The wind whistled through the tall trees, rustling the leaves that littered the forest floor. Small amounts of sunlight peeked through the thick tangle of branches above. A small group of elves made their way thought the forest, out for an afternoon walk. They were tall and fair beings, immortal and wise. Two walked hand in hand, with much love in their eyes. Thranduil was tall and proud, his long blonde hair swept back off his face by an intricate knot. A simple circlet rested on his head, mithril pattern of leaves and vines, showing his royal status. The she-elf beside him was just a bit shorter than he. Eáránë, his wife and the love of his life, watched their children playing just ahead. Her long black hair was unbound moved gently in the soft breeze. Before them ran three children, of all appearances being the ages of 2, 6, and 10. The elder two children each held a hand of their younger brother. The young elfling who toddled between his older brother and sister had the golden hair of his father, but his mother's clear blue eyes. He was the newest and last addition to the royal family.

The family made their way through the trees, listening to the sounds of the forest that was their home. To visiting elves and even humans, the woods were frightening and dangerous. The Sindarin elves, which lived in these woods, were quite comfortable, knowing the dangers of the forest and taking it along with the beauty. As they walked, Thranduil kept one eye on the surrounding forest. Even the king of Mirkwood did not go unarmed in his own forest. Watching his children laughing before him, Thranduil was reminded of the fact that they would be his only children. The birth of their last child, Legolas, had been hard on Eáránë. He had worried for his wife's health after the difficult delivery and they had decided that Legolas would be their last child. Lenwë and his sister Lessien led Legolas on, trying to coax him to take a few steps on his own without the help of one of their hands. Lenwë stepped a few paces ahead of the toddler, holding his hands out to his younger brother.

"Come on now, Legolas. You can do it! Just take a few steps and come to Len." Thranduil smiled at his eldest son and first child. He had inherited his mother's dark hair, as had his sister Lessien. Legolas was the only of the three to receive his own golden locks. Lessien gently pried one of her hands out of Legolas's, leaving him with only one finger to hold onto for balance. With a few more words of encouragement, Legolas reluctantly let go of Lessien's finger. Thranduil and Eáránë stopped to see what their youngest son would do. Freezing, not wanting to stop her little brother, Lessien watched as, slowly, Legolas determinedly set one foot in front of the other and took a few toddling steps into his brother's outstretched arms.

"You did it, dilthen gwador (little brother)! Ada! Nana! Did you see? Legolas took his first steps!" Lenwë scooped up his little brother and swung him round in a happy circle. Thranduil and Eáránë laughed at the sight of their children. Eáránë quickly came and claimed her youngest child from her son's grasp.

"What a grown up young elf, Legolas." She hugged her young son, turning to Thranduil. "I do believe a celebration is in order, don't you agree, my Lord?" Thranduil walked up to wrap one arm around his daughter and the other about his wife's slim waist.

"Yes, I do believe a celebration is in order. When we return to the hall, you all shall receive a surprise." He smiled at his wife. They had been waiting for a special occasion to give their presents to the children, and now they had good reason.

The sound of laughter filled the halls of Thranduil. It was not uncommon for such noises to be gracing the halls and corridors. It had been two years since that faithful day in the woods where the young Prince Legolas took his first steps. He now toddled with great confidence about the halls and it was his older siblings' favorite game to chase and tickle him. Legolas would run screaming and giggling through the halls as fast as his short two year old legs would carry him. At the moment, he was being chased by his sister Lessien about the throne room. His older brother Lenwë hid between their father's throne and their mother's, waiting for the little elfling to come close enough to grab. Legolas scrambled up the few steps of the dais, and giggling loudly ran past the four thrones. Lenwë and Lessien had received their own, smaller thrones on the day that Legolas took his first steps. They now were permitted to sit with their parents on days of court.

As Legolas scrambled past Lenwë's throne, set to the right of his father's, his older brother lay in wait, just a few more of those wobbly toddler steps and he would have his little brother. He was about to reach out and grab his little brother when a booming voice stopped all motion in the room.

"What is going on in here?" Thranduil had been passing by the throne room when he heard his youngest son's shrieks and peels of laughter from his daughter. He glared at his daughter and his eldest son who was slowly rising from between the two thrones. Both the older children's faces were beat red, looking down at their feet. "Why are you not studying with your tutors? And why is Legolas out of the nursery?"

"Our tutors are so boring Ada! And Legolas was driving the nanny crazy..." Thranduil stared at his daughter as she attempted to make up some excuse for the ruckus that they had been causing. He turned to his eldest son, waiting for an explanation.

"We're sorry, Ada. We should not have left our tutors." He did not make any excuses, just simply apologized for the fact that they were not where they were supposed to be. While they had been discussing this, Legolas managed to tumble down the few steps of the dais, and with the resilience of a two-year-old, toddled up to his father. Gently tugging on his father's long tunic, Legolas reached his arms up to his father, a sweet smile on his young face.

Thranduil could hardly deny the elfling, bending down to pick him up and settling him on his hip. Legolas beamed at his father and then wrapped his chubby arms around the king's neck. Lenwë had now come to stand beside his sister, still not looking his father in the eye.

"You both will return to your lessons, and will apologize to your tutors for leaving. To be certain that this does not happen again, Lessien, you will have a month of kitchen duties, starting tonight." Lenwë laughed at his sister's misfortune. She hated working in the kitchens. "I would not be laughing if I were you Lenwë." His father looked sternly down on his eldest child. "You will double the time spent on your weapons training and you will sit with your mother and me on Trial days for two months."

Lenwë's smile quickly faded. Though he would enjoy the increased time spent on weapons training, he absolutely hated Trial days. These were the days when citizens of the Woodland Realm could come to the Hall and present problems to the king and queen for a solution. Often times it was simply a matter of coming up with a compromise, but the days were long and some of the arguments were very petty.

"Someday, my son, you will be king. It is time you begin to learn just what it means to be king. And you, my son," Thranduil said, turning his head to address his youngest in his arms, "are going back to the nursery, where you will behave for the nanny." With one last look at he elder children, Thranduil saw them scurrying back to their tutors; he left the throne room and headed in the direction of the nursery.

---

He had almost reached the nursery, Legolas having fallen asleep in his arms, when a horn blast sounded through the halls. It was no ordinary call, but one for desperate help. The nanny had appeared at the doorway to the nursery, curious as to what was going on. Thranduil quickly but gently handed off his son to the baffled looking elf and then hurried out to the where the sentries were gathered.

