"No, a little less, I used the medium-sized spoon as a reference."

"Alright. I will make up another batch and store it for a week in the same place, after which we can sit and try to separate the elements, is that how it works?" asked Nestaron, his eyes greedy for the information, blue irises staring into intelligent light grey.

"Yes," answered Elladan a little hesitantly, "although my father is the true expert in this. I will write to him tomorrow, explain what has happened and ask for his council on the matter. If I know him at all he will be banging on the great doors in exactly two weeks time!"

"Elrond? Here?" asked Nestaron, his disbelieving eyes sparkling with the very thought.

"Well, perhaps not, but the discovery merits it, Nestaron, this you know," said Elladan as they arrived at the fortress and entered the cool mountain halls.

"Hwindohtar!" came a shout that made Elladan jump and turn. There, a Silvan warrior saluted proudly as a smiling Legolas passed him and returned it, and Rafnohtar grinned, for there was a joy in the Silvan's eye that could not be denied, in spite of the Council that was due to start in mere minutes.

"Rafnohtar," said Legolas as he approached the two healers, his eyes momentarily alighting on Nestaron who stared back at him in something akin to stupor, for the healer had only ever seen him dishevelled and dressed in rags. Now, however, his extraordinary hair sat upon his head in neat braids and twists, his uniform shining as it sat over the sheer silk of his long under-tunic.

"Healer Nestaron," nodded Legolas formally.

Nestaron nodded back, unsure, it seemed, as to what to call him. Silvan, Legolas, Hwindohtar?

"Well, Elladan, I will get back. Let me know when you have news from your Lord father and I will keep you abreast of our - brew," he smiled, and Elladan returned it.

Alone now, Rafno and Hwindo walked together towards the great Council Hall.

"So, this is it," said Rafno, shooting Legolas a sideways glance, not quite sure why he would be in such a pleasant mood, but he was.

"Where is the rest of The Company, Elladan?" asked Legolas as they walked.

They are in the public area, for they have no place within the circle. They were adamant about procuring for themselves a good vantage point, lest the need arise to trounce Barathon or Brethil," he smirked.

Legolas snorted, "they can get into line then."

"Lieutenants!" came the deep voice of Commander General Glorfindel, but only Elladan turned elbowing Legolas as he did so.

Glorfindel saluted them both, watching in mischief as a somewhat embarrassed Legolas returned it. "Not yet used to it, eh? You soon will be, and you will find it more of a nuisance than anything else!" he smiled.

"Yes, well, I am entitled to a twenty-four hour adaptation period, surely! moaned Legolas as he straightened his uniform.

"Does it pull?" smirked Glorfindel.

"No!" said Legolas, with a boyish smile, "it's just - very fancy," he said, looking down at himself.

"You look very handsome, Hwindo, ignore this Gondolindrim," said Elladan with a wave of the hand. "We should be getting along, I will join The Company in the public area; I will see you later?" he asked, his face serious once more.

"I do not know, Rafno - I hope so," he said apologetically.

"Come," said Glorfindel, "let's get this over with," he said, and with that, Legolas and Elladan clasped forearms for the last time that day, the Noldo's sparkling grey eyes falling heavily on Legolas' green irises.

"Tell them why you must be for the Silvans, convince them of your loyalty, show them they can trust you," he said.

"I will try," said Legolas, "I can do no more."

"Nay, you cannot - but it will be enough," said Elladan with an encouraging smile. "Beguile them, my friend, as only you know how..."

Legolas smiled at his friend, a wide and genuine smile that for a moment, took away the apprehension that Elladan could now see, and he supposed Glorfindel did to.

Soon enough, Legolas entered the Council Hall together with Glorfindel, and the habitual mantle of silence settled over the gathered crowds. They watched the Silvan as he made his way towards Prince Handir, while Glorfindel sat at Mithrandir's side with one last encouraging nod at Legolas. The King too, stopped his conversation with Aradan to watch, catching his son's eyes and giving him a minute nod and an approving gaze at his appearance. Legolas bowed formally, before sitting beside Handir, finally allowing his eyes to rove over the councillors that would participate.

