prince—I do not see him."

"Hush! He is the one next to Glorfindel. Now mind your manners."

Estel looked at the prince—if he was one! He was not tall, or covered in jewels, or fancy clothes or anything! Glorfindel was much more beautiful with his wide smile, blazing blue eyes and hair that was the color of the sun, not dull corn silk. He stood half a head taller than Legolas and the tired, dusty Mirkwood elf did not compare well with one who shone as did those who had been born under the light of the Two Trees. A grown man would have seen the steadfast eyes, the wisdom of the serene brow, and the strength in the controlled movement of the body. A grown woman would have seen that the hair was fine and flowed around his shoulders like silk, would have admired the high cheekbones and sensitive mouth, and would have appreciated the lithe, long-limbed form. But Estel was a little boy—with a fairy-tale idea of princes.

After Elrond had spoken formal words of greeting, and the twins had embraced their friend, Elrond placed a gentle hand on Estel's shoulder and moved him forward. "Prince Legolas, may I present to you my son, Estel."

Estel, frowning, bowed low and said, "Good afternoon, Your Highness." As he straightened, he looked sternly at the fair face above him. "If you _are_ a Highness."

Elrond regained his grip and added a little shake. "Estel!"

At this point Legolas made the first of several errors in his dealings with Estel. Although familiar with adolescents from his work with warriors in training, he had little exposure to small children. Every elleth in Mirkwood knew it was her responsibility to keep her children from bothering the royals. Therefore, he often had no casual interaction with elflings from one year to another. No doubt this contributed to what happened next. Legolas leaned down, ruffled Estel's hair and said with a rather forced smile, "What a dear little human."

Elrond instantly tightened his grip, and Estel bit back a scathing retort. Then, before he could insist his Ada tell this fake prince that he was _not_ a little human, or a little anything, or 'dear' for that matter, the adults moved from their formal positions and began to mingle, speaking about the journey, the evening's scheduled activities, and other extremely boring things. Estel found himself ignored as he moved from one conversational group to another. He watched as Elladan and Elrohir spoke warmly with the Prince. He tried to enter their conversation but Elrohir hushed him. Estel watched the animated faces of his brothers, saw the affection they had for this false prince, and suddenly felt a little lonely. The prince would stay for months and Estel had a vision of himself on the same steps where he stood at this very moment, only in his mind he was waving good-bye to three elves who hardly noticed they were leaving him. His excitement at meeting a prince drained away and was replaced by a horrid fear. He looked calculatingly at his chatting brothers and decided on Elladan. Elrohir was normally more inclined to be sympathetic but Elladan had the more finely developed feelings of responsibility. Estel shifted over to Elladan, pulled at his sleeve and turned up to him a face remarkable in its resemblance to an abandoned waif. "Elladan…my tummy hurts."

His brother quickly excused himself from his conversation and knelt next to Estel. "Does it? I think you have had too much excitement and sampled too many treats for the feast tonight. Shall I take you to your room and get you some tummy-tea?"

The pathetic child nodded with huge, swimming eyes. "Yes, please, 'Dan." The young warrior stepped to his father's side and spoke quietly. Elrond cast a concerned glance at Estel and nodded. Elrohir came to listen as well, and the boy was soon the center of attention with the false prince relegated to the sidelines. As Estel was led away, he shot a smug look at Legolas from over his shoulder. The prince looked surprised and then frowned; he had been outflanked!

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Later, when Legolas had been escorted to his chambers and was preparing for his bath, he thought ruefully of his anxiousness to meet the human that was to be his hope. No doubt his expectations had been unreasonable, but the reality was quite disheartening. The child was surely small for his age, with skinny arms and legs, and not very attractive compared to elven children. On top of that, he was rude and manipulative. That look the little devil had given him as he was led victoriously away! He had waited seven years to see this human that was to help save Middle-earth and thus, Mirkwood. It appeared he had waited in vain.

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As the next week passed, neither Legolas nor Estel saw the other at their best. Quite the contrary. On Orgilion, Legolas happened to walk past the open door of Elrond's study and glance in just as Estel was upended over the elf lord's knees and given two resounding smacks. Oranor morning, before the day's serious business began, Estel gave himself hiccups laughing at Legolas training with the twins. The child did not know that Legolas had just taught them an unusual means to disable an opponent in hand-to-hand combat. What he saw was first Elladan, then Elrohir, throw the prince repeatedly to the ground. The Mirkwood elf did not appear to be making any attempt to fight back at all. Legolas, slowly getting to his hands and knees after the seventh throw, saw Estel through the hair falling to veil his face. Later, as elves assembled in the Hall for dinner, Legolas heard Estel singing under his breath as he passed him, "Mirkwood Princes falling down, falling down, falling down. Mirkwood Princes falling down, mighty warriors!"

On Orithil, Legolas went to the library to visit with Erestor and Glorfindel while there was a break between conference sessions. He saw Estel standing with bent head, sniffling a little, before the Balrog slayer. "I am sorry, Glorfindel. I did not mean to break it."

Glorfindel said brusquely, "I suggest you think about what your carelessness has done. Perhaps you should forego the ride we were going to take tomorrow. Then you may take more care next time."

The boy began to protest but was ushered out of the room by Erestor's firm hand. Glorfindel looked at Legolas and shook his head, but before he could speak, Legolas said, "He is a little limb of Sauron! Every time I see him he is in trouble!"

At that Glorfindel became cool and formal—it was one thing for _him_ to call Estel a limb of Sauron and quite another for Legolas to do so! "Estel should not have broken the artifact, but he is a thoughtful and intelligent child who is always sorry when he has caused any trouble. I am quite fond of him. Now, if you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to."

Legolas watched as Elrond's marshal left the room and raised an eyebrow to Erestor. "What has curdled _his_ cream?"

Erestor shrugged. "He constantly spoils that child—along with everyone else in this house except for myself—and will not hear a word against him." The advisor searched his desk for a misplaced parchment as he continued, "Of course, it _was_ an accident; there was no need for Glorfindel to take away Estel's promised ride tomorrow! He is rather frustrated with the progress the conference has made thus far." This remark led the Prince to ask Erestor for some clarification on several points and the discussion moved away from the behavior of certain human fosterlings.

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The next day it was Legolas who was not at his best. A long series of unfortunate circumstances, beginning with a desire to explore a bit on his own, and concluding with a life and death struggle in the only swamp in Imladris, led to the prince limping up the courtyard steps just before the evening's formal meal. Estel, the first to be dressed, was looking in a mirror in the hallway while he waited for the twins to fetch him. Suddenly he heard a very odd noise. It went something like: shhlurp, shhlurp, mutter, shhlurp, groan, shhlurrp, swear, ssshhluurrrp. Estel ran behind a tall chair and peered around it.

Now, all children, as much as they may trust their loved ones, know their families are wrong about one thing: there really _are_ monsters. Estel now had proof as he saw a hideous monster coming toward him—a swamp monster. He darted from his hiding place and ran for Elrond's quarters, crying, "Ada! Ada! It's after me!" in a piercing near-scream.

Every doorway in the family wing was flung open and elves in every possible stage of undress came flying to the rescue of its smallest inhabitant. They converged on the entry hall and all stopped dead; stunned. Legolas faced a semi-circle of elves that included:

The Lord of Imladris, regally dressed in midnight blue and silver, looking like he would kill with his bare hands anyone daring to threaten the child clinging to his robes.

Glorfindel, only half his hair braided, standing with his hunter green underrobe dragging on the floor with a torn hem. He carried a sword which was raised threateningly.

Elladan, who was as naked as when the Valar had sent him to his loving parents, fists clenched and murder glaring from his eyes.

Elrohir, wearing a towel and foam—in his hair and running down his face. He had grabbed a spear from the wall—one without an edge—but he looked quite capable of thrusting it through anyone or anything, dullness notwithstanding.

Erestor, the first to recognize the monster, quickly removed the dagger from between his teeth after placing the two he had in his hands in the cavernous sleeves of his formal robes. He glanced around to make sure no one had noticed before assuming a haughty and disapproving expression.

Five elves and one human gazed upon the Prince of Mirkwood as he dripped upon the fine mosaic of the hall floor. The cause of yearning among the elleth of three kingdoms was covered in ropy pond slime from the crown of his head to his lone bare foot. It drooped in swags across his chest and from his arms, decorated with snails, leeches, and the greasy black muck that lay beneath the stinking waters. The elf's eyes contained the only area not black and glistening on his face, and from his hair wriggled a crayfish that fell with a splat to the floor and scuttled toward a dark corner. Elrond's eyes followed it balefully. Behind Legolas a trail of creepy-crawly things, black puddles, and more pond scum decorated the gold, russet, and cream of the entry hall floor.

Estel released his father's robe and made his way to stand before Legolas. He looked him slowly up and down, like a potentate rather disappointed with the slaves offered him. He next observed the trail behind the Mirkwood elf. He finally turned his head and asked his father, "Are you going to spank him until he cannot sit down?" This was a dire threat occasionally held over Estel's head although, in reality, it had never been carried out.

Elrond frowned as four elves choked on their laughter. He frowned darker still when Legolas looked like he was going to make an angry grab for Estel. The Lord of Imladris hissed, "You dare?" and Legolas' arms fell quickly to his sides.

The completely demoralized Mirkwood elf whispered, "Forgive me, Lord Elrond. May I please go to my quarters now? I would like to, if possible –" He shot a glare at the twins. "- forget everything that happened this day."

"I think that would be best. You will not be able to be ready in time for dinner so I shall have something sent to you." He stepped closer to the younger elf, although not too closely. "Tomorrow I would like to hear what happened, but I am sure that you will be able to put this unfortunate episode behind you very soon. Er – perhaps you could be sluiced down outside in the courtyard before you bathe? I am not sure our drains can cope with -" he gestured to indicate the algae, snails, and so forth. "I will send some servants with buckets of water."

