In the Hall of the Wood Elf King 
TreeHugger
AnakinS@aol.com 


Greetings! This is my “Hobbit” based fic. AU needless to say since Bilbo and 
Legolas never met. Or at least Master Tolkien never said that they did. Kudos to 
my reviewers who noticed the pipe jokes in the last chapter of “An Orc in 
Rivendell”! This is the story of the pipe and why Elves don’t smoke pipeweed. My 
version anyhow. Part of this is taken from “The Hobbit”. It is not necessary to 
have read my other fics as this one takes place many, many years before those. 
There may be a few jokes in reference to my others, but again your enjoyment of 
this tale does not require knowledge of them. Enjoy!



Chapter 1 - Once Upon A Time In Mirkwood

Bilbo Baggins gazed through the pipe smoke at the small figure huddled on the 
plump pillow in the chair on the opposite side of the hearth. Compassion flooded 
the bachelor Hobbit as he watched a small hand reach up unobtrusively to wipe 
away the tears that trickled from the sad blue eyes.

: Poor child. : He thought. : Lost both parents at once and brought to visit in 
a strange place with a strange cousin. : Well, he didn’t consider himself 
strange, but he knew that certain people did. He felt that he was a most 
ordinary Hobbit, or nearly so.

Bilbo adored children though he had none of his own. Certainly he preferred them 
to adults. Children were always more willing to listen to his stories and didn’t 
look at him strangely when he told them of Dwarves, Wizards, Elves or Dragons. 
They were always fascinated and asked all the right questions, where as the 
adults almost always looked skeptical and asked all the wrong questions.

“Frodo my lad, would you like to hear a story?”

The little Hobbit looked up at his cousin, wet eyes wide. He opened his mouth to 
speak, but no words formed, so he merely nodded.

Bilbo smiled, leaning back in his own chair, feeling the cushion shift beneath 
him. He thought for a moment, pipe clamped between his teeth. He watched the 
fragrant smoke wreath about his head. He withdrew the pipe and blew a smoke 
ring. Frodo gasped and smiled, leaning forward slightly. Bilbo smiled and blew 
another one. When many of them floated about the ceiling, Bilbo laughed in 
delight.

“Have I ever told you about the time I shared a pipe with an Elf prince? Elves 
don’t smoke, you know. And my goodness! I found out why!”

Frodo’s eyes widened even further as Bilbo laughed. He shook his head; dark 
curls glistening in the late afternoon sun that crept in at the window just to 
play upon the child’s hair.

“Well then. Would you like to hear about it?”

Frodo nodded solemnly, his tears forgotten for the moment.

“First let me get you something to eat. Would you like a cookie? Storytelling 
makes one hungry, you know.”

The child stared at his cousin in wonder. Bilbo bustled about piling biscuits, 
cookies, apples, and cheese on a tray, which he placed on the table between 
their chairs. Then he brought another tray loaded with a teapot, cups, plates, 
and napkins and set it by the first. His eyes twinkling, he handed Frodo a plate 
with cookies and cheese on it.

“Eat up, Frodo lad. Eat up while I tell you a grand adventure I once had in the 
Hall of the Wood Elf King.”

~ ~ ** ~ ~ ** ~ ~ ** ~ ~ ** ~ ~

Poor Mr. Baggins - it was a weary long time that he lived in that place all 
alone, and always in hiding, never daring to take off his ring, hardly daring to 
sleep, even tucked away in the darkest and remotest corners he could find. - The 
Hobbit


Mirkwood Forest was not a place where one would want to settle down and make a 
home, Bilbo thought grimly as he stared at the dark, twisted trees surrounding 
him. The undergrowth beneath the fell trees was tangled with thorns and filled 
with odd, unsettling noises: grunts and shuffling that filled the Hobbit with 
dread. It seemed always dark here; with only an occasional spear of sunlight 
filtering down to give them hope in this stifling place of fear.

They had journeyed for several days now since Gandalf had left them at the 
Forest Gate. They would have taken the Old Forest Road, but Beorn had warned 
them against it. Goblins used it, he had said and the eastern end was overgrown 
and led to impassable marshes where the paths were lost. And it would take them 
too far south anyway. He advised them to take a little know Elf path to the 
north saying it lead almost straight toward the Lonely Mountain, which was, of 
course, their destination.

Mirkwood seemed a place to avoid, but Gandalf had said it wasn’t wise to try and 
go round it. To the north were the Grey Mountains, two hundred or so miles away 
and there were no safe paths there. It would be a way haunted with goblins, 
hobgoblins, and orcs. And they had seen enough of Goblins lately! In the south 
was the tower of the Necromancer and they should in no wise go that way.

“Stick to the forest track, keep your spirits up, hope for the best, and with a 
tremendous slice of luck you may come out one day and see the Long Marshes lying 
below you, and beyond them, high in the East, the Lonely Mountain, where dear 
old Smaug lives, though I hope he is not expecting you.” The Wizard had told 
them cheerily before he had ridden off. “Good- bye! Be good, take care of 
yourself - and DON’T LEAVE THE PATH!” He had been emphatic on that last point.

They had heeded his advice and stayed on the path, though the path didn’t offer 
them much comfort. Stretching on either side of it were thick, dark cobwebs 
clinging to the trees, tangling in the lower branches. There were none on the 
path for which Bilbo was very grateful. What sort of spider could spin such 
large, sturdy webs? He was certain that he didn’t wish to find out. His hand 
often strayed to his little sword that he had gotten in the Troll’s cave. So 
much had happened that it seemed ages since then.

It had seemed ages since they had entered this bothersome forest. The Dwarves 
were grumbling quietly about how stuffy the air was, why was there no wind 
beneath these cursed trees. They were all tired and hungry, though Bilbo felt 
certain that he was hungriest of them all. Never in all his life did he remember 
being so deprived of food. They had shot one of the strange black squirrels that 
haunted the trees, but it had tasted so horrible they never shot another. Bilbo 
would spend the day trekking dully behind the Dwarves making lists of food in 
his head that he would eat when this adventure finally came to an end and he 
could go home to the Shire and his house, Bag End. Not that the Dwarves had left 
much in the pantries after their unexpected arrival and subsequent party. But 
that could be remedied quickly when he returned.

: If I returned. : He thought glumly.

It was that very day that they came upon a wide stream of swift flowing black 
water. But Beorn had warned them of this place as well, so regardless of their 
great thirst they didn’t fill their water bags here. Who wanted to drink 
enchanted water that brought on great drowsiness and forgetfulness? A bridge had 
spanned it at one time, but it had rotted and fallen away into the water, 
leaving only broken, slimy posts near the bank, tangled in ivy and woodbine.

Bilbo had noticed a boat on the other side about twelve yards from them.

“Twelve yards!” Thorin thundered. “I should have thought it was thirty at least, 
but my eyes don’t see as well as they used a hundred years ago. Still twelve 
yards is as good as a mile. We can’t jump it, and we daren’t try to wade or swim 
it.”

“Can any of you throw a rope?”

“What is the good of that? The boat is sure to be tied up, even if we could hook 
it, which I doubt.”

“I don’t believe it is tied,” said Bilbo, shooting a frustrated look at their 
leader, who was glowering beneath his eyebrows. “Though of course I can’t be 
sure in this light; but it looks to me as if it was just drawn up on the bank, 
which is low just there where the path goes down into the water.”

Thorin moved to stand by the Hobbit and was peering into the gloom across the 
water. He wasn’t certain if he trusted the Hobbit’s eyes any more than his own.

“Dori is the strongest, but Fili is the youngest and still has the best sight. 
Come here, Fili, and see if you can see the boat Mr. Baggins is talking about.” 
He said, with nary a glance at Bilbo.

Fili thought that he could see the boat and a rope was brought to him. It was 
the longest one they had with them with a large iron hook fastened on one end. 
Fili took it and weighed it in his hand then he whirled it about his head and 
threw it out across the water.

“Not far enough!” Bilbo said, when a loud splash filled the air. “A couple of 
feet and you would have dropped it on to the boat. Try again. I don’t suppose 
the magic is strong enough to hurt you, if you just touch a bit of wet rope.” He 
added, seeing the young Dwarf’s reluctance to allow his hand to come in contact 
with anything that had been drenched in the black enchanted waters of Mirkwood.

Fili made a face then pulled the hook from the water, looking as if he might be 
struck dead at any moment. Then he hurled it with even greater strength than his 
first throw.

There was a rustling and they knew he had overthrown this time. It had landed in 
the tangle of brush beyond on the far bank.

“Steady.” Bilbo cautioned. “You have thrown it right into the wood on the other 
side now. Draw it back gently.”

They all held their breath as their companion hauled the rope back as slowly as 
he could.

“Carefully!” Bilbo hissed. “It is lying on the boat; let’s hope the hook will 
catch.”

Suddenly the rope went taut and Fili pulled as hard as he could. But to no 
avail. It was tied after all. Kili came to help followed by Oin and Gloin. The 
four tugged mightily until they all went tumbling onto their backs as the rope 
holding the boat gave way. Luckily Bilbo acted quickly and grabbed the fallen 
rope. The boat leapt forward being pulled along by the strong current.

“Help!” The Hobbit shouted and Balin leapt forward to grab it before it sailed 
past and was lost. They all looked at one another with the satisfaction of a job 
well done. The boat was theirs.

On the other side of the bank hidden behind the tall dark ivy twined trees, 
three pairs of eyes watched in startled amazement as their boat was pulled from 
its moorings and hauled across the dark water.

“What do those Dwarves think they are doing with our boat?” One of them asked, 
anger and disdain coloring his voice as his grey eyes narrowed.

“They are stealing our boat!” Another exclaimed, his grey eyes wide with shock 
as he stared at the Dwarves in amazement at their audacity. “How can they! Why 
we should -“

“Silence, Brethil. They will hear you.” The third one cautioned, his blue eyes 
watching as the Dwarves discussed who would go over in the boat first.

“I’m always last and I don’t like it.” A particularly fat Dwarf was saying 
petulantly. “It’s somebody else’s turn today.”

“That sounds like you, Brethil.” The other grey- eyed Elf said with a sideways 
glance at his companions.

Brethil drew a breath to protest, but a hand on his arm stopped his words.

“Don’t tease him, Tavor. Quiet.”

“Yes, Prince Legolas.” Tavor said with a slight, sarcastic smile.

“You should not be so fat.” Another Dwarf said, his white beard wagging under 
his blue hood, the silver tassel dancing.

: You should not be so loud. : The blue eyed one thought with amusement, his 
hand dropping from Brethil’s arm.

“Don’t start grumbling against orders, or something bad will happen to you.” The 
Dwarf finished, glaring at the fat one threateningly.

“There aren’t any oars. How are you going to push the boat back to the far 
bank?”

The three Elves looked at one another. What was that one? He didn’t look like a 
Dwarf, as he had no beard, though he was just as short, perhaps even shorter.

“Give me another length of rope and another hook.” A yellow bearded Dwarf said. 
He took the rope and hurled it across the water as high as he could, right into 
the branches of the tree behind which the Elves were hiding.

The three crouched down in shock, covering their heads as if they feared the 
heavy hook would tangle about them instead of the branches. But it didn’t fall 
and the Dwarves began to clamber into the boat.

The three Elves crept silently backward into the darkness of the surrounding 
trees. They watched as the Dwarves came ashore and sent the boat back for the 
others. As the last one - the fat one - was preparing to leave the boat there 
was the sound of flying hooves and a deer charged out of the underbrush and into 
the startled Dwarves. It leapt high and sprang across the water. But Thorin had 
fitted an arrow to his stout, short bow when he had stepped off the boat, 
fearing the arrival of its owner. Now he loosed the arrow and the deer fell as 
it made the safety of the brush on the other side.

“Your father is not going to be happy about that, Legolas.”

Legolas grimaced. No, Thranduil would not like his prey to escape thus. And let 
alone to be felled by a Dwarf’s arrow.

But the sudden shout drew his attention back to the figures on the bank.

“Bombur has fallen in! Bombur is drowning.”

The Elves watched as the fat Dwarf scrabbled at the slimy roots at the stream’s 
edge, the black water pulling at him as the boat disappeared in a swift rush of 
current. He had fallen in, startled by the deer’s sudden leap over his head.

“Stupid Dwarves!” Tavor growled, his hand clenching on his bow. “Look what 
they’ve done now.”

The Dwarves threw a rope with a hook on the end to their companion and quickly 
pulled him to shore as his hand closed about its length. They laid him on the 
bank, amazed that he was fast asleep, the rope clenched so tightly in his fists 
that they could not remove it.

It was then that the sound of hunting horns and the baying of dogs filled the 
air.

“Your lord father.” Tavor said with a glance at Legolas, elegant eyebrow arched.

Legolas sighed and shook his head.

“He will not be pleased when he learns of this. Dwarves in Mirkwood. Shooting 
the king’s deer.”

“I’m not telling him.” Brethil said quickly, well knowing how the king’s ire 
would be raised not only against the Dwarves, but the bearers of the news.

Tavor snorted.

“I won’t be the one either.”

They both turned to look at their prince, Thranduil’s youngest son.

He scowled, turning to look at the Dwarves one last time.

“Perhaps it won’t be necessary. They will probably be leaving soon anyway.”

The three feeling very relieved that they wouldn’t have to bear the news to 
their king turned and made their way into the forest, leaving the very 
disconcerted Dwarves staring at their slumbering companion, a smile of deep 
content on his fat face. 


Chapter 2 - Of Singing Orcs And Butterflies

In six days’ time the Dwarves still had not come to the eastern edge of 
Mirkwood. Their food and water supplies were nearly gone even though Bombur, who 
certainly consumed the most, still slept quite contentedly. Little did they know 
they were being trailed by the three Elves, who couldn’t believe the Dwarves 
were still in the confines of the forest moving slowly toward its edge.

To relieve their consternation and the tingle of apprehension they couldn’t 
quite shake - somehow they knew Thranduil would find out and then he would turn 
his anger onto those who had neglected to alert him to the Dwarves’ presence in 
his realm - they began to play tricks on the Dwarves, trying to frighten them 
into fleeing away at a much accelerated pace.

Bilbo shuffled through the dead leaves underfoot, not noticing the color changes 
as autumn came on. The air was stifling and close. He wiped his brow with a red 
handkerchief, one of Elrond’s, and glanced about. They were traveling through a 
grove of beech trees, the shadows not so deep here, nor so dark. But the sigh of 
the wind that wound through the line of trees sounded sad and lonely. Lost.

: Bothersome Dwarves! : He thought glumly. : I wish I had never come on this 
adventure. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable thing! Oh, why did I ever agree to 
come? :

Suddenly the sound of singing drifted to them. They froze in their tracks, Ori 
nearly plowing into Nori.

“Not again.” Thorin muttered, trying not to show how disconcerted he truly was.

Sometimes it was laughter and sometimes, as now, it was singing. They stared 
into the trees but saw nothing.

“Goblins!” Oin hissed, his hand moving to his axe. “Or Orcs.”

The others reached for their weapons as well and Dori and Kili lay Bombur on the 
ground where he snored quite happily.

“It can’t be.” Bilbo said. “Goblins don’t sound like that when they sing.” He 
remembered them singing as they surrounded the trees that he, Gandalf and the 
Dwarves had climbed to escape the Wargs just before the Eagles rescued them. 
“And I don’t know if Orcs sing. I doubt it. But…” He drew his sword a few inches 
from its sheath to see if it was glowing. It wasn’t and he heaved a sigh of 
relief. “Let’s go on. Please.”

Thorin agreed and they were soon moving forward for the music was eerie and 
strange.

Tavor clapped one hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as they hustled off. 
He followed them silently for a time then went to find Brethil and Legolas.

Legolas was seated on a tree branch high above the ground singing, his fair 
voice raised in a song that mocked the Dwarves’ heavy footfalls, their beards, 
and their fears.

“They have moved on.” Tavor said, grinning at Brethil who was seated beneath the 
tree checking his arrows.

Legolas finished his song and gazed down at his two friends, smiling with 
delight.

“Did they like it? I made it especially for them.”

Tavor smirked up at him.

“The strange Dwarf with furry feet knows you are not a Goblin.” He paused until 
Legolas snorted, then said slyly, “But he thinks you might be an Orc.”

“What?!” Legolas’ eyes widened in horror and he nearly tumbled from his perch in 
disbelief. “An Orc?! Don’t be ridiculous, Tavor. Orcs don’t sing.” He scowled, 
feeling highly insulted and dropped to the ground.

Brethil was giggling, trying to stifle the sound, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“An Orc!” He chortled. “Legolas, Prince of the Singing Orcs.” He rolled on the 
ground, howling with delight.

“Oh, shut up, Brethil. It’s not that funny.” Legolas muttered then turned to 
Tavor whose lips were twitching with amusement. “Which way did they go?”

“Im alcar gar gul, Caun ned Yrch.” [I do not have (that) knowledge, Prince of 
Orcs.] He said, bowing slightly.

Legolas glared at him, growling in Sindarin. He grabbed up his bow and quiver 
and stalked away.

Brethil sat up, still laughing.

“Is he going the right way?” He asked, watching Legolas retreating form.

“No.” Tavor grinned, folding his arms over his chest.

“When are you going to tell him that he is going the wrong way?”

“Oh…I don’t know. It would appear that Orc princes don’t have a good sense of 
direction.”

Brethil laughed again, standing and taking up his own weapons.

“Oh, well.” Tavor sighed, then grinned again suddenly. “I know how to stop him.”

As Bilbo and the Dwarves trudged on, another voice sang into the trees. But then 
they hurried away at yet a greater speed as a yell of outrage shattered the air.

“O Caun ned Gliriel Yrch!

Le rinciel I raeg athrad.

I Anfang drega amrun - u annun.”

[O Prince of Singing Orcs!

You (are) moving the wrong way.

The Dwarves flee east - not west.]



Two days later, with weary feet, Bilbo and the Dwarves stumbled downward into a 
small valley of oak trees. One of the trees was larger than the others, the 
leaves on the spreading branches not yet turned to the bright copper color they 
would wear later in the season.

: You should be in the Shire. : He thought with wonder, moving to brush the 
mottled bark with his fingers.

“Is there no end to the accursed forest?” Thorin growled suddenly, his eyes 
sweeping the seemingly endless circle of trees surrounding them. Then his gaze 
fell upon Bilbo who was smiling up into the oak tree’s interlaced branches high 
above his curly head.

“Somebody must climb a tree and see if he can get his head above the roof and 
have a look round. The only way is to choose the tallest tree that overhangs the 
path.”

As one the Dwarves turned to look at Bilbo.

The Hobbit turned to them, looking bewildered.

“What? Oh, dear. My good Dwarves, surely you cannot mean for me to _”

“Mr. Baggins, that is precisely what we mean.” Thorin continued. “You are the 
only one who is light enough to climb to the top and see exactly where we are. 
And hopefully see the way out of here.”

: You mean that I am the expendable one. : Bilbo thought bitterly as the Dwarves 
clustered about him and hoisted him into the lower branches. : And if I fell it 
wouldn’t really matter to the rest of you as long as I told you the way out 
before I hit the ground. : But he merely sighed and grabbed at the branches. It 
did no good to argue with Thorin Oakenshield. Since Bilbo didn’t have much 
experience climbing trees it wasn’t that easy at first. He clambered his way 
upward, hands and feet slipping on the greenish bark.

: What if one of those web spinners lived up here? : He wondered with a chill of 
fear running up his spine. But as he gazed upward, he saw nothing furry or hairy 
or large enough to be the creature that had made the thick webs. So he continued 
on.

Once he slipped altogether and barely managed to stop himself from plummeting to 
the ground. He stood on a stout branch hugging the tree’s trunk, panting with 
fear.

“Hobbits are not made for this.” He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut when he made 
the mistake of looking down. But finally - after what he was sure was hours and 
hours of climbing - he poked his head through the topmost leaves and felt the 
sun on his face for the first time since they had entered Mirkwood. He smiled, 
blinking at the sunlight that embraced him. He even laughed, when at last his 
eyes adjusted to the brilliance, at the small spiders that did inhabit these top 
branches.

“To think I was afraid of what I might find here.” He chuckled watching them 
scurry away from him.

And - oh! The butterflies! Hundreds of butterflies floated all about him born on 
the air by their dark velvety black wings.

Oh, it was glorious up here. He could barely hear the calls of the Dwarves 
below. It was quite easy to ignore them at this height. A cool breeze ruffled 
his hair and caressed his face. Glorious indeed.

But eventually the cries of the Dwarves intruded and he opened his eyes once 
more and peered about, remembering why he was here in the first place.

As far as he could see in any direction was an endless green sea.

“Oh, bother.” He muttered, listening to his stomach growl. “Maybe there is no 
way out of this forest and we will just wander about forever until we collapse 
from hunger and thirst.” He sighed, watching a butterfly flit about his face and 
finally settle on his hand. When it fluttered away he began his descent.

As he reached the ground, he dug Elrond’s handkerchief from his pocket and wiped 
his hot face. He noticed the scratches on his hands, but thought nothing of 
them. Misery at his report overwhelmed him. All the joy he had experienced in 
the sun and breeze, surrounded by butterflies and green leaves, was gone. He 
quickly told the others what he had seen, and their hope died as well.

“The forest goes on for ever and ever and ever in all directions.” The Dwarves 
complained. “Whatever shall we do? And what is the use of sending a Hobbit!” 
They muttered, frowning at their burglar.

They didn’t seem interested in the butterflies or the cool breeze, which only 
seemed to upset them more.

“You could climb up there for yourselves.” He said at last. “Perhaps one of you 
might see the way out.”

But the Dwarves only glared at him and continued to complain.

Bilbo shook his head in consternation.

“Bothersome Dwarves.” He mumbled, heading away from them and plopped down 
beneath another tree and pulled out his pipe. He didn’t fill the bowl as full as 
he would have liked, since he wanted his pipeweed to last a while longer yet. 
But as the smoke filled the air, his eyes closing, he enjoyed a little of what 
he had felt in the top of the oak tree return. He smiled.


“Why are they always smoking?” Brethil said, wrinkling his nose as the three 
watched from their perch not far away.

“And complaining. And bickering. And - “

“Enough, Tavor. I think we understand what you are saying.” Legolas sighed, 
shooting a glance at his friend.

Tavor smiled lazily and shrugged.

“They do make an inordinate amount of noise you must admit. And I needn’t remind 
you, my prince, that they are getting awfully close to - “

“I know, Tavor. I know.” Legolas scowled down at the Dwarves. Why hadn’t they 
left the forest yet? They were getting too close to his father’s Hall for 
comfort.

Thranduil enjoyed his excursions to the east and his hunting forays deeper into 
Mirkwood. He usually came in this direction, south of his Hall. What would 
happen then? Could he trust that he, Tavor, and Brethil would all be able to 
keep silent about their knowledge of these Dwarves, if his father happened them 
upon? His eyes slid to his two friends. Tavor would probably be able to keep 
from saying anything incriminating, but Brethil…

Legolas frowned and looked away. Discretion was not one of the younger Elf’s 
strong points. He could easily let slip everything he knew. And if confronted by 
Thranduil outright…

: We don’t stand a chance. : He thought despairingly. : Why don’t they just 
leave the forest?! :

Below them the Dwarves continued their growling and gripping. And Bilbo puffed 
quietly away on his pipe, content at least for the moment, remembering the sun, 
the breeze, and the butterflies. 



Chapter 3 - Hunger, Thirst, Orcs Singing, and Bombur Snoring

“Eggs and bacon; toast with jam - raspberry jam; pancakes drenched with rich 
brown syrup; slices of apple dipped in honey; strawberries in cream - “

“Would you please not talk about food, Bilbo.” Gloin called to the Hobbit.

They were all in a bad mood that morning as they prepared to set out again. They 
had eaten the last bite of food the evening before and now far overhead they 
could hear rain pattering on the leaves. But only the occasional drop made its 
torturous way to the forest floor. This only served to remind them of their 
thirst.

“Accursed forest.” Thorin croaked as he pulled his hood up about his face.

“It’s your turn to help carry Bombur.” Dwalin said to Bifur as they surveyed 
their still slumbering companion.

“Will he ever wake up? How many days has it been? My arms and back are still 
sore from the last time I carried him.”

Dwalin snorted adjusting his pack straps.

“I don’t recall. All the days seem much the same to me. Hunger, thirst, Orcs 
singing, Bombur snoring.” He shrugged.

“Who is snoring?”

Everyone started and turned to stare at the sleeping Dwarf who had just spoken.

His eyes popped open and he sat up, scratching his head.

“My goodness!” he exclaimed. “Where are we? Why are we sitting in a forest?”

They gaped at him in ill concealed astonishment.

“You’re awake!” Ori squeaked, dropping his pack to the ground.

“Of course I am. Where are we?” he repeated climbing to his feet. “What is there 
to eat, Mr. Baggins? What have we left in your cupboards? Is there any pork pie 
left? It was quite excellent.” His brows furrowed. “Why are you all staring at 
me? When did we decide to have a picnic?” He glanced about in bewilderment. 
“Rather a gloomy place for a picnic really.”

Thorin was the first to find his voice.

“Bombur, don’t you know where we are?”

The fat Dwarf blinked, his eyes scanning the trees.

“The woods near Mr. Baggins’ house, is my guess. But why are we picnicking? I do 
believe it is starting to rain.”

“Bombur, don’t you remember falling into that black stream? When the deer jumped 
over your head.”

“What black stream? What are you speaking of, Thorin?”

The other Dwarves and Bilbo glanced uneasily at one another.

“You don’t remember the Trolls, Bombur?” Gloin asked his face troubled.

“Or the Goblins?”

“The Eagles?”

“The fire?”

“The Wolves?”

“Beorn’s house? Surely you remember that. We ate quite well there.”

Bombur stared at them stupefied.

“I am certain that if we ate well there, I would remember it.” he said after a 
moment, feeling rather cross.

“I guess we’d better tell him everything.” Bilbo suggested, settling on the 
ground wishing he had something to chew on as they told the Dwarf the long tale 
of their adventures since leaving Bag End. He wondered how oak leaves tasted.

After all was told, and a long exciting tale it was, and Bombur was informed 
that they were out of food, he dropped heavily to the ground and began to weep 
into his hands.

“Why did I ever wake up! I was having such beautiful dreams. I dreamed I was 
walking in a forest rather like this one…”

“You were being carried through a forest rather like this one.” Dori said under 
his breath. Being the strongest one had its drawbacks.

“Only lit with torches on the trees and lamps swinging from the branches and 
fires burning on the ground; and there was a great feast going on -“

Several of Bilbo’s companions groaned at this and the Hobbit’s stomach rumbled 
unhappily at this reminder of the depravity it was suffering. The oak leaves 
were starting to look rather tasty.

“Going on forever.” Bombur smiled slightly, though he clutched his own empty 
stomach. Dream food wasn’t very substantial. “A woodland king was there with a 
crown of leaves, and there was a merry singing - “

“He heard the Orcs, too.” Oin whispered, tugging nervously at his beard.

“…and I could not count or describe the things there were to eat and drink.”

“You need not try.” Thorin interrupted with a fierce scowl. “In fact if you 
can’t talk of something else, you had better be silent. We are quite annoyed 
enough with you as it is.”

There were many rumbles of assent to this statement and an especially loud snort 
from Dori.

“If you hadn’t waked up, we should have left you to your idiotic dreams in the 
forest; you are no joke to carry even after weeks of short commons.” Thorin 
stood suddenly and pulled on his woefully light pack.

The others followed suit, ignoring poor Bombur who complained that his legs 
didn’t fell quite right and he wasn’t certain that he could go on. After all, he 
reminded them. They had eaten food that rightfully should have been his. They 
all turned and glared so fiercely at him that he whimpered and picked up his own 
pack and slung it disconsolately over his shoulder. Suddenly several packs hit 
him in the back. Twelve to be exact. Only Bilbo had kept his, not wanting to 
take a chance at loosing what few things he still possessed in case Bombur fell 
into another stream.

“Why did you do that?” Bombur whined.

“Because you are going to carry them all.” Thorin said, with a grin. “You owe us 
that much for making us carry you for so long.” And with that he strode off with 
great purpose.

The other Dwarves grinned at one another, a few slapping Bombur on the back as 
they passed him, rather harder than was necessary in some cases. Bilbo couldn’t 
suppress the smile that teased at his lips as he walked by the whimpering Dwarf 
who had bent to pick up the packs and was trying to arrange them suitably.

“This isn’t fair.” he moaned. “I haven’t eaten for days. Please, Thorin. I am 
too weak to carry all these packs.”

“Then go back to sleep and maybe Oin’s singing Orcs will come and feed you. That 
is if they don’t eat you.”

“Singing Orcs?!” Bombur gasped, straightening suddenly and staring wildly into 
the trees. “Eat me! Wait! Wait!” He threw the packs round his shoulders and 
hurried after them, stumbling in his haste as he looked back over his shoulder 
as though he feared an entire hoard of Orcs was chasing him.



“That poor Dwarf.” Brethil breathed, staring after Bombur with pity. “Couldn’t 
we just give - “

“No!” Both Legolas and Tavor hissed, gazing at him in disgust.

“Why not? I just thought - “

“Don’t think, Brethil. It will be your undoing.”

The younger Elf glared at Tavor.

“You at least should feel sorry for him. After all you fell into Morn Nen [Black 
Stream] once yourself.”

“What are you talking about, Brethil?”

Brethil looked at Legolas who was smiling widely. Tavor also turned to his 
prince and was not amused by what he saw in those sparkling blue eyes.

“I did not fall into Morn Nen.” he stated. “Don’t you think I would remember if 
I had?”

“No!”

Both Legolas and Brethil burst into amused laughter.

“You are making this up.” Tavor declared in an insulted voice.

“No, we are not. Don’t you remember when you, Legolas, Glamren, Darthannan, and 
I tied a rope across Morn Nen and dared each other to walk across it?”

Tavor’s eyes widened, his nostrils flaring. He searched his memory frantically 
for any glimmering that what Brethil was saying was true - or as he fervently 
hoped - not true. He studied their fair faces intently.

“I don’t believe you.” he said finally, turning away from them. “You are both 
enjoying this far too much for it to be true.” : Or, : he thought glumly. : Are 
they enjoying themselves so much because it is true? :

“I told you that he wouldn’t remember, Brethil.” Legolas grinned, his eyes 
suddenly gleaming with a wicked light. “And to think that you were so worried 
that he would recall that you pushed him in just as he reached the edge.”

“What?!” Tavor wheeled on Brethil, his eyes narrowing in anger.

“Legolas! You said you wouldn’t tell him!” Brethil backed slowly away from Tavor 
who began to advance on him slowly, his fist clenched.

“Oops! I guess I forgot.”

“Brethil! How could you push me into Morn Nen! You will pay for that!” Tavor 
leapt after the younger Elf.

“But Tavor! You don’t even remember it!” Brethil sprinted away, running as hard 
as he could, knowing that he could never outrace his friend. He never could.

Legolas laughed loudly, feeling that the debt they owed for calling him a 
singing Orc prince was paid. He loped after them laughing and singing.



Bilbo was walking behind the Dwarves, his smoke the day before and the memory of 
his time in the top of the tree having worked to calm his frayed nerves. And of 
course Bombur’s awakening. It was a relief not to hear his snoring after so 
long. Though now he was whimpering and complaining.

:Ah, well. : Bilbo though cheerily. : At least he is awake and the others will 
stop complaining about carrying him. One Dwarf complaining is a lot better than 
twelve. :

He had been humming snatches of songs to help keep his mind from his groaning 
stomach. He thought of songs sung in the Shire, happy folk tunes that made him 
bounce as he walked; then the songs of the Dwarves so different and stirring. 
That was partly to blame for his being here now: the stirring of his Took blood 
that night so long ago in May when he had an unexpected party with thirteen 
Dwarves and a Wizard. Then his mind turned to the music he had heard while they 
were at the Last Homely Home in Rivendell.

Elves’ music was different from Hobbit music; or Dwarf music; or for that matter 
Goblin music. And as Bilbo turned this over in his mind, something struck him. 
The Elves of Rivendell were always full of laughter and merriment. And singing. 
He tired to recall some of the words that the “Orcs” had sung, comparing them to 
words he had heard and in some cases learned in Elrond’s valley.

“Um, Thorin?”

“What is it, Mr. Baggins?”

“What is the Elvish word for Dwarves?”

“Elvish word? What makes you think that I know any Elvish words?”

“Such a well traveled person as yourself must surely have picked up a few words 
here and there.” Bilbo allowed himself a small smile. He was learning how to 
handle these Dwarves. And flattery never hurt.

“Well, perhaps I have. Let me see.” Thorin furrowed his brows in deep thought.

“Would it by any chance by - uh - Anfang?”

“Well, yes. I do believe that you are right. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was just thinking. Do you remember the singing Orcs?”

“No.” Bombur muttered. He had just managed to catch up to the others and was 
panting slightly. Even nearly empty packs could be oppressive if one hadn’t 
eaten in what seemed like a lifetime.

“Well, I was wondering if perhaps it wasn’t Orcs at all.”

“Of course it was.” Oin spoke up, nervously eyeing the trees.

“I hate to disagree with you, but I don’t think it was, Oin. I think it was 
Elves.”

“Elves? What makes you think that?” Thorin asked.

“Well, I was remembering all the wonderful songs we heard in Rivendell. 
Beautiful songs in Elvish. It seems very similar to what Oin’s Orcs were 
singing. The words, I mean, not the tunes. And well I thought there was one word 
that figured rather prominently in one of the songs we heard here. Anfang. And 
you just said that was the Elvish word for Dwarves. I think they were singing 
about us.”

“About us? Whatever for? I think that is ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, Thorin.” Gloin said, as Kili and Fili nodded in agreement. 
“Perhaps he is right.”

Balin and Dwalin glanced at one another then shrugged.

“We did hear Elves singing in Rivendell and they sounded nothing like that.” Oin 
said, not liking the fact that his grand thought about singing Orcs was proving 
to be wrong. Not that he wanted there to Orcs about, singing or otherwise.

“That is not surprising.” Thorin interjected. “Not that I am saying that it was 
Elves singing, mind you. Only that any Elves living in this horrid place would 
not sound the same as Elves living in Rivendell. Their music would be - “ he 
paused.

Strange and eerie. The words drifted through his brain.

: Hmph! :

But then a rather disturbing thought presented itself to him.

: Old wicked Thranduil’s people. That doesn’t surprise me. Perhaps the Burglar 
is right after all.: But then another thought surfaced, much more unsettling. : 
If he finds out where we are headed and why he will want a part of it, that 
greedy Elf! Probably think it is due to him or something. Well, we must avoid 
that at all costs then! :

“Well, yes,” he finally said. “Strange and eerie. Perhaps it is Mirkwood Elves 
after all.” He snorted suddenly. “And that’s just as bad as singing Orcs in my 
book.”


“What did he just say?” Tavor bristled.

“I think he said that we are just as bad as singing Orcs.” Brethil whispered.

Legolas scowled. He had been impressed that the furry-footed one had figured out 
that it was Elves chasing them with laughter and strange and eerie songs. But 
really!

“I hope my father does find them.” He growled, his eyes following them filled 
with great dislike. “ Just as bad as singing Orcs indeed.” 



Chapter 4 - And Some Flowers For Your Hair



“You don’t really mean that, do you?” Brethil said quietly, staring at Legolas.

“Of course he doesn’t. Do you? Legolas, I thought we all agreed that it would be 
best if your father doesn’t know about the Dwarves.”

Legolas drew a deep breath and sighed.

“I know. I didn’t really mean it. Only - well, I am getting tired of being 
insulted by Dwarves.”

“Well, there is that.” Tavor said with a grin. “It is so much better to be 
insulted by your friends.”

Mirkwood’s prince shot a glance at his friend and then laughed lightly.

“Aye. Let’s go. Perhaps we will leave them to their own devices for a while. You 
do remember what tonight is, don’t you?”

Brethil’s brows knit then his eyes brightened.

“Oh, yes! Let’s go! Autumn feasting! You do remember that, don’t you, Tavor?”

“Oh, shut up, Brethil. Merrymaking versus Dwarves. Not much of a contest really. 
Though this has been fun.” He grinned and slapped his companions on the 
shoulders. “Well, my fellow singing Orcs let us move on to bigger and better 
things.”

“They…uh, the Dwarves won’t be following us, will they?”

“Brethil, we were following them, not vice versa. Come now. I am for merrymaking 
of every sort. Let us go. Besides they are quite far from the clearings and have 
not once strayed off this path. They’ve probably been warned by someone about 
the fell denizens of Mirkwood.” He contorted his face into an ugly mask, 
sticking his tongue out at Brethil.

“Yes, You are probably right. And it will be good to eat something other than 
dried rations. Let us go.”

He walked arm in arm with Tavor and Legolas, but then he looked back.

“Couldn’t we just give them - “

“No, Brethil!”

“Oh, alright.”

The three soon picked up their pace, laughing and singing headed for the 
clearings.



“Roast chicken; ham drizzled with honey; mince-pies; tarts; pork pie…” Bilbo 
trudged along the songs forgotten and the food list begun again. He felt that 
this whole adventure was poorly planned and that if only they had something to 
eat - “Seed cakes.” - they would be making out so much better. Or something to 
drink. Just one glass of cool water would make all the difference. But there was 
no water and there was no food. “Bothersome Dwarves and their confounded 
adventures. We will never make it out of this forest, let alone all the way to 
the Lonely Mountain. Why did I ever agree to this?” Normally Mr. Baggins was not 
one to complain, but the urge to do so now, and quite loudly, was almost 
overwhelming.

The Dwarves were complaining quite bitterly and Bombur was trudging along just 
ahead of the Hobbit, moaning about his legs; the packs; his empty stomach. 
(“They really shouldn’t have eaten my share of the food. They are so cruel and 
heartless. They don’t care for me at all.”), his tired hot feet; his need to 
just lie down for a while and sleep; his empty stomach. (“They should have left 
me a scrap of bread. That is the least they could have done. But no! They 
devoured it all. Greedy lot!”), the oppressive atmosphere here beneath the 
never-ending trees. And of course, his empty stomach. (“I wonder what oak leaves 
taste like.”)

Suddenly he stopped, nearly causing Bilbo to stumble over him. He flung himself 
to the ground like a petulant child, his lower lip thrust out.

“Go on, if you must. I’m just going to lie here and sleep and dream of food, if 
I can’t get it any other way. I hope I never wake up again.” He said, looking up 
to see if anyone was watching him.

Several of the Dwarves turned to glance at him, but they did nothing to persuade 
him to stand and continue on.

: They do want me to sleep and never wake up. : He thought morosely. : Cruel 
heartless things. To think I thought they were my friends when all along - :

Suddenly Balin, who was someway ahead of the others called back to them.

“What was that? I thought I saw a twinkle of lights in the forest.”

They all strained their eyes in the direction that Balin indicated and -yes - a 
long way off in the trees they saw a red twinkling and then as they watched more 
appeared, like someone lighting candles all in a row.

They glanced at one another in excitement and hurried off down the path.

Bombur climbed to his feet - Bilbo kindly lending him a hand - and the two 
followed after.

The light was in front of them to the left. In the haste of their excitement 
they didn’t even stop to wonder if perhaps it was Trolls or Goblins. It seemed 
that Bert, William, and Tom - the three Trolls that had nearly eaten them - were 
forgotten. When at last they drew level with it, they suddenly realized that the 
light was torches and fires beneath the trees. But it was some distance off the 
path.

Bombur gasped as he pulled up beside them.

“It looks as if my dreams were coming true.” He started to jump forward, but 
Dori grabbed his sleeve.

“A feast would be no good, if we never got back alive from it.” Thorin said 
grimly.

“And both Beorn and Gandalf told us to stay on the path. Not to stray from it at 
all.” Oin piped in. He felt that there were Orcs or Goblins out there somewhere, 
just waiting for them to make one false move and then - He shuddered and 
abruptly cut the thought off.

“But without a feast we shan’t remain alive much longer, anyway.” Bombur 
insisted firmly. They owed him this feast. Yes, they did!

Bilbo found himself nodding in agreement. They did need to eat and perhaps it 
wasn’t that far off the path. Perhaps.

“No!” Thorin said firmly. “And you really have no say in this, Bombur, seeing as 
how you’ve slept through a great deal of this and can’t even remember the rest. 
So be still.” The son of Thrain II had a nasty feeling that he knew what those 
fires meant. And he was not ready - not quite yet - to beg food from the Elves.

“I think that Bombur is right. We need food, Thorin. We can’t continue on like 
this.” Bofur said, tugging slightly on his yellow hood.

“I don’t know.” Bifur said. “Gandalf did say to stay on the path. Who knows what 
is out there.”

“Well, I think that a quick death at the hands of a Goblin, Orc, or Troll would 
be preferable to this prolonged starvation.”

“But you heard Beorn -“

“I’m hungry!”

“But Gandalf said -“

The arguments went on for some time getting louder and louder until finally 
someone suggested that they send a couple of spies to find out who had made the 
fires. But then they argued as to who should be sent. And the ones chosen always 
declined.

“Bombur should go. This is mostly his fault anyway.”

“I will not go. I have been through quite enough already.”

“He’d eat all the food before we arrived. We can’t send him.”

“Send Dori. He’s the strongest. He can handle whatever is out there.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. I won’t do it.”

“Then perhaps none of us should go. We can’t leave the path. Gandalf said -“

“Yes, well, Gandalf isn’t here, is he? He’s probably sitting at a nice inn 
somewhere with a plate full of hot food and a glass of ale, smoking away happy 
as ever. While we stand here and starve.”

“Since it is just like my dreams we should go. There was such wondrous food. Let 
me tell you …”

In the end they all went. No one could resist the temptation of what Bombur was 
telling them.

: I won’t beg food from an Elf. : Thorin told himself sternly. : From a Troll, 
perhaps. But not an Elf. :

As they moved into the forest, Bilbo hesitated. Though his stomach told him to 
move forward quickly, he stood for a moment.

“DON’T LEAVE THE PATH.”

Gandalf’s last words to the little company carried across his brain.

“I am sorry, Gandalf. It would appear we have no choice.” He whispered, 
wondering where the Wizard was and why he kept disappearing on them. He picked 
up one furry foot and moved off the path into the darkness beyond.



Earlier that evening as the clouds cleared away and streaks of gold and lavender 
colored the sky, Legolas, Tavor, and Brethil wandered into a clearing in the 
trees ringed with sawn tree trunks. The first of the night’s celebrations would 
be held here. The grass was still a vibrant green, studded with tiny flowers. 
This was one of the many places filled with the magic of the Wood Elves. It was 
a peaceful place made for merriment and laughter, singing and eating. And there 
would be plenty of it all this night. Torches were fastened to the trees in 
preparation for the feast. Several Elves had already gathered here and were 
talking and laughing happily with one another. They were dressed in the 
comfortable browns and greens most of the Wood Elves favored. They turned to 
greet the prince and his friends. Brethil immediately moved to join a small 
group and Legolas sent Tavor after him to keep him quiet.

“Well, nin caun. [my prince] Where have you three been these past days?”

Legolas turned to see Mirkwood’s Master Archer standing behind him, arms folded 
over his chest.

Long silver hair fell over the old Elf’s shoulders, his blue eyes sharp and 
bright as a hawk’s. He missed nothing and Legolas felt a tremor of apprehension. 
Perhaps Tavor better come and keep him quiet.

“Maer aduial, Tanglinna.” [Good evening] He said, pressing his hand to his heart 
in greeting.

“Maer aduial, Prince Legolas. Where have you three been these past days?”

: I knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. : Legolas thought, wondering what to 
say that would satisfy the Master Archer.

“We were just wandering about. We killed some spiders just east of Morn Nen. And 
- uh - Oh! Yes. We told Tavor about his falling into it once. Do you remember 
that? You should have seen his face when we told him.” Legolas laughed lightly. 
“He was not very pleased to learn of it. Of course he denied it at first, but 
then why would he remember it since -“

Tanglinna cleared his throat and arched one eyebrow.

“You are trying very hard not to tell me something, aren’t you, Prince Legolas?”

Legolas swallowed and shook his head, shrugging his shoulders helplessly, and 
looking behind him to where Tavor and Brethil were standing a few feet away 
laughing and talking totally unaware of his great need for their help.

“I see.” Tanglinna said smoothly, a smile quirking his lips. “Perhaps you fell 
into Morn Nen this time and you’ve forgotten where you’ve been.”

“No. Well…”

Tanglinna shook his head and grinned, slapping his prince on the arm.

“I’m sure it will all come out in time. But for now I have something to tell 
you.”

Relief swept through him. He wasn’t ready for a confrontation just yet. He 
needed time to think of a plausible story if questioned again about their 
activities of the past days.