"My Lord, we are under attack! Orcs have made their way across the northern and western boarders. The messenger just arrived with news." The captain of the palace guard informed the king. He quickly led Thranduil through the halls to where a very exhausted looking elf was being given immediate first aid before being taken to the Healing Hall. The elf was young, perhaps only three hundred and fifty years old, though to the human eye, he would appear only twenty. There was an orc arrow lodged deeply into his left shoulder and he bore cuts and gashes of various sizes all over his body. He was in no immediate danger unless the arrow was poisoned.

"What happened?" Thranduil knelt next to the messenger whose breathing was becoming labored. He lay a gentle hand on the elf's forehead, giving him some temporary relief from the pain so that he could explain what had transpired.

"They ambushed us from the north... a group of three hundred or so..." the elf winced in pain. Blood was slowly seeping through the bandage that had temporarily been placed on the wound. Thranduil again sent a small amount of healing power to the elf, hoping that there was more the messenger could tell him.

"How many?"

"Three hundred, my Lord... with more on the way..." The messenger's voice was losing its strength. Thranduil saw this and nodded to the two elves at his side to take the messenger to the Healing Hall. He then stood and looked at the warrior elves standing ready to protect their home and their king. Mirkwood was home to hundreds of Sindarin or Wood Elves. There were approximately two hundred elves living in the palace. Three hundred or more elves lived in small communities surrounding the Hall and throughout Mirkwood's Forest. Thranduil turned to his captain of the guard.

"Golradir, send patrols out to as many of the settlements as possible and bring all of the elves back here. Call together as many warriors as you can spare. We ride North West within the hour." Thranduil then turned and walked back into the hall. His thoughts were on the upcoming battle as he made his way up to the council room. On his way he passed by Lenwë and Lessien's lesson rooms. He paused long enough to poke his head in.

"Fëanáro, Huor, lessons are canceled, report to Golradir as soon as you finish here. Lenwë and Lessien, go find your mother. Lenwë, tell her that the settlements are coming here. You and your sister are to help her prepare for their coming." Thranduil left quickly then, his mind thinking of the numbers and the odds of battle.

Lenwë and Lessien looked at each other, then up at their tutors. They had already begun to pack up the schooling supplies.

"You heard your father," Huor said. "Go find you mother, and hurry." He handed a pile of books to Fëanáro then turned and picked up the quiver and bow that always sat in the far corner of the room. He then turned and headed for the door.

"You'll be alright Fëanáro?" Lessien asked. This was the first time that there had been any kind of war or aggressive action in the Greenwood Realm in a millennium. She and her brother had never seen any kind of war or violence other than regular boarder patrol skirmish.

Fëanáro looked back at the princess. He could see that both she and the crown prince were worried. Violence was making itself present in their peaceful world for the first time in their young elf lives. He knelt in front of the princess so that he was level with her.

"Yes, Princess Lessien, I will be alright."

"That's right, Princess Lessien; Fëanáro is one of the best warriors in the Greenwood realm." Huor also came to kneel beside Lessien and Lenwë, who had come to stand beside his younger sister. "Now, you both had better go find your mother."

Lenwë nodded and took his sister's hand. They hurried through the corridors dodging around elves that were making their way outside to report to Golradir. After about ten minuets of searching, they found the queen in one of the studies. Eáránë was looking through scrolls and books and talking quietly to the steward, Anaranë. Both women looked up when the children came in.

"Father said to tell you that the settlements are coming here." Lenwë delivered the message then both he and his sister hurried to their mother's side. Eáránë hugged her daughter and son, seeing that they both where troubled by the events that were taking place.

"I'll go and check these numbers, my Lady." Anaranë curtsied to the queen and prince and princess and then left the family to themselves. She was more than able to prepare for the huge influx of elves that would shortly be arriving, fleeing the orc raids.

Eáránë, having comforted her children, held them each at arm's length to see them more clearly. There was not much that she could do for them. They were scared, yes, but, having heard of the trouble brewing in the west even more; this was going to become more common.

"Well now, we have a lot of things to do to be prepared for our guests. Lenwë, I want you to go down to the stables and help the stable master. He's going to need it with all the warriors going out and refugees coming in. Lessien, I want you to the Healing Hall and help them to prepare. Many who will be coming will most likely be in need of medical attention. Report to Mistress Linwë. Both of you are to listen to your elders. If they tell you to do something, do it, no questions asked. Do you understand me?" She didn't want to scare her children, but Eáránë needed to impress on them the importance of the situation. There was a good possibility that the orcs could make it this far into Mirkwood. She prayed to the Valiar that it wouldn't come to that, but they needed to be ready if it did.

---

Legolas played with the wooden animals that his mother had given for him when she and his father had presented Lenwë and Lessien with their own thrones. They were very old, having been giving to mother by her father when she was a little elfling. He was quite content to weave fascinating stories about their lives and adventures that they would take in the way only a young child can. He did not pay much attention to the nanny who would, every so often, look out the door, asking questions of those who were hurrying past. His Ada had told him to stay here, and as much as he wanted to be outside under the thick canopy of branches, he would obey his father. He did not like it when Thranduil was angry with him. He loved both his parents, and his brother and sister, who played with him as often as they could.

Seeing that the young prince was occupied for the time being, Náriël, Legolas's appointed nanny, stepped outside. She needed to find out what was going on. Her husband, Huor, was the Princess's personal tutor, but also a valued member of the king's guard. If the warriors were being called out, she wanted to say goodbye before they left. With one more glance back at the young prince, she quickly hurried down the hall. She wouldn't be gone long, but she simply had to see her husband before he left.

---

Thranduil swept up onto his large black stallion with ease. He rode out to the gaits of the hall, riding to the head of the column of elves that fight with him. Golradir had managed to muster somewhere around two hundred and fifty warriors from those living in the hall and those fleeing the orc invaders. There were some warriors with horses, but most of the elves would travel by foot. Though he knew that they would be able to keep up, for the most part, Thranduil still worried that they might not be able to reach the furthest settlement in time.

"Elves of Greenwood! You have been called to fight and protect our home. Western filth had invaded our northern and western boarders and destroyed our northern most settlements. Ride with me for the freedom of our forest!" Upon Thranduil's last words, his stallion reared high, and then he galloped through the gaits, the handful of horsemen following close behind. Golradir set the footmen out at a pace not all that short of a run, as the silently followed their leader and king.

---

It was not long after the departure of the warriors that the first of the refugee families began to appear at the hall's outer most gaits. They were welcomed in warmly and quickly ushered inside. The wounded were escorted to the Healing hall and others were served a hot meal and settled in the great hall. Many were comforted by the fact that the royal family of Greenwood was seen about the hall, working just as hard everyone else. Lenwë promised to take good care of the gentle pack horses that had faithfully carried their owners to the safety of the hall, and Lessien was given charge of the orphaned children who had been brought in by neighbors. She was doing a marvelous job of keeping the younger elves occupied and comforted while their parents and guardians were being treated for their wounds. The queen herself was helping to disturbed the meals to those well enough to take some nourishment and always offered a kind word to those who were despairing at the loss of a loved one. Many elves would fade within the next few days as word was brought back by messengers.

