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Chapter Text

A lithe figure stirred as the first rays of pale sun rose over the city, striking the balcony. A light breeze accompanied the rays, stirring the long golden hair. The figure reached up and tucked the stray strands behind his pointed ear with a slight sigh.

Another figure appeared in the doorway, pausing before coming forwards and leaning on the balcony next to the elf. The elf looked over.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "Isn't it, Aragorn?"

Aragorn nodded. "Aye," he said. "It is."

Legolas smiled. "Strange," he said. "There is no sound of armies nearing, or screaming, or the clashing of swords. It is…quiet."

"Aye," said Aragorn. "It is. It is very strange. But we have only been in the city for a few days, mellon-nin. We will get used to it."

Legolas shook his head. "You have been to Mirkwood, Aragorn," he said softly. "I have not been in a place of peace for so long that I can't remember. I have not stopped fighting for hundreds of years. This…all this, I don't think I will ever get used to it. I have spent the past hundreds of years fighting, with my bow and knives. To put them down now..." He sighed.

"I understand," said Aragorn. "I do. But you have been in places of peace before, have you not, mellon-nin? You have been to Imladris."

"Aye, but the visits became few and far between as the shadow deepened," murmured Legolas. "Besides, when was it that I actually visited Imladris and was not injured?"

Aragorn chuckled. "Do you remember when we first met?" he asked. "That was a…memorable occasion, I believe."

Legolas laughed. "Aye, I remember," he said. "You were…seventeen?"

"Sixteen," said Aragorn. "And thought I was a man grown."

"Aye," said Legolas with another laugh. "It was autumn then, wasn't it?"

"Summer," said Aragorn. "It had been raining a lot. And I cannot believe that my memory is better than yours, mellon-nin!"

0-o-0-o-0

"Estel."

There was no noise from the room, apart from a slight groan from the tangle of blankets in the middle of the bed. A loud knock came on the door.

"Estel!"

The groan was slightly louder this time, but still there was no other answer. The door to the room opened and an elf looked in.

"No, he's asleep, Elrohir."

The door was flung open with an annoyed shout of "Estel!" and the tangle of blankets in the middle of the bed stirred. Suddenly the blanket was pulled away by two elves, and the dishevelled person lying on their stomach groaned again.

"What…is…it?"

"Estel, you need to get up," said Elrohir, grabbing hold of Estel's arm and shaking him. Elladan strode across the room and threw open the wardrobe, searching for clothes.

Estel tugged his arm back, and reached futilely for his blankets. "Why?" he groaned. "It is early. I am tired. Let me sleep!"

"You need to be up, little brother," said Elladan, coming over and dumping a fresh tunic, leggings and boots on top of Estel. "Now, Estel."

Estel groaned yet again. "For the love of the Valar, why?" he asked, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Elladan pushed the tunic at him again, whilst Elrohir moved over to the window, throwing back the curtains to let the light in.

Elladan smiled. "Because, muindor-nin, we have just had word from the border patrols."

"Why?" muttered Estel, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his tangled hair. "What is happening?"

Elrohir looked over from the window. "Have you not been listening for the past week or so?" he asked in exasperation. "Get dressed, Estel."

Estel sighed and got up, splashing water on his face and then pulling on a fresh tunic and leggings. "Assume that I have no idea what is going on," he said. "That will make everything a lot easier."

Elladan rolled his eyes slightly. "Ai Valar," he murmured. "Legolas, Estel, do you remember us speaking of Legolas?"

"You mean Thranduil's son?" asked Estel. Somehow he knew that something was happening, but it had completely escaped his mind as to what. "What were you saying?"

"Do you honestly not remember?" asked Elrohir, handing Estel his boots and a hairbrush. "Legolas is arriving, little brother. Today."

"Actually, he is arriving about now," said Elladan. "Which is why you must hurry up!"

Estel grimaced, tugged his boots on and his nicer jacket, and then attacked his hair, trying at least to make it presentable. He envied his brothers for their long, sleek black hair that never seemed to become tangled, no matter what he had done as a child to it.

"I am done," he said, heading for the door. Elladan and Elrohir took one more look at him and, seemingly satisfied, opened the door and headed down the hallway.

"Keep up, Estel," said Elrohir over his shoulder, and Estel slammed shut the door behind him and jogged down the corridor to catch up with his brothers, all the time trying to stifle a groan. He had heard plenty of stories about Legolas from Elladan and Elrohir, but no matter how much they valued him, he was still not pleased with a prince who arrived early and disrupted his sleep.

0-o-0-o-0

Elladan and Elrohir walked swiftly down the corridors of Imladris, their faces bearing identical grins. Elladan looked over at Elrohir. "How long has it been?" he asked.

"Since Legolas last came?" asked Elrohir. "Too long."

Estel sighed, hurrying behind his two brothers and trying to smooth back the unruly black locks that were his hair. He hoped Legolas would not stay long. Judging by Elladan and Elrohir's excitement, he knew he would be shunted to the side all to easily if Legolas stayed for any length of time.

Actually, that might not be too bad.

It was not as if his brothers did not love him, thought Estel. They loved him, and he loved both Elladan and Elrohir fiercely, but sometimes they were too protective of him, too worried about him. He was sixteen now, nearly grown up. He had fought wild animals and even orcs before. Aye, he had been injured, but never badly, and Estel found himself irritated, sometimes, at the way his brothers tried to protect him and shield him. He wouldn't mind some time to himself.

Elladan and Elrohir sped up as they neared the courtyard. "I am glad Legolas finally managed to persuade Thranduil to let him leave Mirkwood, if only for a short period of time," said Elrohir. "That forest, even with the Necromancer gone, can be oppressive."

"He is also bringing news," pointed out Elladan. "After Mithrandir's tale, we have not heard much of the doings in Erebor and Dale. And I think Adar again knows more about the importance of such events than he is letting on."

Elrohir chuckled. "Do you remember the dwarves, Estel?" he asked the young man walking behind them. "That was a fun few days."

"Aye," said Estel with a grin. "I was ten at the time. It was the most fun I had had in my life."

Elladan laughed. "All I remember is a little child running around after the dwarves, constantly asking to look at their axes."

"Hey!" said Estel. "I actually got to hold an axe at one point."

"That was only because the perian Bilbo got it for you," said Elrohir with a grin. "You couldn't even lift it!"

"I could lift it now!" said Estel.

Elladan laughed. "I am sure you could, little brother," he said. "But please refrain from doing so right now. Legolas should be here soon."

Estel rolled his eyes behind his brothers' backs, irritated yet again, and tired on top of it all. Neither Elladan nor Elrohir noticed, for it was at that moment they reached the great doors opening out onto the courtyard of Imladris. Elladan pulled them open, and the three brothers went outside.

Glorfindel was coming down from the gateway as Elladan and Elrohir reached the courtyard. He smiled as he saw them. "They are coming," he said. "And I know Legolas is riding on his own, so that rules out that he is injured."

Elladan and Elrohir laughed. "Badly injured, at least," said Elladan. "We cannot rule out the possibility of minor injuries."

Glorfindel chuckled. "We will know soon enough," he said. "They are a few minutes out." He looked over at Estel. "You have not met Legolas yet, have you?"

Estel shook his head, and Glorfindel smiled. "Do not challenge him to an archery competition," he warned.

Estel frowned. "I can take care of myself," he challenged. "I would be able to hold my own."

"Against Elladan and I?" asked Elrohir with a chuckle. "Yes, you can hold your own. Against Legolas, the best archer in the Woodland Realm? I am sorry, muindor-nin, but you do not have a chance."

Estel glowered at Elrohir, but was stopped from saying something when a warm hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to see Elrond looking down at him.

"You need to sort out your hair, ion-nin," he said with a smile. Estel grimaced and frantically tried to flatten it down as Elrond moved over and had a brief conversation with Glorfindel.

Elladan smiled. "Here," he said, moving in and trying to take over the failing attempts to smarten Estel. Estel pulled away with a growl.

"I can do it, Elladan!" he groaned, flattening down his hair. Elladan held up his hands.

"Just as long as you don't look like you woke up a few minutes ago," said Elrohir with a chuckle. Estel rolled his eyes, but was interrupted from answering by the loud clear call of a horn, sounding out over the valley. Elrond turned with expectant eyes to the gateway of the courtyard.

Before long even Estel could hear the hoof beats of the approaching horses. Elladan and Elrohir stood there with blank faces, Elladan slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet. From what Estel had been told by Elladan and Elrohir, he understood the twins to be good friends with Legolas. He wondered why the elf had never come to Imladris before, at least not in the past fourteen years that Estel had been here.

Estel didn't really know what to expect, yet when the first horse cantered through the gateway and pulled to a stop in the courtyard, closely followed by the escort of Mirkwood warriors, he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.

The first rider was undoubtedly Legolas, judging by the reactions of the twins when he had appeared before the rest of the escort. Yet if Estel had not been able to read his brothers so well, and had he not known Legolas was blond, he would have had a hard time distinguishing between the Prince and his escort. Legolas wore the same dusty travelling clothes as his warriors, the same weapons strapped to his back. His horse was no different from the others, no smarter or better looking. The only difference was that Estel could see the handles of two knives poking up behind his shoulder, rather than a sword at his waist. But then he noticed half the warriors were carrying knives.

The Prince looked no different from his warriors either, not counting the blond hair. To Estel, he looked weary, his face ever so slightly drawn. His eyes were piercing silver-blue as they darted around the courtyard, coming to rest on Elladan and Elrohir, and a smile spread across his face.

Legolas swung down from his horse in one fluid movement, and Estel watched him curiously as he approached Elrond. The blond elf bowed, one hand over his heart. "Lord Elrond," he said in greetings.

Elrond smiled, placing a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "You are welcome, Legolas," he said warmly. "As always."

Legolas briefly turned behind him and spoke a few words to one of the elves that had arrived with him. With a smile, the other elf clapped Legolas on the shoulder, and then signalled to the rest of the escort. Imladris guards stepped forwards to offer assistance, and the courtyard began to empty.

Estel watched as Elladan and Elrohir looked at Legolas, their faces blank. Legolas merely smiled, and Estel grinned as first Elrohir, then Elladan, lost control of their expressions and large smiles spread across their faces. Together they suddenly moved forwards, barrelling into Legolas as they embraced.

Legolas laughed. "It has been too long, mellyn-nin!" he said cheerfully, returning the embrace.

Elladan and Elrohir pulled back, both of them looking over Legolas intently. "No injuries, I assume?" asked Elrohir with a smile.

Legolas laughed, and lifted up his arms. "Not this time," he said. His expression was so different from what Estel was used to seeing, much less schooled than that of the elves normally around him. As Estel watched him, Legolas' eyes flickered over and landed on him, and a slight frown appeared on his face.

Elladan looked up. "Ah," he said, realising Legolas' confusion. "Legolas, this is Estel, our foster brother."

Legolas regained his composure quickly at those words. He bowed to Estel, his hand over his heart. "Mae govannen," he said to Estel.

Estel bowed back. "Mae govannen," he replied. He stopped. He didn't really know what else to say to Legolas, but thankfully Legolas turned his silver blue eyes away from him and back to Elrond and Glorfindel, the twins standing either side of him, as Elrond spoke.

"Legolas, you know where your rooms are. And then once you are settled I would like news on Mirkwood. Thranduil's letter said he had some things he wanted me to know."

Legolas nodded. "Of course, my Lord," he said. Turning to Elrohir and Elladan, Estel watched as his expression changed, and was again surprised at the blond elf. Estel knew he was a Prince, but if he had not, he never would have guessed that Legolas was Thranduil's son. He seemed more like a captain than elven royalty.

The three elves turned to head inside, Elladan and Elrohir flanking Legolas. Elrohir caught Estel's eye as they went inside. "I don't know how long we will be," he told Estel. "Don't wait for us. We will see you at dinner."

Estel glanced up at the sky. It was barely noon, and he didn't think speaking to his father could take until dinner. He shrugged. Elladan and Elrohir probably wanted to catch up with Legolas. It didn't matter, so he smiled at Elrohir. "I will go…I don't know, practise archery maybe. I will see you at dinner."

Elrohir ruffled his hair affectionately. "Have fun, little brother," he said, before turning and running up the steps after Elladan and Legolas.

Estel rolled his eyes. He was far from little anymore.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Legolas took a sip from his wine, gently swirling the dark red liquid in the goblet as he leant back, resting his head against the headboard of Elladan’s bed. It had been a few hours since he had arrived, and he was weary. Thankfully, he had already spoken to Elrond and relayed to him what his father had told him to say.

Elladan and Elrohir leant back next to him, smiling slightly. “How long will you be here?” Elladan asked Legolas. “We never actually read Thranduil’s message. He did give you leave to stay, didn’t he?”

“Aye,” said Legolas. “Adar also sent more for some other reasons, rather than one of the other captains.”

Elrohir sighed. “What reasons?”

“Do I need a thousand reasons to come and see my old friends?” asked Legolas with a laugh. His smile lessened, and he sighed. “I took…took some injuries when in the south. They…” He grinned in slight embarrassment. “They were not treated properly, as we had no time. On return to the palace, I ended up spending four days in the healing wards.”

Elladan and Elrohir looked at him with exasperated expressions, and Legolas smiled. “In my defence, the wounds did not heal quickly because I had taken them in the south. But my father thought I may need some time away from the darkness in Mirkwood.”
He looked over at Elrohir and Elladan. “My father gave me permission to stay for a month. The escort will be returning tomorrow, but I will not go with them.”

Elrohir poured out more wine from the bottle on the side. Legolas sighed. “It has been too long, mellyn-nin,” he murmured, taking a sip.

“It has,” agreed Elladan. “How is Mirkwood?”

Legolas raised one eyebrow. “You were there when I informed your father of Mirkwood,” he said. “For quite a while, all we talked about was Mirkwood. Is there something I missed?”

Elladan chuckled. “No, but there is more to Mirkwood than border patrols and training the younger warriors,” he pointed out.
Legolas nodded. “I suppose so,” he said, taking another sip of wine. “Mirkwood is holding on. It is much the same as when you last visited, if a little less dark. There have been a lot of feasts recently.” He chuckled. “And you know how we love our wine in Mirkwood.”

Elrohir rolled his eyes. “Yes, we do,” he said. “I still remember the time we all drank too much and you managed to get us lost in the palace.”

Legolas raised one eyebrow. “I got us lost? If I remember correctly, you were the one to say you knew where we were!”

“He was drunk,” said Elladan. “We all were. I think you could have put us in the Shire and we still would have thought ourselves in Mirkwood.”

“True,” said Legolas. He laughed, his eyes merry, and both Elladan and Elrohir smiled at the sight. Legolas leant back in his chair, taking a sip from his wine. He looked over at the twins. “How has life been here?”

Elrohir shrugged. “It is the same,” he said. “Apart from Estel, now.”

Legolas looked curious. “I was meaning to ask,” he said. “Why do you have a mortal as a foster brother?”

“It’s complicated,” said Elladan, and sighed at Legolas’ irritated expression. “He was…the son of a village chief who was killed in an orc attack. We had known him well.”

Legolas’ expression softened. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Don’t be,” said Elrohir, taking up the story. “Estel was two years old at the time, and we felt that we owed his mother, the chieftain’s wife, a debt, so we offered to bring her and Estel here.”

“He has stayed with us ever since, and is like a brother,” said Elladan. “Adar rather took to him, and he is basically his son now. His mother is usually here as well, but she is currently away, visiting kin.”

Legolas frowned. “But he is mortal,” he pointed out.

“We are aware,” said Elrohir dryly. “But there was no option, not for us. He is our brother. Blood has nothing to do with it.”

“I am not disputing that,” said Legolas. “It is obvious you two care deeply for him.”

“He is brave, and has a good heart,” said Elladan. “Being mortal has nothing to do with any of that, we have discovered.”

“Aye, I know,” murmured Legolas. “I was at the Battle of the Five Armies. I saw men fight, just as fiercely and as passionate as the elves around me.” He looked up. “Have you been training him?”

“And Glorfindel,” said Elrohir. “He is good with a sword. Not as fast as an elf, but nearly. But he is still young, but a child.”
“What about the bow?”

Elrohir grinned. “Of course you would ask,” he said. “Yes, we have taught him to shoot. He is a passable archer, but he will be a better swordsman.”

Legolas grinned. “He is only a passable archer because he has had you two fools teaching him.” He laughed at Elladan and Elrohir’s expressions. “Give me two weeks,” he said. “I will teach him to shoot straighter than either of you.”

“He can shoot perfectly well,” said Elladan.

“You are just defending him,” replied Legolas. “Because he is your brother.”

Elrohir studied him. “You seem very accepting of this,” he said slowly. “After all, it is a strange thing to find when you visit Imladris.”
Legolas shrugged. “Mellyn-nin, I would expect nothing less of you two. Besides, he seems to fit in easily here in Imladris. But why Estel, meaning hope in the high tongue? Why the name? Surely that is not what he was named at birth?”

Elrohir and Elladan exchanged a quick glance. “It was Adar,” said Elladan quickly. “You know how sentimental he can become.”

Legolas nodded, but he wasn’t quite convinced. Nevertheless, the dropped the subject and the talk turned to other things. For a while they spoke of nothing much, of shared past experiences in Mirkwood and Imladris, of feasts and hunting and the times they had spent together. Eventually Legolas, refilling his goblet, spoke up.

“Are you two still hunting? And by hunting, I mean orcs.”

“Aye,” said Elladan with a slight sigh. “Though not often, not as often as we used to.”

“Having Estel around kept us here in Imladris a lot of the time,” said Elrohir. “I think when he was younger, our father used him to make us stay instead of journeying out with the Rangers.”

Elladan laughed. “We would be talking about going, about to pack, and then Adar would turn up with a young Estel in his arms and ask us to watch him, because he was too busy, or some other excuse. And then when Estel was older we spent a lot of time teaching him to fight.”

“Does Estel know about the hunting?” asked Legolas, taking a sip of his wine.

Elladan and Elrohir nodded together. “He does,” said Elrohir. “But I don’t think he understands. He has come out with us once or twice, but never when we are searching out orcs. He has been in battle, though, has seen orcs die, and has killed a very small number of them. He is no stranger to blood.”

“He first found out when he was ten,” said Elladan. “When we tried to go with the Dunedain for a few months, out hunting, and he turned up in the courtyard, his eyes big and round, asking us why we were leaving him.”

“And the quivering lip,” said Elladan with a chuckle. “I personally think Adar made him go to us on purpose, to stop us leaving. He knows why we go, of course, and before he has never tried to stop us, but I don’t think he wanted Estel to see us when we came home. You know how we look after a long hunt, especially if we are injured.”

Legolas laughed. “So you caved to a ten year old who was pouting?” he asked. “At least he is grown up now.”

Elladan shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “He is only sixteen.”

“There were young men around that age fighting outside Erebor six years ago,” said Legolas.

“And we are not in Erebor,” said Elrohir. “He is inexperienced, constantly trying to prove himself to us. The last thing we want is for him to get hurt.”

“Aye,” murmured Elladan. “We are not foolish. We know he will grow up soon, and will probably go and join the Rangers. Imladris, whilst safe, is not the place for a man to live. Estel needs to live among mortals, but not yet.” He smiled slightly. “He is still young, and if he leaves thinking he must prove himself to be a man, it could end badly.”

Elrohir sighed, and turned to look out the window. “The sun is setting,” he said. "We should-" As he spoke, the clear sound of a bell suddenly rang through the house, and all three elves got to their feet at the signal for supper.

Legolas was quiet as they walked down the corridors and hallways towards the hall where they were to eat, seemingly soaking in the peaceful air of Imladris. The hall was set for dinner, and the food was already there and waiting on the tables. Elrond was talking to Glorfindel, and as Elladan and Elrohir entered with Legolas, other elves were drifting in as well, taking their places at the table. Estel's chair was empty.

As Elladan and Elrohir sat down with Legolas, Estel wandered in, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he muttered, sinking into a chair. “One of the stallions got out of his pen.” He grinned wryly. “He didn’t want to be caught again.”

“Eat,” said Elladan, waving a basket of bread rolls under Estel’s face. Estel rolled his eyes and grabbed a roll, tearing into it eagerly. He looked around at the other dishes on the table, and reached for the plate of roast rabbit.

Legolas watched in amusement as the food piled up on Estel’s plate, before the young man dug into it happily. He turned to Elladan and Elrohir. “Do humans normally eat that much?” he asked, tearing off a piece of bread and smearing butter over it.

Elladan leant over the table and glanced at Estel. “Aye,” he said. “Though I think Estel is slightly hungry today. He was training for most of the afternoon, I think.”

“Aye, I would agree,” said Elrohir. “Judging by the speed he is eating.” He cleared his throat slightly. “Estel.”

Estel looked up, putting down his knife and fork. “What is it?”

“The food is going nowhere,” said Elrohir. “You can slow down.”

Estel glowered at him, but it was short lived. He grinned at his two brothers, and then turned to Legolas. “I am sorry,” he said. “I give the impression Adar has taught me no manners. He has, I just choose to ignore them when hungry.”

Legolas laughed. “That sounds like Elladan and Elrohir,” he said, ignoring the amused glares from the twins. “I have been in Imladris quite a lot, enough to have heard that one a few times.”

Estel looked up, a forkful of food on the way to his mouth. “How long have you known my brothers?” he asked.

Legolas paused. “How long has it been?” he asked the twins. “Five hundred years, more or less?”

Elladan nodded. “Maybe close to six hundred since we first met you in Mirkwood,” he said between mouthfuls.

Legolas turned back to Estel. “Six hundred, then,” he said. “But we only see each other every decade or so. I don't leave Mirkwood often. Have you been outside of Imladris often?"

Estel shook his head. "Apparently it is too dangerous," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I just wish Elladan and Elrohir would back off sometimes. They are quite protective." He reached for another plate of food and put some on his own plate, balancing it precariously as he looked over at Legolas. Elrond and Glorfindel were in conversation on the other side of him. In the corners a few elves sat with harps and lutes, and the soft music filled the room.

“Of course they are,” said Legolas. “They feel responsible for you. They are your brothers, aren’t they? Besides, they do the same to me sometimes.”

“Really?” asked Estel.

“I am a lot younger than them,” said Legolas. “They know I can hold my own in a battle, but when it comes to injuries, they never trust me.” He laughed and took a sip from his goblet of wine, raising an eyebrow at Estel, who burst out laughing with a snort.

“Of course we never trust you!” said Elrohir, catching the last part of their conversation. “Because you never, ever, tell anyone if there is a gaping hole in your side!”

“Or a gash on your leg.”

“Or a poisoned cut on your arm that makes you collapse.”

“Or-”

“I get it!” said Legolas with a laugh. “I cannot be trusted.”

“Hear that, Estel?” asked Elrohir. “You can trust Legolas to have your back in a battle. You can trust him to kill that orc behind you with his last arrow. What you can’t trust him to do is be truthful about his injuries. Never.”

Estel nodded. “I will remember that,” he said. He took another mouthful of food. “So what is it you do, as a captain of Mirkwood?”

Legolas shrugged. “I draw up and lead patrols, often with my second in command, Belhadron. I attend councils and train the younger elves who are to be warriors.”

Glorfindel leant over from the other end of the table. “That reminds me, Legolas,” he said. “I heard from one of the warriors of your escort about new training tactics you put in place?”

Legolas turned to him. “They were Belhadron’s, actually, but aye, we changed the routine for the older novices.” He began to talk quickly, and Estel zoned out slightly as they spoke of training regimes and weapons, and other things besides.

Estel watched Legolas out of the corner of his eye. Despite having woken up early, or at least, his definition of early, to meet the Prince, he found himself instinctively liking Legolas. The elf was, well, nice. Estel couldn’t think of another word for it. He had never met elves of Mirkwood before, and had thought Legolas would be serious, given the state of their home.

Yet Legolas was cheerful, laughing with Elladan and Elrohir, speaking animatedly to Glorfindel. It was only when he spoke of the injuries elves on his patrol had gained, or the struggles at borders, that Estel thought he saw a hint of sadness, or anger, in his face.
Estel suddenly realised what it was about Legolas that was different, as the blond archer laughed at one of Elrohir’s comments. The elf was simply more present. Elves in Imladris, Estel had found, were often distant, remote and beautiful, like elves are in the tales. Legolas was, in a weird way, closer to a mortal in that respect. Maybe because he was younger, or maybe because he lived in Mirkwood, and in those forests you had to live in the present or you would be killed, but Legolas seemed to be more near than most of the other elves he knew.

Elladan and Elrohir were similar, thought Estel, though far older than Legolas. But he knew that they spent a lot more time with mortals than most elves, hunting with the Rangers. They sought vengeance for the treatment of their mother at the hands of orcs, and Estel suspected that, much like Legolas, his brothers stayed in the present, or they would be killed. He also suspected that maybe, for all three of them the past was a little too painful to dwell in for too long.

Maybe that was why he liked Legolas, mused Estel. Estel had spent fourteen years of his life in Imladris, surrounded for the most part by elves. Legolas was different. Despite having, with the exception of Glorfindel, the most elven blood at the table, Estel felt he was more present, for lack of a better word, than any of them. More like a mortal, in some ways.

Anyway, those were just the rambling thoughts of a sixteen year old, and Estel shoved them to the back of his mind as Legolas turned to him.

“The twins tell me they were responsible for teaching you to fight,” he said.

Estel nodded. “Aye,” he said. “Though Glorfindel taught me a lot as well.”

“The bow?”

Estel shook his head. “That was Elladan and Elrohir.” He speared another piece of meat on his knife and brought it to his mouth. Ai Valar, he loved the food in Imladris.

Legolas smiled. “Good,” he said. “Because I would fear for my life if I insulted Glorfindel’s skills.”

Estel laughed. “So would I,” he said. “But you are not afraid of insulting my brothers’ skills, I take it?”

“Of course not,” said Legolas with a chuckle. “I know I can defend myself if they take offence.”

“Is Legolas belittling our shooting skills again?” asked Elladan.

Estel grinned. “Only a little,” he replied. He turned to Legolas. “They aren’t that bad.”

Legolas sighed. “You only think that because you have not seen any different,” he said. “There are no archers of Mirkwood here.”

Elrohir sighed. “He is right,” he said to Estel. “He does shoot better than us.”

“My thanks,” said Legolas with a smile. “But if we are being honest, your brothers are better with swords than I will ever be. I am an archer, not a swordsman.”

“Will you teach me?” asked Estel. “So I can finally shoot straight?”

Elladan and Elrohir laughed, and Legolas smiled. “Of course,” he said. “I will try and correct your brothers’…mistakes.”

“As long as you don’t try and teach him to climb trees,” said Elladan. “We had enough trouble with that when he was a child.”

Estel ducked his head, embarrassed. “I was young,” he protested. “I didn’t know any better.”

“Until you fell out of a tree and broke your arm,” pointed out Elrohir. “Then you stopped trying to climb trees too thin for an elf, let alone a child.”

“Too thin for a Noldor, maybe,” said Legolas with a smile. “Not a wood elf. We can be at home in any tree, anywhere.”

They continued to talk and eat until late into the night. Outside the sun has long since vanished behind the hills, and the stars shone overhead. Eventually the twins, Legolas and Estel moved out to the balcony, glasses of wine in their hands. Estel leant on the balcony, spinning his goblet idly in his hands, whilst Elladan and Elrohir sat together on the thick stone ledge surrounding them. Legolas eyed the ledge for a moment, before lightly vaulting onto the thin rail of the balcony, walking along it as sure as a cat.

Estel’s eyes widened, but Elladan shook his head. “He won’t fall,” he said reassuringly. “He didn’t even spill a drop of wine.”

“I wouldn’t want to waste it,” replied Legolas, walking calmly up and down the balcony, his footsteps silent. He stopped, looking out over the gardens of Imladris. Even in the darkness, the moon was full enough to illuminate the valley, and they could hear the river roaring through it.

Legolas paused for a moment, standing completely still on the balcony, perfectly balanced. If it wasn’t for his blond hair, almost shining in the light of the fire from the hall behind them, Estel would have found it hard to see the archer. He was dressed in dark, forest green clothes, and the lack of any cloak made him even stiller on the balcony.

Legolas sighed slightly. “Peaceful,” he murmured. “It’s strange.”

Elladan got up and leant on the balcony, next to Legolas’ feet. “I know,” he said.

Legolas looked down at him, one eyebrow raised. “You know?” he asked. “How can you-” He stopped himself. “Forgive me,” he murmured, taking a sip from his wine glass.

“Don’t worry,” said Elladan softly. “I know how it is.” He stood up and leant forwards on the balcony, on one side of Legolas’ soft boots as the blond elf stood on the balcony. “We both know how it is,” he said softly, glancing back at Elrohir.

“Aye,” said Legolas. He took another sip of wine. “How it is,” he said scathingly. “How it-” He let out a string of half muttered curses in a variety of languages.

Elrohir raised an eyebrow from where he was sat. “I didn’t know you knew how to say that in Khuzdul,” he said.

“The advantages of being in closer relations with Erebor,” said Legolas with a smile, but Estel noticed it wasn’t completely genuine.
“Well, don’t say it again,” said Elladan with a grin. “Estel is only sixteen.”

Estel scoffed. “I know as many curses as you,” he said. His brothers had probably been the ones to teach him all the curses he knew, though Glorfindel had proved invaluable whenever he was injured. Actually, thought Estel with a smile, he had learnt some of his most inventive curses when Glorfindel had broken his arm last summer.

“I doubt it,” said Elrohir. Legolas didn’t say anything, still looking out over the valley from the balcony, the wine glass in his hand.
Estel looked up. “Were you in the Battle of the Five Armies, Legolas?”

For a moment Legolas was so still Estel thought he had frozen solid. Then, with a small shake of his head, Legolas sighed and turned to look down at Estel. “Aye,” he said softly.

There was a moment of silence, before Legolas turned, still standing on the balcony. “I was there the entire time,” he said softly. “I fought in the valley in the battle.”

Estel looked up, and saw a sudden sadness pass over the elf’s face, like a shadow. Elladan looked up. “Mellon-nin?” he asked softly.
Legolas shook his head and smiled. “Many elves, many men and dwarves did not survive that battle. It was worth it in the end, for we defeated the darkness, but we paid dearly for it. We are still paying for it in Mirkwood. We lost many captains and many other elves. Almost every elf under the trees has been affected in some way.”

He smiled softly. “If the Eagles had not come when they had, if Beorn had not arrived, then maybe we would have lost. If they had been any later, then I and many others might be dead.” Legolas almost seemed to shake himself, and he looked down at smiled at the twins. “But that did not happen, and I am here. Yet you do not seem surprised by some of this news, when I was speaking to your father.”

Elladan looked up. “Mithrandir told us, when he passed back through with the perian,” he said. “Told us everything he knew.”
Legolas sighed. “Of course he did,” he muttered. He sighed again. “Forgive me, mellyn-nin,” he said, looking down at Elladan and Elrohir. “It was a long journey, and I cannot shake the conversation with your father.”

“What was it-?”

Elladan shook his head. “Not now, Estel,” he said. “And Legolas, come down from that infernal balcony. You cannot shake the conversation, but I cannot shake the feeling that you are going to fall. I would be much happier with your two feet on the ground, not the ledge.”

Legolas scowled slightly, but he jumped lightly down from the balcony and leant on it instead, in between Elladan and Elrohir. “I am tired,” he said softly.

“We know,” said Elladan, clasping Legolas’ shoulder. “We know.”

Estel backed off slightly as a whispered conversation began between the three elves, guessing the conversation now did not include him. Gently placing his half full glass of wine on the ledge, he left the balcony, exiting by a side door to go back to his room. He didn’t know how long Legolas and his brothers would be awake, but he knew if he was to do anything tomorrow he needed to sleep. That was one of the problems growing up in a household of elves, he thought with a wry smile to himself. As a child, he had never realised he needed to sleep a lot more than everyone else.

He reached his chambers and walked in, noticing with a smile that the fire was still burning. Building it up, Estel lay back on his bed, his mind wandering over the past day.

He liked Legolas, despite the fact he barely knew him. He seemed more similar to his brothers than any other elves he had met, and he loved his brothers. He wondered whether all wood elves were like Legolas. At times, he grasped maybe hints of how bad things had been in the past in Mirkwood, how things were becoming worse, and he wondered what Legolas had seen.
Estel grimaced as his neck cricked, and got up, taking off his more formal clothes in exchange for something to sleep in. He stoked up the fire before crawling into bed and sprawling on his stomach. He sighed.

He was sixteen years old now, and still his brothers saw him as the small child that had been deposited in their arms. He had noticed it again this night, though not as much. Estel grinned into his pillows. As much as he loved his brothers, they could be stubborn sometimes. Again another disadvantage of living with elves- he was a lot younger than all of them, all the time.
Estel slowly drifted off into sleep, whilst the fire spluttered in the fireplace and on the balcony, three elves talked late into the night.

Chapter Text

The next morning Estel woke up earlier than usual, or at least early for a sixteen-year-old mortal. He pulled his way out of bed, running a hand through his tangled, shoulder length hair, and winced as his fingers caught a snag.

He got dressed quickly, pulling on a clean tunic and coat, and splashing his face with water. Estel shook his head, trying to wake himself out, before opening his door and padding into the corridor.

He yawned again as he walked down the halls, running his hand through his slightly neater hair with a sigh. Crossing a hall, he passed Erestor on the way down. Erestor nodded at him, but his arms were full of parchment, so he kept walking. Estel grinned back, and continued on, when a thought stopped him and made him turn.

"Erestor!' he cried out, and the dark haired elf stopped, turning around to look at Estel.

"What is it?" asked the advisor, shuffling the parchment in his hands. "I don't have much time."

Estel shook his head. "I was wondering if you have seen my brothers," he said. "Or Legolas. He arrived yesterday."

Erestor sighed. "I can hardly keep track of all the stubborn young elves in this household, can I?" he asked with a smile. "I have not seen any of the young lords, Estel, thought I daresay Lord Legolas will be beating the Lords Elladan and Elrohir at the bow, if he has not done so already."

Estel laughed. "My thanks, Erestor. I shall check the training fields."

Erestor nodded. "Lord Elrond is in his library, if you want him," he told Estel. "I believe Glorfindel has ridden out again."

Estel turned to head through the archway leading out to the gardens. "Thank you Erestor!" he called out behind him as he began to jog down the wide stairs.

Erestor shook his head. "Young men," he muttered softly under his breath, but there was a smile on his face as he adjusted the scrolls and watched Estel run down the stairs. He turned and walked the other way.

0-o-0-o-0

Estel landed at the bottom of another flight of stairs, his feet hitting the soft ground and sinking slightly into the grass. He flicked his tangled long hair out of his eyes and yawned, his eyes adjusting to the brightness of being outside.

The sun was shining now, as it had been for the past few days, and the ground was starting to dry out. Estel grinned as he made his way along one of the paths, the overhanging branches of the trees waving as he passed underneath them.

He loved the gardens of Imladris. They were far more beautiful than anything else he had seen in his limited trips outside the valley. He loved it when, in the middle of summer, he and the twins rode out to the river and camped beside the waterfall for a few days, hunting and swimming and basically relaxing.

Yet Estel knew there was a lot more outside of the valley. He had studied with Erestor and Elrond the different realms of Arda, and he knew there was a whole world across the river. He had seen some of it, when travelling with Elladan and Elrohir. Yet he had not seen enough of it. He had never crossed the mountains, or journeyed down to the south, towards Moria and Lothlorien. And he wanted to go. He had not seen enough of the world.

He supposed that he never would see enough of it. He would never see all of it.

He jogged quickly down the paths towards the training fields, relishing in the stretch in his legs as he ran. Taking the steeper slope down to the flat fields below the house at a run, Estel grinned, his feet skidding in the wet grass, until the ground flattened out and he reached the fields where they trained.

Nearest to him was the part of the field where they sparred. The grass had long given up there, and the ground was bare and dusty. In the middle Legolas and Elrohir circled each other warily. Elrohir was spinning his sword in one hand, and Legolas was holding a sword as well, which left Estel puzzled. The elf had ridden in with two knives, not a sword.

Elladan was standing at the side, leaning against an archery target. Estel jogged over.

"Good morning, Estel," said Elladan softly, not taking his eyes off Legolas and Elrohir.

Estel leant on the other side of the target. "How long have you been out here?" he asked. He noticed a neat pile of weapons at the bottom of the target, including a sword that he recognised as Elladan's and a dark wood bow, almost gleaming in the morning sunlight, which he assumed was Legolas'. Next to the bow was laid a quiver, and two long knives, their white handles etched with gold. Estel recognised the handles from when Legolas arrived.

Elladan frowned. "Since first light, I think," he said. Estel jumped slightly as he heard the clash of steel on steel and turned to watch as Legolas and Elrohir began to fight.

His eyes widened as he kept watching. He had never seen two elves spar like this before. It was brutal. They were moving so quickly, it was hard to keep track of each elf's movements, but Estel was pretty sure neither of them were holding back at all. He winced as Legolas, identifiable by his blond hair swinging around his shoulders, used the hilt of his sword to slam Elrohir in the arm, hard, before kicking out at Elrohir's side.

Elrohir hardly seemed to notice it, and jumped backwards, light on his feet. His sword flashed in the light as he spun it around, yet at the same time he kicked up dirt and dust from the bare ground, aiming it at Legolas.

Estel's eyes widened even more. He had never seen Elrohir fight like this- it was ruthless. He expected Legolas to stumble back as the kicked up dirt flew towards him, or at least lower his defences, if only for a second.

Instead, Legolas shut his eyes, and Estel watched, slightly in awe, as the archer ducked and spun, his sword flashing out and meeting Elrohir's, even with his eyes closed. He turned to Elladan in slight surprise.

"I have never seen Elrohir fight like that before," he said. On the field, Elrohir ducked Legolas' swing and kicked him, hard, in his side. Legolas rolled with the blow and came back up, his sword smashing into Elrohir's.

Elladan grinned and shook his head. "We don't often spar like this," he said. "This is…more brutal. No holds are barred."

Estel winced as Elrohir kicked Legolas' legs from under him and the archer landed heavily on his back, rolling away swiftly as Elrohir's sword came down and kicking dirt back at Elrohir. "It is brutal," agreed Estel softly. "That had to hurt."

"No more than it would hurt if it happened in a battle, little brother," he said. Estel rolled his eyes and Elladan chuckled. "That does not become you, muindor."

Estel grinned at his brother. "So why are you sparring like this?" he asked. "This is never what I have done with either of you."

"It is dangerous," warned Elladan. "Which is why Elrohir and I don't often do it. We don't want to risk it, in case we have to go out hunting the next day. But now Legolas is here, we have a chance. Legolas does this more often than we do." Elladan winced as Elrohir fell backwards, Legolas' sword narrowly missing his shoulder. "That was close," he said.

"Who will win?" asked Estel.

"Who do you think?"

Estel frowned, watching the fight in front of him. "I don't know," he said. "I have never seen Legolas fight before, and I have never seen Elrohir fight like this. It's so different from what you trained me to do. What do you think?"

Elladan watched the fight with narrowed eyes. "Legolas has done this more," he said. "In Mirkwood, they fight like this more often, because out in the forest, it may be the only way to survive. The older warriors train like this. And in battle…" Elladan grinned at Estel. "You have never seen a wood elf in battle, Estel, not one of Mirkwood. They will hold nothing back." He chuckled. "Yet Elrohir is better with the sword."

"You are biased," Estel pointed out.

"I know," said Elladan with a laugh. "But it is true. Elrohir is a swordsman above all. Legolas, first and foremost, is an archer. After the bow come his knives." Elladan pointed at the two knives leant against the base of the archery target they were leant against. "Legolas doesn't usually fight with a sword, though. He has trained to fight with one, of course. In Mirkwood, they have to be able to fight well with every weapon they have. But Legolas is not a swordsman. And that means Elrohir has an advantage."

"But then Legolas has an advantage as well," pointed out Estel. "If he fights like this more often, then he has some advantage over Elrohir."

"I know," said Elladan. "So it should be a fairly even fight. We will have to wait and see."

The two of them, elf and man, fell silent as they watched the fight continue. Soon both Legolas' and Elrohir's tunic were sticking to them with sweat as they fought. Estel winced as Legolas used the flat of his sword to cut Elrohir's legs from under him, and the dark haired elf hit the dust again. Elrohir rolled over and got halfway to his feet quickly, swinging his sword up and blocking Legolas' blow. They stayed like that for a moment, Elrohir on one knee, his sword above his head, and Legolas pushing down, the steel glinting in the sunlight.

And then suddenly Elrohir dropped his sword down and rolled, scrambling to his feet as Legolas pitched forwards, only just regaining his balance. But Elrohir kicked out with one leg, his foot landing on the back of Legolas' knee, and Legolas' leg buckled, bringing him down to the ground again. Legolas twisted, falling on his back and twisting Elrohir's sword away, but Elrohir pushed back and Legolas' sword went wide.

Elrohir's sword came to rest lightly on Legolas' neck. Legolas became perfectly still, the sword resting on his pale skin.

And suddenly Legolas swore, a mixture of words from Khuzdul and Westron. Elrohir laughed as the blond elf pushed the point of his sword away from his neck, and held out his hand.

Legolas grinned. "Was this payback for last time we sparred?" he asked, grasping Elrohir's hand and pulling himself to his feet. Elrohir laughed again and nodded.

"Aye," he said. "I owed you." He brushed some of the dirt off Legolas' shoulders and they moved over to where Elladan and Estel were leaning against the archery target.

Estel grinned as Elrohir walked over with Legolas. The blond elf was limping slightly, favouring the leg where Elrohir had kicked his knee out from underneath him, and Elrohir was moving slightly stiffly, rolling his shoulders as he talked with Legolas.

Estel grinned at Elrohir. "Not bad, brother," he said.

Elladan laughed. "Not bad at all!" he said. "That was more brutal than I have seen in a while."

Legolas shrugged, and then winced slightly. "This is why I don't fight with a sword," he jested, sheathing the blade and leaning it against the archery target. "I get beaten. Every. Single. Time."

Elrohir and Elladan laughed, and Legolas grinned at Estel. "I am no swordsman," he explained. "Against an orc, I could hold my own, but against one of your brothers…?" He shook his head.

"It was close, though," said Estel. "Elladan said you fight like this more often?"

"Aye," said Legolas, grabbing two waterskins from amongst the piles of weapons and passing one to Elrohir. He took a long drink. "We, meaning the older, more experienced warriors, fight like this sometimes. And then in battle…" He grinned ruefully. "There are a lot of skirmishes on our borders sometimes." He took a long drink from his waterskin. "Your turn, Estel?" he asked.

"Not a chance," said Elrohir and Elladan at the same time. Elladan elaborated. "It is too dangerous."

Estel sighed in annoyance. "I can look after myself, muindor!" he exclaimed. "I am not a child."

"It is still too dangerous," said Elrohir. "Especially against Legolas. Wood elves don't stop at using dirty tricks that will put you on your back. Why don't you spar, knives against sword? It would be good practise for you. You have never fought anyone who is as adept with knives as Legolas is."

Elrohir laughed. "Do you remember the first time we both sparred with you, mellon-nin?" he asked Legolas, who laughed. Elrohir turned to Estel. "You will find that, whilst wood elves are not as strong as, say, Elladan and I, they are a lot faster, and will not be afraid to use dirty tricks to win."

Legolas chuckled. "They are not dirty tricks," he said. "It is merely good fighting." He leant against the archery target. "You have to do whatever you can to stay alive, Estel, when fighting in a real battle. If that means fighting…more brutally, then it is what you do." He smiled softly.

Elrohir sighed, pushing his black hair back from his sweaty face. "You certainly made me work for that win," he said jokingly to Legolas. Legolas laughed.

"Do it again, and if I have my knives, I will make you work even harder." He reached down to drop the waterskin back on the floor, and Estel frowned when he saw a darker stain on the side of Legolas' sweat-soaked tunic.

Legolas looked up, noticing Estel's frown. "What is it, Estel?" he asked.

Estel grabbed Legolas' arm and turned the blond elf sideways, pressing one hand lightly to his side. His fingers came away sticky with blood. "You're bleeding," he said in surprise.

Legolas cursed under his breath, his hand going to his side. Elrohir grabbed hold of the hem of the tunic and tugged it up. "I don't think I caught you," he said, the worry in his voice evident. "There wasn't blood on my sword."

Legolas grimaced and shook his head, pulling his tunic up and off. "You didn't," he said, balling up the tunic and pressing it to his side. "This is the old wound I took in Mirkwood, in the south."

"Let me look," said Elladan, gently pulling away the tunic. He hissed slightly, his long pale fingers gently pressing on the wound. "It's not too bad."

"I know," said Legolas, trying to look down at the wound. Elladan grinned and shook his head.

"Keep still," he said. "I can't tell if…"

"What is it?" asked Estel. "What wound?"

Legolas tried to look over at Estel without moving his head. "I took a wound in the southern forests of Mirkwood about a month ago," he told him. "We didn't have time to treat it properly, and wounds taken in the south are always worse than ones taken nearer home."

"Aye, you say that," said Elrohir, watching Elladan examine the wound. "Yet it is simply an excuse, Estel. Never trust Legolas when it comes to wounds."

"Aye, I know," said Estel with a grin. "You told me already. Anyway, what happened?"

"I spent four days in the healing wards when I returned home," said Legolas with a wry grin. "It has healed slowly."

Elladan shook his head, stepping back slightly and wiping his bloody hands on the grass. "And you have made it worse," he said. "It's not too bad, though. You have just opened up one end of the wound a little bit. It shouldn't need stitches or bandages."

Legolas sighed in exaggerated relief. "So I don't have to explain to your father what happened?" he jested. He pressed the balled up tunic to it lightly. "I think it's stopped bleeding."

Elladan looked at it. "Aye," he said. "But no sparring."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Of course."

Estel looked over at the wound on Legolas' side as the archer looked over at Elrohir and grinned. A long jagged gash extended from halfway down Legolas' ribs to across his abdomen. One end was torn slightly, and was bloodied, and though it was fading and healing well, it was still visible. Estel whistled.

"That must have been painful," he said, raising his eyebrows.

Legolas shrugged. "It wasn't actually deep," he said. "And the blade wasn't poisoned. It was painful, but not too bad." He smiled at Elladan and Elrohir. "So no more sparring today?"

"No," said Elladan. "I don't want any blame to fall on me if you suddenly collapse." He pointed over at Estel. "You are my witness," he said. "I did not recommend Legolas doing any type of physical activity after finding out about his wound. Just in case he does try something and nearly bleed to death."

Estel laughed. "What about archery, then?" he asked. "As Legolas cannot spar, maybe he can correct some of your appalling teaching."

Legolas laughed at Elladan and Elrohir's expressions. "Aye," he said. "Let us see what damage your brothers have done. Do you have a bow?"

Estel cursed under his breath. "I forgot it," he said. "I left it behind when I came down."

"No you didn't," said Elrohir, reaching down behind a stacked quiver and pulling out Estel's dark wooden bow. Estel took it.

"Thanks," he said with a grin. He reached down and picked up a quiver, slinging it over his shoulder and swiftly buckling the straps. Legolas gingerly touched his side, and then, reassured that the wound wasn't bleeding anymore, pulled his tunic over his head again.

"Let's see how bad your brothers' training has been," he said with a smile, walking over to Estel, who had turned to face the other archery target at the opposite end of the field. Elrohir scoffed.

"He can shoot, you know," he said jestingly. "You have seen both of us shoot. We are not as bad as you make out."

"I am pretty sure I did once save your sorry self with a well-aimed shot," pointed out Elladan. "When I killed the spider behind you."

Legolas grinned. "Aye, but that was only because I was busy killing the three spiders behind you," he retorted. He turned to Estel.

Estel grinned and moved to reach for an arrow. "Wait," said Legolas. "Your quiver."

"What about it?" asked Estel, rolling his eyes.

Legolas stepped in front of him and tugged on the straps, before boosting the quiver up and shifting it on his back. "That should be easier," he said. "The quicker you can get an arrow, the quicker you can shoot." He stepped back and to the side. "Draw."

Estel reached back and pulled out an arrow, fitting it to the string. He brought the bow up and aimed, narrowing his eyes in concentration. The smooth wood of his bow slipped slightly under his sweaty fingers, and he readjusted his grip on the bow.

Legolas watched critically. "Raise your elbow," he said. "Relax your bow arm." He grinned. "Don't forget to breathe."

"Of course," muttered Estel sarcastically, but he drew in a deep breath anyway. Legolas' eyes flitted over him once more before nodding.

