Thranduil was running. His arms and legs moved in harmony. He moved like an arrow from a bow, swift and sure. Flyfire galloped ahead of him. Thranduil could ride but he wanted to run. He could run forever if he wanted to; nothing could stop him. His blood raced through his veins, his heart hammered in his chest, and air burned in his lungs. He was near Rivendell, having decided to stop in for a short visit.

Suddenly an arrow whizzed past his ear. Thranduil's eyes picked out the orcs hiding in the tall grass. He did not stop to think; he unsheathed his sword and charged at the orcs, smoothly ducking the black arrows. He reached the orcs, slashing off a head as he spun. He blocked weapons with lightning fast movements, executing orc after orc. He was not enjoying the killing. He was enjoying the feeling of aliveness that burned in his body. He was enjoying the danger and the knowledge that he could die any minute. Or maybe not. He killed the last orc. Nature could bury the corpses.

Thranduil heard horse's hooves and turned around. A dozen of the Noldor elves from Rivendell rode up. Thranduil sheathed his sword and said smugly, "Sorry; you are to late. You missed the show."

The elves regarded him with amusement.

"Why, if it is not Prince Thranduil Oropherion. What are you doing so far from home?"

"I have come to see Lord Elrond and seek his advice on a small matter," Thranduil said.

"These are troubled time. Lord Elrond does not have time to help you."

Thranduil waved his hand at the dead orcs. "Perhaps that would have been so had I not already paid for his services. I have killed these foul creatures and if Lord Elrond will not take it into his heart to thank me personally, I would doubt his gratitude."

The elves grumbled among each other. In the end, they consented to take Thranduil to see Lord Elrond.

Lord Elrond was removing a message from the harness on the back of a messenger hawk. He read it, laid it aside, and turned to Thranduil.

"I need a messenger hawk," Thranduil said. "And I know you have some of the best."

"Indeed," said Elrond. "To what purpose do you intent to use the messenger hawk?"

"I am going to be traveling far and wide," Thranduil said with an easy shrug. "Means of communication are essential. I am quite willing to pay you for the bird." His voice held distaste at the thought of selling animals.

Elrond considered. "I see. You do, of course, know that your father has sent these all over Middle Earth by now?" He handed the scroll from the messenger hawk to Thranduil. If he was hoping for a serious response, he was disappointed.

Thranduil chuckled with amusement as he read the scroll. "Ah, ada, your mind is full of dirty tricks! I suppose, Lord Elrond, that you will not be able to help me. I will leave at once."

The scroll was a Wanted poster that read simply:

WANTED: Alive Thranduil Oropherion. The royal Prince of Greenwood the Great has run away from home due to temporary insanity resulting from the unfortunate misuse of a potion. Anyone who can bring news of the Prince to King Oropher will be rewarded. Anyone bringing the Prince back home will be rewarded HANDSOMELY.

"I am unconvinced of your sanity," Elrond said.

"If you want to put me in your healing wing and fill me up with herbal remedies, you will be sadly disappointed," Thranduil said. "You only have my word for it that King Oropher is artistically lying."

In his mind, Thranduil sighed. His life had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. But what else could have happened? Oropher was bound to do something!

"Yes, I do. And I do not believe you. Guards!"

At Elrond's cry, Thranduil frowned. So the half-elf was serious and he was going to try to "cure" his apparent insanity.

"Farewell," said Thranduil with a wave. "I will try not to injure to many people on my way out."

He broke through the approaching guards and fled down the passageway. The passageway ended in a domed room overlooking the valley. There were no walls; the room was an open gazebo set in the cliff side. The guards were coming behind him. Elrond was at there head.

"Thranduil, stop. This will be easier if you cooperate."

"You are said to be wise, Elrond," Thranduil said. "I begin to doubt your wisdom."

"You have nowhere to go," Elrond said. "Be sensible. Running away from home has caused your father worry and your mother heartbreak. Go back."

"After 4,0000 years, I am entitled to a little freedom," Thranduil said. "I will be a slave no longer! And you are wrong. I have a place to go. I can jump."

"Thranduil, NO!"

Thranduil jumped. He grabbed his braid of hair and spun it above his head. At the right moment, he let the braid fly. It flew upward, lassoing a rock on the opposite cliff side. Thranduil flew through the air, landing with his feet on the rocks. He began to climb with the aid of his rope of hair up the cliff. At the top, he came out on a path that led out of the valley into the plains. He yelled for Flyfire and ran.

"Valar, he has gone crazy," Elrond said. "Lay off trying to catch him; he is long gone."

Thranduil burst out into the plains. Flyfire came galloping to meet him. As he was about to mount, a weak squawk attracted his attention. It was a messenger hawk lying in the grass with an injured wing. Thranduil picked up the bird. It was she with brilliant yellow eyes. He sat down and tended to her wing. It appeared to be broken. As he rose to his feet, a voice behind him spoke and Thranduil whirled around. It was Elrond!

"I thought about what you said," Elrond said. "And I have some advice for you. Ride for Rohan. There is someone there I think you should meet. His name is Ciran Greenwood."

"Is he an elf?"

"Yes. And he to is a runaway Prince."

Thranduil mounted Flyfire, placing the hawk on the moose's antlers. She perched there, keeping her balance with her one good wing. Thranduil nodded to Elrond. "Hannon le. My opinion of you has changed. Perhaps you are wise. Farewell."

And Thranduil rode for Rohan, full of curiosity about Ciran Greenwood.

Any thoughts or suggestions are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!