With this final humiliation the prince's shoulders slumped, and he slowly turned to go back down the steps. Estel felt a tug of sympathy for the elf, even if he _was_ the poorest excuse for a prince he could have imagined. He ran after him and whispered to his back, "Ada will not spank you, Your Highness; I am sorry I said that. He never spanks me when I am sad or embarrassed. And you must be very, very, _very_ embarrassed."

At that Elladan and Elrohir fell on each other in hysterics and even Erestor chuckled. Legolas' shoulders slumped even further, and Elrond felt enough was enough. "Everyone, especially you, Elladan, return to your rooms and prepare for dinner as quickly as you can. Our guests must be wondering what has become of us. Thank the Valar they have their own stairway to the dining hall!"

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That night it was Elrohir alone who put Estel to bed. Just before the goodnight kiss, Estel said thoughtfully, "'Ro, the prince did not come to the Hall tonight at all."

Elrohir laughed. "No, I expect it took him a long time to get completely clean. By then I am sure he was very tired and just wanted to forget what happened."

"Have you been to see him? Has anyone? He needs someone to be sure he is alright." Estel knew that no matter what the problem, fear, or illness that might assail him, his father and brothers would never leave him to deal with it alone.

"I think tonight he just wants to be by himself. Tomorrow we will find out how he came to be in such a fix and tell him we are sorry we laughed at him."

Estel accepted that his brother knew best and snuggled into his comforter. A light caress brushed the hair from a small brow and the lamp was then extinguished. Elrohir closed the door softly behind him and returned to the Hall.

Once Elrohir was gone, Estel continued to think about the prince. He remembered the slumped shoulders and the laughter that followed the elf as he walked back to the courtyard. He hesitated only a few minutes before he threw back his covers and jumped down from his bed. He padded to the door and did not even pause before opening it and heading for the prince's room. He knocked and listened carefully but no voice bid him enter. He waited for several more minutes, tapping at intervals, but still the door did not open. He shrugged and did what he did in any other room in the family wing when he knew there was someone inside: he opened and went in. He saw the lovely sitting room and the brightly burning fire in the hearth, but no prince. He went on more slowly—it was one thing to go freely into the 'public' area of the suite and quite another to go into the bedroom. Just as he was debating whether he should leave, the door to the bath opened and Legolas walked out, toweling his hair and wearing another towel around his waist. He had changed the bath water four times before he felt all the slime and the stubborn lingering stench were cleansed from him. He looked up and saw a small human staring at him with wide eyes.

"Valar! You startled me! What are you doing in my room?" The elf reached quickly for a robe and pulled it on with rough jerks.

"I came to see if you are all right. I would not be all right if I had been like that in front of everybody and –"

"You came to see if I was still slimy, you mean?"

"No! I came…" the boy faltered; suddenly he was not sure _why_ he had felt he needed to come.

"It is surely time you were in bed. Do you want me to tell your Adar that you came to vex me further tonight?"

Estel became angry that his concerned gesture would get him in trouble. "I did not come to vex you! I was _worried_ about you! But now I am sorry because you are _not_ a real prince and you are just mean, and I am _glad_ you fell in the swamp that nobody does unless they are very stupid and careless!"

Legolas started toward the boy with his breath coming audibly, short and sharp, through his nostrils. Estel backed away, then stopped and stood his ground although his heart thudded in his throat. He fisted his hands at his side and prepared to meet his doom without a whimper. To Legolas' credit, though, he simply put his hand on the child's shoulder and turned him, quite gently, to the door. He ground his teeth but said in a nearly normal, courteous voice, "Good-night, Estel. Go back to bed now."

Estel, relieved that the elf had not committed some furious outrage upon him, returned to his room meekly, but as he climbed back into bed one lone tear trailed down his cheek. He dashed it angrily away. It was not as if he wanted that fake prince to like him or anything!

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End Chapter 2/6


	3. Gathering Clouds

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**Gathering Clouds**

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The next day, immediately following the noon meal, a harried Elladan sought out the Prince of Mirkwood. The sorry swamp episode was forgotten in the press of current concerns. "Legolas! Can you help me? One of the men from Bree is angry and about to leave and take an entire contingent with him. Adar wants me to try to convince them to remain but someone must go and find Estel. Elrohir is courting the dwarves and everyone else is busy, as well. We forgot to tell Estel there will be a storm later, and he may be caught out in it. You told me you were not going to attend the sessions this afternoon; would you go and find him for us?"

Legolas glanced out to the balcony of his room. The sun shone brightly and there was not a cloud in the sky. It appeared Thranduil's suspicions were correct: the lord of Imladris knew more about the weather than could be explained by thoughtful observation. He kept these thoughts to himself, however, and replied as a well-brought up elf should. "Of course. This has been a stressful and busy week for you; I will be happy to help in any way I can. Do you know where he will have gone?"

Elladan shook his head. "There are several places he might be. Here is a map. Though I promise he will not go near the swamp!"

Legolas laughed ruefully as he bent to examine the curling parchment. Elladan's finger moved quickly to show where Estel was most likely to be. "Go to the stables first but I doubt you will find him there at this time of day. Then try here—the field where we keep the mares and foals. He also likes to sit on the bank by the kitchen gardens at this spot, or play down here in the water meadows. If you do not find him by the middle of the second watch, return here and send a messenger into the meeting, for the storm will be a bad one and he should be home."

"Surely he will see the signs and seek shelter? He will not be in any danger, will he?" Legolas began to see that Elladan was not merely concerned that Estel would get a soaking.

"You have never been out in the valley when we have had storms. Here in the house they are beautiful and dramatic. But the shape of the valley and the cliffs mean that storms come upon us very quickly and Estel may be so involved in an imaginary Orc hunt, or whatever game he is playing, that he will miss the early warnings."

"I am surprised he is allowed to go so far from the house alone."

Elladan frowned. "Why? He is very obedient as a rule and does not go to the areas we have told him are dangerous. He has his favorite places and he is free to go to them when he does not have lessons and other responsibilities. It is true he is rarely alone for so long a time, but his favored companions are all involved in the sessions. We do not neglect him, I assure you."

"Peace, Elladan! I did not mean to criticize your family; it is obvious that you all dote on him."

Elladan smiled wryly. "And you do not see the attraction? You should give him a chance, Legolas. You might then know what we know. I can assure you, all it will take is one strangling embrace around your neck and you will lose your heart."

Legolas looked rather horrified as he imagined the human child, probably sticky with some nameless substance, clutching him about the neck. "I hope you will be content if I just return him safe and sound!"

"That will do for a start—I am concerned about him being out this afternoon." Elladan _did_ look concerned. So much so that Legolas could see he was debating whether he should go himself and forget about his responsibilities to the conference.

"Elladan! Get hold of yourself! He is simply playing somewhere in the safest stronghold in Middle-earth and I will fetch him home well before the storm arrives."

Elladan smiled and said sheepishly, "You are right, mellon nin. I will return to my _delightful_ duties and you will have a nice afternoon outdoors. And perhaps come to think more kindly of my little brother, as well."

Legolas looked taken aback at the familial term, but said as turned away into his room, "I will leave as soon as I outfit myself. After yesterday, I refuse to leave this house without my arms and whatever survival gear I can fit in my pack!"

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Estel sat on a grassy bank beneath a weeping willow whose branches trailed the ground all along the drip line. He loved to sit against the trunk and look out through the veiling leaves; the open space was cool and green and mysterious. It was like a special room just for him and one of his favorite places. He had a small pack with an immense lunch, packed by indulgent cooks with many treats made especially for the conference. He was just finishing a meat pasty which he was eating first, before any of the sweeter items provided. Ada would be pleased that he had eaten the 'good for him' part of his lunch. Thinking of his Ada made him a little sad; the conference had been going on for almost two weeks now and Estel had not seen nearly as much of his family as he was accustomed to. He understood that it was very important and that all these strange people would soon be gone, but for now he was a little lonely. He had already played his favorite games and was trying to think of a way to pass the afternoon.

The bank that Estel loved was an earthenwork construction intended to provide protection to the kitchen gardens of the Last Homely House. There were few tillable areas in the valley and this one was carefully maintained. Triangular in shape it nestled into the cliffs on two sides and was bounded by an elf-made ditch that was used to irrigate the small field on the third side. It drew water from the Bruinen downstream of the House and rejoined it a quarter mile beyond the garden. The banks were built up to keep flood waters out of the precious plot of dark, rich soil. It was an ideal situation with the only drawback being that the gardens were a few miles from the house and carts had to be employed to fetch the produce. The bottom of the ditch was ten feet from the top of the banks and on this day the water was placidly flowing about two feet deep. The ancient willow that Estel leaned against was itself leaning out over the ditch, sweeping the water and the further bank beyond with its graceful branches. Estel often played in this quiet hideaway since he was not allowed near the river by himself. The ditch water rarely came up even as high as his waist and was considered safe enough for a strong, agile child who swam well.

Estel finished his second pastry and drank a few sips from his small flask of water. He suddenly saw a small ripple moving toward him from the far bank. He held very still, though his heart pounded with excitement. He loved muskrats but they were shy creatures and he was rarely able to get close to them. He saw the small nose just barely poking through the water, creating the 'v' of ripples. It looked like the muskrat would climb out on the bank immediately below him. He held his breath as the little furry animal, looking like a miniature beaver, crawled out of the water and gave a vigorous shake. It sat up on its haunches and with complete contentment began to smooth and groom its fur. Estel tried to not even smile as the muskrat finished and sat in the sun with its paws resting on its little round tummy. After several minutes it began to walk along the water's edge until it reached the entrance to one of its tunnels. It gathered small amounts of mud in its paws and proceeded to work on the hole, patting and pressing the mud to repair it. When it had finished the first one, it waddled a few more feet and started to repair another. Estel watched until his eyelids began to droop. With a contented sigh he settled more comfortably in a hollow between two roots and fell asleep.