Tanglinna, following his line of thought quite easily, felt laughter bubbling up 
inside. You won’t be so happy when I tell you what you have been instructed to 
do this night. He took the younger Elf’s arm lightly and steered him across the 
clearing.

“King Thranduil, your lord father, bids you join him for his feast in the Gelir 
Angol Dor. [Merry Magic Place] It is to be a much more formal affair than this 
one.”

At the word formal, Tanglinna noticed the widening of Legolas’ eyes and the 
flicker of anxiety that passed through them. He forbade the laugh in his throat 
to emerge and continued.

“I have brought your clothes with me. Some how your father knew you would 
probably be showing up here today. The king is good and wise.”

“What clothes?” Legolas asked in a small voice.

“Ah, here they are.”

Legolas grimaced. He did not enjoy formal occasions and he did not like the 
clothing that he was required to wear. But his father did enjoy the fussiness 
and formality and insisted that all his offspring bow to his whims and wishes.

A long pale green silk robe was laid out on the grass, it’s stiff silver collar 
encrusted with the white gems his father preferred. The flowing sleeves were 
gathered at the wrists where more gems sparkled. A silver belt, also studded 
with gems lay beside it. Fair pale green shoes and leggings embroidered with a 
tracery of silver threads also awaited him.

“Tanglinna, I -“

But the archer stopped him.

“Your father commands it, my prince.” He said with a smirk.

“But Tanglinna, I - “

“You had better dress, your father is expecting you.”

Legolas scowled and took off his weapons. Grumbling he stripped off his 
comfortable hunting leathers and pulled on the ridiculous flowing garments.

He turned to see the grand amusement in the Master Archer’s eyes.

“You look most, uh, beautiful, my prince.” He choked out.

“I look like a girl!” Legolas spat in disgust, waving his arms and watching the 
full sleeves billow out. “This is ridiculous. I think father just does this to 
torture me.” He shook his head and turned to leave.

Tanglinna gathered up the weapons and discarded clothing.

“You’re not quite ready, my prince. One more thing is required.”

Legolas turned to look at him.

“What else could this outfit possibly require?”

Tanglinna inclined his head toward a tree nearby. Hanging in its branches were 
delicate wreaths of small green leaves and berries trailing strands of white 
flowers.

“For your hair.” He said, then turned and fled, his delighted laughter filling 
the cool evening air.



Chapter 5 - Roast Venison and Elf Maidens With Hair of Gold



“Oh, great Valar! Do you see what I see?”

Brethil turned at Tavor’s words, taking a sip of wine from the silver goblet in 
his hands. When he saw what Tavor was pointing at, his face filled with such 
glee, the young Elf gasped, choking on the wine.

“I don’t believe it.” Tavor continued, laying aside the sweet bread he had been 
eating.

Brethil straightened from his coughing fit and stared across the clearing in 
amazement and delight.

“I will never let him forget this.” Tavor said, folding his arms across his 
chest.

As Legolas stalked out of the trees a hush came over the assembled Elves. They 
were all aware of how much their youngest prince disliked dressing for his 
father’s formal affairs and some of them even felt a certain sympathy for him. 
But the sight of him dressed in flowing pale green robes glittering with silver 
and fair jewels; a wreath of leaves, berries and flowers clenched in one fist; 
and a scowl as formidable as one of his father’s was enough to send them into 
paroxysms of laughter.

Legolas glared at them all, his blue eyes fiery bright and fierce.

“I think we’d better push him into Morn Nen after this night. I am certain he 
will wish to forget it.” Brethil laughed into Tavor’s ear.

His face red and burning with embarrassment and frustration, Legolas moved to 
join his two closest friends.

“Do not say one word to me, either of you. Or you will pay dearly.”

Brethil bit his lips, giggling helplessly and ended up clapping his hand over 
his mouth and turning away. But Tavor merely smirked and raised one fair 
eyebrow.

“What one word would you not have me say? Truly, you look…stunning. I must say 
that I have never seen you looking better. In fact,” he leaned back surveying 
the glowering prince. “If you don’t mind, I think perhaps my sister would like 
to borrow that outfit sometime.”

Legolas bared his teeth and thrust the wreath into Tavor’s chest.

“Don’t talk to me!” He hissed and turned away in a swirl of green silk and 
blonde hair.

Brethil, gasping slightly, turned back to watch him go.

“Uh, Legolas! You forgot your flowers!” He called, snatching the wreath from 
Tavor, whose eyes were sparkling brightly.

“Come on, Brethil.” He said, draining his goblet in one swallow. “We’d better go 
comfort our pouting princess.”

Brethil giggled again and, placing the wreath on his own head, followed at 
Tavor’s heels.

Legolas had seated himself on one of the sawn tree trunks and was staring 
moodily at the area in the center of the clearing. He turned his head away 
slightly as the two came to sit on either side of him.

“Cheer up, Legolas. It could be worse.” Tavor soothed, patting his friend’s 
knee.

Brethil started to laugh again, but a sharp look from his prince made him force 
his mirth down for the moment.

“Yes, Legolas. Tavor is right. It could be worse.” He felt the giggles coming on 
again. “But I don’t know how.” He burst out laughing once more, nearly toppling 
from his seat.

“Ignore him, Legolas. You know how he gets. Really, it is quite a nice outfit. 
And it could indeed be worse. It could be, uh, pink.”

“Pink!” Brethil choked. “It should be blue though. To match your eyes.”

Tavor bit back the laughter that surfaced and turned a stern face to the young 
Elf.

“Go fetch him some wine, why don’t you, Brethil. And give him back his wreath 
please.”

Brethil stood then bowed gracefully handing Legolas the wreath. He grinned and 
rushed away.

“Don’t let him bother you, Legolas. You know how he is. And it is a good color 
on you.” Tavor commiserated, leaning back on the seat and staring at the sky. It 
was probably wise to change the subject. It wasn’t prudent to tease the prince 
overmuch. He swallowed a bubble of mirth and turned to Legolas. “I saw Tanglinna 
speaking with you earlier. Does he suspect?”

Legolas snorted, fingers caressing the berries and leaves. He could feel his bad 
mood dissipating slowly. He knew he looked ridiculous and he also knew that he 
would have laughed at anyone else dressed this way. And probably would before 
the evening was over. He shrugged, smiling slightly.

“Of course he does. He’s like my father. They seem to know everything.”

Suddenly a fire leapt up in the center and the torches ignited one by one around 
the clearing. Cheers, singing, laughter and clapping filled the clearing. Tavor 
and Legolas stood, both smiling. No one could be upset in this atmosphere for 
long. The first of the autumn feasts had begun!



The Dwarves and Bilbo crawled on their hands and knees though the dead leaves 
and moss toward the clearing, which was glowing brightly in the night. The sound 
of laughter drifted to them and soft singing.

“It’s not Orcs and Goblins, is it?” Oin whispered.

“Of course not.” Nori hissed. “Be still! And back up a bit. You’re right on top 
of me!”

Bombur crawled beside Bilbo, smiling happily.

“Oh, Bilbo, do you suppose that they will have pork pie? I don’t recall any in 
my dreams, but I suppose they might. Don’t you think so?”

“I’ll take any kind of pie they care to give me.” Bilbo said. “Though it smells 
like roast venison.”

“Quiet!” Thorin growled. “We are nearly there.”

They crept to the edge of the glade, peering in at the festivities from behind 
the trees that ringed it.

“Elves.” Bilbo breathed and smiled at Bombur who smiled back. “I knew it!”

“I am glad that you were right, Bilbo.” Bombur said quietly. He found he rather 
liked the Hobbit. And he remembered that Bilbo hadn’t made him carry his pack.

The Dwarves stared hungrily into the clearing and Thorin felt his stomach pinch 
with hunger.

: Dratted Elves. I won’t beg food from an Elf. :

But as the smell of roasting meat reached his nose he felt his resolve 
crumbling. The others glanced at him, their eyes pleading.

“Accursed Elves!” he muttered.

At that moment Brethil happened to turn, his gaze going to the trees just beyond 
the firelight.

“Uh…Legolas? Tavor?”

But the two were laughing and drinking the sweet berry wine, feeling quite happy 
and didn’t hear him. They were admiring Legolas flowing sleeves and remarking 
how the jewels sparkled so fetchingly in the firelight.

“Legolas? I think that -“

Suddenly thirteen Dwarves and one Hobbit scrambled from behind the trees into 
the clearing.

“The Dwarves are here!” Brethil hissed.

His two friends spun toward him, their eyes falling on the on the small rushing 
figures. Then they turned to look at one another with stricken faces. The huge 
fire suddenly shot upward like Gandalf’s rockets into the night sky in a glimmer 
of sparks and the torches puffed out one by one.

Thorin and Company suddenly found themselves engulfed in total darkness.

“What is happening?” Oin cried. “What is happening!”

They all scrambled frantically, falling over the tree trunk seats and fallen 
logs. Their feet became entangled in the growth of ivy and woodbine at the 
tree’s edge.

“Stop!” Thorin commanded them, hearing all the crashing and cries about him. 
“Stop!”

But it was too late. They had run pell-mell back into the surrounding trees.

“Stop! You must stop!”

But for some reason they didn’t heed him.

“Dratted Elves! This is all their fault!” And with that Thorin headed into the 
greater darkness.



The second autumn feast was held in a larger clearing and more Elves were in 
attendance. If possible this one was much merrier and laughter and song flowed 
into the night.

Legolas, Tavor, and Brethil stood in a small knot, the only three unaffected by 
the spirit of mirth and lightness that prevailed this night amongst the Mirkwood 
Elves. They each held silver goblets, but the wine inside was untouched.

“I thought you said those Dwarves weren’t following us!” Brethil said 
accusingly, his grey eyes dancing with apprehension.

“They didn’t follow us, Brethil. We are Wood Elves. No one follows us unless we 
want them to.” Tavor stated sternly.

“What about that pack of Wargs out by the western edge? They followed us easily 
enough.”

“The Wargs were different, Brethil. They are much more intelligent than 
Dwarves.” Tavor sniffed, feigning nonchalance though his heart raced and his 
eyes darted about the glade fearing to see Dwarves tumbling into this party.

“Be quiet! Both of you!” Legolas hissed. “Tanglinna is watching us.”

Brethil, of course, swung his head toward the Master Archer who was standing 
several feet away, his bright eyes on the three young Elves. He smiled weakly 
and waved.

“You are such a Troll, Brethil. I’m sure that he knows we are up to nothing at 
all now. Thank you so much.”

“What? I didn’t do anything, Tavor.” Brethil was feeling very put upon. It was 
hard to be the youngest of this trio at times.

“Just…don’t look at him any more. Alright?” Legolas soothed, raising the goblet 
to his lips. “Why did the Dwarves leave the path? They hadn’t up until now.”

Tavor shrugged, his eyes sliding to Tanglinna, who continued to watch them. Had 
he perhaps moved slightly closer?

“They probably heard the laughter.” Legolas said, an uneasy feeling filling him. 
What if they did manage to track them here? What if they managed to find his 
father’s feast? He groaned slightly and gulped the rest of the wine down, 
feeling it buzz pleasantly in his head.

“They probably smelled the food.” Tavor speculated. “They were rather hungry. 
And rather obsessed with food. Especially that furry- footed one.”

“I told you we should have given them something to eat!” Brethil announced, 
looking at the two of them in exasperation. “If you had but listened to me - “

“Oh, do be quiet, Brethil. There is nothing to be done about it now. Hopefully 
they got so frightened that they scampered back to the path and are fleeing down 
it this very moment.” But his eyes scanned the trees and the darkness beyond.

It was sometime later that, after much wine and food, the three began to relax. 
There had been no sign of the Dwarves. Perhaps all would be well.

But as Brethil was singing a merry tune his eyes chanced upon a movement in the 
trees. His voice faltered.

“Uh, Legolas? Tavor?”



Thorin and Company had managed to gather themselves all together at last. They 
were very relieved that none were lost or badly hurt, though all were scraped 
and bruised.

“What are we to do?” Bombur asked.

“What is there to do?” Balin said. “We can’t do anything in this darkness. We’ll 
only get lost again. And none of us wants that.”

“Which way is the path?”

“We should never have gone off the path.”

“Gandalf told us not to leave the path. Beorn warned us, didn’t he?”

“Maybe there is some food on the ground here. They left in such a hurry, surely 
they must have dropped something.” Ori piped up. He dropped to his knees hands 
frantically searching the ground for any small scrape of sustenance.

“No, Ori! Get up. You will only become lost again.” Thorin was now in charge 
once more. “Everyone must lie down where he is and not move until it is his 
watch or morning comes. Dori, you may take the first watch. Alert us if anything 
happens.”

Everyone reluctantly obeyed, their stomachs aching with hunger made much worse 
by having smelled food earlier.

“Did you see that beautiful Elf maiden dressed all in sparkly green, holding a 
wreath of flowers? Her hair was like spun gold.” Gloin said quietly. “I never 
knew Elves could be so beautiful.”

“Don’t tell me that you are falling for an Elf, Gloin?” Fili giggled.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Gloin pouted. “I merely commented that she was quite 
beautiful. Hmph! A Dwarf falling in love with an Elf. How ridiculous! Though it 
might be wondrous just to have a lock of her hair.” He whispered softly to 
himself.

“Roast venison.” Bombur said quietly. “That is what I smelled.

“Yes. It did smell very good, didn’t it.” Nori agreed, rubbing his stomach.

“What else do you suppose they had?” Bifur called softly.

“All sorts of things, I am sure. What do Elves eat anyway?”

“I am certain that I do not know, nor do I care.” Thorin said sternly. “But if 
you don’t all shut up right now, I will eat every last one of you!”

“He’s just grumpy because he is hungry.”

“Be quiet!!”

The Dwarves had just settled into silence and drowsiness was stealing upon them 
- it had been a very eventful day after all - when Dori whispered loudly:

“The lights are coming out again over there, and there are more than ever of 
them.”

They all leapt immediately to their feet and, sure enough, there were lights 
twinkling like fallen stars; and voices and laughter.

“Oh! Another party! Let’s go!”

“No rushing forward this time! No one is to stir from hiding till I say.” Thorin 
ordered as they crept forward together, each touching the back of the one in 
front of him so as not to loose their way. “I shall send Mr. Baggins alone first 
to talk to them.”

Bilbo squeaked and stumbled.

“They won’t be frightened of him and anyway I hope they won’t do anything nasty 
to him.”

Bilbo was shaking slightly, his fingers toying with his magic ring that rested 
in his pocket.

: Yes. Why would they be frightened of me? But what about me of them? :

They peered cautiously into the glade, Gloin’s eyes searching for his Elf 
maiden.

: Ah, there she is! : he thought dreamily, his eyes resting fondly on Legolas. : 
You are a glorious creature. I have seen none fairer. :

Thorin nodded and the Dwarves suddenly pushed Bilbo from behind. But before he 
could slip his ring onto his finger, he stumbled forward, caught by surprise by 
the grand thrust from behind. Out went the lights again and complete darkness 
fell.


Chapter 6 - The Last Bash



King Thranduil of Mirkwood Forest gazed serenely over his people feeling a swell 
of love and pride. Beautiful, fair faces shone with joy and mirth, long hair 
twined with flowers gleamed in the fire light; slender bodies were wrapped in 
flowing garments of green, silver, and white with green and white gems flashing 
at throats and slim waists. It was a magnificent gathering and their king was 
the most magnificent of them all.

Wood Elves were not wicked folk as Thorin thought. If they have a fault it is a 
distrust of strangers. Though their magic was strong, they were wary. They 
differed from the High Elves of the West, and were more dangerous and less wise. 
For most of them were descended from the tribes of yore that never went to 
Faerie, or Elvenhome as it is also called, in the West. They lingered in the 
twilight of Middle Earth beneath the Sun and Moon, but loved the stars above 
all; and they wandered in the great forests that grew tall in lands that are now 
lost. They dwelt most often by the edges of the woods, from which they could 
escape at times to hunt, or to ride and run over the open lands by moonlight and 
starlight; and after the coming of Men they took ever more and more to the 
gloaming and the dusk. Still Elves they were and remain, and that is Good 
People.

Their present and greatest King stood tall and straight in his long, dark green 
robes embroidered with silver oak and golden beech leaves. Glowing white gems 
and sparkling emeralds gleamed and flashed at his pale throat, his slender 
wrists and on the sliver belt at his slim waist. Atop his long golden locks that 
waved down his back, was a crown of oak and beech leaves worked in gold and 
silver and enameled in green. Small gems flashed as he turned his head, rivaling 
the stars themselves. At his side stood his two eldest sons, looking nearly as 
wonderful as their father, one dressed in silver and one in white, the green 
gems glittering like green stars ; wreaths that matched their youngest brother’s 
graced their long fair locks.

Thranduil smiled at them fondly and they smiled back. He felt a thrill of 
complacent satisfaction. They did not enjoy dressing for these occasions, but 
they knew they had no choice. It irritated them greatly to comply with his 
wishes, but comply they did. And Legolas -

“Where is your brother?” he asked, his eyes scanning the clearing. “Why is he 
not here? I told Tanglinna to send him.”

“He is probably still being coaxed into his clothes.” Aralith said quietly with 
a glance at his brother.

“He is probably trying to figure out how to get out of dressing.” Celebross 
replied wryly, resisting the urge to yank at his tight glittering collar.

“He’ll just tell father that he can’t wear it because it makes him itch.”

“Hmph. That only ever worked for him. I always got in trouble if I said that; 
even when it was true.”

Thranduil suppressed a smile as their quiet, and they supposed private, words 
reached him.

: And for you Celebross it was always too tight and you couldn’t breath. And you 
Aralith it was always too loose and was going to fall off you or trip you. Ah, 
yes. I know all your little tricks, nin ionnath [my sons]; just as my father 
knew mine. :

But where was Legolas?

There was a stirring on the other side of the clearing and the tinkle of 
feminine laughter. Thranduil knew that his youngest had arrived. He thought his 
son looked very fine that evening and he smiled in approval. But the smile soon 
turned to a frown of foreboding. He saw Legolas look up at him, blue eyes filled 
with sudden trepidation,then look to Tanglinna who strode at his side, smirking 
slightly.

: Now what have you done? : Thranduil thought wearily, resisting the urge to 
raise one hand to his brow and shake his head. : If they’ve let black squirrels 
loose in the palace again, I’ll -:

“Someone looks very guilty.” Aralith said in a singsong voice.

“Hmph. There are Tavor and Brethil. I wonder what those three have done now. 
We’d better check the wine before we drink it. Do you remember when they put 
water from Morn Nen into the wine we sent to Lord Elrond? I think father even 
enjoyed that one. Father is not hard enough on him.” He shook his head wondering 
why Legolas seemed to get away with more than he did.

Across the clearing Tanglinna bowed toward Thranduil and slapped Legolas’ back.

“You may have managed to avoid telling me what you know of those Dwarves, sweet 
princeling, but I doubt that you can avoid telling your lord father, our great 
King. Though it will be a great amusement for me to watch you try.” Tanglinna 
moved away, still smiling though he hadn’t been particularly amused when he had 
not managed to wrest anything from the three younger Elves. Now he merely 
shrugged and prepared to watch his king at work.

Thranduil watched as Legolas glanced hastily at Tavor and Brethil for support, 
and from the gestures, looks, and hurried comments that flew between the three 
he knew that something had happened. He shook his head with amusement and slight 
annoyance and Celebross and Aralith exchanged disgusted glances.

“You have to go to him, Legolas. You can’t just - ignore - your father.” Tavor 
said, his usually perfect composure slipping slightly.

“I wasn’t going to ignore him, Tavor. Just…just avoid him. There is a 
difference, you know.”

“No, there’s not. Not to your father. To him they are one and the same.” Tavor 
continued, wondering if what he was beginning to feel was panic.

“He’s staring at us!” Brethil squeaked. “He knows! Ai, Valar! He knows!”

“Be quiet, Brethil. He doesn’t know. He can’t.” : Can he? : Tavor thought 
desperately, sweat beaded his brow and his heart raced. : Is this going to kill 
me? : he wondered with distress.

Not only Thranduil was staring at them. Several Elves had turned to them, many 
of them Elf maidens whose admiring stares were fixed on Legolas.

Suddenly Tavor’s usual humor tried to resurface.

“Mayhap we should have worn sparkly green clothes, Brethil.”

“What are you talking about, Tavor?” Legolas growled in exasperation. Surely now 
was not the time to discuss his outfit yet again. Enough had been said earlier. 
But then he became aware of the twitters and flutterings around him. He turned 
to see the maidens staring unabashedly at him, looking as though they wanted to 
devour him. He choked slightly and glanced at his father, whose eyebrows were 
raised in question. He looked to the maidens and felt a blush rising to his 
cheeks. He turned once more and rushed toward his father.

King Thranduil watched as his son approached, enjoying his discomfort as the 
eyes of the Elven people followed their young prince with amusement and 
admiration.

“He certainly knows how to draw attention to himself.” Aralith said to 
Celebross.

“Aye, he has always been able to do that.” He answered, but the brothers laughed 
lightly, knowing that the attention was seldom wanted.

Legolas bowed to his father, hoping to keep his feelings of unease from his 
face. Brethil’s words - “He knows! Ai, Valar! He knows!” - kept running through 
his brain.

: He can’t know. There is no way he can know. He doesn’t know. :

Thranduil held out his arms and embraced his youngest son. For a moment he could 
feel the rapidly beating heart before he released him. He held him out at arms 
length and studied him. He made a slight adjustment to the wreath on his head, 
straightened some of the flowers that didn’t lay just so, then smiled.

Legolas felt a flicker of relief. Perhaps he didn’t know. He wouldn’t be smiling 
if he knew. How silly, of course he didn’t know.

But then the smile turned to a frown.

“Little Greenleaf, what have you done?”

Legolas’ eyes widened in sudden panic. He glanced at his brothers who both 
stared calmly at him, blue eyes shining with wicked glee beneath cocked 
eyebrows.

“I…I…” he gasped, turning to look for Tavor and Brethil. He could not stand 
before his father alone and hope to keep his composure intact. But his friends 
were nowhere to be seen. “Father, I…I don’t know anything about those Dwarves. I 
swear - “

“Dwarves? What Dwarves? What are you speaking of?”

Legolas stared up at him in amazement and confusion.

“What are you speaking of?” he blurted out.

“You have torn you sleeve.” Thranduil said, his eyes moving to the tear on one 
flowing butterfly gossamer sleeve.

Relief washed anew and Legolas held up his arm noticing the rip in the delicate 
fabric for the first time.

“Oh! I…I don’t know how that happened. I am so sorry. I’ll go fix it right now!”

He turned hastily thinking he could flee safely away, but Thranduil’s hand 
landed on one shoulder.

“What were you saying about Dwarves, little Greenleaf?”



“Bilbo!”

“Bilbo Baggins!

“Hobbit! Where are you?”

“You dratted Hobbit!”

“Hi! Hobbit, confusticate you, where are you?”

Bilbo Baggins the Hobbit was missing.

The Dwarves had a much more difficult time getting themselves back together 
after the fires had gone out. With much stumbling and calling and grabbing 
things in the dark they finally managed to find one another, everyone except for 
the Hobbit. They called cajolingly and threateningly, but nothing worked. There 
was not a sound in the forest, but the echo of their own voices.

“Where could he be?”

“You don’t suppose the Elves took him?”

“Why would the Elves take him, Oin?”

“If they didn’t take him, then where is he?”

“I don’t know - Ouch! Get off my foot!”

“We’ll never find him. Poor Bilbo. Lost in Mirkwood forever.”

“Oh, do be quiet, Bombur.”

“We never will find him in this dark. Dratted Elves. This is entirely their 
fault. They will pay for making us lose our Burglar.” Thorin muttered.

“Oof!” Dori fell heavily to the ground. “What? Hey, it’s Bilbo!”

He had indeed stumbled over the Hobbit in the dark, thinking at first that he 
was a fallen log.

“He’s asleep!” Dori exclaimed, kneeling beside Bilbo and shaking him gently. “I 
can’t get him to wake up!”

The Dwarves homed in on Dori’s voice and gathered around poking and prodding the 
Hobbit, trying to awaken him.

“I was having such a lovely dream,” the Hobbit grumbled as he blinked his eyes 
and yawned. “I was having a most gorgeous dinner.”

“Good heavens! He has gone like Bombur.” Dwalin exclaimed.

“We’re not anywhere near that black stream, are we?” Oin squeaked, expecting the 
eerie laughter and singing to begin at any moment now.

“Be quiet, Oin. You are really starting to irritate me.”

“That’s alright, Oin.” Gloin said quietly, patting the other’s shoulder, or he 
thought it was Oin’s shoulder. “Did you by any chance see the Elven maiden I 
spoke of earlier?”

“I think Gloin is the one dreaming.” Kili giggled.

“Tell us what you dreamed, Bilbo.” Bombur prompted eagerly.

“Don’t tell us about dreams,” Thorin said hastily. “Dream-dinners aren’t any 
good, and we can’t share them.”

“They are the best I am likely to get in this beastly place.” Bilbo muttered, as 
the Dwarves lay down for the night once again. The Hobbit grumbled to himself 
and tried to get comfortable on the ground and find his dreams once more. 
“Roasted venison, hot bread and butter, crisp apples…”

It was much later that night when Kili roused them.

“There’s a regular blaze of light begun not far away - hundreds of torches and 
many fires must have been lit suddenly by magic. And hark to the singing and the 
harps!”

At first no one moved, they merely lay where they were listening to the 
enchanting music that softly floated on the cool night air.

“Are we going to try again?” Oin asked, hoping that they weren’t.

“Well, I don’t know if we should. Look at what has happened already. This time 
we might loose everyone.” Bofur said wisely.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It must be near morning. Isn’t it?” Bifur said, gazing at 
the stars overhead.

In the end it was decided that three was the charm and they got up and crept 
into the trees once more.

: This cannot be happening. : Bilbo thought as he trudged behind the others. : 
They will not be pushing me into the middle of it this time. Though the dream 
was rather nice. :

They huddled behind the trees and stared into this glade. This feast was much 
grander and much more magnificent than the others had been and they stared in 
wonder at what they saw. The Dwarves stared at the food and sighed happily. 
Gloin stared at his Elven maid and sighed happily. They would never see anything 
like it again.



Chapter 7 - Spiders and a Shrieking Beast with Blonde Hair



There were many things that could have flickered through Legolas’ brain at that 
moment when his father’s warm hand came to rest on his shoulder. He could have 
remembered the time that he, Tavor, and Brethil had brought home a baby spider 
thinking it would make a very fine pet some day; or the time they had set off 
one of Mithrandir’s fireworks inside the palace; or loosed about twenty black 
squirrels in the throne room for Thranduil’s birthday because, they swore, they 
had taught them a very nice trick ‘specially for the King; or the wine bottles 
sent to Lord Elrond laced liberally with water from Morn Nen. Or any of the 
dozens of things they had gotten themselves into over the years. Usually 
Thranduil had found their escapades somewhat amusing, especially the enchanted 
wine, but this one was somewhat different than those rather harmless incidents. 
This one involved Dwarves after all.

“Dwarves?” He managed to say at last, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “I 
don’t think I said anything about Dwarves, father. You…you must be…uh…mistaken.” 
The last word was a whisper, barely croaked out passed the tightening in his 
throat.

Aralith couldn’t stop the snicker from passing his own lips. He cleared his 
throat to cover it, but Thranduil hadn’t heard.

“I must be what?” he said to his youngest son quietly. “I don’t believe that I 
heard you correctly.”

Legolas swallowed, knowing that his words could not have been more poorly 
chosen.

: Where are Tavor and Brethil? : he thought feeling panic rising. : How could 
they leave me alone now! :

“Look at me, little Greenleaf. And tell me what you said.”

Legolas lifted his eyes to his formidable father. The blue eyes weren’t 
sparkling with amusement now. He glanced at his brothers and saw enjoyment on 
their faces. He scowled at them.

Tanglinna, who had moved nearer to them, positioning himself so he could see 
both Thranduil’s and Legolas’ faces, grinned widely. At that moment they looked 
very similar.

Suddenly two Dwarves burst into the clearing, dancing and jigging about. The 
Elves burst into peals of melodious laughter. Legolas turned, fearing that once 
again the Dwarves had found them. But then he realized what it was and he nearly 
fell to his knees in relief.

“Are these your Dwarves?” Thranduil asked with a smile.

His son merely nodded, knowing he had no voice at that moment to speak. A wide 
grin spread across his face as he watched Tavor and Brethil caper about the 
clearing; singing in gruff voices about stone and axes; long strings of moss and 
flowering vines dangling from their hair and chins. It seemed that Dwarves had 
indeed invaded their festivities again.



“What do those Elves think they are doing?” Ori asked.

“I think they are making fun of us.” Dori said, feeling his beard bristle with 
anger.

“Why would they do that?” Bifur wondered.

“I don’t know, but it is not very nice of them.” Bofur countered, his fists 
clenching.

“Elves aren’t very nice.”

“But look at the beautiful maiden! She is smiling. Have you ever seen anything 
so radiant, so -“

“Shut up, Gloin!” several voices hissed.

Bilbo didn’t say anything as he found it rather amusing himself. He was glad of 
the dark so they wouldn’t see his smile.

: Silly Dwarves. They take themselves much too seriously. : he thought, stifling 
a giggle when the two “Dwarves” ran into one another and fell to the ground, 
kicking their feet in the air.

The other Elves laughed and applauded, raising their goblets in appreciation.

Tavor and Brethil stood and bowed gracefully. They looked to Legolas who smiled 
at them, applauding loudest of all. They grinned through the moss and vines on 
their faces.

Thranduil laughed and reached for a wine goblet. He raised it in a toast.

“To the Dwarves. We thank you for livening our party. You are welcome to come 
anytime you wish.”

The Elves raised their goblets.

“To the Dwarves!”

Tanglinna handed a goblet to Legolas, his blue eyes boring into the young 
prince.

“To the Dwarves.” He said. He had to hand it to the three of them, they had 
managed to avoid telling the king as well. He shook his head. “I only hope 
nothing comes of this.” he muttered softly.

Behind the ring of trees the Dwarves looked to Thorin.

“You heard them.” He growled. “We are welcome anytime we wish.”

And with that Thorin Oakenshield stepped into the clearing.



: Oh, no! : Bilbo thought. : Here we go again! :

Silence descended on the clearing, the laughter cut off instantly and Bilbo had 
barely registered the shock and surprise on the fair Elven faces when all the 
fires leapt up in thick, black choking smoke; ashes and cinders flying.

Bilbo found himself running about, just why he wasn’t certain, calling to the 
Dwarves. All about him was the sound of people he could not see or feel also 
calling the Dwarves’ names and occasionally his own. But soon the cries of the 
others came from farther and farther away and to him it seemed that the yells 
and cries changed to ones of fear.

“Help! Help!”

“Oh, no! What is that?!”

“Help!”

And then, even more frightening, the noises died away all together, leaving the 
Hobbit alone in the complete silence and darkness.

“What am I to do now?” he said aloud, though the sound of his voice seemed so 
loud that it echoed from the trees. He thought of running after them, but knew 
that he would only become more confused and lost than he was already.

: This is no good. : he thought. : What is the point of running about when I 
can’t see anything. Bothersome Dwarves! What have they gotten themselves into 
now? Where have they gone? Did the Elves take them? Confusticate them! Whatever 
that means.”

He settled down against a tree with his legs stretched before him. His thoughts 
turned to his home, which had never seemed so far away.

: What wouldn’t I give to be in my comfortable hole right now. Sitting by the 
fire with a full pipe; the kettle singing; and a tray piled with food. :

Since it was nearing breakfast the morning food litany began.

“Bacon and eggs; toast and butter…”

It was then that he felt something touch him. It felt like a long sticky string 
against his left hand and when he tried to move he found his legs were wrapped 
in the same sticky substance, so that when he managed to get to his feet he 
promptly fell over.

“What is going on?” he gasped in surprise.

He heard a noise behind him and rolled around to see who or what was coming 
toward him.

“Good heavens!” He said.

Coming toward him was a spider, not like the little ones that lived in the top 
of the great oak, but a very large one. He could see its many eyes glowing and 
feel the long hairy legs as it wrapped its sticky threads round and round him.

He beat at the creature with his hands, while it darted at him, trying to poison 
him wishing to keep him still as it went about it business of wrapping him up.

Suddenly, as Bilbo felt something dig into his hip as he rolled onto his side, 
he remembered his little sword and he quickly drew it.

The spider, upon hearing the ring of steel, jumped back. It was a young spider 
and though it had never had an encounter with any of the glowing beings that 
lived in this wood that slew its kind, he had been warned. But this little bit 
of a thing didn’t glow.

As it hesitated, Bilbo sliced his legs free and rushed toward it striking it in 
the eyes.

The spider shrieked with pain and fury, dancing and leaping about, flinging its 
long legs, until Bilbo felled it with another sure stroke. Then the Hobbit fell 
to the ground and remembered no more for a long while.

It was daylight when he awoke, the usual dim filtered light that he was getting 
used to filled the space beneath the trees. The spider lay dead beside him and 
his Elven dagger was black with its blood. A great swell of pride and fierceness 
filled him. Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Hobbiton in the Shire had killed a Giant Spider 
of Mirkwood all by himself! He had no help from Wizards, Dwarves or Wood Elves. 
Nor anyone else. He was a different person than the one running about in 
confusion the night before. He wiped his sword on the grass and slid it into the 
sheath with a satisfying snick.

“I will give you a name.” he said to it, his hand caressing the hilt. “I shall 
call you Sting.”



“It looks as though there were more than two Dwarves in attendance this evening, 
princeling.” A voice whispered in Legolas’ ear. He turned to see the Master 
Archer staring at him, one eyebrow cocked.

“Yes, little Greenleaf. Is there something you need to tell me?” A voice at his 
other side said. And he turned his head to see his father standing there, his 
arms folded over his chest.

: I am dreaming. : he told himself, hurried looking away from them. : I fell out 
of our boat into Morn Nen and then fell asleep. This cannot be real…It is a 
nightmare. :

When the prince said nothing, but stared dazedly into the distance, Tanglinna 
turned to his king.

“This is the third time this night that this has transpired, your Majesty.” He 
saw Legolas twitch slightly as he said this, but the younger Elf still didn’t 
speak, though his lips moved soundlessly.

“Third time? What is this? Legolas, you had better begin speaking to me of what 
you know immediately.” Thranduil gently gripped his son’s chin and turned his 
head so their eyes met.

“I am dreaming.” Legolas said. “Truly I am dreaming because this cannot be 
happening. Why aren’t Tavor and Brethil waking me up? I don’t like this dream.”

Thranduil scowled down at him.

“I assure you, little Greenleaf, that you are not dreaming. Though I assure that 
you will indeed wish that you are if you don’t-“ He turned to Tanglinna. “Find 
Tavor and Brethil. We will get to the bottom of this.”

Aralith and Celebross watched with much amusement. Finally something that their 
father couldn’t laugh away.

All about this clearing, that the Wood Elves had been transported to, fair soft 
voices spoke to one another in hushed tones. Wonder and confusion filled the 
air. They would look to their king on occasion, but from the frown on his face 
they knew it would not be safe to approach him.

Tavor and Brethil were speaking hurriedly to one another when they suddenly 
became aware that they were not alone. They spun to find Tanglinna standing 
behind them.

“You were saying, my young friends?” He said, then suddenly he reached out and 
grabbed them both by the shoulder and marched them to the king.

“I might have known.” They heard someone say. “What have they done now?”

“Oh, no.” Brethil moaned, his eyes huge with fright. “I can’t do this, Tavor. 
You know I can’t.”

“Be quiet, Brethil. We…we have done nothing wrong.” Tavor said, feeling the 
strange sensation of panic welling in him once more.

“Oh, look! What is wrong with Legolas? He looks so strange! What did they do to 
him? What are they going to do to us!”

“Silly young scamp!” Tanglinna scolded. “Nothing has been done to anyone. Yet.” 
He shoved them forward, watching as they at least had the presence of mind to 
bow.

Thranduil turned the full power of his stare on the two young Elves, who 
wouldn’t meet his gaze. This was truly growing tiresome. He shook his head and 
addressed the one most likely to talk.

“Brethil. Explain yourself.”

Legolas glanced at Tavor, who paled and wiped sweat from his brow.

“Not Brethil.” The prince breathed. “Not Brethil.”

The young Elf swallowed and looked up at his king. He opened his mouth, then 
glanced at his two friends, who stared pleadingly at him. He swallowed and 
opened his mouth again.

“You will tell me now, Brethil.”

“I…We…That is…”

Legolas shook his head almost imperceptible, but Thranduil rounded on him.

“You had your chance, little Greenleaf. Now it is Brethil’s. You will not move 
until I am finished with your friend. You were saying, Brethil.”

“I…I…Your Majesty, I am so sorry! They stole our boat from Morn Nen and we sang 
to them and they ran, but then - oh, if only we had fed them -“

“Hold, Brethil.” Thranduil said, grabbing the youngster by the arm. “Start at 
the beginning. Why were you at Morn Nen?”

Legolas’ eyes widened and Tavor gulped noisily.

“We…uh…” Brethil glanced nervously from Legolas to Tavor, but knew he would 
receive no help when he saw their stricken faces, so he plunged ahead. “We were 
getting water from Morn Nen to put in Aralith’s wine. I am so sorry!” He was 
nearly sobbing with fear, that Thranduil almost felt pity for him. Almost.

‘What?!” Aralith squeaked. “Why you-“ He glared at Legolas.

“Silence, nin ion. [my son] Brethil, why were you going to put water from Morn 
Nen in Aralith’s wine?” Even though he spoke to Brethil, his eyes bored into his 
youngest son’s profile.

“Oh, your Majesty.” Brethil continued, words gushing forth like water from a 
burst dam. “I am so sorry! We were getting the water because we wanted him to 
forget that we had taken your necklace to put on the spider we had caught and he 
saw us, but he’s told you already and now we are in so much trouble. Oh, why did 
I let you talk me into this?” He looked accusingly at his two friends. “We 
always get caught and Aralith’s run to your father already -“

“No, Brethil. I haven’t told him yet.” Aralith smirked, feeling vindicated. “I 
guess I don’t have to now.”

Legolas felt his heart drop to his feet as his father rounded on him once more.

“What necklace?” Thranduil asked quietly.

Legolas swallowed. Unlike Brethil his voice seemed trapped somewhere in the 
vicinity of his stomach.

“It…it…”

“It was the one with the large white gem and all the little green ones set in 
silver.” Brethil interrupted. “You know, your Majesty. One of the ones you 
didn’t want to pay the Dwarves for making. And we dropped it into Morn Nen and 
we tried to get it back, but - oh - we couldn’t.”

Thranduil’s face reddened and Tavor made a small noise and backed away, hand 
over his mouth. He would have fled if Tanglinna’s hand hadn’t tangled on his 
tunic.

Brethil kept muttering “I am so sorry. I am so sorry.” Over and over into his 
hands, which covered his face.

Legolas stared into the distance.

“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.”

“WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Far away the spiders quaked as they hastily wrapped their recently caught 
dinner, and their dinner quaked wondering if perhaps this wasn’t such a bad way 
to die after all if only to escape whatever had made that particular shriek. And 
Bilbo Baggins, lying against a tree, newly passed out from his battle with a 
spider, moaned and dreamed of large fierce beasts with dripping fangs and long 
blonde hair.


Chapter 8 - Slaying Spiders and Retaliation



Bilbo stared at the trees about him. They were mainly oaks and beeches and would 
have been considered quite fair but for his experiences since entering this 
forest. Mirkwood seemed a dark, grim place, a place into which the Dwarves had 
disappeared, crying for help. He knew he couldn’t shout for them, which would 
only draw unwanted attention. He paused beneath a towering oak wondering in 
which direction the path lay and what direction he should go first in his 
attempt to locate the Dwarves.

“O! Why did we not remember Beorn’s advice, and Gandalf’s! What a mess we are in 
now! We! I only wish it was we: it is horrible being all alone.” He said 
quietly, gazing about him for some sign of the dwarves. In the end he slipped on 
his ring, made a good guess at the direction from which the cries of the Dwarves 
had come in the night. And because he was born a rather lucky Hobbit he guessed 
rightly - more or less.

He moved silently through the trees, for Hobbits at need can move more quietly 
even than Wood Elves, when he noticed a place of darker shadows ahead. As he 
drew closer he saw why.

The place of darkness was made by spider-webs all tangled, matted and crossing 
over one another again and again. And then he saw the spiders: horrible and 
loathsome, too many of them. They were squatting in the branches above him.

He trembled with fear and disgust and hoped that they could not see him. He 
turned his ring on his finger, as if to assure him that it was indeed there. 
Then something chilled him even more: the spiders were speaking to one another 
in creaky, hissing voices and they were talking about the Dwarves - his Dwarves!

“It was a sharp struggle, but worth it. What nasty thick skins they have to be 
sure, but I’ll wager there is good juice inside.”

“Juicy! Juicy!” A young one squeaked.

“Aye, they’ll make fine eating when they’ve hung a bit.” Another announced.

“Fine eating! Fine eating!”

“Don’t hang ‘em too long. They’re not as fat as they might be.” A third adult 
commented. “Been feeding none too well of late, I should guess.”

Bilbo shuddered, sharply reminded of the three Troll’s discussion on how to eat 
the Dwarves. He wondered if Gandalf would show up to save them this time. 
Somehow he doubted it.

“Kill ‘em I say.” Another hissed. “Kill ‘em now and hang ‘em dead for a while.”

“They’re dead now, I’ll warrant.” The first said.

“That they are not. I saw one a-struggling just now. Just coming round again, I 
should say, after a bee-autiful sleep. I’ll show you.”

One of the fat spiders ran along a sticky rope till it came to a high, thick 
branch with a dozen bundles hanging from it in a neat row.

: Oh no! : Bilbo thought as he stared up, seeing a Dwarvish foot sticking out 
here and there. Or the tip of a nose, a beard, or the end of a hood.

The spider went to the fattest bundle.

: Poor Bombur, I’ll bet. : Bilbo thought and watched with growing horror as the 
spider nipped at the protruding nose. A muffled yelp was heard and a toe shot up 
and kicked the spider hard. The spider hissed and fell from the branch, catching 
itself by a thread just before it hit the ground.

The others laughed at it.

“You were quite right, the meat’s alive and kicking!”

“I’ll soon put an end to that.” The spider hissed and started to climb toward 
Bombur once more.

: Oh, no! : Bilbo thought. : What am I to do? : He stared up at the spiders 
knowing that it was impossible for him to climb up to them. And what could he do 
clinging helplessly to a branch? He glanced about and saw many stones lying in 
what appeared to be a now dry stream. Bilbo was a fair shot and soon had a nice 
egg-shaped stone that suited his purpose. Bilbo was quite good at throwing with 
great accuracy. He had practiced throwing stones at things from the time he was 
a boy, stemming from the time that a carelessly thrown stone had broken out a 
window of his father and mother’s house. He was now a rather deadly shot. The 
spider reached for Bombur and Bilbo threw. The stone struck the spider squarely 
on the head and it fell to the ground stunned, all its legs curled up.

More stones flew and the spider colony grew greatly agitated. They could not see 
what was throwing the stones, but they could guess what direction they came 
from. They began their lightning fast descent, flinging strings in all 
directions.

Bilbo soon slipped silently to another place, leading the spiders further and 
further away from the Dwarves. When a group fifty had gone off to a place where 
he had stood, he threw more stones at them, and at others that had stopped 
behind. They were angry and excited, hissing violently at one another. Bilbo 
laughed quietly, suddenly remembering the Elves singing to the Dwarves, 
frightening them. So he sang to the spiders:

Old fat spider spinning in a tree!

Old fat spider can’t see me!

Attercop! Attercop!

Won’t you stop,

Stop your strutting and look for me?

Old Tomnoddy, all big body,

Old Tomnoddy can’t spy me!

Attercop! Attercop!

Down you drop!

You’ll never catch me up your tree!

Soon all the spiders were after him. They obviously didn’t like his song. They 
swung down from the branches, casting strings over the open spaces as they went.

Bilbo moved to a new place, but the spiders had moved about their home and were 
fencing him in, spinning their strings between the trees as quickly as they 
could. Standing in the middle of the spiders he sang one more song.

“Lazy Lob and crazy Cob

are weaving webs to wind me.

I am far more sweet than other meat,

But still they cannot find me!

Here am I , naughty little fly;

you are fat and lazy.

You cannot trap me, though you try,

in my cobwebs crazy.”

Then Mr. Baggins turned and pulled out Sting, he slashed through the last space 
between two tall trees with only a thin webbing between them. The spiders saw 
the sword, though they didn’t know what it was and all rushed after the Hobbit, 
hairy legs waving, eyes popping, full of rage. He lead them a merry chase into 
the forest until he dared go no further for fear of becoming lost and never 
finding the Dwarves again. He hid behind a tree and watched as the spiders 
rushed past, then quiet as a mouse he crept back to rescue the Dwarves.