Lurking in the dark of the trees, a band of orcs who has slipped past the elven defenses quietly made their way closer to Thranduil's hall. Sentries were killed before they could sound the alarm, therefore giving the orcs the element of surprise. Among the filthy rabble brought up by Sauron, were men from south, their hearts as black as the dark lord's. Being more nimble, the quickly entered the hall through the few windows and balconies that were open, surprising the occupants inside. It didn't take long before the Hall realized that they were under attack.

While they children severely wounded elves were hidden in secret compartments throughout the hall, what remaining weapons were passed around to all those who could possibly fight. The battle was bloody and many more elves fell than orcs and men. The sound of metal upon metal and the cries of the dying filled the air.

---

"Hey! You two, go in that window, come round through the hall and meet me round the corner."

Legolas looked up at the unfamiliar voice and language. He did not understand what was being said. Curious, he toddled over closer to the window. He was about to look out when two large men broke through. Scared and startled, Legolas let out a terrified cry. One of the men looked down to see who or what had mad the noise. He raised his sword, ready to strike down the young elf when his partner stopped him.

"No...I'll take care of him... Go meet the others."

The one who had raised the sword looked at his partner, and nodded, quickly leaving the nursery to continue the attack from another angle. The man who had stayed his partner's sword knelt down before the screaming elfling. It was not policy to take prisoners, but there always were some exceptions. His wife had just lost their third child in birth and he had two young sons at home. Sheathing his weapons the man reached out and picked up the small elf.

Legolas, confused and very scared screamed even louder as the man picked him up. He struggled and wiggled with all his might, wanting desperately to be with his Ada or Nana. This stranger was no elf, and he smelt of dirt and blood. Kicking and waving his arms, Legolas protested as much as possible hoping that someone would come and save him.

Growing tired of trying to hold the squirming youngster, the man set the elf down then began to look about the nursery, keeping hold of one of his hands. If elves were anything like humans they would keep some kind of sleep potion for their young ones close by. Most certainly they had too much energy for their own good sometimes. Recognizing a small vile on a high shelf, the man took it down and uncorked it. Cautiously he sniffed the contents. Yup, that was it. Looking around he found small cup. Putting a few drops of liquid in the cup from the vile, he then filled the cup the rest of the way with water from his water skin. He then presented the cup to the little elf, urging him to drink.

The moment Legolas was put down his legs were running. But unfortunately he didn't get very far. He struggled and pulled at the man's hand that still encircled his own small one. Legolas was skeptical when he picked up the sleep bottle that the nanny always gave him before bed. It wasn't time to sleep and his nanny was nowhere in sight. When the man presented him with the cup, Legolas turned up his nose and faced the other way, trying at all costs to avoid taking the sleep potion.

Seeing that he wouldn't take it willingly, the man knelt down next to the little elf and pulled him close. Wrapping his arm around the small body, he gently pinched the small nose and poured the potion into his mouth, forcing it closed so the child would have to swallow. Though the younger put up a valiant effort, his need for air soon forced him to swallow most of the drink. It didn't take long for the potion to take effect. Within a matter of minuets, the elf was sound asleep, and would most likely remain that way for a few days, considering the large dosage that the man had given him. Slinging the now unconscious form of the toddler up onto his back, the man made his way out of the window and back through the forest.

---


Almost twenty four hours after Thranduil left his hall he and a small band of elves slowly returned. They had defeated the band of orcs who had threatened their forest and their families, and now were anxious to be home. As they neared the hall, sounds of battle reached the king's delicate elven ears. Without a word Thranduil spurred his exhausted mount forward, reaching the edges of the battle that was being fought from the inside out. It didn't take long for them to destroy what remained of the men and orcs, ending the bloody battle that had threatened many lives.

Thranduil called out franticly for his wife and children, praying to the Valiar that none of them were harmed. Lenwë was the first to appear, hay and straw covered his clothing. The stable master had forced him to hide in the loft when the orcs began to invade the hall, knowing that if the future king was wounded under his watch he would never hear the end of it. Lenwë ran to his father, practically knocking him over. Thranduil hugged his son, grateful that he was safe and well. Lessien was not far behind her brother. She had been helping to usher the children out of the secret compartment below the floor when she heard her father's shout. Without a word to anyone, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her to her father, overjoyed to see that Lenwë was already with him. Hugging his daughter, Thranduil looked about for his wife and youngest son, still seeing no sign of them.

Eáránë came into the hall, following the sound of her beloved husband's voice. There was a large gash on her left cheek and she clutched her side where a knife had slipped past her defense. She made it halfway to where her family was standing before her strength gave out.

Thranduil, seeing his wife, let go of his children and hurried to meet her. He let out a cry of despair as she collapsed to the ground, shouting for a healer. He was quickly at her side cradling her light form in his arms. A healer ran to where the queen lay and quickly began to assess the damage.

"She's exhausted, my Lord. It's naught but a small side wound. I don't see any sign of poison, so I think she'll be alright... She just needs to rest." The healer quickly patched up the gash in Eáránë's side and put a small bandage on her forehead.

Covering his wife's sleeping form with his cloak, Thranduil then stood, his eyes searching for his youngest son. In the midst of all the elves running about, trying to help the wounded, and calm the grieving, he saw Náriël, Legolas's nanny. Hurrying to her, Thranduil demanded to see his son. Náriël looked at him with wide eyes as her mouth dropped open.

"I haven't seen him my Lord," she said, her voice shaking with fear.

"What do you mean you 'haven't seen him'?! He was to be in your charge!!" Thranduil roared. Leaving the elf gaping he charged through the halls to the nursery.

"Legolas? It's alright to come out now, dear heart. Ada's here. Legolas?" Thranduil looked about the nursery, despairing at what he saw. The window was broken from the outside in. There were tracks of men, one leaving the nursery through the door, the other going back out the window. After searching in all the closets and under all the furniture, Thranduil dropped to his knees in the center of the room and let out a heart wrenching cry.

Eáránë, awoken by her husband's cry soon appeared in the doorway. She took at her husband and asked, "Where is my son?"

The dried brown grass crumpled beneath the horses' hooves as they canted across the open planes. The Iron Mountains could be seen in the distance, a gray strip on the horizon. There were very few trees so far from Mirkwood, but its shadow still loomed over the planes.

Damek shifted Legolas in his arms, feeling the child waking. He knew that would have to stop soon, but decided to ride on a bit further. As they rode, Damek's thoughts wandered to his family and the young elf sitting in front of him. His wife had just lost their third child through a difficult birth. It would have been another son. The death was very hard on her and shortly before he had left, she had fallen into despair.