"Remember that stance," he said. "Don't forget it. Now shoot."

Estel sighted the target and released the arrow. It flew straight, hitting the target with a resounding thwack. Estel shaded his eyes and saw it had landed on the outer edge of the bull's-eye. He shrugged. "Not bad," he said, with a grin at Legolas.

Legolas smiled back, finding it hard not to like the young man in front of him. "Draw again," he said. "Remember the stance."

Estel's hand went back and found another arrow, fitting it easily to the string.

"Release."

The arrow flew straight from the bow, but Estel barely had a chance to see where it had landed when Legolas nodded and spoke again.

"Draw. Release."

Estel's hand shot back and found an arrow, this time fumbling slightly as he fitted it to the string as he tried to hurry. He raised the bow, sighted, and shot.

"Again. Draw. Release."

Thwack.

"Again. Draw. Release."

Thwack.

"Watch your stance. Again."

Thwack.

"Relax, Estel." Though Estel was not taking his eyes of the target, he could just tell Legolas had rolled his eyes with the last comment.

"I know," he said, with a roll of his eyes of his own.

Legolas grinned. "If you know, then do it. Again. Draw. Release."

Estel's hand shot back to find another arrow, and in a fluent motion he fitted it to the string, sighted and fired.

Thwack.

0-o-0-o-0

Estel grinned. "Even for a mortal, you have to admit that was good."

Elladan and Elrohir both rolled their eyes at the same time, making Legolas chuckle in amusement. "It was good," he said, looking around him at the remnants clay balls littered around the field.

Estel stooped and picked up half of a shattered ball at his feet. He tossed it up in the air, catching it easily with one hand. "I still don't think it was fair when you threw one straight at my head, though," he said.

Legolas laughed. "Just wait until you are in a nest of spiders, and have to try and shoot them," he said with a chuckle. "You will think I was far too easy on you."

"You were a lot nicer than Glorfindel," Estel pointed out as he shouldered his bow and joined his brothers and Legolas in picking up the remnants of the clay balls that Estel had been shooting at.

Elladan snorted. "Of course he was," he said. "You will find out, Estel, that Legolas is actually a big soft elf at heart, not the fearless warrior that he is often made out to be. You may be disappointed."

Legolas laughed. "Then you will be to blame!" he jested, picking up a clay ball that hadn't shattered and throwing it over to Elrohir. "You two are the ones who have told him about me." He turned to Estel. "It is all their fault."

Estel laughed. "I know," he said. He picked up the last clay ball that was salvageable, the other ones having been reduced to dust by his arrows. "What now? No, wait, I know the answer to that one already."

Legolas frowned, and Estel grinned. "Lunch."

Elladan and Elrohir both threw their hands up in despair. "Estel, there is more to life than food!"

"Aye, but without food life doesn't last very long, now, does it?" said Estel with a grin. Legolas laughed at that, and Elladan and Elrohir sighed as one.

"I give up," said Elladan walking over and picking up the weapons where they had been left. He handed Elrohir's sword to him, and then passed over Legolas' quiver, knives and bow. "But Adar will be angry if you raid the pantry again. You are too old for that."

Now it was Estel's turn to sigh, and throw his hands up in annoyance. "First I am too young to spar, because it is too dangerous, and now I am too old to even raid a pantry!" He glared at his brothers. "Anyway, I know that is hypocritical, coming from you two. You both take food out of the kitchens when you feel like it."

Legolas laughed at this, as Elladan and Elrohir tried to protest. "He has you there, mellyn-nin," he said with a chuckle. "Do you remember the time in Mirkwood when we managed to get into the wine cellar?"

"I do," said Elrohir. "That was not funny in the slightest."

"It was," countered Legolas. "At least, until my father found out. We were with Belhadron that time, weren't we?"

"Aye," said Elladan with a smile. "I remember being with Belhadron that night. Why was it you made him your second all those years ago?"

Legolas shrugged. "I trust him with my life," he said simply. "And even more than you two, when it comes to dealing with my father. You two are just as likely to run off and leave me, as you are to stay. Belhadron has nowhere to run to." His tone was jesting though, and the twins laughed.

"That is true," conceded Elrohir. "If your father is involved. Anything else, you know we have your back."

"I know," said Legolas softly. He smiled. "It is near noon, I think. Estel can go and eat his fill."

Estel laughed. "I will never be full," he jested.

"Aye," said Elladan. "Not until the household has been stripped bare and there is no food left in Imladris."

Legolas and Elrohir laughed, but Estel made a face and shouldered his quiver. "Are you quite finished?" he asked. "I am hungry."

"Aye, we are ready," said Legolas with a smile. He shifted his quiver up on his back, and then winced slightly. Estel frowned.

"Is your wound alright?" he asked, coming over and grabbing the hem of the tunic to pull it up. Legolas sighed.

"Not you as well," he said. "I am fine."

"What?" said Elrohir, his head whipping round from where he had been talking to Elladan. "What did you say?"

"He said he was fine," said Estel. Elladan and Elrohir both came over.

"Are you sure you are alright, mellon-nin?" asked Elladan, grabbing the hem of the tunic and pulling it up to reveal the wound.

Legolas batted his hands away. "I am fine," he said in exasperation. "I am-" He stopped when he saw the grins on Elladan and Elrohir's faces.

"I give up," said Legolas, rolling his eyes. "I truly give up. I don't even know why I stay around you for so long sometimes." Elladan laughed and pulled Legolas' tunic back down with a tug.

Estel laughed. "At least you can escape back to Mirkwood," he jested. "I am stuck here. I have been for fourteen years." He reached the edge of the field and began to walk up the paths heading in to the house, Legolas and the twins behind him.

Elladan shifted his sword on his belt as he walked up the steep slope. "We should go out tomorrow," he said suddenly. Estel stopped suddenly and Legolas nearly crashed into him.

"What?" asked Elrohir.

"I said we should go out," said Elladan. "Ride out, spend a day or two outside the valley. We haven't ridden out for a while."

"There is that clearing about a days ride out of the valley," said Estel. "Where we went, the first time I went hunting."

"Orc hunting?" asked Legolas as they reached the top of the path and wandered towards the house.

"Deer," said Estel. "But I remember the clearing well. We spent three days out there, I think, in the middle of summer." He grinned as he reached a courtyard leading inside. That had been a fun few days. He had been around thirteen, and Elladan and Elrohir had been going to go out hunting, orc hunting, this time, until he had asked to go with them. He still remembered the sad pup eyes he had pulled when they had told him they were leaving, and he had been allowed to go out with them, hunting deer.

It had been the first time he had been out hunting, though he had been outside the valley occasionally. But for three days it had just been him, Elladan and Elrohir together, just him and his brothers. Finally bringing down a deer on his own had been good, even though a part of him had felt still slightly queasy when Elladan and Elrohir taught him how to gut it and skin it. But the best part had been in the evenings, when there was a fire crackling, and the stars were overhead. He and his brothers had lain awake and talked late into every night, and Estel had loved it.

Now he was older, and was almost as experienced as his brothers when it came to hunting deer. Orcs were another matter. He had fought them before, a few times, when he had joined warriors from Imladris and his brothers in riding out to one of the villages of the Rangers who were attacked by orcs. He had killed orcs. And yet his brothers still saw him as a child.

Still, a trip out with his brothers and Legolas would be fun. "We should go," he said abruptly. "It would be fun."

"Not orc hunting," said Legolas, with a warning glance at Elladan and Elrohir. "Deer, maybe. Or we could just do nothing."

Elladan and Elrohir both nodded at Legolas. "No orcs," they said in unison. Estel rolled his eyes at that, assuming that they were trying to be the big protective brothers again. And now Legolas was joining in. He turned down a corridor.

"I am going to get lunch," he said. "Right now. I am too hungry to wait."

Legolas grinned. "We will catch up with you," he said. "I want to change out of this bloody tunic first." They watched Estel disappear down one of the hallways of Imladris.

Legolas turned to Elladan and Elrohir. "No orcs?" he questioned, raising one eyebrow.

Elladan sighed. "No orcs," he agreed. "I think Estel misunderstood that, though. You shouldn't have said anything whilst he was here."

"I am sorry," said Legolas. "But I thought he knew about the hunting?"

"Aye, he does," said Elrohir. "But as we said before, he doesn't understand. He has never really lost anything to the creatures. He is too young to remember his father, his real father."

"His real father?" asked Legolas curiously. "Who was he?"

"One of the Dunedain," answered Elladan, and if his answer was a little swift it went unnoticed by Legolas, who was busy checking to see if his old wound was still bleeding. "Like I said, we owed him."

"So Estel has been hunting with you before?" asked Legolas as they made their way up inside.

"No," said Elrohir. "He has been out fighting orcs with us, but he was well protected then, and it was not hunting. We would not let him see that."

On this, as on many other things, the twins agreed. Estel was not to see them hunt orcs the way that they did. When they were hunting, when they were fighting against the orcs and the darkness, then what they were doing felt right. It felt like they were doing what they had to do to survive, to keep going and to protect others.

It was only after the fighting stopped, when they paused to take all of it in around them that they felt almost disgusted at what they did. They actively sought out danger, sought out orcs, in order to satisfy some need for vengeance. Yet it was so much more than that, so much harder to explain, and neither of them wanted Estel to see what it was that they did. Estel, with all of his irritation and annoyance at his brothers, still looked up to them, still thought they could do nothing wrong. Elladan and Elrohir didn't want to disappoint him.

So this they agreed on. Estel was not to see them hunt. Not now, not until he was old enough and scarred enough, able to craft a good enough mask to understand what it was they did and why they did it.

Legolas watched the unspoken conversation between the two brothers. He knew he would never be able to understand most of what passed between them, though he could read both brothers well enough to grasp some of it. And now he knew enough to turn the conversation onto different matters.

"How much food will we have to pack?" he asked with a chuckle. "I did not realise how much young men could eat, and Estel seems quite able to strip Imladris' pantry bare."

Elladan and Elrohir both laughed. "We will take enough for the four of us," said Elrohir. "And then if Estel finds himself hungry, he can hunt for his own food. He knows enough to be able to do that."

Elrohir chuckled slightly, and turned to Legolas. "If you manage to put up with him for the entire trip, I shall be surprised. We have spent fourteen years learning to ignore the irritating quirks that come with Estel. Consider this outing a crash course in our little brother."

All three elves laughed at that

"Aye," said Elrohir. "You can get to know Estel better."

Legolas chuckled. "It is strange," he said. "I already know quite a few mortals. I know Bard fairly well, as he is now King of Dale, and I know quite a few of his soldiers and men. Yet Estel is different."

"He is younger, maybe?" asked Elladan, as they turned to walk towards the part of the household where the chambers were, so Legolas could change his tunic.

"I don't think so," said Legolas thoughtfully. "At times he just seems different. Like when he was shooting. He seemed more…" He laughed. "I don't really know what I am saying. There is just something different about him. Something more…" He shook his head. "I can't put my finger on it."

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances. "Probably because he has grown up here," said Elrohir quickly. "He has never really known anything else apart from Imladris."

"You are probably right," said Legolas. He grinned at the twins. "I can see why you are protective of him," he said. "Even if he is a mortal." He saw Elladan's frown and held up his hands. "Peace!" he said. "I meant nothing by it. I have nothing against mortals. But I have seen how quickly they grow up and grow old."

"I know," said Elladan. "In just fifteen years, he has grown from a young child to nearly a man. And he has grown fast, with the amount of food he eats."

"Yet you will see it doesn't matter," said Elladan. "I think you will come to love him like we do, Legolas. It is hard not to."

Legolas shrugged. "I do not doubt you love him, mellyn-nin," he said softly. "But I have only known him for a day." He laughed slightly. "Give it some time."

Elladan chuckled. "Come, you need to change out of this bloody tunic before our father sees you and insists on seeing the wounds. You know he will look at you with that stern gaze if you appear to be injured, until you let him look at the wound. It's not like he can stop us from going, though."

"Does he still not approve of you hunting?" asked Legolas as they made their way up the steps, stepping back into the shadows at the top to avoid Erestor and Glorfindel, walking across the hall in conversation.

Elrohir sighed. "I think so," he said. "He has never liked us going out searching for orcs, though he understands why we do it. He fought in many wars, after all, and I think he knows we need to do it, sometimes. But I think he has always been worried about us coming back injured, or worried about…worse things."

"Aye," said Elladan softly. "I think Adar worries about what might happen to us if we continue hunting for too long. Glorfindel has always been more…understanding about it. He's been through so much, it would be impossible for him to not understand it, if not fully."

Legolas nodded. "And after all, your father has more callings than just a warrior. Glorfindel is only a warrior, really. It is what he is famous for, after all."

Elladan sighed. "This talk is all becoming rather morose," he said with a small smile as they rounded the corner and reached Legolas' guest chambers. "Is there any way we can hold off on this when Estel is around? Despite having lived with elves for the past fifteen years, I still don't think he realises how old we can be."

"Of course," said Legolas with a chuckle as he entered his room and retrieved a new tunic, tossing the old one down on the bed. He slung his weapons down on the bed as well, though more carefully than he had done with his shirt. He put on the tunic and straightened it, making sure his wound was not bleeding again. He looked up.

"Lunch?"

Chapter Text

“Estel!”

The voice rang out over Imladris, a bird spiralling up from the rooftops at the shout. Another voice joined the first one.
“Estel! Hurry up or we will leave without you!”

The two dark-haired elves laughed as their shout echoed around Imladris, and the doors onto the courtyard were flung wide open. Another blond elf, standing by his horse, chuckled as a young man sprinted headfirst down the steps, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

Estel grinned as he jumped down the last few steps, swinging his pack over his shoulder. “I’m here,” he said. “And you two aren’t even ready to leave yet.” He pointed at Elrohir’s pack at his feet, and the pack of food in his hand.

Elladan laughed. “But it was worth it, little brother, to see you nearly fall over your own feet in your hurry.” He took the pack of food from Elrohir’s hand, and as his brother began to pack the last things into his pack, Elladan turned and tossed the pack of food behind him.

Estel watched as it soared through the air, and was sure it was going to hit the floor. At the last minute, Legolas, who had been watching with a smile on his face, stepped forwards calmly and caught the package squarely in one hand. He laughed.

“You have to try better than that, Elladan,” he said with a chuckle. He moved his horse forwards and chucked the pack of food back at Elrohir. Estel slung his pack over his shoulder and headed over to where his horse was standing. Snagging the reins in one hand, he led his stallion over to the other three elves.

“Here,” said Elladan, passing him another pack. “Medical supplies.”

Estel rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that slightly overprotective? Again?”

“Do you think Adar will let us leave if we do not have that pack?” asked Elrohir. “We will not go anywhere if that pack is not tied very tightly onto your saddle.”

“Why not your saddle?” asked Estel with a grimace as he tied the pack onto his saddle and tugged at it to make sure it was secure. A blanket was already rolled up and tied behind his saddle, and his horse turned and nudged at the pack as Estel looked over at the twins. He chuckled and pushed his nose back as he raised one eyebrow at Elladan. “Well?”

Elladan chuckled and tapped the pack already tied to his saddle. “I already have my supplies, muindor,” he said. “So does Elrohir.”
Estel turned and looked over at Legolas, who was standing and absent-mindedly stroking his grey horse’s nose. “So much for being ready,” he said. “You don’t even have your saddle yet!”

Legolas raised one eyebrow and smiled. “Who said I was using a saddle?” He grinned and his horse snorted, as if indignant. He only had one pack slung over his shoulder, along with his quiver and weapons, and his horse had a blanket over its back, with small packs tied to each side. But there was no saddle, and not even a bridle.

Estel frowned slightly as Legolas murmured something in the Silvan tongue, something that Estel could not understand nearly as well as Sindarin. His horse snorted again and then stood perfectly still as Legolas vaulted up onto his back. Legolas touched his horse gently on the neck, and his horse moved forwards, coming around Elladan and Elrohir’s stallions and standing in front of Estel.
Estel’s frown deepened. “Even Glorfindel rides with tack,” he said. “Surely you cannot go without?”

Legolas shook his head. “I am a wood elf, Estel. None of us ride with tack. And our horses are so surefooted in Mirkwood, we never need it.” He laughed. “You should try it sometime.”

Estel laughed. “I did once, when I was younger. The horse took off and jumped the fence, and I fell off and broke my arm. I ride with a saddle and bridle now.”

Legolas laughed softly. “It is easier, in Mirkwood,” he said. “It means if we need to move warriors quickly, we do not have to spend time putting on a bridle or a saddle.” His gaze tightened slightly. “We have to be ready at a moment’s notice.”

Estel frowned as he saw the slightly far-away gaze on Legolas’ face, and the way he absent-mindedly fiddled with the straps holding his quiver to his back. But his gaze was drawn away when he heard footsteps coming from inside the household, and he looked up to see his father and Glorfindel descending the steps. By the time he glanced back to Legolas, the blond elf was merry again, talking and laughing with Elladan.

Elrond smiled as he came to stand in front of the three younger elves and Estel. “How long will you be gone?” he asked, his voice quiet, though instantly all four of them stopped talking.

“A day or two,” said Elladan. “We are heading out to the campsite outside the borders, so we will ride for most of this day, spend a day or so in the clearing, and then take the shorter route back.”

Glorfindel frowned. “The shorter route should be alright, if it doesn’t rain. The river is already swollen there, and there is no ford.”
“Aye, we know,” said Elrohir with a smile. “We need to leave soon, if we are to get to the clearing before dark.” He slung his final bag over his horse and put his foot in his stirrup, springing lightly into the saddle. Elrohir and Estel followed suit.

“Be careful,” said Elrond as they wheeled their horses around to face the path leading away from the household. Estel laughed and looked back over his shoulder. Elrond stood shoulder to shoulder with Glorfindel, the latter’s golden hair lit up in the morning sunlight.

“Do not worry, Adar,” he said cheerfully. “We will be back before you know it.”

“I’d prefer not,” said Glorfindel dryly. “It will be peaceful for a day or two, with all of you gone.”

Estel laughed again, and at a shout from Elladan and Elrohir, he pushed his horse on and followed the three elves as they rode out of the courtyard. The clattering of the hooves on the courtyard stone faded out as the horses met the muddier track leading out of the valley, and eventually the four horses disappeared from even elven sight, cantering along the track and up towards the ford. Elrond and Glorfindel watched them go.

Elrond sighed slightly, and Glorfindel turned to him. “What is it, mellon-nin?” he asked softly. One hand drummed on the hilt of his sword as he looked out around the courtyard. It was strangely quiet.

Elrond shook his head. “I do not know,” he said slowly. “But I am already worried for them. You know what happens when my sons and Legolas come together.” He chuckled slightly.

“You have foreseen something?” asked Glorfindel quietly. “If you have, and it involves the young Thranduilion, then I will gladly ride out and drag them back. The last time Legolas was injured on our watch, Thranduil nearly had my head. Besides,” he said softly. “The last thing we want is for Estel to be injured. His time is coming.”

“It will not be for a long time, at least to Estel,” said Elrond softly. “He still has so much to learn. But I have not foreseen anything. I just…” He sighed. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Elladan and Elrohir will protect Estel with their lives,” said Glorfindel. “You know this. Legolas will too, if it comes to it. He would give his life for Estel. He could be in no safer hands.”

“And that is what worries me,” murmured Elrond. He turned to Glorfindel. “What happens if Estel comes into danger, and Elladan or Elrohir, or Legolas, throw themselves in front of the arrow, or take the sword, instead of him? Not only will they be endangering their own lives, but Estel may have to watch one or more of them struggle for it. And he is only sixteen.”

Glorfindel shrugged slightly. “What will be will be, Elrond,” he said. “You know this as well. I do think you are worrying over nothing, mellon-nin. There have not been orcs sighted in the area for a few months now, and things have been quiet. Many were killed off six years ago outside Erebor, and their numbers are still diminished. Besides,” he said with a smile. “You give me no credit. I taught your sons how to defend themselves, and though I did not teach Legolas, you and I both know his skills with a bow are nearly unparalleled. They will protect each other, Elrond.”

Elrond smiled slightly. “I know,” he said. He turned and began to walk back inside with Glorfindel by his side.

Glorfindel smiled. “Are you sure you are not just thinking this because you do not want to be on the receiving end of Thranduil’s wrath?”

Elrond laughed. “That is true,” he said. “Thranduil’s wrath is a fearsome thing, we both know that.” He chuckled. “And you weren’t there that night outside the Black Gates, at the Last Alliance. I was sure that I was losing my head then, or at least a limb.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “Aye, Turgon could be the same in Gondolin,” he said. “Of course, Ecthelion and I knew it to be a bluff, but others didn’t always realise.” He laughed at the memories. “It did not help that Ecthelion and I used to irritate him on purpose.”

Elrond smiled. “Come,” he said. “There are things we must do.” The two elves ascended the steps up inside Imladris, but Elrond couldn’t help glancing back at the track leading out of Imladris, the track that his sons and Legolas had only just disappeared down. He hoped that this time, no harm would come to any of them.

0-o-0-o-0

They had been riding for most of the day, and the sun had reached its peak in the sky and was falling, down into the slowly gathering darkness surrounding the hills and trees. The water splashed up around the hocks of the horses and the four stallions moved through the river.

Legolas urged his horse onwards, reaching the far bank of the Bruinen, and checked his grey stallion, wheeling it around with the lightest touches to wait for the other three horses. Legolas laughed as Estel’s horse pawed at the rushing water with a snort, and Estel quickly pulled up his stallion’s head with a grin.

“Do not let him roll!” called out Elladan as his horse heaved itself onto the bank and shook itself off. “That happened to Elrohir once.”
“Elladan, you swore you would not repeat that,” said Elrohir with a groan. “Nobody had to know.”

“Well, we know now,” said Estel, pulling his horse’s head up again and kicking him forwards so he too reached the far bank. “What happened?”

“Aye, what happened?” asked Legolas with a smile as the four horses turned and began to walk up the muddy track, now out of the valley of Imladris. There was a difference, Estel noticed, as they walked. He zoned out of the conversation now going on between his brothers and Legolas and studied the trees and undergrowth on either side of them as they walked.

In simple terms, it was darker. Only slightly, not enough to be noticed unless you spent most of your life in the safe haven of Imladris. Yet it was there, it was present. Estel could see how the shadows the trees cast were maybe a little longer, a little deeper, than what he normally saw in Imladris. But maybe it was only because he was looking for it. Shadows often grow darker when your eye falls on them.

But there was something else, thought Estel, as Legolas and the twins continued to talk and laugh about something. He knew the three of them would notice the difference; after all, if a mortal could, then three elves would be able to as well. Yet they had spent so many years fighting the darkness, beating back the shadow, that maybe all lighter places merged into one. Maybe they didn’t look for the little differences, so relieved to see any difference at all.

So maybe, thought Estel, they did not, or would not notice the slight difference in the air, the hint of heaviness, of darkness that existed outside Imladris’ borders. But Estel thought he could sense something, at least. It was like inside Imladris everything was so much…stiller. In a way, that meant peaceful, but it was also as if Imladris was in a different place to everywhere else. Estel knew that didn’t make much sense, but it was the only way he could put it. Outside the borders, across the river, everything around him was a little bit darker, aye, but it was also so much more alive.

Estel’s brow furrowed as he thought this. He had known for a long time that things were different outside Imladris. His brothers had patiently and carefully explained the horrors that existed in the world to him, had sat him down one day and taken as long as a young child had needed to understand it all. But Elladan and Elrohir had never touched on the sheer volume of things that were alive in the world. As Estel looked around at the woods surrounding them, he realised how much more there was than shadow under the trees.
His brothers may not be able to notice it, thought Estel with a sudden and unexpected pang. Legolas may not see it either, though Estel did not know. He did not know Legolas well, and he was a wood elf as well. Estel was pretty sure, judging by Legolas’ smile as he looked around him at the woods either side of them, that the blond elf was more than able to sense the life running underneath everything.

Laughter came from the three elves in front of him, and Estel’s gaze flicked back to them as Legolas, riding just in front of him, turned and smiled at him. Estel grinned back, finding himself again instinctively liking the blond elf from Mirkwood.

“How fast is your stallion?” asked Legolas, raising one eyebrow. Elladan and Elrohir both rolled their eyes.

“Do you really need to race him?” asked Elladan with a sigh. “I was enjoying the peace.”

Legolas laughed. “Mellyn-nin, whilst us three are together there will be no peace! And I was not suggesting a race between Estel and I.” He glanced down at the track they were riding down. “The track is wide enough for four.”

“Only just,” pointed out Estel. He grinned at Legolas. “But then that makes it a little more interesting.” He gathered up his reins and his horse, picking up on the sudden change in mood, snorted and tensed up underneath him. Legolas touched the sleek grey neck of his stallion and said something in Elvish that Estel didn’t catch.

“What did you say to him?” he asked. Legolas grinned and repeated the words he had spoken, and Estel frowned. “Is that…?”

“Silvan,” said Legolas. “I probably speak it more in Mirkwood than I do Sindarin. Not every elf in Mirkwood speaks Sindarin, so most of the time I speak Silvan on patrol, or when speaking with most elves. I only really speak Sindarin with my father or the other lords, like the councils, even though I can speak it perfectly well.”

“I have never heard either of you speak it,” said Estel, nodding at Elladan and Elrohir. Elladan shrugged.

“We have never had cause,” he said. “We can speak it well, of course, but have only used it in Mirkwood before.” He laughed. “Legolas just told his horse to throw yours off the path if necessary.”

Estel laughed as Legolas shot a glare at Elladan. “The race is on, then,” he said, pushing his horse forwards. Legolas eyed him as he drew level, before Estel suddenly shouted and kicked his horse forwards. The stallion, already tense, bolted like a loosed arrow, his hooves biting into the earth as he pushed himself forwards. Instantly Legolas’ stallion shot forwards at a touch from Legolas, closely followed by Elladan and Elrohir’s two horses. The four galloped down the wide earthen track, hooves pounding into the earth, the wind whipping into their faces. In a second they were gone, the only trace of them the rustling of the breeze in the leaves overhead.

0-o-0-o-0

The four horses pounded down the track, the riders leaning forwards, urging them on. In front, a young man on a dark stallion was racing neck and neck against a grey horse, urged on by a blond elf.

Estel laughed as Legolas slipped behind him slightly, and urged his horse on down the track, digging his heels into the stallion’s flanks. The trees and bushes either side of them flashed past, going unnoticed by the elf and the young man.

The head of Legolas’ stallion slipped back to Estel’s knee, and Legolas, minutely adjusting his balance on top of his horse, leant forwards and murmured something in Silvan. His horse twitched one ear in response, before bunching his muscles and leaping forwards again. He grinned as his horse’s head inched forwards until he was level with Estel once more.

Behind them, Elladan and Elrohir galloped together, though they had both decided to take no part in the race when they had seen the determination on Estel’s face. Keeping up a pace fast enough to keep Estel and Legolas in sight, Elladan and Elrohir’s stallions almost moved in sync, oddly similar to their riders.

Elladan grinned as he heard a shout of laughter from his little brother ahead. Further down the track, the path split in two. A wider path continued on straight, whilst a small and muddier track trailed off to the right.

Legolas glanced over at Estel. “Which way?” he shouted, making himself heard over the rush of wind and the pound of hooves.
Estel looked over. “Doesn’t matter!” he cried out, turning his horse slightly to the right and aiming for the wider track. “Both end up in the clearing!”

Legolas nodded, and took advantage of the slight turn to push his horse onwards and overtake Estel. The blond elf laughed as his horse’s head drew in front of Estel’s, and Estel grinned, retaliating by digging his heels in and pushing his horse onwards.

Elrohir smiled at the sight of his little brother racing away, but his smile was short-lived when suddenly his horse stumbled and nearly fell. Elrohir threw his weight back and pulled on the reins, pulling his stallion’s head up and allowing it to regain his balance.

Elladan reigned in his horse, watching as Estel and Legolas took the wider track and kept galloping on. “What is it?” he asked Elrohir, who had jumped off of his horse and was running his hand down one foreleg. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Elrohir, gently patting his horse’s shoulder. “He suddenly stumbled, and nearly fell. I don’t know if he injured this leg.”

Elladan dismounted, murmuring a few words to his stallion to make sure it stayed still, before joining Elrohir at his horse. Elrohir ran his hand down the horse’s leg again, and clicked gently. “Pick it up,” he said softly, leaning into the horse’s shoulder so that he would pick up his hoof.

The stallion snorted softly and obligingly picked up his hoof. Elrohir studied it carefully.

“Anything?” asked Elladan. “He may have damaged a tendon instead.”

Elrohir shook his head. “His leg isn’t hot, and he did not flinch when I felt down his leg.” He put the foot down and moved to the other side, picking up the other foreleg.

“Got it!” Elrohir said triumphantly. “Do you have your dagger, Elladan? I can’t get to mine without putting the hoof down, and now I have seen what’s in his hoof, I don’t really want to.”

Elladan nodded, and moved around to the other side of the horse, glancing over briefly at his own stallion, making sure that he was still staying there. His horse looked over at Elladan as he glanced over, and twitched an ear indignantly. Elladan chuckled.

“Here,” he said, taking a short knife from his belt and flipping it in his hand so he lightly held the blade. He offered it to Elrohir. “What is it?”

“A stone,” said Elrohir, taking the knife and using it to lever a massive stone out from the bars of his horse’s hoof. “Probably bruised the sole, but it shouldn’t be bad enough to make him lame. We can continue, if we take it a bit slower.”

Elladan nodded, grimacing as his knife scraped against the stone stuck in the hoof. “Be careful,” he said. “I happen to like that dagger. I have had it for a long time.”

“I know,” said Elrohir, adjusting his grip on the knife and trying to lever the stone out from a different angle. “I was the one who gave it to you.”

“Aye, I remember,” said Elladan with a smile. He grinned as the stone was finally flicked out and landed in the mud of the path. Elrohir stood up, letting go of his horse’s hoof and straightening up. He handed the knife back over to Elladan. “There. Not even a scratch.”

Elladan laughed and stuck the knife back in his belt. “Does he seem alright?” he asked, as Elrohir led his horse forwards a few steps.

“Aye,” said Elrohir. With a few words and a click of his tongue he urged the horse on into a trot for a few steps.

“He looks fine,” said Elladan, watching the horse’s gait carefully. “We should be alright.”

“We will take it slowly, anyway,” said Elrohir. “Estel and Legolas took the wider path. The other way is quicker, but it would have gotten too narrow for them to ride along. If we take the narrower path, we can travel slowly and still arrive around the same time as our dear brother and friend.” He flicked the reins back over his horse’s head with practised ease, and then mounted up again, swinging himself up onto his stallion’s back. Elladan did the same, and the two brothers turned their horses to the right and began to walk down the narrow track, away from Estel and Legolas.

0-o-0-o-0

Estel grinned again as the two horses thundered down the track. He glanced behind him briefly, but could no longer see either of his brothers. It didn’t matter though. He knew the way to the clearing, and this track only took you there. His brothers may have taken the other path to get there. It would be quicker for them, but then they were not racing a certain blond elf who was currently in front of him. Estel turned his mind back to the race and urged his horse on again. His horse was elvish, a large stallion, still young enough, yet fit enough to keep running for a long time.

Legolas risked a glance back as he heard the hooves behind him quicken, and saw Estel drawing near again. He grinned at the young man, and turned his gaze back to the track in front of him. The grin vanished from his face as he saw, just in front of them, an area covered in dead leaves. To the side, something that looked suspiciously like a thin rope snaked out from underneath the leaves.
It was too late, though. Legolas barely had time to sit up before his horse charged straight into the trap. A noose tightened around his horse’s leg and suddenly Legolas felt his stallion fall beneath him, his horse crying out in a noise that sounded eerily like a screaming child as his leg snapped. Behind him, Estel’s horse threw its head up and skidded to a halt, but Legolas’ stallion had never had the chance. With the rope tight around its leg, it fell down, flipping over itself and crashing down on the track floor. A sickening crack echoed through the woods.

It sounded clichéd to Estel, but it literally happened to fast for him to make sense of it all. At one moment Legolas was galloping ahead in front of him. The next moment, his horse screamed out loud and fell down, crashing to the floor. Legolas disappeared underneath his screaming horse.

Chapter Text

“Legolas!”

His horse was still screaming, twisting on the ground, and Estel saw the noose now wrapped tight around one of its broken legs. He was going to get off, but then his horse tried to rear up and bolt, so Estel stayed on top. It was safer, and as Legolas’ horse was injured, they would need Estel’s.

He tried to urge his horse forwards, but he balked and reared up again. Estel caught himself as he began to fall back, and instead pushed all of his weight forwards, forcing his horse back down so all four feet were on the ground. He glanced behind him, hoping Elladan and Elrohir would suddenly appear. But it seemed like his luck was not that good.

He urged his horse forwards again, this time coming slightly closer. “Legolas?” he called out again. His horse spun as Legolas’ horse screamed again, and Estel wrenched his head around so he couldn’t bolt off. “Legolas!”

What if he had fallen under the horse, thought Estel suddenly? What if he was injured, or unconscious? What if he had been killed? He called out again. “Legolas! You stubborn Sinda, answer me!”

A groan came from the other side of the horse, and Estel’s heart quite literally leapt into his throat and seemed to grab hold of his tongue. He swallowed. “Legolas?”

There was a pause. “Aye?” came a shaky voice, and Estel let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Ai, thank the Valar,” he said, struggling amidst the words to control his spinning horse, who was once again threatening to rear. Legolas groaned again, and Estel’s gaze whipped back to where his horse lay. He had stopped struggling now and was lying completely still, his eyes open wide in terror. The ropes were wrapped so tightly around all of his legs now, that he could no longer move well enough to roll over, let alone to get up.

“Are you alright, Legolas?” Estel called out, his horse trying to rear up again. “Legolas? Are you trapped?”

There was movement from the other side of Legolas’ horse, and Estel heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the blond elf getting to his feet. “I am fine,” he said, though he sounded surprised at what he was saying. He crouched by his horse’s head, gently stroking his neck and speaking hushed words.

Estel was surprised by Legolas, who was walking and seemed fine. There was a scratch down the side of his face that was dripping blood, but it was probably nothing to Legolas. Estel supposed that it had been his quick elven reflexes, and a lifetime of practice that had saved Legolas when his horse had fallen, allowing him to roll clear.

Estel’s horse reared and screamed again, and Legolas looked up. “Are you able to dismount?” he asked quickly. Estel shook his head.
“I doubt it,” he said. “If I do, I think he will bolt, and we can’t risk that.” Legolas moved around to where his horse’s leg was snared in the noose, and studied it carefully, his brow furrowed in a frown.

Estel tried to calm down his horse, but as he leant forwards to stroke his neck, the stallion snorted and reared up. Estel was badly unbalanced and fell back, pulling on the reins. His horse staggered backwards, and then with a sickening scream, fell over backwards.
Legolas was instantly on his feet as the horse fell. “Estel!” he cried out, stepping away from his horse as he began to thrash in panic. “Estel!”

At the last minute, Estel had managed to twist away as his horse had come down. He had flung himself to the side and found himself landing in the soft mud of the track. He barely had a moment to register his surprise before a sharp shooting pain shot up his arm, and the scream of his horse had him rolling frantically to the side.

“Estel!” Estel could barely hear Legolas’ cry over the pain running through his head, but he breathed deeply, as his brothers had taught him to do, and focused on what was going on around him. Cradling his arm, he sat up.

Legolas quickly made his way to him, holding out one hand. “Careful!” he said as Estel pulled himself to his feet. It was only then that Estel noticed his horse was flat out on its side, panting heavily, his eyes wide with the white of his eyes clearly visible. Legolas’ horse was beginning to panic again, trying to move against the ropes holding it tight.

Estel winced as he watched his horse struggle, instantly noticing the blood on the track floor and the way the horse was moving its front legs, but not its back. Legolas pulled out one of his knives, the sound it made against the sheath making Estel jump. The blond elf walked forwards and placed a hand over the horse’s eye that was visible, murmuring soft words to him. The horse calmed, and Estel watched as Legolas swiftly ran his knife across his horse’s throat.

Estel could not seem to move as Legolas swiftly moved over to his horse and did the same, murmuring soft words to calm and still his horse, his broken legs coming still. Legolas gently laid a hand on his horse’s head, his fist clenching in the forelock for a brief moment. “I am sorry,” he whispered softly. “I am so sorry.”

Shaking his head as if to clear his mind, Legolas jumped to his feet and looked over at Estel. “Estel?” he asked, taking a step forwards towards the young man. Estel didn’t answer. “Estel!”

His words were sharp, and Estel blinked, suddenly realising the fierce pain in his arm and the now present stench of blood. Legolas gently pulled his arm away from his chest, and Estel hissed.

“What happened?” he asked, as Legolas took an arrow from his quiver, which was luckily unscathed, and snapped off the point, before breaking it into three pieces. Quickly and methodically, Legolas straightened Estel’s arm, his face stoic beside Estel’s sudden cry of pain, and used the arrow shaft and torn pieces of his cloak to splint the broken bone.

“I don’t know,” said Legolas as he finished Estel’s arm, and Estel was surprised at how level and calm his voice was. Legolas finished and looked around him, his knife in his hand.

“My horse hit a snare,” he said, walking away from the two dead horses and slightly down the track. Estel followed, the pain from his arm and the smell of the blood making his head swim. “I don’t know if…” Legolas turned around to Estel. “Are there orcs in this area?”
“Haven’t been any for a few months,” said Estel. He mistakenly glanced down at Legolas’ horse and felt the bile rise in his throat. He looked away, taking a few moments to control his stomach. When he looked back at Legolas, the elf’s face showed grief for a few moments, before he gained control again.

“There was nothing else that could be done for them,” Legolas said softly. He looked away from the animals. “The snares are typical of what I have seen of orcs in Mirkwood. It means that there are orcs nearby.” His other knife appeared in his other hand. “We need to get back to your brothers.”

“I know how to fight, you know,” said Estel, unsheathing his sword. Luckily the arm that was broken was not his sword arm. “I have fought and killed orcs before.”

Legolas raised one eyebrow. “You have a broken arm,” he pointed out. “And I am in unfamiliar territory, setting us at a distinct disadvantage. There are only two of us. In Mirkwood, I would never even consider taking on orcs with only one other person to have my back.” Legolas sensed Estel’s annoyance at those words, and sighed.

“It is not that I do not trust you, Estel,” he said. “But I do not know you well as I know your brothers. It means I cannot fight as well with you. I do not know instinctively what you will do. We must get out of here, and find your brothers.”

“Fine,” said Estel, cradling his arm to his chest and walking forwards. He had only taken a few steps forwards when something barrelled into him and he fell sideways, narrowly avoiding falling on his broken arm. He heard a grunt of pain and rolled over.

Estel’s eyes widened with shock. Legolas lay on the ground on his side, his knives on the ground in front of him. Estel sat up, ignoring his arm, and stifled a curse. Wrapped tightly around Legolas’ ankle was another snare. Legolas’ weight was barely keeping his leg on the floor, the rope pulling it tightly up, where it snaked from the branches of a tree.

“Are you hurt?” Estel asked frantically. He tried to get to his feet, but accidentally put weight on his broken arm. He held back a cry of pain and slipped back to the ground. Legolas, from where he was laid on his side, grimaced.

“Estel? Estel, are you alright?” Legolas’ entire body was tense with the strain of resisting the snare’s pull, and his teeth were gritted as he lay face down on the track. Legolas cursed and flipped himself over, the rope tightening even more around his ankle. Estel, mindful of his arm this time, got to his feet and rushed over. He grabbed hold of the rope.

Almost instantly he let go it of, letting out a curse. Blood beaded on his hand where sharp barbs of the rope had cut into it. “It’s barbed,” he hissed in fury. “The vile creatures, it’s…”

“Here,” said Legolas from where he lay on the floor. He handed Estel one of his knives. “Cut the rope, as close as you can to my ankle.” Estel nodded and sawed at the barbed rope, as close as he could to Legolas’ leg. He had to hold the rope with his other hand, the broken arm, to keep the rope still, ignoring the pain shooting up his arm and the sting of the barbed rope. Thankfully Legolas knew how to splint bones properly, so they hurt as little as possibly, and Estel was already getting used to the throbbing pain.

Eventually the rope snapped and Legolas sat up, gingerly pulling the strands wrapped around his ankle away. Beneath them were angry red lines from the barbs, dripping blood. Wrapping a strip of cloak around it, Legolas clambered to his feet and tested his weight on the ankle. He seemed satisfied, because he stood on it and instantly turned to Estel.

“What did you think you were doing?” he hissed. “If a horse goes down to a snare, you do not walk blindly off without looking for others! Next time, I might not spot it quickly enough to push you out the way.”

Estel felt anger rise within him. “I didn’t ask for you to push me out the way!” he exclaimed. “You are almost as bad as my brothers!”

Legolas gritted his teeth. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it is because I am hundreds of years older than you! Like it or not, I know more about fighting and orcs and all manners of darkness than you do right now. Which means that you listen to me, Estel. Are we clear?”
Estel’s gaze was stubborn, but he nodded. “Aye,” he said. “I’m not stupid.”

“I never thought you were,” said Legolas softly. He scanned the ground quickly. “Wait here.”

Estel stood still, still holding his sword in one hand, as Legolas moved swiftly and silently back and forth across the track, sweeping the ground in front of him with the tip of his knife. Twice he found snares, quickly setting them with sticks on the ground, and cutting the ropes with his knife.

He looked over at Estel. “That’s all of them,” he said. “We need to get out of here. Orcs have not been this way for a few days, judging by the faint tracks, meaning that they will be here soon. We need to get moving.”

Estel pointed with his sword through the woods. “If we cut through here, we should get back to the other track that my brothers probably took. It leads to the clearing, and we can meet them there.”

Legolas began to nod, but stopped abruptly and spun around, his eyes narrowed. “Go. Now,” he said shortly. “Into the woods.”
“What?” asked Estel. “Why? What can you hear?”

Legolas grimaced and sheathed his knives, instead pulling his bow from his back and nocking an arrow. “Yrch,” he whispered. Estel’s face paled slightly. Orcs. Orcs were coming.

0-o-0-o-0

Estel took a few hurried steps back, coming to the edge of the track. “Legolas?” he hissed. The elf was standing in front of him, one arrow knocked, his eyes constantly roving over the track and woods in front of him.

Yet as soon as Estel spoke his arms dropped, the arrow returning to his quiver and the bow fitting onto his back. Legolas turned around, and Estel was surprised at the expression that he saw on Legolas’ face, so different to the cheerful, seemingly young elf he had come to known over the past few days. Legolas’ eyes were blank, carefully cut off from everything else, and the gaze as he looked at Estel was the carefully calculating gaze of a captain and a warrior, not the light gaze he had become accustomed to seeing.
“Move,” hissed Legolas, pushing him backwards into the undergrowth. Estel turned and instantly stumbled on a tree root, only just stopping himself from catching his broken arm on a nearby bush. He hissed in pain.

Legolas suddenly appeared at his side, though Estel hadn’t heard the elf take a step. He took Estel’s unbroken arm and slung it over his shoulders, pulling the young man along as they hurried away from the track.

Suddenly Legolas stopped, his head turned slightly, listening to sounds that Estel couldn’t hear. In a moment his face changed, a slight flash of fear passing swiftly over it, before the careful mask slammed back down into place. He moved forwards, pulling Estel with him, until they were at the base of a large tree.

“Quickly,” whispered Legolas. “Climb up into the branches. We don’t have much time.”

Estel looked at him. “Climb?” he hissed back. “My arm is broken!”

Legolas’ gaze flickered up into the tree, before coming back down to Estel. “Wait here,” he said, and before Estel could speak a word, the blond elf jumped up and vanished into the branches of the tree.

It was only a few seconds before Legolas appeared again, crouched on the lowest branch of the tree. He reached out a hand.
Estel was doubtful for a second. He could hardly climb the tree like Legolas had, for he was a mortal and had a broken arm. And he did not know whether Legolas could take his weight. After all, the blond elf was slimmer and smaller than himself, and, judging by the impressive bruise developing on his forehead, had actually been hurt from the fall off his horse. And yet the hand was stretched out to him, insistent.

Legolas quirked one eyebrow, and he would have smiled, if they were not still too close to the track for his liking, and if there were no orcs currently far too close to them right now. “I will not let you fall,” he said softly.

Estel reached up and grasped his hand, and surprisingly the elf pulled him up into the branches of the tree, high enough for Estel to get a foot wedged between the trunk and a small branch, and take his own weight as he gingerly crouched in the tree.

Legolas, balanced seemingly precariously on the end of the branch, stood up. “We need to get higher,” he said. “We can’t be seen.” Without another word he leapt up onto a higher branch.

Estel followed, the climbing easier now he was in the branches of the tree. In a short space of time, they had reached a broad branch that was sticking out of the trunk. And it was not a moment too soon, because as soon as Estel’s feet touched the branch, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and something slammed him back into the trunk and pushed him down, so he was sitting on the branch with his back against the trunk of the tree. He looked over to see Legolas crouched in front of him, one hand on his chest holding him still. Movement from below caught his eye, and then his breath hitched in his throat.

The pressure of Legolas’ hand on his chest increased, a silent warning for him to stay quiet. Legolas was half turned away from Estel, his eyes watching as a troop of orcs, maybe thirty strong, came into view. Upon seeing the carcasses of their horses, they let out guttural cries, before rushing forwards. Estel winced as their blades came out, and they began to tear into the carcasses with vicious yells.

Legolas shifted silently on the branch in front of him, and moved so he could watch the orcs and Estel at the same time. For a few minutes neither of them moved, their eyes trained on the scene on the track below him.

As he watched, frozen in place by fear and pain and a whole lot more that he couldn’t put words to, Estel felt an almost overwhelming urge to shut his eyes. He didn’t want to see any of this, didn’t want to see the orcs carving up their horses for meat, or the cold look on Legolas’ face as he watched the orcs. He just wanted to go home. He wanted none of this to be real.

Of course, thinking that just made him realise even more how real this all was. He held back a shudder as one of the orcs howled again, and shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position in the tree.

After a few minutes, Legolas shifted silently and looked over at Estel. “They don’t look to be moving,” he whispered, his voice barely audible to Estel.

“What do we do?” asked Estel, and instantly wished that he hadn’t asked that. It sounded so juvenile, so afraid, and the last thing he wanted to be right now was a child. He was an adult, wasn’t he? In mortal ages, at least, he thought he was. But as his eyes were drawn back to the orcs and the fear fluttered in his chest, his breathing hitching slightly, Estel was the most unsure of his age that he had been in months.

Legolas shifted his position on the branch ever so slightly, checking again that they were not visible to the orcs. The foliage of the tree and the surrounding woods hid them well, and Legolas did not think that the orcs would think to look up for them. He glanced back at Estel.

Estel felt his mind start to wander as he sat up in the tree. The orcs had ceased to be enough to distract him, and his arm was throbbing mercilessly. He tried to move to ease the pain, but he only succeeded in making it worse.

Estel blinked, trying to clear his increasingly dazed mind. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open, and a small part of his mind, that had been trained so well as a healer by his father pointed out that he could have easily hit his head when he had fallen from his horse, and that this could be a delayed reaction. The best treatment was to lie down in a darkened room, and drink plenty of water.

Estel almost chuckled. Like any of that was possible. Even their waterskins were still on their horses, which were currently being…

Estel shut his eyes briefly as a wave of nausea overwhelmed him, and he swallowed. In the background Legolas was talking, but he couldn’t really make out what the words were. When Estel opened his eyes again, wanting to focus on Legolas so he could hear him, he shifted slightly as well, but the dizziness made him overbalance, and the next thing that he knew, he was sliding off the branch and the forest floor seemed to be rushing up to reach him, and he was falling…

And then strong hands grabbed hold of him and he was halted, pushed back up firmly against the trunk of the tree. Estel opened his eyes and blinked fiercely to see Legolas hovering in front of him, his expression worried.

“Estel,” he whispered. “Estel, can you hear me?”

Estel nodded. “Of course I can hear you,” he snapped, though his voice was still soft.

“I know you can,” said Legolas softly, and his voice was completely different from what it had been earlier, softer, more like the voice that his brothers had used when Estel had been a small child and had fallen over, or had a nightmare.

“Estel?” asked Legolas again, and Estel realised his mind had been wandering again. He grimaced at the pain in his arm as he tried to sit up straighter, and Legolas slowly took his hand off of his shoulder.

“Estel, keep focused on me,” he whispered. “Keep focusing on my voice, Estel.” He continued to talk as he carefully pulled out another arrow from his quiver and snapped the tip and fletching off before snapping it in three, the sound muffled by wrapping the pieces in his tunic.