He climbed up one of the spiders’ sticky ropes, thinking of how to free the 
Dwarves. But at the top he met an old, slow, wicked fat spider that had stayed 
to guard the dinners and had been pinching them to see which was juiciest. But 
before it realized that it had company, Sting flashed and the spider rolled off 
the branch dead. Bilbo smiled with satisfaction, slipped off his ring, and began 
to free his friends.



Before Bilbo had even begun his morning adventure, three young Elves of Mirkwood 
stood shaking before their very irate king. Thranduil glared down at them, 
breathing harshly as he sought some sort of control over his anger before he had 
them all pitched into Morn Nen headfirst.

“You wanted my necklace for a spider.” he said, through clenched teeth. “A 
spider!”

“We…we thought, your Majesty,” Brethil began. “that perhaps if pushed the spider 
into Morn Nen it would fall asleep and then we could put the necklace on it. 
Because it might forget that it was a spider. And it would make a wonderful pet. 
But…well…” He gazed at Tavor and Legolas for support. “Legolas overbalanced and 
- nearly fell in, but the necklace went in instead and the spider floated away 
and -“

“Brethil, be quiet!” Legolas moaned.

The people of Mirkwood stared at their king and thanked Elbereth that they 
weren’t the ones standing before him. The three young Elves were constantly 
doing things that brought them to Thranduil’s attention, but they had not seen 
him this upset with them before. They had heard quite clearly about the spider 
and the necklace. But, they wondered, what had this to do with the Dwarves. They 
shifted uneasily and waited.

Thranduil looked over at Tanglinna, who hastily rid his face of the wide - 
inappropriate - grin.

“Tanglinna, escort them back to Gladaran Thamas. And make certain there are no - 
mishaps - on the way.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Tanglinna moved to gather the bag with Legolas’ clothing in 
it and waited for the three to follow him.

Brethil stood with his head down and Tavor’s usual smirk was absent. The three 
needed to have their impetuosity curbed at times, but the Master Archer felt a 
stab of pity for them. And it amused him that the three still chased after 
spiders for fun.

“Father, I - “

“Go, Legolas. I will deal with you later.”

Legolas sighed, and bowed gracefully. Then he turned to join the others.

“Let’s go.” Tanglinna said, hoping his voice didn’t betray his uncharacteristic 
sympathy.

Thranduil watched them go, scowling fiercely. Celebross and Aralith even felt a 
pang of regret for their brother.

“I really wasn’t going to tell.” Aralith whispered. “I thought it was rather 
funny.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Brethil told everything he knows.”

“He always does. That’s why father always goes after him like a hawk after a 
rabbit.”

Thranduil turned to them, effectively halting their conversation.

“Return home.” He said, including not only his sons, but the others as well. 
“This night’s festivities are over.”

The Wood Elves quietly vanished into the dark trees. Aralith and Celebross 
exchanged glances and moved away from their father.

“I don’t think they’ll get out of this one so easily. I almost feel sorry for 
them.”

Thranduil remained in the empty clearing, staring at nothing. His beautiful 
necklace was lost in Morn Nen.

“One of the ones you didn’t want to pay the Dwarves for making.”

Brethil’s words rang in his head. There had been wars with the Dwarves in the 
past and accusations had run high on both sides.

:I paid them what was owed them. : he thought, frowning.

But it angered him to hear the old argument, especially from the lips of one of 
his own subjects.

“I don’t owe the Dwarves anything.” He stated aloud, striding out of the 
clearing, green robes billowing about him. “And why are there Dwarves in 
Mirkwood anyway? Up to no good. I will get to the bottom of this. They had 
better not be here to rob us.” He walked for a time in silence and then growled 
again. “I don’t owe them anything.”



“I am so sorry.” Brethil said as the three trudged ahead of Tanglinna.

“I think you’ve said that quite enough for one night.” Tavor replied 
dispiritedly. He glanced at Legolas who was walking silently at his side.

“What do you think he will do?” Brethil asked.

“I don’t want to think about it.” Tavor answered. “Why did you have to tell him 
everything, Brethil. He might not have noticed that particular necklace was 
missing for quite sometime.”

“I don’t know.” The young Elf sighed, shaking his head and tugging on one long, 
blonde braid. “I just couldn’t seem to stop.”

“You never can. That is why he pounces on you. You need to learn to use more 
discretion like Legolas and I.”

Tanglinna snorted behind them.

“Someone wasn’t being very discreet when he mentioned the Dwarves earlier.”

“You see, Tavor. No one can stand before the king and keep his composure. Not 
even his own son. If he can’t, then what possible chance do I have?”

“None.” Tavor and Tanglinna said together. The two glanced at one another and 
almost smiled.

Legolas was silent as they walked and a scowl graced his face beneath his rather 
askew wreath.

: He’s taking this rather hard, poor princeling. : Tanglinna thought. : Usually 
he manages to laugh it off. :

Tavor had noticed the unusual silence as well.

“Legolas, he won’t do anything too…uh…too horrible to us.” he said. : I hope he 
doesn’t do anything horrible to us. : he thought, with a slight shudder.

“I wonder where our spider is.” Legolas said quietly.

“What?” Tavor gazed over at him in amazement. “Our spider?”

“The poor thing looked rather scared when it floated away. I wonder where it 
came ashore.”

Tanglinna halted in his tracks and stared at him.

“Your father is ready to take your head off for losing his valuable necklace and 
all you can think about is that silly spider?”

“It was a very nice spider. I think it would have become quite tame.”

“You never cease to amaze me, young princeling. Are you so cocky that you think 
nothing will happen to you over this?”

“It’s not just the spider. Our boat is gone, too. It was a particularly nice 
boat.” He sighed and shook his head.

“What of the necklace, my prince? Perhaps you could escape the king’s wrath over 
the Dwarves, but not over this.”

“If only it hadn’t fallen into Morn Nen. Any where else and we could have 
recovered it.” Brethil breathed sorrowfully.

“I don’t see what all this fuss is about.” Legolas said, he took his bag of 
clothing from Tanglinna. “It was only a necklace. He has lots of them.” Slowly 
he moved ahead of others. “It made him forget the Dwarves for a time at least. 
And Brethil, why did you tell father that I overbalanced. I know you tried to 
push me in.”

Brethil gasped.

“I…Well…Yes. But it was Tavor’s idea.”

“I know.”

“Legolas, really. This is not the time to think of that.” Tavor commented. 
“There are more serious things to think on.” : Like what is going to happen to 
us. :

“What? Do you fear I will retaliate?”

“Hmph. You always find a way to retaliate.”

“I know. Do you suppose that you have been paid back in full yet?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, poor Brethil telling father everything that he knows. Or thinks he 
knows - as he always does. Shaking like a leaf in the wind. Father loosing his 
temper at us over a necklace lost in Morn Nen. And you - looking like you were 
about to faint on the spot. Is that retaliation enough?”

Tavor’s face reddened, fists clenching.

“What are you talking about, Legolas?” he growled.

Grinning wickedly, he turned and pulled the necklace from his bag where it had 
been tucked inside his hunting tunic.

“What?! Where did you get that?! Legolas! You’ve had it the whole time?!”

He shrugged.

“I only told you that I dropped it because you tried to push me in.”

“But…But…how did you know Brethil would tell your father about it? Why did you 
stand there and let him yell at us in front of everyone!”

“I know. Revenge is quite a wonderful thing, don’t you think.” He shrugged. 
“Brethil always tells everything.”

“I do not!” Brethil spluttered. “Well…I try not to, but -“ He glanced at the 
amused face before him. Then he shook his head, relief washing over him. The 
necklace wasn’t lost. Thranduil wasn’t going to punish them. He laughed.

“Really, you should thank me.” Legolas continued, staring at Tavor who was not 
so forgiving.

“Thank you! I should strangle you!”

“Father didn’t get angry about the Dwarves, did he? Now he’ll probably forget 
them.”

Tavor stared at him with his mouth open, for once not certain what to say.

Then the sound of muffled laughter caused them to turn. Tanglinna was bent over, 
shaking with mirth.

“That one is worthy of your father, princeling.” He stood, eyes sparkling. “And 
just for that I will help you catch another spider.”


Chapter 9 - The Elf King and Thorin and Slain Spiders for Little Pip

Thranduil stared at the necklace in his hands, studying the way the white gems 
glowed in their intricate silver settings, the small green stones flashing 
emerald fire. He recalled the light in his youngest son’s blue eyes, so at odds 
with the contrite look on his face when he had brought it to him.

“Unbelievable.” he whispered, turning it this way and that. “To think he had it 
the entire time. That young trickster! Letting me scream at them in front of 
everyone. Making me frighten Tavor and Brethil half to death - though if any 
deserve that it is they. And he looking so apprehensive himself.” He shook his 
head remembering with minor chagrin the way he had reacted to the news of his 
lost necklace. “Not my best moment.”

He stood and moved to place the necklace in its box of oak and silver, gems 
glittering darkly on the lid. He liked the way the piece looked spread on the 
green velvet. He snorted slightly and closed the box, locking it. He didn’t 
usually have to lock things up, but he was taking no chances.

“Ah, little Greenleaf. What is to be done about this?” He strode across the room 
and down the corridor. As he neared on of the palace’s many exits, he heard 
voices. Smiling he crept to the door and saw Legolas, Tavor and Brethil laughing 
together, eating. He raised one eyebrow. “It seems you three enjoyed that little 
joke.” He said, quietly, watching as Legolas mimed his father’s outrage. “Well, 
we shall see what can be done about this.”

Legolas had changed into his normal clothing of soft leather in muted greens and 
browns and Thranduil wondered where he had hidden the beautiful robes that he 
had worn the night before. He suspected that no one would ever see them again. 
Probably some spider was making a nest with it right now. A slow smile spread 
over the king’s handsome face. He laughed slightly and turned away.

“Please send for Ceredirhammad.” He told the first servant he saw. “I need to 
see her immediately.” And delighted with his own thoughts of retaliation, he 
walked briskly down the hallway, singing lightly.



Bilbo had never had to think and act so quickly in all of his life. He had 
managed to free some of the Dwarves and poor old Bombur, weakened by being 
pinched and poked so much tumbled right off the branch to the ground. The 
spiders were returning and they did not look happy. Bilbo moved to fend them off 
as the Dwarves worked to free the remaining five.

“Now we see you, you nasty little creature.” The spiders hissed at Bilbo. “We 
will eat you and leave your bones and skin hanging on a tree. Ugh! He’s got a 
sting has he? Well. We’ll get him all the same, and then we’ll hang him head 
downwards for a day or two.”

Bilbo hoped that they could somehow manage to escape, though the ease they 
seemed to have been captured with the night before didn’t give him much hope. He 
glanced down to see some of the spiders gathered about Bombur. They had tied him 
up once more and were dragging him away, his protests muffled and feeble. The 
little Hobbit gave a grand shout, one to nearly rival Thranduil’s and leapt at 
the spiders in front of him. They gave way at this unexpected show of bravado 
and he scrambled for the branches, only to fall out of the tree into the middle 
of the ones on the ground. And then Sting did indeed earn its new name! It 
darted all about, killing at least six of the beasts and causing the others to 
move away from the fierce little sting and its wielder and poor Bombur.

“That is for all the little people who are frightened of spiders.” He declared 
feeling very bold and warrior like indeed. “Especially for a young lass called 
Little Pip.’

“Come down! Come down!” Bilbo shouted to the others. “Don’t stay up there and be 
netted!” He had seen the other spiders swarming toward them, crawling directly 
over the Dwarves’ heads.

The Dwarves scrambled, jumped, and fell into a heap on the ground, feeling very 
shaky and weak from their ordeal. At last twelve of them were accounted for, and 
Bombur was propped between Bofur and Bifur. Bilbo danced about waving and 
jabbing with Sting; and all about them hundreds of angry spiders were watching 
them, quite enraged by this unexpected turn of events. All in all it looked 
hopeless.

Some of the Dwarves still had their knives, some had sticks, and they all made 
use of the abundant stones at their feet. And Bilbo had Sting. Again and again 
they were able to repel the spiders’ attacks, many spiders dying in the 
attempts. Bilbo felt very tired and only four Dwarves could stand steadily. The 
spiders were weaving their gruesome fences of webs and Bilbo had to do something 
or all would be lost.

“I am going to disappear.” He said, regretting that his magic ring would no 
longer be his secret. “I will try to draw the spiders off; and you must keep 
together. Make in the opposite direction. To the left there, toward where we saw 
the last of the elf-fires.”

They didn’t understand what he was saying, what with dizzy heads, and all the 
noise and flying stones. But at last Bilbo shook his head and slipped on his 
ring, and to the Dwarves vast amazement he vanished.

Soon away off to the right there came the sound of “Lazy Lob” and “Attercop”. 
This upset the spiders greatly and they stopped moving toward the Dwarves and 
some left to pursue the voice. Then finally, Balin realized what Bilbo had been 
telling them. He quickly led an attack on the remaining spiders. The huddled 
together throwing stones and jabbing with sticks and knives for all they were 
worth. At last they managed to break through the ring and flee. Behind them the 
shouting and singing stopped abruptly.

“Poor Bilbo.” Balin gasped. “I do hope that nothing has happened to him.”

But it was the Dwarves that were having trouble. The spiders had chased after 
them and because they were so weak, the Dwarves had to turn and continue 
fighting. Things might have gone badly for them if Bilbo hadn’t suddenly 
reappeared and charged the surprised spiders from behind.

“Go on! Go on!” he shouted to them. “I will do the stinging.”

He slashed and hacked at them and their webs. The spiders were very angry with 
him, but they had learned to fear Sting and didn’t dare move in too close. They 
spit curses at the retreating Dwarves, watching them move ever slowly away, but 
they could not pass Sting and its wielder to get at them. Bilbo’s arms were 
aching and his breath came in pants and gasps.

: I can’t keep this up much longer. : he thought desperately. : And I suppose I 
will be the spiders’ dinner. :

But then the spiders suddenly turned and gave way, fleeing back to their dark 
colony. He nearly collapsed with relief. But he didn’t linger, but trotted after 
the Dwarves.

The Dwarves had come to the edge of the clearing where the last of the ill- 
fated autumn feasts was held. It seemed to them that some good magic lingered 
here which the spiders did not like. The light here was greener, the trees 
seemed much more friendly. The all sat down heavily, panting and moaning. But 
when they had at last caught their breath the questions began.

They had to know all about Bilbo’s vanishing act and how it was accomplished. 
And Balin had insisted on hearing the entire story of Gollum and the riddles in 
the dark, and the finding of the ring. But then it began to grow dark, for the 
day was fast flying away. And they remembered how hungry they were.

“Where are we going to get food, Bilbo?”

“Where is the path, Bilbo?”

“Where are we, Bilbo?”

“What are we to do now, Bilbo?”

Bilbo felt a little overwhelmed to be thrust into such a position of leadership, 
but he was flattered as well. And it had been rather humbling when the Dwarves 
had stood and bowed to him - right to the ground - thanking him so profusely. 
Poor old Bombur bowed so low that he tipped right over.

Unfortunately he didn’t know where the path was, or food, or where to go, or 
what to do.

“Bilbo?” He heard a quiet voice ask.

‘Um, yes, Gloin?”

“The Elf maiden didn’t get taken by the spiders, did she?” The Dwarf asked in a 
concerned voice, gazing about the clearing.

“Really, Gloin. I suspect the Elves sent the spiders after us. Elf maiden.” 
Balin snorted, lying down to try and sleep.

Gloin ignored him and walked to the place where he had seen the maiden standing. 
A few flowers from the wreath lay on the ground, tangled with a few golden 
hairs. He bent reverently and picked them up. He raised the flowers to his nose 
and kissed the fair strands. Then he hastily put them into his tunic.

A while later, Dwalin opened his eyes and looked around.

“Where is Thorin?” he asked.



Where indeed was Thorin? Thorin knew only too well where he was. He had fallen 
asleep just as Bilbo had when he had stepped into the magically guarded clearing 
and lay there unaware of what was going on about him. He had slept through the 
battle that morning and hadn’t awakened until the Elves had come for him. They 
had stood staring down at him, eyes bright with disapproval. They had dragged 
him through the woods to Gladaran Thamas.

Thranduil’s palace was a great cave. Smaller caves opened out of it on every 
side, and the large cave itself wound downward, deeply into the earth. There 
were many rooms and passages, the walls delicately carved with likenesses of 
trees and flowers, vines and birds. Most of the Wood Elves lived in houses 
outside the palace, some nestled in the great beech trees. The cave contained 
many storehouses, treasure houses, and dungeons. And it was here that they 
dragged Thorin, who might have enjoyed gazing at the beauty of the stone and 
carvings at some other time under other circumstances.

The Elves brought him before Thranduil and removed the spell from him and the 
Dwarf glared up at the Elf king. He muttered under his breath. He didn’t like 
this particular Elf king one bit. He knew all the old grievances that his folk 
harbored against him and this appalling treatment didn’t do anything to change 
his assessment of Thranduil.

“I thought that Elves didn’t like caves.” He muttered.

Thranduil stared down at him, frowning. Behind him stood his three sons, two 
looking at him as fiercely as their father. The third’s expression was carefully 
blank.

Thorin stared back. He glared at the king and his sons. Two of them he 
recognized from the night before, but not the third. Though he seemed familiar 
somehow.

“What are you doing in Mirkwood Forest?” Thranduil asked abruptly.

“We were starving and looking for food.” He answered stubbornly, his eyebrows 
knit.

“How many of you are there?”

“We were starving and looking for food.”

“What have you come for?”

“We are starving and looking for food.”

Aralith giggled slightly and looked away. Celebross shot him a glance that 
silenced him.

Thranduil felt frustration building. He looked to Legolas who deftly avoided his 
eyes.

“How many of you are there in my forest?” He asked quietly, turning to the Dwarf 
once more.

“We were starving and looking for food.”

Thranduil drew a deep breath. His patience was beginning to wear thin. So he 
tried a different question.

“Why did you and your folk three times try to attack my people at their 
merrymaking?”

“We did not attack them.” Thorin answered “We came to beg, because we were 
starving. Attack them indeed.”

“Where are your friends now, and what are they doing?”

“I don’t know, but I expect starving in the forest.”

Legolas thought he heard a quiet voice drift from somewhere behind him: “I told 
you we should have given them food.”

“Shut up, Brethil.” Another voice hissed.

Thranduil turned to look at him again, and Legolas looked away, gazing intently 
at the ceiling.

“What were you doing in the forest?”

“Looking for food and drink, because we were starving.”

“But what brought you to the forest at all?!” Thranduil roared.

Thorin stuck out his bottom lip, folded his arms across his chest, and glared up 
at the Elf king. He would say no more.

Thranduil frowned.

“Very well! Take him away and keep him safe, until he feels inclined to tell the 
truth, even if he waits a hundred years.”

“That’s not very long.” The quiet voice said.

“Shut up, Brethil!”

Thorin glared at the king and his sons as thongs were tied around his wrists. 
But just before they lead him away, he turned back to them and stared at 
Legolas, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“I recognize you now.” He said. “You’re Gloin’s beautiful Elf maiden dressed all 
in sparkly green with hair like spun gold, carrying a wreath of flowers.” And 
then amazingly he laughed.

Legolas’ face reddened and he stared at the Dwarf in confusion and 
embarrassment.

“What is he talking about?” Aralith asked, turning to his brother.

“I know now. I don’t think I want to know.” he muttered, shifting uneasily.

But the Dwarf laughed all the way to the dungeon.



Chapter 10 - Pretty in Pink

Tanglinna had organized a group of Elves to hunt down the remaining Dwarves. 
They had gathered outside the large stone entrance doors and were awaiting the 
last member of their party. Tanglinna glanced at Tavor and Brethil who shrugged. 
They didn’t know what was holding him up either. Suddenly a loud cry of distress 
rang through the air.

“No, Father! Please! Don’t make me wear that! I can’t wear that!”

The softer voice of the king was muffled and they couldn’t hear his words, but 
they could hear his son’s.

“I swear I will never do anything like that again. Please, Ada! Please!”

The hunters glanced at one another wondering what was happening now. Silence 
fell and they looked toward the palace. A few minutes later they could hear 
voices again.

“You seem to enjoy sparkly things, nin ion. [my son] I felt it appropriate to 
give you some of your own.”

“Please, Ada. Please don’t make me -“

“Ah ah ah.” Thranduil was shaking his finger back and forth. “You better get 
used to it, unless you can stop some of these pranks.”

“But -“

“No, Legolas. You carry things too far and must be stopped. I think this will do 
it nicely.”

“Father, I won’t - “

“Yes. I am certain that you won’t.”

The two rounded the corner and the hunters gasped, then fell into convulsions of 
laughter.

Their prince stood at his father’s side, face red and scowling. Instead of his 
hunting leathers, so gratefully donned when they had returned to the palace, he 
wore a flowing tunic with billowing sleeves a slender belt of silver encircled 
his waist. Small glittery gems sparked on belt and on the high collar that 
fastened about his throat. It seemed to be strangling him. The shirt was a 
brilliant shade of pink. On his head was an ornate silver circlet shaped into 
flowers and leaves, gems sparkling there as well in shades of green and red and 
pink.

Tanglinna smirked and bowed to the king.

“Your Majesty,” he began. “I believe the Dwarves will see us coming many a mile 
off.”

Thranduil surveyed his handiwork, knowing he couldn’t have thought of a more 
brilliant revenge.

“Yes. He is rather a striking figure. Quite pretty really.”

Legolas’ hand clenched on his bow, but he said nothing.

: Perhaps he is learning. : Thranduil thought with a wry smile.

“I thought that you found that particular circlet in questionable taste, your 
Majesty.” Aradoltha, one of the hunters said, with a smile.

“I do. In questionable taste, like some of my son’s pranks.”

“ He can’t get much redder.” Brethil whispered to Tavor.

“No. I just hope that - “

Thranduil turned to them.

“And you may thank Tavor for the choice of color, Legolas.” He said, surveying 
the young Elf usually so sure of himself.

Legolas rounded on his friend, eyes narrowed.

“I…I never…Legolas, you know I wouldn’t….”

“I do believe,” Tanglinna drawled. “that I heard words to the effect that “It 
could be pink.” Or am I mistaken.”

Tavor stared at him open mouthed.

“He said that the green outfit could be worse if it were pink.” Brethil said, 
nudging his friend. “Don’t you remember?”

“Worse? Didn’t you like the green one?” Thranduil asked.

Legolas swallowed. Why was he being tortured like this?

“Yes.”

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes. I…I liked the green outfit.”

“Oh?” Thranduil said with a grin. “Then you want a pink outfit just like the 
green one?”

Legolas turned to him and hastily wiped the grimace from his face and swallowed 
the words that rose in his throat.

“No, father. I don’t…Thank you.”

“Truly? Too bad, I think it could be quite fetching.”

Tanglinna snorted.

“Where is that, er, enchanting outfit, Prince Legolas?” he asked, enjoying this 
very much. “I was hoping to see it on you again.”

Legolas’ eyes widened, and he glanced at Tavor and Brethil before he could stop 
himself.

“He - uh - he gave it to my sister.” Tavor said hastily. “Yes. That is it. My 
sister. She really, uh, appreciates it. Quite…er…enchanted really.”

Thranduil raised one eyebrow, but one look at his suffering son stopped him from 
saying anything further.

“I see…Well, go hunt some Dwarves, why don’t you. How many did you say there 
were, Brethil?”

“Fourt-uh-I…I don’t recall.” He looked up at Tavor who smiled tightly.

: Ah, dear. He is learning as well. : Thranduil thought. : We shall have to 
remedy that at some point. Can’t have that one learning to be discreet. Not 
after all the work I have put into him. :

He watched as they strode away, Tavor and Brethil immediately moving along side 
his son. He smiled imagining what they three were saying. He saw Legolas turn 
and glance backwards with a guilty expression on his face. Thranduil shook his 
head.

: You should at least wait until you are out of sight before you talk about me. 
:

“I can be rather a mean fellow.” He said, grinning as he walked down a path 
lined with ferns.

There was a sudden shriek from the kitchen garden and he hurried down the path 
to see a maiden with a basket of spilled herbs and late vegetables at her feet. 
A large spider was weaving slightly before her, a rather blank expression on its 
face.

But what caught Thranduil’s attention was the sparkling necklace around its 
furry neck. His eyes widened as he stared at the rather benign looking spider.

“Where are the three masters?” it hissed, bowing awkwardly on its long hairy 
legs. “I wanted to show them this pretty sparkly thing. Though I don’t remember 
where I got it.”

“Little Greenleaf!!” He yelled, causing the maiden and the spider to jump in 
surprise. He whirled about hurrying away to count his necklaces.





The small band of hunters walked lightly through the forest, laughing and 
singing merrily. All except the three at the back: the youngest one looking 
worried and tugging on his braids while darting glances at the other two; the 
eldest, usually so smooth and glib, was silent, his brow furrowed as he fought 
to think of something to say; and the last, his face looking so like his 
father’s when in high dudgeon that Tanglinna could barely control his own hoot 
of laughter.

“Legolas, I am so sorry.” Brethil began. “I knew we shouldn’t have gone so far 
with these…uh…pranks. But the two of you just won’t stop.”

Tavor turned to sneer at him.

“It is your mouth that got us into trouble this time, Brethil. And those 
Dwarves-“

“You should have let me give them some food.”

“Brethil, sometimes you really -“

“You never listen to me and now look at him! This is all your fault!”

“It is not. If you could have -“

“Will you both shut up.” Legolas hissed at them. “You are not making this any 
easier.”

They both turned to look at him, his blue eyes sparkling darkly, his face no 
longer red but the fair cheeks still flushed above the glittering gem encrusted 
collar.

Tavor raised one eyebrow, eyes widening in assessment and looked at Brethil, who 
suddenly felt his lips twitch.

“Well, if it is any consolation, Legolas,” Tavor began seeing Brethil’s face 
contort as he tried to control his own laughter. “You look very pretty in pink.”

The two burst out laughing and sprinted away. Legolas lips pulled back in a 
snarl, and with a quick glance at Tanglinna, he thrust his bow at Aradoltha, and 
ran after them.

“Here we go again.” Ryn said with a shake of his fair head, green eyes alight 
with amusement.

“They will never learn.” Aradoltha commented, with a grin.

“Then I suspect that we will be seeing that rather fetching ensemble quite a bit 
on our prince.” Sern laughed.

“It is a good color on him.” Amdir said with a slight smirk.

“Perhaps all the Dwarves will fall in love with him and come along quietly.” A 
young Elf named Meren said.

Tanglinna said nothing, staring after the three, his eyes bright. He was 
enjoying these little games quite a lot and hoped they would continue for some 
time. There were very few that had ever managed to ruffle his king’s feathers 
the way those three did. And Thranduil the wise and good needed his feathers 
ruffled on occasion.

“Come.” He murmured at last. “We need to stop them before they scare the Dwarves 
away before we can catch them. The king would not be pleased if they escaped us. 
And I don’t think we would look nearly so good in pink as our prince.”

The hunters trotted through the silent trees, which rang with their mirth and 
laughter.



Bilbo and the Dwarves trudged heavily through the forest each lost in his own 
thoughts of hunger and thirst and weariness. The muted shadows of evening were 
falling and they had been walking - :Staggering. : Bilbo thought with a sigh. - 
through the woods in their last attempt to be free of it.

“I don’t think we shall ever see the end of this forest.” Ori moaned. “We’ll die 
here forgotten by everyone.”

“I wonder what Gandalf will think when we don’t come out.” Bifur said quietly.

“I suspect he will feel guilty for not coming with us. Why did he send us 
through here alone?” Bofur countered. “He’s a Wizard, didn’t he know what would 
befall us?”

“Maybe he thought the Elves would help us if we needed it. Dratted Elves.” 
Dwalin muttered.

“This is all their fault. They should have fed us.” Nori said, scratching his 
yellow beard.

“The Elf maiden would have helped us if they hadn’t whisked her away so 
quickly.” Gloin said, his hand going to touch the spot above his heart where lay 
the Elf maiden’s hair and crushed flowers.

The others turned to stare at him.

“You are quite pathetic.” Dori said, with as much of a grin as he could muster.

As they moved along following Bilbo who was lost deep in his food litany, Balin 
moved to join Gloin.

“I have been thinking.” He began hesitantly with a glance at the others. “The 
Elf maiden in sparkly green was rather wondrous to behold.” His eyes gleamed 
with a soft light as he remembered the maiden. “Fair as a rose in May.” He 
sighed.

Gloin gazed at him in wonder, thinking perhaps he should share his few treasured 
strands of golden hair. But, no, he decided. He couldn’t bear to part with them.

The others turned to look at the two.

Kili laughed at them and turned to Fili.

“Can you believe them? In love with an Elf.”

Fili stared at him and blinked.

“She was rather pretty.” He stammered. “In an Elvish sort of way.” He added 
hastily.

The others laughed, momentarily forgetting their woes, which were manifold and 
overwhelming. It felt good to think of something other than parched throats, 
pinched stomachs, being lost, and without Thorin.

“Her hair was rather beautiful.” Dori admitted reluctantly. “Rather like spun 
gold.”

“Just as I said.” Gloin declared with a smile, warming to this subject readily.

“I am sure she smelled rather nice. Unlike us.” Nori grimaced as he lifted his 
arm. “Probably sweet as honeysuckle.”

“Roses.” Balin said. “She must smell of fresh pink roses kissed with dew.”

Again they all turned to him. He was becoming quite a poet.

“That was a really nice outfit. I should rather like one like it.”

Now they all turned to stare at Oin who had a dreamy expression on his face.

“Or not.” He said quietly, quailing beneath their scrutiny.

Bilbo kept his thoughts to himself, for his sharp eyes had detected something 
the Dwarves hadn’t noticed. Their Elf maiden was an Elf male. The manner of 
dress was masculine, though somewhat frilly and fluffy. But they were Elves 
after all. He didn’t wish to ruin their fantasy though, so he let them jabber on 
about the fair as a rose maiden in sparkly green and smiled to himself. At least 
they weren’t complaining. And it didn’t matter, since they would probably never 
see “her” again.

It was then that torches suddenly flared around them, just as they had in the 
clearings before during the Elves’ feasts. Elves jumped out before them, spears 
leveled at the Dwarves, bows held ready, arrow points gleaming in the firelight. 
Bilbo gasped and slipped on his ring and silently moved to one side away from 
the others, who had plopped to the ground.

“You are coming with us, Dwarves.” Tanglinna told them, eyes narrowed. “The king 
would have a word with you.”

The Dwarves stared wordless up at him. He looked so fierce that they wouldn’t 
have tried to fight even if they weren’t so starved and tired. Bright Elvish 
eyes glittered all about them, their muted brown and green clothing blending 
with the surroundings. All but one.

Gloin gasped and clutched his heart. Ah! The fair one was here! But why did she 
travel with such savage warriors? Were they her protectors?

Balin’s eyes had traveled to her as well. He smiled and sighed.

“A fair pink rose kissed by the dew.” He murmured.

All the Dwarves had noticed her, it was impossible not to dressed in such a 
bright color and looking so fetching standing there with a bow.

“A Warrior Maiden.” Dori whispered, feeling a thrill of excitement.

“Silence, Dwarves.” Tanglinna hissed at them, motioning for Aradoltha and Ryn to 
bind their wrists and put them into a long straggling line.

“Twelve of them, Tanglinna.” Meren said, after counting them.

“Twelve?” He shot a glance at Tavor, Legolas, and Brethil. He knew one sat in 
the dungeons already, but Brethil had said -or almost said - fourteen. He gazed 
about the clearing, causing Bilbo to quake with apprehension. But his eyes 
passed over the Hobbit. The Master Archer shook his head. “Let’s get them back.”

“That was awfully easy.” Brethil said quietly, as they walked beside the line of 
Dwarves.

“Almost too easy.” Tavor commented staring at the Dwarves in wonder. “I at least 
expected some resistance.”

“They are tired and hungry. That is all.” Legolas said, his eyes on the Dwarves. 
Were they staring at him? He felt a flush creep up his neck. : You shouldn’t 
embarrass me in front of the Dwarves this way. : he thought angrily at his 
father. He looked hastily away.

Tavor had noticed the undue amount of attention that Legolas was receiving from 
the small captives. But then he realized they were not looking at him in 
amusement. Could it be…admiration? He scrutinized their faces and saw that yes, 
indeed, it was admiration and - he nearly laughed out loud - infatuation.

“Legolas, those Dwarves are staring at you.” Brethil said, his face puzzled.

“It’s this stupid outfit. I can’t wait to throw it to the spiders.”

“’Tis not the outfit, my prince. But the one in the outfit that draws their 
attention.”

“What are you talking about, Tavor?”

“Look again at them. They are…how shall I put this…The Dwarves appear to be in 
love with you.”

Legolas wheeled on him, gazing at him, waiting to see the jest in his eyes. But 
then he looked to the Dwarves. Several of them were staring unabashedly at him, 
dark eyes filled with - He gulped. Then one with a dirty white hood bowed his 
head, touching his hand to his heart and smiled. Another one, somewhat larger 
than the others with a purple hood trailing down his back, grinned and flexed 
his muscles as well as he could in his bonds. Yet another seemed to be 
whispering something about pink roses.

Legolas’ mouth fell open and he staggered backwards, nearly bowling poor old 
Bilbo over as he followed them as silently as a mouse.

Brethil started to giggle, which only drew the attention of the others.

Tanglinna glanced sharply at Tavor who raised one eyebrow.

“They find the Princess of Mirkwood rather pretty in pink.” He said in Sindarin, 
knowing the Dwarves couldn’t understand him.

A wicked grin flashed across the older Elf’s face. Thranduil would get a kick 
out of this. Or perhaps he would regret that he had made his youngest son dress 
in such a manner. If he laughed or admitted that he had gone too far with this 
himself it wouldn’t matter. Either way it would be fun to tell him.

The Dwarves knew that something amused the Elves as they all burst out laughing 
and singing songs.

: They must be singing about the maiden. For she blushes so prettily. Ah, : he 
smiled, feeling his heart swell even more. : She is modest as well as beautiful. 
:


Chapter 11 - Fair as a Rose in May 



Thranduil was wondering where Cuil and Calenthar had taken the spider as he 
waited for the hunters to return with the Dwarves. The silly beast had started 
chattering about its new acquisition, which it refused to yield to the king.

“It is mine.” The spider had hissed at him. “It is mine, not yours. I am sure 
that the three masters gave it to me, though I cannot remember their doing it. I 
have others much like it that they gave to me, though not as sparkly and 
pretty.”

: Others, : Thranduil thought wearily. : How many others have you given to the 
spider, little Greenleaf? : He had not had the heart to kill it so he had sent 
it with Cuil and Calenthar to find it a place to stay out of the way until his 
son and his friends returned.

: What a wearying day.” He thought, pressing his hand to his head. He crossed 
the room and poured himself a cup of tea. He sipped it thoughtfully, sinking 
into a chair. : Vandal Root. : he thought with satisfaction. : That should help 
me relax. : He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, covering them with 
a cool damp cloth, allowing the calming herbs to do their work.

By the time the pot was drained he was feeling quite mellow and content. He 
allowed himself a small smile and hummed to himself. He heard the door open and 
two people enter, but he didn’t open his eyes or look up.

“Whatever it is, it can wait.” He said. “I am in too good a mood to hear 
anything you have to say. So come back later.” He swung his hands slightly in 
time to the music in his head.

He heard feet shuffling and whispered voices.

“Um…your Majesty. This is important. The spider has -”

“No, no, no. I am not listening.”

“Sire, please. The spider is -“

“No, not now.” Thranduil could feel his good mood dissipating as they lingered.

The two Elves looked at one another. One shrugged.

“The spider is in your room, Majesty. Going through your jewelry.”

Thranduil sat up, the cloth dropping to his lap.

“What did you say?!”

Cuil and Calenthar glanced at one another, and slowly backed toward the door.

“The spider is in your room -“

“I heard you!” Thranduil sprang from the chair and pushed passed the two Elves, 
muttering curses and invectives as he went. He strode down the corridor 
scattering anyone in his way, with merely the look on his face and his flashing 
eyes. Several people were standing outside his room, peering into it with looks 
of amazement, fear, and amusement. When they heard the king coming they quickly 
gave way.

Thranduil stopped in the doorway and stared at what he saw. Several of his robes 
were scattered about on the floor and the bed; his boxes of jewels and stones 
lay open on the tables and before the large mirror was the spider, holding up a 
particularly bright necklace with a large white stone dangling from it, his 
favorite robe of indigo draped over the spiders’ large back.

“What a pretty thing.” It creaked. “Pretty white stone that glows nicely.”

Thranduil trembled with rage.

“What is that thing doing in here?!” He turned to glare at Cuil and Calenthar.

“It…um…we…um…that is…”

Thranduil growled, his headache returning.

“Get it out of here now!” he roared. “Get it out of here and take it and put 
it…” He grimaced, clenching at his temples. “Put it in Legolas’ room. Lock it in 
there. He can take care of it when he returns.” The king whirled about and 
stormed down the hallway. “And clean up that mess!”

Cuil and Calenthar exchanged slightly relieved glances.

“I fear for those Dwarves when they do arrive.” Cuil said quietly as they moved 
into the room to try and convince the spider to leave. “I would not want to be 
in their place.”

“Hmph. I would not want to be in Prince Legolas’ place.”

Cuil smiled, tapping the spider gingerly on its back to get its attention.

“I would not want to be in his place now. Did you see his new outfit?”

Calenthar smiled.

“Aye. Very becoming if I do say so.”

The two laughed and coaxed the spider away, allowing it to keep its bauble as it 
wouldn’t leave without it.

“Come, Gwibess. It is time to go and visit the master’s room.” Calenthar said, 
hooking a leash to the necklace about its neck. The leash had been found in 
Legolas’ room, and it glittered with tiny blue gems.

Gwibess creaked and hissed happily to itself as they lead it down the hall.

“Wait until the masters see this one. It is very pretty. They will like it on 
me, I am sure.”

Several Elves watched as Cuil and Calenthar lead the spider down the hall. It 
was quite docile. Celebross and Aralith had joined them. They stood shaking 
their heads.

“I fear for the three masters.” Aralith whispered with a laugh.

“I don’t think our youngest prince will ever get to wear anything but pink ever 
again.” Thuio said.

“I think that it would be a good night to go sleep beneath the stars in one of 
the far clearings. Far enough away to not hear the shrieking.” Celebross 
commented, glancing at his brother.

Aralith nodded.

“That is an excellent idea, brother. Though I would dearly love to see the look 
on Legolas’ face when father tells him he may not change his clothes.” He 
smirked. “But I do not wish to hear the fireworks. Let us go.”

The two brothers and several others hurried from the palace, talking delightedly 
about what might happen in their absence.



Bilbo trotted quickly behind the Elves who lead the Dwarves across a bridge 
toward the Hall of the Wood Elf King. The Hobbit glanced down at the black 
rushing water and hurried across. He was a bit surprised to see the Elves taking 
the Dwarves into a large cave, the entrance behind two massive stone doors. He 
had thought that the Elves would live in the trees. Then he noticed in the 
distance, faint lights and glimmers and torches burning. Delicate houses were 
nestled beneath the towering beeches and oaks as well as in the branches over 
head. But he didn’t have time to think about it now as he rushed behind the 
others , quiet as a mouse.

As he had traveled through the woods he had been grateful for the bright pink 
tunic that the one Elf wore. It had been much easier to see than the browns and 
greens worn by the others. He could hear snatches of conversation between the 
three young Elves that lagged slightly behind. He couldn’t understand all the 
words they said, but he could tell by the tone of their voices and the looks on 
their fair faces that they were not happy. Especially the one in pink.

: I wouldn’t be happy either, dressed like that. : he thought sympathetically.

“It is just the outfit, isn’t it?” Legolas was saying, plucking at the soft 
material in disgust. “I don’t really look like a girl. Do I? Please, tell me it 
is the outfit!”

“Of course it is the outfit.” Tavor assured him. “It is pink and well, that is a 
girl’s color.” He had never seen Legolas so distressed before.

Brethil, who had been rather quiet, looked up at them.

“I don’t know.” He began quietly, studying Legolas’ face. “You are very 
beautiful.”

Legolas turned to him, regarding him with despair.

“What?”

“Well, you are. Even Tavor has said so.”

“What?! I said no such thing.” Tavor’s face reddened. “I didn’t Legolas. 
Honestly! Brethil, what are you playing at?”

Legolas looked at Tavor, blue eyes filled with suspicion.

“I didn’t! Brethil is making this up! Tell him, Brethil!”

But the younger Elf merely gazed at them with innocent grey eyes.

“Tavor!” Legolas gasped. “No! Don’t touch me! Stay back. First the Dwarves, and 
now you. I thought you were my friend. Just stay away from me!” He hurried away 
from the two, joining Meren and Ryn, glancing back accusingly at Tavor.

Tavor turned on Brethil,

“Why did you tell him that?! You know it wasn’t true!”

Brethil grinned.

“I know. How was that for retaliation. I think I am getting the hang of this 
after all. I fooled you both!” He laughed merrily and moved to join Legolas and 
the others, leaving Tavor staring after him open mouthed.

Bilbo watched carefully as they entered Thranduil’s palace, but soon became lost 
in the labyrinth of passageways and corridors twisting and turning in every 
direction.

: Oh, dear. : he thought in despair. : How will I ever find the way out? :

The doors had shut behind them as if by magic, nearly catching him as he slipped 
through. And such a dreadful feeling it was to be shut up in here with no idea 
of where he was going or how he would get out again.

: Keep your wits about you, Baggins! : he told himself sternly. : You’re going 
to need them. :

The Elves escorted the Dwarves into a large room with gracefully carved pillars. 
Seated on a chair delicately carved with vines, leaves and flowers was 
Thranduil. He was dressed in dark green robes that shimmered in the light of the 
many torches and scented candles. On his golden head was a crown of berries and 
bright red leaves. He held a staff of oak skillfully carved, its end resting on 
the floor at his feet.

: Good heavens! : Bilbo thought with a moment of panic. : He does not look 
happy. The poor Dwarves! I wonder what he will do to them? :

Thranduil’s eyes swept over the string of Dwarves waiting as the blindfolds were 
removed. His eyes moved to his son, whom he noticed was not standing with Tavor 
at his side. He raised one eyebrow at that and then scowled deeply at his 
youngest.

: What did I do now? : Legolas wondered. : I haven’t even been here. What could 
possibly have happened now? :

The Dwarves blinked in the sudden light and looked about.

“Good stone.” Balin said, admiring the room. “Looks like it was carved by 
Dwarves.”

“Silence!” Thranduil barked. His head was pounding, there was spider hair on his 
robe, the necklace that matched this outfit was missing, and he was not in a 
good mood. He glared at Legolas and gestured sharply for him to stand at his 
side. Celebross and Aralith seemed to have disappeared which had not pleased the 
king either. “Unbind the Dwarves.” He said. “And bring them closer. They aren’t 
going anywhere.” He stared down at them imperiously. “There is no escape from my 
magic doors for those who are once brought inside.”

: Oh, dear. : the Hobbit thought. : Now even if I can find them again, which I 
doubt, I won’t be able to get out of them. :

Then the interrogation began and a long and arduous one it was. Thranduil was 
stubborn, but the Dwarves were angry and surly and stubborn as well.

“What have we done, O king?” Balin asked, feeling that as the eldest, now that 
Thorin had gone missing, it was his place to speak for them all. “Is it a crime 
to be lost in the forest, to be hungry and thirsty, to be trapped by spiders? 
Are the spiders your tame beasts or your pets, if killing them makes you angry?”

Thranduil’s face darkened and he turned to glare at his son once more. : Pet 
spiders indeed, : he thought, recalling how his room looked and the robes 
covered with spider hair and the missing jewelry.

: What did I do? : Legolas wondered, amazed at the shade of red that his 
father’s face had turned.

Thranduil growled in his throat and turned back to the Dwarves.

“It is a crime to wander in my kingdom without leave. Do you forget that you 
were in my kingdom, using the road that my people made? Did you not three times 
pursue and trouble my people in the forest and rouse the spiders with your riot 
and clamor? After all the disturbance you have made I have a right to know what 
brings you here, and if you will not tell me now, I will keep you all in prison 
until you have learned sense and manners! And why are you staring at my son in 
that way?!”

Gloin, Balin, Fili, Nori and Dori jumped, hardly realizing that they were indeed 
staring at Legolas.

“Son?” Dori whispered. “Son?!”