Twenty elves, predominantly Sindarin, made up the Permanent Council, and every one of them wore fine garments of the best quality silk and velvet. Long tunics similar to those of the Noldor, billowing cloaks and opulent jewellery as was the Sindarin way ... they looked splendid to Legolas' unaccustomed eyes and he suddenly realised he did not stand out amongst them in his own, fine new uniform. It bought him a modicum of confidence and he breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind before the council began.

He was unsure whether he would be called upon to speak at this point for he was not a member of this council, indeed he was a guest, albeit he sat in the circle. He was reminded then, of a conversation he had had with Handir in Imladris, when his brother had told Legolas that the Council Hall was every bit a battlefield of its own and he had believed that. His own lack of experience left him open to the possibility of being shredded to pieces should he open his mouth and that would not be good for his pretensions at all.

And so he prayed that the councillors would sort this out between themselves, that Handir would do his part, just as he had promised he would, and that Legolas could simply watch, listen, and perhaps learn.

And as Legolas took those final few minutes to calm himself, Handir watched his brother as he, in turn, watched the lords and councillors. Such a strong profile, mused the prince, similar to Rinion, he thought, for he had that same, determined look on his face that sharpened the curve of his jaw and the ridge of his nose.

His slanted green eyes sparkled, with what Handir could not say but as yet, he did not seem overly nervous and that in itself was a good thing, for although the council had not yet started, the Councillors had already begun to form their own opinions of Legolas; his appearance, his expression, his body language would be giving them much information and Handir approved of the impression he rather thought Legolas had caused so far.

Except of course, with Bandorion and Draugole, who made no effort at all to hide their contempt, for their lips curled in disgust as they spoke, their eyes fixed upon his younger brother. What must it be like? he wondered, to feel that hatred turned against you, feel it as it permeated the skin and sat like heavy metal upon the levity of one's soul ... and yet Legolas would be accustomed to it, he realised sadly.

Turning his eyes now to the public area, he found it brimming. The Company stood off to one side, and Lieutenant Galadan stood close by, together with General Huron and Captain Dunorel. Barathon and Brethil, dressed as civilians, stood skulking in the shadows as they spoke quietly with one another. There was another elf with them, dressed as a warrior, and Handir suddenly realised it was the trainee lieutenant Silor, the one that had caused such strife on the way to Imladris.

So they meant to speak, thought Handir, to discredit Legolas with everything they had; Barathon and Brethil's demotion, Silor's slanted report... But then Celegon had been there, he would be able to refute it - perhaps - if, of course, he had even seen what Silor had. Whichever the case, they seemed confident they would be given the word, for only the members of the Permanent Council had the right to speak freely.

The plain truth was, that the only real weapon the Sindar had against Legolas, was their ability to call on the elder days, and to do so with their admittedly skilful minds and tongues. That, and to call into play Legolas' illegitimate begetting, for that did not sit well with many of the ancient Sindarin families. They could also bring his tender age into play, of course, or question his loyalty to his new-found family, but Handir felt confident that Celegon and Glorfindel's reports would be more than sufficient to refute their claims.

Turning to the king, Handir watched as Aradan talked with him and his father listened attentively as he allowed his own eyes to watch the Hall. His father was shrewd, skillful, intuitive like few others, save perhaps for the uncanny Commander General Celegon, and Aradan himself, his own tutor.

There was a lull in the conversation, as Lefnui, their Lore Master, walked slowly into the circle, waiting to be announced, and in his arms, sat a heavy tome the elf cradled as a thing of beauty.

Three resounding claps of wood upon stone soon immersed the Hall in expectant silence, and yet Handir's mind was full of noise for now was the moment he had been preparing himself for. It was no longer time for timid opinion and insecure words. He had to secure his brother's naming as Warlord, and with it, secure his own place within the Permanent Council.

"My Lords, Ladies, Councillors," began the Master of Ceremonies, Sedren. "This Council is declared in session," he called out, turning to every councillor and guest sitting in the circle.

"We are gathered here today, to discuss and decide upon the request brought to us, by the Silvan people. Specifically, this request is for the restitution of the figure of the Silvan Warlord, and that specifically, this office should be given to Lord Legolas, son of Thranduil King."

There were soft murmurs around the circle, and many glances cast in Legolas' direction, and Handir watched as Legolas simply settled his eyes on Sedren and allowed no emotion to show on his face. He was good, he mused.

"The Lore Master, Lefnui, will read to us a passage from the Book of Silvan Lore, so that we may all understand what it is the Silvan people are asking of us."