“Keep your eyes open,” Legolas said softly as he added the pieces of arrow to the makeshift splint around Estel’s broken arm. He finished, pulling the ripped pieces of cloak tight again and making Estel hiss softly. “Does anywhere else hurt?”

Estel tried to focus, and slowly he realised his head was starting to throb, the beat perfectly in time with the sharp pain shooting up and down his arm. He moved, cradling his broken arm to his chest. “Head,” he murmured. “Think I hit it…when I fell off.”

Legolas’ fingers ghosted expertly over Estel’s head, finding the small lump on the back behind his ear, which made Estel hiss in pain. Legolas grabbed Estel’s chin and tilted his head down, looking into his eyes. “It’s not too bad,” he murmured, searching Estel’s eyes for signs of a head injury. “But it has made you dazed, has it not? And maybe nauseous?”

Estel nodded, with a small smile, and Legolas smiled back. “I have had my fair share of head injuries,” he whispered. “Try to stay awake.”

“I know,” muttered Estel. Yet it would just be so much easier to just go to sleep, to just let his head fall back and his eyes close, and to drift away into the black nothingness of sleep.

Something gently tapped his face, and Estel found himself opening eyes that he didn’t realise were shut, to see Legolas still crouched in front of him. “Estel?” the blond elf asked softly. “Estel, come on, you have to stay awake, just for a little longer.”
Estel blinked. “Alright,” he murmured. “I will.”

Legolas smiled slightly. “I am going to leave you here,” he whispered. “And go out through the trees, Estel. I will come back.”

Estel started. “Why?” he asked. A guttural roar from below, as some of the orcs began to fight over a piece of meat, reminded him to keep his voice lower.

“Why?” he whispered. “What if the orcs move on, and then we can leave?”

Legolas shook his head. “I need to find Elladan and Elrohir,” he whispered. “I can find them, and then we can get out of here. We don’t have horses anymore, and it would be foolish to try and escape without them. Besides, your brothers need warning. Thirty orcs is too many, even for them.”

Estel nodded. “Go then,” he said softly. “Go on, fetch my brothers.”

“Try and stay awake as long as you can,” murmured Legolas. “But if you need to sleep, then sleep.” He smiled. “Just don’t fall out of the tree.”

Estel grinned slightly. “I will try not to,” he muttered, his eyes flickering shut again. When he opened them, Legolas had moved slightly, and now had his quiver off his back. He was doing something with his cloak, and then a slight ripping noise helped Estel realise the blond elf was ripping his cloak into long strips, and trying them together. Carefully, seemingly balancing against the trunk of the tree and not touching the large branch, Legolas tied the strips around Estel’s legs and chest and the tree, effectively keeping Estel in place.

“There,” said Legolas, taking off the remains of his cloak and swiftly buckling his quiver back on. “Now you won’t fall out.”

Estel smiled slightly, and Legolas smiled back. He took the remains of his cloak and folded it into a ragged square, before leaning forwards and putting it carefully behind Estel’s head. “Your brothers will kill me if I don’t look after you properly,” he murmured with a smile.

Estel chuckled under his breath. “Don’t worry,” he said under his breath. “I can vouch for you.”

“Good,” said Legolas. “I have been on the receiving end of both of your brothers’ anger before, though those are stories for another day.” He reached behind him and pulled out one of his long knives from its sheath, handing it to Estel, who took it and clenched his hand around it. “Keep this safe,” Legolas said, moving the knife, and Estel’s hand, so the blade was resting on Estel’s leg, and it wouldn’t fall out of his hand if the young man fell asleep. “I like my knives, and I do not want to have to find a new pair.”

Estel smiled slightly, and Legolas grasped his shoulder briefly. “I will be back,” he promised.

Estel nodded. “You better be,” he muttered. “Or I won’t vouch for you when my brothers ask how well I’ve been treated.” He tried a wry grin.

Legolas smiled. He knew that Estel was not as unafraid as the young man probably wanted him to think, and he also knew very well that someone trying to cope with fear would often try and laugh, or in this case smile, because there were orcs milling around on the ground, after all, and they couldn’t make too much noise. And Legolas knew enough to be able to see through the cracked mask that Estel was trying to put on.

Legolas himself had had plenty of experience is crafting his own mask, his own shield so that nobody could tell what thoughts were really racing through his head. Yet Estel had not had nearly enough practice, and Legolas could see the little signs where his real thoughts were seeping through the cracked mask he had put on, like the slight turn down in the corner of his lips.

He supposed it was a good thing that Estel could not make as good a mask as he could, as good a one as he knew Elladan and Elrohir could as well. The things they had seen…

He did not wish them upon anyone else, let alone the young mortal that his two friends seemed so protective over. He knew Estel would eventually see these things, would craft a far better mask, but for now, Legolas was glad the young man’s was so cracked.
But Legolas didn’t say anything to Estel, didn’t question him. He just smiled and gently squeezed Estel’s leg in reassurance. “I will be back,” he said softly.

Estel nodded. “I know you will,” he said. “I trust you.” And he did. He wasn’t completely sure why, but he knew he did.

Legolas nodded. There was a faint rustle, and then Estel watched as a lithe green and brown shape swiftly disappeared from view, moving quickly from branch to branch and away from the orcs. Estel was impressed, for a brief moment before his eyes could no longer keep track of the blond elf. He had never seen anyone move so swiftly and silently through the trees.

But before long, his mind turned back to the cursed orcs beneath him, and he felt the worry begin to eat at him again. He was afraid. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew he was. And at that moment, he realised that he had been lying to his brothers, all this time, when he had told them that he didn’t need their protection; that he was grown up, a man. He would gladly have his brothers here now, looking out for him. The one person that had been watching out for him was gone now, and Estel felt alone, scared, and suddenly ashamed.

He held back a sigh, and leant his head back against the ragged cloak that was cushioning the hard trunk of the tree. He hoped Legolas would come back soon.

Chapter Text

Elladan laughed as he turned in the saddle to look back at his brother. “Aye, but do you remember the time when Glorfindel drank far too much wine one night, and challenged Adar to a duel?”

Elrohir chuckled and pushed his horse on a little so he drew level with Elladan, down the narrower, windier track that the two of them had taken. They had been riding for an hour or so, going slowly for the sake of Elladan’s stallion. Still, they had come far from where the tracks had split, and Estel and Legolas had taken the other way to the clearing.

“I remember,” said Elrohir. “And I remember Adar, having drunken too much wine himself, accepting the challenge. Things would have gone very bad if Erestor had not stepped between them and made them agree to wait until tomorrow.” He laughed. “And of course, neither of them could remember it the next day.”

“Aye,” said Elladan with a smile. “Mithrandir was at the feast, was he not? I seem to remember he had stopped by for a while. I can’t remember why.” He grinned and with a gentle nudge from his heels, steered his stallion around the large boulder cropping out of the edge of the wood.

“We never know why Mithrandir appears,” pointed out Elrohir. “He just turns up, half the time with someone in tow, stays to speak with Adar in mysterious conversations that I am sure they exaggerate, and then disappears. None of us know why he comes when he does. I don’t even think Adar knows.”

“I guess,” said Elladan with a shrug. “We have not seen him in five years, is that right? He and the perian stopped here on their way back from Erebor.” He chuckled slightly. “I wonder how Master Baggins is doing. He did promise that he would visit again. Somehow I doubt be will be able to stay in the peace and safety of the Shire.”

“Aye,” said Elrohir. He was about to say something else when he suddenly stopped, reining in his horse with a puzzled expression on his face. Elladan touched his reins and his stallion stopped, a little further down the track.

“What is it?” he asked, scanning the woods around them looking for anything at all that could have attracted his brother’s attention. He couldn’t see anything suspicious, and that meant that there was nothing suspicious that could be seen, at least by him. Elladan trusted his senses. He always had to.

Yet he knew he also trusted his brother’s senses as well as his own, and he also trusted to instinct. Instinct was there for when senses could not work quickly enough, and more than one time instinct had saved Elladan, making him duck below the sword before he really heard the whistle of the blade as it sliced through the air.

Elrohir held up one hand, a signal for Elladan to be silent. They listened.

“I hear nothing unusual,” murmured Elladan, his horse moving up to come next to Elrohir’s. “Just birdsong.”

“Exactly,” said Elrohir. “Listen to it.”

Elladan listened. And then his eyes widened and he stared in one direction, almost leaning forwards out of the saddle, his body tense. “Is that…?”

“Aye,” said Elrohir. “Listen. There it is again.”

And there it was. A faint bird whistle, barely able to be heard above the regular chatter of the wildlife in the woods around them, but audible to the sharp ears of the two elves. Of course, a birdcall is nothing unusual or suspicious. Yet the twins seemed to think otherwise.

Elrohir pursed his lips and whistled shrilly, a similar call echoing through the woods. The horses shifted restlessly for a few moments, until an answering call came again.

“He’s closer, but cannot find us,” murmured Elladan. “Thank the Valar he used a call of Mirkwood birds, or we would not have recognised it.” He called a similar whistle to what Elrohir had used, so similar it would have been hard to tell them apart. The shrill whistle had barely died amongst the trees and undergrowth around them before an answering whistle came, slightly louder this time.
Elladan let out one more whistle that was answered yet again by the bird call. Yet this call was different, higher and shriller than the previous calls, and ever so slightly louder. Elladan exchanged glances with Elladan.

“He’s found us,” he said softly. “But why is he looking in the first place?”

Elrohir shrugged, and raised two fingers to his lips, letting out a shriller whistle that sounded similar to the call the two elves had just heard. He then sighed, his hand dropping back down to grab hold of his reins.

“What has happened?” he murmured, his voice carefully blank. He didn’t look over at Elladan; his gaze was focused, strangely, on the trees around them, and his head was tilted as he looked up into the canopy.

Elladan didn’t answer, his gaze following Elrohir’s as they scanned the trees. A rustle came from behind them and they both turned sharply, their gazes finding nothing. The twins sighed slightly as one, their shoulders slumping, until a slight thud came from in front of them. When they looked back, a lithe blond elf was standing on the track in front of them.

Legolas smiled grimly. “Mellyn-nin,” he said, his voice grim and tired. “Do you know how hard it was to find you? If you had not recognised my calls…”

Elladan dismounted, closely followed by Elrohir. “I am glad we did,” he said, clasping Legolas’ shoulder. “What has happened?”
Legolas paused for a split second. “Yrch,” he said.

“What?” asked Elrohir. “There have not been sightings of orcs for a few months now.” He paused, seeming to be thinking, and when he spoke again his voice was far harder and colder, like sharpened steel.

“Where is Estel?”

“He is safe,” Legolas said immediately. “I had to leave him to come and find you. He would not have been able to get away through the trees without the orcs spotting us.”

Elladan ground his teeth. “Start from the beginning,” he said. “I take it we don’t have much time?”

Legolas shrugged. “No, we do not, yet the situation is not desperate,” he said. “If it were, you know I would have gotten Estel out of there.” Elladan nodded in agreement, and Legolas started to explain. “My horse hit an orc snare, and went down as we were galloping,” he said. “A few minutes after we took the wider track. I was thrown, and escaped unharmed.”

“Not completely unharmed,” pointed out Elrohir, looking with concern at the large bruise that had formed on the side of Legolas’ face, starting at his forehead and stretching down until it reached his cheekbone.

Legolas shrugged it off. “It is nothing,” he said. “My horse fell, and then Estel’s panicked. He reared and went over backwards.” He didn’t miss the way Elladan and Elrohir’s eyes darkened and they sucked in a breath as one, but he kept talking.

“He was thrown clear,” he said, and he saw the visible relief in both of the twins’ eyes. “But Estel’s arm is broken, and he hit his head. He is conscious, though, and coherent enough. He is alright.”

“Thank the Valar,” murmured Elrohir. “But this is not all.”

Nay,” said Legolas. “I put the horses out of their misery. Neither of them would have been able to get up, let alone carry us out of there. Estel nearly stepped in another snare, but I pushed him out of the way. Before we could get out of there, I heard the coming orcs. We barely had time to get into the woods, and I only just managed to get Estel up into one of the larger trees before the orcs came.”

He sighed. “The orcs looked like they were settling when I left. They seemed to like their catch of our horses.” His face twisted into disgust. “Vile creatures.”

“How long ago was this?” asked Elladan. He was already itching to go after the orcs, to hunt them down, because he had to, because it was what he and his brother did, what they needed to do, and they had to hunt those creatures down, and…
“You can’t,” said Legolas. Elladan blinked.

“What?”

“You can’t hunt them down,” Legolas said, his eyes flickering to Elrohir and seeing the same admission in his face. “I know both of you are thinking it. Not even the three of us could do it without injury. There are forty orcs on the track, and Estel is not fit to fight. You cannot hunt them.”

Elladan paused slightly, his instincts still urging him, as he had been doing all these years, to hunt down the orcs and kill them. Legolas, seeing his hesitation, gritted his teeth, and decided to speak up.

“Ai Valar!” he said. “You cannot think of hunting orcs right now, both of you! In case you haven’t forgotten, your little foster brother, who I know you love dearly and want to protect, is sitting in a tree above the orcs, with a broken arm. He was scared, mellyn-nin, though he tried to hide it.” Legolas’ voice was low and tense, not shouting, but with an edge to it. “You cannot think of hunting orcs right now.”

There was silence. Elladan ran his hand through his hair and over his face, sighing. “Forgive us,” he murmured. “It was an immediate response. I was not thinking of acting on it, believe me.”

“Neither was I,” said Elrohir earnestly. “It has just become such an instinct, but we would never act on it. You know our first priority is to look out for Estel.”

Legolas seemed to study his face for a second, before nodding. “I believe you,” he said. “Forgive me, mellyn-nin. It has been a tense hour or so, especially when I could not find you.” He glanced around him. “I do not know these woods.”

He didn’t speak of the endless running through the trees, his senses on a constant alert as he tried to find the twins, listen out for the orcs and avoid tripping and falling out of the canopy as he ran through it. The woods had been strangely devoid of animals, though birdsong could still be heard around him. It was the birdsong that had eventually led him to start adding calls of his own, whistles that cut through the air around him. He knew the orcs would never realise that his calls were not from real birds, but he had hoped that Elladan and Elrohir would recognise it.

After so many years fighting the darkness in Mirkwood, Legolas knew how to focus properly, how to block out most of the crippling thoughts that could invade if you had not trained your mind well enough. Training in Mirkwood was not just combat training. A poorly prepared mind could be as dangerous as a blunt weapon in a battle. And Legolas had been training for a very long time.

Yet every battle, every situation was different. And each one had something, some little thing that was able to find its way past the training and the barriers and worm its way inside your mind, seeding whispering thoughts that could be crippling if you let them grow. And this time, Legolas could not shut out the little whisper in his head, not completely.

And as he ran through the trees, he could not help thinking whether Estel was alright, whether he was still awake, or had succumbed to the exhaustion and pain Legolas had seen on his face and fallen asleep. Legolas didn’t know whether the orcs were still there, or had moved on, or, Valar forbid, had spotted Estel.

If they had, Legolas knew that he would blame himself. Once that thought had appeared in his head, he had resolutely tried to stop all other thoughts not necessary for navigating through the trees and finding Elladan and Elrohir, trying to not think about it, until he had heard an answering whistle and felt the relief as he realised Elladan and Elrohir were answering him.

“How far away are they?” asked Elrohir, breaking through Legolas’ thoughts. “How long can it take to get near enough to get to Estel?”
Legolas glanced up at the sky. “I am unsure,” he said softly. “We were galloping for a few minutes, no more. Yet I do not know how far away we are from the split in the track, and we cannot get the horses through the woods.”

“We are not too far,” Elladan said, flicking the reins over his horse’s head. “We can come up with a plan as we ride.” He mounted his stallion again and pushed the horse closer to Legolas. Elladan extended his hand. “Legolas?”

Legolas glanced up, and then grasped Elladan’s hand, pulling himself up and onto the back of Elladan’s horse. He briefly grasped Elladan’s shoulder before dropping his hands limply to his side. “We need to go,” he said.

Elrohir, already mounted, nodded and turned his horse around, back the way they came. With a nudge and a soft word from Legolas, the two horses and the three elves began to move back down the track, getting faster and faster, until the horses were stretched out in canter, their hooves pounding rhythmically on the forest floor.

Yet it was still not fast enough for the three elves. Every yard covered was one yard too many. But none of them wished for things to be different, none of them asked for this to never have happened, or for things to change. They had all been fighting too long to ever let themselves think that, when they knew perfectly well nothing would ever change.

0-o-0-o-0

Estel’s eyes were fixed on the orcs below him.

His breath came in sharp bursts, hissing out through clenched teeth as he struggled to keep his jaw shut. One hand clenched and unclenched on Legolas’ knife, the handle smooth underneath his calloused fingers. He could not drop it. Drop it, and he was dead.
But still his vision was not completely clear, and his head was spinning. He thanked the Valar that Legolas had had the sense to tie him to the tree before he left, or he would have fallen.

He blinked, focusing on the orcs. They had spread out into the undergrowth on either side of the track, taking dead wood and brush from the undergrowth to start a small fire, over which they were roasting the meat from their fallen horses. He closed his eyes as the smoke drifted up towards him, but still it caught the back of his throat and Estel, without thinking, without meaning to…

Coughed.

Immediately his hand shot up and clamped over his mouth, his eyes wide in horror. A quick glance showed a few orcs look up and the horror filling him up and covering him climbed as one or two growled something to a few others.

And then a weakening wave of relief washed over him as the orcs settled back down again, bickering over the charring slabs of meat in the fire. He relaxed back against the tree, his eyes shutting in a quiet sigh of relief. Dropping the hand from his mouth, Estel let it fall in his lap.

Let it fall in his lap, where it jogged the long white knife that he had let go of to keep in his cough, and Estel was too late to catch it as it jumped off of his leg and began to slip, and he reached for it. For a moment he thought he would grab it, that the knife would not fall, but then the moment ended and the knife slipped from his leg and the branch and fell, spinning through the branches and towards the ground, and…

And everything seemed to freeze, and Estel could feel the air rush out of his lungs as he gasped aloud as the knife hit the ground, clattering against the branches and coming to rest on the ground. He couldn’t move, couldn’t get out of the way as the orcs picked it up and looked up, and their gaze came to rest on him, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t escape as one orc picked up a roughly hewn bow and nocked an arrow, and Estel watched with no breath in his lungs at all as the orc pulled back the bowstring, sighted and…

And the arrow sped towards him, the black head coming closer and closer, and too late Estel twisted and tried to move, desperately clinging to his instincts to try and survive. But it was too little too late, and the arrow came closer and closer, until it struck.

And Estel awoke from the dream with a gasp that was quickly silenced. Immediately he clenched his hand around the knife that was in his lap, and after a second of thought, stowed it carefully in his belt. He couldn’t risk it falling out. He couldn’t drop it.

After doing that, Estel leant his head back against the trunk of the tree and let out a controlled sigh. He shut his eyes, trying to slow down his heart. He could hear the beat thundering away in his head, and his breathing, no matter how quiet he tried to keep it, was ragged and coming far too fast.

He risked glancing down, and was relieved to see that the orcs were busy roasting the now charred meat from their horses over a few small fires that they had set up. A few of them had taken the supplies off of the horses, and were fighting over some of their possessions.

The smoke from the fires rolled up towards Estel, and this time he made sure that he did not cough, his hand firmly over his mouth. The memories of his dream were still too vivid. Nothing could stop the smell, though, and Estel’s stomach rolled as he caught the smell of the roasted meat, mainly because it smelled so similar to the roast rabbit that he loved to eat at Imladris. His stomach rumbled with hunger, and Estel winced at the noise, seemingly so loud to his ears. It didn’t help anything; just reminded him that he was hungry and thirsty. He had been up in the tree for over an hour now.

He supposed there was one bright side to the smell of the roasting meat. It covered up the stench of the blood from the horse carcasses.

Estel relaxed slightly as he felt his pulse and breathing returning to normal levels, or at least as normal as they can be when a pack of orcs are underneath the tree you are stranded in. He wondered, as he had been doing for the past hour or so, when he was not asleep, where Legolas was. Had he found his brothers yet? Could they even get back to him without being seen?

A slight movement in the treetops to the right of him suddenly had Estel whipping his head around, and he silently cursed as the sudden movement sent his stomach lurching, the nausea coming back with a vengeance. Blinking to try and focus the world into view, and taking a deep breath to stop himself from emptying his stomach, Estel looked around him at where he thought he saw movement, hoping desperately for a sign of Legolas, or better yet, his brothers.

At first he saw nothing, and the pang of worry rose in him yet again. And then his eyes, flitting randomly over the woods, caught hold of something and Estel stilled.

It would have been almost impossible to spot Legolas in the trees, he was so still. It was his golden hair that had caught Estel’s eye, and that was partially because Estel had grown up with two elven brothers, and had become very good at spotting elves whilst playing hide and seek.

Legolas saw Estel watching him and raised one finger to his lips, slowly. His eyes flickered back to the orcs, and as soon as some of the orcs began to bicker loudly again, he raised his head, and in a swift movement, jumped into the next tree. Landing with barely a shudder on the branch, Legolas climbed swiftly. Estel followed him until the blond elf was up amongst the most slender branches, branches that Estel thought were far too thin to take the weight of an elf.

It only took a few minutes before Legolas climbed down the tree Estel was sitting in until he was crouched on the end of Estel’s branch. A half smile was on his face as Estel sighed in relief. The young man pulled out Legolas’ knife that he had been keeping safe in his belt, and handed it over.

Legolas smiled as he took his weapon back, and quickly used it to slice the ragged strips of cloak that had been used to keep Estel on the branch, gathering up the cloth so none of it fell to the floor. He shifted in the tree, moving swiftly and silently so that he was crouched on another branch, by Estel’s head.

“Estel?” he asked softly, his voice barely even a whisper.

Estel nodded, trying to move his legs to get some feeling back into them. “Aye,” he replied. “It’s still me. Did you find Elladan and Elrohir?”

“I did,” whispered Legolas in reply, his eyes flickering from Estel back to the orcs again. “They’re here. We’re going to get you out of here.”

Estel cracked a smile, though it felt fake. “About time,” he whispered, and the smile felt a little less fake as Legolas smiled back at him.

“Elladan is down on the forest floor,” he murmured. “Closer to Imladris, and as close to the orcs as he can get without being seen or smelt.” Luckily Estel and Legolas were downwind of the orcs, so the creatures could not catch their scent. Besides, the smell of the horses had masked it well.

”Elrohir is the other side of the orcs,” continued Legolas. “When he moves to distract them, we climb down. Run north along the track, and Elladan will meet you up there. When you get to the horses, get on and go. Don’t wait for Elrohir and I.”

“Wait,” said Estel, his voice quiet. “What are you going to do?”

Legolas gave a wry smile. “Someone has to watch your back,” he said softly. “Elrohir and I will harry the orcs as much as we can. We know what we are doing.”

Estel thought about protesting, asking for maybe one of Legolas’ knives so he could help fight, but then his head swam and the tree branches around him blurred into a haze of green and brown. His stomach rolled again and he gulped, squeezing his eyes shut to try and regain control and stop the spinning.

When he opened his eyes again, Legolas was still crouched next to him, and he could feel the reassuring weight of the elf’s hand on his shoulder. Legolas squeezed his shoulder briefly. “Are you ready?” he murmured. “We have to be as quick as we can.”

Estel nodded and, gripping hold of a small branch to keep his balance and not fall out of the tree, he shifted so his feet were dangling from the branch. Clenching his teeth against the dizziness, Estel lowered himself until he stood on a lower branch, gripping onto other branches tightly.

Legolas moved above him and slid through the trees until he was as close to the track as he could come. A small part of Estel marvelled at the fluid way he moved through the trees, how the branches never seemed to be in his way. It seemed so natural to him.

Legolas pursed his lips and let out a low chattering whistle. If Estel hadn’t seen him do it, he would have sworn it was a regular birdcall. The blond elf waited tensely for a few moments before an answering whistle came from further up the track. Still Legolas waited, completely still, his body tense like the string of a bow just before the arrow is fired, until another answering whistle came, this time from the other direction. It was only then that Legolas let himself relax slightly and move, easily threading his way through the branches back to Estel.

“Ready?” he whispered. Estel nodded, stopping the movement quickly when he swayed, and Legolas briefly grasped his arm. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, before lifting one hand to his mouth and sending out a shrill whistle.

Chapter Text

There were a few seconds after Legolas' whistle when there was only silence. Suddenly one of the orcs roared in anger. Estel twisted around, held back by Legolas' surprisingly strong arms. The orcs were milling around in confusion, spreading out in random directions, when suddenly an arrow sprouted from the neck of one of the orcs and he fell down dead.

A roar came up from the orcs in anger, but quickly two more arrows sped from the surrounding woods and another two orcs fell dead, their faces seemingly surprised at the piece of metal-tipped wood that had pierced their necks. Estel scanned the woods and track carefully, looking for Elrohir.

And there he was. The elf suddenly appeared from the track, just ahead of the orcs, letting off one more arrow with a shout at the orcs. As one the creatures turned, their roars becoming greater and angrier at the sight of an elf. Immediately they all rushed forwards, weapons suddenly appearing in their hands. Estel felt a quell of worry as Elrohir waited a moment, perched on the balls of his feet, his bow nocked and in his hand, and then the dark-haired elf began to run as the orcs approached, sprinting down the track and away from Legolas and Estel. At the bend in the track he stopped and loosed another arrow, bringing down another orc.

It only served to make the remaining orcs angrier, and they sped up, running full pelt towards him. Estel felt Legolas' hand tighten on his arm. He was about to whisper a scathing remark about how he didn't need holding back, but then he glanced over at Legolas and saw the clenched jaw and the unblinking gaze as Legolas watched his friend, and realised that maybe Legolas was trying to hold himself back from joining Elrohir as much as he was holding Estel back.

A second later and Legolas blinked, his gaze flicking back to Estel. "Go," he whispered, dropping from his crouch on the branch so he hung from the branch from his hands, before dropping onto another branch below him. Estel's eyes widened.

Legolas looked up. "Estel, hurry up," he whispered. The orcs were mainly gone now, chasing Elrohir, but he had no idea how long they would be gone.

Estel slipped from his branch and landed on the lower one. Legolas moved swiftly through the tree, coming to land on the wood floor below Estel. He looked up, "Estel, hurry."

Estel nodded and began to move faster through the tree, slipping and sliding rather ungracefully through the branches until his feet hit the ground. He swayed, and would have probably fallen if Legolas had not grabbed hold of him and slung one of his arms across his shoulders.

Without a word, Legolas turned and pushed through the undergrowth until they were on the track. He began to run, pulling Estel with him, and let out a low chattering whistle as they did so. Every so often he glanced behind him, half expecting the orcs to turn up again.

Estel's head pounded and the world was spinning around him in a dazed blur. He managed to keep on his feet and keep them moving, but it was Legolas who was keeping him upright and going in the right direction. They passed the torn up carcasses of the horses and suddenly the smell of them hit the back of Estel's throat. He gagged, bile rising in his throat and his stomach clenching as the nausea threatened to become too much.

Legolas slowed down slightly as Estel nearly doubled over. He glanced over at the young man, seeing the signs of nausea, and gently nudged Estel. "Just a little further," he murmured. "Come on, Estel. A little further."

Estel, with considerable effort, swallowed back the nausea and began to run again, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other, again and again. They rounded the corner of the track and a sudden movement in front of them made Estel jerk his head up, thinking for a horrific moment that the orcs had doubled around.

But it was only Elladan, running towards them. Estel caught a brief glimpse of worry, maybe even fear, in his eyes before a mask slammed down tightly, making his brother's face blank.

Estel staggered as Elladan reached them and nearly fell into his brother, suddenly feeling like a young child again. Elladan pulled him upright as Legolas let go. "Estel?" he heard Elladan ask urgently. "Estel, are you with me?"

"Aye," said Estel groggily, blinking to try and get rid of the spinning around him.

"Good," Elladan said. "Come on, tithen muindor. We have to go."

And it was at that moment when their luck ran out. A roar came from behind them and a sudden shrill whistle cut through the air. Both Elladan and Legolas' faces paled.

Legolas shoved Elladan down the track. "Take him and go!" he shouted, his hands going back to his bow and an arrow as the pounding of feet on the track became audible. "Elrohir and I will give you time."

Elladan looked set to argue, but then Estel staggered again, and he nodded tersely at Legolas. He briefly clasped arms with the blond elf before slinging one of Estel's arms over his shoulders and turning to run.

A moment later Elrohir appeared, running round the corner of the track and skidding to a halt next to Legolas. "Mellon-nin," he said, slightly breathless. "They worked it out. They're coming."

Legolas nodded, an arrow already nocked in the string of his bow. He and Elrohir exchanged glances, before moving forwards and apart from each other, coming to each side of the track. Estel watched over his shoulder as the two elves stood poised, weapons ready.

And then Elladan hustled him away as the first orcs came around the corner, not so much supporting Estel now as running and dragging the younger man along with him. Estel could hear the sound of orcs fighting and running around, and the sing of a bow that could only be Legolas', coupled with the clash of steel from Elrohir's sword.

He could tell when the fight was getting worse when the singing of Legolas' bow stopped and more clashes of steel on steel joined Elrohir's sword. Elladan could tell it as well, tightening his grip on Estel and pulling him suddenly off the track and around a thicket.

The horses were thoroughly spooked by the noises they could hear, pulling back on the ropes that were tied to one of the trees. Elladan quickly untied them, his hands working faster than Estel, in his dazed state, could see, before pulling Estel over to one of the horses.

"Quickly," he said, his voice low and urgent, and Estel grabbed hold of the reins. In a split second when his head was slightly clearer he pulled himself up into the saddle, grabbing at the front to steady himself as Elladan vaulted on behind him.

Elladan reached around Estel, gathering the reins in one hand and steadying his little brother with the other. "We're going to be alright," he murmured in Estel's ear as the young man, dazed and tired, leant back against him. "I promise."

With a nudge from his heels and a tug on the reins of Elrohir's horse, Elladan moved the two stallions out onto the track. The sounds of fighting continued further down the track, and Elladan's grip tightened on the reins. The horses were poised to flee.

And then suddenly a lithe shape came sprinting around the corner, sword still in his hand. Elrohir ran forwards, his dark hair flying behind him. "Go!" he cried out as he neared them, reaching his horse and flinging himself up and into the saddle.

Elladan's horse danced nervously beneath him as the pounding of feet became louder, but he kept him still for the moment. "Legolas?"

Elrohir glanced behind him, and cursed loudly. "He was behind me," he said, wrenching his horse's head around. He was about to urge the stallion on back towards the approaching orcs when a sudden shape dropped from the trees up ahead.

Legolas landed at a run, sprinting across the track as the approaching orcs rounded the corner and roared at the sight of the three elves and Estel. "Run!" he cried out as he sprinted, his bow in his hand.

Elladan quickly wheeled his horse around and kicked him on, the horse shooting forwards at a fast canter down the track. Elrohir held his in check for a moment longer, before moving off, though slowly. As Legolas ran towards him, he leant back slightly and held out his hand.

Estel watched with baited breath as Legolas, running as fast as he could, reached out his hand. For a split second the young man thought Legolas was not going to make it, but then his hand wrapped around Elrohir's wrist, and he jumped up, vaulting onto the horse behind Elrohir with such speed that Estel was amazed.

The orcs let out roars of anger as Elrohir wrenched his horse around and urged him on down the track, his horse quickly responding and reaching a gallop. Legolas, holding onto Elrohir as they galloped, glanced behind him.

"Bow!" he suddenly shouted, and instantly Estel felt himself being pushed forwards by Elladan as the older elf leant forwards over him. At a tug on the reins from Elladan, their horse shot sideways with a jerk, and an arrow sailed through the space where they had just been.

Estel glanced back and saw Legolas swiftly fit an arrow to his bow, let go of Elrohir, turn around and fire. The orc holding the bow dropped down, dead. The orcs kept running, but their legs were no match for horses, and they soon outstripped the creatures.

They kept cantering, moving fast down the track, until eventually the roar of the river could be heard and the horses slowed for the steep path down to the crossing into Imladris. Estel was slumped back against Elladan now, his eyes shut so that he didn't have to watch the dizzying world go past him, and to stop the welling nausea in the back of his throat as they cantered.

A sudden splash made him jump as Elrohir's horse leapt into the rushing river and began to wade across. Soon after Estel felt their stallion surge beneath him as he jumped into the river, and slowly began to make his way to the other side. The cold water swirled around his ankles, and then his knees, until the horse was nearly swimming. Vaguely Estel heard Elladan say something, but then the stallion stumbled and he lurched forwards. The resulting dizziness was too much for his already overweighed mind to cope with, and Estel felt himself relax as he entered the blissful darkness.

0-o-0-o-0

Estel came around to the sound of splashing and soft murmured words. For a moment he was confused, because it sounded like they were still by the river. It was only when he cracked open his eyes and saw that Elladan's horse was still splashing through the shallows of the river that he realised he had only blacked out for a minute, maybe less.

Yet his brothers had noticed. Elladan had one arm wrapped tightly around his waist, and he could hear his brother talking softly into his ear, though he could only make out snatches.

"…Safe now, we've crossed the river, so…"

"…Only a few hours until we can get back…"

Estel turned his head slightly, his face falling against the comforting warmth of Elladan's shoulder, and for a moment the words he could hear abruptly stopped. Then Elladan, tightening his arm around Estel as the horse leapt up the bank in front of them, started talking again.

"Estel?" he asked softly. "Estel, are you awake?"

Estel groaned slightly and tried to sit up straighter. "Aye," he said. "I'm awake."

"Good," he heard Elrohir say. "Just hang on a little longer, tithen muindor. We're safe now; we're across the Bruinen. The orcs cannot reach us."

Estel nodded slightly, and he felt Elrohir, he guessed, clasp his shoulder. Elladan urged his horse on a little further, the stallion scrambling up the bank of the river and onto the flatter ground the other side. A sudden clattering of hooves behind them let Estel know Elrohir and Legolas were right behind him.

Elladan reined in his horse, but the sudden movement made Estel lurch forwards, and his stomach suddenly rebelled, churning as the bile rose in the back of his throat. He doubled forwards and Elladan caught him.

"Estel?" he asked urgently, his voice worried. "Estel, what's wrong?"

Estel grimaced as Elladan pulled him back upright. He shook his head slightly, but his stomach rebelled at even that movement, and the nausea rose once more. "Don't…feel…"

Thankfully Elladan understood, because he said something urgently and then Elrohir was by the horse's shoulder, reaching up and gently pulling Estel down. He was just in time, because as Estel hit the stony ground he staggered away and then began to retch, doubling over as he emptied his stomach.

He vaguely felt someone grab hold of him and stop him falling forwards, and then hands were rubbing soothing circles on his back as he retched, wincing at the acrid taste of the bile. Estel could hear soft words being murmured, but the roaring in his ears made him unable to make out what they were saying.

Finally Estel's stomach ran empty, and he shut his mouth, grimacing as he tried to stop himself retching. Hands gently guided him as he straightened up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Estel found himself looking into the worried eyes of Elrohir.

"Just breathe, Estel," he said softly. "Slow it down."

Estel frowned. His breathing was not that fast, was it? He tried to tell, but things all seemed a little fuzzy. Elrohir gently shook him. "Estel, you need to slow your breathing down. Come on, tithen muindor. Just breathe." His brother's voice was calm and steady, but a small part of Estel's mind noticed how controlled it was, and the slight tightness to it that told him his brother was worried.

Estel nodded, and suddenly noticed the tremors wracking his body, making his hands shake and his legs feel wobbly. He stumbled slightly and Elrohir carefully guided him over, off the stony bank of the river and to the grassy clearing where the horses were. Estel looked at the green floor and decided that it would probably be a good idea to sit down. He didn't think his legs would be able to support him for much longer. He sank to the grass.

Elrohir crouched down beside him, and suddenly Elladan was there as well, two identical elves in front of him. Elladan's brow was furrowed in worry.

"Slow it down, Estel," he said, his voice the same as Elrohir's, an edge of tightness. He gently reached behind Estel's head and pushed the young man's head down, until it was on his knees. Estel, realising for the first time how fast and shallow his breathing was, began to take deep breaths. Elladan, or maybe Elrohir, patted his back gently.

Elrohir watched Estel, the worry easing in his chest as he saw his little brother begin to calm down and relax. He had definitely hit his head badly, he thought, and gently ran his hand through Estel's tangled and dusty hair.

"We should stay here," he said softly to Elladan.

Elladan glanced over to where the horses were, Legolas deftly stripping them of their tack and taking out the more important supplies. "I think someone is already ahead of you, brother," he said. "We can stay for a little while, but no matter what we do, it will be dark before we get back to Imladris."

"We go slowly, then," said Elrohir. "Estel will be able to manage, and we can always make torches. Besides," he murmured, glancing up at the sky. "The moon will be large tonight. We might have enough light."

"Aye, but can Estel ride?" asked Elladan, shooting a concerned glance at his young foster brother, who still had his head on his knees, breathing deeply. "He has a head injury, and he may not be able to cope."

"You know," came a rough voice. "'He' has a name." Estel briefly glanced up. "I can ride," he said. "In a little while."

"Are you sure?" asked Elrohir, his hand still ghosting over Estel's head. "You are still shaking."

Estel looked down at his hands, and clenched them to try and keep them still, suddenly a little embarrassed that he couldn't control it. And then he forgot to breathe, because he was focusing on his hands, and suddenly the world began to go fuzzy around him.

He found himself with his head on his knees again, breathing deeply. A hand was gently rubbing the back of his neck. He breathed again, feeling the air rush into his lungs, and the spinning stopped.

Elladan looked up from where he was crouched beside Estel. Legolas was standing by the horses, gently stroking one of them as he untangled the last pack from the saddle, and then slipped the saddle off, placing it carefully on the ground.

"Legolas, do you have a waterskin there?" Elladan asked, standing up and taking a few steps away from Estel as Legolas turned to look through the small pile of packs, before pulling out a two waterskins and another bag. He tossed them over to Elladan.

"Estel cut his hand as well," he said, taking his nearly empty quiver off of his back and gently putting it down. "It will need treating."

"And you?" asked Elladan, making no move to go back to Estel. Something wasn't right with Legolas. Elladan knew his friend, and he knew that Legolas was hiding something. How, he didn't quite know, but his instincts were saying that he wasn't quite right.

Legolas blinked. "I am fine," he said, and began to walk over to Elladan, Elrohir and Estel. Elladan's eyes narrowed as he caught the slight limp in Legolas' walk, and his eyes tracked down to the blond elf's ankle, where a hastily tied piece of fabric, probably torn from a cloak, was already soaked through with blood.

And it was when Elladan noticed that Legolas' leg suddenly buckled beneath him and he stumbled, a sharp gasp escaping his lips. Elladan rushed forwards and caught Legolas by the elbow, propping him up as the elf regained his feet. Legolas grinned slightly.

"I cannot fool you, can I?" he asked with a smile.

Elladan shook his head in exasperation. "You should not even try!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you say something? That is a lot of blood on your ankle."

"Estel needed you," said Legolas simply. "It is bloody, but not too bad. I could wait."

Elladan hissed in irritation as Legolas walked over to where Elrohir and Estel were, moving to sit on the grass beside Elrohir, his bad leg stretched out in front of him. "May I look at it?" he asked, moving over and coming to crouch beside Legolas' ankle. One waterskin he passed to Elrohir, who put it in Estel's hands and encouraged him to drink. The other he passed to Legolas, who took a long gulp before putting it down.

"I very much doubt whether I have any say in the matter," said Legolas dryly. "But look at Estel's hand first, saes."

"I can do better than that," said Elladan. He got up, and with a precautionary "Don't move," he moved over to the packs again, pulling out a second bag of medical supplies. Coming back over, Elladan passed the second bag to Elrohir, who looked up and smiled a little at Legolas.

"How did he get this injury in the first place?" asked Elrohir as he opened Estel's hand and examined the wound. Taking the waterskin, he poured the water over the cut, keeping hold of Estel's hand as the young man hissed and jerked at the sting.

"The snares were barbed," said Legolas, the disgust evident in his voice. "He cut his hand on one of them."

Elrohir nodded, and began to clean up the wound. Estel was silent as he worked, concentrating on quelling the rising nausea again, and keeping his breathing slow and steady.

Elladan gently peeled away the sodden piece of cloak wrapped around Legolas' ankle, and gave a low whistle. "Not too bad?" he asked, gently examining the wound. Legolas hissed as Elladan's fingers gently moved the torn skin around his ankle, blood trickling from the wound.

"I was hardly paying attention to it over the past few hours," muttered Legolas, his jaw tight as Elladan examined the torn flesh. "I had more important things to think about."

"I'm not blaming you, surprisingly," said Elladan, earning a chuckle from Elrohir. Legolas grinned, but it turned into a grimace as Elladan touched a particularly sore spot. "Sorry," said Elladan softly. Legolas shook his head.

"Just do what you have to," he said. Elladan nodded, and reached for a smaller skin containing some type of liquid. Uncorking it, he gripped Legolas' leg tight above the wound with one hand, before pouring the contents of the skin over the torn flesh with the other hand.

Legolas hissed in pain as the wine washed over the wound, and his leg bucked involuntarily. Elladan tightened his grip on Legolas' ankle and held on as Legolas grimaced, his jaw clenched tight to suppress a groan of pain.

Elladan waited for a few moments, before pouring the rest of the wine over the wound, Legolas grinding his teeth and clenching his hand tight into a fist, his knuckles white. Elladan paused for a moment. "Legolas?"

Legolas nodded, his breathing harsh. "Aye," he muttered through clenched teeth. "It's…painful, but alright. Keep going."

Elladan nodded, and reached with one hand into his pack of medical supplies, pulling out a small wrapped packet. Slowly letting go of Legolas' leg as the blond elf relaxed, the pain abating, he unwrapped squares of clean white cloth. Elladan looked up at Legolas. "You don't need stitches," he said. "Thankfully, the cuts are not that deep. But there is dirt in them that the wine will not wash out. I'm going to have to clean them carefully. Do you want something for the pain?"

Legolas shook his head. "Just do it," he said. He glanced over at Estel, whose hand was being wrapped by Elrohir in clean white bandages.

Estel looked over at him and grinned slightly. "How's the ankle?" He grimaced a little as his head swam at the movement of it, but forced it back down and looked over at Legolas.

Legolas smiled back. "Nothing I haven't had before," he said. He hissed as Elladan carefully began to clean out one of the deeper cuts, getting out the ingrained dirt. "I will be fine, Estel."

Estel nodded, the guilt that was welling up in him over Legolas being hurt because of him assuaging slightly at Legolas' reassurance. He looked over at Elladan, his face blank as he concentrated on cleaning up Legolas' ankle, which was now propped up on a folded cloak.

Elrohir glanced over. "How did you tear up your ankle, anyway? It looks like…" He trailed off. "Actually, I don't know what it looks like. If you don't mind, enlighten us."

Legolas chuckled, and shifted his weight slightly, careful not to move his leg. "When I told you I pushed Estel out of the way of a snare, what do you think ended up in the snare instead?"

Elladan and Elrohir's faces went from confused to understanding to irritated in a second. "You mean you stepped in a snare?" asked Elladan with a chuckle. "Ai Valar, Legolas, you cannot let your father hear about this!"

"I am more concerned about Belhadron," said Legolas with a grin. "He will never let me live it down if he finds out. Will you promise not to tell him? He will use it to blackmail me every chance he gets."

Both Elladan and Elrohir laughed. "We will not," said Elladan. "Not if he does not ask."

Legolas smiled, though his face was still a little pale and tight. He winced as Elladan washed out one of the wounds. "How long?" he asked him, looking down at his leg.

Elladan glanced up. "Be patient," he said, though he had a small smile. "The skin is quite torn, and there is a lot of dirt in the cuts. Adar may want to do it again when we return as well."

Legolas grimaced and looked away from his ankle. His gaze drifted towards Estel. "Is he alright?" he asked. Estel was sitting still, slumped a little against Elrohir. Though his breathing was back to normal, and his hand was wrapped in clean bandages, he looked pale and vacant, his eyes staring into nothing.

Elrohir looked at him, his eyes flashing with concern. "I think he's a little disorientated still," he murmured, gently placing a hand on Estel's back. "And maybe has found this a little much. He is only young."

Estel stirred. "'He' has a name, as I said before," he murmured, glancing up with a small smile. "And 'he' will be alright, thank you very much." Of course, Estel knew he was lying to his brothers, but he just didn't want to appear any weaker than he already did. If he was being honest, at least with himself, he was ashamed of it. His brothers had trained him to fight, and now he was on the verge of panicking, when he hadn't even fought a single orc! He had been useless, relying on his brothers and Legolas to get him out.

His head still felt unclear, and the nausea was residing at the back of his throat, just threatening a little to return. Yet Estel felt his eyelids droop, and he slumped a little further against Elrohir as Elladan cleaned up Legolas' ankle, and the three elves continued to talk. His breathing slowed, and everything gradually turned black as he fell into sleep.

0-o-0-o-0

Estel gradually began to come around to the sound of whispered conversation from beside him. For a few moments he lay there still, his head on something soft and warm, and listened to what his brothers and Legolas were saying.

He heard Elrohir's voice first, cold and dark, like steel. "We have to hunt them, and soon. They will get away otherwise."

Legolas' voice, Estel noticed, was different to his brothers. It was lighter and more lilting, a different accent that Estel couldn't quite place. "I am not disagreeing with you, mellon-nin. Yet what can we do now?"

Elladan's voice came next, and Estel still prided himself on the fact that he could tell their voices apart without seeing them. "They hurt our brother, they hurt you, Legolas. We have to stop them." Estel suppressed a slight sigh at what he saw as vengeance in his brother's dark tone.

"I know," said Legolas, and his voice was soft, almost sounding tired. "But I know orcs well. They will most likely not leave the area for a few days. They have a plentiful supply of food, thanks to our horses, and they are out for blood. I counted my remaining arrows- twelve of them are dead by my hand at least, and more can be added to the count. I was not the only one who harried them." Estel got the feeling that Legolas was looking over at Elrohir at this point.

Elladan sighed. "You are right," he murmured. "We must think of other things first. It will be dark soon, and I am uneasy spending the night away from Imladris with Estel's injuries and your ankle."

Estel heard Legolas start to say something, but one of his brothers shushed the blond elf quickly. "If we are not careful," Estel hear Elrohir say, "It could become worse. You should be thankful it is not poisoned." Somehow Estel found his tone accusing.

It seemed that Legolas also noticed it, because when he spoke again, his voice was less soft, colder than before. "I did not mean to injure myself," he said abruptly. "You know this."

"Aye," said Elladan, seeming to rise to the challenge in Legolas' voice. "Yet trouble seems to follow you, follow all of us, does it not?"

"You cannot be blaming me, or yourselves, for this," said Legolas. "You know that this is not our fault." He paused, and Estel felt someone's eyes land on him. A moment later Legolas spoke again.

"Estel's injuries are not anyone's fault, Elladan. Not mine, and certainly not yours. I know you are both thinking it, but you are both far too seasoned as warriors to believe it. I know this."

There was silence for a moment, before Elrohir spoke up. "Yet he is our little brother, Legolas. If he gets hurt, it is on us. We have to protect him." Estel felt a surge of annoyance at these words. He wanted desperately to prove that his brothers didn't need to do that.

"I know," said Legolas softly, and all the fight seemed to have gone out of his voice. "But we have lived far too long, and seen far too many things, to still blame ourselves when things go wrong and people get hurt." He settled into silence, and Estel pondered his words. How much had he and his brothers seen? How long had they been fighting against the darkness, the shadow that was covering the land. For a brief moment, he saw things from their eyes, saw the long, dark years go by, and wondered how any of them were still willing to try and protect others, to protect him, after everything they had seen.

He heard the noise of shifting fabric, and then Legolas spoke up. "So how far away are we?" he asked softly.

Elladan glanced up at the sinking sun. "A few hours, maybe less. We can take the more direct route into the valley, the one only Adar, Glorfindel and us know. Regardless, it will be dark when we make it back."

Estel heard Elrohir sigh slightly. "All the more reason to start moving now," he said. Estel felt a hand lightly grasp his shoulder and gently shake him. "Estel?" asked Elrohir softly. "Estel, wake up."