“Yes, my son.” Thranduil said, turning to look at Legolas. He studied his son in 
his pink outfit, then frowned. “Who is about to change out of that ridiculous 
thing he is wearing. Yes. He is my son. And you are not to look at him thus!”

“Son?” Balin said, staring even harder. “But he is as fair as a rose in May.”

Legolas mouth fell open in horror.

Tanglinna stifled a laugh, his eyes bright as they met Thranduil’s. The king 
shook his head and clutched his temples, which were pounding mercilessly.

“Take them to the dungeons.” He said. “Give them something to eat and drink. But 
not one of them is to pass out of their cells until they tell me what I want to 
know. Now get them out of here!”

The Dwarves were marched away. Gloin, Balin, Fili, Nori and Dori glancing back 
at Legolas.

“Son.” Balin whispered, in disbelief. “His son.”

Gloin shook his head, his hand on his tunic, over his treasured spun gold hairs.

“He is only saying that because we are Dwarves so we will not look at her. She 
is much too fair to be a son.”

After they had left, the four Dwarves still gazing behind them, Thranduil turned 
to Legolas.

“Do you see this, little Greenleaf?” he asked, holding up the corner of his 
robe.

Legolas stared at it.

“I don’t see -“ Then he did see the small silvery hairs. Very familiar hairs. He 
swallowed.

“Do you know what they are?” Thranduil continued.

Legolas nodded slightly.

“Spider hairs?”

“Yes. Spider hairs.” Thranduil’s voice was very quiet and very calm. It scared 
his son immensely. “And how do you suppose they got there?”

Legolas turned to look at Brethil and Tavor.

“I…I can’t imagine.”

“Well, I will tell you.”

Tanglinna covered his ears and all but Brethil and Tavor fled the room.

“BECAUSE THERE WAS A SPIDER IN MY ROOM, WEARING ONE OF MY NECKLACES - AND MY 
ROBE! THAT IS WHY!!”

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered. Across the room Brethil’s eyes 
brightened.

“Oh! Did Gwibess come home? How wonderful! You didn’t have to worry after all, 
Legolas. Everything is fine now.”



Chapter 12 - Of Magic Bubble Pipes, Spider Spray, and Goblin Dolls



It all began when a certain Hobbit named Bilbo Baggins got rather bored with 
hiding in dark corners and forgotten rooms. And as he grew bolder, he found out 
some interesting and helpful things.

Bilbo had been inside Gladaran Thamas, hiding and sneaking food from the 
storerooms, for several days now. He wandered the corridors hoping to find his 
way to the Dwarves’ cells, but he had not had any success as yet. He knew he 
couldn’t stay cowering in his dark corners forever, so he ventured forth more 
and more, becoming braver and bolder with each passing day. He found his way to 
King Thranduil’s magic doors and watched as they opened for the hunting parties 
and anyone coming in or going out of the palace. The doors always closed quickly 
behind them, which gave the Hobbit a slight feeling of apprehension. : What did 
it feel like to have stone doors close on one? : he wondered with a shudder. 
That had nearly happened when escaping from the Goblins after fleeing the 
creature Gollum. He had lost many buttons in the process and did not want that 
to happen again! But he had to get out! Perhaps if he could get into the woods 
he could find the way out of Mirkwood and find Gandalf. He tried not to think of 
the endless sea of trees he had seen as he sat in the top of the giant oak tree 
so long ago. If he could just escape the walls of this prison he knew he could 
do it.

One day he stood near the doors and watched as a hunting party approached. In 
the group were the two friends of the King’s son. All the hunters carried their 
sturdy bows; their quivers filled with arrows fletched with pale brown feathers. 
They laughed and joked, but Bilbo heard their comments about the increase in the 
spider’s activities since the Dwarves had blundered though Mirkwood.

: I can do this. : Bilbo told himself as he fell into step behind the last 
hunter. : I can slip through before the doors close on me. :

The magic doors, one carved with a great beech tree and one with a great oak, 
slowly opened and the hunters filed out still speaking to one another in their 
soft musical voices. Bilbo stayed as close as he dared and approached the gaping 
gates.

: Steady, Baggins. We are almost there. :

As the last hunter slipped through, the doors immediately began to close. Bilbo 
hustled through, the great stone gates nearly pinching and scrapping his middle 
as he turned sideways to avoid being crushed by them as they shut with a 
delicate musical chime.

He breathed a sigh of relief then looked up. He was free! He was out of the Elf 
King’s Palace! He wanted to jump and shout his triumph aloud, but knew the folly 
of that. Instead he stood for a moment breathing deeply of the fresh air and 
feeling quite good. He was about to run and join the hunting party as they 
headed for the great stone bridge that spanned the forest river, called the 
Celon o Tinnu, the River of Night, by the Elves, when the doors opened once 
more.

Bilbo let out a woof of surprise as he was bowled over by another Elf and fell 
to the ground. The Elf fared no better as he crashed to the ground in an 
undignified heap. Bilbo hastily crawled to one side, wanting no more such 
mishaps, and sat catching his breath. The Elf sat up, looking very shocked.

The hunters had turned at his cry of surprise and were now laughing and smiling 
with amusement at his chagrin.

“What happened, Legolas?” Tavor called, his grey eyes shining. “Tripping over 
your own feet now?”

Legolas stood and turned, wondering what he had tripped over. But there was 
nothing in the path. His dark brows knit and he turned slowly to the others.

“I…I don’t know.” He answered, glancing behind him once more. There was 
something glinting on the paved stones, so he bent and picked it up. It was a 
tiny brass button with a daisy etched on it. None of the Elves wore brass 
buttons. Perhaps one of the Dwarves had lost it on the way in. He shrugged and 
tucked it into his tunic. As he turned away, brushing off his tunic and 
leggings, he thought he heard a voice mutter,

“Oh bother! My button!”

He spun toward the sound, but saw no one and nothing.

“Come, Prince Legolas. The spiders await.” Aradoltha called.

“Surely it is not Silivren Hithlain Man [White Mist Spirit] again.” Tavor asked 
with a malicious grin. He turned glancing into the trees beyond. “It is day and 
there is no mist. But does it now seek you in some other guise?”

“No.” Legolas said, glaring at his friend. “Don’t be ridiculous. Let us go.” He 
moved to join the others, brushing past the laughing Tavor.

“You still don’t believe in that, do you Legolas?” Brethil asked quietly, his 
own eyes betraying unseemly fear.

“No. Didn’t I just say that?” The Prince of Mirkwood shook his head and moved 
across the bridge. “Spirits don’t wear brass buttons.”

Brethil hastened after him.

“Silivren Hithlain Man.” He whispered, bumping into Legolas as he looked behind 
at the palace entrance.

Bilbo hurried behind, brushing at his jacket and breeches, staring at the empty 
place on his vest.

“My poor button. Bother that! I shall have to get it back.” His fingers plucked 
at the fabric with tiny threads still poking through. He moved silently over 
Iant or i Celon o Tinnu - the bridge over the River of Night. Then he ran to 
catch up with the hunters, two of whom were feeling somewhat uneasy now.

“We - We aren’t going near any willow groves, are we?” Brethil asked, clutching 
his bow tightly.

Tavor grinned at Aradoltha and Cuil, who grinned back shaking their heads.

“Well, actually Brethil, we were. The Dwarves seem to have stirred up the 
spiders that live near this unusual grove of ancient willows.” The older hunter 
said.

Brethil gasped and glanced at Legolas.

“You - you’re making that up, Cuil.” He stammered. “He is, isn’t he? I mean if 
Silivren Hithlain Man sees you it would -“

“He is making this up, Brethil.” Legolas stated sharply, glaring at Cuil and 
Aradoltha.

Bilbo, who only understood part of the words - though each day he learned more 
and more - had understood the words Silivren Hithlain Man. He had heard two 
young Elves discussing it one night as the mist crept ever closer to the palace.

: White Mist Spirit? Those two seem afraid of it, whatever it is. :

But a Hobbit is not easily frightened, and certainly not a Hobbit who had 
battled Trolls, Spiders, and overcome any number of terrifying things. Little 
did he know that in Silivren Hithlain Man would be a big help to him over the 
next few days. After all Hobbits are very inventive when needs strikes.



Silivren Hithlain Man was the name of a ghostly spirit that was said to live in 
a fabled willow grove somewhere in Mirkwood Forest. It was a tale passed down 
from the early ages and as a small child Legolas had heard it, while sitting 
before a great bonfire at one of the many feasts held by the wood Elves in the 
autumn. His brothers sensing his fear had taken advantage of it and woven a 
great tale about the legend, that Silivren Hithlain Man was ever seeking 
entrance to the palace to steal away the youngest royal child. It took the form 
of a dense mist that crept through the trees and across Celon o Tinnu to the 
very gates themselves. Both Celebross and Aralith had enjoyed terrorizing their 
younger brother, finding his childish fear a source of great delight.

Many a night Thranduil had a small child huddled in his bed, shaking with fear.

“Oh, Adar! I heard it! Silivren Hithlain Man! It is under my window! It was 
coming to get me! Please let me stay with you, Adar!”

It was Mithrandir who finally found a solution to the problem that did not 
lessen as quickly as Thranduil thought it should. The Istari had blown his 
“Magic Smoke Rings” in a protective circle about the room, much to the delight 
of the small Elf child.

“Nothing bad can get passed them.” He had promised solemnly. “Not a spider; not 
an Orc or Goblin; not a White Mist Spirit. You need fear nothing now, my young 
prince.” He tousled the blonde hair, his blue eyes twinkling kindly.

Legolas hadn’t thought of Mithrandir’s Angol Osp Echor [Magic Smoke Rings] in 
many years. But he thought of them now. He was seated at the table with his 
father and two brothers that night. They were outside, beneath the glittering 
stars of autumn in a secluded family garden that overlooked the river. Legolas’ 
eyes were looking worriedly at the dark trees beyond the River of Night. Mist 
was wending its way along the ground curling and pale, misty fingers creeping 
and grasping; slowly nearing the river’s edge.

: This is ridiculous. : He thought sternly. : I am not a child to be scared by 
mists and shadows. : He deliberately looked away from the white shrouded trees 
and reached for his bread. But his fingers closed on nothing. He turned to stare 
at the small white plate, the edges painted with delicate twining ivy leaves. He 
looked up in surprise, then at the ground and on his lap. But the bread was 
gone.

He glanced over at Celebross, whom, though he could taunt and tease, would not 
have played this sort of childish prank. But Aralith - Legolas scowled over at 
his other brother. He was speaking quietly to their father, his blue eyes 
innocent. Aralith was not one to hide his glee when he had pulled a particularly 
good trick.

Legolas shook his head and reached for another piece of bread and put it on his 
plate.

An owl hooted deep in the forest and he started, turning suddenly to stare 
across the River. He swallowed, noting how much closer the mist had crept in 
such a short space of time. Soon it would be spreading its skeletal white 
fingers across that black water and -

He turned away, reaching for his bread. But again the plate was empty. He looked 
to Aralith who was now speaking with Celebross.

Thranduil looked over at his youngest son and smiled. Legolas forced his lips to 
twist into what he hoped was a smile, then lifted the white tablecloth to peer 
beneath it. There was nothing under the table.

“What are you doing, little Greenleaf?”

He dropped the cloth into place and straightened, looking at his father.

“Nothing. I…um…I…’tis nothing.” He reached for yet another piece of bread.

“You don’t have that spider under there, do you?” Celebross asked, peering 
beneath the cloth himself.

“Of course not. I took her back to her nest.”

“All sparkly green and pink no doubt.” Aralith smirked.

Legolas glared at him, barely resisting the urge to stick out his tongue. 
Aralith struggled with the same old urge and Thranduil cleared his throat, 
eyebrows raised. The two brothers scowled fiercely at one another then turned 
away. Celebross shook his head and began to speak to his father once more.

Legolas, still scowling, reached for his bread, now convinced that it was 
Aralith who had taken the other pieces. But once again, the bread was gone.

He felt a shudder go through him. It hadn’t been Aralith that time; or Celebross 
either. Then who was it?

Silivren Hithlain Man.

He gasped slightly, feeling foolish, but unable to control the wave of 
unreasoning fear that shot through his body.

“Father?” His eyes strayed to the mist, which was moving out over the water even 
as he watched.

“Yes, Legolas?”

“Do you - Do you remember that - that pipe that Mithrandir gave me so long ago?”

Thranduil frowned in thought.

“Why yes. I have not thought of it in years. What has made you think of it?”

Celebross and Aralith exchanged glances, both turning to peer out over the 
water; Aralith’s chair squealing noisily as it scrapped across the flags.

“Silivren Hithlain Man!” they both exclaimed, looking over at their brother with 
wicked delight.

“That is not why!” Legolas said, hoping that he hadn’t sounded too petulant. “I 
was - I was merely wondering what had happened to it.”

“Yours only blew bubbles, Lego.” Celebross said. “Not Magic Smoke Rings.”

“They were Magic Bubbles, Celebross!” Legolas countered. “Mithrandir said so.”

Aralith stared at his younger brother in amazement.

“You didn’t really believe that, did you? You did!” He burst into peals of 
delight.

Legolas pushed to his feet.

“What about your Magic Spider Spray, Aralith? Or your Magic Goblin Doll, 
Celebross.”

Aralith sputtered, but his face reddened.

“How did you know about the Magic Spider Spray?” He asked.

“Was that why your room always smelled so funny?” Celebross asked with a grin.

“Oh! At least I didn’t sleep with a Goblin Doll. I suppose that you were just -“

“Silence!” Thranduil bellowed. “That is enough from you three!” He banged the 
table with his fist, causing the dishes and utensils to jump noisily. “You still 
act like children! I cannot believe this! Honestly I don’t know where you get 
this lack of maturity!”

Celebross looked to Aralith, who glanced at Legolas. Each could hear a voice 
shrieking when someone had thought that one of his necklaces was lost in Morn 
Nen. And Legolas could still see his father’s red face as he had yelled about 
poor Gwibess trying on his robes and necklaces, and leaving spider hair on 
everything.

When his three sons turned to look at him once more - Celebross’ eyebrows cocked 
in an exact imitation of his sire; Aralith smirking like Tavor in top form; and 
Legolas looking somewhat uneasily at him - : Please, no more pink tunics! : - 
Thranduil’s brows furrowed dangerously, his mouth turning down in a frown.

“What are you implying?” He asked quietly.

“Oh, nothing, Father.” Celebross said smoothly. “What makes you think we are 
implying anything?”

Thranduil turned to Aralith, who swallowed a tell tale laugh.

“Did Lego get all of the spider hairs from your indigo robe?” He snorted. He and 
Celebross had been informed of that little episode after their return.

Thranduil studied them closely.

“And is all of your jewelry accounted for now?” Aralith continued heedlessly.

Legolas stared at him in wonder. Aralith could not be unaware of the danger he 
was in!

: At least I will not be the one to get yelled at this time. : he thought seeing 
his father’s face darkening.

Thranduil opened his mouth, then amazingly he seemed to realize what he was 
about to do. Screaming at one’s children was really rather - well, immature. He 
closed his mouth, blinked a few times and turned to Legolas.

“Your Magic Bubble Pipe is in the chest in your mother’s room along with 
Celebross’ doll. Though I do not know where Aralith’s Spider Spray is.” He said 
calmly. Then he slowly stood. “Excuse me. Good night, nin ionnath.” And he 
walked sedately away.

“Great Valar!” Celebross breathed. “I have never seen him do that before. I 
thought you were in for it, Aralith. Perhaps there is hope for us yet.”

Aralith stared after their father, looking quite bewildered, but filled with 
relief.

Celebross grinned suddenly.

“Where is your Magic Spider Spray, Aralith?”

His brother flushed and glared at him.

“I am certain that I do not know!”

Celebross laughed and reached for a piece of bread, but the basket was empty.

“Who ate all the bread?” He asked.

Legolas turned to stare at his own plate. It was also empty. And the mist was 
now half way across Celon o Tinnu.

“Uh…Excuse me.” He said hastily and hurried to get his Magic Bubble Pipe.




Chapter 13 - Dwarven Love Poems and Pipeweed



“A Rose among thorns is she. Her golden beauty is too sweet to behold. My heart 
will melt for love of her.”

Cuil and Calenthar, who had the duty of checking on the Dwarves this day, stood 
outside Gloin’s cell snickering helplessly. They had heard him reciting what 
sounded vaguely like poetry and had crept nearer to listen. But now they were 
having trouble keeping their mirth within.

“Fairest Elven princess, what could I give thee to be worthy of beholding thy 
beauty? The stars themselves do not compare to you, O fair one of Mirkwood.”

Finally the two Elves moved away and collapsed into giggling heaps on the stone 
floor.

“Fairest Elven princess!” Cuil gasped. “’The stars themselves do not compare to 
you!’”

Calenthar sat up, his eyes sparkling brightly.

“’A Rose among thorns is she.’ I don’t think “her” father would like to hear 
himself compared to a thorn, regardless that it is quite apropos at times.”

“I think he would be quite, uh…prickly if he heard it!” Cuil laughed. “Perhaps 
we should send her highness down here to speak to the poor love smitten thing.”

“In her pink tunic!”

The two were still laughing when there were quiet footsteps in the hall behind 
them.

“What is going on here?”

The two turned to see Tanglinna approaching. They stood hastily, straightening 
their tunics.

“We…um…we were just listening to some Dwarven love poetry.” Cuil managed, with a 
quick grin at Calenthar.

“Dwarven love poetry?”

Tanglinna narrowed his eyes and moved silently to stand outside Gloin’s cell.

The Dwarf sat in a shaft of light that fell from the torches in the corridor. 
Dangling from his fingers was a slim braid of golden hair.

“You are the fairest creature that walks the earth and none dare gainsay me, my 
lovely one.”

Tanglinna moved from the cell door, his eyes filled with glee.

“Mayhap we should send Prince Legolas down to serenade him.” He said quietly.

“Princess Legolas.” Calenthar choked. “The poor Dwarf would probably die in 
raptures of joy!”

“Where did he get the hair?” Tanglinna queried.

Cuil and Calenthar both shrugged and the Master Archer’s eyes suddenly lit with 
wicked delight.

“I feel rather sorry for this poor deluded Dwarf. Perhaps a present would cheer 
him. Where exactly does Prince Legolas keep his hair brush?”

Calenthar laughed loudly, startling the Dwarves, and ran down the corridor 
toward the prince’s room.





Bilbo, who was picking Elvish up rather quickly as he heard it everyday, had 
come up with a plan. He knew he could wander tunnels, corridors, rooms and dead 
ends forever and still not free the Dwarves. As for finding a way out of 
Mirkwood Forest he now knew that was quite hopeless. He had become lost once - 
he was no fool - when he had become separated from the hunting party that he was 
following. So when the plan presented itself so nicely he began to act upon it.

Bilbo spent many a day and night silently trailing the youngest prince, playing 
any number of tricks on him: taking food from his plate; moving objects from one 
place to another in his room. He had found the Magic Bubble Pipe that someone 
named Mithrandir had given to Legolas when he was a child to protect him from 
the White Mist Spirit. The pipe was really rather clever looking: the stem was 
long and curved, not unlike Bilbo’s own pipe; the bowl was carved to resemble a 
Dragon’s head, the hole where the bubbles erupted was its open mouth. Great 
slanted eyes were painted blue, spiraled horns twined up the stem. The rest of 
the bowl was tinged a paler blue.

: Perhaps this is what old Smaug looks like. : he thought. : I have never seen a 
dragon before. I wonder how big he is. :

Bilbo blew on the pipe and watched as the bubbles floated about the room, He 
flicked one with his finger and was amazed as it popped into many tiny bubbles 
with a musical chime and flew about the room quickly, bouncing off the walls and 
ceiling.

: This is rather nice. :

He blew more bubbles, popping them and making a grand concert in the process.

: I wonder who this Mithrandir is. He and old Gandalf should get together and 
sees who’s cleverer. :

“Amlug o i Angol Osp Echor.” Bilbo whispered, holding the delicate thing in his 
hands. “Dragon of the Magic Smoke Rings.” He crossed the room and pushed aside 
the gauzy hanging that fell over the window. It was pale green decorated with 
leaves: darker green ferns, copper oak, and golden beech. It seemed the prince 
preferred a room with an escape route. It was a pleasant and airy room and Bilbo 
quite liked it. He was immensely pleased to see an autumn mist beginning to 
drift over the River of Night. Good. This would be the night to put his plan 
into action. He dropped the hanging and tucked the pipe into to his waistcoat, 
fingers plucking at the missing button, then crossed the room and climbed into a 
chair that was tucked into a dark corner.

While he waited he hummed to himself, looking once more at the dragonhead pipe.

: I wonder if it is only good for bubbles. :

He blew it experimentally watching the beautiful iridescent bubbles issue from 
the dragon’s mouth. He shrugged, tucked the pipe away once more and took out his 
own pipe.

Later that night as the mist pooled outside Gladaran Thamas, the door opened and 
Legolas entered. He closed the door quietly and moved to look out his window. He 
hastily dropped the hanging and moved across the room to fetch his pipe.

: I am glad that no one can see me. : he thought with a wry smile. But then he 
realized the pipe was not where he had left it the night before. He frantically 
glanced about the room, then moved to light a candle and hunt in the dark 
corners. He dropped to his knees by the bed, lifting the soft covers and peering 
beneath it. He threw open his clothes chest and drawers; then moved to look 
beneath the wall hangings and the chair Bilbo was seated in, his feet tucked 
carefully under him.

Bilbo watched with amusement and a slight twinge of regret when worry creased 
the young Elf’s face. But the Dwarves needed him so he drew deeply on his pipe, 
watching the bowl flare red, then blew a thin stream of smoke into the air.

Legolas smelled the smoke before he saw it. He turned, brows furrowed, frowning. 
Then he saw a thin white wreath of smoke issue out of thin air from the chair in 
the corner. He stared at it in disbelief. Then he glanced uneasily at the 
window.

“Who is there?” he called, wishing he had his weapons.

More smoke curled toward the ceiling and Legolas swallowed nervously.

“Who are you?”

“I am Silivren Hithlain Man.” Bilbo said in a high-pitched squeaky voice. “I 
have come for you, o youngest royal child.”

The Elf started and staggered a few steps back.

“You…you are nothing but a child’s story. You are not real!”

More fragrant smoke filled the air followed by a high laugh.

“I have come for you, Prince Legolas Greenleaf.”

Bilbo watched as Legolas stared through him and he nearly laughed with delight 
at his trick.

: If only he could see the expression on his face! : he thought with a silent 
chuckle. But this was his undoing. He had been hiding his pipe behind his arm 
and when he had laughed his arm had slipped and the pipe became visible for just 
a second. But Legolas had seen it.

“You are the last Dwarf!” He exclaimed. “The fourteenth! The furry footed one! 
What Dwarf magic is this?” He advanced on the chair, his blue eyes flashing 
fiercely.

“Wait! Wait!” Bilbo cried, hopping up, his pipe now clearly visible as he tried 
to evade the Elf. “Please, just wait, Prince Legolas! Please! I will tell you 
everything. One moment! Ouch!”

Legolas had managed to grab Bilbo’s arm, the one with the pipe clenched in its 
fist.

“Who are you? And what are you doing in my room?”

Bilbo was caught and he knew it, so he carefully slipped his magic ring from his 
finger into the pocket of his waistcoat.

“Oh, bother. Very well then.”

Legolas started again at his sudden appearance, but did not loosen his grip. He 
studied the short curly haired being he held.

“You are not a Dwarf.” he said astutely. “What are you? And why are you with 
those Dwarves? Why are you here in Mirkwood?”

“Good heavens!” Bilbo said with a smile. “You sounded very like your father just 
then. Very impressive, I must say.”

Legolas frowned slightly and shook his head.

“Who are you?” he repeated. “How do you know what my father sounds like anyway?”

“I guess you won’t believe me if I said I was Silivren Hithlain Man.” Bilbo 
asked, blue eyes twinkling. “I didn’t think so.”

Legolas’ frown deepened.

“How do you know about Silivren Hithlain Man?”

“My, but you ask a lot of questions! I always thought that you Wood Elves were a 
rather reserved, quiet lot.”

Legolas sighed, his patience such as it was, was wearing away.

“Who are you?” he asked, returning to the original question.

Bilbo smiled once more.

“If you will release my arm this would be so much easier to explain. I do 
believe you are cutting off my circulation.”

The grip on his arm loosened, but he was not released entirely.

“You must give me your word that you won’t try to escape or I will take you to 
my father.”

“Oh, very well.” The Hobbit sighed. “You have my word that I won’t try to 
escape. But you must promise me that you won’t take me to your father. He rather 
scares me, you know.”

Legolas actually smiled.

“He rather scares me at times, too. Very well.” He released his hold on Bilbo’s 
arm and backed away a couple of steps. “Now, who are you?”

Bilbo rubbed his arm slightly.

“You don’t have anything to eat, do you?” he asked with a smile. “I am rather 
hungry!”



Some time later, a plate lay on the table with only a few crumbs attesting to 
the food once piled on it. Bilbo had taken up his pipe once more and was smoking 
contentedly in the chair. Legolas was seated on the floor cross -legged, staring 
up at him.

“The Shire sounds like a wondrous place.” He said. “I should like to visit it 
one day.”

“I would love to have you anytime. It is a rather nice place and I do miss it. 
This adventure has been something else altogether. I never thought I would leave 
the Shire myself, but when old Gandalf came along -”

“Gandalf? Then you know Mithrandir!”

“Well, no. Can’t say that I do. I know that he made this little bubble pipe of 
yours - oh yes! Here. I forgot I had it. Rather an interesting little thing 
really. Quite fun. So I guess it works? The Silivren Hithlain Man has never 
crept into your room?”

Legolas laughed, taking his pipe.

“Not yet. Mithrandir used Magic Smoke Rings, but mine only makes bubbles. 
Mithrandir is Gandalf.”

“Really? I never would have known. Fancy that! Well, well. He does get around. 
Wonder why he didn’t come with us through your forest then.” He shrugged. “He 
does make marvelous smoke rings. I can make some rather nice ones myself.” He 
puffed his pipe then blew a nice large undulating ring.

“That is very nice. I wish I could do that, but -“ Legolas smiled wryly, blowing 
a bubble out of the dragon’s mouth and popping it.

“Here.” Bilbo held out his pipe. “Give it a try on mine.”

“I…I don’t know…”

“Come on. It is really quite fun. Very relaxing.”

“Perhaps father should have one then.” He took the pipe, studying its smooth 
surface then put it to his lips.

“Don’t-!”

But it was too late, the smoke burned down the Elf prince’s throat causing him 
to cough loudly.

“Oh, bother. Don’t try to swallow it. Just- just blow it back out.”

After the coughing fit had passed, Legolas eyed the Hobbit suspiciously, then 
carefully took another puff.

“Blow it out. That is right.” Bilbo instructed.

After a few more tries, Legolas seemed to have gotten the hang of it, though he 
didn’t understand why the Hobbit - and Mithrandir - found this so enjoyable.

“Try a smoke ring.” Bilbo suggested, not seeing the slightly dazed expression on 
the Elf’s face, nor how dilated his pupil’s had become, the eyes now more black 
than blue. “Well, that was almost right. Just a bit…um…lopsided.”

Legolas tried again, concentrating all his effort into the shape of the ring.

“Oh! Look! I did it! I did it!” He took a deep pull on the pipe, and in his 
enthusiasm gulped it down his throat.

Another coughing fit ensued, Bilbo thumping him heartily on the back. Between 
the choking coughs the Hobbit could discern gasps of laughter. He shook his head 
wondering how the Elf could find this amusing.

“Are you alright, Prince Legolas?” he asked as the Elf righted himself, his fair 
face red, but split with a wide grin.

“Yes. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Baggins.” He bowed, as gracefully as he 
could from a sitting position, then giggled again.

Bilbo felt a twinge of unease. The Elf seemed to be acting strangely - or was 
this how Elves acted when they loosened up somewhat.

Legolas was puffing out another smoke ring and admired it as it drifted away.

: He does look a bit odd. : Bilbo thought. : I wonder why. :

He couldn’t help but smile as Legolas blew more and more rings into the air.

“Silivren Hithlain Man wouldn’t dare to come into your room now.” He commented. 
“It is quite full of smoke.”

Legolas wriggled happily.

“I think I do this as well as Mithrandir himself.” He giggled. “Legolas’ Magic 
Smoke Rings! Maybe I should have kept my sparkly green outfit. Then I could be 
the…um… Legolas the Sparkly Green Wizard!” He threw his arms up, scattering ash 
on the floor.

“Oh! Do be careful, Legolas the Sparkly Green.” Bilbo cautioned, stamping on the 
ashes that landed on the thick green rug nearby. “Um, here. Let me take that.” 
He snagged the pipe just as the Elf flopped back onto the floor, an inane grin 
on his face.

“I think you had better stop for a time. My goodness! I have never seen anyone 
affected by pipeweed in quite this manner.”

There was a discreet knock at the door. Bilbo gulped and slipped on his ring, 
diving with the pipe under the bed.

“Come in, come in.” Mirkwood’s prince sang, waving his fingers in the air.

Calenthar peered around the door.

“Oh! Prince Legolas. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Greetings, Calenthar. Aren’t my smoke rings wondrous to behold?”

Calenthar’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the prince sprawled happily on 
the cool stone floor staring up at the ceiling.

“Um, Prince Legolas? What is that smell? You didn’t steal Aralith’s Spider 
Spray, did you?”

“Of course not. I am not afraid of spiders. They are my Magic Smoke Rings. 
Mithrandir couldn’t do them better. Legolas the Sparkly Green Wizard and his 
Magic Smoke Rings.”

Calenthar stared at him in amazement.

“I thought your pipe only blew bubbles, my prince.” He said after a moment.

“What? Oh! This!” He picked up the dragon pipe. He maneuvered himself to a 
sitting position and blew into it. Several colorful bubbles erupted from the 
dragon’s mouth. “Oh! They are so pretty! Look at all the colors!”

He popped one, watching it burst into smaller bubbles that shot about like 
shooting stars. He giggled and clapped his hands in delight, dropping the pipe 
to the floor.

“Look at them! Look at them! This is so fun!” He fumbled for the pipe and blew 
several more bubbles. “Look! Bilbo, look!”

“Who is Bilbo, my prince?”

“The Dwarf with furry feet. Only he is not really a Dwarf, he is only disguised 
as one. He must be a Wizard as well. He makes marvelous smoke rings, too. Though 
not nearly as good as mine. But -“ Legolas the Sparkly Green Wizard collapsed to 
the floor in a giggling fit.

“Dwarf?” Calenthar frowned. “Aren’t they all in their cells? You have not let 
them out, have you?”

“Poor Dwarves. They must be very sad, all locked up in the dark like that…I 
know! I shall visit them and blow some smoke rings…and bubbles!” He brandished 
his pipe. “They would like that, wouldn’t they, Calenthar?” The son of Thranduil 
climbed awkwardly to his feet and stood swaying, one hand grasping Calenthar’s 
shoulder. “Legolas the Sparkly Green Wizard.” He staggered through the door 
humming, his bubble pipe in one hand.

Calenthar wasn’t certain how alarmed he should be.

“What have you been drinking, my prince?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Aralith was supposed to drink the Morn Nen water, but I think 
we sent it to Elrond instead. I would love to have seen his face…”

Calenthar shook his head as Legolas stared back at him with a beautiful smile on 
his face.

“I am sure he looked very funny. Father would just love that!”

“Oh, Calenthar! This clothes will never do!” His face fell. “It’s not sparkly at 
all. And Gwibess has my pretty ones.” He frowned, but then a sly smile touched 
his lips. “I’ll just borrow some of father’s. He has more sparkly clothes than 
anyone I know.”

Now Calenthar did become alarmed.

“No! That…that would not be a good idea, Prince Legolas. You know how your 
father feels about his clothes -“

Legolas waved a negligent hand.

“He won’t mind. He likes to dress us in fancy clothes. He’ll be very happy! And 
to know I have entertained his guests as well - looking beautiful of course -“ 
He smiled. “He will be quite pleased.”

Calenthar wasn’t so certain.

“My prince, I don’t think -“

“It is best if you let me do the thinking.” Legolas moved down the hall, humming 
and blowing bubbles.

Bilbo crept from under the bed and carefully placed his pipe in a corner on the 
stone floor - after puffing on it a couple times.

“Well, at least I shall find the Dwarves, much more easily than I thought.” He 
whispered. :Well. Thank Elbereth for pipeweed! : He thought gleefully, skipping 
down the hall after the two Elves.



Chapter 14 - Like father, like son



Earlier that day Gwibess the spider had visitors. 
"What is that?" They queried jealously seeing the beautiful clothing and the 
sparkling necklace that still hung about her neck.
"The masters gave them to me. Aren't they pretty?"
The three other spiders nodded enviously, one reaching out a long furry leg to 
touch the sparkly green robe.
"Who are your masters? We have no masters."
"Let Go Lass, Ta Worm, and Breathe Ill."
"Do they always give you presents? They don't try to hurt you?"
"No. They are nice masters. They have never hurt me. The masters are very kind. 
Look."
She pulled down one tightly wrapped ball of webbing and tore it open. Inside 
were several necklaces and gems.
The others gaped at the treasure and looked at one another.
"Perhaps we should have masters." They said enviously.
"We can't be nice to the Elves. They are mean to us." One of them hissed. "They 
hurt us and kill us!"
"They are nice masters. Come I will show you how to be nice. Come; come. I know 
where they keep the Magic Water!"
The three spiders started after Gwibess, looking quite uncertain about the whole 
thing.
"They will give us beautiful things, will they?"
"Yes. The masters are very kind and good."
The three looked at one another.
"If we drink their Magic Water, then they will be kind to us as well?"
"Yes. The Magic Water is good. Come with me. I know where they hide it."
The three spiders looked at one another again. They shrugged and followed 
Gwibess toward Gladaran Thamas.



Calenthar watched as Prince Legolas dug through his father's clothing, 
carelessly discarding any he felt were not suitable on the floor behind him. He 
was humming quite happily, holding up soft shimmering robes and admiring himself 
in the mirror, then tossing them over his shoulder onto the ever growing pile.
"My prince? Do you really think this is wise?" He managed to ask, as he hastily 
bent and began to lay the clothing on the bed.
"The king is good and wise." Legolas sang, and then laughed. "Good, wise and 
very, very sparkly." He held up a particularly shimmery green robe and shook it 
to watch the light dance off it. "Actually I think the Dwarves would like this 
one. They like sparkling, glittering things like gold and gems. They should be 
quite impressed with this one! And it is green, Calenthar! Green! Legolas the 
Sparkly Green! This is the one!" He held it against himself and spun around, 
then landed unceremoniously on the floor in a laughing heap. "Whoops! The king 
has slippery clothes!" Giggling he stood, brushing his hair from his face. 
"Where is Bilbo? I would really like his opinion on this. He knows the Dwarves 
so much better than I do. Bilbo? Are you here?" He hunted about the room unaware 
of the alarm that Calenthar was experiencing.
"Stay right there, Prince Legolas. I ...I will be right back." He fled the room 
and hurried to fetch Tanglinna. Legolas scarcely heard him as he turned to 
rummage in another chest, this one containing his father's crowns and circlets. 
Bilbo was tucked into a corner behind a rather ornately carved chair with a 
cushioned seat embroidered with tiny red flowers on a dark blue background. He 
couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face.
: Reminds me of Little Pip playing at dress up! : he thought, covering his mouth 
so his mirth wouldn't be heard. : Though she is a young girl and he is a grown 
Elf! :
Calenthar ran swiftly down the corridor on silent feet. 
: I wonder where the king is? : he thought frantically. : Please, Elbereth! 
Don't let him go to his room! I am begging you! : He knew well how Thranduil 
would react if he found his son in such a condition. Whatever that condition 
was!
He ran to the dungeons where Cuil and Tanglinna were awaiting his coming, 
supposedly with the hairbrush. He skidded to a halt before them.
"Did you find it?" Cuil asked with a smile.
Calenthar shook his head, catching his breath.
"Tanglinna...Prince Legolas...he..."
Tanglinna's eyes narrowed.
"What is it now? He didn't tie any squirrels to the giant bats so he could see 
them fly again, did he?"
"No. I ...I don't know what is wrong with him. He is acting...strangely."
Tanglinna scowled deeply and moved away.
Cuil turned to Calenthar.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I know not. He was behaving oddly when I found him."
"Well...Tanglinna will know what to do. Were Tavor and Brethil with him?"
"No. He was alone. Though he said something about someone named Bilbo."
"Bilbo?!" A voice chimed from within the cell. "Where is Bilbo? Have you seen 
him?"
The two Elves glanced uneasily at one another.
"He did say he was a Dwarf. That is - not a Dwarf. And he had furry feet." 
Calenthar murmured to Cuil.
"Furry footed Dwarf?" Cuil shook his head. "The king will not be pleased when he 
hears of this."
"I'm not telling him." Calenthar snorted, folding his arms over his chest.
Cuil raised an eyebrow.
"Well, I haven't seen this Dwarf or the prince. So I know nothing of the 
matter."
The two stared at one another and nodded conspiratorially at one another.
"There is nothing to tell." Cuil concluded. "Nothing at all."



The moment the older Elf with a spill of silver hair entered the room, Bilbo 
knew that he was not one to cross or try to fool. The Hobbit remained completely 
motionless behind the chair, not even aware that he was holding his breath. At 
that moment it wouldn't have mattered. Tanglinna's sharp eyes went to Legolas 
who was lying on the floor, one foot wriggling in the air as he struggled to 
pull on the green boots that just matched the robe. The Master Archer studied 
him for some time saying nothing, his arms folded across his chest, a smirk on 
his face. He sniffed the air like a wolf scenting his prey and shook his head. 
Where had the lad gotten pipeweed? He watched as his prince grunted and tugged 
at the boot, his foot finally slid in and dropped to the floor with a thunk.
"Ouch." Legolas lay with his arms thrown over his head for a moment and 
Tanglinna could hear a low humming coming from his throat.
"Ahem!" Tanglinna moved farther into the room. "What are you doing this fine 
evening, Prince Legolas?"
Legolas rolled his head to stare at the archer. He smiled woozily.
"Greetings, Tanglinna! Oof!" He pushed himself to a sitting position. "My but 
your hair looks beautiful in this light. All shiny and ...silver! And...I am 
doing very well this fine evening."
Tanglinna's lips twitched as he reached down one hand and pulled the younger Elf 
to his feet. "I will just bet you are." He said quietly. "Does your father know 
you are in here playing dress-up?"
"I am not playing dress-up." Legolas said in an offended voice. "I am 
just...dressing up. I am Legolas the Sparkly Green. And - oh! Look! Don't I 
sparkle nicely!" He spun about, his head thrown back, hair fanning out behind 
him. "Oh! And look! Isn't it just divine!" He staggered across to the bed 
somewhat dizzily and plucked up an ornate circlet of silver, shaped like oak 
leaves and dripping with emeralds. He jammed it onto his blonde locks and 
grinned happily. He sashayed over to the mirror and stared dreamily at his 
reflection.
"What have you been doing this fine evening, my prince?" Tanglinna repeated.
"I look so pretty, Tanglinna. The Dwarves will be so happy to see me!"
Tanglinna had a choice to make. He could either escort the prince down to his 
room and tuck him into bed with a strong cup of Vandal Root tea or - He smiled.
"Come, my prince. The Dwarves await."
"Wait! Wait! My pipe! I can't forget my pipe!"
"Your pipe?" Tanglinna's eyebrows rose.
Legolas dug through the pile of clothing on the bed until he had located his 
pipe. 
"Amlug o i Angol Osp Echor." He smiled, turning shining blue eyes on the Master 
Archer. "They are going to love me." He said, blowing a bubble.
"They already do, my prince. They already do."
He took Legolas' arm and steered him toward the doorway. In his mind's eye 
Tanglinna could see another Elf twirling dizzily about a clearing in a new 
kingdom founded in Greenwood the Great, blue eyes dazed and happy as he tried to 
dance with a rather surprised captive Goblin, the smell of an unusual leaf from 
the west drifting on the air. Tanglinna's green eyes shone.
"Like father, like son." He murmured and laughed.
Legolas joined him completely oblivious as to why they were laughing.
"Like father, like son." He repeated, then blew some bubbles into the air.



Thranduil, who had been feeling rather badly about imprisoning the Dwarves for 
no good reason, had been heading down the hallway, thinking that perhaps he 
should just let the Dwarves go. Have them escorted to the edge of Mirkwood - 
blindfolded of course - and let them travel on their merry way to where ever it 
was they were headed. He had drunk several glasses of rather nice wine made by 
Men in distant lands and felt rather magnanimous. Yes, it would look very good 
to let them go. After all what had they truly done, other than stir up the 
spiders. And everyone knew that it didn't take much to get the spiders started. 
Dreadful, horrid beasts! And as for those few that thought that his son was a 
girl - well, it was the fault of that awful pink tunic. And who could blame the 
Dwarves. Surely none of their women could rival any Elf, male or female. He had 
even heard a rumor that Dwarven ladies had beards to rival their men's. Yes, he 
should let them go. It was irritating to feed them any way. He sang quietly 
under his breath as he neared his room. He was only mildly surprised to see his 
door standing open. He eased into the room and stopped dead in his tracks, the 
words of his song dying in his throat.
Four spiders were in his room, trying on his clothing, which lay scattered about 
in great disarray. They were chattering at one another happily, fondling the 
silky materials, rubbing it against their faces and ...purring?
Thranduil stared at them, his eyes widening in shock that was swiftly turning to 
anger. His face reddened and his fists clenched.
"Get out!" he hissed, advancing on them, looking about for his sword. "GET 
OUT!!"
The spiders jumped surprised at the loud voice so close behind them.
"Who is that?" One asked, dropping a scarlet robe in surprise.
"Is that one of the Masters?"
"No." Gwibess hissed, hastily snatching a violet robe that she favored. "It is 
the loud one, Thrumb Dumb. Hurry, we must go. Hurry!"
The four spiders, snatching at garments ran hastily past the Elven King, who 
stood sputtering impotently at them. He glared after them, then turned to his 
room. His beautiful clothing was thrown about carelessly, his chests and trunks 
standing open. He breathed harshly through his mouth, preparing himself for a 
shout that would shake the very foundations of the palace and everyone in it.
"LEGOLAS!!!"
In the secret corridor that Gwibess had shown the others, the spiders cowered 
down, throwing their garments over their heads in fear.
"He is a bad one, he is." Gwibess whispered. "Very noisy!"
In the dungeons the Dwarves shook and wondered what had befallen now. Surely 
Smaug himself must be attacking. Bilbo jumped in spite of himself, holding 
tightly to the finger that his ring encircled. :Here we go again. : he thought. 
And the Elves of Mirkwood cringed wondering what the prince had done this time. 
Tanglinna smiled eagerly looking forward to the fireworks that would were 
coming. And Legolas merely blew a bubble.
"Uh oh." he sang. "I'm in trouble." He reached up and popped his bubble, 
giggling.



Chapter 15 - Golden locks of a Warrior



The four spiders crouched in the tunnel listening as Thrumb Dumb stormed down 
the hall muttering about Let Go Lass.

"He is not nice to my masters." Gwibess said with a hiss of dislike. "He is 
always yelling at them. He doesn't like them to give me presents. He likes to 
keep all the pretty things for himself."

"What have you done about him?"

"Done? What do you mean?" The rather innocent Gwibess asked.

"If you don't like him, why don't you do something to show him how you feel?"

"Let Go Lass is his ion! He wouldn't like that!"

"Ion? What is that?" Remmith asked.

"Someone he can do mean things to, just for fun." Gwibess hissed seriously.

"He is not nice." Cablas said, his eyes flashing. "We should do something. If he 
is not nice to the masters then we should protect them." He waved his long front 
legs about menacingly, his pincers flashing.

Gwibess looked worried and wondered if she had made a mistake in bringing them 
here.

"No.no."She began, her crimson eyes glowing. "They would not like that. He is 
their Aran."

"What is that?" Remmith asked, eyeing her sparkly necklace and wondering when he 
would get one himself.

"He is the one who yells the loudest, so he is their leader."

Cablas glanced at Hiwdil and grinned. Hiwdil winked four of his eyes.

"Don't worry, Gwibess. We will take care of him" The two spiders disappeared 
down the tunnel, hissing quietly at one another.

Gwibess watched them go with a feeling of dread apprehension.

"Where are they going?" She hissed at Remmith.

Remmith shrugged, reaching out to fondle the sparkling stones at Gwibess' 
throat.

"So, Gwibess. Where are my new masters?"



Brethil and Tavor had been at their homes when Thranduil had roared for his son, 
but word of it soon reached them. They met at a tall beech tree where the three 
had once built their own tree house. They stared at one another in silence for a 
moment. Finally Brethil spoke.

