p style="text-align: left;"The Elvenking walked on silent feet through the cavernous halls of his fortress and palace. Of late his kingdom had seemed emptier, likely due to the fact that many elvish lives had been lost in the War of the Ring. The loss struck the King soundly, but as was his wont he buried the feelings deep within where they could never be seen. He had come to know much of loss in his long life, too much of it truthfully, and thus he sought now to avoid the memories that brought only pain with them. Still, for one who walked the Elvenking's Halls alone there was little else one could do but dwell on memories. The etched wood beneath his feet was, itself, steeped in the history and tales of his people. So as the memories pushed themselves onto him, whether he willed it or no, Thranduil's ice-blue eyes grew distant and faintly mournful. First had come the loss of his wife... but no, that above all things he could not think on, and quickly Thranduil grasped at another memory, anything else but that, and landed squarely on the moment when Legolas had said he could not return to the Woodland Realm with his father after the Battle of the Five /br /It had been in that moment, when Thranduil had realized that he had driven even his own son away, that the ice which had encased his heart for so long began to crack. The words he had said to Legolas, about his mother loving him more than life itself, had held much more meaning than Legolas would ever understand... and yet, for all of that, for all that it meant to tell his son that much, Thranduil had still let him leave without a word of protest or a single clear declaration of the love he himself felt for his son. After their parting the Elvenking had done his best to keep abreast of his son's movements, yet when the forces of Sauron had converged on Mikrwood from Dol Guldur, the ensuing Battle Under Trees had ended in Thranduil losing track of his son. Now the king did not know whether his son lived or died, and it seemed that once more a mighty blow had been felled against the /br /The ultimate victory of the Woodland Realm in the Battle Under Trees had resulted in Thranduil's territory being stretched to cover all of the northern part of Eryn Lasgalen, Mirkwood re-named as the Wood of Greenleaves, and all the way to the mountains. Yet this seemed a poor consolation prize when faced with the death of so many of his people, and worse, the utter uncertainty which now surrounded the status of his son. Did Legolas live? Had he been slain in his noble pursuit of protecting the ringbearer? Was he lying somewhere now, hurt and alone, with none to care for him and hope far from him? All of these possibilities swirled constantly in Thranduil's mind, and it stood to drive him mad if he could not control his /br /Around him the mighty stone pillars, carved from living rock, seemed to hum with a vibrance and life that Thranduil had felt was leaving him. Though immortal his spirit had suffered too much it seemed, and Thranduil began to feel old in a way he had never understood before. Still, he was king of the Woodland Realm, and there were many who depended on his leadership. As king he had no choice but to lift his head and carry on, letting nothing show of the suffering he felt within. The ice around his heart must be repaired and frozen once more, better to be cold and unyielding than burning in anguish and /br /Abruptly the quiet peace of the Halls was interrupted as one of his guards came racing on silent feet to his king, falling onto his knees before Thranduil with discernible excitement shivering around him. "My King!" The elf gasped, brazenly lifting his eyes to meet Thranduil's, courtly manner forgotten in anticipation of whatever announcement he had to make. Frankly Thranduil could not fathom what news could possibly give rise to such energy, what was left to cause such joy?br /br /Clasping his hands gracefully behind his back, Thranduil quirked a single brow and looked down at the guard. "Speak. What news do you bring to me that is worth such unseemly behaviour." He queried coolly, eyes glinting in satisfaction at the brief look of embarrassment which crossed the other elf's face. Ordinarily Thranduil would not have been so intolerant, but in this moment he was feeling neither benevolent or /br /"Forgive me my King." The elf said, lowering his eyes respectfully once more. "In my joy I forgot myself, but sire..." The guard once more seemed to lose grasp of etiquette and looked up at Thranduil. "Prince Legolas has returned."br /br /For a moment there was only silence. Thranduil stared down at the guard, an unfathomable expression on his countenance. He did not know how to take this news. For so long he had wondered after his son, believing at last that they would never again meet in this life. To now hear that his son was not merely alive but returning to Eryn Lasgalen... it was more than Thranduil could /br /"Bring him to me when he arrives." Thranduil breathed, feeling like weeping as another crack in the ice encasing his heart was /br /"As you command sire." The guard said, springing gracefully to his feet and whirling to leave, pausing only briefly to add. "And the Lady Tauriel accompanies Legolas as well."br /br /"Bring them both to me." Was all that Thranduil could manage before he felt his strength give way entirely, and despite the fact that his guard still watched him Thranduil was powerless to do anything but sink to the ground, his robe billowing about him as his palms rested against the ground, head hanging towards the glossy floor, his eyes glazed /br /His son was returned to him./p
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