Estel cracked open his eyes again and raised his head, wincing slightly at the spinning sensation it caused. He realised now that the thing his head had been resting on had been his brother's leg, with a cloak pillowed over it. At some point, they had moved him to a more comfortable position. He didn't know whether to be grateful or ashamed.

Estel blinked, and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Aye?" he asked, pretending he had just woken up and had not listened to their conversation.

"We are leaving," said Elrohir, getting to his feet and pulling Estel up with him. Elladan was already on his feet, gathering up the few supplies they had taken out of their packs. Elrohir picked up a waterskin. "Here," he said, handing it over. "Drink."

Estel took a long gulp, his eyes straying from brother to brother to Legolas. He could tell that his brothers especially were still angry, a strange and unsettling calmness having settled over them. He had no doubt that their minds were still thinking of the orcs. The same calmness was over Legolas as well, though to less extent, as he winced, getting to his feet and limping slightly to the horses.

And Estel knew at that point that his brothers and Legolas would hunt down those orcs and kill them. They would have done it even if Estel had not been harmed because of them, but Estel guessed that now it was a little more personal for his brothers. For as long as he could remember, Elladan and Elrohir had sought to protect him, and now he had been hurt, and they had not been able to prevent it, not fully.

Estel thought that maybe Legolas felt the same way. After all, the blond elf spent his whole life fighting orcs and all manner of foul creatures, and protecting others, like he had protected Estel earlier today. Estel supposed he did not like seeing those he was meant to protect getting hurt.

Elrohir helped Estel, though the young man only accepted it grudgingly, up onto his horse. Elladan mounted up, and Legolas passed him up the few remaining packs, before buckling his quiver back on, and checking his knives, quickly pulling them out and looking over the blades. Estel glanced over at him, wondering why he was checking his weapons thoroughly when they were inside the borders of Imladris, and were safe.

Legolas glanced up and saw Estel looking. He sheathed his blades and picked up his bow, carefully running one hand down the string. "What is it, Estel?" he asked, limping over to the horses.

Estel frowned. "We are inside Imladris' borders. Why check your weapons so well?"

Legolas chuckled slightly. "This is not a thorough check, Estel. But it is a force of habit. In Mirkwood, we may be called upon to fight at any moment. It is habit to keep our weapons at hand and ready." He gave a brief smile, but it did not reach his eyes, which were tinged with something else.

Elladan held out a hand to Legolas. "We need to move out if we want to use the remaining daylight," he said. "We must hurry." Legolas nodded and grasped Elladan's hand, jumping up off of his good ankle and vaulting up behind Elladan on the horse. Estel felt Elrohir leap up behind him on his horse, and then the two horses began to move off down the track towards Imladris.

Estel leant back a little against Elrohir, and he felt his brother's arm encircle his waist, holding him steady as they cantered down the track. His eyelids began to grow heavy, and despite the throbbing pain in his splintered arm and the slight dizziness, he slowly sank back into sleep once more.

Chapter Text

Estel gradually began to come around to the sound of whispered conversation from beside him. For a few moments he lay there still, his head on something soft and warm, and listened to what his brothers and Legolas were saying.

He heard Elrohir's voice first, cold and dark, like steel. "We have to hunt them, and soon. They will get away otherwise."

Legolas' voice, Estel noticed, was different to his brothers. It was lighter and more lilting, a different accent that Estel couldn't quite place. "I am not disagreeing with you, mellon-nin. Yet what can we do now?"

Elladan's voice came next, and Estel still prided himself on the fact that he could tell their voices apart without seeing them. "They hurt our brother, they hurt you, Legolas. We have to stop them." Estel suppressed a slight sigh at what he saw as vengeance in his brother's dark tone.

"I know," said Legolas, and his voice was soft, almost sounding tired. "But I know orcs well. They will most likely not leave the area for a few days. They have a plentiful supply of food, thanks to our horses, and they are out for blood. I counted my remaining arrows- twelve of them are dead by my hand at least, and more can be added to the count. I was not the only one who harried them." Estel got the feeling that Legolas was looking over at Elrohir at this point.

Elladan sighed. "You are right," he murmured. "We must think of other things first. It will be dark soon, and I am uneasy spending the night away from Imladris with Estel's injuries and your ankle."

Estel heard Legolas start to say something, but one of his brothers shushed the blond elf quickly. "If we are not careful," Estel hear Elrohir say, "It could become worse. You should be thankful it is not poisoned." Somehow Estel found his tone accusing.

It seemed that Legolas also noticed it, because when he spoke again, his voice was less soft, colder than before. "I did not mean to injure myself," he said abruptly. "You know this."

"Aye," said Elladan, seeming to rise to the challenge in Legolas' voice. "Yet trouble seems to follow you, follow all of us, does it not?"

"You cannot be blaming me, or yourselves, for this," said Legolas. "You know that this is not our fault." He paused, and Estel felt someone's eyes land on him. A moment later Legolas spoke again.

"Estel's injuries are not anyone's fault, Elladan. Not mine, and certainly not yours. I know you are both thinking it, but you are both far too seasoned as warriors to believe it. I know this."

There was silence for a moment, before Elrohir spoke up. "Yet he is our little brother, Legolas. If he gets hurt, it is on us. We have to protect him." Estel felt a surge of annoyance at these words. He wanted desperately to prove that his brothers didn't need to do that.

"I know," said Legolas softly, and all the fight seemed to have gone out of his voice. "But we have lived far too long, and seen far too many things, to still blame ourselves when things go wrong and people get hurt." He settled into silence, and Estel pondered his words. How much had he and his brothers seen? How long had they been fighting against the darkness, the shadow that was covering the land. For a brief moment, he saw things from their eyes, saw the long, dark years go by, and wondered how any of them were still willing to try and protect others, to protect him, after everything they had seen.

He heard the noise of shifting fabric, and then Legolas spoke up. "So how far away are we?" he asked softly.

Elladan glanced up at the sinking sun. "A few hours, maybe less. We can take the more direct route into the valley, the one only Adar, Glorfindel and us know. Regardless, it will be dark when we make it back."

Estel heard Elrohir sigh slightly. "All the more reason to start moving now," he said. Estel felt a hand lightly grasp his shoulder and gently shake him. "Estel?" asked Elrohir softly. "Estel, wake up."

Estel cracked open his eyes again and raised his head, wincing slightly at the spinning sensation it caused. He realised now that the thing his head had been resting on had been his brother's leg, with a cloak pillowed over it. At some point, they had moved him to a more comfortable position. He didn't know whether to be grateful or ashamed.

Estel blinked, and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Aye?" he asked, pretending he had just woken up and had not listened to their conversation.

"We are leaving," said Elrohir, getting to his feet and pulling Estel up with him. Elladan was already on his feet, gathering up the few supplies they had taken out of their packs. Elrohir picked up a waterskin. "Here," he said, handing it over. "Drink."

Estel took a long gulp, his eyes straying from brother to brother to Legolas. He could tell that his brothers especially were still angry, a strange and unsettling calmness having settled over them. He had no doubt that their minds were still thinking of the orcs. The same calmness was over Legolas as well, though to less extent, as he winced, getting to his feet and limping slightly to the horses.

And Estel knew at that point that his brothers and Legolas would hunt down those orcs and kill them. They would have done it even if Estel had not been harmed because of them, but Estel guessed that now it was a little more personal for his brothers. For as long as he could remember, Elladan and Elrohir had sought to protect him, and now he had been hurt, and they had not been able to prevent it, not fully.

Estel thought that maybe Legolas felt the same way. After all, the blond elf spent his whole life fighting orcs and all manner of foul creatures, and protecting others, like he had protected Estel earlier today. Estel supposed he did not like seeing those he was meant to protect getting hurt.

Elrohir helped Estel, though the young man only accepted it grudgingly, up onto his horse. Elladan mounted up, and Legolas passed him up the few remaining packs, before buckling his quiver back on, and checking his knives, quickly pulling them out and looking over the blades. Estel glanced over at him, wondering why he was checking his weapons thoroughly when they were inside the borders of Imladris, and were safe.

Legolas glanced up and saw Estel looking. He sheathed his blades and picked up his bow, carefully running one hand down the string. "What is it, Estel?" he asked, limping over to the horses.

Estel frowned. "We are inside Imladris' borders. Why check your weapons so well?"

Legolas chuckled slightly. "This is not a thorough check, Estel. But it is a force of habit. In Mirkwood, we may be called upon to fight at any moment. It is habit to keep our weapons at hand and ready." He gave a brief smile, but it did not reach his eyes, which were tinged with something else.

Elladan held out a hand to Legolas. "We need to move out if we want to use the remaining daylight," he said. "We must hurry." Legolas nodded and grasped Elladan's hand, jumping up off of his good ankle and vaulting up behind Elladan on the horse. Estel felt Elrohir leap up behind him on his horse, and then the two horses began to move off down the track towards Imladris.

Estel leant back a little against Elrohir, and he felt his brother's arm encircle his waist, holding him steady as they cantered down the track. His eyelids began to grow heavy, and despite the throbbing pain in his splintered arm and the slight dizziness, he slowly sank back into sleep once more.

0-o-0-o-0

The next time Estel opened his eyes, it was dark. Estel could tell they were still moving from the rocking motion of the horse's canter underneath him, and the gentle rustling of the wind. The light from the moon was enough to see vague shapes by, but Estel could not tell where they were.

He groaned slightly at the ache in his arm, and shivered. Now the sun had gone in, it was cold. The arm that was wrapped around his waist tightened slightly, and Estel felt Elrohir shift a little beneath him.

"Hold up," he called out, Estel supposed to Elladan and Legolas. "I think Estel is awake."

Estel felt the horse slow down and finally come down to a walk. He shifted in the saddle and sat up a little. "How far out are we?" he muttered.

Estel felt Elrohir shift behind him, and then a waterskin was pressed into his hands. "Drink," Elrohir said softly. "We are less than a league out of Imladris. We should be home soon."

"Good," muttered Estel, taking a long sip from the waterskin. The cold water seemed to seep into his stomach, waking him up a little and making him feel sick at the same time. He grimaced and handed the skin back to Elrohir.

"How long has it been dark?" he muttered, his eyelids already drooping again from exhaustion.

"Not long," said Elladan from nearby. "Less than an hour, maybe. There is enough light from the moon to see by, though." Estel looked over to see Elladan, with Legolas sat behind him. Legolas' blond hair almost shone in the moonlight, and the white bandages around his ankle stood out harshly against the greens and browns of his clothing. But had Legolas had the hood of a cloak up, Estel would have hardly been able to see him in the near darkness. It was impressive.

"We need to move on," said Legolas, his voice soft in the darkness. He glanced around him. "Bad weather is coming soon, I think."

Estel glanced up at the sky. It was clear, the moon bright, and there was not a cloud that he could see. He knew storms often rolled rather quickly into the valley, and could come on in a few hours, but he doubted that there would be one tonight.

"Are you sure?" asked Elrohir, thinking along the same lines as Estel. Legolas nodded.

"The trees are almost nervous," he said. "We are in the borders of Imladris, and they are not worried for us or anything else specific. Usually this means a storm in Mirkwood."

Estel frowned, but both Elladan and Elrohir seemed to instantly accept Legolas' claims, for they both turned their horses down the track, and nudged them on towards Imladris.

Estel's eyes began to droop shut, yet he did not fully sleep. He dozed instead, listening to the steady rustle of the woods around him, and sometimes the hushed conversations of his brothers and Legolas. He didn't bother to make out the words, though. The cold steel tones of his brothers, and the tight answers of Legolas, made him think it was probably a conversation he didn't want to listen to. From the few words and phrases that slipped through into his mind, Estel figured they were talking about the orcs. They weren't arguing, though. Estel could tell from the general tone that they were all in agreement over whatever the conversation was about.

And then suddenly the sound of the hooves striking packed earth changed to the clattering of hooves on stone, and Estel opened his eyes to see the familiar and very welcome sight of the house of Imladris, the doors open and a golden light spilling from the hall. The two horses pulled up in the courtyard, and Estel felt Elrohir slip off from behind him, and he leant forwards and dismounted, Elrohir's steadying hand on his back.

A moment later Estel glanced up to see Elladan putting out a hand to steady Legolas as he stepped on his injured ankle and stumbled. Legolas rolled his eyes and muttered something, but he briefly accepted Elladan's hand on his arm as he tested his ankle again, before stepping forwards with a limp towards the doorway.

And then Legolas paused, glancing up the steps to see a silhouette in the light from the doorway. Elladan and Elrohir followed his gaze, Estel looking up a second later, and all three elves then seemed to share a glance of what Estel would have sworn was worry. But that couldn't be right, because they were in Imladris now, and there was nothing to be worried about.

Or maybe there was, thought Estel, as the silhouette turned into Glorfindel, running down the steps and onto the courtyard. The blond elf's face was worried as he looked over all four of them, his fingers tapping lightly on the sword at his belt.

"First things first," he said. "Is anyone hurt?"

Estel felt Elrohir look pointedly at him, before speaking up. "Estel has broken his arm, and hit his head badly, and Legolas has cut up his ankle, but other than that we are alright. They can both walk."

Glorfindel turned to Estel. "Are you alright, penneth?" he asked, his voice softer. Estel nodded, the exhaustion that had been creeping up on him throughout the ride back to Imladris threatening to overwhelm. He leant into Elrohir, who slipped a supporting and comforting arm around his shoulders. Glorfindel looked at him, looking like he was not entirely convinced, but turned to Legolas.

"How badly injured are you?"

Legolas sighed slightly. "I am fine, Lord Glorfindel. The skin is torn, but it is nothing bad."

Glorfindel sighed. "I will believe that when I hear those words from Lord Elrond's mouth, Legolas. But seeing as you are standing without assistance, and do not look like you have more blood outside you than inside, I will take your word."

Elladan and Elrohir chuckled at that, and even Glorfindel smiled a little, some of the worry leaving his face. "So now I know that nothing is life threatening," he said. "Will someone please explain what in the name of the Valar has happened?"

All three elves' expressions hardened. Legolas spat out one word. "Yrch."

0-o-0-o-0

The door flung open and Glorfindel walked into the healing wards. Elrond looked up from where he was sitting, setting the plaster around Estel's arm. Legolas was sitting in the next bed over, his newly wrapped ankle propped up on a pillow. Elladan and Elrohir were standing at the foot of his bed, watching as Elrond looked after their little brother.

Both of the twins looked over as Glorfindel entered. "What's happening?" asked Elrohir.

Glorfindel looked out of the window at the night sky. "We cannot send out riders," he said. "A storm is brewing at the head of the valley, and I can't risk the horses in the dark and the mud. A patrol will ride out in the morning to scout out the orcs' location."

Elladan shook his head. "By the morning, we will be able to ride out."

Elrond looked up and shook his head. "Ion," he said softly.

Elladan stared back at him stubbornly. "We are going, Adar. If we delay any longer, the orcs could be too far away from here to track them quickly." There was a set to his jawline, mirrored by Elrohir, which Estel knew meant that neither of his brothers would be dissuaded from their course of action. And Estel knew that his brothers had more reasons than they were giving, for hunting the orcs as soon as tomorrow.

Elrond looked carefully at his two sons for a few moments, his gaze unreadable. Finally he sighed ever so slightly, and turned back to Estel's arm. Elladan and Elrohir nodded at Glorfindel, who gave a resigned sigh and nodded back at them. "The storm should blow itself out by the morning," he said. "Though some of the weather may still linger. It looks like heavy rain."

Legolas shifted on the bed with a grimace, and an annoyed look from Elladan. "For the love of the Valar!" Elladan cried in irritation. "Can you not stay still?"

Legolas grinned. "My apologies," he said wryly. He glanced out of the window as a roll of thunder sounded over the valley. "The tracks are going to be lost soon," he said. "Though the starting point will be easy enough to find with the horses."

Estel gulped as he remembered the frightened scream of Legolas' horse as it had fallen in the snare, and the blood that had spilled from both of their necks. He breathed in deeply, quelling the nausea that had risen at the images of their dead horses. He was getting quite good at not being sick.

Legolas shifted again, and then swung his legs off the bed. Elrond glanced up. "Do not damage that ankle any more," he said. "If you do, I shall make sure Glorfindel chains you to that bed."

Legolas chuckled slightly, and gingerly stood up. Elladan moved over and gripped Legolas' upper arm tightly as the blond elf put some weight on his ankle. A few moments later he nodded, standing up straight, and Elladan let go.

"It is fine," said Legolas, walking a few steps. He was only limping slightly. He looked up and caught Elladan and Elrohir's sceptical gazes. "I am telling the truth!" he said. "It is not too bad."

Elrohir looked over at Elrond. "Adar?" he asked. "Is he telling the truth?"

Elrond looked over at Legolas, and was impressed by the innocence that the young Thranduilion managed to suddenly portray, though he had seen the act before. He smiled slightly. "Aye, he is, ion," he said.

Elrohir snorted softly. "For once," he muttered, glancing over at Legolas, who flashed a smile at him. Elrohir's gaze fell back to Estel. "How are you doing, tithen muindor?"

Estel glared at Elrohir, but seeing as his hair had fallen over his face, the resulting look was cuter than he intended, and both of the twins grinned at him. Estel sighed.

"How much longer do I have to wait?" he asked. "Surely the plaster is set by now."

Elrond smiled slightly. "Almost done," he murmured, tapping the plaster covering Estel's arm from below his elbow to his hand. "A few more minutes, and then you need to go and sleep." He glanced up at Glorfindel, standing nearby. A silent conversation passed between them, and then Glorfindel nodded, the faintest of nods.

The blond elf, in turn, looked over at Elladan and Elrohir, who were standing on either side of Legolas now. The archer looked irritated with this, and was refusing to steady himself on either of them. Actually, thought Glorfindel, the young Thranduilion looked remarkably steady on his feet, and alert. Perhaps the wound was as minimal as he said.

Glorfindel caught Elladan's eye, and flicked his eyes back to the door, inclining his head slightly. Elladan raised his head, and then nodded in understanding. He turned to the two other elves beside him.

"It is late," he said, an unspoken conversation going on between the three elves as he spoke. "We should retire if we are to leave tomorrow." There was a nod of agreement from both Elrohir and Legolas, and then the three elves quietly left the room, Glorfindel following. Elrohir gently squeezed Estel's shoulder as they passed, and Elladan reached over to ruffle his hair. Estel ducked, but he was unsuccessful. Legolas chuckled as he watched, and briefly grasped Estel's shoulder.

"Sleep well," he murmured, before the door swung shut on them. Estel turned back to his father.

Elrond looked up at his son, with a sad smile. He was still so young. It was remarkable how much Estel was growing to look like his forefathers, like Elendil and Isildur of old. In fact, it was becoming an argument between himself and Glorfindel about who Estel looked like more, Elendil or Isildur, or possibly Anarion.

"How are you, ion?" he asked softly.

Estel almost groaned. "Adar, I am fine," he said exasperatingly. He wasn't, of course, but he didn't want to talk about it, definitely not to his father. For some reason, talking it over with Elrond did not feel like something he wanted to do. He didn't know why. Estel's gaze fell down to the cast on his arm. It wasn't hurting anymore, the limb immobile. It wasn't even a bad break, according to Elrond, and would only take a few weeks to heal.

"Estel."

The voice was soft, and Estel glanced up to meet Elrond's concerned gaze. The elf sighed, and gently placed one hand on Estel's shoulder, his fingers running over the tense muscle underneath them. Still so young.

"Estel, you are not alright," he began softly. "You need time to think this through, ion, but if you need to talk to someone-"

"No," said Estel abruptly. "I don't need to talk to anyone. I can handle this, Adar. I am not a child."

Elrond nearly argued back, nearly said that yes, he was still a child, but he stopped himself. He gently rested his hand against Estel's cheek. "It will look better in the morning, ion-nin," he murmured. "Go and get some rest."

Estel stood up quickly, blinking as a sudden dizziness assaulted him. He nodded, paused for a moment, and then turned to go towards the door. Elrond watched him leave.

At the door, Estel paused. He didn't know what to think. He certainly didn't know what to say. Would things look better in the morning? Was all he needed time, time to sort out the jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions in his head? He didn't know.

He coughed self-consciously; suddenly aware he was standing there with one hand on the door, about to push it open. He turned around and looked over at where Elrond was sat, clearing away the supplies on the bed in front of him.

"Goodnight, Adar," he said softly. Elrond looked up and smiled.

"Goodnight, ion."

The door swung open and then shut, Estel leaving. Elrond watched the closed door with a small sigh.

"He needs time to think," he said to what seemed like no-one, standing up and beginning to clear away the mess of bandages and cloths from treating Legolas and Estel.

A shadow moved amongst shadows in the corner, and then Glorfindel was leaning elegantly against the wall. "Will he not talk to you?" he asked softly.

Elrond shook his head. "Nay, he said. "But I can tell what is on his mind. He is afraid, afraid that he is not brave or strong enough to be a man, to do what his brothers do. And he is ashamed that he feels fear. He is ashamed that he was scared when he was in that tree with the orcs milling beneath him, that he did not know what to do, and that he had to rely on his brothers and Legolas to save him."

Glorfindel sighed. "He does not understand, then," he murmured. "Maybe if I…"

"If you talked to him?" questioned Elrond. "I fear that would do more harm than good, maybe. Estel looks up to you, mellon-nin. You are a fabled warrior, and for someone like you to know about what Estel supposes is a weakness…" He trailed off. "Suffice it to say that he will not be less ashamed."

"Yet he needs to understand," said Glorfindel pointedly. "If not us…" He sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. "Then whom? There is no-one here who is even close to his age. Maybe if Gilraen was here, then she could help, but she is not returning for another month at least." He sighed again. "She always knows what to say to him."

"She is mortal," pointed out Elrond. "We are not."

"What of Elladan and Elrohir?" asked Glorfindel. "They seem more like mortals; they are more present, if that is the right word. Legolas, as well, is like that. Maybe Estel would listen to them. Maybe Legolas would be able to say something. He is, after all, the youngest of them, and he has spent a lifetime fighting the darkness and teaching others to fight it as well. He could speak to Estel tomorrow." Glorfindel suddenly stopped, and shook his head. "I forgot. He is going with Elladan and Elrohir at first light."

"What?" asked Elrond, looking over at Glorfindel. The blond elf shrugged.

"I spoke to him, and he seemed adamant about it. You know as well as I do that we have little sway over what he truly sets his mind to. If it helps, I made him promise to stay up in the trees, unless he truly had to be on the ground. His ankle does not seem that bad. Both you and I suspect he has fought with worse in Mirkwood."

"Aye," said Elrond, grinding his teeth slightly. "Yet it is foolish, Glorfindel."

"Would you rather he stayed behind, and your sons lost one of the best archers acting as backup for them as they hunted orcs?" asked Glorfindel quietly. Elrond looked up at him.

"Did you manipulate Turgon the same way?" he asked with a tight smile. Glorfindel chuckled.

"Aye, and Ecthelion when the need arose," he said. "It worked, Elrond, and it is working now. Believe me, I would be happier if they all stayed here, but that is not going to happen. Elladan and Elrohir are going to hunt those orcs regardless of what we say." He sighed. "Yet another thing I doubt Estel fully understands. He has a lot of growing up to do."

"He is safe for now," said Elrond softly. "We will keep him safe for as long as we can."

Glorfindel pushed off from the wall, moving to stand by the door. One hand came to rest on the handle. "He cannot be kept in the dark forever, Elrond," he warned. "Estel is growing up. Soon I think he will start asking questions, and then how long can we keep his heritage hidden? He wants to be a man, Elrond. He wants to grow up. And we cannot stop that."

"I know," said Elrond softly. "But we have both seen too many people grow up too fast, mellon-nin. He is still a child."

"Not for much longer." Glorfindel opened the door. "Goodnight, Elrond," he murmured.

Elrond nodded back. "Goodnight." The door swung shut.

Chapter Text

Estel awoke with a gasp. He sat up, and for a brief few moments he wasn’t in his room, lying in tangled sheets, but sitting again on the branch of the tree, the orcs milling about below him. He could still see the arrow headed straight for him.

Estel sat there, until the images faded and he once again saw the dark interior of his room in Imladris. The fire was burning low, and a sudden gust of wind slammed against the shutters separating off the balcony.

Estel slipped out of bed, his bare feet flinching as he touched the cold floor. Quietly he padded to the shutters and threw one back, slipping out onto the balcony. Outside it was grey, thick clouds covering the night sky. A hint of light told Estel that it was very early morning. The light was enough for him to see by, if not clearly, and he sighed, moving forwards to lean on the balcony.

This part of the balcony was protected by an overhang, but outside the rain was falling heavily, drumming on the ground, the sound obscuring everything but the shriek of the wind and the rustling of the trees as they swayed. Estel stayed still, watching.
“You cannot sleep?”

The voice made him jump, and Estel spun around to see Legolas sitting on the other end of the balcony. For some reason he was fully dressed in his usual green and brown hunting clothes, and his long blond hair was flattened down by the rain.

Estel raised one eyebrow. “What are you doing here?” he asked softly. “You do have your own room.”

Legolas shrugged and got smoothly to his feet on the balcony rail, walking over to where Estel was leaning on it. A strong gust of wind made him sway, and Estel almost gasped, but the blond elf quickly righted himself and sat down on the rail next to Estel.
“I was in the trees,” he said. Now Estel could look at him properly, he could see that Legolas’ cloak was soaked, along with his leggings and tunic. “If I can, I stay in the branches when I am here, especially after a hunt or fight.” A smile tugged at the corner of the elf’s mouth. “It is peaceful.”

“You are soaked through,” pointed out Estel. Legolas shrugged slightly.

“I do not mind. I can change in the morning.” He settled on the balcony rail, before turning again to Estel. “You did not answer my question.”

“What?” asked Estel, only half paying attention to the blond elf. His mind was still too full of orcs and arrows and fear. He grimaced at the feeling, gulping it down. His left arm, secured in the white cast, itched, and he futilely tried to scratch it. It didn’t work.

“You cannot sleep,” said Legolas, a statement this time, not a question. “And I imagine that when you try, you see everything that has happened his day, and then you wake.”

Estel glared at him. “I am fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I am not a child, and I can cope! I do not need everyone treating me like a wounded pup.”

“If you are fine, then why can you not sleep?” asked Legolas, his voice suddenly sharp. Estel, surprised at the change, looked over at him.

“I know what it is you are thinking, Estel,” said Legolas, softer now. “Or I know roughly what is on your mind. And I am not the only one. Your brothers will know, as soon as they see you, and I wager Lord Elrond and Glorfindel do as well.”

“Oh really?” asked Estel, anger rising as Legolas continued to poke at the matter. “Really, Legolas? What is it I am thinking, then?”
Legolas paused for a minute. “You are angry,” he said slowly, with a roll of his eyes from Estel at the obvious statement. Legolas continued. “Because you do not know how to make sense of the thoughts running through your head. You are angry because you wanted to prove yourself to be a man, and you think you have failed in that regard. Moreover, you are ashamed that you felt fear, that you were afraid of the orcs, because it means that you are not ready.”

Estel gaped at him, and Legolas smirked slightly at his expression. Quickly Estel shut his mouth. “Lucky guess,” he muttered.
“Not a guess,” said Legolas. “I have lived for a long time, Estel. I have known others who have struggled with the same thing. And I know that you need to talk to someone. Not Lord Elrond, maybe, or Lord Glorfindel, but someone you trust. Speak to your brothers, if you do not trust me enough.”

“I trust you,” said Estel suddenly. He didn’t really know why, and he didn’t know that he did until he had said those words, but he trusted the blond archer. After all, Legolas had looked out for him earlier this day, and there was something about the elf that reminded him of his brothers- a fierce determination that would not allow them to do anything but their best, when it came to what they did.

“You barely know me,” said Legolas softly. Despite this, he smiled at Estel. He himself trusted a lot of people, mainly his warriors, but there were only a few that he truly, properly trusted with everything. It was more than being able to trust them with his life- he trusted many of his warriors with his life. But the few that he explicitly trusted, he trusted them with more. He just wasn’t sure what.

Either way, it had been a long time since Legolas had seen someone trust as openly as Estel. He supposed it was his age- he was so young. In Mirkwood, it wasn’t as if trust was hard earned amongst the warriors- after all, they had to constantly have each other’s backs, and so any lack of trust amongst them was pretty harmful. Yet it was a different kind of trust to the open, almost instinctive trust Estel now had in Legolas. In Mirkwood, they trusted one another because they had to. Estel was trusting Legolas because he could.

And as Legolas watched Estel, he smiled. “So I am right?” he asked softly. “What I described- that is close enough?”

Estel felt the slightly more pleasant thoughts of trusting Legolas fly out of his head, and his mouth felt dry. He jerked his head in a nod. “Aye,” he muttered.

Legolas slipped down from the balcony rail, and turned so he was leaning on the balcony rail next to Estel. The storm outside reminded them of itself as a gust of wind blew into them, sending Legolas’ blond hair flipping across his face. The elf looked over at Estel pulling his hair out of the way.

“I was told this many, many years ago,” he said. “By a good friend of mine. Estel, nobody is ever ready. Nobody is ever not afraid.”
Estel snorted. “Like I believe that,” he said. “You and my brothers have been fighting for centuries. How can you be afraid anymore? How can orcs cause in you the same fear that…” He trailed off, unable to voice the last part of that sentence: that they cause in me.
Legolas shook his head. “I may not be afraid of orcs anymore,” he said. “But there is always something, in any fight, that will find a way into your head. You have to learn to block it out, Estel, but it is always going to be there.”

Estel was silent, and Legolas sighed. “Do you know how old I was when I first fought orcs?” he asked, the memory springing unbidden to his mind. Estel shook his head.

“I was near forty,” said Legolas. “And I was terrified. It was the first time I had used my weapons in a real fight. That fear never really leaves you, but I pray to the Valar that you never get to the point where you are so adept at covering it, that it is almost like it isn’t there. That is what has happened to your brothers and I, to many of the warriors that I know. The fear never leaves us; we have just become incredibly good at hiding it, because we have to.”

Estel ground his teeth. “But…” he began, and he finally gave in to the maelstrom of thoughts in his head and began to spit them out. Why he was telling this to Legolas, he didn’t know. He supposed that it was easier to say these things, these horrible things that you are ashamed of, to someone you knew enough to trust, but not well enough for them to have any idea about who you should be. That way, there is no way to let them down.

“I shouldn’t be afraid,” Estel insisted. “I have spent a large part of my life so far, training to be this fighter, this warrior, and now…?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Now I don’t know what to do.”

“It will come,” said Legolas. “You are already adept, Estel. Believe me when I say that you coped well yesterday.” It was a strange feeling that everything had happened only the day earlier. To Estel, it felt like it had been days.

Estel snorted. “I spent most of the time trying not to be sick,” he muttered. “When…” He began to talk, and then suddenly all the words came rushing out of him. “When I was in that tree, and you had gone, I was so afraid. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know that I could do anything, anything at all. I was useless, and I was afraid, and now, now I am ashamed because I shouldn’t be afraid! I shouldn’t feel fear, because I am meant to be a man, and I want to be grown up, but how can I be, when I was so afraid? I…I just…” He dropped his head. “I just want…”

“What?” asked Legolas, his voice suddenly harder. “You just want to not have to fight? Or to not feel fear? Or you just wish that there was no need for any of us to fight, no darkness to keep at bay.” Estel nodded awkwardly, and Legolas, his gaze slightly cold, looked over at him.

“Wanting things to happen does not make them happen,” he said. “We don’t get to pick our roles sometimes, and we don’t get to pick what we feel. You are going to feel fear. In times to come, you may be scared, or terrified. What for, I cannot say, but it will happen. It happens to everyone. That is life, Estel, and life right now is growing dark. There will be fighting ahead, and somehow I do not see you as someone who will sit back and not stand against the shadow.”

Legolas looked out over Imladris, the rain easing off slightly now. “Things are growing darker, Estel, and you have a right to be afraid. But it doesn’t make you a coward.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked Estel. “I feel like…” He cursed softly, some expression he had learnt from his brothers.

“You honestly think you are a coward just because you were afraid?” asked Legolas. “Ai Valar, Estel, don’t you understand? It’s all right to be afraid, it really is. Fear keeps you sharp, and becoming fearless is impossible anyway. You have to learn how to control your fear, but it will always be there.”

“Have you been afraid?” asked Estel suddenly, his voice soft. All the fight had gone out of it, for now at least.

Legolas nodded. “More times than I can count,” he replied. “You will learn to control it, Estel.” He watched the young man carefully, trying to see if he was getting through to him at all. At some points, he thought Estel was listening. And then he changed his mind as the young man became defensive all over again.

Legolas was not even sure why he was doing this. He was leaving with Elladan and Elrohir early in the morning, and though he had rested, it would not harm him to rest a little more, before the inevitable preparation of supplies and weapons that came before a hunt. He was not even particularly close to Estel- he had only known the mortal for a couple of days. Yet there was something about him that Legolas instinctively liked, something that reminded him of Elladan and Elrohir at times, and of Bard when they had first met at other times. He was not sure.

Estel sighed, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I should be able to,” he muttered. “I am meant to be grown up-”

“Says who?” asked Legolas. “Have your brothers, or Lord Elrond, said this to you? Has anyone said to you that you have to grow up, right now?” He shook his head slightly at the irritated, yet upset look on Estel’s face.

“I am mortal, in case you haven’t noticed,” spat out Estel, the fight suddenly back in his voice. “I don’t have the luxury of hundreds of years to grow up. I have to do it now.” He leant back on the balcony, running his hands through his hair.

“And I can’t,” he muttered, as much to himself as to Legolas. “I should be able to cope. Ai Valar, I should! And yet I cannot even sleep without seeing it all again in my dreams.”

“You have fought orcs before, though, have you not?” asked Legolas. “Your brothers mentioned it to me.” Estel looked up at him, irritated that he knew that, but he nodded anyway.

“Aye,” he muttered. “But I had at least one of my brothers beside me the entire time, as well as Glorfindel, and was kept out of most of the fighting.” He chuckled morosely. “And they thought I didn’t notice.” His mind drifted back to that time, a few months ago.

He had been scared then, but both his brothers had assured him that it was normal for his first fight. And besides, he had known that he wasn’t in much danger throughout the fighting. He had killed one or two orcs, and it had kept him awake for a few days, but this…this was different.

Yesterday, he had been powerless. He hadn’t expected the fear to continue after his first fight, and then he had felt ashamed that it had, like he was not living up to expectations. Yesterday, he had been unable to fight, he had not been safe, and he had been afraid. And that was why he couldn’t sleep at night.

And it seemed that Legolas understood it, because he just nodded as Estel eventually got the words out and told him. When he was done, his head resting in his hands, Legolas merely squeezed Estel’s shoulder.

“You need to sleep,” he said. “Go to bed, Estel. Things will look better in the morning.”

Estel straightened up from the balcony. He felt so dead tired, that maybe he could actually sleep without dreaming now. That would be useful. He turned around and stumbled back inside, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Legolas paused in the doorway from the balcony to the room. For a moment the wind whipped his hair, catching it and sending it flying around his head. “We will be gone when you are awake,” he said softly. “But the hunt should be quick. If we are lucky, we will be back in the night.”

Estel frowned. “Wait, we?” he asked. “You are going as well? You do know you are injured?”

A swift grin passed across Legolas’ face. “I know,” he said. “But it is not bad, and I am staying in the trees if possible.”

“What about that wound in your side, the one from Mirkwood?” asked Estel. “It was bleeding yesterday, and I am betting you have not told Adar about it, which, by the way, will not make him pleased. Is that alright?”

Legolas grinned slightly. “You are getting as bad as your brothers,” he said. “That wound is fine. It is old, and the bleeding stopped in a few minutes yesterday. I have not aggravated it, and you cannot use that to keep me here.” He smiled, having guessed Estel’s reason for bringing it up. “I will not stay behind whilst your brothers go hunting, Estel. I owe them that much.” Legolas’ gaze softened slightly. “Get some sleep.” And then he turned, vaulted onto the balcony, and in seconds, was gone.

Estel dragged himself under the covers. The words that Legolas had spoken revolved in his head, around and around, until they coalesced into something that seemed to make sense. Estel felt a small smile flash across his face as he realised what it was he was going to do.

Yes, he was afraid, and that fear was not going anywhere. But more than ever he wanted to prove himself, to prove to his brothers and Legolas and Adar that he was better than that fear. So come first light, he knew what he was going to do. He just needed to pack a bag, grab a sword, take a horse without being noticed, and then follow his brothers and Legolas’ tracks to join the fight against the orcs.

0-o-0-o-0

The pale grey light of very early morning filtered through the clouds overhead and onto the courtyard. It had stopped raining, though the ground was still soaked through and the wind was blowing.

In the courtyard stood three horses, two with tack, and one with only a simple blanket over its back. Around them three elves moved, swiftly and silently, carefully packing saddlebags and checking weapons.

Legolas glanced up at the sky as he checked the arrows in his quiver, pulling out each and every one to make sure the point and the fletching were perfect. His practised hands ran over the final arrow, before replacing it in the quiver and swinging it onto his back. He glanced up again as he did up the straps, not even needing to look to do so.
“It looks like more rain,” he said quietly.

Elrohir looked over from where he was buckling something to his saddle. “We may miss it,” he muttered, glancing up at the gathering clouds. “We are riding out of the valley, and it looks to be veering northeast.”

Legolas nodded, sliding his knives out of their sheaths and flipping them in his hands, checking them despite the fact he sharpened them only an hour or so ago. “Are we ready?” he asked.

“Aye,” said Elladan, swinging himself up onto his horse. Elrohir nodded and followed suit, and then Legolas vaulted on, a slight touch of his horse’s neck turning the grey mare around towards the track. This horse was not his- she was borrowed from the stables of Imladris. After all, his own stallion was lying dead on the track, where he had fallen in the snare. She was a sweet horse, quiet, but not the same as his own had been.

Glorfindel stepped out from where he had been standing by the doorway inside. “Be careful,” he said. “Legolas, do not leave those trees unless you have to. I am not going to answer to Elrond if you do injure that ankle even more.”

Legolas smiled, a grin flashing swiftly across his face. “Aye, my Lord,” he said.

Elladan nudged his horse forwards slightly, his hand flitting to his sword, as if to check it is secured there properly. There was no need to check, for he knew it was, but the cool metal hilt set with stones was a reassuring touch in his hand. He didn’t need to look over to Elrohir to know that his brother was doing, or had done, the same, and that Legolas would be running one hand down his bow, like he did before every hunt or outing. To them, the touch of weapons was one of the most reassuring things, after so many years fighting.

“We may even be back just after nightfall,” said Elladan. “It depends on whether the orcs have moved on, or have stayed in the area, and how easy the tracks are to find.”

Legolas looked up from where he had been running a hand down the string of his bow. “They will have probably stayed close,” he said. “They know we are around here, and they have a plentiful supply of meat from mine and Estel’s horses. It is unlikely they would move out, so if luck is on our side, we will find them quickly and kill them. Then we should be back in the night.”

Glorfindel nodded. “May the grace of the Valar be with you three,” he said, as the horses wheeled around and the three elves pushed on out of the courtyard, out of the gates of Imladris and towards the woods. Soon the sound of galloping horses was swallowed by the damp trees.

Glorfindel sighed, and turned to go back inside. “Let us hope that you will not need it.”

0-o-0-o-0

Estel ducked down as he heard the slight footsteps of an elf passing in front of the window. A swift glance up revealed it was Erestor, probably heading to the library again. Estel held his breath as he passed, keeping completely still, before swiftly moving away and over the grass towards the stables.

So far, things were going to plan. Elrond had stopped by his room earlier to check his arm and the head injury he had been given yesterday, and Estel had simply pretended to be in a mood about his brothers leaving, and declared he would stay in his room all day. It seemed childish, but hopefully it would work, and nobody would think to check on him for at least a few hours.

Keeping low, Estel ran over to the back of the stables and slipped in by one of the back doors. The smell of hay and horses met him, and he briefly smiled. Three of the stalls were already empty, his brothers and Legolas having taken the horses at first light. Estel, keeping an eye out for anyone who might come in, moved down to the stall nearest the end, where a swift brown stallion was looking at him expectantly.

“Be quiet!” Estel hissed as the horse nickered at him. He quickly slipped the bridle from the peg next to the stall, dumping his pack and weapon on the floor underneath the saddle.

The sword was his in a sense. It was the one that he had used when they had fought the orcs a month or so ago, and he had fought with it before, when he had been taught how to handle a sharp blade, rather than the blunted sparring weapons he had learnt with. But he didn’t have a true sword of his own, not yet. Estel supposed it was part of his brothers’ overprotectiveness that they did not want to give him one.

Quickly and quietly, Estel had his horse tacked up and his supplies moved from his pack to the saddlebags, tying the now empty pack behind the rolled up blanket just in case. His brothers and Legolas had said they might be back today, but Estel was not sure how long his arrival would delay things, and whether or not his brothers and Legolas would be able to find the orcs as quickly as they hoped.

“Quiet,” murmured Estel as he took his horse’s reins and began to lead him slowly out of the stall and towards the exit. There was nobody around- he had picked a time when he knew there would be few people around the stables and the track entrances. After all, Estel had long ago worked out the timings and the hidden pathways that would keep him unseen. He had grown up in this valley, after all.

With a tug on the reins Estel drew the horse out of the stables and off to the side, behind a large thicket. Here there ran a small pathway, barely wide enough for the horse to fit down, but it was going to have to do. Estel’s entire plan relied on him being able to get far enough away from Imladris, and preferably close to his brothers and Legolas, before someone realised he had gone. He knew riders would be sent out after him either way, but if he was already with Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas, then hopefully he would be able to join in the fight. If he could time it right, Estel intended to arrive as his brothers and Legolas ambushed the orcs. That way, they could not object to his presence until the fight was over, and he could prove himself.

He felt a pang of fear go through him, but the strange excitement that also coursed through him made Estel find it easy to control the fear. He would finally do it; he would show that he could be a man.

Finally he came off the tiny track, having effectively bypassed the courtyard and the gates out of Imladris. Swinging himself up into the saddle, Estel gathered the reins. His broken arm, securely set in the plaster cast, did not really hurt, and Estel clenched the fingers into a fist, glad to feel only a slight throbbing. He had brought medical supplies as well, so could dull the pain if the need arose.

A small part of his mind pointed out that he should not be riding out with a broken arm to join in a fight against orcs. That part went on to say how he shouldn’t be doing this at all, and for a moment Estel felt doubt gnaw at him.

But he quickly shook his head. “I am not a coward,” he whispered to himself. “I will not be a coward.” The decision had been made. He had come this far. He could not turn back.

Estel dug his heels into his horse’s side and urged him on down the track, slowly at first, until he knew that the thud of the hooves on the ground would not be heard back at the courtyard. Then he leant forwards and pushed the stallion on slightly.

He was not a coward. He was doing this, and he could not turn back.

Chapter Text

The stench alerted them that they were getting close long before they saw the carcasses.

Legolas grimaced as he reined in his horse. “Tracks,” he said, pointing at the ground, where a myriad of boot prints scuffed up the dirt. “These are from where they chased us down the track yesterday, are they not?”

Elladan dismounted and bent to study the tracks. He nodded shortly. “Aye,” he said, wrinkling his nose as the smell hit him again. “Yet the orcs turned around and headed back here. We have to get closer.”

None of the three elves wanted in particular to come closer to the stench of the carcasses of Estel and Legolas’ horses. Already they had been riding for a few hours, and their horses, having caught wind of the smell, were nervous, unsure of what to spook at. Elrohir tightened his reins.

“We will get as close as we can on horseback,” he said. “And then we can leave the horses and proceed on foot. If we must, we can always lead the horses through the wood and around the carcasses.”

Elladan and Legolas both nodded in agreement, and Elladan vaulted back on his horse. Few words had been exchanged between the three elves as they had ridden, only if necessary to draw up a plan or some other detail to do with the hunt. All three of them were constantly on alert, hands near weapons and eyes scanning the forests.

The horses began to tense up as they neared the stinking carcasses, but with brief words from their riders, they stepped forwards again. These were trained warhorses, and would not balk at the sight that awaited them.

As they rounded the corner of the track, all three elves instantly held their breath for a moment. The stench was appalling, the smell of rotting meat coupled with the lingering stench of orcs. The horses dug their heels in for a brief moment, before walking forwards again, yet they were highly strung, ears twitching at the slightest sound.

There was a brief moment of silence before Elladan spoke. “The orcs have moved on, then,” he said. “I would have thought they would have stayed in the area.”

Legolas slipped from his horse’s back easily, a gentle word to his mare telling her to stay where she was. “They may have just moved away from the track. Orcs are stupid, but they are not stupid enough to stay on a track where we obviously ride.”
Elrohir smiled grimly. “Maybe,” he said. “Are there tracks?”

“Give me a moment,” said Legolas as he stepped forwards and began deciphering the tracks amongst the fallen bodies of the horses. He moved on light feet around the bodies as he followed the footsteps, until suddenly he straightened.

“Up here,” he said briefly, and ran the short distance up the track to the edge of the undergrowth. Elladan and Elrohir both urged their horses on, taking them as far from the carcasses as they could as they made their way up to Legolas. After a whistle from Legolas, his own mare followed.

When they reached him, the blond elf was standing on the edge of the track, looking off intently into the surrounding woods. Legolas raised one eyebrow as they came up next to him.

“They don’t exactly cover their tracks, do they?” he asked, looking down at the trampled down undergrowth and slashed trees where the orcs had passed through. “Do they know this makes it far easier to follow them?”

Elladan grinned, though it was only brief. “I doubt it. Shall we follow?”

Both Elrohir and Legolas nodded, Legolas moving back to his horse and Elrohir and Elladan leaping off of theirs. They would not be able to ride through the forest easily, and their horses needed a rest anyway.

In an instant weapons were out in all three elves’ hands, Elladan and Elrohir gripping their swords with a natural ease, and Legolas with his bow and an arrow fitted to the string. Elladan deftly withdrew a thin coil of rope from a saddlebag, and passed it up to Legolas, who made a quick halter out of it to lead his horse. That done they began to move silently down the track, following the orcs.
Senses were on high alert as they moved, awaiting any sign of the orcs. The tracks were relatively fresh, and thankfully were easy to follow despite the driving rain that had accompanied the storm last night, due to the orcs’ habit of slashing at anything growing in their path.

Eventually they began to draw near to the orcs, the stink of them the first clue that they were coming close. If the twins and Legolas had been moving quietly before, now they were completely silent. They left the horses, tied up to the trees in knots that would come undone if pulled hard enough, on the track, and proceeded on foot.

After only a little while Elrohir, who had been in front, held up a hand and stopped. Elladan and Legolas moved silently to either side of him, and together they looked down.

They were standing on a slight ridge in the woods, the forest floor dipping in front of them down to a shallow gully. It was there, apparently, that the orcs had decided to rest, if only briefly. None of the foul creatures were looking in their direction, though the orcs apparently had enough sense to post a few guards.

It was no matter, though, thought Legolas as he studied them. A head count of twenty one in sight, yet Legolas was pretty sure there were no others around. In unfamiliar, obviously dangerous territory, he knew from experience that they tended to stay closer together. Most of the orcs were taking the opportunity of a short break to rest. The guards were not very alert, more interested in the slabs of horsemeat being torn up than guarding the rest of the orcs. He looked over at Elladan and Elrohir.

They were standing completely still, the only movement the very slight rise and fall of their chests as they breathed, and the blinking of their eyes. All three of them were wearing dark green and brown hunting colours, though only Legolas was used to wearing them. Yet Legolas could see the blank gazes, the control that they were both mastering to stop themselves going in there right now and slaying the orcs. He could, for he knew them well, even see the anger rolling off both of them.

That wasn’t to say that he did not feel it as well. Legolas felt a bitter wave of revulsion at the sight of the creatures. They had taken so much. Yet he knew they had taken more from his friends, and he supposed it helped that he was younger than Elladan and Elrohir by over a thousand years.

Elrohir looked over at him briefly, and Legolas nodded, the rough plan that they had drawn up coming into action. Elrohir lightly touched Elladan on the arm, who nodded, exchanged glances with Legolas and Elrohir, before moving off to the right.

It was a simple enough plan, the way that the twins fought almost every time they hunted orcs. They would come at the orcs from either side, driving them together in the middle, and then cut them down, one by one. Only this time they had backup in the form of Legolas, up in the trees, who was ready to take out any orc that tried to run, or was posing a danger to either of the twins.

Legolas briefly grasped Elrohir’s hand, and then jumped up, grabbing hold of one of the branches and swinging himself up swiftly. As soon as he was crouched on the branch he froze, checking to make sure none of the orcs had seen him move.

