Thranduil slowly walked across the battlefield. Dead orcs, goblins and trolls everywhere. He did not care about that. All that mattered were those hundreds of slain elves all over the place. It made him feel nauseous.
Legolas. Was he alright? Thranduil hurried across the battlefield, looking for those typical golden locks. While walking, he recognised more and more elves, and he couldn't hold it anymore. Very unkingly, he threw up. All of a sudden, he heard a voice. "Hir nin, are you quite alright?" Thranduil straitened himself and saw Daerdnir, one of his loyal guards look at him with eyes full of concern.
"I will survive. Have you seen my son, Legolas?"
"Yes, my lord, he was heading up that mountain, I think." he said and he pointed at the mountain where Azog had been.
Thranduil grabbed the reins of a horse that had lost his rider, and he rode swiftly towards the mountain.

A bit later, he arrived at the top of that rather small mountain, and he dismounted. To his right, he saw the elleth that had stolen his sons heart and broken it, Tauriel. She was crying over the body of a dwarf. And then, a voice he knew all too well, but had hardly ever heard that sharp snapped at him:
"How could you! You're supposed to be a good and caring king!"
"...Legolas.." Thranduil tried to interrupt, but his son, whose face was reddening with anger didn't listen.
"You led hundreds of our people to their death! And what for? Oh, yes pretty white gems!"
"Greenleaf, don't you dare talk to me like that!" Thranduil felt his legendary temper beginning to rise.
"You know what I think, adar? You're not fit to be king, all you bring is death! You're becoming an old elf and it's time you sail away! I hate you!"
Thranduils mouth slightly parted in shock, as he was searching for an answer.
Legolas did feel a bit guilty about the things he had said, mostly after seeing the look of shock and most importantly hurt in his father's icy blue eyes.
"So you think you can do better? That I'm unfit to rule?! Well, do it yourself!"
Thranduil shouts, anger and hurt getting the better of him. He grabs his royal circlet from his head in a brusque movement, making a few strands of hair fall in front of his face making him almost look like a madman, and he throws the circlet at Legolas' feet.
"I've got enough of this! I'm leaving 'Mirkwood' as they call it now, and leave it all to you, the great and wonderful Legolas. And you want to know why I did this? Why I send my army here? Because without them, the men and the dwarves would have been slain, the kingdom of Angmar would rise once more, and Greenwood would be gone for once and all!"
After that, Thranduil strides of, trying to hide the emotions racing through his body. He grabbed the horse that still stood where he left it, and rode away.

Legolas stared at the circlet on the ground. 'What have I done?' he thought. 'I hope he didn't mean that...I can't handle this kingdom, he just had to make a sacrifice to protect his people...and I insulted him and might have let him leave.'

Legolas went down and asked every elf if they had seen his father. It was as if he had vanished with the wind. The young elf looked down at the circlet in his hand and crumbled on the ground, sobbing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He kept riding, didn't look back. Betrayed by his own son... Thranduil did realise that his decision was made in a rush of anger, but that didn't matter.
Where would he go now? Greenwood had been his home for most of his life, and now, he could no longer go back. He had been riding south all the time, and only stopped when his horse almost collapsed. His horse... whose horse was this? None of the men had had a horse, because they lived in a lake, and the elves had come by foot. It was a tall, dark brown stallion, with white socks and a white blaze. And then the realization dawned upon him. He had stolen the horse from Gandalf.
He looked around where he was and saw that he was near the Celduin, which meant he had been riding for 2 days without stopping for food or sleep.
He realised he could not go on like this, and went searching for any sign of life. After an hour or so walking, he saw some smoke in the sky. He took off his armour, wrapped it up in his cloak, and he put his swords away, trying to look less intimidating. Then, he walked towards the house and knocked on the door. An old woman opened. Her eyes grew wide when she saw there stood an elf before her.
"Excuse me, milady, I have been travelling for 2 days nonstop, and I hoped to give my horse a rest and get some provisions."
The old lady began ushering him inside :" Oh you poor lad, get inside, I still have some broth left over. Imdril?" A boy came down from the stairs. "Yes grandma?" "Could you tend to the poor travellers horse?" Imdril immediately hurried away to tend to the exhausted horse, and the woman introduced herself as Alma.
That was the moment that Thranduil realised he'd need a new name. "Eh, my name is...is...Turandhil, and I'm travelling towards...Imladris."
"Well, then you will need some better travelling clothes, I might still have something left from my former husband."
Thranduil, surprised by the hospitality first wanted to say that it was unnecessary, but ended up expressing his gratitude.
Thranduil ate his broth while listening to the stories Alma and her grandchild Imdril were telling him, but after a while, exhaustion caught up on him, and he began to fall asleep. Alma carefully shook him so that he would not fall asleep and showed him to a room where he could rest. After Alma had left, he fell asleep like a block.

/He stood on top of that mountain once more and saw his son in front of him. "You're a coward, a kin slayer! You're not my ada!" Thranduil tried to interrupt him, but Legolas grabbed one of his daggers and stabbed him. Everything around him vanished and he sat alone trying to stop the bleeding. Around him, faces appeared. His father, Tauriel, elves that had died in the battle,... They came to haunt him. They stretched their arms out towards him and he screamed./

Thranduil shot up in his bed, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. Calming himself, he looked out of the window and saw the sun rising. He began dressing himself, not wearing his own tunic and boots but the ones from Alma's husband. He also took the cloak and went down.
"Are you leaving already, Turandhil?" Asked Alma, who was standing in the kitchen.
"Yes, I can't stay any longer..."
"Well then I wish you good luck on your journey, farewell."
Thranduil once more expressed his gratitude, and he saddled up his horse once more. He put the provisions he had been given in the saddlebags he had bought and rode of, towards the bridge over the Celduin. He parted on his way to Rivendell.