They had saddled up and moved out at first light, and now, the royal caravan maintained a steady trot through the foothills of Caradhras, which loomed before them ominously, tempering the otherwise jolly disposition of the troops.

The temperature was plummeting and by the evening, it was freezing cold. Their joy was silenced, turning now to a higher level of diligence as the sounds of nature became muted, and an unhealthy silence filled the air around them, as if they teetered on the border of some unknown danger.

The land was rocky, yet still graced with the presence of a few, spindly trees, their leaves already lost to the wind. To Legolas, the land seemed strange; the trees felt different, the terrain a little too open, yet in spite of this he felt claustrophobic almost, for the grey, jagged peaks jutted towards the skies and closed in their horizon. It was paradoxical, and he liked it not.

To the veteran warriors, this would be a familiar sight, for they would have passed this way before, but for him it was all new, simple village boy that he was, woefully inexperienced when it came to travelling. Amareth had never taken him anywhere, and now that he knew of his heritage, it all made perfect sense. She had been protecting him, perhaps, shielding him from the truth of his begetting. Funny, he mused, but he was not quite sure how he felt about that. There was a nagging irritation at the back of his mind, one that told him she was wrong to have kept the truth from him, wrong to have left him wondering if his parents had been outlaws, oath breakers or something worse. Had she not realised that her subterfuge had been obvious to him? That he had always known she hid something transcendental from him?

Idhrenohtar was looking at him again and so he met his friend's gaze and nodded - he was well, all he needed was some time to sort out the storm inside his head.

And then the thought of his mother - Lassiel - a Silvan lass from a humble family who had fallen in love with the king, no less. How that had come about he could not fathom, but he could well guess she would not have been deemed an appropriate match for Oropher's son. Was that what had happened? he mused. Had they been forbidden to see one another? And if that was so, why had they conceived a child, knowing they could never be together? That the child would not grow with both his parents to nurture him? It was unheard of, for conception was not a thing of luck but a purposeful act in Elven society.

And what of the king's children - his legitimate children, he corrected himself. Prince Handir knew, he was sure of it, for there could be no confusing the expression upon his face just yesterday in the royal tent, before his own world had been utterly changed. But what of the Crown Prince - Rinion, and the princess Maeneth? Did they know? Would they blame Legolas for their father's indiscretion? Well, he would never know, he realised, for they would not welcome a bastard into their noble house, and even if they did, would Legolas even want that?

He shook his head to stop the incessant rumination of his mind, the movement enough to draw Ram en' Ondo's attention, and from somewhere deep inside, Legolas mustered a soft smile, one that widened when he saw the reaction it gleaned from his friend. He had frightened them, unnerved them in so many ways in the last day; he owed it to them to pull himself together, to weather the tide one day at a time, as Idhrenohtar had told him that very morning.

But inside this whirling vortex of questions and emotions, there was one thing that was clear in his mind. He would not be ashamed; he would not lower his head and he would not be mocked. He was who he was by none of his own doing. He was Legolas of the Woodland Realm, a warrior and master archer. He was a good elf and loyal servant of his king and those things he would be proud of.

New strength surged through his veins and he breathed deeply as he sat straighter in the saddle, casting his now bright eyes around him, as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. A discreet smile curved his lips and a soft breeze lifted his white blond locks. It was a new day, a new life, and although he would remember his childhood with affection, it suddenly seemed to him now, that those days were far, far away, drifting like snow upon an early winter wind.

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

Twilight lent a grey-blue tinge to the cloudless sky and their breath frosted upon the air. Warriors, commanders and lords had wrapped their cloaks tightly around themselves, their hoods shielding them from the biting wind. Their hearths were bigger than they had been yesterday, the warriors sitting closer to the comforting flames as their pots boiled water, broth and tea. At the centre of their camp lay two tents, one bigger than the other, where Prince Handir would be, together with Lainion. The other would be for their commanding officer, Lord Celegon, for as far as Legolas could see, the imposing Sinda left all things of command to his faithful lieutenant, Galadan, also of Sindarin heritage, as were most of the Greenwood's commanders.