"What has he done do you suppose?" His eyes were wide. "We didn't have anything 
to do with it. Did we?"

"Of course not." Tavor retorted, though he found himself going over everything 
that had happened that day. But he could think of nothing that should call the 
king's wrath down on them. Again. "Of course not." He repeated. "He has done 
this by himself." He snorted. "I wonder what outfit he will have to wear this 
time."

Brethil was feeling rather sorry for his friend and frowned.

"We had better go see what happened." He said, turning toward the palace. "He 
may need our help. Or at least some moral support."

Tavor hesitated, his brows knitting.

"Um.perhaps we should wait a few moments. Let things die down a bit."

"Tavor! He may need our help." Brethil repeated his eyes narrowed in 
unaccustomed anger. "He needs us!" He turned abruptly and walked away.

Tavor stared after him in amazement, then shrugged.

"I will be so glad when those Dwarves leave. There has been nothing but trouble 
since they arrived." He muttered and moved reluctantly after Brethil.



Gloin felt rather hopeful after hearing the name Bilbo spoken by the Elves 
outside his cell. Was Bilbo here as well then? Was he a prisoner, too? That 
would not be so good, but the Hobbit had proved to be quite resourceful in the 
past and the Dwarf knew he would probably be able to do something about their 
predicament. Gloin had picked up some Elvish, not much, but more than he thought 
he would ever learn.

: Perhaps: he thought with a happy sigh. :If I learned enough Elvish I could 
compose a song for the maiden:

It would, after all, give him something to do during his captivity. He wondered 
how the others were faring and he wondered about Thorin. He hoped their leader 
was here and not still wandering about the woods, starved and lost. Or inside a 
spider's belly. He shuddered. No, best not to think that at all.

He sat humming in the darkness. It was a song that he had heard Elves singing as 
they passed by his cell on their way to another part of the palace. It had a 
rather jolly tune and though he didn't understand the words much he could mimic 
them rather nicely.

"Roll - roll - roll - roll roll-roll-rolling down the hole! Heave ho! Splash 
plump! Down they go, down they bump!"

He sang it a little louder, liking the feel of the strange words on his tongue.

The two Elves outside the cells looked up startled.

"What is that one singing?" Calenthar said, turning to Cuil.

The older Elf smiled.

"The barrel song!" he exclaimed. "Where did he learn that?"

Calenthar laughed merrily.

"This has been one rather strange night, has it not?"

"And will get stranger still."

They both turned to see Tanglinna coming down the torch lit hall toward them. 
The tall silver haired archer was grinning like a cat that had eaten all the 
cream, and Cuil and Calenthar wondered what this boded. A couple seconds later 
Prince Legolas came tripping lightly to join them.

"Greetings, Cuil! Greetings, Calenthar! Oops!" He slipped on the end of the long 
robe - Thranduil was slightly taller than his son - and grinned, sweeping a 
graceful bow at them. The ornate circlet slid on his locks and he grabbed at it, 
giggling. "Oopsies!"

Cuil's eyes widened in rather horrified surprise at the sight.

"Um.Tanglinna?"

The Master Archer gazed at him, eyes bright.

"He has come to serenade the Dwarves."

Cuil's brows rose.

"Is that wise?"

"The king is wise and good." Legolas sang. "Or is it good and wise? Where are 
they? My admirers." He moved passed the two guards and peered into Gloin's cell. 
"Oh! It is you!" he gasped in Westron. " 'Fair as a rose in May'."

Gloin looked up and stared in amazement at the vision outside his cell. He had 
not been the one to liken the fair Elf maiden to a rose in May - that had been 
Balin. But he cared not. She was here talking to him.

"Greetings, Master Dwarf."

The voice was deeper than Gloin had expected and for a moment doubt assailed 
him. He had imagined Elf maidens as having fair high voices. But perhaps he was 
wrong. It was a very pleasant voice, fair in its own way. What cared he if it 
wasn't exactly what he had expected. Dwarf maidens had rather gruff voices after 
all.

:Nay: he thought. :They were mistaken. This is a maiden:

"I have come to sing to you." Legolas continued, smiling sweetly. "Oh! And 
this!" He blew a few bubbles into the cell. "Aren't they very nice?"

Gloin watched with growing puzzlement at the shining orbs of soap. One popped on 
his nose and a small chime sounded. His eyes widened and he reached a stubby, 
calloused finger to pop another. He smiled and Legolas laughed with delight. 
Gloin turned to him and tugged off his rather forlorn white hood. His heart was 
playing a merry tune in his chest and he felt so happy and honored that he 
smiled widely.

"You came to sing to me?"

"How are you faring, Master Dwarf?" Blue eyes sparkled and shone in the dim 
light, showing concern for the prisoner held so cruelly by his father.

It touched Gloin's heart as not much else had - or would - in his life.

"Your father has been very gracious, my lady.' He answered, bowing, his hood in 
his hands.

"My lady!" Legolas snorted and fell to giggling once more.

Gloin was enchanted with the fair laughter. She was smiling at him - at him a 
Dwarf! - eyes lovely and bright. He bowed once more.

"Gloin at your service."

"Legolas the Sparkly Green at yours." He bowed, banging his head on the cell 
door. "Ouch!" He pushed the wayward circlet back into place.

Calenthar and Cuil exchanged worried glances.

"Tanglinna - " Cuil began.

"Let him get it out of his system, Cuil." The Master Archer grinned, leaning 
negligently against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "I'll put him to bed 
in a bit."

Calenthar glanced nervously at his companion.

"Where is the king?" he whispered.

Cuil shrugged and wondered the same thing remembering the muffled echoes of a 
shout heard earlier.

"I know not, but as long as he is not where we are we will be fine."

"Legolas." Gloin breathed. "The Sparkly Green." Elves did have rather strange 
names. "I am pleased to meet you, Princess Legolas."

"Princess Legolas!" the "princess" snorted with delight and turned to look at 
Tanglinna. "He called me "princess"." He broke into a fit of laughter, dropping 
to the floor in a green heap, his heavy circlet askew once more, the emeralds 
tinkling against one another musically.

Bilbo crept into this hall clinging to the shadows. He noted the doors of the 
cells and felt a moment's elation. He wondered how many of the Dwarves were 
here. The corridor continued down into darkness, a place the Hobbit had not 
explored before. He moved quietly to the darkest corner and sat down to wait. He 
had learned patience if nothing else here.

: Poor Prince Legolas! : he thought, shaking his head. : If I had known pipeweed 
would do this to him I would never have offered it! Wood Elves are very strange 
indeed. :

His eyes went to Tanglinna, who seemed more amused than he should be.

"You had better sing to the Dwarves, nin caun. [my prince] It grows late."

Legolas pushed himself up and straightened his green robes, then smiled 
beatifically.

"Of course." He turned to Gloin once more. "Do you have any requests?"

"Anything that comes from your silver throat will be glorious to my ears."

Legolas stared at him in wonder.

"Isn't that just the sweetest thing he could say? You have a golden tongue 
yourself, Master Gloin."

Gloin flushed with pleasure and lowered his eyes, smiling.

: She said my name. : he thought with deepest wonder and honor.

"Do you know a song we could sing together perchance?" Legolas asked. "Let him 
out!" He told Calenthar and Cuil. "Now." He glared imperiously at them when they 
hesitated.

They looked to Tanglinna who shrugged. What could one Dwarf do after all.

Cuil shook his head and pulled out the keys, unlocking Gloin's cell.

The Dwarf couldn't believe this was happening and stepped shyly into the hall to 
stand gazing up at his maiden. Her eyes were so bright, unnaturally bright he 
thought. But her beauty was overwhelming to him. He flushed again and dropped 
his eyes to the grey stone of the floor, wringing his hood in his hands.

"Are there any of our songs that you know, Master Gloin?"

"There .there is only one." He stammered. "Though I know not exactly what it 
might mean."

"What is it?" Legolas blew more bubbles, popping them and filling the air with 
music.

Gloin cleared his throat and sang the first part of the one song he knew from 
Mirkwood.

"The barrel song!" Legolas exclaimed. "I like that one! Let's sing it."

Two rather diverse voices filled the air beneath Gladaran Thamas: one deep and 
gruff; one fair and clear.

"Roll - roll - roll - roll - roll - roll - rolling down the hole! Heave ho! 
Splash plump! Down they go, down they bump!"

Tanglinna laughed soundlessly as he watched the impromptu duet. Even Calenthar 
and Cuil were trying not to burst into helpless mirth. Bilbo sat in his corner 
and clamped one hand over his own mouth, his eyes twinkling with amusement. This 
was something he would never forget!

At the end of the , which they sang many times, Legolas turned glowing eyes to 
the Dwarf.

"That was wonderful."

The applause of the watching Elves and the listening Dwarves who were still 
trying to figure out what was going on, filled the hallway and echoed off the 
stone ceiling.

Legolas made a graceful bow. Gloin turned red and managed to bend at his waist.

"Thank you." The Elf prince said. "Thank you." He turned to the Dwarf. "You have 
a very nice voice, rather like stone singing. If stone sings. Does it?"

Gloin stared up at him in some confusion. What was she speaking of? Stone 
singing.

But then Legolas bent and threw his arms about the stunned Dwarf.

"You are rather a sweet thing." He said straightening. "Is there anything that I 
can do for you, Master Gloin?"

The Dwarf was still reeling from the embrace. She did smell good, though both 
Balin and Nori were wrong. It wasn't roses or honeysuckle as they supposed. It 
was something more elusive than that. More like lilacs. Being emboldened by her 
graciousness, he bowed, and dared to kiss her slim pale hand.

"Nothing, my lady, unless it might be - unless it is permitted to ask, nay to 
name a single lock of your fair hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as 
the stars surpass the gems of the mine."

Bilbo started suddenly.

: Oh, poor Gloin! : he thought. : He will never learn. :

Legolas stared at the Dwarf.

"Have you ever heard anything asked so beautifully?" he said, drawing a slender 
ornamental dagger from the belt at his waist. It was encrusted with small white 
stones and the end set with a single emerald.

"Prince Legolas! What are you doing?" Cuil said, standing straight, his eyes 
worried.

"He asked a lock of my hair which surpasses the gold of the earth. Isn't that so 
lovely?" He grasped the warrior braid dangling at his left ear.

"No! Prince Legolas not that!"

"Why not it is my hair!"

"My prince." Tanglinna finally stepped forward, one hand raised to stop him. It 
was then that Thranduil entered, his face still full of anger. He halted 
abruptly, his eyes taking in the scene before him: Cuil and Calenthar looking 
stricken; Tanglinna moving toward Legolas, who stood with one braid clasped in 
slender fingers, a dagger held to slice it off; and a Dwarf looking positively 
love sick!

"What is this!?" He demanded. "Someone had better -!"

Just then Brethil and Tavor came round the corner at a dead run and Brethil 
bumped into the king sending him flying forward. Tanglinna gasped and moved to 
break his fall, bumping Legolas' arm.

Thranduil grunted as Tanglinna caught him, and prevented a rather embarrassing 
spill to the floor. He stood, eyes blazing as he turned to look at Brethil and 
Tavor.

Tavor knew he was dying this time. His heart had stopped.

Brethil just stood staring at Thranduil his mouth hanging open.

"I am so sorry." He began to stammer when they heard Legolas say:

"Here is your lock of hair, Master Gloin. With my compliments." And he handed 
the dazed Dwarf his warrior braid.





Author's Notes

The Barrel Song is in the Hobbit and is sung by the Wood Elves of Mirkwood. I 
thought it a rather silly song for Thranduil's Elves to sing, but since Master 
Tolkien himself said they did, then they did!

When Gloin asks for a lock of Legolas' hair this is almost a direct quote from 
FOTR. I think you know when!! Gimli's skilled tongue had to come from somewhere!



Chapter 16 - The Morning After



Prince Legolas Greenleaf was having the strangest dreams. There had been 
Dwarves; Dragons blowing bubbles; a Dwarf with furry feet smoking like a fiend; 
his father falling ungracefully to the floor; Tanglinna with a look of alarm on 
his face; Tavor looking as though he were dying; Brethil muttering over and over 
"I am so sorry"; a knife slicing off his hair. And a large spider also 
apologizing about something: "Master, I am so sorry! I tried to stop them!" He 
groaned, his eyes focusing with difficulty as he fought off sleep. He blinked 
blearily and stared at his ceiling. He felt rather unusual. Odd. Well, wondrous 
strange really. He swallowed in a dry throat and grimaced. Had he been ill? He 
couldn't remember being ill. Lethargy held him in its grip and it was with a 
heaving groan and a push that he managed to sit up. He sat staring at the thick 
carpet beneath his bare feet, his eyes having trouble focusing. He ran a hand 
over his face and shook his head. It almost felt as if he had drunk rather too 
strong a cup of Vandal Root tea. Maybe he had been ill. He sighed and pushed off 
the bed. It was then that he saw Tavor and Brethil staring at him from across 
the room.

"What are you two doing here?" He grumped, scowling as he staggered slightly to 
pour cool water from a silver pitcher into a large bowl on the dresser.

The two exchanged cautious glances.

"How.how are you feeling?" Brethil asked, his pale grey eyes wide with concern.

"Horrible." Mirkwood's prince growled and splashed water on his face.

"We should have taken out the mirror!" Brethil hissed, suddenly aware of the 
silvered glass on the dresser.

"Shut up, Brethil." Tavor hissed back, thumping him on the arm.

"But -"

"Shut up!"

Legolas turned to them, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"Will you both shut up!" He snapped and reached for the soft towel.

His friends glanced at one another again, both looking rather distressed.

"I told you that you made it too strong!" Brethil accused a little too loudly.

"Brethil!"

Legolas turned to glare at Tavor.

"What did you do to me?" His voice was low and full of menace. He dropped the 
towel back to the dresser.

Tavor's eyes widened and he took a step back.

"Well, you see, it wasn't really my idea. Actually Tanglinna rather suggested 
it."

Legolas advanced on him slowly, teeth bared in a feral snarl.

"Legolas! Wait! It was for your own good! Please, I was just doing it to help 
you!" Tavor backed away, hands held imploringly in front of him.

"What did you do to me?"

"It was just Vandal Root tea. Truly. To help you sleep! Please!"

Legolas hands loosened and he frowned. He sighed and ran a hand over his hair.

"Why did you give me Vandal Root tea? I wasn't ill, was I?"

Tavor glanced at Brethil.

"Well, not exactly. You see -"

"Shut up, Brethil." Tavor interjected quickly. "You weren't sick, Legolas. The 
effects should wear off soon. Why don't you come with us to breakfast?"

Legolas blinked and grimaced again. He hated the way it felt when Vandal Root 
wore off. And he was hungry, so he moved back to the dresser.

"That sounds good." He began to rummage through his clothing.

"You see, Tavor. He didn't even notice."

"Brethil!"

Legolas turned back to them, a shirt dangling from one hand.

"Notice what?" The dangerous note was back in his voice.

Tavor shut his eyes and shook his head. Would this never end?!

Brethil stood with his mouth slack, blinking rapidly.

"Um.that is.You look fine really. You can hardly tell! Truly, it is hardly 
noticeable at all! And you don't look so much like a pretty princess."

"Brethil! Will you never shut up!" Tavor rounded on him and stared at him in 
stunned disbelief. "You just don't know when to stop, do you!"

"What are you talking about?" Legolas demanded, his anger rising once again. 
"What do you mean it is hardly noticeable? What is hardly noticeable? And I 
don't look like a princess!" He spun and went to the mirror and stared at his 
reflection to see what was amiss. His face seemed a bit peaked, but that was the 
tea. His eyes seemed a bit vacant, but again the tea. He shook his head. There 
were no marks of any kind marring his fair face, so what did they mean? He was 
about to turn back to them, certain they were playing some sort of trick on him, 
when he saw it.

On the left side of his head, hair stuck out at an odd angle. His eyes widened 
in horror and he leaned against the dresser, his face almost touching the 
mirror's cold surface. He was breathing harshly through his mouth, trembling 
fingers reaching up to touch the shorn hairs.

"No.no." he murmured, looking in shock at what he saw. His warrior left warrior 
braid was gone! "nonononononono....."

"He's seen it." Brethil said quietly, a look of concerned distress on his fair 
face.

"He wouldn't have if you had kept quiet!"

"It isn't my fault he cut it off!"

Legolas turned to regard them, eyes huge.

"What did you say?"

"Don't you remember, Legolas?" Brethil said. "You cut it off and gave it to that 
Dwarf."

As many shrieks and bellows as had rung in the Hall of King Thranduil over the 
ages, very few ever impressed his subjects. But for many years to come they 
would remember the cries this day. As Legolas yelled in disbelief and 
mortification at one end of the Hall, King Thranduil looked in his own mirror 
and his own scream shoke the very foundations of Gladaran Thamas.



Legolas was staring into the mirror trying not to cry. His fingers were tangled 
in the short, mutilated strands of blonde hair, his eyes forlorn.

"I would not have done this." He repeated for the hundredth time. "I would not 
do this. I would not cut off my braid. I would not cut off my braid!"

Tavor felt highly uncomfortable with the entire situation and didn't know what 
to do. Brethil had joined Legolas at the dresser, a comforting hand laid on his 
shoulder.

"It will grow out in time, Legolas. It is hair after all. You look fine. No one 
will notice. Or not very much. They will pretend they don't notice anyway. They 
may stare at first, but then they will pretend not to see it."

"Shut up, Brethil!" Tavor exclaimed, staring at him in sheer disbelief.

"What is the problem, Tavor? I am trying to comfort him. He was very stupid last 
night and needs a friend who understands."

Tavor snorted.

"You understand being stupid very well, Brethil. Of that I am certain."

Legolas raised stricken eyes to his friends.

"What else did I do?" He asked, distress biting through him once more. "It can't 
be worse than this!" He turned to the mirror once more, praying to Elbereth that 
his reflection would have changed from what it was just seconds ago. "My braid." 
He moaned. "My Warrior Braid. What have I done!" He had been so proud the day he 
had received his Warrior's braids and had felt his child's intricate braid being 
loosed for the last time. "I would not have done this."

"Well, you can think of it this way, Legolas." Brethil said, comfortingly 
patting his shoulder. "You made that Dwarf very happy."

Legolas turned to look at him.

"What? The Dwarf?" Then slowly Brethil's earlier words surfaced: "Don't you 
remember, Legolas? You cut it off and gave it to that Dwarf." The Elf prince 
felt all the air squeeze from his lungs. "I.I gave it to a Dwarf?"

"Yes. Don't you recall? The one who thought you were a princess. You thought it 
was rather funny at the time." Brethil smiled, remembering what Cuil and 
Calenthar had told them of the strange night below the Hall. "Cuil said you 
laughed quite a lot and thought the Dwarf had a golden tongue and was quite a 
sweet thing. You even sang together. I wish I had heard you."

With every word that passed from Brethil's lips Legolas felt himself loosing 
touch with reality. This was impossible.

"That cannot be true." He murmured, trying to convince himself of that. But the 
snatches from his "dreams" kept trickling into his memory. "Legolas the Sparkly 
Green." He whispered, the words catching in his throat. He shook his head, 
denying what he now knew was not dream stuff, but memories. "No. It cannot be 
true. It cannot."

"Are you remembering it now? Well, we were coming to aid you when we heard that 
your father yelled at you. But I.um.guess." He glanced at Tavor as he remembered 
uncomfortably their part in this. "We should have stayed home. When I ran into 
your father and he nearly fell, well.Tavor nearly died. He said his heart 
stopped. And well, the look on your father's face nearly killed me as well. He 
was so angry and when you sliced off your braid." He shook his head and laughed 
slightly. "I wonder what your father is going to do to us."

Legolas barely heard him as he stared at his forlorn reflection.

As if on cue the door slammed open and Thranduil entered. His magnificent eyes 
were bright with great anger and indignation. His fists were clenched tightly at 
his side, his golden hair in glorious disarray.

:I will die this time: Tavor thought, his eyes wide. :I will really die this 
time. I wonder what that feels like? It can't be any worse than what I am 
feeling now. I have never felt worse than this. Never in my life. It must be 
rather nice in the Halls of Mandos. Nice and quiet. Not like here at all. 
Perhaps it will be nice to die:

"Stop looking in that mirror, little Greenleaf!" Thranduil ordered.

"But Father, I look - "

"AND HOW DO I LOOK!!" He roared.

Legolas turned to look at his father. His mouth dropped open and he blinked 
rapidly several times. Thranduil's handsome face had been rather skillfully made 
up, his cheeks touched with red, the eyelids a rich blue. His lips were painted 
a deep crimson. He looked rather beautiful in an overdone sort of way.

"You.you." Legolas began, his hair forgotten for the moment.

"I WHAT?!" Thranduil growled loudly.

Legolas' voice when it finally dislodged from his throat was small and 
tremulous.

"You look like a princess?"



Chapter 17 - Polishing Gems and Remmith's New Master



Tavor and Brethil followed Legolas down the hallway. The three were unusually 
subdued and they hadn't spoken for some time. Thranduil had pronounced his 
punishment and had gone to try and get the berry juice the spiders had used off 
his face.

"This.this really isn't going to be all that bad." Brethil finally said, a half 
hopeful smile on his lips. "How long could it possibly take to polish your 
father's jewels? Even he can't have that many.

Legolas shot a disbelieving glance at him and shook his head. Fingers reached to 
touch the short hair, which he had tried to tame into place with water.

"Where did you get the pipeweed, Legolas? Your room positively reeks of it." 
Tavor commented, somewhat relieved that he was still alive and not in the Halls 
of Mandos.

Legolas wondered where the Hobbit was. He had already decided that it would be 
in his own best interest to keep quiet. He was in enough trouble already and 
telling his father that yet another unwanted visitor was freely roaming the 
halls of Gladaran Thamas would only serve to get him into even more of a tangle 
than he was already in.

"Ai, Valar." He moaned as they came to the huge oaken door set with iron locks 
and hinges. "It will take us an Age to do this."

Iavas stood outside the door swinging the large key ring around his finger. He 
smiled when he saw them.

"Welcome to King Thranduil's Gem Room." He greeted them with a grin and unlocked 
the great door.

"You are being silly, Legolas. How long could it possibly take?" Brethil 
repeated. "How many sparkly gems could your father possibly have?"

Iavas smirked and shoved open the door.

"The cloths for polishing are in a chest just inside the door." He grinned 
again, patted Tavor's shoulder and moved down the corridor. "Oh! And Prince 
Legolas. I love what you have done with your hair." He laughed merrily and moved 
away, singing the barrel song.

Legolas stared after him in dismay, fingers straying once more to his shorn 
hair. He groaned.

"Does everyone know what happened?"

"If they don't by now, I am sure they will soon." Tavor said dismally. "Let's 
get started. This will probably take all day. Your father has more gems than - 
Great Valar!"

The three stood staring wide eyed into the Gem Room. It was vast. Boxes of every 
size and description littered the stone floor. Shelves had been hewn into the 
walls and boxes resided on them as well. Everything seemed well ordered, not 
thrown into a messy heap like a Dragon's Hoard would be, but the room was so 
huge that they could not discern the far wall in the dimness. At least they 
assumed there was a far wall.

"Valar." Legolas breathed. "It will take us three Ages to do this! And to think 
he collects more and more because he fears he has the smallest hoard of all the 
Elven Lords."

Even Brethil looked daunted.

"He must have more jewels than anyone!" He gasped. "How many boxes do you 
suppose there are? There must be thousands of them! How many gems are in each 
box I wonder. I would bet that no one has ever counted them all. I would guess 
-"

"Shut up, Brethil!" Tavor and Legolas both snapped.

"What? I was merely commenting that -"

We know, Brethil." Legolas sighed and shook his head. "We had better get 
started. Ai, Valar."

The three were soon seated on the chill floor, boxes of sparkling stones - some 
set in of silver or gold, some not - polishing away as quickly as they could. 
When they had first begun they had exclaimed and joked over some of the more 
spectacular stones, but even that soon grew wearisome. They did their work in 
near silence.

Brethil began to hum, low and quiet at first as he polished a rather large 
amethyst. Then he began to sing to himself, his voice fair and merry.

"Down the swift dark stream you go Back to lands you once did know! Leave the 
halls and caverns deep, Leave the northern mountains steep, Where the forest 
wide and dim Stoops in shadow grey and grim!"

"I wish the Dwarves would leave the halls and caverns deep and the northern 
mountains steep." Tavor snorted. "All of this is their fault."

Legolas glanced at him and shrugged.

"Things have certainly been - interesting - since they showed up. I think we are 
cursed." His fingers strayed to where his braid should have been. "I look 
ridiculous. It will take years for this to grow out. Are you sure I gave it to 
that Dwarf?"

"Oh, yes. We saw that part!" Brethil said, his eyes shining as he remembered. 
"It was so sweet really, now that I think about it. Of course at the time I was 
so terrified because I had run into your father. My, his eyes flashed with fury 
then! He scares me, Legolas."

"Well, he doesn't scare me." Tavor stated boldly, holding up a sapphire necklace 
to see if it were sparkling enough. "He is just as bad as we are, truly. He is 
immature as well, yelling like a spoiled child when things don't go his way. And 
punishing us like this for things that weren't really our fault. He -"

"I what, Tavor?"

Tavor gave a strangled cry at the voice behind them in the doorway and he 
dropped the necklace to the floor, his fingers suddenly numb.

Legolas turned to his father, fearing for his friend. Usually it was Brethil who 
spoke without thinking, though Brethil's comments were harmless and not snide as 
Tavor's had been.

Thranduil had scrubbed his face free of the "spider stuff" on his face, though 
his lips and cheeks seemed a bit too pink and blue still clung on his lids in a 
line just above his eyelashes.

Brethil's eyes were huge as he stared up at the king. The three hastily stood.

"Sire, I am so sorry." Tavor began, his heart thumping uncomfortably in his 
chest. "I truly did not know you were there. If I had - "

Thranduil merely stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"You wouldn't have insulted me by calling me immature and spoiled? No. I think 
not."

Tavor squirmed uncomfortably, knowing that those in the Halls of Mandos were 
expecting him at any moment.

"I am so sorry." He repeated. "I don't know what to say. I -"

"Then don't say anything! Learn to keep your mouth shut! And pick up my 
necklace!"

Tavor nodded and hastily bent to retrieve the abused sapphire.

Thranduil stared at the three of them, his eyes resting on Legolas last. If he 
hadn't been feeling so angry this morning he would have felt sorry for him. 
Legolas stared at his father forlornly, and then dropped his gaze to the floor, 
biting at his lips. His fingers twitched, but he didn't reach for his hair. The 
king shook his head in absolute frustration at this situation that had seemed to 
escalate to such a dizzying height that he was still reeling from all that had 
happened since those Dwarves had appeared at his front door as it were.

"Tanglinna!" He snapped and turned as the Master Archer entered the room.

Legolas had never seen such a carefully schooled stony expression on the older 
Elf's face before. He was still rather angry with him for what had happened lsat 
night. He hoped that his father had really let him have it. He glared at 
Tanglinna who merely shrugged slightly and smirked.

"Tanglinna is going to be joining you in your little task. We shall see who is 
"amused" by it when you are finished." Thranduil said with a harsh glance at 
Tanglinna.

The older Elf cringed slightly, remembering his no so carefully chosen words of 
explanation the night before.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes.

"And if even one gem, one necklace, trinket or bauble is missing when you are 
finished here, you will be stripped of your Warrior braids and made to wear your 
hair in a child's braid until whatever is missing has been found!"

"But how would you know if something was missing?" Brethil asked. "Truly your 
Majesty," He glanced about him at the boxes. "Even you can't know everything 
that you have."

Thranduil studied him, a sneer marring his lips.

"I know every last piece of jewelry and every last gemstone that I own. I can 
tell you where they are in here and where I got them. And when I got them. And 
if anything is missing." He glared at them sternly and with that he whirled 
about and stalked away.

The four Elves stood in silence for a moment.

"Well, how was I to know that." Brethil said in exasperation as the others' 
gazes rested on him.

"So you are part of our punishment, are you, Tanglinna?" Tavor asked, feeling 
relief well in him. Thranduil hadn't killed him and hadn't said anything about 
killing him. Perhaps he would live after all.

"Perhaps you are my punishment." The Master Archer commented snidely. "Having to 
spend interminable hours in here with the three of you for company is torture 
indeed. And well his Majesty knows it."

"The king is good and wise." Legolas murmured, then he burst into helpless 
laughter.

The others stared at him in amazement. But then they all realized how silly this 
whole thing was and joined him.

A while later as all four sat on the floor polishing, Brethil looked up and 
wiped his brow.

"I have just had a thought." He said brightly. "The spiders should come and help 
us. They have all those legs after all, they could get this done quite quickly."

All three of them turned to him and stared. Spiders in here? With Thranduil's 
gems? And not the smallest trinket was to be missing at the end of it? The 
spiders?

"Shut up, Brethil!" They all said and threw their polishing rags at him.

"What did I say?" He queried in annoyance. "It was just a thought! Honestly, I 
don't understand any of you at times. You would think that I said something 
stupid."



Remmith had been wandering the corridors, skillfully avoiding any of the 
inhabitants. He had slipped into one darkened room to wait as several Elves 
walked past, laughing merrily and speaking of the night before. They stopped 
outside the room and suddenly the door opened. Remmith tried to squeeze his 
rather large body behind the bed to hide.

Aralith laughed with his friends before bidding them good-bye and entering his 
room. He was still chuckling over the antics of his brother when he saw the 
huge, furry shape filling the space by his bed.

"Spider!" He gasped, his voice barely audible. "Spider!"

Remmith stared at the Elf who was staggering backwards toward the door.

"No! No!" He hissed and leapt out from his hiding place to jump between the 
terrified Elf and the door.

Aralith's heart jumped as he skidded to a halt, fear coursing through him as he 
realized he was trapped by the giant arachnid.

"I will do whatever you want!" He gasped, his eyes searching frantically for his 
Magic Spider Spray bottle. "Just please! Leave me alone!"

Remmith knew that he had found his new master. "I will give you anything you 
want." What could be better than that? So Remmith began to tell his new master 
just what it was he wanted.





Author's Notes - The snippet of song was from the Hobbit. It is another barrel 
song sung by the Wood Elves. Again I was too lazy to write one myself.


Chapter 18 - Here We Go Again!



"I really should tell him. Really I ought to just tell him. How much treasure 
could he possibly want? Greedy Elf King!"

Thorin Oakenshield sat in the dimness of his prison cell muttering to himself. 
It had been a dismal time for the proud Dwarf, the son of Thrain. Sitting in the 
dark brooding and bored was beginning to eat away at even his hardy, stubborn 
spirit. He would rather be out fighting Orcs as he had in the Battle of 
Azanulbizar, though that battle had been costly indeed. But what was this 
costing him? He moaned, feeling very sorry for himself. Yes, the Elves feed him, 
gave him wine to drink, and attended to his needs, but sitting here day after 
day, not knowing what had befallen his companions -grieving for them and cursing 
them in turn - was slowly driving him mad.

"Such a simple thing!" He said quietly. "Just tell that blasted Thranduil what 
he wants to know. How hard can that be! Such a simple thing. A simple thing."

But it was not so simple. To tell the Elf what he wanted would be to admit that 
an Elf had defeated him. And that would never happen! No Elf would ever defeat a 
Dwarf! Never! He pouted, now sitting with his arms folded over his chest. But, 
oh! He had never thought to be so tired of sitting in a stone room. He stood and 
began to pace.

"I really should just tell him!"

Outside his cell, two Elves shook their heads.

"What is he saying now?"

"I know not. The same thing he has been saying for days now. The Dwarf's 
language is so coarse and uncouth it begins to hurt my ears."

Laughing lightly at the poor prisoner they continued up the hall.

"How fares he?" The guard who sat outside the other Dwarf's cells asked, as they 
came into sight. "Still grumbling to himself?"

"Aye! It never ceases now. I wish King Thranduil would just let them go! They 
are quite a nuisance."

The guard laughed merrily.

"I think our good and wise King has had other things on his mind of late!"

The others laughed as well.

"It certainly has been entertaining! Were you here the night that -" He snorted 
with delight. "That Legolas the Sparkly Green made his appearance?"

"Nay! I wish I had been. Cuil and Calenthar told me all about it. I was down 
with that other one. I always seem to miss the fun! I could have been here 
watching the performance, but no, I was down in the "deep, dark" with the 
growling Dwarf."

"He is still growling in the "deep, dark". I almost feel sorry for him. I feel 
sorry for myself anyway, having to listen to his moaning and cursing. At least I 
think it is cursing. It is hard to tell."

Hidden in a shadowy corner, Bilbo felt a jolt of excitement. Was it possible 
that Thorin was indeed here? He had managed to locate the other eleven cells 
containing the remaining Dwarves since the night that Gloin had sung his duet 
and received a rather priceless gift from an Elf prince. But he had despaired of 
ever seeing Thorin. But now a glimmer of hope shone through. Perhaps his luck 
wasn't going to let him down after all! Silently he crept past the guards and 
headed down the torch lit corridor.

He heard Thorin's low muttering ere he saw the great oak and iron barred door. 
The leader of Thorin and Company was growling in Dwarvish so Bilbo couldn't 
understand what he was saying, thought the Dwarf's voice seemed despondent and 
defiant by turns. He moved to the door and whispered in the keyhole.

"Thorin! Thorin! Can you hear me?"

The Dwarf's voice faltered and he paused in his pacing. He stared wide-eyed at 
the door.

"Who is there?" He called. "Who is out there?"

"It is me! Bilbo Baggins! Thorin, are you well?"

The Dwarf stared at the door.

"Bilbo? The Burglar? No. That cannot be. Bilbo is far from here with the others. 
They have left me suffer this misery alone. Mahal curse them!"

"Thorin! Bother! Of course it is Bilbo! The others are here as well. We have 
been for quite some time, you know." The Hobbit glanced about, making certain 
that the guards weren't returning yet.

"Bilbo? Is it really you?" He ran to the door wishing that he were tall enough 
to see out the bars near the top. He spoke into the keyhole. "You are all really 
here! All of you!"

His voice sounded so jubilant and pitiful that Bilbo felt quite sorry for the 
rather proud Dwarf.

"We are all here. Never fear. We had quite an adventure, too, I can tell you." 
And he did. Thorin stood at the other side of the door listening in stunned 
amazement at the things that had befallen his companions after he had been taken 
by the Elves.

"You are quite a clever and resourceful fellow, Burglar Baggins." He said when 
Bilbo's tale - a rather longer one than Thorin thought was necessary - was 
finally finished. "I have a message that I need for you to deliver to the 
others. You must tell them that they are not - under any circumstances - to tell 
that Elf king anything about our errand here and they will be sorry if they even 
contemplate telling him about it!" He felt a flush rise to his cheeks as he said 
this, but no one would ever know of his own wavering.

"They wouldn't do that. They are doing quite well, actually. All except poor 
Gloin, that is." He shook his head remembering his last whispered conversation 
with that Dwarf. All that concerned Gloin was the fear that the Elven maiden 
would be in trouble for giving away a lock of her spun gold hair. "I fear he 
will never be the same."

"Well, tell them that we are not going to give that King Thranduil one small 
jewel if we can manage to help it. You will figure some way to get us out of 
this. I know you will. Then we won't have to share our treasure with him."

Bilbo sighed.

"It would be so much easier if you would just tell him and promise him a share." 
He said, knowing that it would fall on deaf ears.

"Never!" Thorin muttered. "He will never get anything from me, not after this 
shameful treatment."

"Very well." Bilbo said, in a rather resigned voice. "I will think of something. 
And I will tell the others what you have said." As he moved away, back up the 
corridor he said quietly to himself, "I would be glad to give him my share of 
the treasure if only it would free us from this place." But well he knew that 
Thorin would never agree to that either.

So it was that the Dwarves agreed with the message Thorin had sent to them, and 
very relieved they were to learn that he was alive and well, and here with them. 
Their spirits rose and they began to be hopeful.

"Gandalf always said that there was more about you than we knew." Balin said 
happily to him. "And that we would find that out before long. And well, by Aule, 
we have! Soon we will be sitting in our own halls of stone beneath the mountain, 
surrounded by our treasures from ages past. It will be wonderful." He paused 
deep in thought. "Who knows." He continued quietly. "Perhaps one day Khazad-dum 
will be ours again as well."

Bilbo shook his head as he thought on this. It seemed that was all these Dwarves 
thought of: reclaiming their lost treasures and glories of old.

"I will be content to be in my own chair in my own hole again, with a full 
pantry and the kettle singing merrily about tea time. And a pipe of Old Toby or 
Longbottom Leaf." At this thought the Hobbit laughed silently. "Poor old 
Legolas. I doubt he will ever forget any of this and will be quite glad to see 
us gone! But I shall miss that merry prince." He shook his head and returned to 
his little storeroom where he had spent the majority of his time in the Gladaran 
Thamas.



On the fifth day the penitents were released from their punishment. They managed 
to look quite repentant while Thranduil inspected box after box of glittering 
gems and jewelry. Finally he pronounced himself satisfied with their work and 
dismissed them, telling them to go and prepare for the feast the following 
night. The king had decided to throw another one, since the last ones had been 
interrupted by the Dwarves.

"And Legolas." He called after their departing forms, Tanglinna standing at his 
side. "See if you can find your brother, Aralith. He seems to be nowhere about."

Legolas nodded and went in search of his brother. When he, Tavor, and Brethil 
inspected his room, he was not to be found. But Tavor noted the spider hairs on 
the bed cover.

"You don't suppose." he began with a glance at Legolas. "I mean, you had 
mentioned that Gwibess had said something about other spiders wanting masters."

Legolas shook his head.

"I know not. I was not myself at that time." he added wryly. "She said that she 
had tried to stop them, but I don't know who they are." He shrugged. "He will 
show up.

"We should go and check on poor Gwibess. She must be quite distraught by all 
this." Brethil said, shaking his blonde head. "I still say you should at least 
have let her help us. She would rather have enjoyed it I think."

"Undoubtedly." Tavor snorted as they left Aralith's room. "Only she would have 
pocketed a few things on the way out and we would be wearing child's braids. 
That would be too humiliating, especially since your father is so graciously 
throwing another party. He probably would have made us sit with the children at 
their little table away from the adults. I couldn't survive that."

Brethil and Legolas looked at one another and grinned. Tavor took himself and 
his position in Mirkwood society much too seriously.

"Perhaps we should let Gwibess chose something from the Gem room. She did try to 
warn me after all." Legolas said, moving swiftly down the hall. "Father was 
surely exaggerating when he said he knew exactly how many jewels he has."

"And where he got them and when." Brethil added, trotting at his side.

"And in which box." Legolas finished.

"No!" Tavor called, hurrying to catch up to them. "You are not serious, are you 
Legolas? Please tell me you are not serious! Ai, Valar! Legolas! No!"

Brethil and Legolas broke into a run, laughing. Tavor stared after them, a look 
of horror on his fair face.

"Your father is going to kill us! Truly, kill us! Legolas! No!" He ran after 
them, dread welling in him. "I wish I was in Mandos Halls." He muttered. "At 
least you can't get into trouble there..at least I don't think so..not if you 
two aren't there.Wait!"



At that moment Aralith crept down the dim hall to the Gem room, a giant spider 
trailing him, hissing happily. The Elf prince trembled with fear, shuddering 
with horror. His life was shattered. The spider trailed him everywhere and his 
Magic Spider Spray was missing.

"I will get them for this!" he whispered. "I know Legolas, Tavor, and Brethil 
took it and set this spider on me! I will get them for this."

Remmith stayed practically on his heels until they arrived at the room. Aralith 
unlocked the door with the keys he had stealthily borrowed and opened the door. 
The spider took one look inside and began to dance with joy as Aralith opened 
box after box of newly polished gems. He had never seen so many sparkly things 
in his life. More even than Gwibess had!

Aralith moaned and backed out of the room.

"P.Please put them back when you are done." He told the spider. "And.and trouble 
me no more! Take what you want and leave! Please!" He fled down the hallway, 
leaving the spider happily pawing through the jewels looking for the perfect 
ones.



Later that day King Thranduil accompanied by Tanglinna, who had been ordered not 
to leave his side for some time to come, came to the Gem Room to pick some 
appropriate things for the feast. The king shoved open the door, only mildly 
surprised that it wasn't locked. But when he glanced inside he stopped dead in 
his tracks. Several of the boxes lay open on the floor, their contents spilled 
across the stone floor.

"What is this!" he yelled, stamping into the room. "Who has been here?!"

Tanglinna felt his brave heart quail.

"Oh, no." he breathed. "This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening!"

And once more the foundations of the grand hall of Thranduil shook.

'LEGOLAS!!!!!!!!!!!"



Chapter 19 - The Wild Berry War



King Thranduil of Mirkwood gave his people one of the greatest woodland feasts 
they had ever seen. There was food and wine in abundance, much laughter, 
singing, and dancing. The king was dressed in a magnificent robe of shifting 
autumnal colors that showed his tall, lean body to perfection, a crown of 
berries and russet colored leaves crowned his long golden locks. His midnight 
blue eyes sparkled with merriment. Nothing would ruin this feast.

But even as this thought crossed his mind, his eyes strayed to the children's 
table across the clearing. Seated at the shorter tables covered with green 
cloths embroidered with grape vines and butterflies were the children of 
Mirkwood. And seated in their midst were his youngest son, his two friends and 
the Master Archer, their long hair hanging down their backs in a single 
intricate braid. Tanglinna seemed very disconcerted as he sat with the giggling, 
laughing Elf children. And Tavor looked rather unsure of what to make of his 
present situation. But the looks of delight and great amusement on Legolas' and 
Brethil's faces gave the Elf king pause. They actually seemed to be enjoying 
themselves. He shook his head and reached for his wine, refusing to worry 
overmuch about anything this night.

Legolas was smiling at the antics of a small boy seated across from him. The 
child, one Celuon by name, was carefully sorting through the pile of berries on 
his plate, expecting each one carefully before eating them. His green gaze fixed 
on the Elf prince every few moments. Legolas smiled at him and picked up a plump 
berry from his own plate. He held it out to the child who inspected it then 
nodded. Legolas popped the berry into his mouth and grinned. The child grinned 
back.

"Legolas, what are you doing?" Tavor asked, feeling rather ridiculous seated at 
the much too small table in a much too small chair, knowing that he looked as 
silly as he felt. "One would think you were enjoying this."

Mirkwood's prince shrugged eating another berry deemed acceptable by his 
tablemate.

"Actually, I am. I always rather resented sitting here when I was a child, 
wanting to sit at the big tables with the grown-ups, but now it is rather 
enjoyable.'

Brethil was enjoying himself also, singing a rather silly duet with a golden 
haired girl child who was giggling helplessly before the song was done, her 
bright eyes watching him with undisguised admiration.

"I think Aralith would be happier here." He commented, looking to where Legolas' 
older brother sat beside Thranduil. "He doesn't look very festive."

Aralith wasn't feeling very festive. The spider Remmith wouldn't leave him 
alone. The giant beast haunted the young prince's room at night, demanding more 
and more sparkly things. His every waking moment was fraught with dread, fearing 
to see the lumbering arachnid bearing down on him at any moment. He sat now, 
surrounded by his family and friends, glancing about wondering where Remmith 
was. He had taken to trailing his father everywhere, knowing that the spider 
wouldn't dare to approach him if he were with Thrumb Dumb, the name the spider 
insisted was the king's.

"Where is my Magic Spider Spray?" he muttered quietly, his fingers tangling in 
his napkin. "Where is it? If only I could find it he would go away! Where is 
Mithrandir? He hasn't visited in so long. Why doesn't he come?!"

Celebross glanced at his brother.

"What are you talking about, Aralith?" he asked, shaking his silvery head in 
disbelief at his younger sibling. "Spider spray!" He snorted. "I thought you had 
outgrown that nonsense."

Tavor looked at Aralith and shook his head, but then he saw the gazes of some of 
the Elf maidens on him, the laughter quite evident on their fair faces. His own 
face flushed with red and he turned miserably away.

"Will this never end." He moaned, picking morosely at his food. "Will we ever 
stopped being punished for this? It wasn't even our fault. I mean, it wasn't 
Gwibess was it?" He looked to Legolas.

"I told you it wasn't. It was one of those other spiders." He deftly picked up 
one of his own and threw it at the child, hitting him on the top of his blonde 
head. He totally ignored Tanglinna's rather distressed look. "Gwibess said that 
there are three of them around here somewhere. They want masters." He laughed at 
the expression on the child's face. "It had to be one of them. But I am not 
telling father that there are now four spiders running loose here. You tell 
him."

Celuon picked up a berry, inspected it, then tossed it at Legolas who looked at 
him with mock surprise.

Tavor widened his eyes and snorted.