Hopefully this young one will ease Nadezda's heart. He is old enough for the boys to play with, and will give her someone to dote on, now that the boys have begun their training. I know she worries about them, but perhaps with someone to look after she will not worry as much.

The small band of men slowed their tiring horses, deciding to stop for the day. They would be home before the end of the next day. Silently dismounting, the men began to move about, setting up camp for the night. Everyone knew their jobs, the left their leader to his business as he gently lifted down the young elf from his saddle.

Damek lightly held the young one's hand and led him over to a spot at the edge of the camp. Sitting him down, Damek dug around in his saddle bag and produced a few wooden animals that he had brought with him from the elven hall. Handing them to the youngster, he made a hand motion, meaning for the child to stay until he returned. Damek did not speak elvish, and the young elf did not speak Common or the language of the Gramuz. Teaching him to speak properly would be a task for his wife. He heard that elves were extremely fast learners, and he prayed that this was so. He did not want to always communicate in hand motions to the young boy. Satisfied that the elfling would keep himself occupied for the short time that he would be gone, Damek turned and led his horse over to the picket line, beginning to go about the task of unpacking him.

Legolas sat on the hard ground, taking the wooden animals from the man's hands. It had been a very long trip. He had been asleep for the first three days of the journey, the sleep potion coursing through his small system. In this way he and the small band of men returning to the foothills of the Iron Mountains passed out of the Greenwood realm. Legolas had awoken in a strange place, beside a strange man on the banks of a very large river. Those first few days were the hardest, not understanding what was happening or what was being said around him. The man, who had appointed himself his keeper, was gentle for the most part. He had never raised his hand against him, nor had he yelled at him when Legolas had tried to run away those first few nights; but being lost in the wilderness, no trees in sight, Legolas soon learned that it was better to remain close to the camp. He now contented himself to play with the small handful of wooden animals that were his only remaining thing to remember his home by. When he had woken up, he was dressed in strange clothes. The man must have removed his elven clothes while he was sleeping. He now wore an overlarge shirt and a pair of pants that had had to be cut so that he was not always tripping over the long legs.

Legolas moved the carved animals about, muttering in elvish as he played. He had never been a very vocal child; there were times when some even questioned his ability to speak. But weather he spoke out loud or not, Legolas had a wonderful command of the elvish language. Pausing a moment in his play, Legolas looked closely at the wooden horse in his hand. He remembered when his Nana had given them to him.

---

"Nana! What do you have?!"

Lewnë and Lessien followed behind their mother as she carried a wooden box into the nursery. Setting it down in front of Legolas she knelt before her youngest son.

"You and Lessien will remember these; they were your favorite toys when you were Greenleaf's age."

Lenwë and Lessien gathered close to their mother and younger brother as Eáránë opened the box and gently lifted aside the white cloth. "I tavaren ínias! (The wooden animals) Grandfather made them for you when you were little!" Lessien exclaimed. Eáránë began to lift the animals out of the box, setting them on the floor in front of Legolas. Lewnë picked up the bear and handed it to his younger brother.

"Megilvorn, dilthen gwador (bear, little brother). Can you say Megilvorn (bear)?"

Legolas studied the bear in his hand then looked up at his Nana.

" Megvorlio!" he cried, quite proud of himself.

Eáránë and her two children burst out laughing.

"Not Megvorlio, Legolas, Megilvorn. Try again," Eáránë encouraged. She was still laughing but smiled down on her youngest son.

Legolas looked at the bear again then looked to Lessien.

"Megilvorn, dilthen gwador (bear, little brother). Megilvorn. Bear." Lessien pointed to the wood carving in his hand, trying to get him to say the word properly. Legolas thought hard for a moment then looked back up at his mother.

"Megilvorn?" he asked, not quite sure if he had said it right.

"Yes! That's right! Megilvorn! Wonderful Ion-nin (my son)!" Eáránë scooped up Legolas hugging him tightly. Then without warning she began to tickle him, sending him into a fit of giggles. It was long before both Lessien and Lewnë joined in and they were one big pile of giggling elves.

---

They had been traveling for two weeks, following the wide river until they reached a very large lake. The small group of travelers avoided the villages and towns that spotted the shores of Long Lake, crossing by boat at night. By the fourth night on the road, Long Lake and its towns were nothing but a memory, as the band of men began their journey across the plains. They were making exceptional time; Damek was impressed with the speed that they had crossed the open plains. Usually a trip to Esgaroth took a party three weeks. They had come even further in just two.

Finished with his horse, Damek made his way back to the spot where he left the young elf. He was going to have to think of a name for him; he simply couldn't keep calling the elfling "it". Thinking of the names that he and his wife had gone over when naming their last child, Meaglin came to his mind. It was an old name, not so often used, but still common enough in Gramuz. Having reached the spot where the young elf sat, Damek. Kneeling before the young elf, he tried his first attempt at communication.

"Meaglin, your name is Meaglin." Gently he pointed to the elf. Then pointing at himself, he said "Da. I'm your Da." He repeated this, saying the names while pointing to himself and back to the young elf. He then pointed to the young elf, asking what his name was.

Legolas was confused at first; he didn't really understand what the man was trying to do. After about the third time, Legolas understood. A bright smile came across his face, showing his understanding. When the man paused, looking at him expectantly, Legolas answered "Meaglin." Smiling up, hoping for approval.

Damek was surprised when the elfling answered back. He hadn't really expected it to work, but was very glad he had taken the time to do so. Smiling and pointing to himself, Damek asked him, "Who am I?"

Again Legolas smiled at the man, glad for approval. His brow furrowed in concentration, then looked up. "Da?" The answer was more of a question than an answer. More confident now, he answered again. "Da, Ada."

Damek smiled and scooped him up.

"There's a good lad. Come Meaglin, dinner should be ready." He carried the small elf to the center of the camp where Kulin had started a fire and had the day's catch roasting. A medium size doe had been shot down by Mirko, and it now roasted on a spit turned by Kulin. The rest of the men had spread their bedrolls out near the campfire for warmth; nights were cold out on the open plains and even colder at the foothills of the Iron Mountains.

Kulin looked up from roasting deer when Damek entered the circle of light cast by the fire. He frowned upon seeing that their leader still carried the young elf. Kulin did not approve of Damek's choice to take the elfling, spawn of those who had killed many of his kinsmen. He found the boy to be rather tiresome and nothing but a burden. Without him, they would already be home. He did not understand Damek's need to replace the child that his wife recently lost. They already had two children who were almost grown. Why add another mouth to feed and more trouble than the brat was probably worth? Prodding the roasting meat, Kulin began to shave off tender pieces, placing them on the offered plates. He then used a pointed stick to stir the ashes of the fire, rolling potatoes out, and gingerly passing them off. Though the skins were blackened, the meat of the vegetable was well cooked, having sat on the hot bed of coals all evening.