They were in luck. Not even the guards, who were doing a rather lacklustre job of guarding, had seen. With silent hands, and with his eyes not leaving the orcs, Legolas pulled out his bow and fitted an arrow to it. He also was acting as lookout in this tree, until Elladan was in place.

A sharp whistle came from the other side of the orcs, where Elladan was obviously in place. Underneath Legolas Elrohir tensed and moved, his sword drawing out with the faintest of shicks as it left the sheath. Legolas drew the string of his bow back, his weapon so well known to him that he didn’t even have to think about the simple movement.

Elrohir whistled, softly like a bird, and then there was movement on the other side of the orcs. The guards turned to see the dark-haired, steel-eyed elf step forwards, a blade in his hand. Legolas watched as Elladan stood tall, and even from the other side of the orcs, hidden in the trees, Legolas could see Elladan’s rage burn cold and settle into the terrifying furious calmness that settled over all of them when they fought.

The orcs surged up with cries and yells, and immediately wicked blades appeared in their hands. They began to surge towards Elladan, and did not notice the other, identical elf behind them run forwards, his blade ready and his eyes burning like ice.
And they did not, would never have noticed the blond elf perched in the trees, who, as he drew the bowstring back to his ear, felt the cold calmness settle over him, before releasing the first arrow. Their fight had begun.

Elladan and Elrohir met the orcs head on, their blades spinning and slashing as the two elves parried blows and, with flicks of their wrists, sent their blades slicing into the necks or stomachs of the orcs. It was almost graceful to watch, in a terrifying, sickening sort of way.

Legolas sat up in the tree, picking off the orcs carefully, making his shots count. One of the problems of being an archer was that arrows ran out. That is why Legolas always had his knives as well. In Mirkwood, they were taught not to rely on one weapon.

As the battle really started in earnest, Legolas began to watch even more intensely, making sure each of his arrows hit the mark and killed the orc. These orcs could fight well. And two against twenty-one was difficult odds, were it not for the fact that they were fighting Elladan and Elrohir, and Legolas was in the trees.

Yet Legolas was starting to notice the little things, indicators that this would be no easy battle. Already both Elladan and Elrohir had minor scratches, and were moving incredibly quickly, barely having time to slide their sword from one orc before they had to turn and block a blow from another. The orcs were crowding around them, making it harder for them to use their full reaches, and they were being separated.

Legolas cursed softly under his breath. If it weren’t for his promise to Glorfindel, he would be down there with them. As it was, he was still in this tree, unable to do more than pick off orcs one by one.

He quickly came to a decision. Forget his promise to Glorfindel. Elladan and Elrohir were far more important. Bow still in his hand, Legolas simply stepped off the branch of the tree, landing in a slight crouch on the ground. Almost immediately he drew his bow up and fired, killing one of the orcs that had seen where the arrows had been coming from, and had drawn away after him.

The cold calm settled over him again and Legolas, in one fluid movement, drew an arrow, nocked, and shot. Another orc fell down to the ground dead.

A sharp sudden twang suddenly made the blond elf duck and dodge to the elf, avoiding the black arrow that buried itself in the trunk of the tree. Legolas looked up, keen eyes searching out the archer amongst the orcs.

The battle now raged all around the woods, orcs baying for blood like hounds on a scent. Legolas drew an arrow and sighted, loosing it and piercing the orc through the arm as the orc tried to dodge. Not his best shot, but the beast would not be shooting any more arrows.

Suddenly his sense screamed at him, shouted in his ear that he was in danger. And not just the general danger of being in a fight, but the immediate, there-is-something-that-might-kill-you-very-soon danger that had him drop and spin around whilst drawing out one of his knives.

An orc stood poised above him, and Legolas almost thrust up with his knife before he realised the orc was quite dead. There was a sucking sound, the sound of a blade being drawn from the orc’s back, and the beast toppled over to reveal…

The cold calmness evaporated as Legolas saw who was standing there, and instead became a quickly fuelled rage. He stood to his feet, battle put away for an instant as faced with this new challenge.

“Estel,” he hissed. “What are you doing here?”

Estel grinned slightly. His sword was poised in his right hand, his left arm, the one in a cast, held closely to his side. “Is it too late to join in?”

0-o-0-o-0

It was as Estel first caught the smell of the horses up ahead on the track that he began to have doubts about what he was doing.
Okay, maybe he had started to question this idea a little while before. Maybe he had been having doubts for a few hours. Maybe he had been thinking this an insane, stupid idea from the moment he took the horse out of the stable. But it was no matter. He was here now, and as he had told himself the other times those doubts had risen, he had to go on. He was not a coward.

Yet when he rounded the corner and saw the carcasses, his stomach rebelled from that thought, and he gagged, feeling the bile rising in his throat. With a supreme effort, Estel forced it back down.

Beneath him his horse was standing stock still, all muscles tensed and eyes staring. Estel tried to push him on, but he balked and refused to move.

“Come on,” muttered Estel as he tapped the stallion with his heels. The horse dug his feet in, and Estel sighed in realisation that he would not go forwards, because he did not trust the rider. He swung himself off the horse, making sure the cast on his left arm didn’t catch on the saddle.

“Easy,” Estel murmured, slipping the reins over his stallion’s head and gently stroking his neck. This time, when he stepped forwards the horse followed him, though his eyes still stared wide at the scene in front of them.

“Come on,” Estel muttered, this time to himself to stop his hands from shaking. He led his horse up the track, following the previous tracks that his brothers and Legolas had left. They disappeared into the woods, and Estel followed.

At first, Estel was happy for the mud caused by the storm last night. The horses had left visible tracks in the mud, and it was almost absurdly easy to follow. The destruction that the orcs had left behind didn’t hurt, either. The mud was deep enough for Estel to even make out the footprints of Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir from where they had led their horses.

Yet pretty soon Estel came to start cursing the mud, though it was in his head. He didn’t know how close he was to the orcs, and couldn’t risk any loud noises. For that reason, he had one hand cupped over his horse’s muzzle, in case he called on seeing his brothers and Legolas’ horses. The mud was deep and thick, and tugged at his ankles with every step that he took. Soon he started slipping everywhere in the mud, one foot after another suddenly going out from underneath him as he tried frantically to regain his balance, grabbing hold of his horse’s saddle to help.

After much slipping and silent cursing, Estel saw the shrouded shapes of horses up ahead. He grabbed hold of his horse’s reins quickly, pulling his head down as the horse spotted the others. “Quiet!” he hissed, using one hand to keep his horse from neighing out.

As quickly as possible in the treacherous mud, Estel got his horse over to the others, who snorted softly upon seeing him, but did not call out. They were well-trained warhorses. Estel quickly tied his horse to the same tree as the others, casting his eyes quickly over them. Two had saddles; they belonged to his brothers. The other, with only a blanket and a few saddlebags, was the quiet mare Legolas had borrowed. Estel gulped as he remembered what had happened to Legolas’ actual horse.

All three were standing still, yet it seemed to Estel they had been waiting for a while. He had spent most of his life learning to ride and look after horses, and could recognise the impatient looks of horses that had been standing around for a while. Yet they had not been stood for so long as to become so impatient that they had begun to shift around. Estel guessed that he was about an hour or so behind his brothers and Legolas.

Carefully he slid his sword out of his sheath, the steel grating as he swung it out. Estel wrapped his fingers around the hilt, balancing the blade in his hand. Gently patting his horse’s neck, he moved off, following the slight footprints that his brothers and Legolas had left behind, and the destruction of the orcs.

The quiet of the woods did not help Estel to focus on tracking his brothers and Legolas, on getting there as quickly as he could. A thousand different things were circling through his mind, a thousand different ideas of what could be happening right now, of what might happen when he catches up with his brothers and Legolas, if he joins the fight.

Estel cursed silently. Was this how his brothers thought before they went hunting? Is this what Legolas had in his head, before he went out on patrol in Mirkwood? Did they too imagine everything that could go wrong, every mistake they could make, every life they could put on the line? Estel wondered how they coped.

All too soon, Estel could hear the clash of steel on steel, over the rise in the woods ahead of him. He crept forwards, balancing on the balls of his feet like he had been taught, his sword gripped tight in his hand.

A sudden flash of movement caught his eye and Estel looked up to see Legolas crouched up in a tree, an arrow nocked to his bow. As Estel watched, the blond elf loosed the arrow, and a gurgling scream from the other side of the rise told Estel he had found his mark. Estel didn’t know where his brothers were, but he assumed that they were in the thick of the fighting. He could hear the clash of their swords and the yells of the orcs, but other than that, he could hear nothing of his brothers. He guessed that was good- if something went wrong, then he would hear it.

Up ahead, Legolas suddenly straightened in the tree, and then, surprising Estel, he dropped down to the ground and loosed an arrow at one of the orcs that had been running towards him. Orcs surged up towards him, and Legolas loosed another arrow, bringing down one more orc.

Estel jumped as suddenly Legolas ducked, and an arrow buried its head in the tree trunk behind him. He watched, frozen, as orcs surged around Legolas, and another arrow was loosed from the blond elf’s bow. Estel could tell that Legolas was harried by the fact the arrow only struck the orc’s arm, and did not kill him.

He had to do something. Legolas was in danger, and even though he had only known the elf for a few days, he liked him. Besides, how could he stand aside and watch someone get hurt, when he knew he could do something? He had to act.

He ran forwards, and as an orc that had managed to get behind the elf raised his sword, Estel lunged forwards and stuck him with his sword from behind. It took a surprising effort, and for a moment the orc hung there, in balance, poised over the blond elf.

Estel’s eyes were wide. He hadn’t even thought. He had just…stabbed. He pulled the sword back and the orc fell to the side with a sickening thump. Estel gazed, wide-eyed, as Legolas stood up from a crouch, his knives ready.
“Estel,” the blond elf hissed. “What are you doing here?”

Estel forced a slight grin on his face. “Is it too late to join in?”

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas’ face showed, instead of the anger Estel had been preparing himself for most of the ride, something that Estel was unable to recognise in the brief seconds that he saw it, before Legolas’ mask shut back down again. For a few seconds, regardless of what was happening around them, the two of them just looked at each other.

Estel saw movement behind Legolas and suddenly realised that orcs were climbing the slope and coming towards them, fast. He froze as an orc came barrelling towards them, scimitar raised.

“Legolas!” he cried out, unable to do anything else as the orc came up behind the elf. At the last moment Legolas spun and raised his knives, meeting the downward stroke of the scimitar and stopping the orc’s blade in its tracks.

And then Estel saw the other orcs approaching, and without truly thinking about it, without realising what it was he was actually doing, he stepped forwards and raised his sword. Just as one of the orcs reached Legolas, who had managed to disarm the orc he had been holding back and was pulling one of his knives out of his chest, Estel brought his sword round in a steel arc, neatly slicing into the orc’s unprotected neck. It dropped down dead.

Estel could feel the breath shuddering out through his mouth as he stared at the orc. It seemed like he stood there for an age, watching the blood first spurt, then slow to a trickle, from the gash in the orc’s neck. It stained the ground black.

Someone grabbed his arm, and Estel jerked his head up to see Legolas tugging at him. The look on his face was something akin to gratefulness, but coupled with annoyance and what Estel thought looked like worry.

Legolas’ eyes flickered down the slope ahead of them, to where the thick of the fighting was. Estel’s eyes widened yet again as he saw his two brothers in the midst of the orcs. One of them slashed at Elladan and the elf jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the blade gashing open his stomach. Yet the orc was quick enough to catch Elladan’s arm, drawing blood.

Without a word Legolas almost jumped forwards, covering the distance between him and the twins in what seemed like moments. Orcs fell as his knives flashed left and right.

Estel stood for a moment, unsure of what to do, until he saw another orc take a swing at Elrohir. The elf danced backwards, and the blade missed, but Estel suddenly realised that his brothers were not as in control of the situation as they would like to be, and they needed help. They probably wouldn’t want it, especially not from him, but wasn’t the whole point of this that he proved himself?

Estel sucked in a breath and ran forwards, his sword held just like his brothers had taught him. An orc loomed up in front of him and he swung, not really sure what he was doing. His mind was so overwhelmed at this point that half the training he had done had just fled his mind. He just did what he thought was right.

With the addition of Legolas and Estel, the orcs started falling down faster, blood gushing from wounds and staining the ground black. Estel gradually made his way towards his brothers and Legolas, who had already reached them.

Elladan turned swiftly on the spot as his senses alerted him to something coming up behind. His sword came up before he realised the shape in front of him, now standing next to him, was not an orc.
“Estel!” he cried out. “What…?”

He was interrupted by the snarl of an orc behind him, and he spun with his sword already pushing up, impaling the beast and pushing it to the side. Elladan immediately turned back, anger now pulsing through him and taking over from the calm fury that normally settled over him and Elrohir, when fighting.

“Estel, get out of here!” he shouted, his blade flicking out and parrying a blow from an incoming orc. Elrohir, hearing the shout, turned around, his bloody blade in his hand.

“Estel?” The confusion in his voice quickly turned to anger as he saw his younger brother there, wielding his sword against the orcs. “Estel!”

“What?” shouted Estel back, momentarily pausing in the fight. He was not good enough to fight and talk at the same time, and had to concentrate hard for the next few moments as he managed to disarm the orc in front of him and cut his legs out from underneath him in a move he was quite proud he remembered.

“Get out, Estel!” shouted Elladan over the clash of steel on steel. Legolas, unlike the others, was not mainly standing still. He ducked and weaved in and out of the orcs, his blades spinning in his hands, and orcs were stumbling and falling down.

“It’s a little too late for that!” shouted back Estel. “I want to help!”

Elrohir growled under his breath. “Not now, Estel!” he called out. “Get out of-”

His sentence was cut off when an orc stepped under his guard and swung the flat of its sword hard at his head. There was a horrible thump as the flat of the blade connected with the side of Elrohir’s head, sending it whipping to the side.

Elrohir crumpled to the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He landed in a heap, his legs underneath him like a broken doll. His head lolled sickeningly, his eyes shut. A trickle of blood ran down over his face, and began to drip onto the floor from the bridge of his nose.

Elladan let out a wordless shout as he saw his brother fall, and seemingly without any thought he leapt forwards and stood over Elrohir’s prone body. The orcs almost seemed to back away from him for a moment, before they remembered that the four was now down to three, and they surged forwards again.

That was a mistake. Even Estel could feel the palpable rage coming off of Elladan, a cold fury he had never witnessed before. A barely perceptible sound came from behind him, and then Legolas was on the other side of Estel, his two knives in his hands as the orcs ringed them.

And then the orcs reached them, and realised they had made a bad mistake. Elladan was almost graceful as he cut the orcs down one by one, and to Estel it was almost sickening, the easy, elegant way he moved, the blade moving almost too swiftly for him to see it.
Estel saw an orc come up around Legolas, who was busy with two others, and instinctively he thrust with his sword and spun the orc’s scimitar to the side. The next thrust caught the orc in the stomach, and he toppled to the floor.

And Estel began to understand, just a little, what rage was. A cold, deep anger that was coursing through him, but it was unlike the hot rage that could easily block your eyes and ears. This anger was different; this anger only helped him to focus, to forget the blood and the groans of the dying orcs and just think of cutting them down. And it was the strangest feeling he had ever felt.

And maybe, when he was not fighting orcs right now and could actually think properly about this, Estel would realise that the cold anger was not something his brothers and Legolas were strangers to. Maybe he would realise that this was what made them so frightening when they fought, because they knew exactly what they were doing, knew exactly where their sword was striking or their bow was aiming. This anger gave no room for excuses, unlike the hot rage that led to foolish actions. And that made it all the more terrifying, both seeing it in his brothers and Legolas, and feeling the first touches of it in himself.

The trio kept fighting as the orcs came at them. Elladan did not leave his stance over Elrohir’s body, and it was Legolas who kept moving, protecting Elrohir by constantly trying to push back the orcs in all places apart from where Elladan was facing. Estel was mainly left to his own, trying to take down any orcs that made it past Elladan or Legolas, or any others that he could reach.

Eventually there were only three orcs left and they suddenly stopped, realising the numbers were even now, and they had no chance. Even as they turned to run, Legolas dropped both his knives and his hand went back to his bow. Two orcs fell to his arrows, and the third fell with the dagger from Elladan’s belt in his back.

For a moment, there was silence.

Elladan dropped to his knees beside Elrohir, the cold fury that had overtaken him dissipating at the sight of his brother, limp and unresponsive on the ground. He gently rolled Elrohir over, catching his head as it fell to the side. “Elrohir?” he asked, and his voice was struggling to remain calm and controlled. ”Brother?”

Elrohir didn’t respond, and worry suddenly leapt up at Estel and grabbed him, making him move forwards and go down on his knees next to Elladan. His brother, the one who was conscious, didn’t say anything, didn’t even look away from his careful examination of the nasty gash on Elrohir’s temple.

Estel felt someone grasp his shoulder, and dimly he was aware of being pulled upwards and away until he was standing. He turned to see Legolas, his eyes dark as he looked at Elladan crouched on the ground.

“Find as many of my arrows that are salvageable as you can,” he said in low tones. “And retrieve any other weapons we have left, like Elladan’s dagger. Quickly. We want to move out as soon as we know if we can.”

“What?” asked Estel. “Why do I have to go and collect those things? Why can’t I stay and watch over Elrohir? He is my brother too!”
Legolas’ gaze almost softened slightly, before he shook his head. “Because you are not meant to be here, Estel,” he said, his voice slightly bitter. “And I do not think Elladan will let you help.”

Estel was about to protest when he looked over and saw Elladan’s tense shoulders, the elf almost tensing them so much so nobody could see him shake as he pressed torn cloth to his brother’s head. A sudden overwhelming guilt washed over Estel, and he nodded shakily, before stumbling away.

He watched as Legolas instantly dropped to his knees beside Elladan, his hand reaching out and gently pulling back the wad of cloth pressed to Elrohir’s neck. He tried to pretend that he missed the look on Legolas’ face that he knew meant it was bad, but he was not that good a liar.

He reached and tugged an arrow out of the neck of an orc, turning his face away as he did so he didn’t have to see it actually happen. Straightening up, he examined the tip of the arrow. It was salvageable, so he slid it into his belt along with the few others he had already found.

Estel’s gaze drifted back to where Elladan and Legolas were crouched over Elrohir, and he suddenly wanted to be sick. Was this his fault?

Chapter Text

Legolas peeled back the was of cloth from Elrohir’s head. “Elladan, I think the bleeding’s stopped,” he said. “We should go.”
Elladan looked up from opposite Legolas. “Aye,” he muttered. His eyes flickered over the dead orcs around the clearing, and Legolas watched as his gaze passed steadily over Estel shakily pulling an arrow out of an orc.

Elladan seemed to shake himself slightly. “Let’s go,” he said. Legolas didn’t need any prompting or words for him to know what to do next. He shifted to crouch on the balls of his feet at the top of Elrohir’s head, and as Elladan gently slipped his arms beneath his brother’s back and knees, Legolas grasped hold of his head. He held the cloth in place and supported Elrohir’s lolling head as Elladan rose to his feet.

Legolas winced slightly as the wound started to bleed again and a trickle of blood ran over his fingers. “Careful,” he murmured as Elladan found his balance with his brother in his arms, though he hardly needed to say it.

Elladan nodded, and that made Legolas almost worry. Normally the dark haired elf would make some sort of comment back, but he had said nothing. Legolas would have been more worried if he didn’t feel the same heart-wrenching worry and guilt that was making it a little hard to speak. Besides, he was pretty sure Elladan was also rather angry at a certain young man who was picking up arrows right now.

Carefully Legolas lifted Elrohir’s head so it was resting securely against Elladan’s shoulder, before looking over Elladan to where Estel was pulling Elladan’s dagger out of an orc’s back. “Estel,” he called. “We are going back.”

Estel looked up abruptly and nodded. Legolas had become quite good at reading faces over the years, and Estel’s was close to an open book. Not quite, because he had seemed to have picked up his brothers’ habit of trying to hide whatever they were thinking, but he was nowhere as good at it as Elladan and Elrohir were.

Anyway, Legolas could see the regular signs of guilt and worry on Estel’s face, though maybe the guilt was more prominent. After all, it is the mind-set of little brothers to believe that their big brothers are invincible. But he recognised the dropped eyes, looking down at the floor, the slight quirk in his mouth that wasn’t a smile, but probably meant he was chewing the inside of his cheek.

They made it back to the horses rather quickly. Unfortunately, Elladan had had practice at carrying a dead weight. As they reached them Estel ran ahead and untied Elladan’s horse, leading him over. Legolas took Elrohir from Elladan as he mounted up, and then carefully handed him up to Elladan. Estel simply hovered in the background.

Swiftly Legolas mounted his mare, and nodded at Estel to do the same. The blond elf reached over and picked up the slack reins of Elrohir’s stallion, and the four of them, Elladan holding Elrohir close to his chest, began to thread their way back through the trees to the path.

0-o-0-o-0

The journey back was not a pleasant experience for Estel. Legolas rode in front, finding the easiest path for them to travel back on. Elladan was next, supporting his unconscious brother in his arms. Elrohir’s head was nestled securely against Elladan’s shoulder, but as they cantered Elrohir slumped sideways until Elladan had to readjust his grip on his brother, pulling him more securely against him. Blood was still slowly trickling down Elrohir’s face; it was staining Elladan’s shoulder a dark red.

And Estel rode behind, his eyes almost never leaving the pale, far too still form of his brother. Guilt didn’t so much as gnaw at him as flood him, whenever Elladan tightened his grip to prevent Elrohir falling out of the saddle, or whenever Legolas would slow and look back, his mask cracking and the worry seeping through, at least until he saw Elladan’s nod at his unspoken question, that Elrohir was still breathing.

At one point, some time after they had crossed the Bruinen, Estel had pushed his horse forwards and attempted to come up beside Elladan. The words had been running through his head for so long now, that it was remarkably easy for them to slip out of his mouth.
“Elladan, I’m sor-”

“No, Estel,” was the blank reply from Elladan, and Estel pulled his horse back a little, frowning. Legolas glanced back as he heard Estel speak, and caught Estel’s eye. Legolas shook his head at Estel’s half-open mouth, as the young man was about to speak. Estel shut his mouth abruptly and fell back.

Disheartened, he spent the rest of the ride home in silence. There were few words spoken at all for the duration, except when Elladan needed to direct Legolas on the quickest paths home. Estel was lost pretty quickly. These were tracks that were almost invisible to him, their entrances hidden by elven hands. Estel hadn’t even known these tracks existed.

But they shortened the journey, by Estel’s guess, by over an hour. It helped that Elladan and Legolas were not letting up on the pace, keeping to a canter whenever it was possible for the horses to do so. Though that did more to unsettle Estel. Apparently Elrohir was hurt badly enough for them to be sacrificing comfort for speed.

The ride home passed in a haze, countless trees blending into one green and brown blur that he could see out of the corner of his eye. In the silence, it was easy for Estel’s thoughts to crowd his head, and main one that was screaming at him, clamouring for attention, was ‘this is your fault’.

So inside his own mind, Estel only noticed that they had gotten home when the muted sound of his horse’s hooves changed to the clatter of shoes on the courtyard of Imladris. Estel looked up in time to pull his horse up and avoid crashing into Elladan. Legolas had already jumped from his horse, leaving her standing in the middle of the courtyard. Guards were flooding from the various archways and doors opening onto the courtyard, and a part of Estel’s mind realised they must have been expecting them.

He swung his leg over his horse’s back and jumped down, one hand finding the reins and keeping his stallion still as the courtyard suddenly erupted with elves. The doors at the top of the steps were flung open and Estel cringed at the flooding guilt as he saw Elrond appear, and the anger over his father’s face.

The anger disappeared immediately when Elrond saw Elrohir, unconscious in Elladan’s arms, and the Peredhel ran down the steps towards them. Estel watched, feeling incredibly detached from it all, as Legolas reached up to Elladan and gently caught Elrohir as Elladan lowered him down.

“Fetch a stretcher,” said Elrond, his voice terse. He hurried over and, as guards that had thought ahead and already fetched a stretcher brought it over, Legolas knelt and carefully laid Elrohir out on the stretcher. Elrond knelt and gently turned his son’s head towards him, taking away the bloody cloth that they had tied around his head to stop the bleeding.

After a few seconds Elrond stood up. “Let’s get inside,” he said softly, and he turned to head on one of the tracks that would take them on a smooth path to the healing wards.

Elladan, who had dismounted and was standing by the side of the stretcher, nodded at the glance he got from his father. Guards had stepped forwards to take the stretcher, but with a look the two at the front backed off, and Elladan stepped forwards. On the other side Legolas did the same, and together, with two other guards at the back, they smoothly picked up the stretcher and began to take it inside.

They passed Estel, who was standing there feeling rather in the background, and disconnected from everything that was happening, and he saw Elladan’s face. It frightened him. His brother’s face was completely blank, his eyes not really looking at anything at all. When Estel was a very young child, he had found both Elladan and Elrohir’s grey, steel eyes slightly scary. They looked so old. As he had grown up, though, the feeling had vanished when he learnt that they were his brothers and would look after him. But now the feeling crept back in, upon seeing Elladan’s face, and for the first time in a while Estel realised how old his brothers were.

They headed inside, Estel trailing all but forgotten behind the stretcher. Other than the two guards that were carrying the end of the stretcher, there were no other elves with them. Estel didn’t know where Glorfindel was; if he could be here, if he knew, then he would. But he was not surprised that Elladan was there carrying the stretcher. In fact, he was a little surprised one of the guards had gone to pick up one of the bars of the stretcher in the first place.

He must have been around thirteen when Elladan had been thrown from a young horse that they had been trying to train. The horse had actually been for Estel, his first proper horse after the pony he had been riding for years. But the young horse had reared and thrown Elladan, and he had hit his head and knocked himself out.

Estel remembered being there and watching when the horse had gone up, and had completely panicked. Elladan had simply been lying there, terrifyingly still, and Estel simply hadn’t known what to do. When remembering, he was sure he had been screaming, but at the time he couldn’t hear anything.

Elrohir had been nearby, and had come running at Estel’s screams. Upon seeing his brother’s still form he had instantly known exactly what to do. Others had come running at Estel’s scream, and Estel vaguely remembered Glorfindel picking him up and helping him walk inside, but it had been Elrohir who had been in charge. Glorfindel hadn’t even tried to interfere, letting Elrohir look after his brother, who had suffered a broken arm and a bad concussion from the fall. At the time, Estel didn’t really understand why Elrohir was doing it all.

Elladan had explained later to him, when he was conscious and coherent. They were brothers, and they looked out for each other. At the time, Estel knew about the long trips that his brothers sometimes took, but didn’t wholly understand them. But after Elladan had spoken to him, he understood that sometimes it was only the two of them against everything. It had become instinct for them to watch each other’s backs, and to look after the other when they were hurt. Even in the safe realm of Imladris it was habit.

They got inside, and carefully Elrohir was moved from the stretcher to one of the beds. The two guards left and Legolas sat down on the neighbouring bed. Estel noticed he was keeping his ankle, the one injured from the snare, carefully off the floor, and Estel suspected he had hurt it again.

Elladan hovered at the end of the bed, at least until Legolas glared at him, and then he sat down next to Legolas. The glare wasn’t real, though, and Legolas’ gaze softened immediately as Elladan sat on the bed. His hand found Elladan’s shoulder, and Estel watched, leaning against the wall and feeling as if he was standing on the other side of a window. They watched as Elrond began to look over Elrohir.

Elrond sighed slightly as he turned Elrohir’s head to get a better look at the gash there. He should have known something like this would happen. It seemed to happen more often than not. His face was schooled into a blank expression. It was a habit, so as to not let any watchers know of the person’s condition, though it was not really any use with his own sons. Elrond could not hide much at all from Elladan when it was to do with Elrohir. And Legolas, too, would be hard to hide things from. Anything he did not pick up on, he would infer from Elladan’s reaction.

“Ai, ion,” Elrond muttered as he gently examined the gash across Elrohir’s temple. “What have you done?”

0-o-0-o-0

Elrond carefully looked over his unconscious son, pushing the emotions of a father firmly out of the way, and trying to maintain the detached mind of a healer.

Even with all his efforts, he was feeling the flutter of worry in his chest. But actually, as he examined the gash in Elrohir’s temple, the worry was replaced with something akin to relief. Not quite, because it was hard to feel relief when your son was unconscious and injured, but at least it was not as bad as it could have been.

The room was still tense though, holding its breath as Elrond continued his work. Estel was leaning against the wall, watching as Elrond began to stitch up the gash. Quiet talk filled the room as Elladan and Legolas took it in turns to explain briefly what happened and how Elrohir was injured, but Estel tried to zone it all out. He didn’t want to relive it again- he had been doing so in his head for a while now. Instead, he focused on his father’s steady hand, and the rhythmic stitch of the needle and thread.

After what seemed like an age, long after Elladan and Legolas had fallen silent, Elrond finished, wrapping the bandages around Elrohir’s head and standing up from the bed. Elladan’s eyes followed him up, and for what was probably the first time since Elrohir had fallen to the forest ground, his face was worried.

Elrond smiled a little. “Do not worry, ion,” he said softly. His eyes drifted back to his son, lying still in the bed, and he felt the cruelty again of having to tend to his own wounded son.

“He will be alright?” The question came from Legolas’ lips, who looked a little surprised that they had uttered it. Elrond nodded.
“Head wounds bleed a lot. I taught you that long ago, Elladan, so do not worry. He has a bad concussion from the blow, and will probably not wake until tomorrow, but he will be fine, given time.”

Elladan seemed to visibly relax, slumping back slightly on the bed. He didn’t say anything, just nodded at Elrond. Elrond smiled slightly and turned to leave.

Estel felt his father’s eyes fall on him and tried not to squirm under his gaze. Behind them, Elladan had risen and found a chair, moving to sit beside Elrohir’s bedside. He was soon joined by Legolas, who seemed to be limping a little on his injured ankle. Elrond’s uncanny ability to sense an injury kicked in, and he looked over at Legolas.

“I shall look at your ankle in a minute, penneth,” he said softly. Legolas nodded, but his eyes remained on Elrohir. Elrond turned back to look at Estel.

Estel nearly broke then and there under his father’s gaze. There was nothing particularly frightening or threatening about it, but still it made Estel’s stomach churn, and he found himself unable to look up at his father and meet his eyes.

“Outside, Estel,” said Elrond softly. Again, his voice was not menacing in the slightest, but still the words made the guilt that was already churning Estel’s stomach rise up his throat and make him feel like he was going to be sick. He nodded mutely and slipped out of the door, trying to be as quiet as he could, as if he could hide away and not have to face what was coming.

Once outside the room, Elrond walked a little way down the corridor before stopping. Estel came after him, his feet strangely independent of his thoughts as they took him down the hallway. He stopped opposite his father and cautiously raised his head.

His eyes found the always calm and deep eyes of Elrond, and his father watched him for a moment. “Estel-” began Elrond.

“I’m sorry!” The words blurted out of Estel’s mouth and suddenly all the guilt and fear and worry for Elrohir spilled over and all the words simply came rushing out.

“I’msorryI’m sorryI’msorryadar,IreallyamsorryandIdidn’tmeanforthisandI’msorryand-“

“Estel.”

Estel’s mouth clamped shut abruptly and he looked up, almost afraid to do so, which was of course absurd because it was his father, but then Elrohir was hurt because of him and was unconscious because of him and Elladan was angry at him and maybe Elrond was to, and Legolas possibly, though Estel didn’t know the elf well enough to tell, and it was all his fault and-

“Estel, look at me.”

Estel’s eyes drew up, and to his surprise he found deep worry and concern etched across Elrond’s face, rather than anger. Elrond sighed.

“Do you know how worried I was when we found you had gone? Glorfindel almost rode out on his own without any weapons or supplies. I almost did the same. Do you have any idea how much you frightened me, ion?”

To Estel’s horror, he felt hot tears fill his eyes and then begin to slide down his cheeks. He wiped furiously at them. “I’m sorry Adar, I really am, I’m really sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I know,” said Elrond softly. “I know why you did it. I know you wanted to prove to your brothers and to yourself that you were ready for this. I know you now blame yourself. I am not going to tell you that none of this is your fault, because you are smarter than that. I taught you better than that, ion. But things do go wrong in fights, and people do get hurt. This may have happened regardless of whether you had shown up.”

“Will-” Estel’s voice felt thick, and he tried again, the tears still rolling down his cheeks despite his efforts to stop them. “Will he be alright?”

“He will,” said Elrond gently. “And he will not think any less of you for this. Neither will Elladan, once he knows Elrohir will be alright. You were wrong, Estel, and you know that. But you were wrong for the right reasons.”

Estel merely nodded, and Elrond’s expression softened. “Ai ion,” he murmured, drawing Estel into an embrace. “When did you get so tall?”

Estel shrugged, tightening his arms around the solid, dependable figure of his father, and for a moment he felt again like a child, running to his father when a nightmare woke him, and all it took was for Elrond’s arms and a soft word or two to calm him down.
It would take a lot more than that now. The guilt was still there, but now only gnawing, rather than tearing huge chunks from him. And he would learn. He was determined now, not to prove himself, but to make sure that nothing like this could happen again- that someone would never again he hurt because they were worried about him, because he wasn’t good enough.

He would get better.

Elrond gently pulled back from Estel. “Come back inside. I want to look at your arm and redo the cast. That’s another thing. What were you thinking, riding out already injured? Promise me you will never do that again.”

Estel had barely opened his mouth when Elrond shook his head. “Actually don’t promise me that.”

“What?” asked Estel. “Why not?”

“Because I know at some point you will break that promise if you make it,” said Elrond. “At some time you will have no option to go into battle with injuries, or no sleep, or no idea what it is you are doing. The Valar only know how many times your brothers, or Legolas, for that matter, have done it. But at some point it will be necessary, if you are to follow in your brothers’ footsteps.”

Estel nodded a little, mainly so Elrond would leave the matter alone. He knew, of course, that he would follow in his brothers’ footsteps, would eventually join the Dunedain Rangers to hunt and fight with them. He knew he would eventually leave the haven of Imladris. It just wasn’t something he really wanted to dwell on.

Elrond held the door open and Estel walked back inside, his gaze instantly going to the still form of Elrohir in the bed. Someone, almost definitely Elladan, and maybe Legolas as well, had changed him out of the mud-covered, bloody clothes he had been wearing. He looked more comfortable now.

Legolas glanced up as the doors opened, and a hint of a smile came over his face as he saw Estel sit down at the table and put his arm, the one in a cast out in front of him for Elrond to look at. Estel smiled back, hoping that maybe if Legolas was being friendly, or at least not unfriendly, then maybe Elladan had cooled down a little. He looked over at his brother.

Elladan met his gaze, his eyes blank steel. Without a word, he looked away again.

Estel’s eyes dropped back to the table. For the entire time Elrond cut away and re-plastered the cast, he sat in silence. Eventually Elrond was finished, and began to tidy up the table. He gently rested a hand on Estel’s shoulder.

“Make sure to get some sleep, ion. If not in your own room, there are plenty of beds in here.” Estel nodded, but stayed slumped in the chair. Elrond sighed slightly.

“Legolas, let me look at that ankle,” he said, turning away from Estel and towards the blond elf. He smiled slightly at the innocent look on Legolas’ face. “I know you have made it worse, penneth.”

Legolas pulled a slight grimace, got up and sat down on the edge of the next bed over from Elrohir, swinging his injured leg up onto the bed. Elrond pulled up a chair and sat down, cutting away the mud-covered and bloody bandages covering Legolas’ ankle.

Legolas hissed as they were pulled away, and Elrond winced at the reddened skin covered in deep cuts. “It is beginning to become infected,” he said, gently examining the cuts in the skin. “I can clean the wounds out, but it may be a day or so before the infection leaves.”

Legolas nodded. He looked like he had heard similar things before, and Estel guessed that he probably had. “Just do it,” he murmured. “It’s not like I will be going anywhere anyway.”

Elrond nodded, and quickly collected the supplies he needed. The room was silent again, Estel slumped in the chair beside the table, Elladan sitting by the bed where Elrohir lay, and Legolas, lying back on the bed, his face paling as Elrond began his work. The occasional hiss of pain from Legolas, or the tired shifting of Estel in his chair, were the only things that broke the silence. The chair was making his back ache.

Finally Elrond finished, wrapping clean white bandages around Legolas’ ankle. “Stay off of it,” he warned Legolas. “I will send someone with clean clothes for all of you.”

Legolas’ eyes flickered over to Elrohir, and then to Elladan, sitting absolutely still in his chair. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Elrond smiled softly. “Make sure to get some rest,” he said. “You as well, ion,” he added, addressing Elladan. Elladan didn’t even look up at his father’s words, and Elrond held back a sigh, dropping one hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezing softly.

“I’ll make sure he does,” said Legolas softly. Elladan glared slightly at Legolas, who simply stared back, the hint of a smile turning up the corner of his mouth. Elrond smiled a little at the determined look on Legolas’ face.

“Get some rest,” said Elrond again. “Glorfindel should have returned by morning as well.”

“Where is he?” asked Estel, raising his head from where he had pillowed it on his arms. He didn’t remember seeing or hearing Glorfindel ride out once they were back, though he had been a little distracted.

“He rode out after you,” said Elrond, a little pointedly. “I’m surprised you didn’t meet him on your way back.”

Estel shook his head. “We came back by the shortest routes Elladan knows. Even I don’t know them.”

Elrond nodded. “Well, he will be back soon, I hope. In the meantime, get some sleep.”

Estel and Legolas both nodded, and Elladan, as was becoming customary, simply sat in silence. Elrond smiled softly, and then the door swung shut behind him.

There was silence.

Legolas lay back on the bed, his injured ankle propped up on a folded blanket. Estel could see the restless movements and slight shivering that heralded the start of a fever. It wouldn’t be serious though. Estel had been taught enough by his father to know that.
Estel looked over at Elladan. His brother sat slumped in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze didn’t seem to leave Elrohir, and Estel had to look hard to see him blink. And then Estel felt the gnawing guilt nibble a little deeper into him, and he stood up.

“Elladan.” It wasn’t a question, and Elladan glanced up at the forceful tone to Estel’s statement.

“Elladan, I’m sorry.”

Elladan sighed slightly. He had been expecting this. “Not now, Estel.”

What Elladan didn’t expect what Estel’s response to this. To be fair, Estel hardly expected it himself. He had, after all, spent most of his childhood following his brothers, trying to be just like them. Fights between them were rare, and often over petty things that were resolved quickly.

“No,” he said firmly, and everyone in the room, with the exception of Elrohir, turned to look at him.

“Estel, I do not want to do this now,” began Elladan, his voice carefully restrained. “Just leave it be and leave us alone.”

“I said no,” said Estel, unsure of where this new bravado was coming from. Maybe it was some leftover adrenaline suddenly making itself known, but he couldn’t seem to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Elladan, I really am. You know I never wanted any of this to happen, and-”

“Then why, for the love of the Valar, did you follow us?” shouted Elladan. His voice was no longer restrained, now the cutting edge of steel as his eyes locked on Estel. “What possessed you to do so, with a broken arm and no idea, none at all, of what you were doing? Don’t you realise what could have happened?”

“I was foolish, I know,” said Estel, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Foolish doesn’t even begin to describe it!” shouted Elladan. “Don’t you-”

“Elladan.” The voice was Legolas’, and it had a low, warning tone to it. Elladan glowered at the blond elf, but subsided, sinking back into his chair.

“Just leave, Estel,” he said.

“No,” said Estel again. “I know this is all my fault. I know you blame me for all of this, for Elrohir’s injury and everything that went wrong. I know-”

Elladan let out a mirthless chuckle. “You think that is why I am angry, Estel?” he asked. “Ai Valar, you have no idea.”

Estel crossed his arms, coming to stand at the end of Elrohir’s bed. “Then tell me,” he said stubbornly, glaring at Elladan. “Because something has certainly made you angry, and I am pretty sure I have something to do with it. So tell me.”

Elladan’s gaze softened minutely. “I forgot how stubborn you could be,” he murmured. “But I’m not explaining it all to you, Estel not now.”

“Now,” said Estel. “I am not leaving whatever you do, Elladan, and don’t try and force me.” He glared stubbornly at Elladan, and Elladan gazed defiantly back. Legolas, watching from where he lay on the bed, noticed the similarity between the two, even though they were not related. Both had the same set jaw, the same grey eyes that wouldn’t budge. Even their hair was the same colour, though Estel’s was shorter and far more tangled than Elladan’s long black hair could ever be.

Legolas sighed. “Tell him, Elladan.”

Their gaze broke, and Elladan looked over at Legolas, surprise on his face. “What?”

“Explain it,” Legolas repeated, his voice tired. His ankle was hurting and he was feeling cold and he knew if Elladan did not talk now, then he probably wouldn’t talk for a while. Besides, he thought that they owed Estel the truth, at least.

Elladan ground his teeth for a moment, and then turned back to Estel. “Fine,” he said bitterly. “You want to know why I am angry?”
Estel nodded, and Elladan, his eyes defiant, crossed his arms as he began. “Yes, I am angry at you. You shouldn’t have been there. Right now, I am finding it very, very hard to not blame you for all of this. You know why. You blame yourself for it as well, little brother.”

“But still, I don’t blame you for all of it. Some of it, yes, but not all. Bad things can happen. People can make mistakes, or other things can happen, and others get hurt because of it. It happens. I know that, and I know that what we do comes with a risk. Elrohir might have been hurt regardless of whether you were there or not. You being there certainly made it more likely, but still.”

“Then what else is it?” asked Estel.

Elladan gritted his teeth. “You have no idea, Estel. You have never, ever had to watch the world sliding back into darkness again. I am angry because we cannot seem to stop it, and because once more, things went wrong. I can’t even protect my own brother. And I am angry at you because you don’t seem to get that we are trying to protect you! Elbereth, we are trying to keep you safe, Estel, and all you do is ride out after us so you can try and prove yourself, so you can just throw everything we try and do for you in our faces.”
Elladan sat back in his chair. “There,” he said. “That is why I am angry.”

Estel was silent for a moment, as he ran it through in his head. Then he glared at Elladan once more. “Ai Valar, Elladan,” he said quietly. “You really think that? You think I am just throwing it back at you, all those years that you have spent protecting me? I am not a child anymore, Elladan! I may not be grown-up, and I may not think things through sometimes, or act foolishly, but I am not a child that needs sheltering from everything! Despite what has happened today, haven’t I shown that? Haven’t I proved that already?”

“Ai Valar! I am growing up, Elladan, and you have to stop, you and Elrohir, stop protecting me like I am the small child that you once knew. In case you haven’t forgotten, I am mortal. I am not going to live forever, and I do not have time to grow up slowly, because I will be dead in a little while, at least to you. So back off.”

There was silence in the room again. Estel’s gaze dropped away, first to Elrohir, lying still in the bed, and then to the floor. Elladan sat in his chair, tight-lipped, his jaw clenched.

Legolas sighed from where he lay, having been quiet and simply watched the man and elf argue it out. And still it was not over. It would not be over until Elrohir was awake and coherent, and both Estel and Elladan were able to relax a little. But he reckoned there would be more arguments to come.

“I think that is enough for tonight,” Legolas said, keeping his voice light. “Estel, you need to get some sleep. Elladan, I can’t force you to do anything, but I will remind you of the time when you did not rest for days when Elrohir was hurt and in here, and eventually your father had to secretly slip you a sleeping draught, so get some rest.”

Estel smiled at that, but the smile quickly dropped. He grabbed a blanket from the end of one of the beds and moved over to the bed on the other side of Elrohir to Legolas.

Elladan looked over his shoulder. He didn’t look so much angry as unbelievably weary now. “Go to your own room, Estel,” he said, his voice blank. “Leave us alone for a little while.”

Estel stubbornly sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling off his shoes. He lay down on the bed, pulling the blanket over him and being careful of the arm in the cast. He shook his head at Elladan. “He’s my brother too.”

Chapter Text

Estel woke up to the sound of soft voices.

He blinked heavily, trying to make his eyes focus. When they did, he was only more confused, until he realised the blanket he was sleeping under was covering his eyes. He flipped it back and peered out from under the wool.

Elrohir was still asleep, but was turned on his side now, the gash on his head still covered in bandages. Elladan was still sat beside him, in the same clothes he had worn riding in. Legolas was on the opposite bed, half sitting up against the headrest. His ankle was propped up on a folded blanket, and Estel could see from where he was lying that he was still shivering slightly, and sweat was beginning to bead across his forehead.

Legolas was talking, and Estel tried to wake himself up enough to hear what he was saying.

“-get some rest,” Legolas was saying. “You need it, Elladan, look at yourself. I’m pretty sure you haven’t slept since I arrived. We didn’t go inside at all the first night I was here, and then I know you spent the next night packing. After that none of us slept at all. You need to rest.”

“No,” said Elladan quietly. “I’m staying here. You know I am, Legolas. Don’t try and force me.”

“I will if I have to,” said Legolas, and his voice was harsher this time. “I’m not letting you do this to yourself just because Elrohir has been hurt.”

“Leave it, Legolas,” said Elladan, his voice weary and slightly bitter. “I don’t want to go through this again.”

“So you remember what happened last time?” asked Legolas, a slight wry amusement in his voice. His voice suddenly dropped and became almost pleading. “Saes, Elladan, just listen to me.”

For a moment Estel thought Elladan would. But then, from his position on his side on the bed, he saw his brother’s shoulders tense. “Give it up, Legolas,” he muttered. “Just stop it. I won’t go.”

Estel could see the stubborn set of Elladan’s shoulders, and how Legolas was gritting his teeth. He thought now was maybe a good time to wake up. If nothing else, it would distract his brother and Legolas.

He faked a yawn and sat up, his head twanging with the start of a headache and his arm throbbing. He rubbed at the cast absently. It itched.

Very early morning light was filtering through the windows. Estel swung his legs off the bed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just gone dawn,” said Elladan absent-mindedly. He then realised that he had acknowledged Estel, and his face abruptly became blank. Estel sighed.

His eyes flickered over to where Elrohir was curled on his side on the bed. “Did he wake up?” he asked. Last time he had seen his brother, Elrohir had been flat out on his back. “You should have woken me.”

“He wasn’t really awake,” said Legolas softly. “Just enough to turn over and murmur something that we couldn’t understand, before he fell asleep again. Elrond looked him over. He’s a little better.”

“Good,” murmured Estel. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. They were still muddy from yesterday. It was strange. It seemed like everything had happened far longer ago than yesterday. He half-heartedly tried to scrape the mud off of them, before remembering that they were in the healing wards and that would be a bad idea. He tried to kick the small clumps of mud under the bed.

“He’s still unconscious, though,” said Elladan softly. “He will be for a while longer, and we have no idea how coherent he will be when he wakes.”

Legolas allowed a small smile to play across his lips. “Elrohir has taken harder knocks to the head than this, Elladan. As have you. And myself.”

Elladan simply shook his head. “Not that much harder,” he murmured. “And the harder times were close, Legolas. You know this.”
“Aye, but I also know that it will do no good for you or for Elrohir if you keep on like you are. For the sake of the Valar, you haven’t even changed your clothes, Elladan! If you do not want to sleep, then at least go and get us some food, and change into some clean clothes.”

Elladan shook his head again. “I’m not leaving, Legolas.”

“Ai Valar, Elladan, stop being so stubborn!” said Estel exasperatedly, having listened in to the conversation. Elladan’s shoulders instantly tensed, and he slowly turned around to where Estel was sitting on the bed.

“I didn’t ask you, Estel,” he said softly. “And I will not listen to you try and make me leave as well. You haven’t left since we came in here.”

“That is because I was sleeping,” pointed out Estel. “Elladan, you look terrible. Get some rest.”

“Ai Valar, will you two leave me alone?” said Elladan exasperatedly.

Legolas shook his head, and levered himself to his feet. His ankle shook underneath him as he did so, but he only grimaced slightly and limped over to where Elladan was sitting.

“Elladan,” he said, and his voice was soft. “Don’t do this to yourself. Saes.” He moved closer and gripped the back of Elladan’s chair. “Just go and change into clean clothes,” he said imploringly. “Get us all something to eat. You can leave Elrohir for a little while. Nothing will happen when you turn your back.”

Elladan looked up at Legolas. “How do you know that?” he asked softly. He shook his head. “Better I am here, Legolas. Don’t try to persuade me.”

Legolas gripped Elladan’s shoulder. “Saes,” he said, and Estel saw a hint of what looked like grief pass over his face, and he wondered why. Legolas moved around so he was standing in front of Elladan. “Elladan,” he said. “Saes.”