"I think not. Thank you all the same. But it really isn't fair. It wasn't our 
spider. And we really need to do something with her. She just can't come into 
the palace whenever she pleases." He shifted uncomfortably in his small seat. "I 
don't like this, Legolas. Baranri and Colmaidh are staring at us." His eyes 
wandered to the young maidens once more, their hands over their mouths as they 
whispered back and forth to one another, their eyes dancing with amusement as 
they stared at the children's tables.

Celaer, Brethil's little admirer had thrown a plump blueberry at him, and was 
giggling wildly as he threw one back.

"They are staring at you , Tavor. You look so grumpy. Rather like the king on a 
bad day." He threw another berry at the child, smiling at her.

"Don't start that again, young one!" Tanglinna snapped, his gaze going to his 
king, fearing that Thranduil's sharp ears would pick up on their words and bring 
even more anger down on them. "An no more talk about spiders either!"

"Start what, old sourpuss." Legolas said, launching a berry at the Master 
Archer. It hit him squarely on the nose.

Calaer squealed with laughter at the look on Tanglinna's long- suffering 
dignified face. Celuon's eyes widened uncertainly then he made a careful 
inspection of a berry and threw it at Tanglinna as well.

Legolas glanced at Brethil, who grinned as his eyes slide to Tavor.

"Oh, no. I am not getting involved in this." Tavor stated, folding his arms over 
his chest and managing to overbalance himself in the tiny chair. He fell 
backwards with a woof of surprise. Suddenly Legolas and Brethil were pelting his 
prone form with berries, laughing like the children who had soon followed suit.

Tanglinna couldn't prevent his smile as he unfolded from his own chair, his 
fingers curling about some berries as well. But they didn't fly at Tavor. They 
landed solidly on Legolas and Brethil.

Soon bread and berries flew about the children's tables, amidst their shrieks of 
joy.

The grown-ups stared at them from their own tables and Thranduil shook his head 
and stood. Aralith looked panicked as he moved away across the grass, and he 
leapt up and followed.

"Wait for me, Adar!"

Thranduil threw an exasperated glance at his middle son - he was really becoming 
quite tiresome - and headed to where the food fight was in progress.

"What is this?" He asked, glaring at them.

The children instantly subsided, eyes wide as the king stared down at them from 
his impressive height, arms folded over his chest.

"Get up, Tavor." He said, looking down at the younger Elf, who rolled rather 
ungracefully to his feet, wiping at the berry juice stains on his festive tunic. 
Tavor took one glance at the king and looked at the ground.

"Ai, Valar." He whispered. "Not again!"

Brethil had dropped the last of his berries onto the ground, and stood looking 
anywhere but at Thranduil. Tanglinna stood with his eyes wide and blank. 
Completely innocent looking, or so he thought. But Legolas still held a handful 
of the berries, his blue eyes dancing.

"What is this?" Thranduil repeated, his eyes turned to each in turn.

"Nothing, Sire. Merely children being.children." Tanglinna answered, keeping his 
gaze straight ahead of him, which unfortunately was now on Legolas. : Don't even 
think it, nin caun : he thought at the prince who was looking decidedly 
mischievous.

For once Brethil managed to keep quiet though the words crowded in the area of 
his throat, begging for release. Tavor refused to look at anyone, though he 
could feel Tanglinna's great discomfort.

Thranduil gazed at his son, who was struggling to control what looked 
suspiciously like a smile of delight.

"Legolas. What is this behavior? You are too old to be acting in such a childish 
manner. Throwing your food. Honestly, will you never grow up."

Legolas shrugged.

"I doubt it, father." He tugged on his long pale child's braid that lay over his 
shoulder with the hand not cupped about the berries. "Twould seem I will always 
be a child."

Tanglinna groaned and shook his head imperceptibly.

"Don't." he hissed, drawing the king's gaze to himself.

"Did you have something to add, Tanglinna?"

"No, Sire. Not I."

"I didn't think so." His blue gaze returned to Legolas. "After all that has 
happened, how can you behave like this? Surely the pipeweed has worn off."

Legolas raised one dark brow as if say "perhaps it has, but who is to say."

Thranduil stared at him and narrowed his eyes. But before he could say or do 
anything in answer, a berry bounced off his dignified brow and caught in his 
autumn crown.

Legolas couldn't prevent the laugh from bursting forth and he looked at the 
berry thrower, young Celuon, who was smiling rather proudly at his handiwork.

Thranduil stared down at the imp whose eyes sparkled with laughter.

"And who, my I ask, taught you that trick, Celuon?" he asked plucking the berry 
from his crown and holding it between his fingers.

The child giggled and pointed to Legolas. Thranduil raised one brow and tossed 
the berry at his son. Legolas gasped and then smiled wickedly at his father and 
threw his handful of berries all at once.

Tanglinna gasped in shock and stared at the two royal Elves before him. They 
would never any of them grow up, he thought with something akin to amusement. 
Tavor groaned, wondering how much more undignified things could get when Brethil 
launched an attack on him. Tavor growled and picked up his own neat plate of 
berries and proceeded to throw them at his friends.

The children were all laughing and shrieking, clapping their hands with joy and 
throwing any thing that came to hand. Their parents and the other Elves began to 
laugh as they watched the wild berry war continue until all the combatants were 
laughing too hard to continue. Thranduil moved around the table to embrace his 
son, chuckling with delight.

"Mayhap I should wear a child's braid as well." He said, staring down into his 
son's shining blue eyes. "At times I fear I am too serious."

Legolas shrugged.

"That is not what I have heard." His eyes went to Tanglinna, who suddenly shook 
his head rather violently. "I heard that you once danced with a Goblin." He 
grinned widely. "And seemed to enjoy it right much."

Thranduil turned to stab Tanglinna with his eyes.

"And where did you hear that?" he asked, knowing quite well where that story had 
come from.

Legolas shrugged again, feeling that he had gotten his revenge on Tanglinna 
whose eyes were huge, rimmed with fear.

"Oh, I don't recall. Though it was rather a funny story. I shall have to tell 
Bilbo."

"Bilbo?" Thranduil asked, straightening his robes as he glared at the Master 
Archer. "Who is Bilbo?"

Legolas choked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Did I.did I say Bilbo? I.I." He grimaced an looked at the ground.

"Yes, you did say it. Who or what is Bilbo?" Thranduil stared at him.

Legolas swallowed.

: I am turning into Brethil : he thought miserably.

"Haven't you told him, Legolas? It is really a rather interesting tale, your 
Majesty." Brethil began, his eyes bright as he warmed to the tale that Legolas 
had told them during their time of punishment in the Gem Room. "You see, Bilbo 
is - "

"Shut up, Brethil!"

They all turned to Thranduil who had uttered the words. The king shook his head 
and adjusted his crown.

"Truly shut up. I do not wish to know. Now, may we finish our feast in peace?" 
He turned to the four. "If you wish you may join us at the grown ups table 
and.you may fix your hair if you wish."

Legolas grinned, relieved that Thranduil put an end to Brethil's story ere it 
began.

"If you don't mind, father, I think I will finish the feast here." He winked at 
Celuon, who grinned.

"And I as well, Sire." Brethil said, taking Celaer's hand and leading her into 
the clearing as the music began once again.

Tanglinna looked at Tavor who shrugged, but was pulling on his braid to free it.

"We will abide here as well, your Majesty. If it pleases you."

Thranduil shook his head in amusement then nodded. Slowly he moved back to his 
seat to watch the dancers, Aralith on his heels. Legolas had carried small 
Celuon out to join the others who were dancing happily. He perched the youngster 
on his hip and spun him about, both laughing happily. Tavor was delighted and 
surprised when Baranri and Colmaidh came up to him, running slender fingers 
through his loosened hair and invited him to join them in the dance as well. He 
smiled quite pleased with himself and followed them across the grass. Tanglinna 
had just reseated himself when a solemn eyed girl with tiny flowers braided into 
her long locks came and sat on his lap. She stared up at him with shining eyes 
and, tugging one of the flower chains from her own hair, adorned him with it. He 
smiled and carried her out to the dance.

Thranduil watched it all with amused eyes. This was indeed a feast that they 
would never forget.



Chapter 20 - Brethilitis Strikes Again



"I know you will think of something, Mr. Invisible Baggins!" Thorin whispered 
into the keyhole when Bilbo next visited him. "I have only the greatest faith in 
your abilities! You are nearly as much use to us as the Wizard now. Drat him for 
disappearing when we needed him."

Bilbo grimaced slightly and bid farewell to the Dwarf.

: Bother! : he thought as he crept back up the passage way and into the more 
inhabited part of the palace. : Those Dwarves are more trouble than they are 
worth! No amount of treasure will make up for this! I only have one ring and 
there are thirteen of them! How am I to get them out of here? Those blasted 
doors seem to be the only way out of this confusing place. What am I to do? :

His furry feet carried him to Legolas' room. The activity about the palace was 
rather subdued that day as the feast of the night before had been very festive 
indeed. Legolas was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling; his blue eyes 
somewhat blank. Bilbo slipped his ring into his pocket and climbed onto the bed, 
smiling.

"Rather late in the day to be lazing in bed." He said cheerfully. When he 
received no response, he frowned and bent over the prince. "Prince Legolas?" The 
Elf remained motionless. The poor Hobbit felt a stab of fear pass through him. 
What if he was dead? What if the pipeweed had at last killed him? "Legolas! 
Legolas!" He shook the Elf looking into those staring blue eyes.

Legolas' eyes focused and he blinked, rather startled by Bilbo seated on his 
knees beside him shaking him rather forcefully.

"What is it?" he said, sitting up. "What is wrong? Bilbo?"

Bilbo stared at him.

"I .I thought you were." He shook his head. "Your eyes were open and you weren't 
responding."

Legolas stretched catlike and stared at the Hobbit.

"I was asleep, Bilbo. I had a rather late night."

"Asleep? But your eyes were open. How could you be sleeping?"

The Elf prince laughed merrily. He felt in quite a good mood and smiled down at 
the Hobbit, whose blue eyes were filled with confusion and concern.

"All Elves sleep with their eyes open, Bilbo. Unless we are ill or hurt. And 
what are you doing in here anyway? Where have you been these past days?" Even as 
he said this he thought : Do I really want to know? : He knew that his father 
was not one to let anything slip by him, and he had mentioned the Hobbit's name 
the night before. Then Brethil had started to blurt out everything he knew in 
typical Brethil fashion before Thranduil had stopped him. His father may not 
have wanted to know whom Bilbo was last night, but Legolas feared that Thranduil 
might want to know today. Truly, his father never forgot anything. "Never mind." 
He muttered, looking down at the cover on his bed. It was best not to know. And 
he couldn't get in trouble for something he didn't know. Well, maybe not.

"I have been visiting the Dwarves."

Legolas raised his dark brows and got out of the bed.

"And how are they faring?" he asked politely, moving to wash his face, which had 
suddenly reddened as he recalled what had happened the Dreadful Night of the 
Pipeweed Incident as he had come to think of it. He stared into his mirror and 
pushed distractedly at the hair sticking up on the left side of his head. "They 
are all well, aren't they? We have been feeding them, you know. They are no 
longer starving." He still felt somewhat guilty about not feeding them when they 
had happened on them in the woods.

"Oh, no, they are no longer starving. They are all doing quite well actually." 
The Hobbit laughed and slipped from the bed and moved to the chair he had 
inhabited when portraying Silivren Hithlain Man. "Bombur doesn't want to leave."

"Oh? And why is that?" Legolas splashed water on his face and dried it.

Bilbo chuckled remembering his conversation with the Dwarf. Bombur was rather 
enjoying his time of imprisonment. His guards had soon found him to be something 
of a connoisseur of foodstuffs and had delighted in bringing him delicacies from 
the kitchens that were meant for the king's table. They enjoyed his critiques, 
thought he never seemed to have anything bad to say about anything placed before 
him.

Legolas smiled at this, having heard much the same thing from some of the Elf 
guards. He frowned once more at his hair muttering again as his slender fingers 
tried once more to weave it - unsuccessfully - into a longer braid somewhat 
further back on his head then it normally would have been.

Bilbo smiled over at him, and shook his head.

"I really am rather sorry about the pipeweed, Prince Legolas. If I had known how 
you would react to it I never would have given it to you."

"If I had known how I would react I never would have taken it." The Elf 
rejoined, pushing yet again at his wet hair with his fingers. "I can't believe I 
cut my Warrior braid off." He said, glaring at his reflection. "And gave it to a 
Dwarf!"

"Gloin is quite thrilled with it." The Hobbit continued, looking amused. "He 
keeps it near his heart. He was all concern for your welfare after it happened."

"I am pleased to hear it." Legolas said sarcastically, then a worried frown 
creased his brow. "He doesn't still think that I am a female, does he?"

"Well." Bilbo shrugged. "I am afraid he does, though he mentioned that your 
voice was deeper than he imagined."

"My voice?" He snorted, then paused. "Bilbo, did I really sing with the Dwarf?"

"You did. And a very nice song it was, too. Something about rolling down a 
hole." The Hobbit laughed remembering that night. "Your voices complimented one 
another nicely. Though I was rather surprised that Gloin knew any songs in 
Elvish."

"The barrel song." Legolas groaned, leaning forward to rest his hands on the 
dresser and shaking his head. "I hate that song."

"What is the barrel song?" Bilbo asked curiously.

"It is a song that we sing about the empty barrels that we float out of the 
palace and down the river. We import many of our things from other places. 
Especially the wines. They come from our kin in the south or from the Men. 
Valar!" he sighed, looking at his mutilated hair once more.

"You float the barrels down the river? The one that runs in front of the 
castle?" Bilbo sat forward, suddenly feeling a dim ray of hope.

"Yes. Celon o Tinnu - the River of Night."

"Do you roll the barrels out of the magic doors then?" Bilbo asked excitedly.

"No. They are pushed into the water and go out the water-gate. Some of them go 
to Long Lake. There is a settlement of Men there living on an island. The only 
way to reach it is by crossing one of their many bridges." He snorted, twisting 
at his hair and giving himself a headache. "They fear the Dragon of course."

Bilbo started.

"Dragon? Did you say Dragon?" : Perhaps, : he thought gleefully. : I am useful!:

He listened to the prince rattle on and on about Smaug the great Dragon that 
inhabited Erebor. And how it hoarded all the Dwarves treasures that were 
supposedly in the mountain. But while he continued to speak Bilbo heard 
something that the prince did not: footsteps approaching the room. He hastily 
shoved his ring onto his finger and slid out of the chair and under the bed.

"I have always wanted to see a Dragon." Legolas was saying, pleased with himself 
now that the hair had at last been forced into a tight braid that he continued 
to weave it in with some longer strands. "I know that is foolish, but I am sure 
Dragons are quite impressive. That is why I like my bubble pipe so much. It has 
a Dragon's head on it, remember? They must be quite enormous. Don't you think 
so, Bilbo?" He turned to the Hobbit, but he was gone.

"Who are you talking to, little Greenleaf?"

He spun and found his father standing in the doorway, one brow raised.

Blue eyes frantically searched his room for any sign of the Hobbit. But he was 
nowhere to be seen. He gulped slightly and turned to his father.

"I.um.that is.I was just." His eyes widened as they met Thranduil's. His father 
did not look amused as he had the night before.

"Little Greenleaf, I believe that there are some things we need to discuss." He 
said, his own eyes roaming about the room for the elusive Bilbo.

"Oh? I can't imagine what. Wasn't.wasn't the feast last night wonderful?" He 
smiled tremulously. "And.and the children were so sweet and cute and -"

Thranduil's brow rose further.

"And did you see Tanglinna dancing with Lendlaes? She is so small and cute and 
he looked rather ungainly. Almost like you must have looked dancing with the 
Goblin when you smoked.pipeweed.in.the forest." He faltered and swallowed. Then 
he groaned. : There must be magic afoot here! : he thought desperately. : 
Because I have turned into Brethil:

Thranduil's face reddened and his eyes narrowed. He had not had an amusing night 
after the feast. Aralith had trailed him to his room, insisting that he wanted 
to spend the remainder of the night there and not in his own room. And when at 
last he had wrested the reason for his son's great fear from him - more spiders 
in the palace!! - he had lost his mellow mood and spent the rest of the night 
brooding and growling. And now his son mentioned that time with the Goblin!! No 
one was supposed to remember that! He had specifically told all those who had 
been with him at the time to forget about it! But it seemed someone had not. : I 
should have made them drink water from Morn Nen : he thought angrily.

"What did you say?" he asked in a low dangerous voice.

"Nothing?"

Thranduil breathed slowly several times through his nose, feeling the heat in 
his face cool a bit.

"It seems we have more to discuss than I first thought." He managed in a normal 
voice. "You had better come with me now."

Legolas' shoulders slumped and he grimaced. He glanced once more in the mirror 
only to find that his braid had come loose and his short hair was free once 
more.

"This is not going to be a good day." He said morosely.

"What are you saying now, little Greenleaf?" Thranduil called back from the 
hallway.

"Nothing. I am saying nothing. Ai, Valar. When will I learn to keep my mouth 
shut. I am turning into Brethil. This is not going to be a good day." And he 
followed his father down the hallway, kicking at the floor.

Bilbo waited until they were gone before slipping from under the bed.

"Water-gate, eh?" He smiled. "I will have to find out about this water-gate." He 
left the room, quietly and on invisible feet. "Thank you again, Prince Legolas. 
This has turned out to be a rather good day for me!" And he hurried down the 
corridors toward the cellars.

Author's Note

Yes. I know that Bilbo learned about the water-gate by lurking in corners and 
listening to the king's servants talking about it. But I changed it a little. 
Canon people I apologize, but hey! It is more fun this way.


Chapter 21 - Shrieking Spiders



Legolas followed Thranduil into his bedroom and was somewhat startled to see 
Aralith standing there, fretting in the corner. The two brothers stared at one 
another - Aralith glaring and Legolas frowning - as Thranduil moved to seat 
himself in a comfortable chair. He sat straight, his arms resting lightly on the 
chairs, his eyes unreadable.

"It is his fault, father." Aralith began. "I know it is. Who else lets spiders 
into the palace!"

: Spiders? : Legolas thought with confusion. "What spiders?" he asked feeling 
slight exasperation rise in him. What had he said about spiders lately? He 
thought he was here because of Bilbo.

"It seems," Thranduil interrupted before Aralith could give vent to his own ire. 
"That Aralith is being.uh, followed by a spider. Here in the palace. Do you know 
anything about this, Legolas?"

"Of course not. Gwibess wouldn't follow him around."

Aralith glared at him.

"You are the only one who seems to want them in the palace. How many of them are 
there?" He asked in an accusing tone. He truly didn't like having his fear ever 
before him and wanted the stalking to end. He shuddered involuntarily, eyes 
darting about the room wondering where the spider was right now.

Legolas frowned again. He had no idea how many of them there were or for that 
matter where they were. He didn't even know where Gwibess was. Then he thought 
back to his father's face the morning after the "Dread Pipeweed Incident", 
perfectly made up. The other spiders. He swallowed. Were they still here?

"Are we remembering now, little Greenleaf?" Thranduil asked, a rather too bland 
expression on his face. He, too, was wondering if Aralith's spider was one of 
the ones that had decorated his face with berry juice.

The youngest Mirkwood prince grimaced.

"I .I really don't know how many there are. But I didn't let them in! Father, 
you know I wouldn't do that!"

"Do I?" Thranduil raised one elegant eyebrow. "Well, you are going to let them 
out. Today! Go find Tavor and Brethil and get them out of here."

Legolas sighed and nodded. At least his father hadn't mentioned Bilbo. Perhaps 
Thranduil would forget about Bilbo if they could make the spider chase an 
interesting enough tale.

Aralith scowled at him, folding his arms over his chest.

"And make sure they take them far from here, Father." He said smugly.

"Make sure they take them far from here?" Thranduil said, turning to his middle 
son. "But you are going with them, Aralith."

A strangled cry emitted from his throat and Aralith turned imploringly to his 
father.

"But.but you can't send me with them!" he began.

"I can and I am. It is time you faced up to your fears and conquered them. This 
seems a good place to start. A prince of Mirkwood afraid of spiders indeed." 
Thranduil looked quite pleased with his solution to the spider problem and 
watched his sons smugly.

Legolas tried to hide his own satisfied smile as he whispered: "The king is wise 
and good." But Thranduil noted it and turned to him.

"And little Greenleaf. When the spiders have been taken care of, you are to come 
find me. And by then you had better have a good answer to this question: Who is 
Bilbo?"

Stifling a groan Legolas left the room, followed by a muttering Aralith.

"This is all your fault, little brother." Aralith hissed. "We had better find 
that monster fast!" He shuddered and glanced down the torch lit hall. "I can't 
take this any more. I hate spiders!"

Legolas shook his head.

"Go get your bow and meet us by our old tree house."

"My bow?!" He gasped. "Alone? You want me to go to my room alone?!"

Mirkwood's youngest prince turned to look at his brother. He could see the dread 
and fear in the dark blue eyes. He almost felt sorry for him. But not quite 
enough. How many times had the roles been reversed? How many times had Aralith 
tormented him about Silivren Hithlain Man? He laughed.

"Yes. Alone. Unless you are afraid the big bad spider it going to get you first. 
Where is your Magic Spider Spray, big brother?""

Aralith narrowed his eyes.

"Very well, Legolas the Sparkly Green! At least I still have all my hair!" With 
that he spun away toward his room, ignoring the fear that hammered in his heart.

Legolas' fingers strayed to his hair.

"Ai, Valar." He moaned. "When will all this end? Why did we ever think taming 
Gwibess was a good thing! Wild spiders loose in the palace! Taking father's 
jewelry and robes. And then I will have to make up something about Bilbo." He 
shook his head. "I wish those Dwarves had never come to Mirkwood. I wonder why 
they did. And to think Bombur doesn't want to leave." His eyes widened. What 
could that mean? He frowned trying to remember exactly what he and Bilbo had 
been discussing. It had been about the Dwarves. Bombur didn't want to leave, and 
Gloin was thrilled with the Warrior braid that resided by his heart. And the 
song they had sung: the barrel song. "I hate that song." He whispered, walking 
down the hallway toward the magic doors. And then they had spoken of the empty 
barrels floating down the river. And the water-gate. Bilbo had seemed to be 
particularly interested in that part of the conversation. And then the island of 
the Men. And the Dragon in Erebor. Piece by slow piece the puzzle fell into 
place in his mind. "Oh, no!" he groaned. "Bilbo is going to free the Dwarves! 
Oh, no. And I know about it! Ai, Valar! I know about it!! I don't want to know. 
I don't want to know.I don't want to know! No! That can't be it! That can't! 
It.It is something else! Yes. He isn't going to free the Dwarves.he really 
isn't.he really." he groaned. "He really is. He is.and Father is going to ask me 
all about it.Elbereth help me! I can't afford another attack of Brethilitis!" 
Then slowly a twisted grin crossed his face. "Maybe a spider will get me first. 
Yes. That would solve everything. A spider bite! Yes! I will have to get one of 
them to bite me. Yes! That is the solution!"

Several Elves glanced in concern at their prince as he passed out the magic 
doors, muttering to himself about spider bites.



Remmith, Hiwdil, and Cablas had found an unused storage room that they had made 
their own. Since Remmith had acquired Aralith as a Master, the other two felt 
they didn't need one, since this one gave them anything they asked for. Many 
sparkling things adorned their room and several soft, glowing robes adorned 
their large bloated bodies.

"Who needs Masters?" They creaked happily, fondling their treasures.

"I think Gwibess is foolish to have Masters." Hiwdil said, stroking his long 
violet robe, his many eyes riveted on the silver, gold, and green stitching on 
the hem and the sleeves. "I look very nice. Perhaps I should be the Aran. [king] 
I wonder how loud I can be."

Cablas and Remmith exchanged skeptical glances.

"Why would you want to be the Aran of the shining ones?" Cablas asked, holding 
up a mithril chain with a smooth white stone dangling from it.

"THEN I COULD HAVE ALL THE SPARKLY THINGS AND SOFT ROBES FOR MYSELF! How was 
that?" He looked at his two fellow arachnids, grinning, fangs flashing.

They winced at the unexpected shriek and stopped their ears with their front 
legs.

"You have a lot now." Cablas said. "Remmith's new Master brings us everything we 
want. And I don't think the shining ones would like one of us as their Aran. 
They hate us!"

"And besides that," Remmith commented, lowering his legs. "You weren't nearly as 
loud as Thrumb Dumb."

"I wasn't?" He cleared his throat. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN I WASN'T AS LOUD AS THRUMB 
DUMB!!?? Was that better?" He smiled hopefully.

Remmith shook his furry head and put on an emerald necklace.

"Not nearly as loud."

"HOW ABOUT NOW!!!"

"Not yet." Cablas commented dryly wondering how long they would have to listen 
to Hiwdil trying to out-shriek Mirkwood's Aran.



"What is that?" Tavor asked, hearing a rather high pitched sound bounce down the 
corridor they were walking in as they hunted for the wayward spiders.

"Spiders!" Aralith shrieked and jumped forward to grab Tavor's arm, his dark 
blue eyes wide with terror.

Tavor grimaced and shook his hand off.

"Really, Prince Aralith." He said, shaking his head with disbelief. "You should 
learn to control yourself. Honestly."

"Just as you controlled yourself when you called my father immature and a 
spoiled child? Or when you tamed a spider? A spider?!" Aralith shot back.

Tavor turned to stare at him.

"How do you know what I said?" He asked, his face reddening.

"I know a lot of things. The three of you never control yourselves! You always 
do things without thinking. That is why we are here hunting spiders! In the 
palace!"

Brethil stared at him and shook his head.

"We are really sorry about that spider, Prince Aralith. Honestly, we don't know 
where it came from. Gwibess is a harmless spider. She would never hurt anyone. 
She is really rather sweet for a spider. And she looks so cute in Legolas 
sparkly green robes from the feasts. And when she puts on the jewelry we gave 
her - well, your father doesn't look as pretty as she does! And well, it is true 
that we were going to use her to scare you, but-"

"Shut up, Brethil!" Tavor and Aralith hissed.

Only Legolas remained silent. He was still wondering how he could manage to get 
a spider to bite him.



Chapter 22 - To Bite or Not to Bite



While the four Elves were searching for the spiders, Bilbo had gone in search of 
the water-gate. He made his way down the corridors that led past several of the 
Dwarves' cells, but he didn't stop to chat. Though he paused in front of 
Bombur's. The door was standing open and Bilbo could see the two guards inside 
and he could hear their merry laughter.

"That was quite good." He heard Bombur say. "Very light and fluffy. And very 
sweet!"

Bilbo could hear smacking noises as the Dwarf licked his fingers in delight.

"And what is that?" He exclaimed as his guards presented him with another 
dainty.

Bilbo shook his head in dismay.

: He will never want to leave! : He thought in despair and moved quietly on his 
way. What were they to do if the Dwarves refused to go? He knew that Thorin was 
chomping at the bit as it were and they couldn't leave fast enough! But Bombur 
and possibly Gloin were going to be problems. :Oh, bother those Dwarves! :

Parts of the hallway were not lit and the Hobbit had to feel his way along the 
wall with his hand. He could tell he was traveling downward, the floor sloping 
slightly beneath his feet. Presently he heard voices and soon entered a large 
cave like room where the ceiling had been cut away and covered with huge oaken 
trapdoors. Many, many barrels stood in this room and he crept to hide behind a 
rather large one. Several Elves were there talking and laughing together. It 
seemed that Legolas the Sparkly Green was still worthy of tales as they were 
discussing the youngest prince. Bilbo shook his head, feeling rather guilty 
about that night. But soon the talk turned to the party of the night before and 
the great fun they all had.

"Lots of empty barrels will be floating out today." One of them commented. "The 
men of Lake-town will know that we have had a party!"

The others laughed with him.

"Do you remember the time that the Tricksy Trio decided to float one of the 
barrel rafts to Lake-town themselves?" A tall Elf asked the others, his eyes 
alight with humor.

"Yea! And their poles got stuck in the river's bottom and Brethil wouldn't let 
go of his and he was stuck in the middle of the river clinging to his pole as 
the raft bearing Prince Legolas and Tavor floated away!"

Bilbo smiled as the Elves laughed at the exploits of the Tricksy Trio. Truly, 
they seemed a fun bunch. So perhaps things like this happened all the time here 
in Gladaran Thamas. He felt a little better. Then as he watched quietly, the 
Elves pushed several barrels into the water and opened the water-gate. Slowly 
they drifted out and were caught by the current and bobbed away.

: I wonder: he mused as he watched this operation for several moments. Then they 
came for his barrel and he slipped silently away. : Perhaps Mr. Invisible 
Baggins has an idea after all! :



Another shriek split the air as the Tricksy Trio and Aralith neared an area 
reserved for storage.

"They are in there!" Aralith gasped, clutching his bow.

"Obviously." Tavor commented dryly. "What are they doing do you suppose?" He 
asked Legolas. "Are we going to shoot them?" He glanced at Aralith whom he 
didn't trust not to shoot one of them in his current state of fear.

"Shoot them?" Legolas looked at him. He hadn't thought about how they would get 
the spiders out of the palace in his own current state of worry about the 
Question. "No. We cannot shoot them. I need them to bite me." He added to 
himself.

Another loud shriek shook the hall. Followed by what had to be spider laughter.

"What are they doing?" Brethil asked, with a smile on his face. He grabbed a 
torch from the lily shaped iron sconce on the wall. "They sound rather like the 
king in one of his moods."

"Don't let him hear you say that!" Legolas gulped. "We are in enough trouble. 
You.you don't suppose one would bite me, do you?" He asked hopefully, blue eyes 
wide with scant hope.

Tavor and Brethil turned to stare at him.

"Why are you worrying about that? You haven't been bitten in years." Tavor said, 
his eyes watching his friend with suspicious concern.

"He is just being silly and trying to help Aralith to get over his fear." 
Brethil said, smiling at Legolas for his supposed kindness to his brother. "You 
are so nice, Legolas."

Legolas frowned over at him, his dark brows knit in consternation. : No: he 
thought. :I really want one to bite me! :

Tavor moved forward, took the torch from Brethil, and pushed the door open. He 
wondering how many were in the room. He hoped it wasn't too many. That could get 
rather awkward, not to mention that it would draw entirely too much attention to 
them. And he was getting very tired of all the attention that had been lavished 
on them of late.

When the spiders saw the Elves they glanced at one another then they all 
shrieked as loudly as they could. They had talked themselves into believing that 
if they impressed any Elves with their loud shrieks then just perhaps one of 
them could be the Aran. Hiwdil was no longer the only one wishing to rule over 
the shining ones. They turned bright expectant eyes to the Elves, who were 
staring at them in astonishment.

"Who was louder, Shining Ones?" Remmith hissed, moving toward them. "It was I, 
wasn't it?" Then he caught sight of his own master. "Oh, Master! Did you hear 
me? I was as loud as your Adar. I just know that I was!" He leapt toward Aralith 
in excitement, crimson eyes alit with great pleasure.

The frightened prince gave a strangled cry and fled down the hall, his bow 
clattering on the floor.

"Ai, Valar." Tavor muttered. "Come on, spiders. Let's go." He motioned with his 
hand and turned to lead them from the room, fully expecting them to obey him 
instantly.

But the spiders didn't follow. Remmith was staring sadly down the hall after his 
master. He had come to like the cowardly prince during their time together and 
was rather distressed that the Elf ran every time he came into sight. Or 
shrieked himself, with fright. Hiwdil and Cablas were watching the other three, 
hoping that they would drop to their knees before the spider that had shrieked 
the loudest and name him their leader. Two of the Elves had turned to stare at 
the departing form of Remmith's master, then turned and spoke to one another in 
low musical voices, exchanging pitying yet irritated glances. But the other one 
was staring at the spiders with such a strange expression on his face that the 
spiders quaked slightly with apprehension. What was wrong with him?

Legolas took several deep breaths and edged closer to the arachnids.

"Please." He whispered in a fevered voice. "Bite me."

Cablas and Hiwdil shot confused glances at one another. Surely they had 
misunderstood what he had said.

"Please! Bite me! I need you to bite me!"

"What is he saying?" Cablas whispered hastily to his comrade.

"He.he wants us to bite him." Hiwdil whispered back, torn between wanting to 
flee the obviously insane Elf and oblige him. He had never bitten an Elf in his 
short life and he sincerely wanted to. But he knew that his shriek had been the 
loudest and he feared that biting this one might damage his chances of becoming 
the Aran. But the slim Elf did look tasty! He inched forward, wondering which 
desire was stronger.

But suddenly Brethil stepped forward and whapped the indecisive spider on the 
head with Aralith's discarded bow.

"None of that now. Come along. King Thranduil wants you to leave today and we 
are here to escort you out. Uh.may they take their.their sparkly things?" he 
asked quietly.

Tavor frowned, staring at the many jewels that flickered in the light of the 
torch. He looked to Legolas, uncertain as to what they should do. It would 
probably be easier to let the spiders take their loot and go than try to get 
them to leave without it. But the look of desperation on the other's face gave 
him pause.

"Legolas? What is it? Do we let them take the jewels or not? Does your father 
know how many they have.uh.accumulated? What did he tell you about it? What did 
your father say?"

Legolas moaned. "He said that I had better have an answer for the Question.and I 
don't! Please bite me!" He held his arm out to Hiwdil.

"Legolas what are you doing?" Brethil asked. "Why do you want that spider to 
bite you?"

"I told you! I don't have an answer to the Question!"

"What question?" Brethil asked, truly curious.

"The Question! Ai, Valar! The Question! Just bite me!"

Cablas stared at him in horror. There were many stories that the spiders told 
one another about the Shining Ones that hunted them so ruthlessly. For the first 
time fear shot through the young spider as he stared at the one standing before 
him, the white teeth bared, blues eyes flashing and one arm outstretched.

"They are mad!" he hissed. "Mad!" He shrieked in fear and leapt over the Elves, 
skittering across the ceiling to the door and fled down the hall, some of his 
jewels slipping to the floor in his haste.

Brethil and Tavor shot panicked looks at one another.

"It's getting away!" Brethil stated, watching it clamber over the stone ceiling, 
moving much faster than should have been possible.

"I see that, Brethil!" Tavor snorted in disgust. "Go after it!"

"Oh! Yes." And Brethil ran lightly down the hall.

Remmith watched his fleeing companion disappear into the darkness followed by 
the Elf who was calling after it. He turned to look at the two remaining Shining 
Ones and Hiwdil. Hiwdil was staring fixedly at the one that was Remmith's 
master's gwador. [brother] The two were bound by blood to suffer under the Aran 
who was their Adar as well. He knew the look in his fellow spider's eyes only 
too well. He was going to bite someone!

"Elbereth help us!" He creaked and leapt from the room, hurrying down the 
hallway after Brethil and Cablas as fast as his long, slender legs could carry 
him.

Tavor gasped and turned to stare after the spider.

"What did it just say?" he said to no one in particular. "Did he just say 
'Elbereth help us'? Did a spider just call on Elbereth?!"

But Legolas was not listening to him and neither was the spider whose red gaze 
was fixed on Mirkwood's prince.

"He wants me to bite him!" he hissed. "He wants me to bite him!!" He bared his 
fangs and darted forward.





Chapter 23 - Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Aran



Thranduil had seated himself in the pleasant family garden admiring the 
profusion of colorful chrysanthemums blooming about him. The tall stalks of 
golden rod and wild asters swayed in the cool breeze of an early Ivanneth 
[September]. He took a deep breath of the autumn laden air and poured himself a 
fragrant cup of tea. Muffins stuffed with plump berries and chopped apples lay 
atop a plate edged in silver. The sky above was a crisp blue and fluffy white 
clouds drifted overhead.

Soon the spiders would be out of the palace; he would have his bed to himself 
once more; and they would have a great feast to celebrate this return to 
normalcy. Perhaps a Hunt was in order as well. It had been quite some time since 
the last one when their quarry had escaped toward Morn Nen.

He sighed happily, sipping his tea and allowing his thoughts to wander 
pleasantly.

Suddenly the peace of the morning was shattered as a grunting, hissing noise 
assailed his ears. He turned, frowning to see a spider trying to squeeze its way 
out of a window that opened in the hillside at ground level. He watched as it 
scrabbled with its four front legs at the wall, twisting itself and pushing to 
get free.

"It is mad!" It hissed frantically. "It is mad!"

With a final great contortion of its body it plopped to the ground. It shook 
itself and started to run, but then it saw Thranduil staring at it in amazement 
and shock.

"Thrumb Dumb!" It muttered, just as amazed and shocked.

"Did you address me?!" Thranduil asked feeling rather affronted.

Cablas stared at the Aran. Perhaps now was the time to test his shriek. If he 
was louder than Thrumb Dumb then he could order that made one to be locked 
safely away. Not to mention all the jewels and robes he would receive. He stared 
at the beautiful one that the King of the Shining Ones was wearing enviously. He 
rose to his full height and moved toward Thranduil, challenge sparkling in his 
eyes.

The king of Mirkwood stood, his own eyes flashing fire.

"I am warning you, spawn of Ungoliant," he began in a fierce voice.

But the spider rose onto its four back legs and shrieked for all it was worth, 
after all the kingship of Mirkwood was at stake. It's four front legs waved 
wildly in the air in a manner that he hoped Thrumb Dumb would find menacing.

Thranduil had started at the sudden noise, but then he scowled fiercely.

"GET OUT OF MY PALACE!!!!!!!!!!!"

Cablas froze, his mouth hanging open, his shriek dying in his throat. He stared 
down at the Elf king in shock, then he turned and fled thinking,: I will never 
be that loud! They are all mad! Who wants to be the Aran of a race of insane 
pointy -eared beasts! :

Thranduil stood panting with rage, his fists clenched. It was then that he saw 
Brethil climb gracefully through the same window, bow in hand. The young Elf saw 
the king and froze, his mouth falling open.

"Uh.your Majesty!.Mae Govannen! I was just.that is we were just chasing the 
spiders out of the palace like you asked us to. Though Aralith ran away before 
we could really start. He really is afraid of them, isn't he? And well, Legolas 
was acting very strangely, too. Not that he was afraid, mind you. No, just the 
opposite actually. He wanted the spiders to bite him. Honestly," Brethil shook 
his head, scarcely pausing for breath. "I don't know why "The Question" would 
disturb him so much. Do you know what "Question" he is talking about? Oh, I am 
sure you do. You are the king." He bowed. "And the king is wise and good, or is 
it good and wise? So what "Question" was it? Was that you screaming? Oh, yes. I 
thought that it must be - "

"Shut up, Brethil!!" Thranduil barked, his hands moving to clench his temples. 
He suddenly had a very bad headache. "Just.just tell me what is going on. In as 
few words as is possible for you." He managed to say, fingers gripping in his 
hair.

"I thought I was." Brethil answered, quite unaware of the affect he had on the 
king. "Shall I continue or should I start over? We were just chasing the spiders 
out of the - "

At that moment Remmith struggled through the window and fell into an ungainly 
heap on the ground. He too hesitated as he jumped up when he saw Thranduil. He 
seemed to consider something then he moved to face the king. And he shrieked.

Thranduil's eyes widened and his head throbbed unmercifully. He glared at the 
arachnid and bellowed as only he could.

Brethil stared at them in shock, wincing and covering his ears.

Remmith's voice died first in utter surprise at the volume the slender Elf could 
emit. His bid for the kingship was over. He shrugged. He had not truly wanted to 
be the Aran of the Shining Ones anyway. He clasped his jewels tightly against 
his chest and ran into the trees.

Thranduil turned to Brethil.

"Were those spiders wearing my jewels?" he asked in a soft deadly, somewhat 
hoarse voice. "And my clothes?!"

Brethil stared after the spiders.

"Well, yes. Actually I think they were. They seem to prefer your clothing for 
some reason. I guess they are much nicer than anyone else's. And they do look 
rather lovely in them, don't you think? Not as nice as yourself of course. But 
rather nice for spiders. Now Gwibess looks rather stunning in.in." Brethil's 
voice faltered as Thranduil advanced on him, fists clenched at his sides, 
handsome face contorted and red with anger. "I know.Shut up, Brethil." And with 
that he bowed and hastily followed after the spiders leaving the king glaring at 
nothing but the chrysanthemums.

Anger simmered in his brain turning all the bright colors of the sky, trees, and 
flowers a strange shade of scarlet that matched his countenance.

"LEGOLAS!!!" He shrieked and even Hiwdil knew that he had just lost the kingship 
that he was certain he had just acquired since the mad Elf was kneeling before 
him, clasping his bitten arm to his chest and crying "Thank you! Thank you!"



Tavor stared at Legolas a look of mystified distress on his face, the grey eyes 
wide. What had just happened?!

Hiwdil, upon hearing the Aran's last roar, which sounded suspiciously like "Let 
Go Lass" the one he feared he had just bitten, jumped into the air in fright. He 
then threw off his jewels and robes and bolted from the room, moaning in terror.

Tavor stared after him for a moment then turned back to Legolas who was bent 
double, rocking back and forth. He moved to place the torch in a wall sconce by 
the door and hastily knelt by his friend.

"Legolas, are you alright? Legolas!"

The prince raised his head and Tavor didn't know if he should be relieved or 
more alarmed. A smile graced his face, the blue eyes bright with triumph.

"It bit me!" he exclaimed happily. "It bit me! Do you see? It bit me!" He held 
out his arm for Tavor's inspection.

Tavor swallowed at his fear and took the proffered arm. He pushed aside the torn 
tunic and stared at the skin beneath. He looked back at Legolas who was nodding 
his head back and forth in delight. He let out a great sigh.

"Oh, thank Elbereth! It didn't break the skin." Tavor laughed, feeling somewhat 
better, though Legolas' current behavior troubled him. "That silly spider didn't 
bite anything but your tunic sleeve. You're fine. Truly, stop worrying."

"What!?" Legolas snatched his arm back and contorted it to look at the torn 
sleeve and the untouched skin of his arm. "No. No! He was supposed to bite me! 
Valar!" He leapt up. "What am I to do now?" He hunted about the room for his 
bow. "Where did it go? I will shoot it if it doesn't bite me properly this 
time!"

Tavor stood staring at him aghast.

"Legolas.um.I think you had better sit down. You seem a bit.overwrought." He 
took Legolas' arm, wondering how he could get word to someone begging for their 
help. Where was Brethil when he needed him?

"No, I can't do that. I have to find that spider!" His bow lay on the floor a 
few feet away. He scooped it up and pushed past Tavor.

"No! Legolas! Wait!" He moved after his friend, grabbing his arm tightly to halt 
him.

The prince stared at him impatiently.

"Let me go, Tavor. I have to catch that spider before it gets away!"

"It.it is long gone, I am sure. It was running very fast. You will never catch 
it and besides," he added for good measure. "You don't know which way it ran."

Legolas stared at him. Then his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"What am I to do then?" He stared down the empty hall, his brows knit in 
thought. Suddenly his face brightened. "Where is Gwibess?" He asked suddenly.

"Gwibess?" Tavor didn't like the turn this was taking. "I am sure I do not know. 
Come with me, Legolas. Perhaps Nestadren should take a look at you. You .you 
don't look well." : I wonder where the Healer is. : he thought, trying to push 
aside his fear.

But little Greenleaf would not be deterred from his determined course.

"I have to find Gwibess." And he pulled away, trotting down the hall.

Tavor shook his head and started after him. Where was everyone?!

"At least tell me what is going on. If I am to get in trouble yet again, I at 
least deserve to know what I am going to be punished for."

Legolas sighed, anxiety biting through him.

"Where is Brethil?" he asked. If he were going to tell someone it was not going 
to be Brethil.

"He went after the other two spiders. What is going on, Legolas?" Suddenly he 
paled. "Your.your father was yelling for you. Ai, Valar! What have we done now! 
Oh, Brethil! What have you done!?"

Legolas gulped.

"Oh, no. Brethil knows about Bilbo, doesn't he? Ai! He has told father about 
Bilbo and then father will know the Dwarves are going to escape and the I knew 
it and didn't tell him!" He stared at Tavor in horror. "We have got to get out 
of here!"

Tavor blinked several times and shook his head. Then he nodded.

"Quickly."

The two stared at one another, then trotted swiftly up the corridor.

But just as they neared the main hall and escape they heard something that 
stopped their hearts.

"LEGOLAS! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

The young Elves skidded to a halt, panting with fright. Thranduil would have 
them cornered unless they escaped now. It was then that Tanglinna appeared, his 
face full of consternation. Screaming Elf Kings this early in the morning was 
not a good sign. His eyes lit immediately on the two.

Legolas shook his head and threw a pleading glance in his direction.

But it was Thranduil next shout that decided the Master Archer's course. He 
scowled at his prince and his friend and turned away deliberately and 
disappeared, moving perhaps more quickly than was necessary away from them and 
away from the approaching King.