"Lefnui..." he said, yielding the centre of the circle to the Lore Master.

Lefnui stood tall and strange as he opened his book and held it open on a page. There, was a colourful illustration of an elf. He stood tall and defiant, his legs and arms open and his face stared back at the reader challengingly. He looked dangerous for upon his back, sat a mighty bow and sword, and at his belt, hung daggers and knives.

His hair was completely braided, adorned with beads and stones and shells, and around his shoulders, instead of a luscious, lordly cloak, were wolf skins. His strong, muscled chest was bare, save for the leather harnesses of his weapons, and there were strange drawings upon his shoulders and his abdomen.

When Lefnui was sure they had all seen it, he brought the book to his face and read.

"The supreme warrior of our people, is named Warlord, for he is good and he is just, his skill at war unrivalled.

Our Warlord travels our forests, rids it of our enemies, protects our crops and animals, defends our Nandorin nature as dwellers under the trees, as lovers of all things growing and wholesome.

His only Commander is the Silvan people for he stands in service of them and in return he is respected, and obeyed in all things relative to his commitment.

The Silvan people have no higher leader, and a Warlord may not be appointed by any other than the Silvan Council. Yet theirs too, is the prerogative to destitute him should they so deem it just.

There can be no Warlord without the Silvan people, and no Silvan nation without a Warlord..."

He closed the book carefully, bowed, and then left the circle.

The Master of Ceremonies spoke again then, breaking the introspective silence that had followed Lefnui's reading.

"The debate is open. Consensus must be reached with a majority vote."

Thorontur was the first to stand and walk into the circle. Bowing, he cast his eyes around the circle as any good Councillor would, and then gave his opinion.

"As I understand this, the Warlord is a warrior who may or may not be a member of the Greenwood army. In this case, Lord Legolas is a lieutenant and as such, if he were to be named Warlord, would have precisely the rank of Lieutenant. I believe the Warlord is a more ceremonial figure, a representative, a spokesperson. At present, the Silvan people have no real, elected leader, indeed only recently in the Greenwood Summit, we saw Lords Erthoron and Lorthil sharing that role. If it is their Warlord to represent them, I have no qualms neither to the creation of this figure, nor to Lord Legolas fulfilling it, so long as he answers to his military rank, and is loyal to this realm."

Returning to his seat, it was Lenwë the Silvan, who next walked into the circle.

"Indeed, my Lords, Thorontur is correct. Our Warlord is not a Silvan Commander, as is Lord Celegon. He is a leader of warriors, a defender of our forests, he will be our voice should we need to be heard on a collective level, and it will be us to take that honour away, should he fail in his service to his people. It must not be seen as a threat to the harmony of our land - on the contrary, it is a sign of trust from one people to another - the Sindar to the Silvan, for just as we Silvans serve our King Thranduil - a Sindarin Lord, we ask that you concede this one thing to the Silvan people - our Warlord."

Lenwe bowed and then sat and Handir knew that now, the turmoil would begin, indeed, Merylyth was next, amidst a silence so great even the rustle of her skirts could be heard.

"My Lords. By definition, a Warlord is a leader, and as a leader, he has leave to command. I find it hard to correlate this supposedly ceremonial figure who is subject to the standard military hierarchy, with the definition itself. By conceding a Warlord, we would effectively be creating a co-commander, and even if that is not, theoretically the case, in practice, it would be so.

For now, my vote will be against this petition and against he who is proposed to fulfil it."

Handir glanced at Aradan, whose eyes were narrow and sharp. He knew that look, indeed, Aradan stood and took the floor, and Handir braced himself for a demonstration of pure skill and intelligence that was about to be witnessed.

My Lady, my Lords. Lady Merylyth has effectively summed up the problem I believe to be at the root of many objections. She is against the Warlord because it would be effectively naming a co-commander - a Silvan commander, and you see that as a problem, you believe it should not be allowed. "Why would you think that, my Lady?

You see, I wonder, if it is a purely logical problem, whereby two commanders may or may not work effectively together, or whether it is because one of them - is Silvan...

I hope and pray that this is not the case, my Lady, for the question at hand is not to judge the Silvan people. There must be no question of their loyalty to the crown and therefore, their Warlord, should he come into existence, would also be loyal to the crown. This is not about two sides, it is about one common front against the enemy, for the Greenwood.