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Legolas jogged lightly on the paths through the woods leading to the water meadows. He kept an eye on the sky but there were as yet only large white clouds, though they had begun to roil and billow and gain height in the last half an hour. As the trees changed from oaks to river birch he saw glimpses of the Bruinen off in the distance flashing silver through the leaves. At last he broke from the trees altogether and loped onto the broad, flat meadow that bounded the river on one side. His feet squelched slightly for the ground surface was so close to the water table that it rarely completely dried out. Several weeks of the year the meadow was covered with a shining sheet of water. Towering cliffs contained the water on the river's other side and Legolas began to understand Elladan's words for a much darker cloud suddenly pushed past the cliff edge and seemed to have come from nowhere. The elf scanned quickly for a small human child, while calling the boy's name. The meadow was nearly ten acres in size and it took Legolas much longer than he had hoped to search enough of it to be sure Estel was not there. His glances to the sky were constant now, as the clouds darkened and began to join together. He felt a frisson of apprehension as he remembered Elladan's worry. He could not say he cared much for the human, but the thought of anyone so young out in a bad storm increased his speed to a real run for the first time. He was nearly finished searching when the first raindrop struck his hand. He quickly checked the last clump of bushes and reeds and began to hunt for where the path led out of the meadow to the south. The next place to look was the ditch by the kitchen gardens two miles from the meadow.

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When the first drops of rain hit the willow, they fell gently and merely lulled the boy into deeper slumber. The willow's leaves protected him and he was dry and warm, though a breeze had begun to pick up, and he murmured and rolled into a tighter ball.

A little later, the first rumble of thunder woke Estel and he looked around, quite surprised to find the light much dimmer and small drops of water hitting him occasionally as the willow's leaves began to be overwhelmed by the rain that now fell harder. He was not frightened, for he felt safe in his secret green cave. Besides that, he had begun to lose his fear of storms anyway now that he was nine and not a scared baby. He stood up and walked down to where the branches swept the ground and formed his hideaway. Parting a few of them he saw that it was raining quite hard. He thought of what Elladan and Ada would want him to do and decided he should stay where he was. He had no doubt someone would be sent to fetch him eventually and the meadow might already be covered in a few inches of water; it was so flat and waterlogged that the rain would not soak in or drain quickly to the river. He knew his father would not want him to cross it alone for in a heavy rain the water developed a dangerous current. He watched the beautiful patterns the rain made on the surface of the ditch water for a few minutes and then returned to his comfy spot between the two largest roots. He pulled out his pack and found another pastry. It was very nice and cozy in here with a snack and the rain pattering on the leaves and the ditch; he was quite enjoying it and hoped no one would come to find him right away.

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Elladan heard the first thunder and nearly left the meeting at once. He tore a fragment from the parchment in front of him and scratched a quick note. He beckoned to one of the apprentices standing quietly at intervals along the wall—messengers waiting to run errands. The young elf came forward to take the scrap to Elrond, several chairs away. Elrond read it, set it aside, and smoothly returned to the point he had been making. Elladan nearly squirmed in frustration and a warning glance was darted in his direction. After several more interminable minutes, Elrond concluded his thought and suggested a break for refreshments. Erestor led the delegations from the council chamber and Elrond turned to his impatient son. "You have had no word?"

Elladan tried to reassure himself as well as Elrond. "I would not expect them back yet, unless Estel was at the first place Legolas looked. And what can happen as long as Legolas is with him? I just thought you should know what steps I have taken, in case you wanted something else done."

Elrond paced slowly, pinching his lower lip between his fingers. "Elrohir thought the session he is moderating would be finished by now or shortly after; he does not have so much to cover as we do. If they are not back in an hour, he can go to search for them." He looked at Elladan and smiled. "There is really no reason to worry. There will be a lot of rain since the land is parched but there will be no damaging wind, hail, or even much lightning." He glanced at his hand meaningfully and Elladan nodded. "Even if Legolas does not find him, Estel will have sense enough to find some shelter and stay put until we go to get him."

"Father, I would rather I go now and –"

"No. He is not in _danger_ Elladan; the worst that will happen is he will get wet, which he does all the time on purpose, anyway. No, I need you here."

"But – "

"If I thought there was any, _any_ reason to fear for him I would go myself and set every member of the delegations searching as well!" He laid his hand on his son's shoulder. "Elladan. I know you feel responsible for him, more so than Elrohir whose love is less affected by events of the past. You take excellent care of him and he is fortunate to have you in his life. But he is no longer a terrified infant, traumatized by evil and death. We must loosen our grasp just a trifle; we must let him learn and grow, ion nin. This may be a good experience for him."

Elladan gave in reluctantly. "Very well, Ada, but in one hour –"

"Yes, in one hour we will send Elrohir. But by then he and Legolas will either be home or will have taken shelter somewhere. Perhaps the prince will feel more kindly toward our Estel if they spend more time together."

Elladan laughed a little. "Either that or they will be sitting as far from each other as they can with their arms crossed. Estel will be snorting 'Fake Prince!' every few minutes and Legolas will be saying, 'Annoying human child' right back at him!"

Elrond put a hand again on his son's shoulder, pulling him toward his seat at the council table. "Or that! They are well matched in stubbornness if nothing else!"

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Legolas stopped for the fiftieth time to sweep water from his brow and away from his eyes. He peered through what had become a downpour, hoping to catch sight of the banks that sheltered the gardens. He was disconcerted at how difficult it was to travel in such a hard rain when you do not know the territory. At home he would have been annoyed at the water that ran in a sheet down his face, but familiarity with every tree, rock, and slope in the terrain would have helped him to travel unerringly. As many times as he had been to Imladris, there were large areas he was unfamiliar with. He tended to stay in the familiar round of stables, the House and its gardens, the paths into and out of the valley, and the river and falls. He actually knew more about the land surrounding Imladris since that was where he and the twins went hunting for game or Orcs. He blinked again and thought he saw a mass darker than the surrounding gloom of the woods. He moved on slowly until he nearly stumbled against the bank protecting the fields. He climbed and was pleased to find a flat top with a well-traveled path. He walked along it calling loudly for Estel. He tried to dismiss the worry that he was feeling in earnest now, and concentrated on finding the boy.

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Estel had wrapped his arms tightly around himself as more and more water forced itself through the leaves above him. His teeth were chattering and he was no longer wishing his family would take their time to find him. He was wet through and his small boots slid in the mud as he tried to brace them against the roots. Then he heard a voice, but it was not his Ada or brothers or even Glorfindel. For just a moment terror gripped him as he feared that Orcs had forced their way into the Valley. Then he heard his name and relaxed—Orcs could not even _say_ Estel, let alone know that was his name in the first place! He shouted, "Here! I am here! Who is out there?" He scrambled to his feet and ran to part the branches, slipping and sliding. He kept from going down into the water only by holding tightly to the branches. The sight of the ditch tore his mind from whoever was calling his name. The water was much higher—nearly half-way up and swirling angrily.

He heard his name again, and again he replied. He saw a form come quickly out of the murk and also grab the branches to keep upright. He recognized the Prince but was more than happy to see him. "Your Highness! Have you been looking for me?"

Legolas let go with one hand and grasped the boy firmly, pulling him against his side. "Are you all right? Elladan sent me to find you."

"I am fine. Are we going to go home?"

Legolas, who had started to nod, paused. The water meadows would be rushing with water by now, and while no doubt the twins could have traversed them easily, he was not prepared to chance something happening to Estel. He looked at the tree that he grasped and smiled. "I think we will stay here. You seem to have found the best place for miles to wait out the storm."

"This is my secret place; you may come in if you want to. I have a little food left over from my picnic that we can share."

"I am honored to be invited into your secret place, and to break bread with you."

Estel pushed aside the branches and made his way to the ancient trunk. Legolas came behind him, a supporting hand at his back, and bowed to the tree. Estel watched wide-eyed as the elf moved forward another step and placed his hands against the deep ridges of the bark. His eyes closed and he became very still.

"What are you doing to my tree?" the boy demanded.

"I am speaking to it, thanking it for our shelter." Legolas turned to the boy but his face was troubled. "Is there somewhere else close by where we can wait? Another willow, perhaps?"

"No, they are all gone. This is the last one, the gardeners told me. They have not planted new ones because there are so many branches to clean up and the roots clog the ditches. Is there something wrong?"

"No, all is well. It is merely that this is a very old tree and he is very tired. I would not disturb him if he had younger kin close by. But do not worry, he is fond of you, Estel. Is this where you sit? It looks a bit damp, but then so are we!"

Estel and Legolas settled against the trunk and the elf accepted half of a somewhat the worse for wear pastry. Estel, of course, saw nothing wrong with it and bit deeply. Through the crumbs he asked thickly, "Were you really speaking to the tree?

"Yes, all my kin do so."

"No one in Imladris does." He said it flatly, as if that answered any possible argument about whether or not it was a good thing to do.

"All elves do so to a slight extent, but I am a Wood-elf and so it is natural to me."

"Glorfindel says if elves were supposed to live in trees, Iluvitar would have given them wings."

Legolas laughed. "Who did he say that to?"

"To my brothers' naneth's nanath."

"To Galadriel? I wish I could have been there to see it! That reminds me though, why do you call Elladan and Elrohir your brothers? They are not - they cannot be."

The small warm body which had relaxed against the elf now stiffened and pulled away. Legolas realized he had said something unfortunate but was not sure what. Surely the boy knew he was not an elf! Or did he? "Estel? Do you know there is a difference between you and the others in Imladris?"

A gruff voice answered him fiercely, "Of course I know that! I know I am not like them! I know it every day! They are elves and I am human." The voice trailed off sadly. "I wish I were not."

Uncomfortable, Legolas tried to find a happier subject. He thought of the fosterlings he had seen in the past in the Valley, and those in Mirkwood. He tried again. "Do you go to visit your parents or do they come to visit you? You must be very glad on those occasions when you can be together."

Estel said coldly, "My human parents are dead. Orcs killed them a very long time ago. Lord Elrond is my Ada now. He _is_ and Elladan and Elrohir are my brothers!" The child began to wriggle away from Legolas, filled with the nameless fear that haunted his dreams from time to time. "They _are_ my brothers! You do not understand!"

