Title: On The Edge of Hope 0

Author: Sivan Shemesh

Beta: Manon and Space Weavil

Rating: PG-13

Warning: Character death, violence, angst, guilt. Oh… and blood.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien. I just borrowed them. Only the OC's are mine.

Spoiler: Total AU.

Summary: Estel is poisoned by an arrow that was meant for Legolas. Is there any hope that Estel will live?

Note: The twins in this story are older, but only in this story. Estel is 6 years old, while Legolas is12 years old, and only an elfling compared to the other elves.



Prince Legolas was the only heir of Thranduil, king of Mirkwood, and was the pride and joy of the king and his wife, Süitruîn.

Süitruîn. It was wrong for a prince to fall in love with a wild elf from the forest. But Thranduil had found himself falling in love with her, and kept his love a secret, knowing it would be frowned upon.

Her eyes were gray and they reminded him of the stories that his father told him, about the gray ship that had sailed to Valinor. Süitruîn's hair was black; it reminded him of a rainbow as the light played on her dark curls and cast a blue halo around her head.

King Thranduil stood by his study window, looking down at his wife and son. Süitruîn looked up and his eyes met hers. For a second he held his breath, and then they smiled at each other. His smile held pure love, love for his wife and their small elfling.

"Nana, come over here…" Legolas called to her.

Süitruîn looked at her husband. He nodded to her, and she followed her son.

Legolas was a curious elfling, and he had to know and touch everything. At the moment he was curiously running his hands along the bark of a large tree. He felt the life run from the tree into his own and he began to sing a soft melody to it.

The trees, enjoying the soft touch of the elfling and his beautiful high voice, welcomed him and began to sway their branches in time to his song.

At the same time in Thranduil's royal chamber…

A messenger arrived and stumbled into the room. He was gasping for breath; dried blood covered his chest where he had been hurt.

"What is wrong? What happened to you?" Thranduil rose from his chair and rushed over to the wounded messenger, signs of worry on his face.

The messenger could not speak.

"Breathe!" Thranduil ordered him. He was worried for the elf but needed to know what had happened as quickly as possible.

"My lord…" the messenger said breathlessly.

"Easy mellon nin, just try to catch your breath and then you may begin!"

"I was… on the way to Imladris…" he said, still gasping, and then stopped and took a deep breath before he continued.

"And?" Thranduil found himself becoming impatient.

"I soon found myself surrounded by orcs, my lord… I did not know where they had come from… I fought back, and tried to escape from them…"

Thranduil looked at him; he was still worried about his messenger who looked as pale as the undead, but orcs so close to his kingdom worried him more.

"There were a lot of orcs, my lord… they are heading for the gates my lord…" the messenger said.

"Are you telling me that we are under attack?" Thranduil asked.

"I believe that we are, my lord. I am certain that they were following me, and will attack all who get in their way, my lord,"

"I need you to do another duty, and then you are free to go to the healing room."

"What is it, your highness?" the messenger asked.

"Alert the guards, get them ready for the upcoming attack," Thranduil ordered.

"I will do it, your highness. Is there more that you need?" the messenger asked.

"Yes, find my family and get them back inside the castle safely," Thranduil answered as fear filled his heart.

End of Prologue.