Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, a tribute to the Lord of the Rings. I acknowledge I have no rights of ownership to the characters or the settings and that I only own my original content and interpretations.
'One day, you will disappoint me, for that is the way of things; sons disappoint their fathers. And fathers disappoint their sons, also, and so the day will come when you realise that, while you cannot criticise your king, you can, and will, find fault with your father.'
The three elves looked at each other. Their father did this sometimes, reminding them that nobody was perfect, neither he nor they. The lecture usually came after one of them had done something worthy of approval. Or disapproval, and that happened more often.
'But today you have not disappointed me. Today I hear that all three of you have, instead, achieved deeds of note. Legolas' skill with the bow increases; he outmatched even the tutors today, so I hear. Tharmeduil has completed his current tour of duty with our patrols successfully, and Iauron has told me there is a lady with whom he would be happy to make alliance.'
At Tharmeduil's side, Iauron seemed to sag around the shoulders. With relief, Legolas assumed. Iauron was the oldest, and although any of the three could one day rule after Thranduil, preference would be given to the one who could ensure the succession. Besides, Iauron wanted it most, whereas Legolas didn't want it at all.
'This news pleases me,' Thranduil went on, 'both as a father and a king. Iauron, we will make arrangements to send a delegation to solicit the lady's interest through her parents. You may go. You, also, Tharmeduil. Legolas, I would like to speak with you privately…'
Thranduil turned his back on his three sons as he mounted the steps up to his throne, allowing time for the older two to withdraw. Allowing time for Legolas to compose himself and conquer the dread Thranduil knew would be racing in his heart.
Of them all, Legolas was most like him. Perhaps that was why he found it difficult not to be so harsh with his youngest child.
And yet he delighted in his sons. Years past, he had played with them and laughed with them, carried them on his hip and set them before him on his steed, each in their turn, had cherished every moment of their growth from infanthood through childhood. But as they grew, so his relationship with them had to change. He was their loving father, yes. But he was also their king, and so, these days, it was rare that they saw him without his regal impassivity in place. He felt a pang of loss; Legolas had been such a happy child and now he was a young adult who smiled, but rarely laughed.
Thranduil wondered, feared, whether that was his fault.
By the time he turned to take his seat on the throne, he had composed himself into his formal expression. He crossed one knee over the other and beckoned briskly, not looking at his son as he did so.
'Legolas, approach.'
Legolas climbed the steps warily, coming to a halt on the platform below the dais of the throne. His eyes would be level with his father's chest, should he look up. At present, however, fearing the topic of this conversation, he had no wish to do so.
'Legolas.'
His father's voice drew his attention and he could no longer avoid the eye contact. Did his father know? But then, why not say something in front of the others, for this would surely be counted as a disappointment if he were to be found out…
'My lord?'
'What do you know about Iauron's new-found love?'
Legolas caught his breath. Such a relief! He tried to answer with composure, delivering the information as if it were a report.
'She is of the Imladris families. I am not entirely certain how they came to meet, and I do not know her myself. That she is more to him than just an adventure I had not known, either, but he has been saying for some months now that it was time he made a commitment to the future of the kingdom. Tharmeduil thought Iauron meant adding more weapons training to his routine, but…'
'Imladris? Well, it could be worse, I suppose. Enough. On the subject of adventures…'
'Yes, lord?' This was it; his father was about to launch into a stream of invective on the topic of his behaviour and tastes and he really, really did not want to have to explain…
'I hear there was an incident in Lake Town… at one of the… hostelries…'
'Yes, lord?'
'Indeed, and it would bode well for you were you to warn your brothers that while I have no objections to them dissipating their energies at such places, it is of paramount importance that no stain of shame be brought back to the Kingdom. This time we have managed to ah… suitably recompense the young – I hesitate to say 'lady' – in question, but this house cannot be forever smoothing over such behaviour.'
'I'll pass the message on, lord.'
'Good. I note with some interest that you were not part of these… festivities.'
'No, lord, I had… other business…' Legolas swallowed, hoping he wasn't going to be asked what that business might be.
'Legolas.' Thranduil rose from his seat and joined his son, the mask of impassivity vanishing so that by the time he was near enough to lay his hand lightly on Legolas' shoulder, the king had retreated entirely and the father alone stood there. 'As your king, I have a responsibility towards the populace to ensure they do not lose faith in our leadership. As your father, all I want is for you to be happy. And if you do not join in your brothers' brothel parties, I admit to a certain relief. But I cannot shake the notion that you did not stay away simply because you wished to undertake further weapons practice…'
'I'm not over-fond of… brothels,' Legolas said, and edge of desperation to his voice.
'I'm pleased to hear it,' Thranduil said. 'One can pick up all manner of infection from such places! 'All I ask, my son, is that you are discreet. Choose your companion wisely.'
'Father, I…'
'There are many of our kindred in Middle-Earth who are alone. Their spouses are dead, or have sailed west and so the marriage has ended. Such a one, a more mature person, would make an admirable and unexceptional partner. With experience comes subtlety and discretion, and you need not fear exposure from an older lover.' Thranduil gave the smallest of shrugs and smiled at his son's astonishment. 'Just be happy, Legolas. Find joy in the physical expression of affection.'
Legolas shook his head, wanting to deny the things his father was hinting, knowing that to do so would be a lie and that such dishonesty was not in his nature. He had been expecting censure and fury when his weakness was discovered, not advice and kindness.
'Thank you!' he said, finally, and Thranduil pulled him in for a swift, fierce hug. For as long as it lasted, Legolas felt loved and valued and cherished, and then it was over, his father was turning to seat himself on the throne once more.
For the briefest of moments, his eyes were warm. And then the king's mask descended once more.
'I would like you to join the next patrol against the arachnids, Legolas,' Thranduil said. 'See the commander and ask for an archer's rank; I don't want you pushed into leading yet just because you are the king's son. I'd prefer you to have a little more open hand work first.
'Yes, Sire.'
Legolas ran down the steps, his heart lighter than it had been in days, and the king watched him go with fatherly pride.