Legolas sat frozen for a few long moments, horrified at what he had done. Then he scrambled after the boy, reaching out and gathering him in his arms, pulling him against his chest. Estel was rigid and silent in his hold, though tears ran down his cheeks. "Aiyah, Estel! Forgive me! I am so sorry. I did not know about your parents. Please, I am so sorry. I am sorry for what happened to you, pen neth. I did not mean to hurt you, I swear it!" He rocked the now sobbing child and felt tears on his own cheeks. Such a brave young one, to suffer so much and still have a proud and loving spirit. Legolas stroked the dark, wet locks back and hushed Estel gently. He tried to think of something he could offer as a token of penitence to the boy. He began to speak quietly and seriously. "Estel, I seems I am a little like you. I lost my Naneth long ago, when I was an elfling. I know it is very painful and often very lonely to lose someone you love so much."

Estel raised his head and looked into the blue eyes. Even in the gloom of the storm, he could see how blue they were. And how sad. "You did? Elladan and Elrohir did not tell me that."

"They know about it, but they also know that I do not like to speak of it very much. So they would never tell anyone without my permission; that is why they did not tell you."

Estel whispered, "Was she killed by Orcs?" and his eyes were wide and filled with dread.

Legolas hesitated and then told the boy all he needed to know for now: "No, she had to leave for the Undying Lands. Do you know what that means?"

"I know it is a good place where everyone is happy all the time. Elladan's and Elrohir's naneth had to go there, too." He thought a moment and continued, "It seems we do not have much luck with naneths."

Legolas smiled gently in spite of their mood. "No, little one, it seems we do not." He sighed heavily, thinking of the grief that had taken the joy from two elven kingdoms.

After a few moments Estel reached up and stroked the elf's cheek tenderly. "I am sorry you lost your Naneth, too." Legolas felt something twist in his chest but shoved the feeling away. He would _not_ get involved with this human. The child had many people to help him with his grief; there was no need for another.

Estel was silent a long time, thinking hard. There were some things he was worried about and Legolas might be his best chance to find the answers to his questions. But he had said he did not like to talk about his mother. Still, Estel was becoming more worried with every passing year. He could not ask his family about his concerns since they always seemed uncomfortable when he spoke of his human parents. Not only that, but they could not answer the questions, not the way Legolas could if he would. So Estel sat quietly in Legolas hold until he had worked up enough courage to put his fear to the test. His voice, when he forced himself to speak, was the barest whisper. "Prince?"

"Yes?"

"Are you ever afraid that you will forget? Sometimes it is hard for me to remember what they looked like…I try so hard…"

The arms around Estel tightened convulsively and he gasped a little. At the sound, the arms loosened a bit but kept their hold. /You are breaking my heart, pen neth. How could I not see the pain that must ever shadow your eyes/ When he spoke, Legolas' voice was rasping and soft. "Do you know how old I am?"

Estel nearly protested this change in subject, but the elf's voice was somber so he answered, "No. You are an elf so you must be much older than I."

"I am much, much, older than you. I am hundreds of years old, Estel. And I have never forgotten my naneth. Never. Neither will you forget your parents. I promise you that. Sometimes it will seem hard to remember the color of their hair or some other detail that is unimportant. But you will always remember the most meaningful things about them. Did they love you?" He held his breath.

"Yes, I know they did and Ada tells me so. He says they loved me with all their hearts."

"Then you cannot forget. I _know_ this is so. Do you believe me?"

"Yes…Yes, I do…Thank you, Your Highness."

"Please, I am Legolas. Just Legolas."

"Then that is what I will call you." The dark-haired head nodded and drooped toward a suede-clad shoulder. "It is just as well…." The last word was swallowed in a huge yawn. "…you are not a very good Highness, are you? But I like you, so it does not matter." The boy snuggled his head into the Prince's shoulder and drifted off, worn out from the intensity of his feelings. The elf shrugged his shoulders against the venerable trunk to find a more comfortable position and listened to the relaxed breathing of the boy by his side, as well as the rain which finally seemed to be slackening off.

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End Chapter 3/6


	4. Deluge

Title: Mellyn?

Author: Pentangle

Rating: K+

Sequel to "Five Words in Winter"

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**Deluge**

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Legolas shifted a little against the warmth snuggled into his side, and began to slide into reverie. But at that moment he heard, no _felt_, something that brought all his senses sharply into focus. He then heard a groan from the tree at his back. Beneath him he felt something again: a movement. He set Estel gently aside without waking him and quickly went to look out through the branches. He saw several things at once that his mind struggled to assemble into useful information. The ditch had risen alarmingly and now had swirls of a light tan in the darker grey that indicated this water was coming from far upstream. Outside the valley the storm must be much worse. The rising water was pouring into a hole in the bank and Legolas' breath caught in his throat. He looked farther up the ditch and saw another hole, almost completely below the water line. Then he saw yet another, just beginning to let in water from the ditch. If that was a muskrat tunnel, the bank would be riddled with them! Behind him the tree cried out, warning the Silvan elf just as the branches Legolas held jerked in his hand and then dropped a foot. Legolas scrambled up the bank and grabbed Estel as the earth moved beneath his feet. _That_ was what he had felt before; the subtle shifting of soil beneath them as the water forced its way through the tunnels in the bank and washed the soil from beneath the tree. Already heeling over to start with, and weakened by advanced age, the tree was falling down the bank. Legolas had felt that the time of ending was close for the tree but had decided it would surely last out one more storm, especially since this one had little wind accompanying it. The muskrat tunnels had tipped the scale in the storm's favor, though, and the old willow was falling, its spongy, rotten roots unable to grip in the mud that now made up much of the bank beneath it.

Legolas spun around and hurled himself and Estel down the bank and into the ditch. His feet sank into the mud and the water was waist high. He heard a screeching, tearing roar and looked up to see the great trunk coming toward him. He thrust against the water, trying to gain the farther bank. Estel was screaming, frightened and bruised by Legolas' fierce grasp.

Legolas struggled through the water and started to clamber up the bank, but the high water had slowed him too much. He felt the first touch of fine branches against his hair and in desperation threw Estel from him with all his might. The elf's strength combined with the boy's light weight sent him flying over the top of the bank and tumbling down the other side. Even as the outward branches pressed him down, Legolas knew a moment of relief as he realized the bank would keep Estel from being crushed. Then the world fell upon him and he knew no more.

Estel rolled down the bank and came to a stop face down. He was winded and trying to understand what had just happened. Before he could draw a breath and put his hands beneath him to rise, he was stabbed by what seemed to be a hundred spears. He cried out and fought against the sharp points pinning him to the ground. Opening his eyes, he saw that it was not spears that held him but branches. He seemed to be in an incredibly dense thicket, and it took several minutes before he calmed enough to understand that the tree had fallen and while its trunk was kept from him by the bank, the branches were surrounding and pressing against him.

Estel was in pain, but since willow branches are very soft they bent slightly rather than piercing his body. He began to wriggle and force himself from his leafy prison. Suddenly he remembered Legolas and shouted to him for help. He received no answer and wriggled harder, digging in with his boots and grabbing long tufts of grass and weeds to help pull him along. He had to wind a very crooked trail to avoid the branches that were too thick for him to push aside. Finally, he was able to stand on his feet. He stood and trembled, feeling the many bruises he had incurred as well as the shock of the flurry of events that had overtaken him. He slowly struggled to the top of the bank and again called to Legolas. His eyes widened at the sight of the huge tree lying across the ditch. He remembered that the last he knew of Legolas was the elf throwing him into the air and now he understood why. His lower lip trembled as he realized there was no one to help him and Legolas might be hurt. He started to look for the elf, peering in the space beneath the trunk and looking with fear at the waters that were swirling even higher. At last he saw the Prince a little distance from the main trunk, looking like a doll someone had thrown away in anger, limp and still. He was partially covered by the tree, and Estel could not tell if he was badly injured.

Estel scrambled over, under, and through branches until he fell to his knees beside Legolas. The elf's hips were pinned beneath one of the main branches, and his legs trailed in the water. He lay at a slant on the bank so that while his legs were completely submerged, his torso was above the water line. The Prince's face was covered in blood which flowed sluggishly across his brow and one eye and cheek. Both eyes were closed and even in unconsciousness his mouth was tightened with pain.

Estel was breathing rapidly with a sobbing hitch that indicated he was on the verge of hysterics. He looked about with desperation and screamed for help, but no one came. After a time he came to the realization that if the Prince was to receive help, he must be the one to provide it. Unaware that the flowing blood that so distressed him spoke of life, Estel placed a shaking hand on the elf's chest and felt with relief the shallow breaths and beating heart. Now he gathered his courage and exhorted himself to think of all the times he had seen his brothers and others in the healing wing of his home. He pictured in his mind the healers moving about the beds and what they were doing. He heard his father's voice, crisp and confidant. Bleeding. That was first! He must stop the bleeding from the wound in Legolas' scalp. He carefully parted the hair with trembling fingers, fighting nausea, and saw a long but straight gash. Relief swept over him for he had cut himself in just such a way, although not so badly, only last year; he knew what to do though he was not sure how well he could do it. He and Elladan had been far from the House and his brother had braided his hair to hold the wound closed until his Ada could take care of him. It had hurt like fury, but Legolas would not feel it which Estel was very glad about. He was not sure he would be able to do what needed to be done if the elf cried like he himself had done. He had no clean water to cleanse the gash, so he began to braid the hair on either side of the wound tightly together. His fingers slipped on the bloody locks but if there was one thing a young human raised in a household of elves could do it was braid hair. He winced as he interlaced the braid as tightly as he could, imagining the tug in his own hair. He tied off the end of the braid with the hair itself and then waited, watching carefully. After a few minutes, he was relieved to see the scarlet trickle slow and finally stop. Next he took his belt knife, cut a small piece from his tunic and wet it in the water that was disturbingly close to the elf's chest. Gently he cleaned the blood and muck from the Prince's face.