Elladan sighed bitterly. “Will you not stop it, Legolas?” he asked, standing up abruptly and grabbing the blond elf’s hand from his shoulder. With a bitter look he pushed it away, shoving Legolas back with a push to his chest.

Legolas stumbled back, and that was where it went wrong. Legolas put his entire weight on his injured ankle as he stepped backwards, the one that was already weak and should really not be supporting much at all. Before he could do anything it gave out underneath him. There was a sickening tearing sound, and suddenly red blood began to blossom on the bandages.

Legolas bit his lip and hissed in pain, sinking to the floor and his body trying to involuntarily curl in around his ankle to protect it. The bandages were slowly turning bloody.

Elladan jumped up as soon as he realised what he had done, closely followed by Estel. “Elbereth,” Elladan muttered under his breath. “Ai Valar, Legolas, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do this.”

Legolas looked up from where he was half slouched on the floor, his bloody ankle now out in front of him. His hands were clenched into fists, and he was making a visible effort to not grab the ankle. He knew it would only make it worse.

Elladan reached out with a tentative hand towards Legolas. He almost seemed to sigh in relief when Legolas reached up and grabbed hold of it, and then he pulled the blond elf to his feet. Legolas winced at the movement, and kept his bloody ankle off of the ground.
“I know you didn’t,” he said softly. “It’s alright, Elladan, it really is. I’ve only torn the stitches. It’s not too bad.”

“Sit down,” said Elladan, slinging one of Legolas’ arms over his shoulder and helping him limp over to the other bed. “Let me stitch it.”
“Elladan, I mean it when I say I want you to go and get some rest and some food,” said Legolas, grimacing as he swung his ankle up onto the bed. “I can wait a little longer. Or your father could be fetched.”

“No,” said Elladan quickly. Part of him was definitely accepting the blame for this, and he didn’t want his father to know what had happened. Another part of him knew that Elrond would find out regardless, but still…

Besides, he did not know where his father was right now. Glorfindel should be returning soon, and maybe Elrond had gone to meet the elf. His father had actually left quite soon after Elrohir had briefly woken. Maybe he wanted to give them some space. The Valar knew they needed it.

Well, he needed it. He could never stand seeing his brother hurt, or anyone he loved being hurt. Ever since…

No, it would not do to dwell on such thoughts. Elladan grimaced slightly. He saw sense in Legolas’ words, knew that his clothes were bloody and muddy and generally covered in filth, and that they were all hungry and tired. Yet he could not bear to leave his brother.
Legolas, almost sensing Elladan’s indecision, smiled up at him. “You can leave him,” he said softly. “I promise you nothing will happen.”

Elladan shook his head. “Someone needs to see to your ankle,” he said defiantly.

“I can do it.” Estel wasn’t sure what made him offer to help, but he could see that Elladan was on the verge of leaving, and that he needed to leave as well. Besides, he knew how to stitch and bandage wounds. He could help.

“I can help,” he said, when Legolas looked at him a little questioningly. “Adar taught me. Elladan, you know I am good. I can do it. Go and change clothes and get something to eat.”

Legolas nodded. “If Lord Elrond has taught him, Elladan, then I trust him to do a fine job. Go.”

Elladan sighed, and turned towards the door. He knew when to accept defeat, and it was clear that Legolas would get out of that bed, torn stitches in his ankle or not, and force him out if he did not go of his own free will. He looked back over his shoulder at Elrohir, on his side in the bed. The white bandage stood out against his brother’s raven black hair.

He caught Legolas’ eye, from where his friend lay on the bed. Estel was already beginning to gather everything he would need.
“Promise…?” he asked softly, fully aware that Legolas knew exactly what he was being asked to promise.

Legolas nodded. “I promise,” he said, a sad smile on his face. Estel watched as the same flash of grief passed across his face again, and again he wondered why.

Elladan nodded, and turned and left. The door slowly swung shut behind him. Legolas sighed.

“Finally,” he said softly. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to persuade him this time.”

Estel returned to the side of the bed, setting a bowl of hot water and some cloths down on the chest at the end of the bed. “What did you mean when you said you promised?” he asked. “And why did you both seem sad when you were saying it?”

Legolas grimaced as he shifted to try and find a more comfortable position. “You are observant, aren’t you?” he asked with a smile. “It happened a while ago, but neither of us have managed to forget. That is one of the reasons Elladan was so reluctant to leave the room, even to just change his clothes.”

“What happened?” asked Estel as he began to cut away the bloody bandages around Legolas’ ankle. Legolas grimaced. “Do you want something to take the edge of the pain?” asked Estel as he pulled the bandages away.

Legolas shook his head, and Estel sighed. “Let me rephrase that. I am going to give you something to take the edge of the pain. Do you want to have it sweetened or not? Here’s a clue: the answer to that questions depends on how easily you co-operate.”

Legolas chuckled. “I shall have it, then,” he said. Estel smiled and handed over a small earthen cup. Legolas drank it down quickly. He pulled a face. “Even sweetened with honey it tastes foul.”

Estel smiled a little. “Anyway, what happened?” he asked as he dipped a cloth in the warm water and began to clean the blood away from the wound.

Legolas’ face went a little harsher. “It was about three, maybe four hundred years ago. I was here in Imladris, and Elladan, Elrohir and I went out riding into the mountains. There had been reports of increased orc activity through the pass from the Rangers, and so we went to investigate.”

Legolas sighed. “It went wrong. We were ambushed, and only barely managed to get out of there alive. We all took wounds, but Elrohir’s were worst. As usual, we were rushing. Elladan, the least wounded of us, stitched us both up, and we headed back to Imladris.”

“It wasn’t enough.” Legolas’ gaze darkened. “Elrohir’s wounds became infected two days out of Imladris. That night, he was unconscious. We rode as fast as we could back home, and all three of us ended up in here when we arrived. At first, it looked like we were all going to be alright.”

Legolas shifted on the bed, grimacing as Estel finished cleaning the wounds and threaded a needle. Carefully he began to stitch.
Legolas continued. “Elladan had left the room for only a few minutes when Elrohir suddenly got worse. And by worse, I mean really bad. Someone ran for Elladan, but in the time that it took to find him and bring him back, Elrohir had nearly died and then become stable again. Ever since then, anybody has a hard time getting Elladan to leave the room when his brother is unconscious. It works the other way round as well, but Elladan especially. He is terrified of coming back to find his brother dead.”

Estel’s eyes were wide as he listened. The thing he found worst was not, actually, what had actually happened. He knew both his brothers had been injured badly before. The thing that was frightening him a little now was the way that Legolas spoke so easily of the event, so matter of fact, like he was not talking about the fact that his friend had nearly died. Was this what he himself would eventually become? Would he eventually lose all sense of horror at things like this, because it had happened so many times already?
Legolas caught his surprised gaze. “What is it?” he asked, shifting and then wincing as it pulled on the new stitch in his ankle that Estel was tying off.

Estel shook his head, the main part of his concentration turning back to Legolas’ ankle. “I just…never mind. Don’t worry about it.”
Legolas nodded. He watched as Estel put another neat stitch in his ankle. “You were not lying,” he said with a smile. “You are good at this.”

Estel shrugged. “When you have Elrond teaching you for years, you become quite good at this. It’s just practise.”

Legolas shook his head. “No, you have a knack for this, Estel. I have had practice, hundreds of years of practice. And I can safely say that your stitches are better than mine. Mine are good, good enough to keep someone patched up, but I am no healer. You could be.”
Estel shrugged again, concentrating on putting in another stitch. “Maybe,” he said.

“Do you want to be?” asked Legolas, hissing as the needle bit into the muscle in his ankle.

“No,” said Estel shortly. “I want to be a warrior. I want to learn to fight.”

“You know how to fight,” pointed out Legolas. Estel sighed and rolled his eyes. That wasn’t what he had meant. He knew how to defend himself, certainly. He knew how to fight, in a sense, but he didn’t know how to fight at the same time. He didn’t know how to fight like his brothers and Legolas could fight. There was a difference between fighting to defend yourself and fighting like a warrior.
That could probably be put more eloquently, thought Estel, but it was the best he could come up with. His brothers had always taught him well, taught him to defend himself and use a sword, but it was not the same.

Legolas was watching him almost expectantly, and Estel sighed. “It’s not the same, what they’ve taught me,” he muttered as he bent over Legolas’ ankle. “My brothers, even Glorfindel, have taught me well, but I just always feel like they are holding back on me, not teaching me everything they could.”

“You have not had long to learn,” pointed out Legolas.

Estel grimaced. “That is exactly why I am irritated,” he muttered. “That is what they always say: you have plenty of time to learn, you don’t need to rush. In case you haven’t noticed, Legolas, I am mortal. I don’t have a lot of time to learn. I don’t have the hundreds of years that you and my brothers have had to become perfect.”

At that Legolas snorted slightly. “We’re far from perfect, Estel.”

Estel chuckled. “Believe me, I know,” he said. “But still, what I said stands.” He shook his head, a sigh forcing its way out through his lips. “I don’t know how you do it,” he muttered.

“What?” asked Legolas.

Estel put down the needle and thread and turned to him. “How in the name of the Valar have you done it for all these years?” he asked. “I have had a tiny taste of what you and my brothers go through and I was terrified, I really was. How have you managed it for so long?”

Legolas shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said simply. “I really don’t. You will understand when you get older, Estel, and then you will not be able to explain it as well.”

Estel pulled a face. “That’s what my brothers say. Don’t start saying it as well.”

Legolas chuckled. “It won’t happen again,” he said with a smile. Estel picked up the needle and began to put another stitch into Legolas’ ankle.

“Last one,” he said with a smile. “Then I can bandage it.” Legolas shifted uncomfortably on the bed and wiped one hand over his forehead. Estel frowned, and then reached up and placed the back of his hand on Legolas’ forehead, Legolas half-heartedly attempting to swat the hand away.

“You’re hot,” he said. He sighed. “That’s why you are restless as well. You knew you had a fever, didn’t you?”

Legolas shifted slightly. “Your father knew,” he muttered. “It hasn’t climbed much.”

Estel grinned slightly. “You are like my brothers when it comes to injuries, you know that? But it’s not too bad. I won’t even make you drink something foul. Just keep drinking water and get some rest.” He finished off the final stitch and grabbed a roll of white bandages from the chest at the end of the bed.

Legolas chuckled, and Estel frowned. He began to carefully wrap the bandages around Legolas’ ankle. “Why aren’t you angry?” he murmured softly, his eyes quickly darting up to Legolas’ face and then back again.

Legolas stilled his restless movements, and looked over at Estel. “Why should I be?” he asked.

Estel rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it a bit obvious?” he said scathingly. “I messed up. I caused all of this: Elrohir’s injury, everything. It is my fault. Why aren’t you angry?”

Legolas shrugged. “I was,” he said. “When I first saw you, I was angry that you were there. But in the middle of a battle, you don’t have time to think about things like that, so I didn’t. And then afterwards…” He chuckled morosely. “I don’t know.”

Estel raised one eyebrow and Legolas chuckled. “You know you look remarkably like Lord Elrond when you do that.”

Estel grinned a little. “I know. But seriously, is that all you are going to say, that you don’t know? You can do better than that.” He lifted up Legolas’ ankle and pushed the roll of bandages underneath it. “Tell me. I’m pretty certain Elladan is furious at me. Why aren’t you?”

“You have not been to Mirkwood?” asked Legolas. Estel shook his head. “Things are different in Mirkwood. I have seen plenty of younger elves try to prove themselves. Sometimes things have gone wrong in the process. Sometimes things go wrong anyway.”

Estel snorted. “So what?” he asked. “I am mortal, not an elf. Another thing which my brothers either completely forget or take great care in noticing, depending on how it will help them. They say I have plenty of time to learn, when I do not. Yet they are swift to protect me because I am not as strong, or as fast, or as agile as an elf.”

“Your brothers’ fault is that they love you,” said Legolas softly. “You are their brother, and after everything that they have seen it is only fair that they want to keep you from seeing the same. I am not saying they are right,” he added as Estel shot a glare his way. “But they have their reasons. Much like you did,” he added pointedly.

Estel sighed, finishing off the bandage and tying it off. “You still haven’t explained why you are not angry,” he pointed out. Legolas chuckled.

“You are more like your brothers than you may realise,” he said with a smile. “You are irritatingly stubborn.”
Estel grinned. “I learnt from the best,” he said. “Now tell me.”

“Elbereth,” said Legolas with a roll of his eyes. “I will try.” He shifted so he was sitting up a little more.

“I can’t stay angry at you, Estel, because I know you did it for the right reasons. I know you have a good heart, and that even if you were trying to prove yourself, you were also trying to help. Besides, I have had plenty of time to become accustomed to things like this happening. You are not so different from an elf, Estel. I was in the battle outside Erebor, and men fought with just as much ferocity and instinct as elves.” Legolas’ face clouded over. “They died the same as well.”

“Anyway, I don’t see much point in being angry at you. Elladan is only angry because he was really scared for you, his little brother, and it will wear off soon.” Legolas grinned. “Trust me, he will be apologising in a day.”

Estel grinned and ducked his head almost shyly, and Legolas smiled. He had meant it, what he had said, and it was true that he didn’t see much point in being angry at the young man. He had seen enough of war and death to know that it just wasn’t worth it.

Estel didn’t say anything else, and almost jumped up from the chair at the edge of the bed where he had been sitting. “Get some sleep,” he mumbled as he turned away with the remainder of the equipment he had been using. Legolas smiled as he turned on his side and watched Estel carefully tidy up. The young man moved over to the side of Elrohir’s bed and straightened the sheets, checking the bandage around his head. Estel’s hand rested for a brief moment over Elrohir’s shoulder.

Legolas smiled again, his eyes slowly unfocusing as he drifted off to sleep. It really wasn’t worth it at all.

Chapter Text

When Legolas next awoke, it took him a few moments to realise where he was and why his entire body was aching like he had been thrown from a horse.

Of course, he had been thrown from a horse. Only two days ago. It seemed like longer. He pushed himself up from the bed with a stifled groan as his stiff body protested.

It was early afternoon. Estel was curled up on the bed the other side of Elrohir, asleep. Elrohir was, as he had been the last time Legolas had been awake, lying still on his side. Elladan sat next to him.

Legolas winced and pushed himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “How is he?” he asked, grimacing at the hoarseness of his voice.

Elladan glanced up. His clothes had been changed, no longer bloody and dirty. “Better,” he said softly. “I think he might wake soon. Adar will be along in a few moments.” He looked over Legolas, and a small smile lifted the corners of his lips. “You look terrible.”
Legolas chuckled. “I can believe that,” he murmured. “Did you sleep?”

“A little,” said Elladan, shrugging slightly. He still seemed tired, still slumped slightly in the chair, but there is a little something more in his gaze, something that makes his eyes not blank anymore. Elladan’s eyes briefly cut to Estel’s sleeping form, and Legolas knows for certain at that point, even though he already knew, that Estel had nothing really to worry about.

Elladan reached down to the floor and carefully picked up a tray of food, a bowl of soup and bread rolls. “Here,” he said, getting up and walking around Elrohir’s bed to pass the tray over. “Eat. It should still be warm.”

Legolas paused. “Have you eaten?” he asked, his hand hovering over one of the bread rolls.

Elladan rolled his eyes. “Aye,” he said with a grin, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him. “Go on, eat. I know you want to.”
Legolas chuckled slightly and tore apart the bread roll, dipping it into the thick soup. “The food here is always so good,” he muttered around a mouthful of bread and soup. “I can see why Estel eats so much of it.”

Elladan chuckled a little, his gaze sliding over to where his little brother lay asleep, tangled in the sheets of the bed. His gaze changed, becoming softer, the grin slowly fading from his lips. Legolas followed his gaze.

“You know he was trying to help,” he said.

“Don’t try and get him out of this, Legolas,” said Elladan, but there was a warmth in his voice that had not been there before. “He shouldn’t have come.”

“I know that,” said Legolas. “I do. But try and tell me that you never did anything you were not supposed to do. Your little brother is growing up to be rather similar to you and your brother, Elladan, including the slight disregard for what they should be doing, and the irritating stubbornness that both of you possess in spades.” Legolas chuckled. “You should be proud of him.”

Elladan laughed at that. “Most days I don’t know whether to be proud of him or wring his neck,” he admitted. “You do not have a little brother, Legolas. You have no idea how frustrating it can be.”

Legolas opened his mouth, about to say something, when the door swung open and Elrond walked in, closely followed by Glorfindel. They paused when they saw Estel, still sleeping, and both adjusted their stride so that their footsteps, which before were quiet, were now silent.

They paused, and at that moment Elrohir began to stir. A stifled groan came from the bed, and instantly Elladan sprang to his feet. Elrond swiftly made his way to the edge of the bed and sat down carefully. “Ion?” he asked softly. “Elrohir, open your eyes.”

Elrohir’s eyes didn’t open, but one hand came up from the covers to feebly bat at the bandage covering the gash on his temple. In almost an instant, Elladan was sitting on the other edge of the bed, and had caught Elrohir’s hand. “Easy, brother,” he murmured. “Easy. Leave the bandage alone.”

Finally Elrohir’s eyes cracked open and he squinted. “Ll’dan?” he murmured almost incoherently. His other hand moved to shield the weak sunlight from his eyes, and Glorfindel instantly moved across and pulled the curtains shut, dimming the room.

A relieved grin broke out across Elladan’s face. “Aye, I’m here, brother,” he said softly.

Elrohir grimaced, his eyes squinting as he turned his head to look over to Elladan first, and then to Elrond. “Adar,” he murmured with a wince. “Man-?”

“Easy,” chided Elrond, gently stilling Elrohir’s turning head. “You took an orc blade to the head. It’s a nasty concussion and some stitches, but nothing that won’t heal."

Elrohir’s face scrunched up in what looked like confusion. “Yrch…” he muttered. Something suddenly clicked inside his head and he surged up, worry evident across his face.

“Steady, ion,” said Elrond, pushing him back down. Elrohir resisted, and Elrond was about to say something when Elladan suddenly opened his mouth.

“Muindor, it’s alright, I’m alright. I’m fine. Estel is fine. He’s safe. Legolas is safe as well, that insufferable blond elf. We’re all fine.”
Elrohir settled back down, but his face was still fixed in a grimace, and his hand tried to go to his head again. Elladan pulled it back down with a small grin. “Leave the bandage alone, brother,” he said with a smile.

“Here,” Elrond said, holding out a small cup. Elladan hadn’t seen his father get up and get the sleeping draught, which is what he guessed it was, but Elrond was insistent, holding it out until Elrohir took it with shaky hands.

Yet still the stubbornness prevailed for a little longer. Elrohir looked over at Elladan, knowing he would get more answers from his brother. They had been in each other’s position before, after all.

“How…long?” he murmured, his words becoming a little clearer.

Elladan smiled slightly, knowing what was going through his brother’s head. “You haven’t missed too much,” he said softly. “Less than day.”

Elrohir nodded, and raised the cup to his lips. “Good,” he murmured, before drinking it down. He grimaced. “Still tastes…foul.”

“I know, brother,” said Elladan with a small laugh. “Sleep well.” Elrohir’s eyes slid shut, and soon he was fast asleep once more.

Everyone in the room let out a breath they didn’t realise they had been holding. Elrond’s experience let him know that Elrohir would be perfectly fine, and everyone else in the room reacted to his relief, knowing exactly what it meant.

Elladan sagged back, sinking onto the bed next to where Legolas was sitting, and Elrond and Glorfindel both watched as Legolas put an arm around Elladan’s shoulders, and the dark-haired elf leant into the blond. Legolas heaved a sigh and allowed a small grin to come across his face. Not long after, it spread to Elladan as well.

Elrond caught Glorfindel’s eye and smiled at the elf. It was not only the recent sight of Elrohir, awake and somewhat coherent, but also the two elves sitting on the bed across from them now. Only the Valar knew how many times each of them had been waiting, for what Elrond knew could seem like an Age for any news, and sign that things would be alright. And Elrond knew from experience that after a while, it became easier to expect the bad news. It softened the blow.

And that, he suspected, was probably the reason for the slightly glazed, uncomprehending looks that he could see on his son and Legolas’ faces. Sometimes it gets hard to believe good news, when you have every reason to believe that things, once again, will not go your way.

“He will be fine,” said Elrond, his voice soft, though the draught he had given Elrohir was rather strong, and the elf would not be awake for hours. “He should wake again before the day is out. Elladan, are you staying here?”

Elladan nodded. “Aye,” he said, still leaning a little into Legolas. “We will stay.” Legolas merely nodded, and still Estel slept on, oblivious.

Elrond nodded. “There are things have been left that I must attend to now. Ion, make sure you look after yourself as well. I will return in the afternoon, or as soon as I can.”

Elladan nodded, and Elrond turned and left, leaving Glorfindel, Elladan and Legolas awake in the room. Glorfindel sighed, but there was a smile on his face, and he was almost relaxed. He turned to Elladan and Legolas.

“Things could have been far worse,” he said. A wry smile came across his face. “Of course, I know all too well how pointless those words are, but you know we were all lucky this time.” He turned away, clapping Elladan on the shoulder.

“Look after yourself, Elladan,” said Glorfindel. “Legolas, make sure he does that.” Both elves smirked slightly, and Glorfindel smiled, turning to leave the room. Elladan watched him go, and as soon as the door swung shut, he leant more heavily into Legolas.
Legolas sighed. “You alright?” he murmured, both of them watching Elrohir and Estel sleep peacefully. Elladan shrugged.
“It gets worse every time,” he muttered.

“Are you referring to Glorfindel’s jokes?” asked Legolas. “Because I know they can become bad, but they haven’t even started yet.” He smiled, but somehow it fell a little short of his eyes as he watched Elrohir.

Elladan pulled away slightly. “You know what I mean,” he said softly, but there was a small smile playing across his face.
“I do,” admitted Legolas. “But I was hoping you would say it, rather than me.”

Elladan chuckled morosely. “I was hoping neither of us would say it, mellon-nin. Because it does really get worse every time.”
Legolas nodded, and the two friends leant back into each other slightly. They both knew what each other meant, and they both knew that they were right. It got worse every time.

They weren’t referring to the injuries. There was no pattern to the wounds they received or the fights they fought, if only that the battles, having died down after the Battle of the Five Armies, were now coming back in number once again. But the fear, the worry that sat in the pit of their stomachs, became worse every time.

Not because they were necessarily worried for each other, at least not once they knew the other would be alright. But every time one of them was injured, the others were faced with the terrible, horrible feeling that maybe this time they wouldn’t be lucky. That maybe this time it would go wrong, and one of them would die.

But there was an even worse feeling, one that crept up only after the injured one of them opened their eyes and spoke and smiled. The others would be relieved, of course, but yet they would still wonder, still ask how much longer their luck was going to last. How many more times would they scrape through before the worst happened, before a sword cut too deep or a blow was too hard?

And so this lingering fear crept up on them, sitting here, watching Elrohir sleep. This time, things had worked out to be alright. But that holds no guarantee that the next time, and there will be a next time, things will go wrong, and people will die.
It was a sobering thought.

Neither of them said anything after that, sitting together on the edge of the bed. After a little while Legolas shifted and lay down, flat out with his injured ankle propped up on a folded blanket. He slowly drifted off to sleep, his eyes wide and unfocused as he walked in dreams.

Elladan stayed awake a little longer, his need to stay awake and make sure that his brothers and friend were all safe with his body’s need to rest and go to sleep. Eventually his body won, and he gave in and lay down on the next bed over. He was so tired that his eyes slid half shut as he fell asleep, and then the room was quiet, save for the sound of three elves and a young man steadily breathing as they slept.

Glorfindel walked into the room a little while later, and paused in the doorway. In front of him lay the two brothers he had known and trained for most of their lives, their invaluable friend who was still, to Glorfindel’s slight surprise, still cheerful after so much, and the recent addition, the young man who Glorfindel had already come to love fiercely. All of them were fast asleep. Estel’s arm had flopped out from underneath him and hung over the bed, as if reaching for Elrohir. Both Elladan and Legolas were facing the injured elf as well.

Glorfindel moved silently across the room, first pulling the blanket up over Estel’s shoulder and gently putting his arm back on the bed. He then grabbed two more blankets and spread them carefully over Legolas and Elladan. A smile came over his face as he watched the four of them sleep, and then silently, he turned and walked away.

0-o-0-o-0

When Estel next awoke, it was the afternoon again. He grimaced and sat up, rubbing his eyes in a futile attempt to try and wake up. With a yawn, he swung his legs off the edge of the bed.

He had no idea how he was still so tired. He had spent an absurd amount of time sleeping, and yet still was resisting the urge to fall back onto the soft pillow and pull the blanket up around him…

He shook his head and got to his feet, wincing a little as the slight pain that throbbed through his casted arm when he grabbed hold of the edge of the bed to steady himself. It would heal, though. And then he could start becoming a better fighter, a better warrior. He had not forgotten the promise he had made himself. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to get hurt because of his stupid mistakes.

Estel was still half asleep as he stood away from his bed, aiming to go and get a glass of water from the side. His throat was dry and scratchy, and his head ached. But his feet betrayed him and he stumbled, one ankle twisting underneath him. He made an undignified grab for the edge of the bed and managed to stop himself before he completely fell over. Estel blushed slightly. So much for becoming a better fighter. He couldn’t even keep his balance.

A low chuckle from nearby made him suddenly straighten up. Estel turned to see Elladan sitting in a chair next to Elrohir’s bed, a small smile across his face.

“Careful, little brother,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to break the other arm.”

Estel scowled, but the effect was spoiled by the grin that spread across his face at the friendliness in his brother’s voice, the smile on Elladan’s face. “Aren’t you still angry at me?” he asked, trying to make it sound nonchalant, but to his ears, failing miserably.

Elladan sighed. “Not really, not anymore,” he said. “Elrohir will be alright, and I can’t see how my anger will in any way help anything.” He smiled softly at Estel. “You meant well, and Legolas did point out that the exact qualities that got you into trouble are those that both Elrohir and I seem to have taught you, so if anything, it is our fault.”

Estel chuckled. He wondered what had made Elladan suddenly seem so much more relaxed, from the last time he had been awake. And then he saw how Elladan’s eyes kept flickering to Elrohir’s sleeping form, but held far less worry than before. As if every time Elladan looked at him, he is relieved.

And then it clicked in Estel’s mind, and he frowned. “He woke, didn’t he?” he asked, his voice suddenly colder. “You could have woken me. You should have woken me, Elladan. He is my brother too.”

Elladan couldn’t help but smile at the indignant tone in Estel’s voice. “There is the stubbornness that you learnt from us,” he said softly. “You needed the rest, and he will wake again. He will be fine.”

Estel scowled again at his brother, but was so relieved by the fact that Elrohir would definitely be alright that the thought wasn’t in it. He moved over and grabbed a cup of water from the side, drinking it down quickly.

“When will he wake again?” Estel asked, coming to sit on the edge of his bed. Elladan looked over at him, and the guilt and worry in Estel’s heart lessened at the sight of his brother smiling at him, and not looking at him with anger or disappointment.

“Not for a few more hours,” said Elladan. “Adar gave him a strong sleeping draught, but he has never been one to stay asleep for long. By tonight, I would imagine, he will be awake.”

“How is Legolas?” asked Estel. The blond elf was curled on his side facing them, his knees nearly up to his chest. His face was still a little flushed, and even in his sleep he seemed restless, shifting slightly as if he couldn’t find the right position to be comfortable in.

Elladan reached over and gently pressed the back of his hand against Legolas’ brow. “He has a slight fever,” he murmured. “But it is not too bad. I will make him drink something when he awakes.” He smiled slightly. “There is no point waking him now. I doubt he has had much rest in Mirkwood before he came here. He looked tired when he arrived, and it hasn’t really left yet.”

Estel had thought the elf had looked fine when he had arrived, but then he hadn’t known Legolas. He still didn’t know him. Or did he? He felt like he knew Legolas better than he should after only, what, less than a week? But then the circumstances had been less than normal.

“So Elrohir will be alright,” murmured Estel. “Good.” He slumped forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “So now we wait?”

Elladan chuckled a little. “Patience was never one of your strong points,” he said softly. “Aye, we wait. Find a book, if you cannot be patient.” He leant back in his chair, his eyes still on his sleeping brother.

Estel sighed and looked over at Elladan. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Elladan’s eyes cut sharply to him. “We have been through this,” he said, his voice slightly tighter than before.

“Aye, but you are more reasonable now,” said Estel with a slight smile. “And I wanted to say I’m sorry. I really am.”

The smile disappeared from his face. “When I…when I set out, I wanted, I did it to show you and Elrohir that I wasn’t just a child that needed protecting. I never realised how foolish that was.”

Elladan raised one eyebrow, and Estel blushed. “Well, maybe I did know how idiotic it was. But at the time I thought I had to do it, to prove myself to be brave. You and Elrohir have been training me, teaching me all this time to be a fighter, to be brave. And when we first met the orcs, when I was in that tree, all I could think of was how I was letting you down.”

To Estel’s horror, hot tears filled his eyes and began to spill over his cheeks. “The last thing I want to do is let you down,” he said softly. “And I know this is my fault, and it is because of me that Elrohir is hurt. But I just didn’t want to disappoint you, Elladan, even though I ended up doing just that.”

Estel stopped there, afraid that if he kept going he wouldn’t ever be able to stop. And the tears started to run down his face, because it was now that he realised what it was exactly he would become, if he grew up to fight like his brothers. And he was terrified that he wasn’t good enough, terrified that he would let down his brothers and father and anyone who depended on him. He just hoped that it wouldn’t be that many people who were reliant on him in the future.

“I will be better,” he promised. “I won’t allow something like this to happen again because I am not good enough, I promise. Elladan, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t let you down again, I promise.”

Through the tears that were blurring his sight, Estel didn’t see his brother get up from where he sat. But suddenly strong arms were wrapped around him, and he heard Elladan’s voice, soft and calm, in his ear.

“It’s alright, little brother, it’s alright,” murmured Elladan. “We’re all here. We’re all safe.”

Estel leant his head into his brother’s shoulder and finally, after trying to keep hold of it for days, let go of all the worry and fear and horror at what had happened, and cried.

“Hey,” said Elladan gently. “Estel, remember to breathe. In and out, alright?” Estel nodded shakily, and wrapped his arms around Elladan.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed through sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“Ai, little brother,” said Elladan softly. “I know. I know. But never doubt for a moment, Estel, that we are not incredibly proud of you. We really are. And do not promise to never allow something like this to happen again, because it will. Sometimes you will make mistakes, or others will make them, and people will be hurt. They might die.”

At this thought Estel gulped, hearing the undercurrent meaning in Elladan’s voice, that one day him and Elrohir might be killed, might be cut down in battle, their luck running out. And his arms tightened around his brother, one of the two who had always been there.
“I don’t want any of this to happen,” Estel whispered. “I don’t want anyone else to be hurt. I don’t want to watch someone die.'

“Ai, I know, little brother,” said Elladan. “And it’s a horrible, terrible thing to say, but things are dark right now, and if everything continue in the way it seems to be set, then the world will become a lot darker. And people will die because of it. We cannot change that, not really.”

“Then what’s the point?” asked Estel softly.

Elladan’s voice almost sounded slightly amused. “The point?” he asked. “I don’t know. We fight against the darkness and shadow as well as we can. We try and kill as many orcs as possible before our luck runs out. We try and protect as many people as possible before it is over. That is all we can do, I suppose.”

“I want to grow up,” said Estel, half pulling away from Elladan, so his brother was still gripping his shoulders, but he could look the elf in the eye. “I want to grow up, and not have to… be able to be less afraid.”

Elladan chuckled. “You think the fear goes away, little brother?” he asked. “I know Legolas already said something to you along these lines. It never leaves you, Estel. Aye, it changes, it may fade over time, but it will never, ever leave you alone. All that happens is that you get better at hiding it. You build a better mask.”

Elladan’s face was sad now, a shadow of grief passing over it. “Why do you think Elrohir, Legolas and I never look afraid to you? We have had plenty of time to build the best mask we can.”

Estel ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled again. Elladan laughed slightly.

“You do not have to be,” he said. “Tears do not make you a coward. If they did, Legolas, Elrohir and I would have turned and run hundreds of years ago.” His face softened, and he smiled softly.

“I will not say that you have much of a choice in this,” he said. “These times are darkening, and they will need people to fight back against the shadows threatening us. Sometimes there is little choice, if we want to protect that which we love.”

“But this is what we, meaning Elrohir, Legolas and I, have told each other over the years. Just because you may not live to see the end, it doesn’t mean that there won’t be one. And the only way to keep going towards that end, be it good or bad, is to find something good in this world, find something worth fighting for, and defend it with all that you have.”

And then Elladan leant back a little, and there was a strange look in his eyes. “But Estel, something tells me you will live to see the end. You will be there, little brother, and when you are, remember that. Keep something close to your heart, and defend it with all that you have.”

Chapter Text

Elladan’s eyes flickered from Elrohir, still sleeping peacefully, over to Estel, where he was lying in the next bed over, his dark hair flopped over his eyes. A small smile crept across Elladan’s face.

He had calmed down now, and no longer was angry at Estel. His little brother had been foolish, and really it was his fault, maybe, that Elrohir was hurt, but somehow having the same little brother cry on your shoulder and admit that he just didn’t want to let you down made all those things pale into insignificance.

Yet Elladan wasn’t sure what he would do if Estel asked him and Elrohir to stop trying to protect him. He was their little brother. And he was so much more at the same time. He needed their protection. Ai Valar, the world needed them to keep him safe, because he had been telling the truth when he had said it to Estel. Estel would live to see the end, because the end was coming. And Elladan didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified by that thought.

A muffled groan came from behind him, and Elladan turned with a smile on his face to see Legolas sit up. The smile faded when he took in the blond elf’s pale face, his slightly glazed, fevered eyes, and Elladan quickly pressed his hand to Legolas’ forehead.

Legolas swatted at him. “Get off,” he said half-heartedly, but Elladan’s face remained worried.

“You still have a fever,” he said. “How do you feel?”

Legolas sighed. “Fine. I feel fine,” he said exasperatedly. “It is just a slight fever. It will go soon, and I will be fine.”

Elladan raised one eyebrow. “And you say this family is stubborn,” he remarked with a smile. “I do not envy your healers in Mirkwood.”

Legolas chuckled. “In defence, it is not that I like being in the healing wards. And I do not go looking for battles. They just happen.”

“Peace,” said Elladan with a smile. “I do not place fault on you. I understand.” And he really did. He knew how dangerous it was, what they did. He knew how none of them were willing to give up that life if it meant seeing more people die, people they could protect. And so he knew that, no matter how many times any of them ended up in the care of healers, it was not their fault.

Legolas smiled. “How is Estel?” he asked, noticing the young man asleep and curled in on himself on the other bed. Elladan smiled softly.

“Upset and tired,” he said. “I think it helps I am no longer angry at him, though. He will feel better when he wakes up.”

“He is growing up,” said Legolas softly. “Even I have noticed it, Elladan, so you must be blind not to. He will make a good man soon.”
“I know,” said Elladan quietly. He sat there, lost in thought for a moment, before abruptly getting to his feet and moving over to the side. “You need to drink more water,” he said, pouring out a cup and handing it over. “Your fever will probably go down on its own, but water won’t hurt.”

Legolas nodded in thanks and took the cup, drinking it down quickly. Elladan snatched it back and filled it up again. “Drink,” he said, handing it back. Legolas rolled his eyes, but drank it all anyway.

“You seem in a better mood,” he said with a smile. “I think Elrohir’s awakening cleared your head a little. You have to admit you were less than sensible earlier on.”

“I know,” said Elladan with a wry smile. “But then again, I still remember when you damaged your hunting knives so badly that you had to have new ones made, because you spent hours hurling them into a target when Belhadron was badly hurt. So really, I have done well this time.”

Legolas chuckled. “Aye, I suppose you have,” he said. “There are no broken lamps this time.”

“That was once,” said Elladan with a sigh. “And yet you bring it up every. Single. Time. Can you just forget it?”

“No,” said Legolas with a laugh. It hadn’t been funny at the time, of course, even though he had not known of it. He had been unconscious. He had found out when, days later when he was conscious and able to stay awake for more than a few minutes, he asked about the reason for the thin bandages covering Elladan’s hands. Elrohir, with a smile on his face, had told Legolas how Elladan had gotten far too angry and had picked up an empty lamp and smashed it against the wall, cutting his hands in the process.

But it had been long ago, and he had been fine eventually. So now, rather than relive the fear and worry that they had all gone through, they decided to laugh at Elladan’s stupidity. None of them knew when it was they had decided, but at some point each one of them had decided that they were scarred enough. So they each put on a smile and laughed.

You don’t always get to choose what scars you end up bearing. But you have some say in how deep you allow them to run.

0-o-0-o-0

Estel’s eyes blinked open blearily. He hated sleeping so much, as often happened when he was ill. And as much as he liked getting the rest, over a day of near constant sleeping became irritating. He felt like he was missing out on most of the day.

Yawning, his jaw clicking as it stretched, Estel rolled onto his back. It was darker now, around twilight, and there was only one torch burning on the opposite wall. There should be more torches in here, though.

Estel grimaced and sat up, running a hand through his hair to at least attempt to tame it. He looked over at the beds next to him, wondering if either Elladan or Legolas were awake. He knew Legolas was still feeling the effects of a slight fever, and hoped the blond elf was better than the last time he had been awake.

He turned his head, and then suddenly froze, the breath in his mouth just stopping.

Elrohir gave a wan smile from where he was half sat up in his bed.

“Elrohir,” breathed Estel. “Elbereth, you’re awake.”

Elrohir smiled, but his face was still far too pale and he looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. “Are you alright, Estel?” he asked, his voice rasping in his throat.

“Am I alright? Ai Valar, I’m fine!” replied Estel. “I should be asking you! How do you feel?”

Elrohir paused for a moment. “Fine,” he said, and his eyes flickered over to where Elladan and Legolas were.

Estel only noticed them now, sitting on the end of Elrohir’s bed. Legolas was looking far better, and Estel suspected the fever had broken sometime after he had fallen asleep, but still the blond elf had his ankle propped up carefully in front of him. And Elladan…

Elladan had a smile on his face that Estel only realised now had been missing for the past few days. It was like he had forgotten, with everything that had happened, that his brother could smile. And now, with Elrohir’s announcement that he was fine, the smile grew, and both Elladan and Legolas laughed.

“I thought your father didn’t raise you to be such liars,” Legolas jested. Elrohir grinned.

“No, it was your influence,” he said back with a chuckle. His hand then went to his head as he winced. Elladan leant forwards.

“Brother?” he asked, the smile on his face dimming.

Elrohir looked up. “Elladan, stop worrying so much,” he said. “Head wounds hurt; you should know. It’s nothing I cannot deal with.”

“I will stop worrying, brother, when there is no bandage around your head and you can sit up without nearly collapsing,” said Elladan, but his voice was light and there was a shadow missing from his face that Estel hadn’t realised had been there before.

Legolas chuckled, and when Estel looked at him, confused, he elaborated. “Elrohir decided that he was well enough to sit up immediately when he awoke. I think he now knows it was a bad idea, given that he nearly collapsed again and made all of us, your father included, worried.”

Estel chuckled. “Adar has been here?” he asked.

Legolas nodded. “He left just a few moments before you woke up.” Legolas guessed, probably rather accurately, that Elrond had wanted to give the four of them some time to talk, though he had left with a stern warning not to overtire Elrohir. A warning that Elrohir would probably blatantly disregard, if Legolas knew his friend.

Estel looked around, and Elladan noticed the same look on his face that he usually got after they had been training and Estel had forgotten to eat lunch. He chuckled. “We finished the food a while ago, Estel. Why don’t you go and get us some more? You can’t have eaten for over a day.”

Estel grinned and stood up, but paused. The story that Legolas had told him seeped back into his mind, and even though he knew that Elrohir was alright, the said elf sitting up and talking to Legolas right now, he suddenly found himself afraid that he would leave and suddenly everything would go wrong. It wasn’t rational- he knew that. But that was the thing about fears- they didn’t have to be rational to still terrify you.

Elladan looked up and softly smiled at Estel, seemingly guessing what was on his mind. He nodded slightly, and Estel smiled a little back. He turned and left, heading out towards the kitchens. Given everything that had happened, he was sure he would be able to get something sweet from the cooks if he asked nicely. Unfortunately, they were all too accustomed to him sneaking into the pantry to steal food whenever he could.

Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas watched him go. Elrohir smiled a little and looked over to where his brother and friend were sitting, wincing as the movement made him dizzy. “Is he alright?” he rasped.

Elladan sighed. “I think he still blames himself,” he murmured. “But less than he did at the start.” He chuckled. “I blame him less than I did.”

Elrohir glared a little at Elladan, before wincing again as it pulled at the stitches in his temple. “Tell me you didn’t shout at him, brother,” he said, his voice rough yet still sounding exasperated.

Legolas grinned. “Only a little,” he said. “And I don’t think Estel is holding anything against anyone, anymore, even if he still doesn’t quite realise why you protect him still.”

“Good,” murmured Elrohir, his eyes shutting briefly. “He was trying to do the right thing, I think. And anyway, we all know how bad things can go, no matter what you do.” And he was right. Sometimes you could put in all the effort you had, you could try as hard as you could, you could do absolutely everything right, and still you would lose, and still people would get hurt, and still, at the end of the day, you would have failed. And there was never really any comfort in the fact that there was nothing else you could have done, because still you had failed.

It was a feeling that, for better or worse, the three of them had experienced probably too much for their liking. But, like so many other things, it was almost a necessity of the long and bitter war they were in.

Elladan and Legolas both nodded agreement, and the conversation smoothly flowed into different topics, shifting until it settled on the Battle of the Five Armies, Elladan and Elrohir telling Legolas what Mithrandir had told them, and Legolas telling them what had happened from his point of view in turn.

It was a little while later that Estel, bearing a tray of food filled high with everything he could take from the kitchens, came back to the healing wards. The door was hanging half open, and he went to lean against it to push it open, his hands full with food that was making his stomach growl.

But then he heard the soft voices on the other side, and he paused. He didn’t know what it was that made him stop and listen. The three elves weren’t even talking about him. From what he could hear, they were talking of the Battle of the Five Armies.

Estel didn’t enter the room as he listened to them quietly talk. At the moment, Legolas seemed to be recounting the final battle. He listened with something like horror growing in him as Legolas told of the fighting, of the orcs and wargs, the bats constantly spiralling overhead. The dead and the dying surrounding them, the rest of them fighting on because they had to.

Of course, Legolas didn’t exactly say those words, but it was what was running through Estel’s head as he listened. It sounded awful. But even worse was the tone of Legolas’ voice, the simple statement of what had happened.

Elrohir answered to something that the blond elf said, his voice rough, but still recognisably level and light. Elladan and Legolas both laughed at what he said, and Estel listened as Elladan started to talk, recounting some other tale. This one was darker, even darker than what Legolas had been talking about. Legolas asked something and Estel found out when this had happened, before the Watchful Peace when everything had been dark. Or at least, darker than they were now. For now, anyway.

Elladan continued with the tale, Elrohir jumping in with a tired voice every now and then to clarify some point. And the tale, the recount of some incredibly dangerous and damaging journey that Elladan and Elrohir had been on, became darker and darker, worse and worse, until Estel was struggling to hold back a gasp at what had happened to his brothers and the Rangers they had been riding with. At what they had done, trying to survive and do what they thought was right.

And suddenly something akin to guilt, but softer, less attacking, rushed through him. He didn’t think he had ever realised just how much his brothers had done over all these years. Elladan and Elrohir had always protected him not just from being hurt, but from all the horrors they had endured. His brothers had always been very reluctant to tell Estel stories of previous adventures. Now Estel thought he understood why.

And it was this realisation that suddenly left Estel feeling hollow and empty, and simply shocked. He knew this was just a touch of everything that had happened to his brothers, and Legolas as well, and everything they had done. And he was shocked that after seemingly everything, they were still willing to protect him, to fight against it all. He didn’t know how they had kept going.

And with that thought, he stepped into the room, carefully balancing the tray of food. He kept his face carefully blank, and the conversation between the three elves broke off as he entered, all three of them looking over at him. Sudden smiles broke out at the sight of the tray laden with food.

“Are you sure you have enough, Estel?” asked Legolas. His voice was light and Estel wondered how that was possible, when he had heard their conversation only moments ago. He smiled, but it felt fake, and set the tray down on the side.

“I thought you might be hungry as well,” he said, picking up a freshly baked roll and tearing it open. “So I brought a lot more than I thought I would eat on my own.”

Despite his growling stomach and the appetising bread roll in his hand, Estel merely toyed with it as he sat down on the edge of the neighbouring bed. What had been on his mind for the past day or so, ever since they got back, had now been brought forwards by listening in to his brothers’ and Legolas’ conversation just now.

Elladan looked over at him. “Spit it out, little brother.”

Estel’s head jerked up. “What?”

Elladan chuckled. “Estel, I have known you for fourteen years. Elrohir and I helped raise you. We can tell when you are working up the courage to say something. So spit it out!”

Estel sighed and rubbed his hands down the leggings he was wearing. “I want to make a deal,” he said abruptly.

Elladan and Legolas, before only half looking over at Estel, now shifted so they were facing him fully. Elrohir faced him a few seconds later, having taken a little longer to turn given his head’s tendency to violently spin whenever he moved too fast.

“I never realised we taught our little brother to bargain,” said Elladan. Legolas softly thumped Elladan on the arm and shot him a warning glare. Elladan looked at Estel this time, really looked at him, and he seemed to notice something, because his smile faded and he sat forwards.

“What is it, Estel?” asked Elrohir, his voice tired. Estel glanced over at him and saw once again the dark circles under his brother’s eyes and the drooping eyelids. Elrohir wouldn’t stay awake much longer.

“I want to make a deal,” he said. “I want you to teach me to fight properly, and I want you to stop trying to protect me as much as you do now.”

There was silence. Elladan went to speak, and then paused. Finally it was Legolas who spoke up. “What do you mean?” he said carefully. “You know how to fight. You proved that, Estel.”

Estel shook his head. “There’s a difference between what I know and what you know,” he insisted. “I want to learn how to fight like you three, how to fight properly.”

Elladan found his voice. “There’s a difference because we are far older,” he said. “You will learn in time, Estel. You have to be patient.”

Estel ground his teeth. “I don’t have time to be patient!” he spat out. “I am mortal. I do not have hundreds or thousands of years to perfect my skills. And you do not teach me the same things that you practice. I don’t just want to know how to defend myself. I want to learn how to be a proper fighter, a warrior. I don’t want to let anyone down again because I’m not good enough, and you know that, Elladan.”

Elladan blinked. “Anything else?” he asked, his voice a little short.

Estel nodded. “Actually, there is. Elbereth, you have tried to protect me for all of my life. I’m not asking you to stop doing that. I understand it, I think, and know that nothing will ever stop you trying to keep me safe, just like nothing will ever stop me wanting to learn to fight properly.” Estel sighed, and paused.

“But I want you two to try and let me find my own way a little. I want to grow up, I want to be able to protect people like you have protected me all these years.” Estel smiled a little. “I think I owe you by now.”

“He’s right.”

Estel looked at Legolas, surprised. The blond elf merely smiled, and shrugged. “Estel is right. Protection goes both ways, mellyn-nin. You can’t expect Estel not to want to look out for you two, and yet keep on trying to shield him as much as you can. That’s not how it works.”

“Exactly,” said Estel, glad someone was taking his side. “You have to try and stop shielding me as much as you do now. I am old enough to start to fight like you fight, to learn how to protect others rather than just defend myself. I want to do this.”

Elladan paused for a minute, his eyes staring at something just past Estel’s head. At a nudge from Legolas he blinked and focused once more on his little brother.

“So…” he said slowly, absent-mindedly fiddling with the edge of the sheet on Elrohir’s bed. “That isn’t much of a deal, Estel. A deal implies we get something in return.”

Estel grinned sheepishly. “I was kind of hoping you would forget that,” he said. The grin then faded. “Truthfully, I don’t know what I can offer to you two.”

Elrohir spoke up. “Do you know why we protect you, Estel, why we are so eager to keep you safe?” He stopped, his voice cracking under the strain of staying awake for this long, and he looked to Elladan to continue.

Elladan paused, and Legolas shifted where he sat on the edge of the bed. He winced slightly as he jarred his ankle. “Tell him, Elladan,” he said softly. “It may help him understand a little better, and I think it is about time he knew.”