Lindo, Ram en' and Idhreno sat talking quietly of the things they had seen upon the road, but Legolas could tell their heart was not in it.

"Pass me some tea, Idhreno," he said simply, and their hushed conversation stopped, giving way to a pregnant silence.

"Do not fret," he said again, before drinking once more.

"Legolas, 'do not fret', after what happened yesterday is - optimistic of you. You cannot ask it of us," said Idhrenohtar, his expression indignant.

"I can. I do. I am alright. Admittedly I am shocked and unnerved, and there are so many questions I cannot answer it frustrates me. That and my terror of this new - development that affects my eyes, oh and did I mention I am nervous beyond belief at the prospect of being recognised by the Noldor?" he added ironically, "But I am alright, I can deal with it."

"Legolas," began Ram en' Ondo carefully, "you have a reputation for convincing yourself nothing is wrong when it is - you cannot blame us for doubting your word on this one thing."

It was a bold statement, and Legolas held his friend's gaze for a moment, feelings of rebellion swiftly being replaced by acceptance, for Ram en' Ondo was right. He had deceived himself all his life about not caring about his heritage - was this just another example of his inability to understand himself? No, he quickly realised, it was not the same. Something had happened on the road, some inner strength had bolstered his spirit, for deep inside, something had made sense, something he still did not understand. He had questions and no answers, except for the surety that he was strong enough to face this new challenge.

"I understand. And if I recognise that in this, you are right, it is because I am sure of what I say now. I do not say it will be easy, that I will not be angry or sad, or that I won't need you all to keep me focussed. But I can deal with it. Until yesterday, I did indeed deceive myself, but not today."

His words had been heartfelt, strong and convincing. It was enough and Ram en' smiled, while Idhreno and Lindo nodded curtly. They believed him, for now, but that did not mean that everything would slip back into normalcy, for that concept had just drastically changed for them all, and although they were still young, they were old enough to realise this one thing. Life would never be the same for them again.

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

"Lainion, should I speak to him, do you think?" asked Handir from the other side of their tent.

Lainion half turned to face his Prince, his expression thoughtful. "I am unsure, Handir. He may, perhaps, need a little more time to come to terms with this. Tomorrow, perhaps?"

"I ask, Lainion, not because it is my wish to do so, but because we should, perhaps, at least acknowledge one other, should the Noldor draw precipitous conclusions upon our arrival..."

"Of course," said Lainion lightly, successfully hiding the twinge of disappointment. "Just remember, my Lord, that he is half your age..."

Handir's head whipped to face Lainion, his eyes a little wider than was normal for him.

"I had not realised quite how young he is. 'Tis a wonder he is already a warrior..."

"He is good, Handir. He is very good, and the Valar forbid you will not come to see just how good..."

Lainion would wonder, later, for his words had been prophetic, as they would find out no sooner the Sun peaked over the stony horizon.

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

Thranduil and Aradan had arrived from their short trip to the nearby Silvan villages, and as evening fell, the two elves fell under the awestruck stares of guards and civilians alike as they strode through the Halls. There was no mistaking the glint of life in the king's eyes, his tall, imposing figure straight and strong once more. No one had missed the frank openness in his eyes, the ghost of an elegant smile upon his lips and the length of his stride, long and powerful. He was a figure they had not seen for many centuries and while some managed to hide their surprise, others stopped to bow, their heads rising once more with a smile and a nod.

Aradan, who walked behind him, drank it all in, his joy almost bursting from him, his own gait both proud and powerful. The king was back and he, Aradan, was his Chief Councillor. The Greenwood would soon regain her equilibrium, her peace and sense of justice, her multi-cultural society that had never before discriminated anyone in any way.

The solid oak doors closed with a deep thud and the sound of guards snapping to attention could be heard from outside. Striding to the window, the king took off his cloak and turned to the window.

"Aradan, take note of what I say to you now, for there is much to be done. Call on whom you must to help you."

"Of course, my Lord," replied Aradan as he moved to sit at the table, reaching for a parchment and quill.

"Tell me, when is Prince Rinion due back from the East?"

"One week, my Lord."