Now that the elf did not make Estel sick to look at him, Estel's mind began to clear further. He worried that the tree was hurting the elf and grabbed one arm to try to pull him clear. He might as well have been trying to move the Last Homely House with a bootlace. It was hopeless; he would need help to get the elf free. At this thought he pulled off his blue tunic and began to slowly climb into the tree, testing each limb before he put his weight on it. He tried not to think that if he fell there would be no one to help him. It seemed very odd to climb straight up and yet be going _sideways_ through a tree. When the branches began to be too thin to support him, he spread his tunic over them hoping someone would see the bright color.

Estel climbed down even more slowly; down was always more difficult for some reason. When his mud-caked boots finally hit the ground, he scurried to check on Legolas. He put his hand against the elf's cheek and patted it gently. "Legolas! Can you wake up, please? I am a _little_ frightened and I wish you would wake up and keep me company."

There was an uncomfortable tickle in Estel's mind. He tried to catch hold of the thought that troubled him, yet it slipped and slid away. Then Estel realized that something was different about Legolas' clothing. He looked carefully at the leather jerkin, shirt sleeves, and vambraces that were all he could see of the elf, but they looked as they had before the tree had fallen. So what was wrong? The boy looked slowly up and down, side to side, over and over again. Suddenly he froze in horror as he realized that he saw fewer silver latchings than he had before. The water was rising toward the elf's chest!

Estel grabbed the arm he had lifted before and tugged with all his might. He dug in his heels until they slipped from under him and he sat down hard. Legolas still did not move an inch. Next Estel shook the head and pulled the yellow hair. He shouted and slapped the Prince. "Wake up! Wake up! The water is coming! Legolas! WAKE UP!"

Whether it was due to the tumult or not, the Prince groaned and opened one eye. So close to him that the figure was blurry, a small human was pulling, pushing, hitting, and shouting at him. Legolas was tempted to return to the darkness until the uproar died down. Estel had seen the eye though, and cried, "Legolas, it is me! Estel! You _must_ wake up for the water is coming higher and higher! I cannot get you free!"

The sheer terror in the voice called the prince to action and he tried to shake off both the pain in his head and the last wisps of darkness that wreathed through his mind. He became aware of cold, more pain, and a hard pressure across his hips. He remembered in a flood of adrenalin the falling tree, and he made an abortive attempt to get to his feet. Quickly understanding he was trapped and had at the least a broken leg, Legolas turned his attention to the frightened child beside him. He saw blood and scrapes on the face and more bloody splotches here and there on his arms and bare chest. "Estel, are you all right? Are you badly injured?"

"No! Legolas, you must _get out_, the water is coming!"

Legolas glanced down his body and realized his peril at once. He braced his arms against the bank and heaved with all his considerable strength. Agony lanced through his head and leg, but he moved not one inch. He tried again and again, finally falling limp and gasping to lie on the mud. He looked at the boy beside him, the light grey eyes wide with fear and desperate hope.

"Can you find a heavy stick that is sharp at one end? Maybe you can dig a little dirt beneath me and I can then pull free."

Estel did not even nod but spun around to search through all the broken branches around them. He had sense enough to know the stick would quickly break and so waited until he had found three before returning to Legolas and asking, "Where should I dig?"

"The tree and my body will protect you from the current. Do you think you can dig underneath my backside? The water will take away the dirt you loosen."

Estel stepped carefully into the water and moved to Legolas' hips. The water came halfway to his knees, and he reached down to feel where the elf's body was so that he would not hurt him. He grabbed his stick and slowly drove it into the dirt of the bank. The stick did not go more than an inch or two but Estel levered it downward to break loose a clod. He thrust in the stick again and again and when it broke, replaced it with one of the others. It was obvious to Legolas that it would take a very long time to free him this way; time that he did not have. But he said nothing to Estel and let the boy struggle on; there seemed nothing else to do.

When the first blood began to ooze between the fingers of the small hands, Legolas said quietly, "That is enough, Estel. Come up out of the water and sit beside me. If you huddle close to my shoulder perhaps you will feel a little warmer."

Even young as he was, Estel knew what stopping would mean. He shook his head and said stubbornly, "The water is still rising" and turned back to thrust the stick into the ground fiercely.

Suddenly, Legolas shot out a hand and grasped the boy's wrist. "Stop, Estel! I hear something!" Both boy and elf froze and prayed that help had come.

Far off a cry could be heard: " – e-e-e-l-l-l!"

Estel jumped up, crying, "It is Elrohir!" He scrambled back up to the top of the bank and pelted along it until he came to his brother. He slammed into the elf's body, and Elrohir's arms locked around him tightly. The elf started to make inquiries about Estel's condition but the boy broke in, his voice shrill with panic.

"Legolas is trapped! The water is coming higher and higher and he will _drown_, 'Ro! You have to help him!" As he spoke he was dragging his brother along the bank, back to where Legolas helplessly waited.

When Elrohir reached the place where the tree had fallen, even from the top of the bank he could see that Legolas was in a desperate situation. He did not pause to greet or question his friend but splashed into the water, leaned his back into the tree and shoved. As he had feared, the wood did not even tremble. He needed help and a lot of it. He looked around more carefully as his mind raced. He had few options. Realistically, only two: take Estel and go for help or leave him and go for help. If he took Estel with him, the boy would slow him drastically. Even if he carried him on his back, he would lose precious time. But if he left him…it was very possible help would arrive too late. If he left Estel behind, the boy might have to watch Legolas drown. As precious seconds ticked by, he made his decision. He would leave Estel here. He had to at least _try_ to save his friend, and he could not face the idea that Legolas might die such a death alone. Though he shuddered at the burden he had just placed upon his little brother.

Elrohir squatted beside Legolas and said bluntly, "I am going for help. Estel will stay with you. I will go as fast as I can, mellon nin." He paused, then said thickly, tears choking him, "Send him away. At the last…if…"

Legolas clasped his arm tightly. "I will. I will try to keep him from harm as best I can…Elrohir…you have meant so much to me – your whole family – thank you and tell them –" But Elrohir was gone, sprung away on flashing limbs, streaking toward the Last Homely House.

Estel remained on the top of the bank, staring after his brother and feeling very small and very frightened. He finally turned and slipped and slid back to Legolas' side. He stroked the hair that he now thought just the right color for a Prince of Mirkwood while tears silently snaked down his cheeks. After a few minutes he picked up his stick, but Legolas said gently, "That is not necessary now that Elrohir has gone for help; they will be here soon. Will you not stay and talk to me?"

"Is there anything I can do? Anything you would like me to do?"

Legolas smiled, "It is rather funny, considering the situation, but do you know what I would like most, besides being out from under your old friend?" Estel shook his head. "I would very much like a drink. Of water."

Estel smiled back, as Legolas had hoped he would. "I do not think you should drink the ditchwater!" Estel's eyes kept sliding from the elf's face to the water that inched up the elf's chest. It was now halfway up his ribs. Estel suddenly stood and to Legolas' amazement removed his boots and leggings. The boy wrapped the boots, laid side by side, in the leggings and then tugged at a lock of the blond hair. "Raise your head!" The elf obeyed and Estel pushed and shoved the bundle underneath, as far as Legolas' shoulder, so that Legolas' head was now held a few more inches out of the water.

Legolas smiled gratefully and again sought to tease Estel into forgetting the dreadful situation. "You are a very clever and naked boy, Estel. What will your family say when they see you?"

Estel pretended to think very hard. "Let me see…what will they think when they see me covered in mud, with hardly any clothes on…Nothing! They will not think a thing of it! Ada says I am like this more often than I am clean, but that is not true. I have been clean many times!"

The boy's righteous indignation made the elf chuckle. "I have no doubt of it!"

The two sat silently for a few minutes, and then Estel decided to clear his conscience, just in case, although he deliberately refused to think of just in case of _what_. He would simply say his piece. "I am sorry I said you were a fake prince. Erestor told me you are a real prince, and Erestor never tells stories when he has his serious face. So I am sorry I said so, even if you have no crown or fancy clothes or are as beautiful as Glorfindel or anything like that."

Legolas accepted the apology in the spirit in which it was given. "I thank you, Estel. May I say that it is partly my fault for being such a poor example of a prince? Perhaps when you take journeys when you are grown, you may then see a fancier prince."

Estel looked down at his hands and said in a small, gruff voice, "I do not want to see a fancier prince. You are a good enough prince for me." Then he thought of something and his head came up again. "Although I do not think that you should smirk when people get spankings!"

"Well, I do not think that you should _suggest_ that people get spankings when they have had a miserable afternoon in a swamp!"

"Sorry. That was mean."

Legolas just nodded; the pain in his body and the tension created by the creeping water made it hard for him to concentrate for long on what Estel was saying.

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End Chapter 4/6


	5. Little Braveheart

Title: Mellyn?

Author: Pentangle

Rating: K+

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**Little Braveheart**

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As the minutes wore on, Estel became restless. He tried fearfully to keep his eyes from the line of water that crept inexorably up the elf's chest. Now the wavelets occasionally lapped at the top latching of Legolas' jerkin. Estel began to pace back and forth, clenching his fists and pounding them on his thighs. Something terrible was going to happen. Something so dreadful he dare not think of it. But still it was coming and he could not stop it. Whether he thought about it or not the water would climb slowly over the elf's chin and mouth, then his nose, and then Legolas would die. Estel was a loving child; he would not want anyone to die unless they were a very, very bad person, and probably not even then—not for real. But Legolas was not anyone, he was an elf that in spite of himself Estel was beginning to like very much. And he was going to die. Right now. Right here.