Needless to say, I am in agreement with the Silvan people's request and that Lord Legolas should be the one to carry out that role. However, I do see the need to negotiate the exact terms in so far as his specific duties and responsibilities. That, however, is a secondary issue that our Commanders and king must discuss. We, the civilian council, are here to decide whether or not to grant the creation of a Silvan spokesperson, albeit he will be military in nature - it is no more than that, my Lords, and no less."

Aradan bowed and returned to his sit, careful not to let his eyes fall on anyone as he did so.

"You make it sound so frivolous, Lord Aradan," said Draugole in his characteristically droll voice as he floated into the circle. "A Silvan spokesperson... did you see that drawing, my Lord? I did, and I tell you now, that was no spokesperson," he scoffed. "That - was a warrior, a fierce, dangerous warrior - is that what we want as a spokesperson for the forest dwellers? I do not... I see this as an open threat, a way in which the Silvan people wish to gain autonomy for themselves, a schism, a wedge they drive between us. I will not agree with this, and much less the one proposed for it."

And with that, he walked back to his place and sat, his face defiant as it scanned the remaining councillors, only to rest finally upon Legolas.

"Drive a wedge between us..." began Celegon as he strode into the circle. "You, speak of wedges, Lord Draugole? As Commander General, not only do I see no threat, but a true advantage to this new figure. It would drastically improve our military intelligence, our planning and strategy, it will bolster the morale of our Silvan warriors not against the Sindar - but in favour of our army - return to them their sense of pride and duty, something they seem to have lost over these past centuries.

You see a fierce and dangerous warrior, indeed that is what Lord Legolas is, but you fail to understand that he is on our side - he is one of us!

Give them their Warlord, for he will be subject to the same military laws as any of us - this is not about Sindar - Silvan schisms - it is about working together. I am highly in favour of this new figure, and I whole-heartedly support Lieutenant Legolas' claim to that office - I, and the entire Inner Circle," he said finally, his wide eyes glancing over the circle of councillors, willing them to see his meaning.

"Of course you do," began Bandorion as he stood slowly. "Are you sure there is no Silvan blood in you, Commander General, for you speak like one of them," he said, garnering for himself more than a few whispered insults. "Now, if you need help in the forest, why not create an outpost? Station a regional commander there? That is all it would take and hence, I am against this absurd request. I must also make known my utter horror at the very thought of this - warrior - having any position of authority in our sacred army."

Handir could see the tension in his father's jaw but there was no other sign that he was otherwise annoyed. But one look at Lord Draugole told him that he was not pleased with Bandorion's manner and Handir was not surprised at all.

It was time, and he stood.

"My Lord Bandorion. Your suggestion of creating an outpost and dispatching a regional commander - what is the difference between that and what the Silvan people request? I will tell you - nothing - at - all. Except that of course, the regional commander would be Silvan, or 'one of them' as you have described our woodland brothers. And of course this Warlord would have a ceremonial title which really should not concern you at all. I wonder, therefore, at your reticence and the nature of it for you see, you make no sense. Could you perhaps, elaborate, my Lord?" asked Handir with a pleasant smile on his face as he bowed, and returned to his seat, knowing full well he had just infuriated his distant uncle, but then again, that was exactly what he hoped to achieved for in this he knew Bandorion well, his anger would be his downfall.

The silence stretched on for longer than it had done so far but eventually, Bandorion rose, slowly and carefully, his eyes anchored on his second nephew.

"I will indeed elaborate, Prince Handir, so that you may understand my point more easily. It is not the same thing, for a Silvan Warlord is nothing less than a king to them - it is an unnecessary figure that I feel is threatening to the sovereignty of this land. It feels aggressive. It will rally the Silvans until they turn against us and then what do we do? Rule a land that is divided? No - that would never work and I will not see my realm broken, fractured into tiny pieces all because the Silvans have a whim!"

Handir rose once more but waited for a while for the harsh words to permeate. Only then, did he continue his final onslaught.

"I think we all see your point more clearly now, my Lord. Your choice of words is stunningly revealing. Let me see - ah yes - a Warlord is nothing less than a king to them, or how about a threatening, aggressive figure, or even better, you say the Silvans will turn against their king in favour of this Warlord...