"Good. No sooner he arrives I will see him in private. Meanwhile, I will write a letter for Maeneth, bound for Lothlorien. Arrange for a courier to ride out tomorrow morning with letters for the princess and for Lord Celeborn. I will write personal messages for Elrond, Handir and Lainion - these will be urgent and priority. Have guards escort the courier, and Aradan," added the king purposefully, "It is of the utmost importance that these couriers leave in secret. I want no one to know of these dispatches, no one except you, me, Huron and Turion."

"I have it, my Lord. No message for young Legolas, then?"

The king's eyes glinted. "Legolas? Is that what they call him?"

Aradan smiled, before adding, "Legolas, The Silvan, Hwindohtar..."

"Hwindohtar?" asked Thranduil with a frown, now utterly lost.

"Aye," smiled Aradan. "I am told there is a story to it, but you must ask Lainion for it. I have not even seen the boy."

The king looked thoughtful for a moment, before turning away. He had not answered Aradan's question about the letter, and the councillor would not insist, not yet.

"I am calling a summit, to be held in ten days' time," continued the king, momentarily startling Aradan from his musings. "I want all the Silvan representatives here, no excuses. We must ensure every village is represented."

"That will mean hundreds of Silvan delegates, my Lord."

"I know, yet it must be done. See to the logistics of it, Aradan."

"What of the Avari?" he asked. "They must surely be included in such a nationwide summit."

"Yes, of course, see to it, Aradan."

"And ... can you spare me two weeks, my Lord, instead of ten days?" he asked urgently, for the magnitude of these requests was simply - daunting.

"Yes. Two weeks then. And Aradan - issue an invitation to Amareth. I would speak with her..."

Aradan's furiously scribbling hand paused for a moment, before continuing once more, for the king was already speaking.

"We continue..."

"I am ready."

"I want General Huron and Captain Turion in my office after lunch."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Before the evening meal, I will visit the training fields and our valiant warriors. I would have them know their king is grateful for their service to this realm."

Aradan smiled as he wrote, waiting for the next order. But none came.

"You want more?" asked Thranduil blithely as he turned from the window to his Chief Councillor.

Aradan looked up, his face open and joyous. "Welcome back, my King."

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

Tomorrow would mark the final leg of their journey, but tonight, and to their horror, the weather had unleashed a bitter snow storm that had already covered half the camp in snow, indeed it was all they could do to keep their fires burning and their hoods upon their heads.

The company had remained at the back, for still no one had approached them with the slightest inclination to teach them. Thus they had naturally gravitated towards the position of the other Silvan warriors. They were received well enough; at least they were not subject to snide remarks and withering stares. There was an arrogance about the Sindar that did not fit with the Silvan way, and Idhreno rather fancied these Silvans thought the same, for he had not missed their disapproving stares when Silor had made one of his many, disrespectful requests.

The wind howled around the rocks and crevices, and the duty guards called out their time signals - enemy at bay. The bird calls echoed strangely, and then mixed with the moaning wind.

Idhreno cocked his head to the full moon, holding the hood of his cloak in place.

'Tis a strange night, he mused to himself, before curling up beside the rest of The Company, and falling into a fitful sleep.

By dawn, the warriors were covered in a thin layer of snow. Stirring to life, they shook it off in irritation, rubbing their hands and thighs in an effort to regain some feeling in their frozen bodies. Breath frosted before them, and Galadan watched them, his face grave as Lord Celegon came to stand silently beside him.

"This will set us back, my Lord. Pray it does not get worse."

Celegon turned to look at his lieutenant, but remained silent, for there was nothing else to say and so he cast his eyes around the camp one last time, and then turned into the prince's tent, leaving Galadan with his thoughts.

On the other side of the slowly awakening camp, the company sat sipping on their tea, the last small comfort before they set off once more. Idhreno was about to launch into a fully-fledged mental moan about how uncomfortable their present predicament was, but he was startled out of it by a sudden movement beside him.

Legolas held his head tilted upwards, his eyes closed. Watching carefully, Idhreno half expected to see the unnerving green mist again and mentally prepared himself for it. However when Legolas did open them, they were crystal clear pools of moss green.