Damek brought his filled plate over to where Legolas sat, warming his feet in the fire's glow. After cooling a small section of the meat, Damek then handed the food to the young elf. Using his belt knife, Damek cut the potato into steaming chunks waiting for them to cool, for they were too hot to eat immediately. While eating a piece of the meat Damek surveyed the men sitting around the campfire. They sat eating the deer, some talking, while others sat in silence. Thirty men had left their small village of Zlobin two months ago, and now only fifteen return. The welcome would be bitter sweet.

Legolas nibbled on the meat, eyeing the sliced potatoes on Damek's plate. There were small murmurs around the campfire, but mostly everyone sat and ate silently. He looked up at Damek, then back down at the potatoes. They looked awfully good, but he wasn't going to say anything. In no time, he had finished the chunk of meat that the man had given him. Still hungry, he looked longingly at the food that was cooling on Damek's plate. His gaze then drifted to where Kulin was still sitting by the fire. The carcass of the deer was much smaller now, the men having had second helpings, there was not much meat left. With another glance at Damek, Legolas made his way over to stand next to Kulin. Looking back and forth between the meat and the man who had passed it out, Legolas held out his hand and quietly ask, "Tare, seas." (more, please)

Kulin looked up at the sound of the small voice, startled to see the young elf standing in front of him. He glared at the elf, having no clue what the child wanted, he turned back to his meal.

Legolas, thinking that the man perhaps hadn't heard him, repeated his request, a bit louder this time.

"Tare seas. Tare aes, seas." (more please. More meat please)

Kulin growled at the youngster. Couldn't he eat in peace? He didn't want to hear the babble of this filth to ruin his meal.

"Speak normal talk! I don't want to hear your devil speech!" Kulin then raised his hand and daftly back-handed the young elf, sending him sprawling.

Legolas let out a muted cry as he fell, rolling away from the fire. He clutched his cheek where a bruise was already forming from the vicious backhand. Damek stood suddenly and towered over the other man.

"Kulin! You have no right to touch him! He was simply asking for more food. Do not blame the loss of your sons on a child to young to fight back. You will take watch tonight, three shifts. Perhaps you can focus your anger on keeping the camp safe." Leaving the sputtering man behind, Damek carefully picked up the young elf and carried him over to his bedroll. Legolas sniffled, trying to suppress the sobs of fear as he clutched tightly to Damek's tunic. He didn't understand what had just happened or why he had been struck. He buried his face into Damek's shoulder, wanting protection.

Damek reached the place where he had set up their bedrolls and gently set Legolas down, sitting beside him. As soon as Damek was settled, Legolas crawled into his lap, seeking comfort, a few silvery tears still trailing down his cheeks.

"It's alright Meaglin, he won't hurt you again. You're safe now." Damek gently stroked the young elf's hair, rocking him back and forth comfortingly. Legolas sniffled, babbling in elvish as he hiccupped though his sobs. Damek caught only a few words that he recognized, mainly being Ada and Nana.

Probably his parents. Well, he will be over that soon enough. Once he meets Nadezda and the boys, he'll soon forget about those left back in the forest. He'll love having older brother to teach him...show him things...

As Damek's mind wandered to the future, Legolas fell asleep in his arms, snuggled close to the warm body.

---

Nervous snorts and shifting of feet awoke Legolas the next morning. Sometime in the night Damek had shifted him to his own bedroll and now he looked about to see what exactly had caused him to wake up. The horses, tethered at the edge of the small camp were milling about nervously. Silently, Legolas got up and padded over to where Damek's stallion stood. The great beast was known for his temper dislike of strangers, but he calmly lowered his head into the young elf's hands. Legolas could tell that something was upsetting the horses, but he was unable to tell what.

Suddenly all the horses became very still, their eyes focused to the south east. Interested in what might have caused their sudden behavior, Legolas moved so that he stood on the stallion's left side. Reaching up, he tapped the great beast's shoulder and waited as the stallion bent down. Legolas was not surprised at all that the stallion knew such a trick, all elven horses did, but he did not ponder on how such a horse came into the hands of men. Climbing onto the stallion's back, Legolas now had a much higher vintage point in which to see what had caught the horses' attention. Focusing his eyes south west, Legolas's eyes widened at what he saw. A rather large band of orcs were making their way north, towards the camp. Being so young, he couldn't tell how far away they were, but he knew why the horses had suddenly changed. The wind had shifted directions, now blowing strongly out of the south, carrying with it the ever so subtle hint of orc. The human nose probably wouldn't pick up on it, but the horses could smell them clearly, and disliked it as much as if the foul creatures were standing next to them. Legolas climbed down off the stallion's back and ran over to where Damek was still sleeping, careful to avoid the rest of the sleeping men.

"Da! Da! Túv-Glam! Túv-Glam!" Legolas shook Damek's shoulder as he tried to rouse the sleeping man.

"Megalin?..." Damek was slow to rouse from his deep sleep. Blinking the sleep from his eyes he looked up into the young elf's eyes. "Megalin, what's wrong?" He sat up, hearing urgency in his voice. The elf was clearly scared, as his eyes were big and round.

"Túv-Glam Da, Túv-Glam." This time it was more urgent, as Leglolas took Damek's hand and pulled him off in the direction of the horses.

Damek quickly pulled on his boots and followed his foster son through the sleeping camp to where the horses were tethered. The horses shifted at Damek's approach, but still kept their focus on the south west. They were shuffling their feet nervously, but other than that, Damek couldn't see anything wrong.

"What's this all about Megalin? The horses are fine."

Damek hadn't really been paying attention, his eyes skimming over his sleeping men, but when his stallion knelt down to allow the small boy to climb onto his back Damek's jaw dropped. He had acquired the stallion a few years ago on a raid against the elves when he was but a colt. Damek knew that the elves taught their horses many different tricks, but this was one that he never expected, especially from his usually hard to manage stallion.

"Túv-Glam! Da!"

The small voice brought him back to the present as he glanced up at the young elf, now standing easily on the stallion's wide back. He was easily over six feet off the ground, Damek's eyes level with ten small pink toes. He looked to the direction that Megalin was pointing, unable to see anything.

Damek looked closer and was able to see a small cloud of dust rising in the distance. Glancing back up at the young elf that stood so confidently on his stallions back, Damek moved around the horses for a better view. As he focused on just where the cloud of dust was coming from, he was able to make out a black mass moving in the camps direction.

"Danm it!"

Quickly Damek grabbed Legolas and hurried over to where their bedrolls were.