And yet there are no grounds to assume the Nandor want civil war, my Lord. You say too, that you will not see your realm broken - but you see - it already is. The Silvan people are our warriors, they outnumber us five to one and yet you scoff at their culture? You call it a whim, you condone the outrageous prejudice against Silvan warriors becoming officers - you think nothing of that and now, after so much time, they are angry, they are hurt and they want their identity back - you will it or no, Lord Bandorion. This is their land, as much as it can be called anyone's. Who are you to take from them their customs, their beliefs, their rights? Give this council one good reason why a Warlord should not be allowed to exist and I will hear you out - tell me it is redundant, tell me it serves no purpose, tell me it is more dangerous than the situation we already find ourselves in and I will listen and I will think. Until then, I am for The Silvan."

Instead of the shocked silence from before, a mighty cheer went up from the Public area and Handir chanced a glance at them. Their fists were held high and they smiled, while Barathon and Brethil simmered in seething anger.

Handir had played his hand, and Bandorion had allowed his anger to show, and with that loss of control came his true feelings on the matter. Handir hoped it would be enough.

Draugole was back in the circle now, and he pivoted on his heel as he engaged the eyes of every single councillor.

"We surely cannot take this popular talk seriously, indeed we all know why Prince Handir is for the Silvan request. You see, this new brother of his, has him submitted to his every whim. Lord Legolas has played his hand as poor orphan boy and our Prince, admittedly still young, has taken him in. Lord Legolas, is using him to achieve his goals and it is time for someone to open his eyes to the facts. This elf," he pointed directly at Legolas, "hates his Sindarin origins and wishes only to serve the Silvan people - make no mistake," he emphasised, "if we give him this power he will take it, and use it against us, break our nation and everything that our brave king Oropher strove to achieve.

Prince Handir will come to see that, one day. For now it is the responsibility of those of us old and experienced enough to read between the lines, it is we who must guide him on the right path. I beg of you, my brothers, do not give this power to those that will turn on us at the slightest of opportunities."

Handir disciplined himself, mercilessly quelling his rising anger lest he make the same mistake that Bandorion had, and so he stood slowly, and walked even more slowly into the circle, taking the time he needed before speaking for he was sure that whatever came out of his mouth now, may well tip the balance.

"Lord Draugole. I am indeed young, but what has that to do with my arguments? As a councillor, my Lord, you will have an intimate knowledge of what is called a 'fallacy.' However, I am confused for you have used more than one in your speech. You call me young and thus seek to discredit my argument - why do you not attack my argument instead? I will tell you why - because you cannot and hence you resort to the use of fallacies, thinking perhaps that those that listen, will not notice what it is you do. This, to me, seems characteristic of a trainee Councillor, not a member of the Permanent Council.

Secondly, you suggest 'this elf,' he pointed at Legolas, "has me under his control, has tricked and manipulated me in order to gain his own evil intentions. I will tell you now, my Lord, that you have not once seen me together with my brother, that you have no way of knowing the relationship we share and so you see, again, your accusations are a non starter, another fallacy..." he stopped here for effect and tutted three times.

"Serious mistakes indeed, Lord Draugole but there is more. You claim that if Legolas is granted the status of Warlord, that he will use that power against us, to break us. Let me tell you what I know to be the facts, facts that many elves in this room will give testimony to.

He dropped back from a broken patrol on the way to Imladris, to defend them single-handedly against the marauding wargs, risked his life to get them to safety. Commander Celegon himself was there, as was Lieutenant Galadan, here present. But there is more... he saved two children, deep in the forest, against all odds, and he saved my life, on the way here to the Greenwood. He then subjected himself to the Inner Circle, earned their respect and their approval so tell me, my Lord Draugole - why - you continue to doubt him, in spite of what your own kinsman say? But that was a rhetorical question for you see I will answer it for you...

You hate him, both you and Lord Bandorion - you hate him because he is a bastard, because he is half sindarin and half silvan, you hate him for jealousy because he will bring splendour to the Silvan people, because he shamed your son in the sparring circle, precipitated his demotion and the stripping of his Master Swordsman title, but above all you hate him because he is Lassiel's son...!!" said Handir, his eyes wide and challenging, for that last accusation was a risk, and he knew it.