"Hurry! We'll go out my window!" Legolas decided and they turned and hurried as 
soundlessly as possible toward the living quarters.

They met Celebross in the hall. He frowned at them.

"What are you two up to now? I thought you were supposed to be chasing the 
spiders. And why is father yelling at you again, Legolas? And why is Aralith 
cowering under his bed?"

Legolas shook his head.

"I don't have time to talk now, Celebross. Tell father.tell father that we.that 
we are still chasing after the spiders." He grimaced as yet another piercing 
roar filled the air, much too close. "Please!"

Celebross sighed and nodded, remembering when he and Aralith had fled the castle 
to escape the earlier fireworks.

"Elbereth help you. Hurry! I will try and stall him. Though that may be nigh 
impossible. He sounds very angry."

Legolas smiled in relief and then grabbed Tavor's arm and rushed to his room.

Gwibess was there, prancing about in one of Legolas sheer green robes that were 
worn for the spring feasts. She looked up at them excitedly.

"Don't I look beautiful?" She crooned at them, waiting for the praise that was 
usually forth coming from the masters.

"Oh, Gwibess." Legolas groaned. "We can't leave her here. Come one, Gwibby. We 
have to go. Quickly!"

"What is wrong, Master Let Go Lass?" she asked as they pushed her toward the 
window, which had never seemed so small before.

"We need to .to.we are going camping for a while." Tavor improvised and then 
shrugged as Legolas gave him an odd look. "And what would you have said?" he 
asked.

"Fine. We are going camping, Gwibess. But we have to leave right now."

"Is that the Aran shrieking? Oh, dear Elbereth. He gets louder and louder. Is 
that why we are hurrying? Doesn't he want the nice Masters to go camping?"

The two shoved her into the window.

"Oh! Masters, the window is too small!" She grunted, feeling her body wedge 
tightly.

Tavor and Legolas leaned with their backs against her and pushed with all their 
might, their boots sliding on the floor with the effort.

"Oh, Masters! I can't move! Help me! I am stuck!" Her legs that remained in the 
room thrashed about in fear. "Help me, Masters!"

The two turned and pushed again, but she didn't budge.

"What.are.we.to.do?" Tavor panted, straining against the spiders bloated, hairy 
body.

"Keep pushing! We.have to. get..her out of here! Push Gwibess! Push!"

The spider grunted and pushed with all her might against the outside wall, 
trying to wriggle free.

Just then the bedroom door flew open and Thranduil stood there, his face 
suffused with red, his eyes narrowed blue chips of ice. He stood staring at 
them, his mouth twisted in anger. Celebross stood behind him, his face 
apologetic.

"Ai, Valar." Tavor moaned, trying not to think of Mandos Halls, and failing 
miserably. "Now I know how Glorfindel felt when he faced the Balrog. Only he was 
much braver than I. Ai, Elbereth, please let it be quick. Don't let me suffer, I 
beg you!"

"Shut up, Tavor." Legolas continued to strain against the spider, which squealed 
slightly, kicking even more frantically. His eyes never left his father's face, 
but he couldn't give up now. They were too close to escape.

"Legolas, what are you doing?" Thranduil asked, controlling his voice. His 
throat was feeling rather raw at present.

"Um.Getting the spiders out of the palace?" His feet slipped and he nearly fell.

"Why are they using the windows? And why are they shrieking at me!?"

"I.I.I don't know. You know how spiders are." He grinned weakly, but Thranduil's 
frown just deepened. "We've fed her entirely too much." He moaned to Tavor 
renewing his efforts.

"Is that spider wearing my robe?" Thranduil asked advancing on them.

"No. It is mine. You know I wouldn't let her wear yours.any more." Legolas could 
feel panic rising in him and what he feared was an attack of Brethilitis coming 
on. He knew the symptoms well: the tightness in his chest; the ache on his 
tongue; his brain feeling very hot and squeezed. "Ai, Valar! Not now."

Thranduil was nearly upon them and Legolas felt everything that he didn't want 
to tell his father rise in his throat when Gwibess popped free and fell out of 
the window. Tavor and Legolas fell against the wall and then with a quick 
panicked look at one another they launched themselves after the spider. They 
scrambled to their feet, urging Gwibess to run. She scrambled to her feet, 
throwing a look of disgust at Thrumb Dumb who stood in the window and shot after 
them.


Chapter 24 - The Problem with Dwarves



Over the next few days Bilbo had several conversations with Thorin. He didn't 
tell the Dwarf of his plan as he was still working out the details, but he 
assured him that soon they would be on their way.

"It had better be soon, Mr. Invisible Baggins," Thorin had said. "It is still 
some way yet to our.destination." He ended in a whisper, ever fearful that sharp 
Elven ears might hear any carelessly chosen word he uttered.

"I am working on it, Thorin," Bilbo assured him. His plan was fairly simple and 
should - he hoped - work quite well. It was the Dwarves' willingness to leave 
that troubled him. He sighed as he crept away from Thorin's cell. Most were more 
than ready to be rid of this place, but Bombur and Gloin were reluctant to 
depart. He decided to visit them first and perhaps persuade them that it was 
indeed time to flee the hospitality of King Thranduil.

Bombur was alone for once, humming happily to himself.

"Bombur! Bombur! Can you hear me?"

The Dwarf turned then stood, a smile lighting his face.

"How are you, Bilbo?" he asked politely.

"I am quite well, thank you. How are you?"

"Oh, I am very well," Bombur said sounding very pleased and excited as he came 
top whisper at the keyhole. "You will never guess what is going to happen!"

"Well, no. I don't suppose that I could." A feeling of apprehension filled the 
Hobbit. He was certain that it would mean the Dwarf would be even more reluctant 
to go.

"Then I will tell you! Oh, Bilbo," he gasped, clapping his hands together in 
glee. "The Elves have asked me to make something for the King's feast!"

"What? The King's feast? But, Bombur," he spluttered, blinking rapidly in 
surprise. "When is the King's feast? My goodness! Those Elves certainly do like 
their feasts! Not that I blame them, but Bombur.we will be leaving soon!"

"Oh, yes. I know that. You don't suppose the others could be convinced to stay? 
Just a little longer," he said hopefully.

:Oh, bother! Here we go again! : Bilbo thought wearily.

"No, Bombur. I can't see them wanting to stay locked in their cells any longer 
than is absolutely necessary."

"That is too bad. I have rather enjoyed it here." The Dwarf heaved a great sigh. 
"We will be here for the feast, won't we? It will be in just a few days." That 
wasn't entirely true, but Bilbo wouldn't know that.

"Well, I suppose we will," Bilbo conceded, frowning slightly. "Bombur, is this 
to be a big feast?"

"Oh, yes! A wondrous feats! With lots of singing and music and dancing! And 
food!" He sighed, clasping his hands together in delight. "Oh, I am so excited! 
The Elves have promised me that I may sample everything!"

Bilbo was only half listening to the raptures of the Dwarf. He knew that if it 
were a large feast then there would be plenty of empty barrels to float down the 
river; plenty of barrels for the Dwarves to ride all the way to Lake Town in. He 
felt a swell of excitement himself.

"I am very happy for you, Bombur. I am sure the King will be quite thrilled with 
whatever it is you will prepare for him."

"Oh, yes! I am quite adept in the kitchen, you know. You must excuse me, Bilbo. 
I must decide what to fix. Oh! Please tell the others about it. I am sure they 
will feel honored that I was chosen to do this!"

Being dismissed Bilbo moved on to speak with each of the Dwarves, bearing 
messages from one to the other.

Balin was pleased to hear of their imminent release. He spoke at some length on 
what he would do once they had rid themselves of the Dragon.

".and then I should like to reclaim Khazad-dum," he finished with a wistful 
sigh. Ever his thoughts seemed to turn to the other lost kingdom.

:I only hope I won't have to help you reclaim that one!: Bilbo thought wryly.

Just as he was turning to leave the white bearded Dwarf called softly to him.

"Are you quite sure, Bilbo, that the fair maiden is really the King's son?"

Bilbo grimaced at the slight quaver in the other's voice. Really! Perhaps their 
privations in the forest had affected their eyesight.

"I am quite certain, Balin. I am so sorry, but he is the King's son."

Balin sighed deeply and shuffled away from the door.

"That is really too bad. He is quite pretty though, isn't he?"

Bilbo shook his head in amusement. These Dwarves were really rather funny at 
times.

"Yes, Balin. I suppose he is." Shaking his head in dismayed amusement Bilbo 
moved off down the corridor and back to his storeroom to consider his plan more 
carefully.



Gwibess studied her three masters, trying to keep the rather bored expression 
from her face. Since they had run away three days earlier they had camped out 
under the stars enjoying the peace and quiet of the forest. Camping was fine, 
she had decided, if one didn't have to do it for more than a few hours at a 
time. There were no sparkly things to amuse here out here at all! She had not 
been very pleased to flee the palace at such great speed either, with Thrumb 
Dumb shrieking after them and the other Elves looking at them with strange 
expressions on their faces. She had become rather fond of her quiet life as a 
tame spider and even this small departure from it was wearying.

"Masters? When are we going home?"

But the three Masters were engrossed in their own worries. Tavor was looking 
rather dejected and throwing bits of grass and dead leaves into their small 
fire; Brethil for once, was quiet, staring into the woods beyond them; Legolas 
was scowling at nothing. Things had not worked out well. They had brought no 
food with them, or water. And only Brethil had a bow. The three sighed 
simultaneously.

"Can we go home yet?" Brethil asked. "I really don't want to stay out here 
anymore." He glanced at their spider. "Gwibess wants to go as well." He smiled 
over at her and she moved to stand beside him gratefully.

Tavor looked hopefully to Legolas. He didn't want to be the first to broach the 
subject, but since Brethil had he was ready to agree.

Legolas gazed at his two friends and the spider, amazed at the pitiful looks on 
their faces. He sighed again, digging in the ground before him with a stick.

"Yes. We will go home. But first," he interrupted their cries of happiness. "We 
have to go and get the jewels the other spiders took. Perhaps that will lessen 
the punishment we are going to get."

Tavor grimaced. Not again. How many times could they be punished in such a short 
amount of time? In one lifetime?

"Your father must surely be out of punishments by now." He muttered, rising 
gracefully to his feet. "Even he cannot possibly think of any more ways to 
humiliate us."

"Oh, I am sure he could, Tavor." Brethil began, standing also and stretching 
then scratching Gwibess on the head. He drew a breath and opened his mouth.

"Shut up, Brethil." Legolas and Tavor moaned.

"Come on. We need to find the spiders. Do you have any idea where they are?" 
Legolas asked, looking at the others.

Gwibess raised one spindly leg.

"I do, Master." She said reluctantly.

"Really? Where are they?"

"They are near the Magic Water. Where your boat floated away and I fell in."

"Good! That is not too far." Legolas stopped and looked at her. "You remember 
that?" His eyes slide to his friends. He wasn't certain what would happen when 
the effects of Morn Nen wore off.

Tavor frowned, brows knit.

"How can she remember? The effects can't wear off."

"Yes, they do eventually." Legolas stared at the spider. She looked abashed and 
regretful about having spoken out. She feared they would send her away now.

"They do not! Brethil pushed me in and I still don't remember it."

Legolas smiled for the first time in days. Brethil giggled, covering his mouth 
with his hand.

"What are you two laughing at?"

The two grinned at one another. Having decided that the little trick had served 
several purposes they decided the game was up.

"You never fell in. We just made that up. We had that game planned for some 
time. When Brethil called me a Prince of Singing Orcs I decided to start it. He 
took the blame and the fun began!" Legolas said, then he began to laugh.

"What?! What?!!" Tavor spluttered glaring at them. "You made it up! Why I ought 
to -!" He leapt at Brethil who was the slower of the two, but Gwibess blocked 
his way and Brethil managed to escape into the trees, trailing after Legolas. 
Tavor growled at Gwibess. "Get out of my way, Gwibess!"

"May I go home now, Master Ta Worm?" She asked, ready to pin him to the ground 
if he refused her. Though she feared that he would then tell her not to return 
home. Ever. That she could not bear.

"Yes. Go home. Just.just stay out of trouble!" He danced around the spider and 
sprinted into the trees.

Gwibess gleefully headed in the opposite direction, glad to be on her way back 
to her sparkling nest at last. She hissed and creaked merrily as she trotted 
along, then took to the trees. She failed to see the small group of Orcs that 
were hunting for a place to rest for the day as the dawn approached.

"Are you sure this is where she is?" One asked, looking about him. "It was quite 
a while ago when she was heard."

"It was here somewhere. I thought I heard voices earlier, but no one was 
singing."

"Won't it be wonderful when we find her," a third one sighed happily.

"Yes," the fourth and fifth agreed. "We have been hunting her for quite some 
time now."

"She has the most beautiful voice. She really scared those stupid Dwarves away! 
Fools! How could they not like her singing? Though they should throw themselves 
at her feet and thank her for saving their miserable lives. To think we had 
tracked them all the way from the Misty Mountains to here only to let them go." 
The Orc smiled recalling the eerie voice they had heard singing in the woods. "I 
will throw myself at her feet when we find her."

"I wonder what she looks like?" The sixth and final one said, a silly grin on 
its ugly face.

"Let's go," the leader called "Hopefully this night we will find our Singing Orc 
Princess!"



Well, I guess you know what is coming!

Plug for my beta reader on "Bells of Silver"! Please go read a couple very 
humorous little chapters by alliwantisanelfforchristmas entitled "Elvish 
Lessons". It will tickle you mightily as it did me! 'Tis great fun! Plus you owe 
it to her for getting this fic started again!

Plug for my favorite fic, too! The last few chapters have really wowed me, 
though the entire story is glorious! Katharine the Great's "The Weeping Wraith" 
is well worth the time it takes to read it all. I have read it twice at present! 
So please go and read this wondrous tale as well!


Chapter 25 - Finding the Singing Orc Princess



Thranduil of Mirkwood was rather annoyed. He had been troubled by Dwarves, 
troubled by his sons, troubled by spiders, troubled by his Master Archer, and 
the list seemed to go on and on. Just a couple days before he had witnessed his 
youngest son squeeze a spider through the bedroom window and dive after it, 
disappearing into the woods. He shook his head.

"This madness has to stop," he hissed pacing back and forth in the Hall.

Tanglinna stood in a far corner, arms folded over his chest, a carefully blank 
expression on his face. The rest of the Hall was conspicuously empty.

"This madness has to stop," the Elf king repeated. "I will not tolerate any more 
spiders, pipeweed, Dwarves, sparkly pink.or green.or.whatever in my Hall again! 
This has to stop, Tanglinna!"

The Master Archer raised one silver brow.

"Yes, your Majesty," he said softly, wondering if he should have kept quiet when 
Thranduil suddenly spun toward him, piercing him with the intensity of his blue 
gaze.

"Get the horses. You and I are going after them. Now. Meet me at the front of 
the palace."

Tanglinna bowed and hurried out of the Hall and toward the stables. He knew they 
would ride until they found them.

At least I am not involved in this latest escapade of theirs, he thought grimly. 
I only hope that all this "madness" can stop! Ai, but I tire of it!

Thranduil went to change into his riding leathers, choosing ones of a rich green 
embroidered with golden leaves.

"Things will change," he told his scowling reflection. "Beginning today, nay, 
beginning now things will be different." He nodded in agreement with himself as 
he smoothed the butter soft leather over his chest. "There will be no more 
Dwarves traipsing in my forest; no more spider hairs on my clothing; no more 
missing jewels; no more pipeweed that makes people act.strange and chop off 
their hair; no more shrieking beasts! No more anything unless I order it!" He 
reached for a rather plain circlet, one not often worn, with good reason. He 
studied the beaten silver in his hands, his thumb running over the simple design 
of tightly interconnected swirls. There were no jewels or embellishments to 
adorn it. Legolas would most definitely recognize this headgear. "He will 
tremble with fear." Thranduil said with a wicked grin. His sons had learned to 
dread the appearance of Celeb Baudh - the Silver Judgment. It didn't appear on 
their father's head very often, but when it did they knew that they were doomed.

Thranduil wondered if he should have donned it earlier, before things had gotten 
so far out of hand. Well, he was wearing it now! Little Greenleaf would be 
trembling like a leaf in the wind when he caught sight of his father. He 
adjusted it, studying his reflection once more. He scowled even more fiercely at 
himself, baring his even white teeth. Yes, it would end today. He turned and 
strode out of the room.

Anyone who caught sight of the king that morning slipped away unnoticed, not 
wanting to draw his attention. His blue eyes flashed with dark purpose and Celeb 
Baudh glittered on his brow. Two words were whispered about the realm that day:

"Poor Legolas!"



"Do you believe this?" Tavor asked as they pulled open sticky little webs filled 
with glittering gems, necklaces, bracelets, rings, and other sparkly things. 
"Those silly spiders. Why do they have to put these webs on everything?"

The full moon shone above, setting the gems on fire with its light

"Because they are spiders," Brethil answered with a shrug, wiping his slender 
fingers on his leggings. "It is what they do, Tavor.

Tavor glared over at him.

"I know that, Brethil. It wasn't necessary for you to answer that. It was a 
rhetorical question. Why can't you just shut up! Honestly, at times I think you 
are incapable of it. All I did was comment on these.silly webs and you have to 
say, "Because they are spiders. It is what they do, Tavor." Really, sometimes I 
think you must talk in your sleep. Does your mouth ever rest? I don't think. "

Legolas and Brethil glanced at one another then smiled and looked at Tavor.

"Shut up, Tavor," they said loudly to get his attention as he rattled on and on 
about Brethil's rattling on and on.

He turned to stare at them.

"What? Why did you tell me to shut up? I wasn't doing anything."

"You sounded like me," Brethil giggled, covering his mouth with his hand. "Your 
mouth was running on and on and on."

Tavor glared at them, grey eyes full of indignation! Then he realized that he 
had indeed been babbling as badly as Brethil. He grimaced pulling a necklace 
from the webs.

"I have spent entirely too much time with the two of you. Look at me. Is this 
how I should be spending the day? I knew we should never have tried to tame a 
spider. How ridiculous -"

"You're doing it again, Tavor!" Brethil gasped, laughing.

"I am not. I am merely stating that the two of you have been a rather bad 
influence on me. I would never have gotten myself into this sort of mess with 
anyone else."

"Shut up, Tavor!" Legolas and Brethil laughed glancing from their friend to one 
another.

"At least he isn't talking about Mandos' Halls." Brethil commented as Tavor 
continued his list of all the things that they had gotten themselves into.

"Not yet, at any rate." Legolas had taken off his outer leather tunic and they 
were piling the gems and jewelry into to it so they might transport it back to 
Gladaran Thamas. "I suspect he will get to that in a moment."

Tavor continued to voice all his complaints about what had happened since they 
had seen the Dwarves stealing their boat here at Morn Nen. Legolas and Brethil 
ignored him letting him air his supposed grievances against them, his best 
friends since childhood.

"And you Legolas, singing to the Dwarves! Prince of the Singing Orcs! That is 
what they called you."

"We all sang, Tavor. They call us Singing Orcs. Don't you remember?" Legolas 
grinned. "Or perhaps you really did fall into Morn Nen!"

Tavor sneered at him, continuing to pluck things from the webs and toss them 
into the tunic on the ground.

"Prince of the Singing Orcs!" Brethil added. "You called Legolas that! Not the 
Dwarves."

"I don't think we sounded like Orcs. Did you, Brethil?" Legolas asked with a 
grin wiping his sticky fingers on his slightly iridescent pale blue inner tunic.

"No. I thought we sounded very nice myself. What do Dwarves know," he added with 
a sly grin.

Legolas narrowed his eyes in warning and Brethil laughed merrily. He stretched, 
throwing the last jewel onto the pile.

"May we go home now?" Tavor asked staring at his fingers in disgust. "I should 
have gone with Gwibess and left the two of you to contend with this."

"Then you would have faced the King's wrath alone." Brethil said with a sigh.

"Oh, no. We aren't going to think of that now. By the time we get back home we 
will have come up with some way to lessen our punishment.whatever it may be." 
Legolas frowned slightly and then shook his head. Suddenly he grinned at Brethil 
and Tavor and began to sing. It was the slightly eerie song the three had made 
up to sing to the Dwarves.

Brethil grinned widely and joined him, moving to drape his arm about the 
prince's shoulder. They sang louder and advanced on Tavor who was staring at 
them in dismayed disbelief. They grabbed him up in their embrace until he was 
laughing and singing with them. Everything would be fine now. The spiders were 
out of the palace; they had the jewels back. Yes, everything would be fine now.





"Do you hear that?"

"Yes! She is near!"

"She is not alone! There is more than one!"

"Hurry! Don't let them escape us!"

The six Orcs trotted through the trees. They had been searching the area around 
Morn Nen ever since they had first heard the enchanting voice that had 
frightened their prey away. They had never heard anything so beautiful, its 
siren call enflaming their hearts. Now their long vigilance would be rewarded.

Garluk the leader jogged ahead of the others, a grin on his ugly features. There 
would be a fight as well this night, to see who would claim the Singing Princess 
and her maidens as his own. His hand tightened on his weapon, his heart 
swelling. He had no doubt that he would be the victor.

The other five felt the same way, each confident that at the night's end they 
would be with the Princess and her companions. Each Orc smiled into the 
darkness, flexing muscles and stroking weapon handles as they ran on swift, 
eager feet toward the voices.



The Tricksy Trio had collapsed onto the ground in a fit of laughter near the 
jewel filled tunic. They lay on their backs staring up at the glory of 
Elbereth's stars enjoying this outing for the first time since they had fled the 
palace with such an ignominious exit.

"It has been a most strange time," Tavor commented with a laugh. "One I don't 
think I would care to repeat."

"Nay. But it will all be over soon," Legolas said, rolling onto his side and 
looking at the pile sparkling beside them. "This should help to lessen the blow 
my father will strike when we return." He reached over and plucked up a circlet 
studded with diamonds. He sat up and placed it on his head. Grinning he stood 
and bowed comically at them. "I guess I can see why the spiders had such fun 
with them."

Tavor and Brethil laughed and each chose gaudy collars of silver studded with 
fat pale gems and flashing emeralds.

"Let us adorn you, O Prince of Singing Orcs."

They stood adorning Legolas and themselves with bracelets and necklaces. As 
Tavor and Legolas laughingly compared their jewelry, Brethil bent to pick up a 
large ring set with a sapphire. As he straightened he noticed that they were not 
alone.

"Uh, Legolas. Tavor," he began quietly, his grey eyes widening. "Legolas! 
Tavor!"

"What is it, Brethil?" Tavor asked, turning from admiring his prince to look at 
the other Elf.

"Orcs."

"What? What are you talking about? We don't look like Orcs," Tavor joked. "We 
just sound like Orcs when we sing."

Legolas chuckled in delight and turned to where Brethil was staring with such a 
stricken look. His face fell in dismay.

"Tavor," he hissed. "There are Orcs!"

"Oh, no. Don't start that again. I am tired of being teased. Really, you two, I 
don't think it is -" He turned then and saw what the others did. "Ai, Valar. 
They are Orcs!"



Chapter 26 - Never Push a Princess

"I tried to tell you that, Tavor," Brethil murmured as they stared at the six 
Orcs, who were staring at them with puzzled looks on their ugly faces.

"Is that them?" One of the Orcs whispered to Garluk, scratching his head. "They 
don't look like Orcs."

"Are they those Elves, like we've heard about?" Another hissed in fear.

Garluk frowned. Neither he nor any of his companions had made forays into 
Mirkwood before and had never seen an Elf in person. They had heard many tales 
with varied descriptions of them, none of which agreed except on the ferocity of 
those elusive beings.

"They are rather strange looking," one said, taking in the long pale hair, fair 
faces, the slight glow that surrounded them in an ethereal haze.

Garluk studied them closely. He wasn't certain what to do. Then he noticed the 
sparkling gems that adorned them and the iridescent clothing that one wore. 
Perhaps this is what female Singing Orcs looked like. They looked nothing like 
the few females he had encountered in his life, but none of them were of the 
Singing variety. It was a rare Orc that could sing. He had heard rumors of a 
male singing Orc, but he wasn't certain if he believed that tale. Singing male 
Orcs would be a problem. Garluk frowned, studying the three beings in front of 
him.

"Are you the Singing Orc Princess?" He asked Legolas in Common Speech, ready to 
bow at her feet or hack off its head, depending on the answer.

"What did he say?" Tavor asked incredulously.

"He asked if Legolas is a Singing Orc Princess." Brethil said, wishing that his 
bow wasn't propped against a fallen tree several feet away, behind the Orcs. As 
was his quiver of arrows. "Are your ears bothering you today, Tavor? You don't 
seem to hear anything that is being said."

"Shut up, Brethil! Singing Orc Princess?" Tavor stared at the Orc. "Singing Orc 
Princess??"

Garluk didn't understand any of their words, but the voices were pleasant, 
though not quite what he had expected. He frowned. Perhaps he was mistaken. But 
then the one in the middle, with many jewels sparkling in the moonlight, looked 
him in the eyes. Who but a princess would be so adorned? The Orc leader felt his 
face flush with excitement as the blue eyes flashed fiercely.

"What did you say to me?" Legolas asked in a deadly quiet voice, his face 
reddening, hands clenching into fists.

Tavor and Brethil glanced at one another. They recognized the tone, only it was 
usually issuing from the mouth of the King. They took a step back, distancing 
themselves from him and from the Orcs they suddenly felt sorry for.

"Poor things." Brethil whispered, shaking his head. "Why did they have to 
mention the word "princess"?"

"Just be ready, Brethil. Or he'll take them all by himself." Tavor hissed.

"Are you the Singing Orc Princess that we heard earlier?" Garluk repeated, 
wishing he knew what an Orc Princess was supposed to look like.

"I am NOT an ORC!! I am NOT a PRINCESS!! Why does everyone keep saying that??!!" 
Legolas snarled. "I am starting to get very annoyed by it!!"

The Orcs edged closer, amazed and bewitched by the narrowed blue eyes, red face 
framed by moonlit hair, crowned with dazzling jewels, white teeth bared in a 
feral snarl.

"It is," one of them moaned in ecstasy. "It is the Princess!"

"I - AM - NOT - A - PRINCESS!!!"

"Oh! Listen to her shriek! It is her voice! I recognize it! I - OOF!"

The Orc hit the ground as Legolas sprang onto it.

"I - AM - NOT - A - PRINCESS!!" He shrieked again, banging the beast's head onto 
the ground to punctuate each word.

The other Orcs stared down in shock.

"She is attacking him! She is very strong. She -!"

That Orc found himself sprawled on the ground on his face, one arm twisted 
behind it, Legolas' knee jammed into its back.

"I am not a girl!!" He spat, ruthlessly yanking on its arm until it yelped in 
pain. "Say it! "You are not a girl!!"!"

"You are not a girl! You are not a girl!" The Orc cried out. "You are not a 
girl!" He felt as he never had before. He was in ecstasy! He would die at the 
hands of the Singing Orc Princess!

"Come on, Brethil. Choose one, or there won't be any left." Tavor hissed, 
springing onto one of the remaining Orcs with a loud cry. Brethil grinned and 
leapt at another one, bearing it to the ground beneath him.

Garluk watched as the Elves managed to take out his burly companions one by one 
until he and one other were the only one standing. The other Orc was jumping up 
and down with excitement and clapping its clawed hands together. But then the 
"princess" growled and jumped at him. Soon he was lying on the ground moaning.

Legolas stood panting slightly, the snarl still on his lips as he turned to 
Garluk. Brethil and Tavor moved to stand beside him.

"Don't EVER call me "princess" again!" He told Garluk.

The Orc smiled, eyeing the "princess" with great admiration and appreciation. 
"She" was very strong, but he didn't doubt he could take "her". He grinned 
throwing aside his weapon and flexing his large muscles. He was preparing to 
launch himself at Legolas when a voice shrieked:

"WHAT IS GOING ON NOW??!!"



Garluk was not a stupid Orc, or a foolish one. He knew the others were. He did 
not fear the strong "princess", but his admiration had gone up considerably when 
she had taken out his companions so easily. When the tall one on a horse came 
riding in, eyes flashing like blue fire, accompanied by a silver haired 
attendant with a bow, Garluk had no doubt that he could take them on as well. 
But when he saw the "princess" look up, her glorious eyes resting on the new 
comer and giving a choking cry and stagger backwards in horror, Garluk began to 
wonder. He thought he heard her whisper something that sounded like kelb bawd, 
but he didn't know what that meant. It might be the name of the golden haired 
rider, but perhaps not.

The other two "maidens" had started as well and moved to stand behind their 
"princess", eyes filled with fear. It was then that Garluk truly began to wonder 
just what he had gotten himself into. His fellows were climbing to their feet, 
moaning and complaining.

"What is this?!" Thranduil repeated, taking in the Orcs and the Tricksy Trio. 
"Legolas, what have I told you about playing with my jewels?!"

Legolas started and stared down at himself, suddenly recalling that he had been 
playing with his father's jewels. He raised a stricken face to this father then 
began to remove all the baubles, throwing them hastily onto those piled on his 
tunic.

"I - I - I -" he spluttered, his eyes returning again and again to Celeb Baudh . 
"Ai, Valar! I am going to die!"

Brethil and Tavor began to thrust their own ornaments away as though they were 
poisonous snakes twining about their wrists and necks. Tavor's mind was in a 
whirl as he tried to contemplate how they would manage to survive this encounter 
with their King. His lips moved, but no sound emerged.

Brethil bit at his lips to still them, hoping that if he stood behind Legolas 
and Tavor perhaps he would remain unseen and therefore he wouldn't be questioned 
about what had happened.

I won't tell him anything, this time, he told himself. Not about spiders, or 
Orcs, or his jewels. Or about the water from Morn Nen that we were taking back 
with us because then he will want to know why and I can't tell him THAT! His 
grey eyes moved to the dark rush of water that was not very far from where they 
stood. I will say nothing. Nothing at all. I can do that! Just keep your mouth 
shut, Brethil!

Thranduil's eyes moved from his son to the Orcs. He felt a look of anger and 
disgust cross his face.

"You are to leave Mirkwood now! If ever I see you - or smell - you here again 
under my trees I will have you killed before you can draw a breath to ask my 
pardon! Leave now or Tanglinna will chase you down and you will fall this day. I 
am being merciful to you now, as I don't want my wood polluted by your foul 
blood! LEAVE!"

Garluk would have challenged the rider on any other day, but the look on the 
"princess'" face told him of the futility of the action. If "she" had shown no 
fear when he and the other Orcs had arrived to confront them, and leapt forward 
to attack them without a second's hesitation, was cowering in fear before the 
rider in dark green then perhaps it would be best to heed the words spoken. He 
glanced once more at the "princess", regret and admiration filling him.

"Get moving!" He barked at the others. "Now!"

The battered Orcs from the Misty Mountains moved away, throwing sorrowful 
glances at their "princess". They would return home defeated, but with many 
wondrous tales to tell. After all they had seen the Singing Orc Princess and her 
maidens. Not to mention the Queen of the Singing Orcs.

Thranduil watched them go, and motioned for Tanglinna to follow them to make 
certain they did leave Mirkwood. The Master Archer spared a glance for the three 
younger Elves and shook his head in pity. Then he turned his mount after the 
Orcs.

Thranduil dismounted and advanced slowly on his youngest son. Legolas gulped and 
backed slowly away, Tavor and Brethil hastily moving away from them both. They 
needn't have worried, as Thranduil only had eyes for his son at the present 
moment.

"Little Greenleaf," he began in a low voice, the moonlight reflecting off Celeb 
Baudh. "You are in a lot of trouble."

Legolas felt laughter bubble up in his throat. A lot of trouble? That was such 
an understatement.

"I am not in a lot of trouble," he murmured, glancing at Tavor and Brethil. "I 
am dead. I just don't realize it yet. This is my punishment," he told them in a 
conversational tone. "To live this over and over and always be in trouble, with 
my father advancing toward me to slay me with his lips; the Silver Judgment on 
his brow.""

Tavor and Brethil looked at one another, concern filling their eyes.

"He sounded almost like you there for a moment, Tavor." Brethil murmured. "Only 
he didn't mention Mandos Halls."

Tavor turned to stare at him in disbelief.

"He should throw himself in, as we had told him." Brethil continued in a 
whisper. "He can't get in trouble for what he can't remember doing. Right? But 
then we would have to jump in as well, or we will be in trouble because we could 
remember. What would be best is if the King fell in and didn't remember, then -"

"Shut up, Brethil!" Tavor hissed through clenched teeth.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes and glared at the two, effectively silencing them. 
Then he continued to walk toward his son who could hear the rushing water behind 
him.

"Don't even think about it, Little Greenleaf. You have had entirely too much fun 
and mischief of late and it must stop. Now."

Legolas could feel the edge of the bank at his heels and he had to halt his 
steps or he would fall in. Did he really want to forget everything? It sounded 
like such a simple solution. But when would he get his memory back? He gazed 
over his shoulder. Would his father not punish him because he threw himself into 
Morn Nen? Or would he merely wait for his memory to return? Or would he not wait 
at all and punish him anyway? He looked back at his father and the Silver 
Judgment.

He moaned and turned deciding to throw himself in. Thranduil shot toward him, 
followed closely by Tavor and Brethil.

"You will not escape me that easily, Little Greenleaf!" The King exclaimed 
grabbing for his son and -





Chapter 27 - Here We Go Again!



"This is just wonderful. Absolutely wonderful."

Tanglinna, the Master Archer of Mirkwood stared down at the two sodden bodies at 
his feet. They had pulled them from Morn Nen and they were sleeping quite 
peacefully, eyes dreamy, pleasant smiles on their lips. He shook his head and 
frowned.

"This is just wonderful," he repeated.

Tavor and Brethil looked warily from him to stare at one another. Then they 
looked down at the King and his son.

"You shouldn't have told him to jump in, Tavor," Brethil began, shaking his head 
in imitation of the Master Archer. "Nothing good will come of it."

Tavor gaped at him, brows knit, an incredulous look on his face.

"Nothing good will come of it? Nothing good will come of it! I did NOT tell -"

"Don't even start!" Tanglinna hissed, cutting them off effectively. "I have 
enough to worry about without the two of you acting like idiots! Pick him up. I 
will carry the King."

"I wonder what they will remember when they wake up," Brethil whispered as he 
helped Tavor drape Legolas over the horse's back.

"I wouldn't know," Tavor said with a quick glare. "I have never fallen in."

Brethil merely smiled knowingly, but said nothing.

"If we are lucky they will have forgotten about the Dwarves and everything that 
has happened since then." Tavor continued as he watched Tanglinna leap agilely 
onto the other horse behind Thranduil's body. "We can only hope so."

"But won't he notice that there are Dwarves in his dungeons?" Brethil asked as 
he seated himself on the horse and helped put Legolas into a sitting position in 
front of him, the blonde head nestled on his shoulder. "Ugh! He is very wet!"

Tavor snorted, mounting behind him. The horse whickered as if to say, "Three of 
you is asking a bit much". They followed after Tanglinna slowly.

Brethil gently stroked Legolas' cheek, the Elf prince smiling and murmuring 
something.

"Poor Legolas. What will we tell him about this?" His slim fingers toyed with 
the short hair where the left Warrior braid had hung.

"We will worry about that when the time comes."

"He will notice it again, you know. He was so upset the last time, that I am not 
sure what he will do this time! Then we will have to tell him about the Dwarves 
again, and the singing, the Bubbles, the sparkly green, and the -"

"Shut up, Brethil!!"

He turned to stare at the two who had yelled at him.

"What? I was merely saying that -"

"Keep your mouth shut, young Brethil," Tanglinna said sharply. "It is bad enough 
that you will tell Legolas everything you know, but you must avoid the King at 
all costs. If you must see him bring Tavor with you - No, don't." He shot a 
glance at Tavor appraising him critically. "You, too, seem to have a problem 
controlling your tongue of late. At least the prince will not recall anything to 
say." He shook his silver head, adjusting the King's body against his own. "We 
will need to put this away," he continued indicating Celeb Baudh.

"Perhaps we should throw it into Morn Nen," Brethil said with a grin. "Legolas 
would be eternally grateful if we did. It was rather terrifying to see the King 
riding toward us, his eyes flashing fiercely, Celeb Baudh glittering like cold 
fire. Ai! It was frightening!"

"I think those Orcs thought so as well," Tavor added, with a smile. "Did you see 
the look on the big one's face? I couldn't tell if he was afraid of him or 
admiring him."

"The one that Legolas was bashing looked absolutely enraptured! Didn't you think 
so, Tanglinna? Tanglinna?" Brethil scowled. "Where is he?"

Behind them they heard a small splash and then Tanglinna rejoined them. The 
King's fair brow was bereft of its ornamentation. The Archer raised one brow and 
moved ahead of them.

"This is going to be rather interesting," Brethil said quietly with a smile.





A few days later Legolas' eyes focused and he stared at the ceiling. He felt 
fine and he grinned, suddenly getting out of the bed.

"He's awake!" Brethil exclaimed, scrambling from the chair he had been curled 
in.

Tavor drew a deep, steadying breath and pushed off the wall where he had been 
leaning.

"Are you ready?" Legolas asked, hurried splashing water on his face.

"For - what?" Tavor asked, wondering what Legolas would remember. He glanced 
over at Brethil, who shrugged, biting at his lips.

"Don't you remember? We are going to push Gwibess into Morn Nen to try and tame 
her. Where is she?"

The two friends exchanged glances as they watched the prince dry his face.

"Well, Legolas, you see -" Brethil began.

"No, Brethil!" Tavor interjected. "I will tell him!"

"You will? Very well. I haven't been able to make up anything to tell him yet 
anyhow. I am no good at subterfuge."

Legolas turned to him, drying his face.

"What is going on?" He asked suspiciously. "Have you lost the spider?"

"No," Tavor began slowly. He wasn't very good at subterfuge either, much to his 
dismay. "We haven't lost Gwibess. Er, have we?" He looked at Brethil who was 
staring pointed at Legolas as if he was trying to think of something he had 
forgotten. "Or perhaps we have," Tavor continued, his face brightening. "Yes - 
yes! We lost, Gwibess! That is why we can't take her to Morn Nen today." He 
smiled, quite pleased with himself. Maybe he was good at subterfuge. "Exactly. 
That is it!" He gazed triumphantly at Brethil, expecting to see a gleam of 
appreciation that told of Tavor's genius, but Brethil's brows were knot and he 
looked troubled, his grey eyes fixed on the prince.

Legolas scowled fiercely at them both.

"What is going on?!" He demanded.

"Nothing is going on. Nothing at all. Why do you ask?" Tavor sputtered, feeling 
panic well within him.

Brethil shook his head slightly.

"I will think of it later," he concluded quietly before turning to Legolas. "You 
must be very hungry."

Thranduil's son frowned. He was feeling a bit hollow.

"After all," Brethil continued. "You haven't eaten for days."

"Days?" Mirkwood's prince gazed at him in bewilderment. "What are you talking 
about, Brethil?"

"He didn't mean days!" Tavor choked. "He meant HOURS! Didn't you, Brethil?" He 
glared pointedly at his friend. "HOURS not DAYS!"

"What? Oh! Yes! Days I meant DAYS! No? Oh! Hours! Yes, HOURS! I meant HOURS! I 
really did, Legolas. Hours! That is what I meant!" Brethil smiled in relief over 
at Tavor to reassure him that the slip surely went unnoticed, but for some 
reason Tavor looked rather stricken.

Legolas regarded his best friends with suspicion.

"What is going on?" He asked, wondering if he truly wanted to know.

"Nothing," Tavor said, cutting Brethil off even as he drew a breath to begin. 
"Nothing. We will go find Gwibess after you eat something."

Mirkwood's youngest prince raised one brow, but decided not to pursue the 
matter.

"Very well. I hope we can find her again. She seemed nice for a spider."

"Here!" Tavor thrust clothing into his arms. "Get dressed, you need to be in the 
sun and the wind today."

Legolas looked at his friend with concern. He looked rather panicked.

"Breathe in, breathe out, Tavor. You look ready to faint. - What have we done 
now? We haven't done anything, have we?" He searched his memory, but could think 
of nothing. He slipped out of his nightshirt and into his leggings and tunic.

"I am not going to faint!" Tavor protested, though he doubted the veracity of 
that statement. His heart was pounding unmercifully in his chest. ~This might 
just kill me~ he thought desperately. ~I need to calm down! If I don't then who 
will shut Brethil up? ~ He drew several deep breaths and closed his eyes, 
willing the anxiety to dissipate.

"That was it!" Brethil exclaimed suddenly, his grey eyes bright. "Keep him away 
from the mirror!"

Legolas turned toward him. Tavor's eyes widened and he wondered which desire was 
greater: to strangle Brethil with his own hair or to go instantly to Mandos 
Halls to escape this.

"Why do you need to keep me away from the mirror? What is going on?!" Legolas, 
of course, turned to move back toward the mirror.

"Masters?"

They all turned toward the creaky voice. Tavor gasped and clutched his heart.

Gwibess' head appeared at the window, one long leg brushing aside the hanging.

"Oh, no!" Tavor moaned. "Not now! Not now!"

"You are awake, Master Let Go Lass! Oh! I was so worried!"

Legolas stared at the spider in wonder and amazement.

"What did she say?"

"She said, 'You are awake, Master Let Go Lass. Oh! I was so worried!'."

"Brethil!" Tavor wheezed.

"What? I was just answering his question. It would be impolite to ignore him 
after all he has been through."

Legolas felt his knees quake and he staggered toward the chair. He was about to 
collapse into it, his head feeling very funny and light, when a voice yelped,

"No, Prince Legolas! Don't sit on me!"

The prince gasped and staggered away from the chair, his blue eyes wide.

"Who said that?!"

Tavor stilled suddenly, thinking he had heard the sweet, quiet strain of music 
that must fill the Halls of Mandos.

"Masters?" Gwibess watched them with worry in her great eyes.

"Who did say that?" Brethil asked. "Was it the funny furry-footed Dwarf?" He 
grinned. "Don't worry Let Go Lass - uh, Legolas. He is not Silivren Hithlain 
Man. He has told me so himself. Bilbo and I have had some interesting 
conversations the last few days. He was worried about you, too! He has your 
Bubble Pipe though, if you need it."

"No, Brethil. No, Brethil. No, Brethil." Tavor moaned again and again. For some 
odd reason no other words would form.

"Who is Bilbo?" Legolas gasped, staring at the empty chair.

"Oh, dear," the disembodied voice said. "It is just like Bombur. Poor Legolas. 
You don't remember a thing, do you?"

"What?" Legolas gasped. "What?"

"No, Bilbo. No, Bilbo. No, Bilbo." Tavor wondered what had happened to him. Why 
couldn't he speak?

"Masters?" Gwibess felt so worried over them, that she had managed to wedge her 
body in the window once more and was flailing wildly trying to get free.

Suddenly Bilbo pulled off his Ring and appeared right in front of Legolas who 
gasped and staggered backwards, landing on his rump by the bed.

"It is alright, PrinceLegolas. Really. We do know one another, you just don't 
remember. I guess that means you have forgotten the pipeweed as well. But that 
is a good thing. Really! Poor Gloin. You have forgotten him too. That will break 
his heart! But at least he has a remembrance of you." Bilbo shook his head sadly 
at the distressed look on his friend's face. "I am sorry that all this has 
happened. It will all be over soon. I promise."

Just then the door opened and Tanglinna stuck his head in.

"The King is awake," he stated his eyes worried. Then he saw Legolas cowering by 
his bed, his eyes filled with dismay. The Master Archer noted Tavor's muttering, 
Brethil's smile, the strange furry-footed Dwarf, and the spider stuck in the 
window. "Great Valar!" He muttered. "Here we go again!"




Chapter 28 - What is Missing?

King Thranduil of Mirkwood paced his chamber, his mind happily going over the 
details of the Autumn Feast. For some reason he felt that he should be in a very 
bad mood, but he wasn't. He had already discussed food and wine with the chefs 
(after devouring some - he had been rather hungry for some reason), and 
decorations and clothing. Everyone was so eager to please that it was rather 
gratifying. Only one thing troubled him. It seemed that Legolas' green outfit 
was missing. Ceredirhammad had already agreed to make another one, mentioning 
something about webs and hair that probably wouldn't come off anyway. This had 
confused the king, and he would have to speak with his son about it. Something 
was going on. The prince had never liked dressing in fancy clothing and had 
probably hidden it away somewhere that he shouldn't have. He chuckled slightly, 
nearly forgetting the seamstress strange words. None of his sons liked the 
shining clothes they had to wear on occasions like these feasts, or the 
beautiful, cunningly woven wreaths of bright flowers. But they did look nice 
when all was said and done.