Legolas opened his eyes to watch the child who was becoming more and more distraught. It was time to send him away. If Estel remained Legolas would try not to struggle, try not to leave the boy with images that would haunt his nightmares forever, but life was strong in him. He doubted he could force himself to drown quietly, even for Estel's sake. Once the water entered his lungs he would fight with everything he had; he would cough, choke, and struggle. He would thrash and gurgle. And then, perhaps worst of all, he would become motionless save for the ghastly sway of arms, hands, and hair in the current. He allowed himself one more minute to watch Estel, surprised at the feelings he had knowing he would miss seeing this child grow into a man. He believed now he had been wrong about him. This child had fire and courage and love. He had something in his eyes that made Legolas think that he had indeed found Mirkwood's Hope after all. It appeared he would not be there to see it, but the Dark would lose its hold, and this man would lead the fight. At that thought Legolas calmed. From the time he had bent his knee before his father, bow in hand, and sworn to place his body and blood between Mirkwood and danger, he had believed he would never live to sail. That death came for him this way instead of in battle could not be helped. But the Five Words in Winter had not misled him—whether he was there to see it or not, Mirkwood would survive and he had at least met and comforted the one who would save her. He drew a deep breath and called Estel to him as the first ripple moved over his chin.

The boy hurried to Legolas, tears running down his cheeks, and slid once more to his knees beside the elf. He put his hands on the elf's chin, trying to hold back the water, but Legolas gently pulled them away. "Estel, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything!"

"I need you to go down the bank to the place where the river birch grow, and wait for Elrohir there."

Dread clutching him, Estel whispered, "Why?"

"You can keep watch for them and lead them here."

"Elrohir knows this place well. He does not need me to lead him."

The water lapped over the elf's lips and he had to speak in between the wavelets. "Please, Estel - I need - you - to go - hurry." He coughed as water entered his mouth for the first time. Estel pulled hard on the elf's hair, trying to raise his head just a little more, but the neck was already strained upward. Legolas hardened his heart and shouted furiously, "GO! I order you to go! NOW!"

Estel sprang backward. He was not used to being shouted at, even when he was in a great deal of trouble. His Ada's anger was terrible to behold but it was cold and caustic, not hot and roaring.

"GO! NOW!"

Estel scrambled up the bank and paused again. He saw the water now covering the elf's lips and he turned and ran. Legolas gave a sigh of relief and then turned his thoughts to his imminent death. He thought the thoughts common to all at such times. He thought of words left unsaid, thanks not given, love not expressed. He thought of those who he knew would find the world darker and colder without him, especially his Adar. The water plashed up and over his nose and this time did not retreat far enough for him to breathe. He strained his head a fraction higher and took two more breaths, but his quivering tendons gave out and he soon fell back to his former position. The water was now up to his lower eyelids and he held his breath, though why, he did not know.

Estel was running but no longer crying. In spite of the situation he had left behind him there was a fierce determination on his face. He had thought of something; something that his brothers had said. His eyes roved frantically over the ditch and quickly found what he was looking for. Unfortunately, the water was so high that he could not wade as he normally would. He ran a little further upstream, drew a deep breath to steady his frightened heart, and plunged into the water, letting the current take him downstream to his goal. He grasped cattails in both hands as he was pulled into a large patch of them. He ran his hands down along the stems and finally had to take a great lungful of air and then pull himself even further down. He broke off one and held it tightly, then broke the other. He now had nothing anchoring him and again the current drew him through the reeds and into the open water in the middle of the ditch. The current was fast here and he was terrified, but not so terrified that he let go of his prizes. He lay on his back as his brothers had taught him and kicked his feet to steer himself to shore. Otherwise the stream would carry him past Legolas and he would not possibly get back in time.

Legolas was seeing spots before his eyes and chiding himself for staving off the inevitable when he heard Estel crying his name over and over. At first he thought it was delirium that made the voice come from the _ditch_ side of him rather than the bank. But he rolled his eyes over and was astounded to see Estel floating past him, very close but not touching. He reached out a long arm and snagged the child, who without any sound or even seeming to notice the elf, clambered over the submerged body until he was kneeling in his usual spot.

Estel still clutched one broken piece of cattail; he had lost the other somewhere on his turbulent journey. Putting one end to his mouth he blew gently. At the other end his palm felt a little air coming through the triangular channel of the thick stem. All he had left was a length of about ten inches and he quickly held it over Legolas' lone eye that remained above water. Legolas nodded his head and Estel felt for the elf's mouth and shoved the cattail between his lips. The prince allowed it into his mouth, along with a fair amount of water. He swallowed and began to draw on the cattail. A hard, cold voice in his mind commanded him to suck very gently lest he collapse the tube. It was the hardest thing he had ever done in a life filled with hard things, but he managed to draw slowly on the life-giving reed. Fortunately, he could exhale quickly through his nose, though he startled Estel badly when the first exhalation bubbled forth.

With iron control the elf forced himself to take in very little air when he wanted so very much more. Gradually, his distress lessened and he was able to relax his body, decreasing the need for oxygen and speeding his recovery. Eventually, he was able to grope about for Estel and catch his hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. The two, one sitting in and one nearly covered in water, trembled from reaction and spent a little while merely enjoying the relief they felt.

After a few minutes, Estel, not knowing how much the elf could hear, leaned close and shouted, "I am going back for more cattails. I will try to get longer ones this time." He started to his feet but the hand that released his darted higher and grasped his forearm very tightly. Estel struggled but could not pull free from the bruising grip. "Let me go! I must get more so that you can breathe until help comes!"

Legolas could not answer him but his grip tightened further until Estel was crying out. Legolas could not let the boy take such a chance again. It was a blessing of the Valar that he had caught Estel from the current. If the child had been a few inches farther away, the swirling water would have swept Estel far downstream, perhaps to the river or into dangerously surging debris.

In a frenzy Estel knelt again by the elf and began to pinch and bite the hand that held him so tightly. Under the water, Legolas swore in his mind like a drunken Easterling as he maintained his hold in spite of Estel's abuse. A shout from behind them jerked Estel's head around and again he leaned close to the water above one pointed ear. "Let me go! They are here; you will be safe! They are here!" Legolas' hand dropped limply and Estel scrambled up the bank yet again where he saw Elrohir and Elladan running toward him. He hurtled into Elladan's arms and sobbed with relief and reaction. "You came! Oh, Elladan, I have been so frightened! But where is everyone else? The three of us cannot move the tree!"

Elladan, some of his own anxiety relieved by the sniffling body in his hold, spoke soothingly, "There are many more coming behind us, with horses and ropes and tools. We will get him free very soon. But we ran ahead because we brought pipes for him to breathe through and because I was worried about a certain little brother of mine."

Elrohir, who had gone straight to Legolas now returned and said with glowing eyes, "Estel has saved him! He has already given him a way to breathe. We now have plenty of time to remove the tree. However did you think to use cattails, Estel?"

Proudly Estel raised his head. "I remembered the time when Glorfindel shouted at you for getting too close to those Orcs. He was angry because you hid in the water using cattails."

Elladan danced, twirling in a circle with intricate footwork. He swung a laughing Estel high up in the air as he sang, "My brother: little braveheart! Thy mettle true as strongest blade, thy thought as swift as arrow's flight!"

Elrohir laughed as well, but put a hand on Elladan's shoulder. "Later, 'Dan. We have much to do, and Legolas is completely under the water now. It can hardly be enjoyable for him!"

Estel sobered and said, "I think he is hurt, too. When he tried to get from under the tree he cried out very loudly."

Elladan set Estel down as the rest of the rescue force came up and over the bank. The boy felt a little bereft as he waited off to the side while elves roped, sawed, shouted, and at last moved the huge branch enough that Elrohir could drag Legolas from his prison. The prince promptly lost consciousness as he was placed on a litter between two horses, but his pulse was steady. Estel was grasped and tossed on the back of the first horse and so rode safely along the bank, through the flooded water meadows, and at last toward home. He wore the tunic of the elf that led his horse, with the sleeves rolled up and a length of rope to gather it at his waist. He struggled to stay awake as exhaustion rolled over him in waves. After Elladan saw his head nodding for the third time, he lifted his brother down and laid him alongside Legolas for the rest of the journey.

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Several hours later, Legolas lay in a bed in the healing wing. He was clean, dry, his broken leg had been set and the gash in his head sutured. He was badly bruised from navel to mid-thigh but his pelvis was not broken. He was also exhausted and had a bad cough caused by irritation to his lungs from the dirty water. He slept fitfully, dreaming over and over again of water pouring into his mouth and nose. Each time he screamed and woke, sweating and terrified, to find a warm hand on his brow and another pressing gently on his chest, urging him to lie back down. He sought to clear his muzzy vision to see who sat beside him but the drugs given him for pain pulled him back under and he slept again. Elladan readjusted the covers and trimmed the wick in the lamp next to the bed before making a note in his records and then continuing his watch over the royal patient. After several hours, Elrohir took his place.

The next day saw great improvement in the prince and when Legolas woke at mid-morning he knew where he was and what had happened to him. His legs felt very heavy and at first he thought that was due to the splints that he could feel ran from mid-thigh to ankle on his left leg. Then he realized both legs were pinned tightly by the covers and he looked down to see Estel sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, munching on an apple.

The boy swallowed a large bite and grinned at him. "Good! You are awake. Everyone said I must not make a sound until you awoke, but it was very hard to be so quiet. How do you feel?"

Legolas ran his mind through an inventory. His head throbbed and his thoughts were sluggish. Something on his head stung from temple to crown, his leg ached with the fierceness of newly broken bones, it hurt his chest to take a deep breath and when he did, a chorus of various other pains sang stridently. "I feel wonderful, Estel. And you?"

"Ada says I may catch a cold but my throat does not feel funny, so I hope he is wrong."

Just then Elrond himself entered the room and frowned at Estel. "Did you wake him?"

"No, I promise I did not! I just sat here eating my apple." He grinned wickedly. "My _loud_ apple."

The elf lord sighed and shook his head but Legolas noticed that a smile was ever trembling at the corner of his mouth, and that the looks he bent on Estel were so full of pride he was nearly bursting with it. Legolas said to him in a voice Estel had not heard from Legolas before, "Lord Elrond, the kingdom of Mirkwood is in your debt and in the debt of your son, Estel Elrondion. He has preserved, single-handedly, the life of the Crown Prince. Whatever he may ask will be given if it be in our power to give. Mirkwood thanks you for your attentions to my wounded body and thanks the young son of the House for my life."