“’He’ has a name,” said Estel softly, but there was no ire in his voice. Elladan smiled slightly at his comment, and turned to face his younger brother.

“You’ve probably guessed at most of the reasons that we want to protect you,” he said. “It is obvious that we want to keep you safe, Estel. You are our brother and we love you. But there is more to it that I don’t think you understand yet.”

Elladan sighed, and rubbed his hand over his face. “There is so much more that you don’t understand, little brother.”

0-o-0-o-0

Elladan paused, and looked over at Elrohir and Legolas beseechingly. Estel was surprised to see his brother’s eyes damp, and wondered how much this admission was costing all of them.

Legolas picked up the thread, understanding what it was that Elladan and Elrohir were trying to say. “What I don’t think you realise yet, Estel, and this is not your fault because you have been protected from it all your life, is that what we do is horrific. It is bloody and messy and can be terrifying. And that is only the battles that we are forced into, that we fight because we have no other choice.”

“So how do you think it feels when we actively seek out the orcs, when we go out hunting? At the time it feels right, it feels like if we didn’t do it then others would die later on. But when the hunt is over, when the orcs are dead and we are left on our own, that is when we wonder what it is we are doing.” Legolas visibly swallowed, and Estel thought maybe he paled slightly as well.

“That, Estel, is when we hate what we do, when we are disgusted at ourselves for what we have done. So your brothers kept you safe, kept you in the dark about it, because to do anything else, to reveal what we have fought rather hard to keep hidden, is-”

“Something we never wanted to burden you with.” Elrohir’s voice was low and raspy, and he sounded exhausted, but he was awake still, and Estel noticed that his eyes, like Elladan’s, and maybe even like Legolas’, were damp. And again he felt a pang as he realised how much this confession meant to his brothers and Legolas, and how maybe how they even expected him to hate them for it.

Elrohir continued, his voice slow and soft as he fought for the words and against the competing exhaustion. “You came here when you were two years old,” he said softly, and nobody questioned the change in direction in the conversation. “And we both remember the day when we rode out of the Dunedain village with Gilraen and you. You cried until we rode across the river, when you stopped and just stared at the rushing water.”

“You never stopped staring at everything as we rode into Imladris. And then as you began to walk around, began to settle in, we would find you anywhere and everywhere, crawling down the corridors in a bid to go and see the new thing that had excited you for the day.” Elrohir chuckled softly. “It became worse when you were able to walk, and knew your way around. Elladan and I spent hours searching for you every day.”

“We’ve watched you grow up, Estel, and you are our little brother, regardless of blood. And when your little brother spends all of his childhood years looking up to you like you are perfect, then you try very, very hard to keep him believing that, no matter how old he grows up to be.”

Elrohir stopped there, his eyes dangerously full, and he blinked, looking over at Elladan. Elladan nodded, and turned to Estel to continue.

Estel took in his reddened, damp eyes and the stiffness in his shoulders, and felt a sudden surge of something that wasn’t pity, wasn’t really sympathy, but a curious mixture of sadness and understanding that left a pain in his chest that wasn’t due to any injury. Elladan took a deep breath, and then continued.

“We protected you, Estel, because we didn’t want you to see just how far we could fall. We didn’t want to ruin that look that you used to have when you looked up to us as a child, that we were everything that you wanted to be. And it was selfish- we know that. But we have lived too long, and come far too far, for us to remain selfless.”

One lone tear spilled from Elladan’s eye, and when he next spoke, his voice was hushed, almost pleading. “You said you didn’t want to let us down, little brother,” he said. “Well, it works both ways.”

Estel didn’t know what to say to that. His mouth opened, and then he shut it again. What could he say to that? What could he say, when his brothers basically admitted that they were scared that once Estel found out ‘who they really were’, as it were, then he wouldn’t look up to them like he once did.

Legolas shifted on the bed, and then opened his mouth. “And there is a reason, Estel, why we are so willing to protect not just you, but anyone that we can. Protecting people, keeping our homes safe, is one of the only things we know how to do. We know how to fight, and we know how to use that to keep the things we love safe. And right now, we are beginning to think that this may not be enough. That all our skills, all that we have, may not even be enough to stem the tide.”

Legolas paused for a moment, and took a breath. “So we do this because it is what we know how to do. Because it is one of the only things we think we can do to try and stem the tide. And we have seen too much, Estel, to think that this will be enough. We have done too much to know whether we are definitely doing the right thing anymore. So we do what we can, and sometimes even that doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”

The three elves together paused, taking a few moments to gather themselves before they turned back to Estel.

“We agree,” said Elrohir suddenly, and Estel clearly noticed now the exhaustion in his voice.

“To what?” he asked, now confused. He had been thrown completely off track by his what his brothers had said, what they had finally told him, after all these years, and the previous conversation had just fled his mind.

“To your deal,” said Elladan tiredly, but also with a slight smile. “We agree. We will teach you as much as we can, teach you far more than we have been teaching you so far. And we will try to shield you less. We can make no promises, because you are our little brother, and we will always want to keep you safe, but we will try.”

“But if we are to do this,” said Elrohir. “Then you have to promise that if you want to come with us, then you ask. You do not sneak off after us, and surprise and terrify us when you catch up. And if we say that you cannot do something, if we insist, then you listen to us.”

Estel nodded. He had already agreed with himself that he would never sneak off after his brothers again, never let his foolishness overtake common sense. “Fair enough,” he said.

“Good,” said Elladan, and just like that the only evidence of Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas’ admissions are the huge weight that they revealed to Estel was in their still slightly damp, red eyes, and Elladan’s subtle rubbing of his cheeks to remove the tear-track stains.
Estel shifted where he sat on the edge of his bed. “So what now?” he asked. “You can’t really start teaching me anything until my arm has healed, and-”

Elladan smiled. “Who said it all had to be fighting?” he asked. “To be able to protect that which you love properly, there is a lot more than being deadly with a sword. If you go into my chambers, there is a small pile of books on the desk next to the fireplace. Bring them, and we will start now.” There was no evidence of the previous conversation in Elladan’s voice now, and the sudden change shocked Estel, leaving him still for a few moments as he worked to process it.

“And an arm in cast does not mean you cannot fight,” said Legolas. “You have done so already. In a few days, maybe, when Elrohir can stay awake for longer than a few minutes-” This was said with a pointed glance at Elrohir, whose head was falling forwards as he gave in to the temptation of sleep. Legolas smiled, and continued. “Then we will begin sparring.”

Estel’s mind finally caught up with him, and he stood up, turned and left the room to retrieve those books. As he left, he glanced back over his shoulder.

Elladan and Legolas had shifted closer together on the end of the bed, Legolas with one hand gently squeezing Elladan’s shoulder. As Estel watched the blond elf dropped the hand and sighed. Something at that point was exchanged between the three elves, something Estel could only just begin to understand, even with all that they had just told him.

They looked so old, Estel realised. They looked so very old.

Chapter Text

By the time Estel had found the books, which had not actually been on the desk by the fireplace but on the little table on the balcony, and made his way back to the healing wards, Elrohir had given up on staying awake. When Estel walked in to the healing wards, it was to the sight of Elrohir lying on his side, sleeping. He looked so peaceful when he slept, Estel noticed. It was like all of the worries that Estel didn’t know had existed had suddenly vanished, and his brother looked young again.

Of course, it might have something to do with the empty cup on the bedside table and the unmistakable smell of a freshly made sleeping draught in the air. Legolas looked up from where he sat on the end of Elrohir’s bed, and smiled slightly.

“Put them on the other bed, Estel,” he said softly. “Elladan is just filling your father in on things, and then he will be back.”

Estel nodded and carefully put the books down so as not to wake Elrohir, even though he knew from experience that sleeping draughts literally make you dead to the world until they wear off. Though maybe dead was a little too literal for right now.

“What are these books on?” asked Estel, his voice hushed, and he flipped through them. They were all beautiful books, bound in cloth and with thin pages that slipped softly under his fingers, fine print that made him long for the stories he had read as a child. Sometimes there was no better thing than a good book.

Legolas got up slowly from the bed, but he was only limping slightly as he made his way over and sat down on the other bed. He picked up one book, and then flipped through the rest of them, reading the titles or first few pages.

“Records of old battles, old and current defences of Middle Earth,” he said idly, flicking through one. “Two are on the realms of Men, the Last Alliance and Gondor. The rest are on elven kingdoms, I think. Though this one,” he said, picking up an old dog-eared book with a faded green cover. “Will be of no use at all.”

“Why not?” asked Estel, reaching out for the book. Legolas flipped it open and showed him the pages.

“Unless you can read Silvan, then this is no use to you,” he said. “It is a book that I once brought with me, one time I visited, and left it behind for Elladan and Elrohir to read.” He smiled softly. “I didn’t know they had kept it all this time.”

“Wait, how old is it?” asked Estel. The book looked old, definitely. Its pages were nearly falling out and it had that smell that only old books could have, that was somehow comforting.

Legolas shrugged. “I left it here about two hundred years ago,” he said. “It’s lasted pretty well.” He leafed through it carefully, his eyes scanning pages, and a small smile came over his face. “It’s a history of Mirkwood, from the Last Alliance up until the start of the Watchful Peace. I helped write a little of this, towards the end. Nothing much, just recounted some of the battles.” He put the book back down carefully. “There will probably be a translation somewhere in this house. The Valar know how large the library is here.”
“So what are these for?” asked Estel, picking up a book that was about something to do with the Last Alliance and opening it at a random page. “What does Elladan want to teach me with these?”

Legolas picked up his old book again. “Learning to fight is more than knowing how to use a sword. If you want to really learn, they you have to know how to plan a battle, how to construct defences or position your warriors correctly. Maybe you will have to learn how to make an ambush, or how to foil one set for you. Some of this can only be learnt through experience, but these books will help teach this.” He smirked. “Believe it or not, poetry or great tales of old are not the only things that we read.”

Estel chuckled softly, his eyes darting over to Elrohir, checking he was still asleep. He didn’t really need to check, not when he knew the potency of the sleeping draughts Elrond could concoct. But it was strange seeing his brother, normally so active, constantly doing something, be so still.

The door swung open and Elladan walked quietly into the room. Seeing Estel and Legolas sat together on the bed, the books in between them, he smiled.

“Adar agreed to our deal,” he said softly as he sat down next to Legolas, both of them facing Estel. Elladan grinned at Estel’s confused expression. “You didn’t think we were going to do anything without Adar’s permission, and by his, Glorfindel’s? We are not suicidal, Estel.”

Estel chuckled. “I suppose that would be suicide, wouldn’t it?” he said. He picked up one of the books. “Where do we start?”
Elladan took the book out of his hands and picked up another. “Here,” he said, flipping the book open and finding a certain chapter. “Histories of Gondor and the surrounding lands, this chapter on a particular skirmish that happened around six hundred years ago. Read it, and then tell us what they could have done differently to avoid…this particular outcome.”

Estel took the book and began to read. And even though he wasn’t out on the fields with a blade in his hand, even though he was just sitting on a bed reading a book, he felt like finally, he was doing what he needed to be doing, what he should be doing. And even if he was only reading a chapter from an old book where too many people died because of some stupid mistakes, it felt like finally, he was beginning to do the right thing.

0-o-0-o-0

It took two more days until Elrohir was balanced enough on his own two feet for the three elves and Estel to move outside and begin to spar. After a week, a routine was established. Legolas would wake Estel up early in the morning, and, with all four of them having now left the healing wards and moved back to their own chambers, they would go to Elrohir’s rooms, where Elladan and Elrohir would be waiting.

In Elrohir’s room they would eat breakfast whilst the three elves began to teach basic strategies and battle planning to Estel. After a while they would then head outside to the training fields. Each day was different. The first day, Legolas tied Estel’s arm that was in a cast behind his back, and then Elladan stepped up to spar with him. The next day, they did the same, and then blindfolded him and threw clay balls filled with small bells for him to shoot at. The day after that, they added in knife throwing, apart from the knives were not regular throwing knives, but knives of almost every kind they could lay their hands on. A few probably were better classed as small swords than actual knives. And yet his brothers and Legolas did not let up until Estel could hit the targets with all of them, and could hit the inner rings with the more traditional throwing knives.

After the gruelling training sessions, which went well past lunchtime, the routine varied. On the first day, Estel was so exhausted that he went straight to his rooms and slept until the bell for supper tolled. The next day, he managed to stay awake a while longer, working with the horses. It was just Legolas with him then, because Elrohir was still weak and did nothing more than sit and watch the sparring, occasionally offering some advice or comment. So in the afternoons, when Elladan had gone inside with Elrohir, Legolas worked with Estel on their own.

The second afternoon of full-on training, Legolas taught Estel how to shoot from the back of a galloping horse and still hit the target, as well as stay on the horse. The afternoon after that, they spent the time on the training fields, Legolas teaching Estel how to move like a Wood Elf, how to dodge and duck blows without losing speed or your advantage. The next afternoon, Legolas started to teach Estel basic birdcalls and signals to communicate when you couldn’t see the others, much like he had used to find Elladan and Elrohir.

And so it went on. Each day was exhausting, gruelling and left Estel feeling sometimes shaky with tiredness and slightly frayed nerves. His brothers had not been joking when they warned him they had been holding back a lot. Even though Estel knew they wouldn’t intentionally hurt him, every time a blade flashed a little too close to his neck, or a blow only just missed his face, it sent a shot of adrenaline through him.

Today was no different. A knock came on Estel’s door early in the morning, followed by Legolas walking into the room with a smile on his face. “Morning,” he said cheerfully.

Estel rubbed his eyes, and sat up with a grin. “I swear you are getting me up earlier every day,” he said with a groan, but he swung himself out of bed anyway.

Legolas chuckled. “I promise I’m not,” he said, moving across the room and throwing open the curtains. It was a miserable day outside, the rain drizzling down from thick grey clouds. Estel stretched out his sore, stiff muscles as he moved over to the balcony doors and looked out.

“Miserable,” he murmured, cricking his neck. “Isn’t it meant to be summer?”

Legolas laughed and tossed Estel a fresh tunic from his cupboard. “Aye it is, and it will get worse before the day is out,” he said. “You can hear it in the trees?”

Estel raised one eyebrow. “You can?”

“A wood elf can,” said Legolas with a grin. “We spend out lives underneath the trees. We can tell when it is about to rain. Hurry up and get dressed, Estel.”

Estel pulled a face, but changed out of his loose sleeping clothes and into the tunic, leggings and tight boots that served as his normal clothes now. Legolas looked pointedly at Estel’s hair. “Have you considered using a brush, Estel?” he asked pleasantly, a slight smile creeping over his face.

Estel rolled his eyes. “Just because I don’t have perfect hair like all you insufferable elves,” he muttered, running a hand through it until it was at least tameable. “Are we going?”

“Aye,” said Legolas, holding open the door. Estel grabbed hold of a jacket as they left, pushing his arms through the thin leather sleeves, and followed Legolas as they made their way down the corridor towards Elrohir’s room.

Elladan was staying in Elrohir’s rooms until he was fully better; something that it seemed Legolas had fully expected to happen, even assumed. Estel wasn’t sure why, but he guessed it was yet another thing that had developed from all the harrowing experiences his brothers and Legolas had been through.

Estel pushed open the door into the first room of Elrohir’s chambers, where there was a fire slumbering in the hearth. Elrohir and Elladan were sat at the table in the middle of the room, Elrohir slumped in his chair whilst Elladan sat next to him, absent-mindedly eating an apple. Elrohir still had a bandage around his head, and though the stitches had been removed a few days ago, he still looked pale.

Estel grinned as he slumped into a chair and reached for one of the apples in the bowl in the middle of the table. “What are we doing today?” he asked, eyeing the old scrolls stacked at the end of the table.

Elrohir pushed them towards him. “Read them and find out,” he said with a smile.

They spent over an hour in Elrohir’s rooms, eating breakfast and studying the scrolls, Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas quizzing Estel on various things they had been teaching him over the past week or so, and the content of the scrolls. By the end Estel felt a little like pounding his head on the table. It was coming to be a well-known feeling.

Eventually Elladan got up from the table. “Come on, then,” he said with a smile, snagging his sword belt from where it was draped over the back of a couch. “Training fields.”

Estel jumped up. “What’s happening today?” he asked, grabbing his own sword and belt from where he had left in in these rooms yesterday. Legolas was already wearing his usual quiver and twin knives, though he didn’t have his bow today.

The blond elf grinned. “You are sparring with me today.”

0-o-0-o-0

Estel eyed Legolas warily. “You look like you are going to enjoy this far too much,” he said.

Legolas chuckled, but didn’t say anything other than reminding Estel to watch his footing on the mud. The twin blades hung loosely in his hands, but Estel was nowhere near fooled. He had seen those knives in action, and knew just how deadly they could be.
His sword felt a little heavy in his hand, and he tightened his grip until his knuckles stood out, white. The drizzling rain wasn’t helping with that, either, making the worn handle of the sword slippery.

Elladan stepped back a little from between the two. “If you can, you should fight with honour, Estel,” he said. “But there is no point fighting with honour if your enemy will not. Then honour will only get you killed. This is why we fight like this, in training. The more tricks you know, the more chance you have of winning any fight, of fighting your way out of insurmountable odds like we have done before.”

Estel nodded, adjusting his grip on his sword and raising it to a defensive position. Legolas brought his knives up with a small smile, and Estel, not being able to help himself, grinned back.

Elladan and Elrohir stepped back until they were clear, and then Elladan nodded. Estel barely had time to prepare himself before he suddenly found himself parrying the first blow from Legolas’ knives.

At first the sparring wasn’t too hard, and by that Estel meant that he wasn’t being totally and utterly defeated by Legolas. He was only just keeping up with Legolas’ flashing knives. Two knives meant twice as many things to concentrate on, and the weapons moved far faster than a sword. But then when Estel did manage to strike a blow, he felt how little strength the blond elf had in his two knives, compared to a sword. The only problem was that he was so fast.

And then Legolas started pressing him.

The first thing was, whilst Estel was blocking a blow, Legolas swung his leg around and swept Estel’s legs out from under him, knocking him down into the mud. A quick roll from Estel kept Legolas’ blade from striking down into him, had it been a real fight. Estel, panting as he came to his knees, suddenly decided that he wasn’t even going to attempt to play fair anymore.

With his free hand he dug his fingers into the mud, flinging a handful towards Legolas’ face as he rose. Legolas reeled backwards, instinctively ducking, and Estel used that opening to swing the flat of his blade around, aiming for Legolas’ ribs to knock him over. Legolas twisted and the blow only glanced his side. He recovered quickly, twisting his wrists so his blades flashed out and locked on Estel’s sword. Estel tugged backwards, twisting his blade in an effort to free it. Steel grated against steel, and then his sword was suddenly free.

The force sent Estel reeling back, and it took him a few steps to regain his balance. In that time Legolas had already moved. Estel spun, kicking out as he did so, and managed to catch Legolas with a glancing blow to the lower leg. Legolas’ leg buckled slightly, and he took a step forwards, his knives flashing out and the flat of them catching Estel in the stomach. The air was forced out of Estel’s lungs and he doubled over, gasping for air.

Swiftly Legolas brought the handle of one of his knives down on Estel’s back, and he fell down to the floor. At the last moment he twisted so his face didn’t fall in the mud. With a grunt of effort he swung his sword out, and managed to catch Legolas’ ankle.

Although the bond elf’s ankle had healed, and the stitches taken out a few days ago, it was still tender. Legolas’ leg buckled underneath him, and then as Estel reached out and grabbed his other leg, yanking it out from underneath the elf, he fell.

Unfortunately for Estel, an elf has far quicker reflexes than him. Legolas twisted mid air and threw himself to the side. His blades flashed out, and Estel stilled halfway through getting up as two silver points settled on his throat.

Estel gulped. “Those look rather sharp,” he said, looking down at the fine knives. He knew they were only sparring knives like the sword he was using, not Legolas’ actual hunting knives that were sitting safe in his room, but they still managed to look sharp.

Legolas laughed. “It’s funny how you notice these things when they are pointing at your neck,” he said. But the knives disappeared back into their sheaths, and in their place was a hand, reaching out to him.

Estel took it and pulled himself up, wincing at the dull ache on his torso from the flat of Legolas’ blades hitting him. He was sure it was going to leave a bruise. Legolas grinned at him.

“Well fought,” he said, attempting to wipe the mud from his face and only managing to smear it a little across his brow. “Even if you did get mud in my eyes.”

Estel grinned. “Sorry?” he offered, trying to wipe some of the mud from his tunic. He heard a short laugh, and looked up to see Elladan and Elrohir approaching. Elladan laughed again.

“You both look a mess,” he said with a smile. “Legolas, you look like you did when you fell into the stream in the northern glades.” Elrohir laughed at that.

“Do I get to clean up?” asked Estel, ineffectively wiping at the mud on his leggings.

Elrohir chuckled. “No,” he said with a grin. “You did well, Estel, but you have to move faster. We may move far faster than orcs, but the faster you can move, the more chance you have.” Elrohir smiled. “And try to stay on your feet. If you fall, the battle is already half lost.”

Estel nodded, and adjusted his grip as he turned to face Legolas again. The blond haired elf gave an easy smile as he raised his knives, and then the metal flashed as they began over again.

0-o-0-o-0

“Ai Valar.”

The groan came from the muddy ground, and Estel rolled over from where he had been knocked down, again. He groaned again.
“That one is going to bruise,” he said. “Like all the other ones.” He really did ache all over now. They had been going at it for hours now, alternating between the brutal sparring that was the cause of most of the aches, and other things that now seemed easy in comparison, though trying to shoot down clay balls when they literally were being thrown straight at your head was still pretty hard.

Elladan chuckled. “I have never known you to complain so much, little brother,” he said, offering his hand. Estel groaned for a third time.

“Do I have to get up?” he asked, trying to wipe the mud from his face and failing miserably. “I’m pretty sure this is more comfortable.”

There came a snort of laughter from above and Estel cracked open his eyes to see Legolas looking down at him. “You cannot eat lunch on the muddy floor.”

“Lunch?” asked Estel, grabbing hold of Elladan’s hand and swiftly pulled himself up. “Where?”

“I told you that would get him up,” said Elrohir with a laugh. He glanced up at the skies. “Quickly, before the rain really starts to fall.”

They were too late. Even as Elrohir spoke the clouds broke above them and they quickly became soaked. Estel cursed, picking up the various weapons he had been training with and making for the warmth and dryness of inside. Legolas was by his side as he jogged across the training fields and up the track, though the blond elf seemed indifferent to the rain. Elladan and Elrohir followed, after a brief wordless argument that Elladan quickly won, and resulted in him flipping the hood of Elrohir’s cloak up over his head.

They made it inside, quickly, though they were soaked by the time they got into the armoury that is the nearest part of the house to the training fields. Estel literally shook himself like a dog, grinning when Legolas recoiled at the flying drops of water.

“Aren’t you bothered by the rain?” asked Estel, watching the drops of water slide from Legolas’ wet blond hair. Behind him came a chuckle.

“You wait until you visit Mirkwood, Estel,” said Elrohir as he entered the armoury, pushing back his hood. Estel could still see the vivid scar across his temple, and his gaze fell away.

“Aye,” said Elladan, coming in behind his brother, his hand briefly clasping Elrohir’s shoulder in one of their unspoken conversations that Estel couldn’t understand. “You will not find rain so irritating after that.”

Legolas chuckled. “It rains all the time,” he said to Estel. “But usually it isn’t actually that strong. One of the advantages of living in a forest, I suppose.” He moved past Estel further into the armoury, slinging his quiver and knives off his back and down onto the end of a long table, and his attention turned to his weapons, carefully drying them and then beginning to oil the leather of his quiver.

Elladan and Elrohir began to do the same with their swords, oiling the scabbards and carefully drying the buckles so they wouldn’t rust. Elrohir glanced up. “Do your sword, Estel,” he said. “Then we will eat.”

Estel nodded and unbuckled his sword belt, grabbing a cloth from the workbench and beginning to dry off the wet leather. This had been drilled into him since he had first started training with weapons, and he knew exactly what to do. His brothers had repeated it again and again: the weapons were the things that quite often saved their lives, and the lives of so many others. They needed looking after.

And Estel was beginning to understand, a little, why his brothers kept their weapons in their rooms at all times, why they were always meticulously looked after, why even now there was an unspoken rule that meant he didn’t even retrieve his brothers’ weapons if they needed them, not without them asking him to. They almost owed their lives to their weapons, even though it was their own skill that made them so deadly.

Idle talk filled the armoury as the three elves and young man worked, cleaning and then putting away the sparring weapons that they had been using. None of them had been using their actual weapons, though Estel did not actually have a sword that he called his own yet.

Eventually they were done, and Legolas liberated lunch from the kitchens, even managing to charm the elves there to give him a few of the sweet pastries they had baked that morning. At Estel’s raised eyebrows on return to the room, he simply shrugged.

“I have had a lot of practice,” he said with a smile. “Hungry and weary warriors have long since forced the kitchens in Mirkwood to be near impregnable, or after every lengthy patrol or skirmish there would be nothing to serve for dinner.” He chuckled. “We have yet to work out ways around them.”

Elladan raised one eyebrow. “I am sure you have your methods,” he said. “Just don’t teach them to Estel. He already raids the pantries enough as it is, and we don’t need him eating everything in the house.”

Estel had the good graces to blush a little at this, his cheeks turning pinker than normal. “I don’t clean out the entire pantry,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that, little brother?” asked Elrohir with a smile. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

Estel glared at him good-naturedly. “Of course you heard me,” he snapped. “With your irritating elven hearing, you hear everything.” He snatched an apple from the table and somehow managed to bite into it with indignation. All three of the elves chuckled.

After a while Legolas shifted, and Estel looked over at him, noticing for the first time how the blond elf, though appearing relaxed and slouched in his chair, looked like one of the cats occasionally seen around Imladris. It was like he was almost ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. Estel suddenly recognised the posture, having seen it occasionally when his brothers though he wasn’t around.

He guessed it was what came from their lives, from their readiness to fight at a moment’s notice. It seemed more prominent in Legolas, but then his home had been under attack for a long time, whereas here, in Imladris, at least Elladan and Elrohir knew they were safe. Legolas didn’t seem like he knew that.

Legolas sat up, and his gaze wandered to the balcony and outside, where it was still raining. “We should get moving again,” he said. “We still have things to do.”

Elladan nodded, briefly catching Elrohir’s eye. Something, another of those infuriating unspoken conversations that Estel could never decipher, passed between them, and then both Elrohir and Elladan pushed back their chairs and stood up.

“Before you two get started, we wanted to give you something, Estel,” said Elladan, crossing the room to where a dark bundle sat on a chair. He picked it up and shook it out. “Here,” he said, handing it over.

Estel took it. It was a coat, made of dark green leather. If put on, it would hang down to near the top of his boots, and was thick enough to keep out water, or to keep him warm in snow. Estel felt a small smile creep across his face. This was different to pretty much anything he owned. This wasn’t the coat of a child anymore.

Legolas smiled from where he sat. “Put it on,” he said. “It should be a little big. We want you to grow into it.”

Estel, still not thinking he could say anything right now, pulled the coat on. Legolas was right, it was a little big, but it was still warm, and felt strangely comfortable, like he had worn it before. He was right- it hung down to just past the top of his boots, and the sleeves were a little long, but he somehow knew it would be the perfect size when he had finally finished growing.

“We thought you might need something a little warmer for this winter, if we are going to keep up this training,” said Elrohir, coming over and adjusting the coat around the shoulders. “And you need to learn to be able to fight with something like this flapping around your legs.” He cast an amused glance over at Elladan and Legolas, and the other two chuckled softly.

Elladan almost seemed a little nervous as he looked at Estel. “Do you like it?” he asked.

Estel felt a grin come across his face. His brothers had been trying to be less protective, had tried to let him take knocks and get pushed over. Legolas was helping a little, showing Elladan and Elrohir that Estel could take it. Sometimes they didn’t do too well. But this coat, for some strange reason, suddenly meant a lot to Estel.

“I love it,” he said, turning to his brothers, and hoping that they would realise what he was thinking. “Thank you.”

From the soft smiles that spread across their faces, he guessed he had gotten his message across.

Chapter Text

After a brief pause all three elves stirred again. Legolas moved over towards the balcony and leant on it, uncaring about the rain thundering down outside. Estel eyed it warily. “We aren’t going out in that, are we?” he asked, looking from Legolas to his brothers and back.

Elladan and Elrohir simply smiled knowingly, and Legolas merely shrugged. “It is only rain,” said the blond elf. He glanced over at Elladan and Elrohir. “I will try to make sure he doesn’t get too wet.”

Estel rolled his eyes. “I am mortal. Doesn’t mean I can’t get wet, Legolas.” He straightened and adjusted his new coat, grinning slightly as his fingers slipped over the smooth leather. “Are we leaving?” he asked, gesturing towards the door.

Elladan and Elrohir suddenly chuckled, and Estel glanced over at them. “What?” he asked. “What is it?”

Elladan merely smiled. “We need to be going,” he said, another unspoken message passing between him and Legolas, resulting in Legolas nodding slightly. Elladan turned back to Estel. “Good luck,” he said. “You might need it.”

On that, he and Elrohir turned and left. It took Estel a few seconds to catch up. “Wait,” he said, too late. “What do you mean, ‘I might need it’? Why are you wishing me good luck?” Sudden dread came over him, and he slowly turned to Legolas.

“What are we doing this afternoon?” he asked slowly, watching Legolas’ back as the elf leant on the balcony. “Legolas, tell me what we are doing.”

A low chuckle came from Legolas. “Are you ready to go?” he asked, straightening from the balcony and turning back to Estel. Estel noticed that he didn’t have any of his usual weapons on him, save for maybe a dagger hidden in his boot or up his sleeve. Legolas seemed like the kind of elf to keep a dagger hidden on him.

He nodded. “Aye,” he said, reaching to grab his cloak, where it was hung out drying over the back of a chair. Legolas shook his head.
“With what we are doing, it might be better to leave that,” he said. “You will get wet, but your new coat should keep you warm. Trust me, you will not want that cloak this afternoon.”

“And what exactly is it that we are doing this afternoon?” asked Estel. “Do I even need to get any weapons?”

Legolas shook his head again, that infuriating smile still on his face. “Shall we leave?” he asked.

Estel nodded, and was about to head for the door when Legolas turned back to the balcony. With a grin at Estel, he vaulted lightly over the edge and jumped into the branches of a nearby tree.

Estel’s mouth fell open slightly. That was what they were doing today. He strode over to the edge of the balcony and looked across to where Legolas was perched on the balls of his feet on a branch. He had made the jump look so easy.

“No doors today,” said Legolas cheerfully. “Take your time, and don’t take your eyes off your landing, but it is not actually much of a distance. Keep your knees bent on landing, though, or you will slide off the branch.”

Estel cursed loudly. “Do my brothers know you are making me do this?” he called out, hoping that they didn’t and he didn’t have to jump from his balcony.

Legolas’ smile widened. “I checked with them, and they told me the story of when you were ten years old and snuck out of your room one night by jumping off the balcony and climbing down the tree. If you can do it then, you can do it now.”

Estel rolled his eyes. “I was ten, Legolas. I was hardly aware of the dangers of jumping off a balcony in the dead of night.”

“And now it is the middle of the afternoon,” replied Legolas, his smile broad. “And you are far taller than you were six years ago. It should be easy.”

Estel growled under his breath. “Ai Valar, save me from irritating Sindar!” He sat on the balcony and swung his legs over so he was standing on the other side. Legolas shifted in the trees until Estel had a clear landing space, but so he was close enough if something did go wrong.

“There is no telling where you will end up later in your life,” he called out. “Someday, taking to the trees may be the only way you survive. Whilst I am here, I might as well teach you this.”

Estel glared at the blond elf, and fixed his eyes on the tree in front. It wasn’t actually that far away, a distance he could easily jump on the ground. It was just that it was a balcony, and a tree. He cursed under his breath, pushed off from the balcony and jumped.

0-o-0-o-0

“Trust in the strength of the trees. They have been here for far longer than you, and they will be here when you are gone. They will hold your weight.”

Estel grimaced, and shifted on the branch on which he was perched. This was by far the hardest thing Legolas had made him do yet. The branches were wet and slippery, and he couldn’t help but look down every time he went to jump or move through the trees.

It didn’t help that Legolas made it look effortless. He could run through the branches easily, not even looking like he was paying attention to where he was going, although Estel knew he was focused on every detail around them. In contrast, Estel was moving slowly. They were in the thickest part of the woods surrounding Imladris without straying too far from the house, but it was still irritatingly difficult to do what Legolas was asking him to do.

“You do realise I am heavier than you?” he shot back at Legolas. “Plus, I do not have your balance or infuriating sense of where the trees are. In case you haven’t worked it out, I am not a wood elf. And this is impossible.”

Legolas simply chuckled. “You won’t know until you try,” he said. “Be grateful I am not making you fight in the trees. In Mirkwood, we use the trees to train the younger warriors, making them spar in the branches. Elladan and Elrohir tried it once.” Legolas’ smile grew at the memories. “They didn’t do it again. Your brothers do not have the same sense of balance that a wood elf has.”

“So if they can’t do it, why should I?” Estel asked, adjusting his feet on the branches. His new coat was keeping him warm, but he was still soaked through, and a little miserable. The rain hadn’t let up at all for the past hour or so that they had been outside.

Legolas rolled his eyes, something that Estel found very un-elf-like, and shifted branches so he was crouched opposite Estel.

“Estel, we are not doing this for my pleasure, or because I did not think you could do it. You said you wanted us to push you harder, to make you better, stronger. This is how we do it. And it may mean trying things that seem impossible, but there is no way you will become what you want to become without doing something that terrifies you, or that you think you simply cannot do.”

Estel gritted his teeth. “Fine,” he muttered, and Legolas swiftly moved out of the way.

“Keep your eyes on the branch,” he said, and Estel sucked in a breath, his eyes focused on the branch across and below from him. He took his hand away from the trunk of the tree and breathed in again. And then his feet left the branch.

For a brief moment he exulted in victory as his feet hit the branch, but the moment was indeed brief. The branch was wet and slippery, and he forgot to bend his knees and crouch as he landed. His feet shot out from underneath him, and then he was falling.
Estel twisted in mid-air as he fell, his reflexes sharp enough to manage that, and landed on his side on the wet, mossy floor. The wind was completely knocked out of him and for a moment he curled in on himself, struggling to draw breath.

There was a slight thump near his head and then a warm hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Estel?” came Legolas’ voice from nearby. Estel nodded, and pushed himself up until he was half slouched on the floor of the wood.

His father’s lessons rang in his ears, and though his body was panicking and desperate to pull in any air he could get, he kept his breaths slow and measured until finally, they returned to normal. He looked up at Legolas with a weak grin.

“I told you it was impossible,” he said with a groan as he fell back onto the wet floor, not caring if the damp was soaking into already wet leggings. Legolas stayed crouched by him, a slight smile coming across his face. He glanced up at the trees.

“It was quite a long fall,” he said, but his voice was solemn, and Estel got the impression that he was speaking of something other than the distance from the branch to the ground. He rolled his eyes. Curse Elves and their riddles.

“It would be far easier if you could speak plainly,” he said, stretching out cautiously to check he was alright. He ached, but thanks to his brothers and Legolas that was almost a common thing now. He doubted the fall would even leave much of a bruise. He had taken tumbles from trees like that before, only he had been a lot younger, and had bounced more.

Legolas smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know it can be hard,” he said. “Your brothers and I have spent hundreds of years training to be as good as we are now. You are only just starting. And I know that sometimes when you hit the ground it is a long way up again, and you just aren’t sure if you want to climb all that way back up, just to fall again. I get that.”

“Really?” asked Estel, though there was no ire in his voice. “You and my brothers seem pretty perfect at this stuff to me.”

Legolas snorted. “We have made plenty of mistakes, believe me,” he said. “And each time it gets a little bit harder to get up. But you have to get up, Estel.” He chuckled. “This sounds rather melodramatic for a fall from a tree, but I know from experience that if you do not get up now, it will become even easier to just accept defeat when something far worse happens.”

Estel was about to sigh, and then the words that Legolas had said actually filtered through into his mind. Legolas was right. Estel had seen his brothers talking sometimes, when they thought he wasn’t really listening, and he knew that times were becoming darker once more. He knew that far worse things were coming for them all. And if he couldn’t get back up after falling out of a simple tree, how could he get back up if he had made a mistake costing so much more?

Legolas watched, almost seeing the thoughts flit across Estel’s face. And then he almost sighed with relief as Estel rolled over and clambered to his feet.

He had meant it, what he had said about it being so hard to climb all the way back up. He had made mistakes, mistakes that had cost him injuries, or other’s injuries or lives. Everyone in Mirkwood had done that at some point or another. An arrow would not fly straight, a plan was not thought through enough, or a sword was not quick enough to stop a blow. They all had done it, but each time it got a little bit harder to climb back up, because each time they were left wondering whether the climb was worth it, and the more they saw, the more they did, the harder it became to believe that it was.

But as Legolas watched Estel clamber to his feet and brush mud from his new coat, he allowed a smile to come across his face. Maybe it was a little easier to get to his feet than he thought.

Estel grinned at him, and glanced back up at the trees. “Are we trying again?” he asked, rolling his shoulders. Legolas felt an easy smile come over his face, and he nodded, jumping up easily into the branches. Estel rolled his eyes, but followed suit.

They made their way back to the place where Estel had fallen before, Legolas moving around so he was opposite Estel on another tree. “Trust your feet,” he said. “Trust in the fact that your body doesn’t want to fall just as much as your mind. Trust me, Estel. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I thought you couldn’t.”

Estel nodded, and without waiting too much for his mind to catch up and paralyse him, his feet left one branch and landed squarely on the other. He overbalanced, and stepped forwards again, catching one of the branches over his head and swinging forwards into yet another tree.

A grin came across his face as he landed in a crouch in the tree. There was a faint rustle and then Legolas landed beside him. Estel grinned over at him. “Again?” he asked.

Legolas returned the smile. “Again.”

0-o-0-o-0

Estel let out a whoop of joy as he jumped down onto another branch and kept leaping through the trees. This was…incredible. He had never done anything like this before.

“Don’t get overconfident,” said a voice from nearby, and Estel saw Legolas out of the corner of his eye. He slowed his pace a little, but kept going, his feet finding their footing, his hands grasping hold of the branches above him as he swung around the trunk of a tree and into another one.

Finally he ran out of breath completely, and slowed down to a stop. He looked down. He hadn’t realised he was this far up the trees.
Legolas landed beside him, the branch barely shuddering under his weight. “I told you it wasn’t impossible,” he said. He was barely out of breath.

Estel leant against the tree trunk and struggled to regain his breath. “I…know that…now,” he said in between gasps. “It’s still…not…exactly…easy.”

Legolas chuckled. “It will take a lot more practice for it to become easy,” he said. “And it does not help that you are comparing yourself to a wood elf. I grew up in a forest, Estel, and am at home in any trees, anywhere. You did well today.”

Estel nodded, and then grimaced as water ran down his neck. The rain hadn’t let up once since they had gone outside, but he hadn’t really noticed it for most of the time. He glanced up at the sky, surprised to see it was only a few hours away from dusk. “How long have we been out here?” he asked Legolas.

Legolas glanced briefly at the sky. “Nearly four hours,” he said. “I didn’t realise we had been out so long.” He turned to look at Estel, taking in the young man’s bedraggled appearance, his soaking wet hair and generally damp appearance. Legolas grinned. “Your brothers better not kill me for letting you get so wet. Mortals fall ill easily, don’t they?”

Estel laughed, and shook his head. He didn’t take any offence from Legolas’ question, knowing the blond elf meant none. “I will not fall ill from one afternoon in the rain,” he said. “You don’t know much about mortals, do you?”

Legolas chuckled and jumped down from the tree, going from branch to branch and then finally reaching the ground. Estel followed, but more slowly, still not quite having all his breath back from the hours he had spent in the trees.

“No, I don’t know much,” said Legolas. “We are in contact with mortals as a necessity in Mirkwood, but it is not a habit. At least, it was not before the battle outside Erebor. I am far less travelled than your brothers. The only places I have been outside of Mirkwood are Dale and the areas around there, and then here. I’ve never even visited Lothlorien.”

“What?” asked Estel. “How is that possible?”

Legolas shrugged. “You have never visited Mirkwood,” he said. “So it may be a little confusing to you. We are a very secluded people. There are very few people allowed into our realm, and we are wary of strangers.”

Estel snorted. “Aye, I have heard the stories about the Dwarves.”

Legolas frowned slightly. “They were trespassing, and we didn’t know why. We probably saved their lives. If they had been left to wander for much longer, something would have killed them, or they would have killed themselves from starvation or lack of water. But we haven’t survived this long by being welcoming to anyone who strays within our borders.”

Legolas sighed. “War breeds wariness, Estel. And my father fought in the Last Alliance, knew all along that the shadow would return. We do not have a safe haven like you have here. And so we keep to ourselves, mainly. I am one of the few in Mirkwood who has been here. None of us have been far enough south to reach Lothlorien. It’s too dangerous, and most of us…prefer to stay away.”

Estel wanted to ask more, but Legolas beat him to it, continuing on as they walked up the path. “What was the way someone once described wood elves, compared to the Noldor here? ‘Less wise, more dangerous’ were the words, I think. And it is true. We have no great libraries in Mirkwood like the ones here. And we are constantly fighting. And I think, after a while, after the Last Alliance, it just became easier to draw away, to become secluded. We have enough to worry about within our own borders. We rarely have the strength to look beyond them as well.”

Estel paused, not really knowing what to say, and Legolas chuckled slightly. “It is not like you to have nothing to say, Estel.”

Estel rolled his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he said sarcastically. “I thought you would appreciate the quiet.”

Legolas grinned. “That is true,” he said. “It was just surprising.”

Estel muttered something under his breath, and jabbed an elbow into Legolas’ side. Legolas merely dodged sideways and stuck his leg out, tripping up Estel. To Estel’s credit, he regained his balance quickly and swiped at Legolas, catching the blond elf’ shoulder with enough force to push him over, if only a little.

Legolas laughed merrily. He did seem to laugh a lot more than his brothers did, seemed to be more willing to find things cheerful than the other elves Estel knew. And it was infectious. Estel felt a grin growing across his face as he tried to trip Legolas up, and his deeper laugh joined with Legolas’ light lilting chuckle.

The game continued until they got inside, and even then Legolas nearly managed to trip Estel going up the stairs. Legolas laughed, and they finally got into Estel’s rooms.

Estel peeled off his new coat and hung it up next to the fire, far enough away so the leather wouldn’t be damaged. “I am soaked,” he muttered, trying to push damp hair out of his eyes and only succeeding in getting mud across his face.

Legolas crossed over to the fireplace and knelt down. In a few moments the fire was roaring merrily, and the room seemed brighter. “At least it wasn’t snowing,” he said with a smile. “It is beautiful, the snow, but it makes everything a lot harder.”

Estel snorted. “Says an elf,” he said. “I sink into snow if I try and walk on it. And I get cold. Elves don’t feel the cold.”

Legolas grimaced as he pulled off his leather vambraces, water dripping from them. “Horses can’t walk on snow,” he pointed out. “It means we cannot take supplies anywhere in the forest if we cannot carry it, and we cannot get anywhere faster than a run. Besides,” he said with a shiver. “Just because I don’t feel the cold, doesn’t mean I don’t like getting wet.”

“But being wet is far worse when you are cold as well,” said Estel pulling his tunic over his head and grabbing a thick towel from outside his bathroom. He started trying to dry his hair. “And you don’t get cold.”

“That’s not exactly true,” said Legolas. “Elves can become cold. It just takes a lot more to do so.”

Estel snorted. “Aye, like the Helcaraxe. Not exactly something you find in your average winter.” He stopped towelling his hair, and dumped the towel onto his bed. Legolas suddenly laughed, and Estel looked over at him. “What?”

Legolas chuckled. “Your hair looks like a bird’s nest,” he said with a grin. “Do you ever brush it?”

“Of course!” said Estel, running his hands through it to try and tame it. “Maybe. Occasionally.”

Legolas grinned. “I thought so.” He picked up another towel, and held it up. “May I?”

“What’s wrong with your own chambers?” asked Estel, but he nodded, and Legolas swung his long blond hair over one shoulder to begin drying it off.

Legolas shrugged. “Your rooms are closer, and I was beginning to get fed up of the water droplets dripping down the back of my neck.” He grimaced as another droplet ran down the side of his cheek and fell onto the floor. “But it doesn’t take the Helcaraxe to make us feel cold. Belhadron, my second in command, once fell through the ice over the Forest River during the Long Winter. It took us nearly four minutes to get him out. I’m pretty sure he felt the cold then.”

Estel chuckled. “Anyone who fell into a frozen river would feel the cold,” he pointed out. He grimaced as he pulled his wet boots off, and put them by the fire, next to where Legolas had put his boots. “Ai Valar, sometimes I hate the rain.” He changed into another pair of boots quickly, his feet still a little damp.

Legolas smiled, and they kept talking until both were changed out of their wet clothes and as dry as they could be right now. Estel paused. “Where are my brothers?”

“I don’t know,” said Legolas, and if his reply was ever so slightly too quick, Estel didn’t notice. “It will be dinner soon. We should head down.”

Estel nodded, and they left his chambers together. Down the stairs Estel stuck out his leg and nearly sent Legolas sprawling down the stairs, saved only by his quick reflexes and the balcony. Estel laughed, and then ran down the stairs before Legolas could repay the favour.

0-o-0-o-0

And so the days passed. Estel fell into bed exhausted most nights, save for the few days where they relaxed and did nothing. Those days Estel mainly slept and ate. Elladan and Elrohir were sometimes around in the morning and evenings, when the four of them ate together, but during the day they were nowhere to be found. He managed to find them once, coming out of the armoury, but they were cagey about where they had been and quickly changed the subject. Elrohir was fully healed now, and only a thin white line stood out on his temple from where the orc’s blade had struck him.

Legolas was around more on these rare days off. For some reason the elf was always up and doing something by the time Estel finally dragged himself out of bed. He would find Legolas shooting arrows at incredibly far away targets, or up into the trees, where he would then go and collect them. Sometimes he would be working with the horses, exercising them, or riding one of the young ones that they always seemed to have.

One morning Estel found him sitting in the low branches of a tree sharpening his knives. As Estel watched Legolas decided his knives were as perfectly honed as he could get them, and switched to fletching arrows, his fingers working deftly to produce the neat feathers on the ends of the shafts, all dyed yellow and green.

When Estel asked him why he was always doing something, Legolas had just shrugged, and said he was used to being active, and could find it strange not having anything to do, no patrols to go out on. He had spent hundred of years being ready at a moment’s notice, and even single days where he had nothing in particular to do were strange to him.

After that, Legolas had showed Estel how to fletch arrows the way he did, and they had spent hours sat, now on the grass in the gardens, fletching arrows, sharpening swords and knives, and with Legolas showing Estel how to whittle wood. As usual, Elladan and Elrohir were not to be found.

And then the next day it was back to training. This day, Legolas sparred Estel, knives against sword. Estel had been using a different sword every time he sparred, a new one being pressed into his hand each day for some reason. But this sword was the first one that had felt most comfortable in his hands so far.

Legolas, with that same cheerful smile on his face, spun his knives in his hands. Estel clenched his hand around his sword. Over the past two weeks that they had been training, he had already grown stronger, the muscles in his arms more defined. He could put more power behind his blows.

Elladan and Elrohir stood nearby. “You are not fighting brutally, this time,” said Elladan, adjusting Estel’s coat across his shoulders. There was a fine drizzle of rain, and it was getting colder. Summer was coming to an end.

Estel nodded. “Aye, I know,” he said. “Does that mean no dirty tricks from the wood elf?”

Elladan and Elrohir both laughed, and Legolas raised one eyebrow. “I wasn’t going to do anything,” he said. “But I might have to now.” Estel chuckled, knowing he was not being serious, and took a step back, adjusting his stance until he was in the right position. Elladan and Elrohir stepped back.

“Begin,” said Elrohir, and Estel lunged forwards, his sword flashing out and striking one of Legolas’ knives. Instantly the blond elf spun and darted forwards, his knives twisting in his hands. Estel took a step back and parried the blow, using the greater strength of his sword to push the knives away.