There was a knock at the door and Thranduil turned to see Tanglinna peering 
around it cautiously.

"Ah! There you are!" The king exclaimed. "Is Legolas with you?"

"Yes, your Majesty. He is."

The Master Archer pulled the rather reluctant younger Elf into the room with a 
stern glance and pushed him toward his father.

"Legolas, what have you done now?" Thranduil asked, crossing his arms over his 
chest.

If the prince hadn't been so worried he might have noticed the amused twinkle in 
his father's eyes. But he swallowed nervously. All the things that Tavor, 
Brethil, Tanglinna, Bilbo, and yes, even Gwibess had told him - they had finally 
managed to squeeze her in through the window - swirled in his head, which 
already felt very odd. Unfortunately they had told him all the things that he 
should NOT tell the king.

"Why are you telling me this?" He had asked, a panicked note in his voice. "If 
you don't want me to tell him, then why tell ME?"

They had tried to reassure him that all would be well, and Tanglinna had told 
Brethil to shut up several times, but Legolas knew it wouldn't be well. He was 
overloaded with information that he did not want, and he couldn't remember on 
his own. Thus it was that he stared up at his father, with a helpless, slightly 
dazed look on his face.

"What have I been up to?" He asked, blinking several times. What hadn't he done 
now? From what they had told him, there wasn't much he hadn't done lately. He 
glanced nervously at Tanglinna hoping the Master Archer would rescue him, but 
Tanglinna looked pointedly away from him, effectively telling him he was on his 
own.

"I - I - nothing. Why?"

"It seems that something is missing." Thranduil said, lifting one brow.

"Something is missing?" The prince looked again at the archer who seemed 
engrossed with the ceiling. Legolas blinked again and frowned. Surely it was 
something they had told him about. He searched his mind and found there were 
several things that could be considered missing. The last one mentioned by 
Brethil came to mind. He cleared his throat, which sent sudden shudders down 
Tanglinna's spine. "Do you mean.Celeb Baudh?"

"No!" Tanglinna hissed, glaring at him. Then he felt the king's gaze on him and 
turned to see Thranduil's eyes fixed on him. He smiled weakly and shrugged, 
looking up at the ceiling once again and began to offer supplications to 
Elbereth. Why had he thrown that circlet into Morn Nen in the first place? How 
could he possibly have thought it was a good idea? Ai, sweet Elbereth, none of 
them was going to survive this!

"Celeb Baudh?" Thranduil repeated, his blue gaze moving to Legolas. "What do you 
mean?"

Legolas' gaze shifted from one to the other. That had obviously not been the one 
to mention.

"Nothing - Um - Then you mean -" he glanced at Tanglinna once more.

"Stop that!" Thranduil barked, feeling the bad mood coming on him full force. 
"Answer my question and look at ME when you do it!"

"Um - then you mean -" He turned back to his father, reaching back to one of the 
first things they had told him. "The boat?"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed.

"What boat?"

"The boat on Morn Nen that Tavor, Brethil, and I use sometimes." Suddenly he 
gasped. "I didn't mean to say Morn Nen!" He choked, his eyes widening. "Forget I 
said Morn Nen! No! No! I don't mean, "forget", I mean -"

"Shut up, Prince Legolas!" Tanglinna hissed, his hands clenching on his tunic.

"What is going on?" The king demanded. His head felt very, very strange suddenly 
and he didn't like it. No, he didn't like it at all.

Legolas frowned again, feeling panic rising in him. What was wrong with him? Why 
couldn't he think of what his father meant and simply tell him what he wanted to 
hear?

"I - I meant the spiders? They are missing? Right? The ones that -er - painted 
your face? Right?" He glanced at Tanglinna to verify this statement, but the 
archer was muttering something under his breath. "Or was it that they stole the 
jewels and - and - your - robes?" He finished, his voice dying away to a 
whisper. "No," he continued heedlessly as his father's eyes widened, his face 
suffused with color. "I can see that is not it. Then you mean -"

"WHAT IS GOING ON??!!"

"I - I - I don't know! Oh, Adar I am so sorry, but I "don't" know what is going 
on!" Legolas buried his head in his hands, fingers digging into his hair.

Thranduil, placed his hands on his temples, willing himself to calmness. 
Something very strange was going on of that he was certain. He took a deep 
breath.

"I simply meant where is the green outfit?" He said, trying to be patient.

"Green outfit?" Legolas drew a shaky breath and looked up. Green outfit. He 
could do this. He really could.

"The green outfit?" He nodded. They had mentioned a green outfit. "The sparkly 
green one?" He smiled, feeling that he had finally gotten the answer right.

"It wasn't sparkly green." Thranduil said, his eyes going to the archer, and 
Tanglinna knew his time on Arda was running short. "It was a shimmery green, not 
sparkly."

"The green outfit," Legolas murmured. "But "not" the sparkly green one. Just the 
shimmery green one. Yes -well-" Something pricked in his mind, something one of 
them had said not to mention. "The one - the one I was wearing when - " He shook 
his head, everything he had been told in such a rush earlier had jumbled all 
together.

"You haven't worn it yet, little Greenleaf," Thranduil said with a frown. "Or 
have you?"

Tanglinna swallowed nervously, glancing from the king to his son.

~This cannot be happening! This cannot be happening. Just when I thought 
everything would be better, it is getting worse!~

Legolas' eyes shot to him, full of trepidation.

"Did I wear it?" He asked the archer. "Or didn't I?"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. Something was going on. He knew it. He folded his 
arms about his chest and cocked his head on one side, his nostrils flared as he 
drew a deep breath.

"You were going to say what, Tanglinna?" He growled.

~Why did I have to be the one to escort him here? Why didn't I just send someone 
else - anyone else! ~ He thought frantically. He could picture himself polishing 
jewels for the next one thousand years in the kings gem room. It was not a 
pleasant thought. He frowned. He wished he "were" in the gem room polishing 
jewels right now actually!

"I was not going to say anything, your Majesty. Nothing at all."

~Father isn't supposed to remember either! ~ Legolas told himself, trying to 
find any reassurance that he could. ~Why does he remember the green outfit - the 
"shimmery" green outfit if I cannot? If I can just keep from saying anything 
that I don't remember - that I am not supposed to say - ~ He cut the thought off 
as it didn't sound right and it made his head feel rather strange and light. He 
swallowed and glanced at Tanglinna, whose face was inscrutable as always. He had 
already said too many things that he didn't remember and was not supposed to 
say.

Thranduil looked down at him, a look of great annoyance on his face.

"Where is your green outfit?" He repeated, trying to calm himself. He would not 
allow them to upset him any more. He was in control. He was the king!

"Green outfit." Legolas gaze swept to Tanglinna, he felt exhausted.

"The one for the Autumn Feast, my prince. The shimmery one," the archer prompted 
hastily, not looking at the king. No, not looking at the king at all.

Legolas blinked. Why couldn't he remember the shimmery green outfit if his 
father did? All he could recall was the sparkly green one they had told him 
about, but his father didn't mean that one.

"Oh? - Yes! I - Where is it?" He looked from Thranduil to Tanglinna once more. 
His brows knit in concentration. ~I can do this. I can do this!~

Thranduil glared at him and shook his head.

"What have you done now, little Greenleaf?" He asked again, repeating the 
original question that had started all this nonsense.

"Done? Nothing that I can remember." He answered honestly and then grinned. 
~What a clever answer~, he thought, perhaps he could get through this after all. 
Why hadn't he said this earlier and saved himself all this trouble? ~I can do 
this!~ He thought triumphantly. ~Yes, I can!~

Thranduil shook his head. It really didn't matter where the green outfit was. It 
really didn't matter and besides, he needed to lie down.

"A new one is being made for you. Just - just make certain that it doesn't 
disappear before tomorrow evening."

"Tomorrow evening?"

"The Feast, little Greenleaf."

"Oh, yes - the feast! Well - well - I will be there? Again?" He glanced 
Tanglinna, who shook his head and sighed.

~Again?~ Thranduil thought with a start. ~No - no. I will not even ask.~

"Is there anything further that you need from him, your Majesty?" The archer 
asked, wanting to hustle the prince from the room as quickly as possible.

Thranduil sighed.

"Yes - just - just go away both of you." His hand moved to his temples. "To 
think I felt so good earlier. I need some tea. Strong tea."

Tanglinna grabbed Legolas arm and was about to haul him from the room when 
Thranduil turned to them, his eyes weary.

"Legolas, please do not -" the words died in his throat. His mouth fell open in 
surprise and he scowled, leaning forward. "What happened to your hair?!"

"What?" Legolas frowned. "Nothing." His hands moved upward.

"Oh, no." Tanglinna breathed and wondered if they would notice if he ran from 
the room, ears covered, shrieking like a certain blonde beast that he knew only 
too well.

"Your left warrior braid! Where is it!" Thranduil moved across the space between 
them and cupped his son's chin in his hand, tilting his head to the right. A 
braid had been made somewhat further back on his son's head than normal, but the 
short tufts of hair stuck out at angles from his face. He frowned. "What 
happened?! It looks as if it has been cut off!"

Legolas fingers found their way to the spot and jerked the short hair. A look of 
horror spread over his face. Brethil's words flitted through his mind: "Keep him 
away from the mirror!" He gulped for breathe and pulled away from his father and 
ran to stare into the silvered glass.

"No.no." he murmured, looking in shock at what he saw. His left warrior braid 
was gone! "nonononononono......."

Tanglinna sighed.

"He has seen it," he muttered, reaching up to cover his ears as a shriek filled 
the air, shaking the palace to its very foundations. The young blonde beast was 
nearly as loud as the father.

In Legolas' room Tavor, Brethil, Bilbo, and Gwibess looked at one another and 
shook their heads in pity and sympathy.

"He has seen it," they all murmured. "Poor Legolas!"






Chapter 29 - Bubble Pipes and Red Handkerchiefs



Prince Legolas was seated on the edge of his bed, dressed in a shimmery green 
outfit, a bright wreath of flowers lying on the bed beside him. His father had 
ordered him to be dosed with Vandal Root tea - very, very strong Vandal Root tea 
- so strong that he had slept both the day and the night away in pleasant 
dreams. He had awakened this morning feeling mildly groggy; Gwibess crouched by 
his bed dressed in the original green robes. He had started slightly, still not 
used to the fact that he was already Master Let Go Lass; and had been for some 
time now.

"Oh, Master!" The spider had hissed, rising to her full height. "You're awake! 
You're awake!"

He managed to grimace at her, hoping that it would pass for a smile, and was 
rewarded by a pat on the head with one long, furry leg. He wondered briefly 
where Tavor and Brethil were but guessed that they had thought it best to leave 
him alone for a while. He had refused to look in the mirror, and had a battle 
with his fingers, yanking at the offending hand whenever it crept upward toward 
his hair.

Earlier that day, Tanglinna had come to him bearing the shimmering green robes 
just finished by Ceredirhammad. The Master Archer couldn't decide if he was 
highly amused or greatly annoyed. Legolas had stared at them in horror, starting 
to his feet.

"Tanglinna, I -"

"Your father commands it, my prince," he said with a slight grimace. ~Here we go 
again indeed! ~

"But Tanglinna -"

"You had better dress. Your father is expecting you, my prince." He handed him 
the soft clothing, then stood with his arms folded over his chest waiting for 
the prince to get dressed. The grumbling and growling started just as he had 
expected and he had to suppress a grin.

"You look most, uh, beautiful, my prince," he said, biting at his lips to keep 
from laughing in amusement at the look on the other's fair face. Amusement had 
won out over annoyance.

"I look like a girl!" The prince spat, flapping his arms like an over large 
green butterfly. "This is ridiculous. I think father just does this to torture 
me." He frowned suddenly, his head feeling very strange. "Have we had this 
conversation before?" He asked, touching his forehead.

Tanglinna merely smiled.

"You are not quite ready, my prince. One more thing is required."

"What else could this outfit possibly require?"

Tanglinna moved into the hall and returned bearing a wreath much like the other 
one of small green leaves, and berries trailing strands of white flowers. Only 
this one bore large orange lilies as well.

"For your hair," Tanglinna said handing it to him with a smirk. He had then 
turned and let the room grinning.

Legolas shook his head and sighed, staring at the wreath. The last day had been 
unbelievable and it would appear that the last few weeks had been as well. This 
wreath was unbelievable.

While he was sitting on the bed, pointedly not looking at the floral creation, 
the door swung open and then closed. Bilbo suddenly appeared, causing him to 
jump slightly. The Hobbit smiled as he slipped the Ring into his waistcoat 
pocket.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Prince Legolas."

The Elf smiled wryly as the small figure clambered up onto the bed to sit beside 
him.

"How are you feeling? Have you remembered anything yet?"

"No," Legolas sighed, slim fingers tracing a pattern on the bed's embroidered 
cover. "Not yet. Not on my own anyway. Just that I really need to keep my mouth 
shut."

Bilbo smiled.

"That does seem to be a problem around here. Don't worry. You will remember it 
all in time, I am sure."

"Has your friend Bumbury remembered yet?"

Bilbo grinned and patted Legolas' arm.

"No, uh, Bombur has not. You're an Elf though so perhaps your memory will return 
more quickly."

"Then my father's will as well," he grimaced, staring at the wall. "I hope to be 
far from here that day."

The Hobbit shifted slightly. He suddenly realized just how much he would miss 
this merry prince.

"Speaking of far from here -" He turned to look at the Elf. "The Dwarves and I 
are leaving. Very soon."

Legolas turned to look at him. He was surprised that he would miss the Hobbit, 
whom he had just met - a few weeks ago truly, but met again for just one day.

"Did I know that?" He asked wryly, with a smile.

"Well, I suppose that you did. Did you think we would stay here forever?"

The prince grinned down at him.

"Nay, I suppose not. Where are you going? I don't think you ever told me." 
Suddenly he laughed. "Even if you had I would have forgotten!"

Bilbo chuckled.

"That is true enough. I don't believe I did tell you, but - well, I don't think 
Thorin wanted your father to know where we were going."

"Then whatever you do DON'T tell me!" Mirkwood's prince continued to laugh. 
"That would be disastrous!"

The two laughed together for some time and Bilbo knew he would indeed miss the 
prince. He had enjoyed spending time with him, though he still felt guilty about 
the pipeweed.

"Thorin is in rather something of a hurry. He is getting rather impatient. Not 
that I can blame him. He has been shut in that cell for quite some time now. I 
am the only one having any fun," he grinned.

"Is he - is he the one I gave my hair to?" He grabbed at his hand as it reached 
slyly toward his hair.

"No, that was Gloin. He on the other hand doesn't wish to leave. He is rather 
distressed by your dilemma."

Legolas frowned. It was rather disconcerting that a Dwarf was so concerned about 
him.

"But we are going. Though Bombur has created something for your feast and would 
love to know what your father thinks of it," Bilbo continued. "Oh, bother! I 
suppose it wasn't wise to share that with you either! It is meant to be a 
surprise."

Legolas grinned.

"Perhaps I can manage not to say anything about it. I will try my best. I 
promise! Father would be very surprised to learn that a Dwarf made something for 
him to eat."

Bilbo smiled at him and patted his hand.

"It has been wonderful getting to know you and I shall miss you. I won't forget 
my time here. I may even write all this down someday. It would make a most 
interesting book, don't you think?"

"Uh, please don't write this part. I mean - uh, well - just skip the parts I 
have forgotten."

Bilbo laughed at the fair face, so twisted with embarrassment.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't do that to you. But it would make an interesting few 
chapters. Good heavens! So much has happened since entering Mirkwood, it would 
take nearly a whole book to record it all!"

"I almost hope that I "don't" remember what happened. From what you have all 
told me it sounded as if I have acted rather - er, foolishly."

"No, I wouldn't say that exactly. Though it has been rather amusing. But I do 
apologize about the pipeweed. I really didn't know how you would react. I guess 
that is why I have never seen an Elf smoking before." The Hobbit shook his head. 
"I wonder if Elrond would react that way."

Legolas couldn't suppress the grin that toyed on his lips.

"Perhaps some day you should ask him about the "Morn Nen" wine that we sent him. 
I wish I could have seen that! How long do you suppose he forgot things?"

"You sent Elrond Morn Nen wine? I didn't know that. That was rather wicked of 
you, Prince Legolas," Bilbo said, though he grinned at the thought. "One day I 
will have to ask him all about it. Perhaps he knows a quick cure then! That was 
very - daring of you to send that to him."

"Yes, I was young and foolish. What can I say?" He grinned widely at the Hobbit, 
noticing that a button on his waistcoat was missing. "I have that button. Let me 
get it for you!"

It wasn't until he had crossed the room and was rummaging in a box on the 
dresser that he realized what he had said.

"I - I remembered that, didn't I?"

"Wonderful! You are starting to get your memory back. I wonder why you are and 
poor Bombur hasn't yet."

Legolas found the button lying beside the Angol Osp Echor, the dragon- headed 
bubble pipe. He stared down at it and then drew it out as well.

"Bilbo, I want you to have this." He said handing him the pipe along with the 
button. "Something to remember me by," he continued with an amused look. "Not 
that "you" will forget it."

Bilbo held the pipe in his hand and smiled gently.

"Thank you, Prince Legolas. I will cherish it always. I may need it before my 
journey is over. Who knows." He thought of the dragon that lay ahead in the 
Lonely Mountain. Perhaps he would need it. "Though - if you don't mind I know a 
little Hobbit who will like it quite a lot and I should like to give it to her 
when my own adventure is over. Her mother will appreciate it since she is rather 
taken with Elves herself. She will think it wonderful to touch something once 
owned by the Elf Prince of Mirkwood." He grinned thinking of Little Pip and her 
rather silly mother. "The child has this fear of spiders, imagine that. Perhaps 
she can use this to help her."

"That would make me very happy. Tell her for me that spiders really aren't so 
bad," he laughed. Afraid of spiders! Imagine that indeed! "Oh, and take her this 
wreath as well!" He ruffled the leaves with his fingers.

"I don't think your father would like that very much. I don't want him angry 
with you again so soon. I would love to give you something to remember me by, 
though I don't suppose you want my pipe," Bilbo grinned. "That would indeed make 
the king very, very mad."

Legolas laughed, wondering if he would laugh when he entirely recovered his 
memory of that night. Or more importantly when his father remembered.

"Nay, that would probably not be a good thing."

"How about this?" He pulled out a clean red handkerchief. "This is one of the 
ones Elrond gave to me."

Legolas raised one eyebrow.

"Red?"

Bilbo grinned as the Elf took the square of red silk.

"Rather a bright color for the Lord of Rivendell, isn't it?" He agreed. "I 
understand from Lord Glorfindel that he has an entire drawer filled with them. 
Elrond is a mysterious person." He shook his head, and then sighed. "I suppose I 
had better be going then. I must watch for my chance to free the Dwarves after 
all." He solemnly extended a hand to the prince of Mirkwood. Legolas took it, 
squeezing it in a friendly manner.

"I hope that the rest of your adventure is as enjoyable as this one was - er 
is." He shrugged. "Are you certain I can't interest you in this wreath? Perhaps 
Gloin would like it. Though I haven't worn it yet, and there are no stray hairs 
caught in it," he giggled, thrusting the wreath onto his blonde head. "That was 
rather silly of me - cutting off my warrior braid and giving it to a Dwarf."

"You did make him very happy. Perhaps some day he will share it with his son, 
you know, the story of the fair Elf maiden of Mirkwood and then his son will 
fall in love with Legolas the Sparkly Green as well."

Legolas laughed, an image of himself in a sparkling robe of green and 
ridiculously tasteless circlet, blowing bubbles and singing the barrel song with 
a Dwarf.

"Then I hope to meet his son someday," he said, knowing that it would never 
happen in all the Ages of Middle Earth. "I shall charm him myself and have 
another conquest. We shall be the greatest of friends and people will wonder at 
that. A Dwarf and an Elf best friends! All because of a warrior braid given to 
his father so long ago."

Bilbo chuckled at the amusing, if impossible image.

"That would be something indeed. I hope to see it!" He slid from the bed and 
stood looking up at the prince who rose to his wreath perched on his head. 
"Farewell, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood."

"Farewell, Bilbo. Tell Gloin -er and the others - that I wish them a safe and 
-er profitable journey." He laughed They are Dwarves after all. There must be a 
treasure to be had in it somewhere. A treasure not consisting of spun gold Elf 
hair." He grinned and then said quietly "I hope to meet you again some time."

"That would be my fondest wish." The Hobbit bowed low and gracefully.

Legolas bowed and smiled at the Hobbit.

"Namarie, nin mellon."

Bilbo nodded, and turned to leave clutching his bubble pipe in one hand. He 
would miss the prince very much. He slipped on his Ring and vanished.

Legolas stared at the door as it opened and closed seemingly on its own.

"Good bye, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."




Chapter 30 - Out of the Hall of the Wood Elf King



Bilbo Baggins was indeed a lucky Hobbit. He had hoped that an opportunity would 
present itself during yet another feast taking place in the Hall above. It would 
be easier to slip out undetected when the Elves were involved with other things. 
When he heard the King's butler telling the chief of guards goodnight after the 
evening meal had been served to the Dwarves - and then hear the two decide to 
scamper off to sample some excellent Dorwinion wine - he knew that his luck had 
served him well indeed this night.

Tonight was the night that he and the Dwarves would leave the Hall of the Wood 
Elf king!

He followed after the two on silent, invisible feet. The Elves seated themselves 
at a small table, two great silver bowls and a pitcher of the fragrant, heady 
wine was soon before them. It was a potent wine, one meant for delicate glasses 
to be sipped with a delicious meal, not gulped by a soldier and a servant out of 
rather large drinking bowls. They were soon chattering away at one another about 
the spill the king and his son had taken into Morn Nen.

"Here is to the wonderful water of Morn Nen!" Galion the butler chortled. "It 
has brought us yet another feast. At least until the king remembers."

"It has brought us this wonderful wine as well," Ecthelhador laughed, clinking 
their bowls together.

"Here is to the King's memory! May it stay lost - at least until this night is 
over!"

Bilbo covered his mouth with his hand to stop the laughter from bubbling over 
his lips. Really, Wood Elves could be quite silly!

Galion was deep in conversation about all that had happened since the Dwarves' 
arrival when Ecthelhador blinked slowly several times. He then lay his head down 
on the table and began to snore softly.

Bilbo smiled again. Luck was indeed with him!

Galion continued to talk for some time, unaware that his companion was no longer 
listening to him.

"Do you suppose Legolas the Sparkly Green will make another appearance? I truly 
wish that I had been down here that night!" He exclaimed, slurring the words 
slightly. "He is dressed in green tonight - again!" He grinned suddenly. "With 
bright orange lilies in his hair!" He laughed out loud, taking another swallow 
of the excellent wine. "At least he isn't in that pink tunic tonight. Do you 
remember that one? It disappeared somewhat mysteriously from what I have heard." 
He yawned widely and blinked, staring somewhat blurrily at Ecthelhador . "Are 
you asleep?" He asked, stifling another yawn and hiccupping slightly. He was 
feeling somewhat sleepy himself. He passed a slim hand over his face, brushing 
aside a stray strand of silvery hair. "I hope King Thranduil isn't upset with us 
all when he realizes what has happened. Letting him think that - this was the - 
Autumn Feast - and all." His head dipped lower. No one would notice if he took a 
quick nap. The Dwarves were fed and locked up tight. He laid his heavy head on 
the table and was instantly asleep, eyes vacant and staring.

Bilbo waited a moment before moving into action. It still unnerved him to see 
the Elves sleeping with their eyes open. He crept across the hall, taking the 
heavy iron ring of keys from Ecthelhador's leather belt. He gritted his teeth 
and froze when they clanked together noisily. But the chief of the guards merely 
murmured something then turned his head to the wall, still sleeping soundly.

The Hobbit moved away from the two Elves and hurried off to the Dwarves' cells. 
He unlocked Balin's door first, startling the old Dwarf who was settling down 
for the night. But he was very pleased when he saw Bilbo standing there carrying 
the keys.

"Thank you, Bilbo," he said "I knew you would get us out of here at last! You 
are a very clever Hobbit."

Bilbo blushed under the praise and smiled.

"What is your plan?" Balin continued. "How will you get us free of this place?"

"I have no time to discuss it now, Balin. We must get the others out and be on 
our way as quickly as possible! This is our last chance! If we are caught who 
knows what the King will do to you next!" He shuddered to think of how angry 
Thranduil would be when his memory returned only to find that the Dwarves had 
tried to escape on top of it! "He will probably chain you up somewhere, hands 
and feet!"

They hustled down the hall to the other cells. Bombur, who had spent a great 
deal of time in the Elves' kitchens lately was quite sorry to see it all ending.

"How will I ever know if he liked what I prepared for him?" He asked morosely.

"You can talk to him at some other time!" Bilbo exclaimed, hissing them all to 
silence as he unlocked Gloin's cell. "But we must make haste!" He lived in fear 
that the two Elves would awaken and catch them. Or worse yet, that the King 
would regain his memory and come storming down to the cells to check on the 
prisoners.

Gloin squinted at them, his hand over his heart.

"Are you ready to go, Gloin?" Bilbo asked him tenderly as the Dwarf joined them.

He nodded, his head bent, fingers twined in his dirty hood.

Balin sighed and patted his shoulder.

"You will meet - er - "her" again, I am sure, Gloin. But we must be going. The 
Dragon awaits," he reassured. He still wasn't positive himself about the Prince 
or Princess. But he was eager to be on his way just the same.

Gloin merely nodded and as they traveled down the hall bumping and stumbling 
into one another in the dark, they could hear him softly singing,

"Fair as a rose in May, Elven maiden with hair of gold."

At last they arrived at Thorin's cell, which was closest to their destination. 
The Dwarf leader was rather amazed at the sight of them all standing outside his 
cell, quite unharmed.

"Upon my word!" He exclaimed. "Gandalf spoke true, as usual! A pretty fine 
burglar you make, it seems, when the time comes. I am sure we are all forever at 
your service, whatever happens after this. But what comes next?"

Bilbo drew a deep breath and began to tell them of his plan. He knew that he 
would encounter opposition, after all, the Dwarves had been trapped in their 
tiny cells for many weeks now and would not take kindly to being stuffed into 
barrels for an unknown amount of time, floating off down the river and out of 
the forest.

"We shall be all bruised and battered to pieces!" Nori squeaked.

"And drowned, too, for certain." Bifur muttered.

"We thought you had some sensible notion, when you managed to get hold of the 
keys. This is madness!" Dwalin huffed.

Bilbo sighed dejectedly.

"Very well! Come along back to your nice cells, and I will lock you all in 
again, and you can sit there comfortably and think of a better plan - but I 
don't suppose I shall ever get hold of the keys again, even if I feel inclined 
to try."

Bombur was nodding. He was all for staying, and then he would find out what the 
king thought of his food. Gloin looked hopefully at Thorin, but knew they would 
leave this night. As he trudged after Bilbo toward the lowest cellars he glanced 
back up the hall where they had come from.

"Crowned with flowers bright as day. You've touched my heart once stony and 
cold."

He knew a piece of his heart would always reside here in Mirkwood with a golden 
haired Elf maiden named Legolas the Sparkly Green.

~I should have brought him the wreath, ~ Bilbo thought with a sigh. ~Or at least 
one of the lilies!

Bilbo had stuffed the Dwarves into their barrels, padding them with some straw 
that he had found trying to make them as comfortable as possible. Bombur was 
delighted with his, as it still smelt of the apples that had been packed in it. 
The Hobbit had just finished shutting in a very grumbly, growly Thorin when he 
heard voices and saw the flicker of lights. Soon a number of Elves entered the 
cellars talking and laughing. They began to hunt for old Galion whom it seemed 
was late bringing up the wine. They found him and Ecthelhador sleeping 
peacefully, faces contented and happy in their dreaming state. They soon woke 
the butler who was not at all pleased at having his slumber interrupted. They of 
course had to sample the excellent Dorwinion wine for themselves and soon found 
out why the butler had been somewhat remiss in his duties to the king.

"Get on with the work!" Galion growled at them urging them to dump the empty 
barrels into the water and send them on their way. The younger Elves complained 
that the barrels did not feel empty and that they would not take the blame if 
the king's butter tubs and best wine were pushed into the river by mistake. It 
seemed that the king was acting rather strangely just at present and they feared 
that his odd mood might turn onto them.

Bilbo, invisible once again, watched as one by one the barrels were rolled down 
into the tunnel leading to the river to the accompaniment of the Barrel Song. He 
bit at his bottom lip hoping that the Dwarves would be all right. But then he 
realized something he had not thought of. What was he to do with himself? He 
certainly didn't wish to stay here forever, creeping about the Halls with only 
Legolas and his friends for company. Besides, the Dwarves wouldn't know what to 
do without him!

As the very last barrel was rolled to the doors, he caught hold of it and felt 
it drop into the cold water below. He clung to it with all his strength feeling 
the barrel roll, sending him beneath the water and then righting itself. But as 
he scrambled about he found that the barrel continued to roll because it was 
actually an empty barrel. He floated with it out the doors and into the tunnel 
leading to the river beyond. He could still hear the song of the Elves behind 
him and then he heard the water- gate close with a boom. The voices became 
fainter and then faded away.

~Good bye, Prince Legolas, ~ he thought silently. ~I hope we may meet again 
someday! ~





He wasn't certain of the exact moment the first memory crept in upon him. He had 
been enjoying the feasting , the singing, the dancing, and the general 
merriment. His eyes slid amongst his fair folk, pleased by their happy 
countenances, and bright clothing. His eyes came to rest on his youngest son, 
the orange lilies catching his attention. He smiled indulgently at his son who 
had not made even one complaint this evening about his shimmery green outfit and 
floral wreath.

~Yes, ~ he thought with great satisfaction. ~He is learning! Perhaps that pink 
outfit did the trick ---~ He frowned. Pink outfit? The frown deepened to a 
scowl. He plucked up his goblet and took a swallow of the wine. Where was Galion 
with the good Dorwinion stuff? WHAT PINK OUTFIT??!!

He turned to glare at his Master Archer who was seated to his left. Tanglinna, 
feeling his king's gaze upon him, turned slightly. Instantly he knew there was 
trouble.

"Is something wrong, your Majesty?" He asked, hoping that his voice didn't 
betray his anxiety.

"Yes, Tanglinna, there is! Where is Legolas' pink outfit?"

The Archer's eyes widened and he felt his throat close slightly.

"Prince Legolas' pink outfit, your Majesty?"

Thranduil's scowl deepened further as he tried to force his memories into 
submission. There was something - a spider? Was it one spider or - four? He 
shook his head. Nay, that could not be it! Spiders indeed! But all the same his 
narrowed eyes moved back to his son. He was sitting with Tavor and Brethil, 
laughing and talking. Why did he feel so strongly that he should be quite upset 
with them?

Tanglinna followed the direction of the king's gaze. He grimaced. ~Not now! ~ He 
thought. ~Please not now! ~

"Are you feeling quite well, your Majesty?" He managed, fingers twining in the 
linen napkin on his lap.

"No, I am not! Why should I be angry with them, Tanglinna? Tell me!" Suddenly 
Thranduil turned to the Master Archer. "And with YOU!"

Tanglinna gasped slightly as the hawk like gaze fell upon him. He didn't feel 
very well himself!

"I - I - Your Majesty, I don't know what you are talking about!"

"Don't you?" One eyebrow raised and Tanglinna knew he was done for. "You were 
there, Tanglinna. When Legolas cut off his warrior braid! You were the one who 
caught me when I Brethil ran into me!"

The Archer couldn't prevent himself from glancing over at the prince who was 
oblivious of the danger that was suddenly brewing.

"You - you remember that, do you?"

Thranduil's mouth twisted.

"Why do I have the feeling that the way you "phrased" that question is very 
important?" He growled low in his throat.

"I - I - I can't imagine why you would think that? It is just a simple question, 
really!" The Archer hedged. Suddenly all of Tavor's talk of Mandos Halls sounded 
rather pleasant.

Now that Thranduil was making an effort to gather his thoughts coherently, 
images filled his mind. He pursed his lips in concentration. Suddenly he started 
to his feet.

"Don't even think about moving, Tanglinna," he ordered, his voice a hiss, more 
like a spider than an Elven king.

Everyone paused in their activities as the king strode from the room.

Brethil watched him go, assessing him minutely.

"He's remembered," he said taking another bite of the luscious cake prepared by 
Bombur. Creamy, fluffy icing that stood several inches tall topped the white 
cake. It was in the shape of a tree to honor the Elves. "This is the best thing 
that I have ever tasted," he continued, oblivious to the panicked looks on his 
friends' faces. "That Dwarf is an excellent baker! I wonder if your father has 
tasted this yet, Legolas."

But the prince was staring across the table at Tanglinna.

The Archer was sitting stiffly, eyes narrowed with anxiety. Slowly he raised his 
head to meet the other's gaze. He shook his head and drew a finger across his 
throat.

"Ai, Valar!" Legolas croaked. "He "has" remembered!"

"I told you," Brethil said, shoveling more cake into his mouth. "You really 
should try this. It is very good!"

"Why can't I remember?! I remembered Bilbo's button, didn't I?" His eyes 
widened. "Oh, no! The Dwarves!" He turned to grasp Tavor's arm. "I can't tell 
him about the Dwarves!" I promised Bilbo I wouldn't! At least I think I promised 
Bilbo that I wouldn't! Help me, Tavor!" He gripped his friend's arm like a vise, 
teeth clamped tightly together.

"It will be so beautiful there," Tavor said in an unconcerned voice. "So quiet, 
and peaceful: no one screaming or shrieking; no Dwarves; no spiders; no Orcs - 
singing or otherwise; no one trying to pull your arm off. It will be "so" nice."

Legolas backed away from him with a horrified look on his face.

"Mandos Halls again," Brethil murmured ingenuously, licking the sugary icing 
from his fingers. "I think Tanglinna wished to join him. He looks rather - 
upset."

The prince of Mirkwood stared at the Archer who had turned and was gazing at the 
doorway. Legolas' blue eyes traveled there as well. His mouth dropped open.

"Now you look rather upset," Brethil commented. "Almost balrogged I would say!"

Everyone in the hall looked to see the king standing there, hands clenched at 
his sides.

"WHERE IS CELEB BAUDH??!!"

Tanglinna jumped visibly.

"I am done for," he murmured as the feasters hastily rose and exited the hall 
through the opposite door, as far from the king as possible.

The Archer stood as well, hoping he could make good his own escape, but it was 
not to be.

"Sit down!" Thranduil ordered, advancing slowly into the room

"It is as the footsteps of doom," Brethil intoned, licking his fork.

"We "are" doomed," Tavor said quietly, now that visions of Mandos Halls had been 
scared from his mind by the king's shriek. He pressed his hand to his racing 
heart.

"The king is good and wise." Brethil said, now examining the fork to see if he 
had missed any icing.

"Little Greenleaf, I need to speak with you," Thranduil said, his eyes flashing 
fiercely.

Legolas' legs suddenly began to shake, all the calmness and merriment having 
fled before his father's wrath.

"Adar! I - I don't remember anything! I - I fell into Morn Nen, too! I don't 
know why I can't remember anything and you can! I don't know why!"

"Morn Nen? And what were we doing at Morn Nen?"

"He doesn't remember everything it seems."

"Shut up, Brethil!"

"Oh, very well, your Majesty." The young Elf cut another slice of cake. "Can't 
talk when my mouth is full anyway," he grinned.

"I - I don't remember," Legolas began again, nearly tipping his chair over as he 
backed away. But then he "did" remember.

"Oh! Oh! We were getting the jewels back from the spiders!" He said, eyes 
brightening as knowledge once lost came flooding back.

"Spiders?" Thranduil whispered, touching his face. "Spiders!"

"Yes! Yes! You remember! The ones that made up your face! You looked like a 
princess!" He laughed aloud. "I thought it was very funny since you had put me 
into that pink outfit. Poetic justice! Almost! I was pretty in pink and you 
looked like a princess, too, in your makeup! Like father, like son!"

Tavor seemed to start from his stupor at this and stared up at the prince in 
disbelief.

"He's turned into you," he murmured in amazement to Brethil behind Legolas' 
back.

The other Elf nodded, eating his cake and for once, not saying anything.

Thranduil's face reddened, which should have been a warning sign to his son, but 
Legolas continued heedlessly, ticking various memories off on his fingers:

"And there was the hair on your robes. Gwibess did that, but she was very sorry 
and won't do it again. But the two of you would make great friends if you would 
just give her the chance. You both like fancy clothes and sparkly things -"

"Shut up, Legolas!" Tavor hissed from the side of his mouth. "Shut up!"

"And polishing your gems! Do you recall how many days it took the four of us to 
polish all your gems and things? I thought we would never finish!" He grinned at 
his father. "And then of course there were the Orcs!"

"Orcs?"

Mirkwood's prince nodded.

"Yes! They were looking for the Singing Orc Princess," he giggled somewhat 
hysterically. "Fancy that! Singing Orcs! Of course we showed them that we are 
fierce, feral warriors of Mirkwood!" He made what he hoped was a fierce, feral 
face, but the lilies and the green shimmery clothing rather ruined the effect.

Thranduil was breathing deeply now, trying to control himself. It was one thing 
to listen to Brethil's inane chatter, but quite another to listen to his son's.

"Shut up, Legolas!" Tavor hissed again, tugging on the green robe.

Thranduil drew another deep breath.

"Where is Celeb Baudh?" He asked once again.

"Celeb Baudh? I don't know the answer to that one," Legolas shrugged. "But I 
remember the Wild Berry War!" He grinned hopefully.

"Wild Berry War?"

"It was very fun! You see, it started when Celuon and I started throwing berries 
at one another. Rather like this." He scooped up a small piece of Gloin's cake 
and threw it at his father who now stood a few feet away. It splattered on 
Thranduil's nose.

"Great Valar!" Tanglinna breathed. He had managed to stay in his seat as 
ordered, thus far avoiding the king's notice.

"Legolas!" Tavor gasped.

Brethil frowned slightly.

"The king is good and wise. And sticky. You look balrogged now, Tavor. You are 
wasting it," he pouted cutting a huge chunk from the remainder of the large cake 
and placing it on his plate..

Thranduil glared at his son, who grimaced as he realized what he had done. The 
king wiped the sugar off his face. He stared at it then licked it from his 
fingers. He frowned slightly, then grinned.

"That is quite good actually."

"I told you," Brethil chimed in. "But no one ever listens to me. Honestly, I 
have a great many things to tell you, things that you need to know, but you are 
always telling me -"

"Shut up, Brethil!" Three voices said at once.

"Exactly." Brethil shook his blonde head and continued eating.

Thranduil looked at Legolas once more. Then he deliberately moved, closing the 
distance between them.

"Adar! Please! I - I don't know what just happened! I -"

Suddenly a piece of cake caught him in the face, effectively silencing his 
words.

Tanglinna stared in shock at them, then burst out laughing.

The king and his son turned as one to stare at him, blue eyes identical beneath 
one raised brow.

"You think that was funny, Master Archer of Mirkwood?" Thranduil asked.

"Ah, well, no. That is - well -" But before he could vacate his seat and gain 
his freedom, two well aimed pieces of cake hit him.

"You are wasting it!" Brethil gasped again, grabbing the remainder from them.

"Oh, truly?" Thranduil winked at Legolas and they advanced on Brethil.

Soon all five Elves were covered with sticky cake and icing, laughing 
uproariously. Suddenly a loud shriek filled the air. The Elves cringed, never 
had they heard such a loud noise, not even from their king! As it died away, 
they turned to see Gwibess standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing, Gwibess!?" Legolas asked the spider who was still adorned 
in the first green outfit.

"Thrumb Dumb needs to learn to be nice to the Masters!!" She shrieked loudly. 
"If not I will become the Aran!"

"She was the loudest!" Tavor commented, rubbing his aching ears. "Even louder 
than Thrumb Dumb - er - the King - er King Thranduil."

Thranduil looked at Tavor with a glare and then at the giant spider.

"Actually - Gwibess? - I have a necklace that will compliment that outfit rather 
nicely."

The spider's many eyes widened. Then she smiled.

"Truly, O Great Thrumb Dumb?"

"Yes, remind me later and I will give it to you."

The spider pounced across the room with amazing speed. She swept the Aran into 
the air, holding him in at least four of her long legs.

"I always knew you were a nice Aran! I did!"

It was Legolas that laughed first and then Tavor and Brethil. Then Tanglinna 
shook his head and began to shake with mirth as well.

When at last they had managed to calm themselves, Thranduil frowned as he was 
placed on the floor.

"Speaking of jewelry - where is Celeb Baudh?"



The next day the five Elves headed for Morn Nen. Tanglinna was silent, not 
looking at anyone about him. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. Why 
did he ever think that throwing Celeb Baudh into Morn Nen would work? Thranduil 
had not been amused.

After several hours of hard riding through the forest they suddenly reined in. 
There were voices singing ahead, near the enchanted river. They dismounted and 
moved silently forward. The voices were unlovely and gruff though the words 
carried clearly enough.

"Once the Singing Orc Princess fair and bright, Came running to us in the night. 
Joy filled our hearts at that lovely sight As the Singing Orc Princess ran fair 
and bright!"

Legolas' eyes widened in shock and anger!

"They are singing about us!"



"Then came the Queen so fierce and bright, Came running to us in the night. Joy 
filled our hearts at that lovely sight! As the Queen ran so fierce and bright!"

"The Queen?" Brethil frowned. Then he smiled. "Oh! Yes! They mean you, King 
Thranduil! They "were" admiring you! That is exactly what I had thought!"

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the idea of Orcs singing about him. 
And calling him a Queen no less!

"Their golden hair flowing, so fine and bright, As they came running to us in 
the night! Joy filled our hearts at that lovely sight! As the Queen and the 
Princess ran so fine and bright!"

"I will not stand for this!" The king of Mirkwood growled. He drew his sword and 
rushed toward the voices, followed closely by his companions.

"Oh, look!" Brethil gasped, as they broke into the clearing. He pointed at the 
tallest Orc. "He is wearing Celeb Baudh!"





"Well, Frodo my lad, what did you think of that little adventure of mine?"

The young Hobbit stared up at his cousin, blue eyes wide. He was sitting on his 
knees, leaning somewhat forward.

"Did that really happen, Cousin Bilbo?" He chirped, the cookie in his hand 
forgotten for sometime now.

"Of course it did. All of it is true. Every word." The older Hobbit smiled and 
winked.

Frodo studied him for a moment, then a shy grin crept over his face.

"Did he really act "that" silly?"

"Yes, he did, the poor prince. He has had some adventures of his own it would 
appear!"

"Do you know any more stories from Mirkwood?" The little Hobbit gobbled his 
cookie, still staring intently at his cousin. -" He giggled. "Did Legolas get 
into trouble again? Did Tanglinna get into trouble for throwing that crown into 
Morn Nen? Did King Thranduil remember the Dwarves at last? What happened to the 
Orcs? What about Gwibess? -"

"Slow down, little one! Slow down! Of course I know what happened! I did see the 
Prince at the Battle of Five Armies after all. He told me everything." He shook 
his head. "My goodness! Yes, I know what happened in Mirkwood after we left the 
Wood Elf King's Hall, but that is tale for another day, and some others besides. 
Are you up to a visit to Miss Pip's house?" He asked. "I am sure she will be 
glad to show you the Bubble Pipe that once belonged to Prince Let Go Lass!"

Frodo jumped up, eyes bright.

"Really? Will she let me hold it, do you think?"

"I am sure she will let you make bubbles with it!"

Frodo smiled, the blue eyes so bright and happy, and Bilbo felt his heart melt. 
He really did love his little cousin and was glad that the sadness that had nigh 
overwhelmed him earlier seemed to have dissipated.

"Well, come along then! We can clean this mess up later. Perhaps I will have 
another story to tell you then." He held out his hand and Frodo took it. The 
child skipped ahead of him out of Bag End, dragging his cousin behind him.

"Will I ever have an adventure, Cousin Bilbo? One with Prince Let Go Lass 
maybe?" He grinned at the joke.

"Who can say, Frodo? One never knows when a Wizard might show up at your door. 
Who can say?"

THE END






Response to Reviewers

**To clear up some confusion I will tell you that Little Pip is the nickname of 
my beta reader al's daughter. She likes a certain cute young Hobbit (bet you can 
guess who) so I made her into the Little Pip in this story: a young girl Hobbit 
that Bilbo knows who is afraid of spiders. Ever since I have known about the 
bubble pipe, I knew Legolas was going to give it to Bilbo before he leaves. I 
thought that it would be a nice gesture for the Hobbit to give it to Little Pip 
to help her overcome her fear of creepy crawly eight-legged beasties! She is 
mentioned in Chapter 9 I believe.