The apple fell from Estel's hand and his mouth and eyes opened wide. "You – you really _are_ a prince!"

Elrond and Legolas laughed but Elrond answered seriously, "It is Imladris' pleasure to serve you as we may, Your Highness, and with all the comfort we can provide. We accept your thanks but deny your debt. It is Imladris and the House of Elrond that are forever in your debt for saving the foster son of the House."

Estel interrupted the boring back and forth of statecraft. "Did you say you would give me whatever I wanted?"

"Yes, Estel, I did!"

Elrond chided gently, "We do not accept presents for helping people, Estel, especially not our friends."

Estel turned and gazed at Legolas enigmatically, but said nothing more.

Elladan and Elrohir entered the room and soon everyone was sitting around Legolas' bed, catching up on all the parts of the story each one had missed through absence or loss of consciousness. When Estel told his family again how the tree had started to fall and how Legolas had thrown him clear, faces paled and fervent thanks were given. When Legolas told of Estel's raising his head, tying his wound closed, and bringing a cattail that saved him from drowning, the boy's family beamed and exclaimed. Elrond had heard much of this already from his patient but could hardly be faulted for wanting to hear it again.

After a time Legolas began to look a little white and pinched around his mouth and Elrond said his visitors must leave. Estel begged to be allowed to stay to watch the Prince and even the foremost healer of Middle-earth had to admit he had surely earned the right. He was told to fetch his father if anything about Legolas worried him and otherwise to let him rest. Estel promised solemnly to follow the instructions and a little to Legolas' surprise, did so. He would not converse with the elf but sat in a chair by the bed and read a text he was studying for his lessons with Erestor. Legolas wondered if he had offended the boy but he was very tired and soon dropped into a healing sleep.

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End chapter 5/6


	6. Mellyn

Title: Mellyn?

Author: Pentangle

Rating: K+

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6 MELLYN

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When next he awoke, Legolas' many injuries were well on their way to healing, and he began to feel more like himself again. He turned his head to find Estel still sitting beside him, though his book was forgotten on his lap as he stared pensively into the distance. Legolas asked him softly, "Why so thoughtful, little one?"

Estel jumped and turned to the elf, smiling happily. "Ah, you are awake! Would you like something to drink? I have some water for you - clean water!"

"That would be delightful, Estel."

Estel carefully poured water into a cup from a large pitcher on a side-table and handed it to Legolas, making sure he was strong enough to hold it. "Ada said you must not drink too much too fast, so you must sip it. There will also be a tray from the kitchen soon with some food."

"Thank you."

"May I sit on the bed?"

"Of course you may."

Estel wiggled onto the high bed and took up his position by the elf's feet. "What would you like to do?"

"Do? I do not imagine your healers will let me do very much at all, Estel. Would you rather go out and play? You have taken care of me very well, but now you should go outside and enjoy yourself. It looks like a beautiful day."

Estel shrugged. "I will stay here for a little while longer."

"Then, if you are going to stay, I have something to say to you, Estel."

The boy's mouth twisted, and he plucked the bedcover restlessly with his fingers. "When people say that it usually means I am in trouble or there is sad news."

"You are not in trouble, and there is no sad news that I know of. Will you come up here and sit closer to me?"

Estel crawled on hands and knees along the edge of the bed and sat at the level of Legolas' ribs, looking expectantly at the Prince.

"Estel, there is no way that I can ever thank you for what you have done."

Estel looked with his serious, grey eyes into Legolas' blue ones for several moments and then glanced away. "I do not think you should thank me any more. Ada is right; you are a friend to my family—I am glad I was able to help you. And you saved me first, after all."

Legolas looked closely at Estel's face, seeing something there that troubled him. "Estel, have I said something to make you unhappy? I wish that you would tell me if I have."

Estel began to pull off pieces of fuzz from the well-worn wool blanket. He watched his fingers carefully, as though the operation required his full attention. After a few minutes he asked, "What is it like, being a Prince?"

"What is it like being - ?" Legolas took a moment to catch up with the subject change. "Not very different from the lives of your brothers, I imagine. I am in charge of much of our defenses and most days I take out a patrol. When I am not doing that, I discuss kingdom affairs with my father or attend him while he negotiates treaties and such."

"So you have many people with you all day."

Unsure where Estel was headed, Legolas answered slowly, "I suppose I do, most of the time. I still find time to enjoy the woods of my home alone, though, as often as I can. Why do you ask, Estel?"

"No reason, 'specially." Estel slid his legs off the bed and landed with a thump. "I think I will go outside after all, if you do not need anything."

"No, little man, I need nothing right now." Legolas hesitated. "Are you sure there is not something wrong?" But as he spoke the boy's back disappeared through the doorway.

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Elrohir brought Legolas his breakfast tray the next morning, as well as the welcome information that the Prince could shortly return to his guest quarters for the rest of his convalescence. As he tucked into a large and delicious breakfast, Legolas spoke around a mouthful of omelet. "That is wonderful news, my friend. You have few patients at the moment, and if your healers do not have enough to go around, they take turns poking and prodding the few they do have."

Elrohir shoved the leg in the cast over to the side, and sat in its place. "It is because you are a prince, and the Prince of Mirkwood, no less. They want no lack of care to ignite a war with Thranduil."

"Very amusing." Legolas buttered a scone and looked up consideringly at his friend. "Elrohir, something is bothering Estel. Something about or concerning me. Do you know what it may be?"

"No...He was desperately worried about you when you were in the stream. Perhaps he is having difficulty dealing with how close you both came to death."

"Perhaps…Did you know he calls you and Elladan his brothers?"

Elrohir became very still. "That is because we are."

Legolas dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter. "I do not understand this! He is human! Certainly he is a kind, brave child, but he will be gone before you can turn around. I do not understand how you can – "

"Can love him? It was not a matter of choice, Legolas. Love is. It may not be summoned or sent forth. I know well of your kind and generous heart; I had thought that you would also…how is it that you were in his company the way you were without coming to…or is that it?"

"Is _what_ it?"

"You are afraid of him. You felt his hands—he is very gentle, is he not? You saw his tears—cried for your sake—saw his _love_, and you fear it."

"Do not be melodramatic. I do not fear him, nor do I love him. I am sorry if that angers you."

Elrohir rose slowly to his feet. "It is all right, mellon nin, not everyone in Imladris loves him. We try to protect him from those who do not as well as we can, for they can be quite cruel. I know you would never deliberately cause him pain, but I will ensure he does not pester you. I think that must be what is troubling Estel. He can sense that you do not return the affection he wishes to give you."

Legolas shoved at the tray on his lap, no longer hungry. "You are making too much of this. Of course I like the boy—he just saved my life! He could be a dwarf and I would like him! And everything you have said of him is true. He is kind, compassionate, very courageous, extremely intelligent, and can be quite charming. But if I care for him – " He broke off in confusion, then continued softly as though to himself, "I came here expecting something—I hardly know what—I knew he must be a child, yet he surprised me completely. Perhaps I thought he would be a miniature Huor, carrying a broadsword and a shield." Legolas chuckled at himself. "What I found was a little boy."

Elrohir sat back down. "Legolas, I have no idea what you are talking about. At all. You thought he would be a little _Huor_? You are surprised he is a little boy? What wild rumors did you hear in the gloom of Mirkwood, and why should it matter to you how old he was before you even saw him?"

Legolas debated within himself a moment and then said, "There is more, Elrohir. I cannot tell you everything, but it may be that Estel has a great destiny before him. It may be that he will save Middle-earth."

Elrohir jumped to his feet, fists clenched. "If you are jesting, you must forgive me for not laughing. And if you are not—then beware, for such words endanger his very life." He shot a glance at the doorway. "We do not speak of it except in my father's own chambers, and only a handful of us know. How do _you_ know and how many besides yourself!"

Elladan chose that moment to enter the room and saw an amazing sight. His twin stood at the bedside, pale as death and breathing heavily. The object of his ire—their best friend—sat staring at him, a tray beginning to slide off his lap. Elladan darted forward and caught the tray as the dishes began to slip along its smooth surface. "What is going on here?"

Without taking his eyes from Legolas, Elrohir ground out, "He knows about Estel. If he knows, half of Middle-earth must know. We must tell Ada at once."

"He knows -?" Again a sharp glance to the open doorway. Elladan spun around, saying quietly, "I will inform him." Still carrying the tray, Elladan left the room and started toward Lord Elrond's study.

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Two hours later, a tired Elrond rose from the chair that he had occupied while he, his sons, and Legolas had spoken of a little human boy and his destiny. The fingers of one hand kneaded the skin between his brows, and his mouth was set in a grim line, though it was much relaxed from the tight clench it had shown an hour ago. "I think we are all now satisfied that Estel's identity has not been compromised. You tell quite the tale, Legolas, one I have never heard in all my years in Middle-earth. However, I know you too well to doubt your word. I will speak with Mithrandir about this when next I see him, you may rest assured. Meddling old fool!"

The three younger elves flinched to hear the wizard they revered referred to in such terms. The twins exchanged cautious glances since they were well aware their father would never speak that way before others unless he was still very disturbed.

"As I have said –" The fatigue in the Prince's voice made it clear that what he was about to say had already been said many times. "– the rite is known only to the oldest among my kin. And even they do not actually _use_ it. There is no reason you would know of it. As for what you have told me about who he is, I promise that there is no force that could make me speak a word to anyone but the three of you. No, Elrond, not even my father. I will willingly swear blood oath if you require it."

The elf lord's mouth twitched ever so slightly. "I am confident that you will keep this secret without requiring dramatic rituals and general messiness." The twins breathed sighs of relief to see his humor return. "Now, I am afraid that my sons and I must leave you alone yet again. Yesterday was the last day of the conference and our guests will be leaving for home. A few left immediately following breakfast and the rest will leave after luncheon. After they have eaten we will be bidding them blessed journey as they depart." He sighed and rubbed his forehead a little harder. "For hour upon hour."

"Do not fret, Elrond, there are at least three bored healers within the sound of my voice. I expect that I will survive until your guests have gone."

