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a/n: Set sort of post the third Hobbit movie. It was said that Thranduil and Legolas made up after the events of the trilogy and well, Legolas is a lot happier and more compassionate in the LotR trilogy so I'm just filling in the blanks with my own headcanons. I hope you all enjoy.
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It had been six weeks.
Six weeks was usually like a minute and a half to an elf, but now time dragged on for Legolas. He felt more weary than ever, and most of that was the mental exhaustion of the days before leaving the Mirkwood. He missed everyone there, despite the fact that he knew he needed to leave, and already desired turning around and going home.
He wondered how Tauriel was, if his father had lifted her banishment and allowed her to return home. He wondered how she was faring, if at all.
Loss was never easy. And rare to elves. Because death was unusual to them. It happened, but when it did, the fallout was absolutely wretched.
His father was a living example of that.
Legolas had been a mere mortal's age when battle had taken his mother in Gundabad. He could barely remember his life then, only a few flashes here and there flitting in and out of his dreams, and those were sparse too. But his father remembered everything. Every little bit of the queen Aindrila and he kept every memory for himself.
He had a hard time not hating his father for that. He supposes he should be grateful for the small bit the king had given him before he left but it wasn't enough.
Was it possible to miss someone you didn't even remember? He wonders if that is so. It must be because when he thought of his mother, there was an ache deep in the pit of his soul that never went away.
Legolas wondered if he ever knew about his mother, anything at all, maybe that ache would ease. He wanted to know if he looked like her, if he acted like her. Was she an archer or did she prefer the sword? Did she enjoy wearing long beautiful gowns or prefer the traditional military garb like Tauriel did?
His travels carry on. He carries himself towards the North, just like the king had told him too, to find that ranger. Strider was his name, at least, the name that he was called. The son of Arathorn though, he knew that this man must be a fair one if his own father spoke so highly of him.
He never quite makes it.
-;
He stops at a small town to rest for a few hours and restock his supplies. He didn't need much to survive on his travels, mere small portions of food being enough to keep him sated for hours. Sleep was sparse too, and he preferred that because he could travel great distances without having to stop for very long. The miles he had taken in just six weeks would have taken an ordinary Man months to cover.
He uses ordinary gold to pay for his things at the small shop and heads back out of town, his bow secure on his back. The air is turning a little colder, which he notes by the sharp bites on his skin despite being unbothered. The lands are still green, with bits of color touching the trees like a painting. He supposes it's beautiful, something he would have appreciated long ago but now, now he couldn't really care less.
Night falls and passes within a mere moment. He rises again after settling by a small fire deep within the wood, kicking dirt over the flames before carrying on. A rabbit skitters across his path, tail large and puffed up, the last thing he sees as the creature disappears into the grass.
More animals are coming. Legolas falls to a stop and watches as the deer and the birds pass by him like he's not even there, heading straight to what seems to be an opening to the wood. He has no choice but to follow, his curiosity brimming to the surface. A tall buck nearly shoves him out of the way in it's haste to go where everyone else is going and so he continues to follow.
He ends up in a clearing, but it's unlike any ordinary clearing. He stands on the top of a hill, and the green and gold stretches out for miles. He blinks at it's beauty, the whisper of a smile pulling his lips up as the animals run down the hill towards – something.
Legolas draws his bow, notching an arrow. He moves down the hill with the pace of a young foal and approaches what he perceives is a small ball of light. The animals are gathered around it, a few rabbits and squirrels stretching up on their back legs to breathe it in, to touch it with their pink noses. He stays back a bit, examining the glow as it continues to rise up out of the earth and spread far and wide.
And then it takes him in before he can even utter a word.
-;
He's so warm, so comfortable.
This must be what rest is like for mortal men. He likes this, he likes being carried on the wind.
Legolas.
He tries to turn in the air, hair falling down over his face.
Legolas.
No. No, leave him be. He wants to rest.
Legolas.
Please.
What is your deepest desire, Legolas?
His deepest desire...he doesn't really know what that could be. Peace for Mirkwood. His father to be safe...to know his mother.
He didn't even know what she looked like.
Legolas.
Leave him alone. Just leave him alone.
The light drops him and his back hits the ground with a painful thud. Legolas's eyes shoot open and for a moment all he can see is sky and concentrate on the screeching of his spinal cord. Legolas gasps out a cry, and he stares up at the sky, listening to the thumping of the retreating footsteps of all the animals. A few leap right over him too, blocking out the sun for just a moment.
The pain ebbs away but he's still grunting when he climbs to his feet. He should send notice back to Mirkwood, there was rogue magic here in the Woodland Realm and the king should know about it.
The thought fades away as soon as his eyes see her.
The animals are still scampering off, the shimmering light having disappeared into nothingness. Legolas' eyes adjust to the green around him, but now he sees that he's not alone on the rolling pastures of emerald.
A woman stands about three hundred yards away, dressed in what seemed to be a tattered warrior's garb. Her blond hair strews down her back in a mussed braid and from what he can see, there are fading bruises on her face. Her gaze swivels around to meet his and he sees his own eyes looking back at him.
His heart stops in his chest.
No. No, it wasn't possible.
This kind of magic didn't exist. Did it?
He takes a few tottery steps, feeling very much like a young elfling. The woman does the same and she does fall to the ground. His pace increases, becoming more steadily in his haste to get to her. She rises up with the same grace, the bruises on her face completely gone and replaced by a faint hint of blush to show the blood pulsing underneath her skin. As he gets closer, he can make out the beats of her steady heart and oh heavens...
"Mother?"
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Aindrila is the Hindu name for 'Female Star' and well Thranduil never shut up about 'Starlight' so I thought, what the hey?
If you would like me to continue please leave reviews and tell me what you thought.