"The scouts return in haste, they have news..." he had said it loud enough for the Silvan warriors nearby to hear him.

"We should tell Silor," said Idhreno as he moved to stand.

"Wait," said Legolas, looking straight through his friend. Listening, he was listening... and the Silvan warriors slowly rose to their feet, their eyes riveted on the young warrior, the one they knew was called The Silvan.

"There is something they do not know... Idhreno, my eyes..." hissed Legolas desperately in frustration, turning his head so that the others could not see the transformation.

"It's alright, you are shielded, continue."

"There is trouble they are unaware of... " he said urgently.

"Elo has gone for Silor," shouted one of the Silvan warriors, craning his neck for a better view of what was happening.

Idhreno turned to identify the Silvan, and simply nodded his understanding. They were only trying to help but Idhreno would have preferred to approach the aspiring Sindarin lieutenant himself, rather than drawing him to Legolas, for his eyes - his eyes were burning, blazing with green fire.

Moments later, Silor strode into their midst, anger furrowing his strict brow.

"What is the meaning of this?" he spat, "you are interrupting the morning agenda."

Ram en' Ondo stepped forward, effectively blocking Silor's line of sight. "There is trouble, Sir. The scouts ride in haste and we believe there is something they do not know, some hidden danger."

"And who says this?" asked Silor, his voice low and dangerous as he rounded on Ram en' Ondo, albeit his head only reached his collar bone.

"One of our party is a listener, Sir. He says it is so."

"One of you novice Silvan boys? Fresh out of the barracks and already playing hero? Ah, let me guess," he said sarcastically - perhaps it is - The Silvan?" he asked with a smile that seemed almost a snarl.

"Yes, Sir," said Ram en' Ondo quietly.

With one hand flat upon Ram en' Ondo's chest, Silor moved him aside until he stood before the cloaked and hooded Legolas, Idhrenohtar ramrod stiff beside him, his face hard and forbidding.

"Take your hood of when you address me, warrior. Now!" he shouted harshly. The other Silvan warriors moved closer, instinct telling them Silor should not have insisted.

After a moment of hesitation, one strong archer's hand moved up and flipped his hood down, revealing the harsh, rebellious set of Legolas' face, his eyes alight with the life force of the forest.

Some gasped, while others swore strings of curses in Sindarin, Silvan and even Quenyan, their hands straying to the pommels of their swords. It was then that Idhrenohtar, Ram en' Ondo and Lindohtar stood to each side of Hwindohtar, their eyes burning into the surrounding warriors, daring them to approach, the promise of retribution glinting dangerously in their eyes should any endanger their friend.

"Servant of Morgoth!!" spat Silor as he lurched forward, but Ram en' and Idhreno blocked his path with their own bodies, causing Silor to crash into them, or specifically Ram en' Ondo. Not in vain had he been called Wall of Stone, for he was a monument of strength and Silor fell backwards, landing on his backside painfully, legs splayed clumsily.

Yet far from receiving help and protection from the Silvan warriors, they simply stood and watched, their eyes darting from Silor to the terrifying vision of Legolas. One of them, a chestnut haired elf, stepped forward, speaking it seemed, for the rest of his group.

"Who are you?" he asked slowly, his hand still over his knife."

"I am Legolas, The Silvan," said Hwindo, his voice strong and steady, in spite of the situation that had just taken place.

"What, are you?" the warrior asked then, earning the confirming nods of the others.

"I am a warrior of his majesty's militia. I am a listener. What you see is energy from the trees, brother. This is not witchcraft - it is woodcraft..."

Against all odds, the brightest of smiles broke out on the warrior's face, his blue eyes sparkling and his white teeth flashing, lending him a soft beauty that wrenched a smile from Legolas, despite the ferocity of his face.

"You!" raged Silor as he slowly stood, his furious eyes upon those of Legolas, which had begun to lose their glow, slowly returning to their normal colour.

Moving forward, he grasped the front of Legolas' tunic and pulled him forward until their eyes were inches from each other.

"You, are in trouble boy. Get your backside to Lieutenant Galadan's tent now, you three as well," he added with a jerk of his head, before spinning on his heels and casting the other Silvan warriors a thunderous gaze.