The elf lord smiled and turned to go to his chambers for yet another wardrobe change. Elladan followed him, but Elrohir remained behind. He sat again on Legolas' bed and took one slender hand in his. "I am sorry for some of the things I said before, mellon nin. I know you would never harm my brother—in any way—because it is not in you to hurt any child. Estel has many people to love him; do not be aggrieved if you cannot be one of them. You will return to Mirkwood in a few months, and may not even see him above another time or two before he has left us to make his way. I do not wish this to cause a troubling between us."

Legolas squeezed the hand holding his and replied warmly, "I am ever your friend and a friend to Imladris. And it is good to know such a sad young one has a loving family. I am just sorry I cannot offer him as much as you would like me to. I came prepared to offer my protection and even allegiance to the one who will save our world, but I did not come to give my heart. Now go before your father accuses you of trying to avoid more ceremonials!"

At just that moment a messenger put his head around the doorframe. "Lord Elrohir, your father asks that you attend him at once."

Legolas and Elrohir laughed as Elrohir hurried from the room, waving his farewell behind him.

Legolas shifted down in his pillows and tried to find a comfortable position. The cast kept him on his back, and he dearly wanted to roll over. He flung one forearm over his eyes to dim the bright light of a sunny day and tried to fall into reverie. Again and again he nearly slipped into the trance-like state, yet each time it eluded him. Each time, as his eyes began to glaze, he heard a voice which pulled him back to awareness.

/ I did not come to vex you! I was _worried_ about you/ Legolas swore and reached back to adjust a pillow with impatience. He cleared his mind with determination.

/ I do not want to see a fancier prince. You are a good enough prince for me./ Legolas smiled in spite of himself, remembering the admission in its gruff little voice, then shifted his cast a few inches to relieve the strain on his hip.

At last he began to slip away, relieved that he would spend an hour or two in peace. Then the voice came for one last time. /Are you ever afraid you will forget?...I try so hard to remember…/ The elf whispered pleadingly, "Stop plaguing me…I do not want to care for you. Please…release your hold upon my heart."

When reverie claimed him at last, he wandered in a mist where a young voice called his name faintly and despairingly.

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When Legolas returned to awareness, a small body was once again ensconced at the end of his bed. He sighed heavily, afraid he would have to use cruelty to keep himself from the quicksand of involvement with Estel. The dratted boy was like a cocklebur; every time you thought you had pulled him loose, you found him clinging somewhere else.

Estel watched him with those serious eyes of his for some time before he spoke. "You have egg on your chin."

Legolas rolled his eyes in annoyance and took the handkerchief Estel held toward him. After removing the offending substance, he stared back at Estel. They locked eyes for long minutes but Legolas was not well-versed in the staring game and flinched first. "Well, have you some reason for visiting me, or did you just come to look?"

"There is no one to take care of you this afternoon. They are all outside, making speeches. Lots of speeches. I got bored and came to see how you are feeling."

"I am feeling very much better today, thank you for asking. Your – your father says I may go to my own room tonight and within a week this cast will be removed." He smiled apologetically. "Then I will not be so cross; I hate having to stay in bed."

Estel nodded his head vigorously, "I hate it, too! And it makes me cross as well." He continued to sit, just watching Legolas, although after a time the elf became convinced there was something on the child's mind.

"Estel, is there something you want to say to me? Or ask me?"

Once again small fingers began to pull at the loose threads on the blanket. Legolas by now recognized it for a signal the boy was having difficulty saying something that was important to him. He spoke very gently, "Estel? You may say whatever you wish to me."

The strange eyes, now silver, looked up from the covers and met with the elf's. "You have good eyes," Estel said. "I do not understand. Everyone that I know that has eyes like yours is very kind to me. I have tried to say I am sorry for not liking you when we first met, but you do not seem to…" He trailed off and his eyes dropped to watch both hands tear bits from the blanket.

Legolas swallowed. Now was the time to end this. A few words, spoken kindly but firmly, and the boy would leave him be. He would go from this room, find one of his family and cry a little, then he would stay away from the prince except for meals and other public occasions. It would be for the best in the long run; there was no point in letting the boy drag out his expectations this way. It would be cruel to do so when Legolas knew he could not give him what he desired. The elf drew a deep breath and opened his mouth.

But Estel had already begun to speak. "I would have liked to have a friend…"

Confound the child! "You have many people who love you: Elrond, the twins, and even Erestor, which surprised me very much! And many more, I am sure."

Estel once again met his eyes. "Oh yes, I know that! And I love them with all my heart. But they are my family: my father, my brothers, my tutors – I do not have any friends. There are not many elflings here, and the ones that _are_ here do not seem to want…and Ada says I must not be with other men children, for their parents may begin to ask too many questions. I am not sure about what, except I must never tell anyone about what happened to my human parents. I hardly ever see any children of men anyway, so it does not really matter…" Suddenly he spoke intensely, tears glistening in those maddening eyes. "Legolas, _why_? Is it because I am human?"

Legolas snatched at the statement; any reason would do to put an end to this intolerable situation. He said harshly, "Yes!" and gasped as he felt a sudden pain. He would call a healer—they must have missed an injury for something twisted in his chest.

Estel looked away again and started to slide from the bed. He was obviously choking back sobs as he whispered, "Then there is nothing else I can say, is there? No matter how I much I would like to be, I cannot be an elf. I know because I have tried to be many times."

It was too much. Legolas could not see a bird with a broken wing without feeling great pity, let alone this heart-broken child. "Estel, come back. Please, come back!"

Estel hesitated on his way to the door but did not turn around. "It is all right, Legolas. I will not bother you any more." Then he added softly, "Thank you again for saving my life and explaining about your mother."

Legolas groaned. Apparently the healers had not only missed a wound but the dagger that had created it, for he felt it twist again, harder this time.

Estel turned at the sound, his eyes wide and worried. "Are you sick?" He took two steps toward the bed. "Does your leg hurt you? I am sorry I sat on it yesterday."

Legolas beckoned with his hand, "No, I am fine, but I would really like you to come here since I cannot chase you all over the house. Please, Estel."

The boy slowly walked forward until Legolas could wrap a hand around his waist. Then the elf leaned over and gently pulled Estel up and over the side of the bed. He tucked him against his side, although Estel was stiff in his hold. He remembered the confiding warmth that had settled against him under the old willow and marveled at his blindness. And fear. Elrohir was right; it was not that he _could_ not love this child, but that he feared to. He put aside his own worries and concentrated on Estel. "We have had a terrible time, have we not? First, I was not what _you_ expected, and you were not what _I_ expected, and then before we could get to know one another and clear up our misunderstandings, we were in a situation that would terrify even Glorfindel. May I start again, Estel? I truly never meant to hurt you, as I see now I have."

One small hand tentatively reached for a larger, callused one and Legolas entwined their fingers together. With his other hand he stroked back the dark hair that hung over the tear-stained cheeks. "You must try not to mind that you are human, little one. I have known many elves and I have never known an elfling to be as clever and brave as you are. We are as Iluvatar has made us, and his reasons for making me an elf and you a human are wise and deep and far beyond our small understanding. I am glad that I met you, Estel, and not only because you saved my life."

Estel tightened his grip on the hand that held his and said softly, "If Iluvatar had a reason to make me a man, even though I have prayed to be changed to an elf, then I will try to stop wanting to be one. And I feel better since you say you will not hold it against me. But…"

Legolas braced himself. He knew what was coming, and he must make a decision and make it now, this moment. He would rather have a few yen to think about it, but it was not to be.

Estel continued. "But…I…I like you very much now. I would like…" He drew a deep breath, hesitant after his previous rebuffs. "I would like you to be my friend and I would like to be yours."

Time seemed to stand still for Legolas, and many scenes flashed before his eyes as the magic from the Five Words acted one last time. He saw himself in Valinor, where many joyous elves gathered at some celebration or other. But he walked alone beside the shore and wept. He saw himself bent over a man whose face he could not see, holding him tightly as blood seeped from beneath his hand where it was clamped to the man's side. He felt the cold terror of death, but it was not _his_ death he feared. There were other scenes as well, though. He saw himself at a coronation, his heart so full of happiness it could not be contained. He saw himself lying by a fire, shivering from the effects of spider venom. He saw a man's hand come into his vision with a cool cloth and heard a gentle command from a voice so trusted that he willingly yielded his stubborn spirit to a healing sleep. He saw a hand wearing a curious ring clasping his warmly. There would be pain, yes, but there would be joy as well.

Estel asked in a small, resigned voice, "Legolas?"

Legolas turned his head and met the glistening eyes of the little human beside him. He drew a shuddering breath and cast caution and fear to the wind. His voice was deeply serious as he said, "It is a hard thing for an elf to be friends with a man, Estel, but I _will_ be your friend."

Two arms flew around the elf's neck and strangled him as Estel whispered, "Thank you, thank you!" over and over into his neck. Legolas rubbed soothing circles on the boy's back and said while laughter bubbled inside him, "Nay, thank you, my _friend_ Estel, for not giving up on a stubborn elf who nearly refused a wondrous gift."

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Elladan and Elrohir stopped dead in the doorway of Legolas' room. Tears stung their eyes as they took in the sight of Legolas lost in reverie with his arm firmly clasped around Estel. The boy slept with one hand curled possessively around the elf's neck. Elladan said in a soft whisper, "I knew they would come to this, eventually. It is not possible that one as warm-hearted as Legolas could resist our Estel."

Elrohir gave him a jaundiced look. "He seemed to be doing fairly well to me. I wonder what broke through his resistance?"

"Does it matter? Hush - we should go, or we will wake them."

But the twins hesitated, still gazing on the two with relief and gladness. Legolas turned his head and his eyes focused on them slowly. Still half lost to the land of dreams he whispered somewhat defiantly, "He is not the least bit sticky."

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End "Mellyn?"

A/N

Muskrats are real animals that live throughout the Midwestern United States. They are cute but a bane to farmers because they cause ditch banks to collapse, often taking trees with them.


End file.