And the dance continued. Blows and parries, the spinning and slashing of blades all blurred into one intricate dance. Estel took a step forwards and Legolas moved backwards. The blond elf thrust with his knives and Estel blocked the blow, deflecting the blades. He didn’t notice their audience grow by two as they fought.

Estel felt the familiar ache in his arms, the sweat starting to bead upon his brow, and he knew he was in danger of tiring and making a mistake. So far, every sparring match had resulted in his defeat. He didn’t mind it, that much, because he knew how skilled his brothers and Legolas were, but he wanted to keep going for as long as possible this time. And maybe one day, he would beat them, if only by luck.

They kept sparring, moving backwards and forth across the training fields. Estel felt the strain in his arms and legs grow, the muscles tiring and beginning to spasm, and his blows became more desperate, swinging wider and with less force behind them.

Legolas flicked his wrists and sent his knives spinning out, one towards Estel’s stomach, and the other towards his neck. Estel blocked the higher one and twisted away from the blade at his stomach, bringing his sword around towards Legolas’ unprotected side.

It had been his unprotected side, but suddenly Legolas’ knives were, there blocking the bow, and Estel was surprised enough to fall backwards. He stumbled, and Legolas took the advantage and pressed him, his knives flashing, until Estel moved to block a blow that suddenly wasn’t there anymore, and he stumbled again. Legolas moved, and all Estel felt was a blow to his knee before he was falling.

He hit the ground hard, the breath being forced out of him, but Estel managed to keep his senses, and more importantly, keep his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. And as he turned his head to see Legolas’ feet by his head, he shot his arm out and grabbed hold of his ankle, tugging hard enough to bring the blond elf down onto one knee whilst pulling himself up.

He froze when the blunted edge of a knife stopped at his neck. Legolas grinned at him. “You’re improving.”

Estel raised one eyebrow. “You think?” he asked. “Look down.”

Legolas chuckled. “I know,” he said, glancing down at where the edge of Estel’s sword was lying across his stomach. “Stalemate?”

“Aye,” said Estel, removing his sword from Legolas’ stomach. The knife disappeared from his neck, and Legolas got smoothly to his feet, reaching out to offer Estel a hand. Estel grabbed it and pulled himself upwards, wincing at the ache in his legs. They had been sparring for longer than he had realised.

Estel grinned as he swung his sword in his hand, and turned to where Elladan and Elrohir were waiting on the edge of the field.
Only it wasn’t just them anymore.

Estel grinned at his father and Glorfindel as they walked with his brothers across the grass towards them. “I didn’t notice them arrive,” he muttered to Legolas.

Legolas chuckled. “You need to be more observant, Estel. You don’t even wake up until one of us shakes you awake.”

Estel blushed. “I need my sleep!” he protested. He blushed slightly as his voice rose a little too loud, and Elrond raised one eyebrow.
“Well done,” was the first thing Elrond said as they approached. Glorfindel smirked.

“Well done indeed, Estel,” said Glorfindel. “It takes a lot to get a wood elf off their feet.”

Elrond smiled, and adjusted Estel’s new coat that he was again wearing today. “It’s a good fit,” he said, flattening down the deep green leather. “And you can grow into it as well.” He smiled again, pulling the collar of the coat up again. “It looks good on you.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “Leave it alone, Elrond. We know already you chose it well.”

“You picked this?” asked Estel, one hand coming up to finger the collar of the coat.

Elrond smiled. “It was my idea, aye. My brother had a coat just like this.”

Estel nodded. Elrond’s brother, Elros, the first King of the Numenorians. Just like he knew not to bring up Celebrian, Elladan and Elrohir’s mother, he also knew not to speak of Elros with Elrond. Like Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond and his brother had been close.
“You’ve improved,” said Glorfindel, breaking the quiet. “I suppose Legolas has been teaching you all of his tricks?”

Legolas laughed. “I have no tricks, my Lord. It is simply good fighting.” Glorfindel just shook his head and smiled.

Elladan and Elrohir, who had moved around to stand behind Estel at some point without Estel noticing, chuckled, and Estel turned to look at them. Elladan smiled and leant forwards. “Glorfindel has never forgiven Legolas for beating him in a fight once, and insists Legolas won through trickery. To be fair, Legolas, you did jump him from a tree.”

Legolas shrugged. “I was losing, and I resorted to desperate measures.”

Estel laughed at that, and looked over at Legolas with a grin, so he missed the pleased glance that Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged. Elladan and Elrohir saw, but said nothing. Elladan just nodded when Elrond caught his eye, and smiled slightly.

“Are you done for the day?” asked Glorfindel, his fingers resting on the hilt of the sword at his belt. Legolas nodded, and sheathed his two knives in his belt, as he wasn’t wearing his quiver.

“Aye, we are done, my Lord,” he said. “Unless, Estel, you would like to go again?”

Estel chuckled. “No,” he said with a grin. “I would like to get some food, and then sleep until dinner. That’s it. No more training for today.” He picked up the scabbard for the sparring sword and slotted the blade inside, wrapping the belt attached to the scabbard around it. Estel absent-mindedly rubbed his thumb over the old worn leather.

Elrond smiled at his youngest son as he grinned at Legolas and the twins. He was growing up. He was not there yet, but he was learning. And it was vital that he learnt as much as they could all teach him before he fully grew up.

Estel turned to head inside, his mind fully on the chances of lunch. Glorfindel turned to walk with him, and started up conversation about Estel’s preferred weapon of choice. Elrond watched them go.

Elladan stepped forwards. “Adar?” he asked hesitantly. “Adar, should we…?”

Elrond glanced at the three elves, and Legolas frowned slightly as Elrond’s gaze fell on him. “Should you tell him?” Elrond asked, his gaze flickering over to his sons. “Aye, I think you can tell him now.” He turned and began to walk back into the house, without saying anything more.

Legolas frowned. “Tell me what?” he asked. “I am assuming that ‘him’ is me here.” His gaze narrowed. “What haven’t you told me?”

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a slightly anxious glance. Legolas was completely loyal to anyone who he trusted, but sometimes was slow to trust strangers, and the fact that they had been keeping a rather important piece of information from him for the entire time he had been here might affect the friendship that had grown between him and Estel, which Elladan and Elrohir had been watching carefully.

“We will explain it all,” said Elrohir. “And things might make a little more sense. But I think this is a conversation to be had inside.” He chuckled slightly. “And we might need some wine.”

Chapter Text

Elrohir uncorked the bottle of wine and poured out a goblet, handing it over to Legolas. Legolas raised one eyebrow. “Is whatever you are going to tell me that shocking?” he asked dryly.

To Legolas’ surprise, Elrohir nearly laughed nervously, only just covering it with a cough. “Really?” asked Legolas, taking a sip of wine. He sat down on the couch in Elrohir’s room.

Elladan sighed. “What we are about to tell you cannot leave this room. Adar knows, and Glorfindel, and we think Erestor will have worked it out by now, though he would know to keep it a secret. Gilraen, Estel’s mother, obviously knows, but Estel does not know, and you cannot tell him, no matter what.”

Legolas took another sip of wine. “This sounds very dramatic, mellyn-nin.”

“We are being serious,” said Elladan, and both him and Elrohir came to sit on the edge of Elrohir’s bed. “We are telling you this not only because we trust you utterly with this, but also because we know now that you want to protect Estel as much as we do.”

Elrohir sighed. “You have probably guessed that Estel is not Estel’s real name. That name is to keep him safe. You have no idea how much danger Estel could be in if people knew who he was. His real name, and this cannot be repeated outside of this room, is Aragorn.”

“Aragorn,” mused Legolas. “Why is that so dangerous?”

“His father was Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dunedain,” said Elladan. “And Aragorn is his sole son. The Dunedain can trace their lineage back to Elendil.”

Legolas’ eyes slowly grew wide as he realised what this meant. “You mean…?”

Elrohir nodded. “Estel is the sole heir to the throne of Gondor and Arnor. He is the rightful King of those lands.”

Elladan ran a hand over his face. “He may have to step up and accept that fate during his life. That is who we know he could be. Who we have been training him to be for all this time. That is why we have been so protective of him.”

Legolas raised one eyebrow. “And here I was thinking it was because you loved him,” he said dryly. Seeing Elladan and Elrohir’s expressions at that, he raised one hand. “Peace! I meant nothing by it. It is hard not to love him, mellyn-nin.” His expression softened. “He has a good heart. He will grow into a fine man.”

“We hope so,” muttered Elladan. “But even if he accepts his destiny, who he is, it will not be easy to claim his throne. It will only be done if the darkness is overthrown, and we all know how likely that will be. There will be war, before the end.”

Legolas snorted. “You may have missed it, but there is already war, mellyn-nin. We are already fighting. But I know what you mean. Do not worry. Estel, or Aragorn, will be strong enough.”

“I hope so,” said Elrohir with a sigh. He looked at Legolas critically. “You are taking this rather well, I must admit.”

Legolas shrugged. “It makes sense, I suppose. Where else would be better to keep the future King of Men safe than Imladris? Besides, you even look slightly alike. You are distantly related, after all.”

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances. “I hope you forgive us for this next part,” said Elladan slowly. “Because we have not explained everything, and you may not like this second part.”

Legolas’ eyes narrowed, and he took a gulp of wine. “What else is there?” he asked.

Elrohir sighed. “You know in part where we have been in the afternoons for the past two weeks or so,” he said. “But truthfully, we have not just left to accomplish that.” He grimaced, but continued on. “We have purposefully spent most of this time trying to make Estel and you become close friends. We have left you two alone for these afternoons to…try and make sure that you become friends with Estel, that you look out for him. I think even when I was hurt, it was playing on our minds, and we tried a little to make you take Estel’s side in the arguments.”

Legolas leant back. “So you manipulated me,” he said, his voice calm and blank. “Why?”

“We’re sorry, Legolas,” said Elladan. “We really are. But we wanted you to see what Estel is like, how good he can be, so that you grew to be fond of him, if not love him like we do. We want, no, we almost need you to look out for him like we try to.”

“I’ll ask again,” said Legolas. “Why?”

“Because Estel is not just the heir to the throne,” said Elrohir. “He will be the one to step forwards and claim the title, to unite the race of men and stand against the shadow. The end is coming, Legolas. Adar has foreseen it, and we know it as well. The final hours are drawing near, and they will happen within Estel’s lifetime. He must be ready for this, but he cannot do it alone.”

“We have sworn to ourselves that we will stand by him when the end comes,” said Elladan. “Because the end is coming, and it will come soon. It must be Estel who steps forwards. That is his fate. But there is no guarantee that we will even be alive when he becomes who he was born to be. We might be dead by then. And there are few who know Estel like we do, who will step forwards with him.”

Elladan’s voice was heavy when he spoke now. “So that is why we manipulated you, if only a little bit. Truthfully, if you did not like Estel, then there would be no way to make you do so. The fact that you do spend all those afternoons teaching him, without knowing who he is, proves that you are fond of him. But we want to make sure that if we are not there, someone will be there to stand by his side at the end.”

Legolas watched them carefully. “Did your father ask you to do this?” he asked slowly.

Elladan chuckled. “Actually, this was all our own idea,” he said. “But we can tell that Adar was thinking along the same lines, and more.”

“More?” asked Legolas, one eyebrow raised. Elladan and Elrohir nodded.

“He hasn’t actually said this, but from what we have gleaned from hidden conversations with Mithrandir, when he has stopped by, and from a few with Glorfindel, there is more.” Elrohir rubbed his jaw.

“You are important as well, mellon-nin.”

Legolas frowned. “What?”

“What my brother is trying to say,” said Elladan. “Is that we think Adar knows something about the way this is going to end. And we think you will be important. We think you will be there at the end of it all, along with Estel. You cannot stay in Mirkwood for this one, Legolas. When the time is coming, and we will probably know when that is, you must look beyond your borders.”

Legolas ran a hand over his face. “So when the end is coming, I must leave my home, despite knowing how much we will suffer at the end?” he asked. “Elbereth, you cannot ask me to do that. Even though I would willingly stand beside Estel, you cannot ask me for that.”

Elladan sighed. “It is your choice,” he said. “But when it does come down to it, I think you will make the right choices.” He smiled softly. “Your heart has always been bigger than you’ve realised, mellon-nin. And it stretches far beyond Mirkwood’s borders.”

Legolas leant back with a sigh. “You may be right,” he said, taking another sip of wine. “It is certainly a lot to think about, mellyn-nin. But your plan worked. I can see why you love Estel, why he is your brother in everything except blood. And even then he is close.” He sighed again. “I do not even know if I will be alive to stand by your brother. And I do not know if I will be able to, mellyn-nin. But it is not like I have to decide instantly, is it?”

Elrohir shook his head. “We are not asking you to decide,” he said. “We just wanted to tell you what we knew. Believe us, we have wanted to tell you far earlier, but Adar told us not to. We don’t know whether he wanted to wait, to see if what he had foreseen was coming true, or if he forbade us for another reason. We don’t know. But you know we trust you, mellon-nin. We always have.”

“I know,” said Legolas softly. He didn’t promise his friends anything, didn’t swear to be there or protect Estel. Promises could be treacherous things, even if you had every intention of keeping them. It was all too easy for the swing of a sword or the flight of an arrow to cut a promise short.

Legolas sat forwards, on the edge of the couch. “So this is the end, then,” he murmured. “We have come to it at last.”

“We still have sixty or so years, at a guess, until outright war,” said Elrohir. “But aye, it is drawing to a close.”

Legolas chuckled morosely. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified,” he said. “I was starting to think it wasn’t possible for an end to come.”

“I know,” said Elladan softly. “I know.”

Legolas’ gaze was distant as he spoke again. “Do you think we can win?”

“Elbereth,” sighed Elladan. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I hope so.”

Legolas shook his head. “I never thought I would live to see an end, whatever the result is. But there is little chance it will end well for us. The most likely outcome is that we fail, and we are killed. But we have known that for a while now.”

“Aye,” said Elrohir. “We have. And it has not stopped us before. It will not stop us now, Legolas. Not whilst we have a chance, no matter how slim. Estel, if he steps up and becomes who he was born to be, could unite the broken armies of men under one banner and confront Mordor. That on its own would not win, but we do not know…” Elrohir sighed.

Elladan took over, like what happened in most conversations when both the twins were talking about the same thing. “We do not know what will come to pass. It could be than we fail, and we all die. It could be that the most unlikely of chances means we triumph. I don’t think Adar even knows.”

Legolas raised one eyebrow. “Ask Mithrandir,” he said. “If he or your father do not know, and Glorfindel will not hazard a guess, then I doubt anyone will work it out before it comes to pass.”

Elladan and Elrohir both chuckled. It didn’t last long, petering out and fading into the sombre mood in the room. Legolas ran a hand through his hair.

“Elbereth,” he murmured. “Ai Elbereth.”

“We know,” murmured Elladan, gulping down the rest of his wine. “Believe me, we know.”

0-o-0-o-0

The sun filtered through from the balcony, the doors flung wide open. A shape stirred underneath the mound of blankets on the bed that had long since given up any pretence of being neat.

There was no sound, but suddenly a figure was standing in the doorway to the balcony. The morning light glinted off golden hair that was waving slightly in the breeze from outside.

Legolas held back a sigh. He didn’t know how, but the young man, buried somewhere underneath those blankets, had somehow wormed his way into his heart and settled there. He completely understood Elladan and Elrohir’s desire to look out for him, to protect him, because now he felt the same. Now it was even harder to push him, to sweep his legs out from underneath him and make him fall.

And yet they must do so, because Estel was not Estel, not anymore to Legolas. Aragorn. The name was new to his tongue, and yet it did not feel too strange. He didn’t know why. But he knew now that this young man, currently oblivious to his presence, was important. He would be vital in the years to come.

For a long time Legolas had not held out much hope that they would win, in the end. He kept fighting, of course, because hope could be such a treacherous thing, and he remained cheerful, because to do anything else was a way of admitting defeat, and that he would not do.

But now there was Estel. Legolas had not even known that any descendants of Elendil were still alive, anyone who could claim the throne of Gondor and Arnor. He knew of the Dunedain, for they occasionally appeared on the borders of Mirkwood. But he had not known that all this time they had been harbouring the descendants of Isildur. He supposed it was one of the prices they had paid for becoming so secluded.

But Estel… If the end was truly coming, and if it was to come within Estel’s lifetime, then Legolas felt that maybe there was some real hope this time. Not because they suddenly had the might to stand against the shadow, and not because Estel was this flawless mortal, but because Estel was…Estel. He had made mistakes, and he would make many more, but he had a good heart. He tried to do what was right, and, thought Legolas with a wry smile, was fiercely determined to the point of stubbornness.

And Legolas had no idea exactly what Estel would be like when he was grown, when he maybe had to step up and take up the mantle appointed to him, but if there was still even a part of this young man left in that adult, not worn away by whatever horrors Legolas knew he would encounter, then Legolas thought that maybe there would be some hope.

The mound under the blankets stirred, and a smile crept across Legolas’ face as Estel rolled over onto his back. Without even opening his eyes, he groaned.

“If you are here to drag me out so you can throw clay balls at my head to see if I can shoot them down, then I decline.”

Legolas chuckled and stepped into the room. “I thought I would make you hit them down with throwing knives today, not a bow.”

Another groan came from the bed. “Not a chance,” said Estel. “You and my brothers keep forgetting I need more sleep than you. Stop keeping me up so late and stop waking me up so early every single day.”

Legolas laughed. “It is not that early,” he pointed out. “The sun is up.”

Estel rubbed his eyes and glared at the blond elf. “It is summer. The sun rises early in summer. Ergo, it is still early.” He huffed and rolled over. “Go away and let me sleep.” But there was no anger in his voice, only a fond irritated tone that Legolas now recognised well.

Legolas chuckled again. “We will start later. I only have a few more days now, so we have to make good use of the time, but you can sleep in for a little longer.”

Estel rolled back over again. “What?” he asked. “Why?”

“I’m leaving soon,” Legolas reminded Estel. “The escort will have set out from Mirkwood two days ago. In another three days they will be here, and then I will return with them the next day.” He smiled a small smile. “I cannot stay for longer. I must return home.”

Estel gave up on holding his head up and let it fall back to the pillow. “How long does it take to travel to Mirkwood?” he asked.

Legolas paused momentarily. “It takes a day and a half to travel to the edge of Mirkwood on horseback. Another day and a half to get into the mountains. We have to cross the mountains in a single day, and then it takes another to journey here. If we push, we can make the journey in five days. We don’t like being out in the open any longer than we have to.”

Estel groaned, and pushed himself up so he was half sat against the headboard of his bed. “You just won’t let me sleep, will you?”

“You asked,” said Legolas with a smile.

Estel rolled his eyes. “You are the one who came into my room in the first place,” he pointed out. “And you can get out.”

Legolas laughed. And some apprehension over Estel’s real identity, because he would be a fool not to feel slightly nervous, vanished at the sight of the tousled, tired young man slouched in the bed.

He had known many people, many elves over his life, during the long years fighting in Mirkwood. He knew elves that had been hardened by the darkness, becoming unyielding. Some had become bitter, with their slightly hollow expressions from where they had seen too much. Many were almost too merry, too cheerful, trying to compensate for the darkness of their home.

But Legolas had never seen much innocence. What there was in Mirkwood was quickly lost. It was almost strange to see it in Estel, when Legolas knew just what things he might encounter in the future. But it made him hopeful.

Estel shifted so he was lying flat again, and rolled over, cocooning himself in his blankets. Legolas turned to leave the same way he had gotten into Estel’s room, heading for the balcony. He heard a soft snort from the bed.

Estel rolled over so he could see him. “Next time you want to wake me up,” he said with a yawn. “By all means, use my door.”

Legolas chuckled, and vaulted lightly over the balcony.

0-o-0-o-0

The next three days passed in, if not a blur, then a tired haze, mainly consisting of training, eating and sleeping for Estel. It now seemed that, with Legolas’ immanent departure, they were trying to fit in everything that the wood elf could teach Estel, that Elladan and Elrohir were unable, or in some cases not willing, to do so.

Estel had spent the previous day trying to balance on increasingly difficult objects, including a stack of logs that were drying out, and meant to be neatly stacked until he slipped on one and the entire stack collapsed. He had spent the rest of the day stacking the logs again with Legolas. Again, Elladan and Elrohir were nowhere to be seen.

Occasionally as they had worked, Estel had seen Legolas pause and watch him, if only for a brief moment, out of the corner of his eye. Estel had no idea why, as every time he turned his head Legolas’ gaze had already moved on, but he only picked up on it a few times, and it soon slipped his mind afterwards.

The day the escort was due to arrive; Elladan and Elrohir spent the morning helping Legolas pack, which meant that they sat there talking whilst Legolas packed. Estel didn’t stay around much that morning, guessing that his brothers and Legolas would prefer to be left alone, if only for the morning. Judging from the slightly more sombre mood, neither his brothers nor Legolas really liked goodbyes. Estel guessed that goodbyes might be a little more for those three. After all, they only saw each other every few decades, and had no idea whether they would still be alive to see each other next time.

Estel had seen the brief moment of fear in Elladan and Elrohir’s eyes when they had heard a message had come from Mirkwood.
Estel spent the morning attempting to remember what he had been taught and whittle wood. Even with the reminder of what Legolas, and later on his brothers, had taught him, it only took an hour or so before the piece of wood became useless. Estel gave up on whittling, and settled down with a book, lying on his stomach in the garden.

The sound of beating hooves cut through his concentration on the fine print, and Estel sat up, closing the book. The sound abruptly changed to the clattering of hooves on the courtyard, and Estel clambered to his feet, suddenly remembering that the elves from Mirkwood would be arriving today, and that this would probably be them.

Grabbing hold of the book, he jogged back to the house, slipping through the hedge of the garden and ending up in the courtyard. The normally quiet space was filled with about ten horses and elves, some wearing the muted green and browns of Mirkwood, and some Imladris guards. Estel slowed, and stepped onto the courtyard.

One of the Mirkwood elves, who Estel seemed to remember as the one in command when they had arrived with Legolas, noticed Estel and bowed low to him. Estel wondered whether he actually knew who he was.

Nevertheless, Estel knew his manners. He bowed back. “Mae govannen,” he said in welcome. The courtyard was slowly emptying, Imladris guards showing Mirkwood elves and their horses to the stables.

Estel glanced around. “Legolas should be around here somewhere,” he said, looking back at the Mirkwood elf in front of him. He looked sharp, for lack of a better word, and even here in Imladris his gaze was constantly moving, picking out the paths leading out of the courtyard. A long sword was at his waist, a knife there as well, and a bow over the quiver on his back. Estel suspected that they weren’t the only weapons this elf carried.

He felt like he should say something else, but then the doors at the top of the steps to the courtyard opened and Estel caught a flash of blond hair. Legolas hurried down the steps and reached the Mirkwood elf, a smile on his face.

“Mellon-nin,” he said with a smile. “How are you?”

The elf smiled and grasped Legolas’ outstretched arm. “I am well,” he replied. “Belhadron has been complaining, as usual, but despite what he says, he is well too.”

Legolas chuckled. “If he hasn’t yet threatened to shoot me when we get back, then I am still safe.” He looked up as the doors swung open again and Elladan and Elrohir came down the steps.

“Mae govannen,” said Elladan bowing to the Mirkwood elf. “Welcome to Imladris.”

“My thanks for your hospitality,” said the elf. “The others are seeing to their horses. Legolas, we can ready your stallion’s packs now, if you want us to. It will save time in the morning.”

Legolas grimaced, and the image of Legolas’ stallion, trapped in a snare and legs broken, came unbidden to Estel’s mind. The Mirkwood elf- whose name Estel still didn’t know- frowned in confusion. “Legolas?” he asked.

“There are things to tell,” said Legolas with a slightly embarrassed smile. The elf rolled his eyes.

“Ai Valar, Legolas,” said the elf with a smile. “As you are standing in front of me, it cannot have been too bad. But you will be the one explaining it to Belhadron, mellon-nin.” Legolas chuckled, and the two moved slightly away to talk.

Estel felt a tug at his arm, and turned to see Elrohir gently pulling him in the opposite direction. “Leave them to talk,” said Elladan, who was turning to head up the stairs. “Legolas will want to find out any news on Mirkwood. We won’t see him for a little while.”

Estel nodded, and headed inside with his brothers, idly tossing the book in his hand until he dropped it and earned an amused look from Elladan and Elrohir. He sighed, heading into his own room and letting himself fall onto the bed. Legolas was leaving tomorrow morning, and at least Estel wouldn’t have to try and get from one end of the woods to the other without his feet touching the ground.

And apparently, the fact that his feet weren’t touching the ground because he was wearing boots wasn’t a good enough excuse.
Still, Legolas was a different presence in a house of seemingly ancient elves, and even after everything that happened and Estel’s ‘deal’, was one of the only people Estel had met who had seemed to treat him like a friend, rather than a little brother. Besides, he liked the blond elf. He was surprisingly cheerful for someone who had seen probably more than he ever would. It wasn’t like he would see proper war or anything like that.

Estel groaned into his bedspread, and then levered himself up. He winced at the ache in his muscles. Maybe he would be a little less tired once a certain blond elf stopped waking him up far too early every morning.

Then again, he supposed that his brothers would take great delight in waking him up and devising new tortures for him to attempt. Apparently his brothers called them training exercises, but Estel was pretty sure that was a lie.

Estel spent the rest of the afternoon, after sneaking a quick lunch from the kitchens. Sometimes a good book was enough to make the time rush by. Before Estel knew it, it was the evening and he had, as he had done before, spent the entire afternoon lying on his bed reading, and he had to get ready for supper.

Given it was Legolas’ last night in Imladris, the supper was slightly larger than normal, going on late into the night. Before Estel knew it, the four of them had moved out onto the balcony from the Hall of Fire, much like the first night Legolas had been here. Behind them Estel could hear soft singing, the songs that he knew so well by know.

Elladan hummed one of the tunes under his breath as he leant against the wall. Legolas, again like the first night, had vaulted up onto the balcony, wine goblet in hand, and stood there, looking out over the gardens.

Estel leant on the balcony. “How is Mirkwood?” he asked. Legolas had not been present until the dinner, probably talking to the elves of his escort, and during the supper he had been occupied, talking to Elladan and Elrohir, and then thanking Elrond for allowing him to stay.

Legolas shrugged. “About the same,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “There has been one attack by the orcs, on the southern patrol, but there were only a few injuries and no fatalities.” He chuckled. “And Belhadron has only threatened to shoot someone else once or twice, so that is good.”

Elladan and Elrohir both smiled at that, Elrohir coming to lean on the balcony on the other side of Legolas. “What time are we leaving in the morning?” he asked.

Estel paused. “Wait, what do you mean ‘we’?” he asked. “Are you travelling to Mirkwood?”

Elladan shook his head. “Only out to the entrance to the High Pass. We are meeting the Rangers there and riding out for a week or so with them. We will meet up with your mother and then head back here.”

“Oh,” said Estel, a little disappointed. Although he knew that he would not have been able to go, not experienced enough yet for his brothers to travel out with him as far as they normally went, especially as it was becoming more dangerous in the wilds, a small part of him still resented it a little. Things were not yet perfect.

Yet they were pretty good, mused Estel. His brothers were trying hard to stop protecting him as much, and they were teaching him so much more than they had used to. Things were good.

“We are leaving at dawn,” said Legolas. “We want to be at the entrance to the high pass well before nightfall, so we can set up camp before dark. Apparently there were signs of orc activity over the pass. Old activity, but it pays to be careful.” He sighed. “I have missed Mirkwood.”

“You have?” asked Estel. He thought Mirkwood was dark and dangerous, full of spiders and orcs. At least, that is what the stories his brothers had told him had painted it as.

Legolas shrugged. “If I didn’t miss it, it wouldn’t be my home,” he said simply.

“So you won’t see us in the morning, Estel,” said Elrohir. “Which is why we should probably do this now. Elladan?”

Elladan nodded and seemingly melted into the shadows, disappearing from Estel’s sight. Legolas jumped down from the balcony, his feet hardly making a sound as he landed, and took a sip of the wine that had remained in his cup.

“What’s happening?” asked Estel, looking around from the slightly smug smile on Elrohir’s face to the spot where Elladan had vanished. “What are you doing?”

“Wait and see,” was all that Elrohir said, and Estel sighed, leaning on the balcony, drumming his fingers on the stone with the slightest hint of nerves.

Elladan was back quicker than he had expected, and in his hand was a long wrapped package. “Here,” he said, holding it out to Estel. “It’s yours.”

Legolas and Elrohir came to stand on either side of Elladan with almost nervous faces as Estel took the object. It was long and thin, wrapped in a thick cloth, but as Estel reached for the top he felt the familiar feel of a sword handle, even under the cloth.

He unwrapped it quickly, the cloth falling to the floor, forgotten, as it revealed what was inside. A long sword, sheathed in a dark leather scabbard, sat in his hands. It was a little too dark to see, but Estel could feel a design etched into the leather of the scabbard, something that felt like a pattern of vines entwining the scabbard.

Estel looked up. “This is for me?” he asked.

“Aye,” said Elladan with a smile. “It is about time you had your own proper sword, rather than borrowing ones out of the armoury. We have been working with the smiths for the past two weeks or so, getting this sword right.”

“That is one of the reasons we have been throwing every type of sword we have at you, to see which one suits you best. This sword is a combination of the ones you preferred. Hopefully it should be just right.”

Legolas looked on expectantly. “Unsheathe it,” he said with a smile. “Let us see if we were right.”

Estel glanced at the pommel of the sword. It was plainer than the adorned handles of Legolas’ knives or his brothers’ swords, black leather wrapped around a steel pommel, but was well made, and soft to his touch. He wrapped his hand around the pommel, and in one smooth pull, unsheathed the sword.

The steel shone in the light from inside as Estel turned it over, looking at it in slight disbelief. It was far better made than any other sword he had used, even the one he had taken to fight when he had gone after his brothers and Legolas. The steel was honed to a keen edge. There was no adornment or embellishment, either on the blade or the pommel, but still it was elegant, the blade straight and thinning to a sharp point.

Estel raised it and swung it experimentally, the blade whistling through the air. “It’s perfect,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “It really is.” It balanced near perfectly in his hand, far better than any other sword he had used before.

“We made the blade longer than ours, and the grip can be one or two hands,” said Elladan. “It means you have a longer reach with it, and don’t need to move as fast as we might in order to strike. You can also put more power behind your blows, and with the straightness of the blade, that means you can probably kill an orc with one thrust.”

Estel nodded, looking down the length of the blade once more and finding no imperfections, no change in the sleek edge that tapered to a point. “Does it have a name?” he asked.

His brothers shook their heads. “Weapons are often named for their glory in battle,” said Elladan. “Most swords are often not named. It does not need a name to do its job.” After all, a sword does not care what it is called- it cannot, and a name does not affect the keenness of the edge, or the power in the thrust. A sword is just a sword, name or no.

Besides, this sword would not need a name, not where it would end up, on Estel’s hip as he left Imladris and journeyed the wilds. There, a name would be more dangerous than useful, and the anonymity would suit the wielder of the blade, sometimes Estel, or Strider, or for a few years Thorongil. The blade would never really be by Aragorn’s side. And both Elladan and Elrohir knew that another sword would eventually take the place of this one when the Ranger was put aside.

Estel lifted the sword, the blade reflecting the firelight from inside the Hall of Fire. “Hannon le,” he murmured. “Seriously, thank you.” He didn’t think he needed to tell his brothers, or Legolas, for that matter, how much this gift meant. Almost reluctantly, he sheathed the blade, the sheen from the steel disappearing into the dark scabbard.

“Take care of it,” said Legolas. “It is yours now.” Estel nodded in agreement. He would look after it, because if he continued down this path, then it would hopefully save his life more than once. He grasped it tightly, feeling the new leather of the scabbard under his fingers.

Little did he know that the leather would eventually become worn and soft, the etchings vanishing eventually as the leather thinned. More than often, the scabbard and blade would end up covered with blood. Sometimes mud would drip from the blade, sometimes water from the torrential rain falling from overhead. Many nights would be spent with his hand wrapped securely around the leather of the scabbard, offering some form of comfort in the immediate protection that the blade offered.

But through it all, Legolas and his brothers’ words would stay in his head, and the blade of the sword would stay sharp and honed, the pommel clean, the scabbard cleaned of the mud and blood and occasionally oiled to keep the leather soft, if Estel ever ended up in a place where there was anything like that. And then Estel would understand the need to look after your weapon, because sometimes it isn’t just the only thing keeping you alive, but one of the few things giving you hope. If the sword was in his hand, it would mean that he could fight.

But all of that was yet to come, far in the future, and right now Estel could not even glimpse what it was, what was going to come. And it might have been fortunate that he had not, that he did not know of the end until it came, not fully, because when it came it was terrifying enough. Sometimes it is better to not guess at the future, to not turn every decision into a turn in the path that you cannot go back on. The path you tread is already under your feet, but sometimes it is better to ignore it.

Estel sighed, looking up at the sky. It was past midnight already, and he was tired. He swallowed the dregs of his wine, one hand still holding onto his new sword. “It is late,” he said, stifling a yawn.

Elrohir glanced at him. “Go to sleep, Estel,” he said kindly. “I’d wager you will try out your sword tomorrow, and you don’t want to be too tired to see straight. We will be gone by the time you are awake, so be good, little brother.”

Estel grinned. “You too, brothers. If you are going to tell my mother what happened, please tell her a few days out of Imladris. Then she will shout at you rather than me.”

Both Elladan and Elrohir chuckled, and Estel did for a little bit, before sobering again. “Just…make sure you tell her I am alright, will you?” he asked. “I don’t want her to worry.”

“We will, little brother,” said Elladan. And we will take care. We are only going to be gone for about a week.”

Estel nodded, not able to fully rid himself of the worry that he felt every time his brothers rode out. He turned to Legolas.

Legolas smiled. “Take care, Estel,” he said.

“You too,” said Estel. “Thank you…for everything, I guess. Uh…” He didn’t really know what to say to Legolas. He owed him a lot, he guessed. He wanted to say so, say thank you for Legolas saving his life and fighting on his side in the arguments with his brothers, and teaching him how to fight and everything else, but had absolutely no idea how to say that.

Legolas cut into his thoughts. “Look after yourself, Estel,” he said. “I don’t know when we will meet again, but it has been my pleasure to know you.”

“Likewise,” said Estel with a grin. “Though next time we meet, I would prefer it if you didn’t wake me up so early every morning.”

Legolas laughed. “Next time we meet, you will most likely be a grown man and will not be as easy to persuade.” He dropped one hand on Estel’s shoulder. “You will make a fine man, Estel. Do not forget that your family are proud of you. As am I.”

Estel blushed, and tried to work out what to say. Legolas chuckled. “Good night, mellon-nin,” he said. Estel, feeling the blush fade from his cheeks, smiled.

“Good night,” he said, and slipped away through the doors. He headed back to his rooms, his sword clutched in his hand. He could feel the etchings on the scabbard underneath his palm, and he smiled.

The fire had gone out by the time he reached his rooms, and he let it be, lighting a few candles for light as he changed into a loose tunic to sleep in. The sword he placed almost reverently at the end of the bed, where it would be clearly visible when he woke up. He had a feeling that he would have to look at it in the morning, to check that it was actually real.

With a sigh, Estel fell into bed and pulled the covers up over him. It had certainly been an interesting month or so, but his thoughts were too jumbled and hazy for him to make sense of them, work out why exactly he was grinning into his pillow at the memories of sparring with Legolas, and his leather coat being given to him, and even the random conversations the four of them occasionally had over lunches.

Estel relaxed on the bed, his thoughts growing hazier as he succumbed to his exhaustion. He could not say that he had enjoyed all of the past month. But on the whole, he was glad.

Chapter Text

The mist was rolling off the foothills of the mountains when the small company awoke. It was only just dawn, just light enough to see by, but already the elves were ready to move out. The fire that had burnt through the night was cold ashes, and apart from that, the only sign that the elves had been there at all was the patches of ground where there was no dew where the elves had slept, wrapped in their cloaks.
The horses were standing quietly in the mist, the occasional snort the only thing heard from them. Elves, mere shadows in the rolling fog coming off the mountains moved around the horses, quietly preparing them for the travel over the mountain.

Three shadows stood a little way off, the indistinct shapes of three horses behind them. The mist was thick enough to obscure most features, but the blond hair of one elf stood out from the darker shapes.

Legolas smiled softly. “This is where we part,” he said, his voice strangely quietened by the rolling mist. “My thanks, mellyn-nin.”

Elladan chuckled softly. “For drawing you into yet more trouble?” he asked. He smiled. “But I am glad we saw you again, Legolas. It had been too long.”

“Aye,” agreed Elrohir. “Take care of yourself, will you? We aren’t going to be around to spot when you are hurt. After all the orcs are dead and the battles fought, you do sometimes need someone to catch you when you collapse.”

Legolas smiled. “I know,” he said. “But Belhadron will be there when I return, and he has had plenty of practice. I will be alright. Take care, both of you. Don’t take on too many orcs at once.”

Elladan and Elrohir both chuckled. “We will try,” said Elladan. “After all, we have a little brother to train, to teach him as much as we can. It won’t be long before Estel is told of his heritage now, and then I doubt we will be able to keep him in Imladris.” Elladan smiled. “He has always been stubborn.”

“He learnt that from you,” said Legolas with a chuckle. “But truthfully, I am glad I have met him, and not just because of who he was born to be. He is- will be a good man, and if I can, if I could, I would like to stand by him, as a friend, when the storm comes.”

“Aye, it is coming,” said Elrohir. “And there will be war before the end.” He grinned. “Hopefully we will see each other on the other side.”

Legolas chuckled. “I’m not holding out any hope,” he said. “But at least an end is coming, even if we will not be there to see it. And who knows what will happen?” He shrugged, a small smile spreading across his face. “If anyone could do what it takes, I feel Estel might be able to.” And Legolas actually believed it this time. There was something buried in Estel, something Legolas suspected the young man had no idea was there, but whatever it was, it gave him hope.

Legolas glanced back at where the rest of the company were waiting, already mounted. “I should go,” he said. “I must return home.”
“Tell Belhadron we send our greetings,” said Elladan. “And take care, Legolas. Storm clouds are gathering, and it may be a while before we are free to come to Mirkwood again.”

Legolas smiled, and first Elladan, and then Elrohir pulled him into a brief embrace. No promises were made, no swearing on their safety or seeing each other again, because they had been playing this game for far too long to promise anything like that again. But each made some sort of promise to themselves, to try and see this through to the other side, no matter how dark that other side might look at times.
“Until we meet again, then,” said Elladan as Legolas stepped over to his horse, and they mounted theirs. Legolas smiled, and turned his horse back towards the other elves.

“Until we meet again,” he echoed. The twins kept their horses still as Legolas rode off, reaching the head of the escort as they turned to ride into the mountains. The last they saw was Legolas’ raised hand in farewell, before the mist swallowed them up.

Elladan and Elrohir both sighed slightly, and then as one they turned their horses around. Without looking back, they rode on into the gathering clouds of the day.

0-o-0-o-0

By the time Estel woke up in the morning Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas and the Mirkwood elves had been gone for a few hours, well on their way out of the valley and heading to the high pass. Estel woke, and padded out to the balcony in a tunic and leggings, his bare feet cold against the stone.

He jumped slightly upon seeing the arrow sticking out of the small wooden table to one side of the balcony, and recognised the fletching as one of Legolas’ arrows. It was holding down a piece of paper, and Estel wrestled the arrow from the wood to read the quick, slanted writing.

To Estel,

Though I said you should visit if you are ever near our borders, you know that we are wary of strangers in Mirkwood. You are welcome inside our borders, but if you meet a patrol, they may not take kindly to you. If that is the case, tell them you know where my second Belhadron and I were on midsummer’s eve in the middle of the Watchful Peace. I doubt that you will forget that story, and every warrior in Mirkwood knows it. That should convince them that you know me, and they will let you through. No matter what name you are using at that time, tell them the name of Estel. It will be known amongst some of the warriors by then.

I told you one time that war breeds wariness. Estel, I hope that you never have to see things like I have seen, but I know that these things will come to pass. You must be careful, but do not let what you see turn you away from doing what you think is right. Do not let whatever life you lead harden you and turn you bitter. I promise you, that no matter how bleak things may come to look, if you keep your heart, there is hope.

I hope to see you again, though I do not know when. It will probably not be for many years, and you will be a grown man when we next meet. The world will grow far darker before it reaches an end, but no matter what happens, try not to give in. And remember- you will be afraid, but it will never make you a coward unless you let it. And Estel, I know you will not.

Until we meet again, mellon-nin.

Legolas.

Estel smiled a little, a soft smile curving his lips, as he finished reading. He thought that he realised it now, what he had not seen before. There was no invisible line, no point that he would pass to suddenly become a man. And he doubted now whether he would ever stop growing up. After all, a remnant of our childish selves always seems to remain within us, no matter how deep it is buried.

He knew that what might come to pass in his future might well be terrifying, might well be dark and dangerous and possibly deadly. And it would scare him. He knew that he would come to feel fear many, many times in the life ahead of him. But it was alright. He would not let the fear crush his heart. He would try, though he made no promises, not to give in.

Estel shook his head slightly, dispelling the thoughts. Carefully he placed the letter down on his bed, and then his gaze drifted to his sword. His smile grew larger, and he stretched out a hand. The pommel fitted securely in his grasp.

Chapter Text

72 years later

Aragorn looked over at his friend, leant on the balcony high up above Minas Tirith. Below him, work was already starting on the ruined buildings within the city walls. There was almost constant travel in and out of the city, people heading out mainly to Osgiliath, beyond through Ithilien and onto the Morannon. Three days after returning to the city, three days after being crowned, and they were still bringing back bodies from the battlefield.

Yet it was slowly, ever so slowly, getting better. The Pelennor was gradually clearing, the main paths heading out across the fields now clear enough for travel. The dead were starting to be buried. The wounded were being looked after. It was over.

“It’s going to take a long time to fix all of this,” said Aragorn softly.

Legolas looked over at him. “We will do it,” he said. “The hardest part is over.”

“Are you sure?” asked Aragorn. “There is so much that has to be done. So much that needs rebuilding. And I am in charge now.” He chuckled morosely. “I have spent so many years in the wild, hardly using my own name. I spent years upon years running from exactly this, even if I didn’t know it at the time.”

He was going to say more, but Legolas snorted in amusement, and Aragorn broke off to shoot him a confused look. “What?” he asked.
Legolas chuckled. “You sound so morose,” he said with a smile. “And you are wrong, by the way. You weren’t ever running. Some people just take a more roundabout way of getting to where they are meant to be.”

Aragorn snorted. “You know Gandalf was completely right about going to the elves for advice. You are annoyingly cryptic, and I have Elrond for a father.” He chuckled again, and draped one arm over Legolas’ shoulder. The blond elf leaned into him slightly.

“Well, I’ve given some good advice over the years,” Legolas said with a light smile. “I mean, it is all down to me that you got here.”

It was Aragorn’s turn to snort. “So Gandalf, my father and brothers have absolutely nothing to do with it?” he asked, nudging Legolas in the ribs. “Not to mention a huge amount of luck.”

Legolas laughed. “An enormous amount of luck for all of us,” he said. “And I was only joking. With or without me, you would still be here.”

Aragorn shook his head. “No,” he said fiercely. “You have saved my life before, and I am sure I would be a different person if you and I had never met.” He smiled softly at the memory of balancing on branches in the pouring rain, of riding through Imladris, of sitting in front of a roaring fire in Legolas’ rooms in Mirkwood, many years later, when he was a Ranger. He saw a similar smile on Legolas’ face, and knew that he was thinking along the same lines.

“Besides,” he said, coming back to the present. “I would much rather prefer a world with you standing on this balcony than a world with you buried beneath the leaves of Mirkwood.”

Legolas’ smile dimmed. “It came close,” he murmured. “It came very close at times.” And it had. There had been too many times to count, over his long life, in which he had come far too close for his, or his father’s, or Belhadron’s liking to giving up the battle. Mirkwood had been at war for hundreds, if not thousands of years. It had been inevitable.

But now…Now it was not. Now they were actually safe. It was weird. It was strange, thinking forwards and not having to forcefully push the thoughts of who would be dead in the next year out of his mind.

Aragorn sighed. “Are you also having trouble believing it is over?” he asked softly.

“You know I am,” replied Legolas. And he definitely was. It felt like one really strange dream, this entire journey, since arriving in Imladris and seeing one small hobbit place a golden ring in front of them. And he was almost scared that it wasn’t real, that soon he would pinch himself, just to check, and wake up.

If that happened, he didn’t think he would be able to cope with it. Hope could be a treacherous thing.

He said as much to Aragorn and the man chuckled, shaking his head. “See, this is exactly what I mean when I say elves are too cryptic. I understand you, because I grew up with Elrond, Glorfindel and my brothers. But you will have to speak more plainly if you are going to spend more time around men. I’m pretty sure you can sometimes throw Gimli off track as well.”

Legolas smiled softly. “It wasn’t that cryptic,” he said. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” said Aragorn. “And I know, I really do know how hard it is, especially for you, to see that this is real. I have been fighting, really fighting, for about seventy years, ever since you and my brothers gave me that sword. You have been fighting for centuries.”

“And the coat,” said Legolas. “I know you haven’t forgotten the coat. You were wearing it for our entire journey, even if it was so stained that it took me a few moments to recognise it.” But he had recognised it pretty quickly, and felt surprisingly pleased at seeing the old coat, obviously well cared for if it had survived all those years. Elladan and Elrohir had told him that Arwen hated it, and sometimes schemed to get rid of it, but they had always stopped her before she had done anything. Aragorn knew, and had laughed, apparently, when his brothers had told him.

According to the twins, it was now Legolas’ job to make sure Arwen didn’t get rid of the coat, now they were in Minas Tirith. Apparently Elladan and Elrohir were assuming that he wouldn’t be spending a huge amount of time in Mirkwood anymore.

They may have been right, though. Legolas did not know what it would be like to go home, but he already felt guilty. He knew, even though there had been no word yet from Mirkwood, that there had been vicious fighting in the forests. He didn’t know who was dead, though he was certain his father was alright, and nearly sure Belhadron was as well. But he wasn’t sure if he would be able to stay, not when so much had happened.

But those were decisions for another time, and he was jolted back to the present by Aragorn speaking again.

“I know hope can be treacherous,” said Aragorn with a sigh. “I really do. And I know this is really hard. But did you know I still remember you writing, in that letter you left me all those years ago, that if you kept your heart, there would be hope. And I certainly tried to do that to the best of my ability over the years. It’s your turn now. I promise you, this is true. We won.”

Legolas smiled softly, and leant into Aragorn a little. “I know,” he murmured.

“It doesn’t mean that I am not terrified, though,” said Aragorn with a grin. “Elbereth, I have no idea what I am meant to do. I have absolutely no idea what it going to happen next. To be honest, I am just glad that whatever is happening next, we are still all going to be here after it.”

“And I don’t have to constantly worry over what could kill you next,” said Legolas with a grin. “I am glad I followed you, Aragorn. And no, I didn’t follow the King, or the Ranger Strider, or even the shadow of what you could be. I know you think that sometimes, but I followed you, Aragorn, and it is you who is leaning on this balcony now. Not anyone else.”

Aragorn chuckled. “At least that wasn’t too cryptic,” he muttered. He looked over at Legolas. “I am glad you followed me,” he said. “I am glad you are here. But honestly, I sort of guessed that you would. I knew even back when I was a foolish child that your heart would prove to be too big for Mirkwood’s borders.”

Legolas smiled. “That is what your brothers said,” he murmured. He looked over at Aragorn. “You are allowed to be afraid, mellon-nin,” he said, noticing the signs in his friend of the looming fear hanging over most of them at this time. “Even a King is allowed to be afraid.”

Aragorn snorted. “Because your father acts like he feels fear,” he said dryly. Legolas laughed.

“True,” he conceded. “Very true. But you know what I mean.”

“Aye,” said Aragorn. “I do.” He looked over at Legolas. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

“You should know by now, you don’t have to say that,” said Legolas with a smile. “But if you are, I should be thanking you as well. You were aptly named, Estel. It is not just men you inspire hope in.”

Aragorn smiled softly. For a few moments they were silent, savouring the relative peace of the early morning. Legolas sighed, and then straightened from the balcony.

“There are things to do,” he said. “We should go.”

“Aye,” said Aragorn, stepping away from the stone balustrade. “There is a kingdom to rebuild.” He chuckled slightly. “And of course that doesn’t sound terrifying.”

Legolas laughed lightly as they headed back inside. “It doesn’t sound terrifying at all.”