"That is your only reason for disagreeing to the request of the Silvan people. It is that simple my Lords," he said, addressing them all now. "We cannot allow this prejudice to continue, it is unhealthy and unbecoming of our people and it disgusts me. Lord Legolas is our king's son, and as such is my brother but that does not influence my beliefs. He is the best warrior we have, he is loyal unto giving his own life, he has the advantage of shared blood - there is no other that would do this job better than him."

Bandorion made to stand but Draugole held him back discreetly by the forearm, his own furious gaze silently telling his friend to hold, that there would, perhaps, be another opportunity, when the time came to vote.

Sedren, the Master of Ceremony stepped into the circle, his great staff clicking over the stone.

"Are there any more voices that would be heard?" he asked in his booming voice. But Handir's words still echoed in their minds, permeated their own beliefs and mingled, rendering them all speechless and in need of deep thought.

"This council will vote in one hour. The session is closed!" he proclaimed, bringing his staff down with force.

Quiet murmuring accompanied the Councillors as they stood, their eyes seeking out Handir, before leaving to ponder their votes, yet those in the public area remained, for should they leave, they would surely lose their places.

As for Thranduil, he stood, and left, together with Mithrandir, Glorfindel, Aradan and his three sons, but they did not speak until they were safely inside the king's offices and the door firmly shut.

Turning abruptly, the king's eyes settled on Handir's. He seemed enraged for his eyes sparkled and his jaw was clenched, his body rigid and his fists balled at his sides. Handir was worried, terrified almost. He knew he had pushed his luck, and this was the proof of it.

He closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself and when he opened them his father was standing but inches from him.

"I am so sorry," whispered the king.

Handir's brow twitched in confusion.

"I am so sorry for taking you for granted, sorry for allowing you to believe I do not love you, that I am not proud of you. I am sorry for so many things, my son..."

"Father..."

"No - Handir - listen to me. I have never," he faltered, glancing at the floor for a moment before looking back up at his son. "I have never been prouder of you than I am now. You shone out there on the Council floor, your speech was flawless, incisive, clear and bold, cutting and intelligent, poignant and simply - brilliant," he stressed as his eyes trembled and sparkled. "I am so very full of love and admiration for you this day," he added quietly, before opening his arms and encircling Handir in an embrace so fierce it took him by surprise, until his own arms lifted and then snaked around his father's back and then held him. Years of grief, years of numbness, years of solitude and insecurity, fell away as their embrace strengthened and tears came to Handir's eyes.

Glorfindel and Mithrandir smiled indulgently at the rare display of fatherly love, and Rinion watched in what seemed to be fascination, while Legolas smiled wide and toothy.

Finally, King and Prince stepped back and looked at each other as if they had not set eyes on one another for seven hundred years.

"I love you too, father, and I have missed you - so very much..." whispered Handir through his tears. "And I am glad then, that my performance out there did not rile you," he chuckled.

Aradan stepped towards Handir then, and bowed low, as he would to Thranduil on formal ocasions. "I too, am proud - there is nothing more I can teach you, Councillor - I relieve you of your status as 'trainee.' Welcome to the Permanent Council and to the king's inner circle," he smiled and Handir returned it before turning to the others in the room, not quite knowing what to do or say.

But Legolas had no such problem and he spoke from where he stood.

"You once told me, in Imladris, that we would do this together, Handir. That you would leave me to wage war in the wilds, and that I would leave you to wage it in the Council Rooms. You told me we had a common cause, to serve our people, to make this land great once more and that, at the time, was all we shared. Yet now, after all these months together, after your service in the Council today, I too am proud - to have you as my brother, as my Prince."

Handir approached Legolas, his head cocked to one side as he walked, until he was close enough to stretch out one hand and place it over his brother's heart.

"And I am already proud of you - to see you fight, to see your light, to know that you are chosen by Yavanna and by your own Silvan people. You are an extraordinary elf and by your side, I cannot help but shine..."

Legolas could no longer hold his own tears and he did not try, instead walking into his brother and embracing him fiercely.

"By the Valar, muttered Rinion with a scowl as he turned to the drinks table and poured himself a glass of wine, but Thranduil watched him from the side, sure of what he could see, for the scowl had become a smile no sooner he had turned from them and the King wondered for a moment, if his frozen son, was slowly thawing out.