"Megalin, can you roll these up and take them over to the horses?" He had shown him how to do such a task earlier in the trip, hoping now that the youngster would comply.

A bit scared as to the sudden change in Damek's mood, Legolas nodded his head slowly, looking at him with wide eyes. When Damek gave him an encouraging smile, he then began to set to work, rolling up the blankets and padding as he had been shown.

Damek hurried about the camp, quickly rousing the sleeping men. The central fire was doused and things were quickly re-packed onto horses. The men were silent, though unsure as to the quick change of plans; they hurried to do their leader's bidding. In no time there was little evidence that fifteen men had camped there.

Legolas had carried the tightly rolled bedrolls over to where the horses were now being hastily saddled. He set the rolls down near Damek's stallion, noticing that every other man in the group gave the black beast a wide birth, and with good reason. Ears flat against his head, the stallion lashed out at anyone who came too close. Clucking to get the stallion's attention, Legolas touched his shoulder, wanting to be able to see what was going on. Obediently, the stallion knelt down, allowing the elf to scramble onto his back. Once the stallion had settled again, Legolas stood on his broad back, much like he had done moments before, looking for Damek.

Satisfied that they would be leaving soon, Damek left Mirko in charge of packing up the camp. He strode over to where his stallion, Ilya, was tied, smiling at the sight of his foster son standing on the horse's back. Quickly he picked up his saddle and bridle, brining them over and setting them down next to the bedrolls.

Legolas clapped his hands happily at the sight of Damek and quickly moved so that he was sitting across the horse's withers, a large smile across his face.

"Well done Megalin, now come down so we can get Ilya ready to leave." He lifted the young elf down, setting him beside the bedrolls. Picking up the saddle, Damek, quickly saddled the black stallion, accepting the bridle from Legolas, he lifted the small elf onto Ilya's back, handing him the two bedrolls.

As Damek bridled Ilya, Legolas quickly tied the bedrolls to the back of the saddle. Soon they were ready to ride out. Damek swung up into the saddle, behind Legolas, and urged Ilya out to the front of the group.

"A party of Uruk-hai is making their way across the plains, headed in this direction. We need to reach the village and warn them of their coming. The Gods only know what they want now." Damek addressed the small group, though his last comment was more to himself than to his fellows. Without another word, Ilya spun quickly on his heels and the small band of men mad their way quickly across the planes, heading North West into the foothills of the Iron Mountains.

A small woman bustled about the tiny kitchen putting dishes in the wooden cabinets. Her long black hair fell well below her waist, held back by a simple leather thong. Nadezda finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes that her sons had left all over the table. She smiled as she thought of how they had hurried out, eager to begin the day's training. They were growing up so fast. It seemed like only yesterday when Niklos, her youngest... Nadezda shook her head. Every time she thought of her children, she was reminded of the baby that she just lost. She had been bed bound for the past week by the village mid-wife. They had feared for her, the birth had been a difficult one. On top of twelve hours of labor, the loss of what would have been another son was extremely hard on her. Damek, her husband, had not been able to stay, having been called away by those filthy orcs. A band of orcs had entered the village the day after the death of their child, demanding a group of men to join them on their raid of the elves.

As the head of the council in the village, Damek was required to go, collecting with him somewhere around thirty other men. They rode out of the village as they had so many other times. Orcs came about once every two months demanding men for various raids. There were murmurs that the Dark Lord was gathering his forces, but they were nothing more than murmurs.

Nadezda had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when her eldest son, Dimas burst into the small house followed closely by his brother, Niklos. The boys were four years apart, Dimus was sixteen and Niklos was twelve. Both of the boys shared their mother's black hair, but had the eyes of their father. Strong green eyes, a most unusual combination but fitting for both of energetic young men.

"Da's home! They've been spotted by the sentry, but they're not alone. A band of orcs or maybe Uruk-hai are following them. Da should be here in a few minuets!" Dimas quickly told his mother. He had been worried about her since their father had left. Something wasn't quite right...he couldn't explain it, but he knew his father would be able to help her.

"Well if your father's coming you two had best get changed out of those ratty clothes!" Nadezda laughed and shooed her boys upstairs. "Be sure to wash your faces and hands! I'll not have your Da thinking I can't keep two boys somewhat clean!"

The boys laughed as they hurried up the ladder like stairs to do their mothers bidding. Glancing down at his clothing, Niklos laughed.

"Hey Di," using his nickname for his older brother, "I think Mam's right, look!" His clothes were splattered in mud and dirt and his pants were torn in a few places.

"Well your clothes are nothing to your hair Nik." Reaching over, Dimas ruffled his brother's hair. It was crusty with dirt and sweat. "We probably shouldn't have wrestled earlier... you've got a few sticks in your hair." Laughing, he pulled a small one out to prove his point.

"You're not much better. At least I don't smell like a horse, Di."

Their friendly banter was interrupted by the sound of horses entering the gaits of the village.

"You boys better hurry up; your father just came into the village!" Nadezda called up.

---

They had ridden hard and fast, covering the miles between the place where they had set up camp in a small stand of trees and the village nestled deep in the foothills of the Iron Mountains. Damek led the band of weary warriors into the center of the village where many had gathered.

There were cries of joy and many happy reunions, but there were also the heart wrenching cries of mothers unable to see their sons and wives unable to find their husbands. What should have been a joyous return was soured by the fact that they had lost half of their men in battle, the largest number of casualties yet. Damek stayed astride Ilya as he watched his men rejoin their families. He already knew which families he would need to help, the grown men in their families now gone.

Legolas sat atop Ilya with Damek, holding his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound of the mourning women. He had heard such keening maybe once or twice before and he knew that someone had died, but the combine voices of four or five women crying as their hearts broke was more than he had ever heard. He snuggled back against Damek, hoping the man could do something about the noise.

Damek, noticing his foster son's discomfort, wrapped a strong arm around him, holding him close. Looking about a smile lit his face as he saw his sons racing across the square to meet him. His wife followed not too far behind at a more subdued pace.

Quickly dismounting, Damek swept his youngest son up into an enormous bear hug, swinging him around as they laughed.

"Da! You're back! We weren't expecting you till next week!" Niklos laughed. As his father set him down he stepped aside to make room for his older brother. Diamus stepped up to his father and hugged him hard.

"It's good to have you home, da! Mam missed you." Diamus whispered the last part into his father's ear before he broke the embrace. Damek nodded in acknowledgement of the comment then turned to his wife.

"Nadezda..." Gathering her close to him, Damek swiftly kissed his wife, relishing in the feel of her small body. He had left so abruptly that he hardly had had time to say goodbye. He hated leaving her is such a fragile condition, but there was no way he could refuse to go.