Legolas blew out a breath and Ram en' Ondo struggled to control his ire.

"Let's go. Perhaps Lieutenant Galadan will listen," said Legolas as he began to walk away, towards the centre of their camp where Galadan's tent would be, next to Prince Handir's he supposed.

Behind him, Ram en' Ondo, Idhrenohtar and Lindo strode purposefully, and as Idhrenohtar looked over his shoulder, he was surprised to see the other five Silvan warriors following them. He smiled at their leader, the blue-eyed warrior that had spoken up when Silor had landed on the ground.

Soon enough, they stood before the tent, watching as a fuming Silor emerged with Galadan, the Sindarin lieutenant.

"Who is The Silvan?" he asked quietly, and Idhrenohtar tensed at his menacing tone.

"I am Legolas, Sir," he said confidently, and Idhrenohtar was proud of the strength behind his words.

"You have disobeyed your superior. What have you to say?"

"That I have not disobeyed Silor, Sir."

"You say he lies?" asked Galadan, his voice even softer than before.

"I do," was all Legolas said.

Galadan turned his head to Silor in a silent request to explain.

"One of the Silvans came running to me about some hidden danger. I accompanied him for it seemed whoever had claimed this could not be bothered to report it himself. Upon my arrival, in my effort to glean the truth, I was bodily blocked from this boy," he spat, "by those two, pushing me over."

The Silvans bristled at the blatant untruth, but Legolas remained silent, waiting for Galadan to react to Silor's words.

"Speak, Legolas," said the lieutenant, his eyes momentarily registering the presence of the entire camp, the warriors and even Prince Handir stood in apprehensive silence as they watched the exchange.

"Sir, I am a listener. I know that our scouts have returned with grave news, and I also know there is an added danger - a danger we were warned about more than 30 minutes ago. We are in danger..." he said, his eyes momentarily straying to Lainion.

"Wait," said Galadan, holding his hand up. "Is it true, that you threw Silor to the floor?"

"No Sir. He moved to seize me and Ram en' Ondo and Idhrenohtar blocked his path, it was his own impetus that sent him to the ground, Sir, they did not push him."

Galadan's brow furrowed. "Very well, we will deal with this at the appropriate time, for now, tell me, what is this danger you claim we are in?

"Our scouts will have reported a group of mountain orcs to our left. Their party will be twenty strong, but there is a second party at the rear, larger. The group the scouts report is a decoy - they set a trap for us, Sir."

Galadan walked up to Legolas and stared him in the eye as if he had gone mad. "Our scouts have indeed reported a group of ten to our left.... how can you be so sure of this second group, of their numbers?"

Before Legolas could answer, the urgent yell of a sentinel split the air and their camp was plunged into chaos.

"Attack!" yelled the guard, "to arms, "imminent attack!"

Galadan shot a murderous glance at Silor, before rushing away to organise their defence. They had been caught off guard, and Legolas spat out his own curses in his own, deep Silvan dialect.

Who should they report to? He wondered, for surely Silor would not have the gall ...

"You!" yelled Silor unnecessarily - "follow Lieutenant Galadan and get out of my sight!" he thundered at Legolas, and then spun towards the rest of the Company. "And you, back to the end of the line, defend us from whatever your friend thinks is coming from there..." he spat and then smiled crookedly before striding away.

Idhrenohtar, Ram en' Ondo and Lindohtar looked at each other, completely at a loss. Would there be anyone else at the end of the line? Did Silor send them there alone to die? It was the blue-eyed Silvan that broke the awkward moment.

"Then let the Silvans defend the rear - for glory and land!" he shouted, his face alight with the rush of imminent battle and the remaining Silvans shouted their enthusiasm.

Those of The Company shared a last lingering gaze upon each other, their faces set in determination and courage.

"Come then. If the Sindar would disregard the voice of the forest, we Silvans never will. We fight!" said Idhrenohtar, and with that, they were running down the line, their weapons of choice clasped firmly in their hands. And as they ran like the wind, Idhreno wondered what they could possibly do against a host of forty, if indeed Legolas was right, and Idhreno knew that he was.