Nadezda hugged her husband tightly, closing her eyes as a few tears trickled down her cheeks. It felt so good to have him wrap his arms about her once more. She was about to pull away when a small voice surprised and startled her.

"Da!"

Wide-eyed, Nadezda pulled away from her husband and looked about for the small child who had called out for their father. Damek, having just remembered that the small elf was still sitting patiently atop Ilya, reached up and brought down the elfling, settling him on his hip.

"Da!" Legolas said again, clearly wanting attention he snuggled in close to Damek, peeking out from behind his golden hair at the women who stood in shock before him.

Seeing his wife's wide eyes, Damek quickly tried to explain.

"Nadezda, I found him, all alone. The others would have killed him if I had left him there... I figured that we could..." Before Damek could finish his sentence, Niklos interrupted him.

"Do we get to keep him da? Is he gonna be our brother?" Niklos had always wanted a younger sibling, not liking being the baby of the family. Diamus quickly hit his younger brother in the back of the head.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"When are you going to learn to keep you mouth shut you big dummy?" Diamus replied. While he was talking a small giggle came from blonde haired child on their father's shoulder.

"Was that him?" Niklos asked. He moved so he could see Legolas's face.

"Hi" he said quietly, not wanting to scare the young boy. Legolas's only reply was to giggle again and turn his face into Damek's shoulder.

Diamus quickly hit his brother over the head again.

"Knock it off you oaf! Leave the poor kid alone."

Grumbling, Niklos rubbed the back of his head with one hand while he glared at his brother.

"Boys! Stop both of you. Go and take care of Ilya, both of you... I need to talk to your father." Nadezda quickly put a stop to her son's antics, sending them off to the village stable with the weary stallion.

Diamus and Niklos looked back and forth between their parents before Diamus took up Ilya's reins. Petting the stallion on the nose, he quickly sidestepped the flash of teeth, intended to bit his shoulder.

"Come on Nik; let's get this old man cleaned up." Pulling his brother along, Diamus led the tired stallion towards the stables. He kept a safe distance between himself and the grouchy stallion.

Watching his sons lead Ilya off, Damek smiled. It was so good to be home. Hearing his wife sigh, he turned back to her. Legolas tightened his arms around Damek's neck, peering curiously at Nadezda.

Without a word to her husband, Nadezda turned and headed back to the house.

What was he thinking? How could he possibly bring one of them back to the village?! What will our neighbors say? What will we do? He can't possibly expect me to care for that cute, sweet adorable... No! I will not have an elf live under my roof, not after all the grief they have caused me.... If it wasn't for them my brother and father would still be...

Her thoughts were interrupted when Damek reached out and gently touched her arm. They were standing on the small front porch of their house. Damek had set Legolas down and he now, very cautiously began to explore the clay pots and baskets sitting outside the door.

"Nadezda..." Damek began.

"Don't. I don't know what you were thinking, Damek! How could you bring one of them here? What in the world was going on in your head when you picked up that elven child?" Nadezda stormed into the house and began to prepare dinner. It seemed that she would have two more mouths to feed for dinner.

Damek glanced back at Legolas who was very content to peer through the baskets and jugs that held a variety of things from un-carded wool to rain water. Deciding that he would be alright for a few minuets, Damek followed is wife into the house.

"Nadezda, what would you have me do? If I hadn't stopped him, Alek would have killed him. He was alone and scared. Would you rather I left him there to fall under Alek's blade?" Damek came to stand behind his wife who was chopping up potatoes and carrots to add to the large pot hanging over the hearth. Wrapping his arms around her small waist, he stilled her hands, gently prying the sharp cutting knife from her fingers.

"Of course not, Damek. But did you have to bring him back with you? Surely he has family who will be looking for him, missing him. Isn't he better off with his own people?"

Before Damek could answer her, a loud screech and definite sobs came from outside. Legolas was on the steps, tears streaming down his face as he tugged at his leg, sobs escaping from his small lips. His foot was caught where the board had rotted away, making a hole just big enough for a small elfling's foot to fall through. He clearly was trying to make his way down the stairs when his foot was caught, throwing him off balance. Damek knelt carefully by his foster son, not wanting to cause him more pain as he bent to examine the situation.

"I'll be right back. I need to get some tools from my shed." With that, he hurried off around the back of the house.

Nadezda stood there for a few minuets looking at the crying elf before her heart won over her mind. Quickly she moved closer to the elf, gathering him into her arms. She whispered comforting words to him while stroking his long soft hair.

Legolas clung to the woman, whimpering in pain and fear. He babbled in elvish as tears rolled down his cheeks. The jagged edges of the broken step were digging into his leg. As Nadezda held him, she was reminded of the many times when her own children had fallen or hurt themselves. Niklos had gotten his ankle trapped between two large rocks only a few years before and it had been two days until they had found him. Her son was cold and shivering, and very frightened. Gently she held the small elf as they waited for Damek to return.

"There, there, Little One. It will be alright. He'll be right back. You must hold very still now, don't move. Everything will be aright." She rubbed his back holding him tightly. Looking up at the sound of footsteps approaching, Damek came up to kneel on the step below where Legolas had gotten his foot caught. Damek produced a small saw setting on the step next to Legolas's leg.

"Nadezda, you need to hold his leg very still." Damek then proceeded to gently prod the wood around Legolas's leg, breaking away some of the rotted wood. There were many small cuts and splinters marring his creamy soft skin. Legolas whimpered when Damek's fingers brushed against the more painful of the cuts.

"It's alright Little One. It will be over soon. I need you to hold very still for me Megalan." Damek carefully made enough room around the young elf's leg for the saw to safely pass by. Carefully he cut through the step, so that when he was finished, Legolas had a ring of wood around his ankle. Very gently, Damek broke the remaining wood from around the pale ankle.

Nadezda held the small elf gently while Damek worked. She had been whispering words of comfort in his ear when she suddenly tensed.

Megalan, that's what Damek had called him...

"There we are little one, all done." Damek smiled down at the small elf, who still had his head buried in his wife's shoulder. He was surprised to see tears in his wife's eyes. "Nadezda..."

Before her husband could finish, she quickly scooped Legolas up and carried him into the house. Holding him close, Nadezda set him gently on the table. Carefully untangling his arms from around her neck she talked quietly to him.

"Everything will be alright Little One. You need to let go now so I can fix up your ankle... Come now Megalan..." Having gently unwound his arms from about her neck, Nadezda turned to the wash bucket, wetting a corner of a clean rag. Coming back to the she gently took his ankle in her hand. Dabbing at the cuts, she cleaned them as best she could, and then turned her attention to the splinters that covered the circumference of his small leg. She looked closely at the splinters, and then gently set his leg back on the table. Reaching behind him, Nadezda picked up a sweet cake and handed it to the child.

Legolas sniffed and looked at the sweet offered to him. He looked from the cake to the woman who had been yelling at his "da". Warily he took the cake, sniffing it. A slow smile spread across his face as he recognized the smell of sugar. Nibbling at the cake, he began to smile and look around.

"Stay right there, Megalan, I'll be right back. Don't move ok?" Satisfied that the cake would keep him busy, Nadezda quickly hurried to a small stillroom in the back of the house. Upon entering the small room, she was hit with the many smells of the drying herbs hanging from the ceiling. Quickly she made her way to the small desk against one of the walls, opening the top drawer. Nadezda removed a small healer kit and returned to kitchen. She smiled upon seeing the small child sitting quietly where she had left him. He was munching on the cake contentedly as he looked wide-eyed around at the house. He turned his head to watch her approach, smiling sweetly at her with the trust of a young child.

Smiling in what she hoped was an encouraging way; Nadezda came around to stand in front of him. On the table beside the elf she spread out the healer's kit. Legolas looked down at the leather pouch with curiously until he recognized a few of the items that his sister had used to remove splinters from his finger. Quickly he began to squirm. Noticing his distress, Nadezda quickly uncorked one of the small vials and rubbed some of the liquid onto his ankle. It was a unique blend of herbs that acted as a numbing agent, quickly soothing away the pain and effetely numbing the area where the worst of the splinters were located.

Legolas's eyes widened in surprise as the small twinges of pain quickly disappeared. His sister had never used anything like that; she had simply poked and prodded at the splinters with a small needle until they had come out.

Nadezda smiled at his expression then took his ankle in her hand. Using a small needle and a pair of tweezers, she daftly removed the splinters, dabbing up the small amounts of blood with the corner of the dampened towel. She was almost finished when Damek returned from outdoors, having put his tools away and gone to fetch his sons.

Dimas and Niklos hurried into the house all smiles as they chattered away to their father. Damek followed his sons at a slightly slower pace, his saddle bags slung over his shoulders. Setting the bags down inside the door, he quickly rooted through them and produced a few of the carved wooden animals. Brining them over, he handed the horse and deer to Legolas. Comforted by the familiar animals, Legolas sat still long enough for Nadezda to quickly wrap a bandage around his ankle.

Niklos came up to stand next to his father, looking at the elven child sitting on their table.

"Is he gonna stay Mam?"

Before the words were out of his mouth, Niklos ducked the blow coming from his older brother. Dimas grinned as he younger brother quickly moved around so that he was on the opposite side of the table.

"You're getting fast Nik."

Legolas watched the two brothers interact, a small smile spreading over his face as the two older boys laughed.

"Here now, you two knock it off." Nadezda scolded the boys.

Damek laughed at his sons' antics. He walked back over to the door, bringing the saddle bags back with him. Unpacking them, he made three separate piles, setting the empty bags on the floor.

"Here now, come see what I've brought you."

"Take that off my table, I've dinner to finish if you want to eat tonight." Nadezda gathered Legolas up in her arms, quickly settling him on her hip. She turned back to the potatoes and carrots that she had been chopping before Legolas had fallen.

Dimas and Damek shared a knowing glance and scooped up two of the piles, carrying them over to the few chairs in front of the large hearth. Niklos quickly carried the last pile over to where his father and brother were spreading out the other two piles.

"Alright Dimas, that one's yours, and Niklos this one is for you." Damek pointed to the appropriate piles, watching his sons faces light up. He loved to bring them small tokens made by the elves when he went away. It made the separation easier.

Dimas slowly began to go through his pile, unwrapping it from the strange material. What had, at first appeared to be just a bit of old cloth turned out to be a beautiful elven cloak. The dark green material matched his eyes and was heavy enough that he would be very warm over the harsh winters that they experienced in the foothills.

Niklos was unwrapping his, also admiring the cloak that wrapped his presents.

"It's beautiful Da! Where'd you find it?"

"Yea Da, It's not like they would leave these things lying about."

Damek smiled at his sons. They were very curious about the elven race, having never seen a real elf until he brought Megalan home.

"Here now, you two know better than to question where presents come from!" Nadezda scolded from the kitchen.

"I swear she's got elf ears..." mumbled Niklos.

"I heard that!"

Damek and Dimas broke out in laugher at Nadezda's comment.

"Some day, little brother, you'll learn to keep your big mouth shut!" laughed Dimas.

Still laughing, Dimas began to go through the rest of the small pile that his father had set in front of him. He carefully set aside a few of the vials, knowing they contained special elven medicines that his father was always sure to pick up when ever they went on a raid. At the bottom of the pile rested a leather sheath. Slowly, Dimas picked it up, inspecting it closely. The leather was decorated with an intricate leaf and nature patter that matched the hilt of the knife. Carefully he removed the knife from its sheath. The blade was a little over a foot long, and about an inch wide. It was slightly curved, with elvish ruins etched into the blade. Dimas silently admired the beautiful blade.

"Wow, Da. I don't know what to say."

"Take good care of that blade Dimas, and I don't want to hear of you flaunting or showing it off, that is to be used for protection purposes only. If, for some reason, you lose you sword, or unable to use it, that knife is to be a last resort."

Dimas nodded solemnly, knowing that his father wasn't joking. He knew that they weren't really supposed to take things from the elves, but when the weaponry was so poor in the mannish villages, such finely crafted knifes and swords could hardly be passed up.

Niklos looked over at his brother's new dagger enviously, but as he sorted through the pile of things that his father had brought back for him he noticed something long and curved wrapped in an old cloth. Standing, he slowly began to remove the protective wrapping.

Damek turned his attention to his younger son, smiling as the boy unwrapped his gift. He knew that Niklos would love the gift. He had searched high and low as quickly as possible to try and find one that would possibly fit his young son without having the ever growing boy grow out of it too quickly.

Niklos's eyes widened as he saw that the gift was a bow. He removed the cloth even faster in anticipation and excitement. Once the bow was completely unwrapped, Niklos stared at it in his hands. His fingers gently traced the leaves that decorated it. Quickly he knelt down to his pile, searching for the coiled string he knew would be there. Finding the string, oiled and wrapped, he proceeded to string the bow. A huge smile spread across his face as he was barely able to string it.

"It's wonderful Da!"

"I thought it was about time you had a proper bow."

Nadezda smiled as she watched her husband and sons. She swayed gently as she hummed a quiet tune, rocking the elfling to sleep. His head was gently pillowed on her shoulder and his small fists clung tightly to her dress. As much as she disliked the elven race... this would work. She would make it work. Still humming she made her way to the nursery that had been set up for her own child, intending to put the young one to bed.