Last Hope

"You are to leave then."

The quietly spoken words, uttered in a controlled, monotonous voice, struck deep into Legolas' heart. He raised his head from staring into the searing heat of the fire, saw his father was still standing motionless with his back to him, then looked away again. A deep crevice fractured in his chest. He kept looking into the flames, though they burned his eyes.

"Yes," he whispered.

"And nothing I can say to you can change your mind."

"No." He paused, feeling that his answer had been too blunt. But it was the painful truth and this room, this heavy atmosphere pressing down relentlessly on top of him, the dreadful silence but for the crackling and clicking of the logs in the fire, was not making it any easier. He wished he was still a little elfling huddling before the warmth in the depths of bitter winter, clutching onto his father's long robes. Before any of this had mattered.

He shook his head to rid the memory and wrung his hands, if only to give him something else to concentrate on. "It is something I - it is something I feel I have to do."

A small sigh came from Thranduil. He finally moved, boots brushing against the stone floor, and disappeared behind Legolas' chair. He could not bear to watch him. "I have heard those words once before," he said. "Yet it was an age ago and it was I who said them." He paused and part of Legolas wished he would not go on. This was harder than he had ever imagined it would be. Even after so many years of watching time trickle away outside the boundaries of the realm. Even after so many years of confinement. This was not how he wanted to spend his final night in Mirkwood -

Thranduil broke into Legolas' troubled reveries, his thick, low voice reverberating through him. "I said them to my own father," he continued. "And he laughed as I said them, told me that I was far too young to be saying such serious things. But then we went to war. And it does not matter how young or old you are when you -"

The words faded, consumed by the deathly stillness in the room. Legolas tried to block out the sound of his father's long, shuddering breath, a moment of fragile weakness. "Adar -" he attempted to say, but it got stuck in his throat. He was glad for the sudden sound of objects being moved behind him.

"Before we left, however, he gave me something," he began again. "I don't know what I would have done without it. It was my saviour on many occasions. Yet I do not need it now. If this quest is what you have set your heart and mind upon, I wish for you to have it."

Legolas continued to stare into the fire, telling himself that was what was making his eyes water as his father came back around to his front. He did not look away until he had to, until Thranduil stood above him expectantly, waiting in silence. Then he slowly raised his head, calculating every movement so the glass inside him would not shatter and break. Even now, he did not look into his father's eyes but at the objects he held in his hands. One was a beautiful carven bow, lightweight and practical but obviously of the most superior elven quality. The other was an intricately decorated quiver, filled with many fine arrows. At any other occasion, he would have accepted them with appreciative grace but now he merely took them and put them by his side, muttering a quiet thank you, so small he wondered if his father had even heard.

Yet Thranduil continued to stand over him like a watchful guardian. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see him twisting and squeezing his hands as they trembled and shook so obviously. He cleared his throat, the sound echoing painfully. "I-" he started meagrely. For such a usually eloquent king, it was the first time Legolas had ever seen him choking on his words. He kept his head bowed to avoid the look in his eyes, and to hide his own. "Legolas," he tried again. "I never meant to cage you."

Legolas shook his head, though wasn't sure why; to deny him, to agree with him, to tell him not to continue... He realised, in this heady confusion, that he was not breathing properly. He just wanted to leave, get this over with. But his father was standing between him and the door. He always had been.

"I never meant for you to feel like a prisoner, Legolas," he said carefully, laboriously. "I never meant to make you feel like you were trapped. But - I have had a long life, Legolas. And by shutting the gates and closing the borders, it not only keeps us in but it keeps some things out." Thranduil's voice shuddered, slipping out of his control. Legolas pretended not to hear it. "I only wished to keep you safe. Because I would not wish what I have seen and experienced upon -"

Thranduil abandoned his words and turned away in a swift, sweeping motion. One hand reached to steady himself on the mantelpiece above the fire and the other he drew to his face, pressing it to his eyes. Legolas finally looked up, suddenly feeling like a small child who had disappointed his only parent. He tried to speak yet nothing came out but a desperate sob. The glass inside of him started to splinter.

An overwhelming urge to run to his father washed onto him but Thranduil waved an arm and he stayed where he was. He was not sure if his legs would have worked for him anyway.

Gradually, Thranduil turned back to him and Legolas stared into his helpless, mournful face as he struggled desperately to hold himself together. He came before him again and slowly sank to his knees. His hands reached out and touched Legolas', clutching them until his own trembles wracked through his son. "I have not felt much joy in my life," he whispered and his eyes glistened in the unforgiving fire light. "Not for a very long time. But when I first saw you and looked into your face, your innocence made me forget everything that had happened before, as if part of you became bound to me. You gave me hope. Yet then - then this darkness came again and I...I could not, did not want to believe -" Thranduil bowed his head. Legolas felt him shake as he strove to hide his tears from him. His voice was broken beyond repair when he continued to speak.

"My realm is littered with graves. My father, my wife, countless good elves have been lost before me. Please -" He sobbed, and his grip was painful on Legolas' hands. "Please, do not make me dig your grave. You are all I have left. You are my final hope..."

Legolas' heart was punctured by these words. He sat motionless, rendered immobile by their impact, and felt his throat constrict around his pounding pulse. It took a great struggle to stay together as his father raised his head and through his tears, his shining, imploring eyes burnt into him. "Promise me," he whispered. "Promise me that you will return."

The way it was said was enough to make Legolas believe that if he did not maintain the vow, Thranduil would simply wither away and fade. He looked down, averting his gaze. This responsibility was too much... He could not utter a thing.

"Legolas." His father's hand gently came to touch his cheek. It trembled incessantly before resting upon his cold skin. "Please."

"I cannot -" The cracked words threatened to bring the first tears from his eyes. What had he done to himself, to his ada, by going on this doomed quest? He would bring nothing but despair, nothing but a father wearing mournful black. He had severed himself from his whole world, torn himself away when he most needed a companion. He would be alone for the first time in his life.

"I'm sorry -" he found himself muttering. "I'm so sorry, ada... I did not mean to disappoint you... I never wanted -"

He felt Thranduil's hand slip from his face and wanted to rush from the room to escape his presence. His father was tearing him slowly apart and he could not bear to look as he did the same to him. But his grip stayed firm against him, holding him down. "No," he muttered. "No, you could never disappoint me. You will never disappoint me, iôn-nîn. Not as long as I live."

Legolas could not hold back his tears anymore as his father abruptly pulled him into a tight, crushing embrace. He buried his face into his chest like a child and sobbed just as much, struggling to breathe in the intensity. Thranduil cradled the back of his head, clutching him fiercely, possessively, lovingly, and all the affection that he had not outwardly shown to him spilt unceasingly out. "My treasure," he whispered reverently, over and over. "My beautiful treasure, do you know how much I love you... Do you know how much light you have brought to me..."

Legolas did not know how to respond to such things, other than to cry into his father's strong shoulder. Never had Thranduil spoken to him like this, never had he taken him in his arms and held him so very tightly... He wanted to stay there forever with no one else around. He did not need anyone else. Others would bring darkness with them, others would break the safe boundaries of his father's realm.

He understood now, understood why he had taken such actions. The world had been cruel to him. And now it would be cruel to his son, no matter how much he had tried to stop it.

"My dearest treasure," he murmured over his burdened thoughts. "I wish for this to be over one day... So you can live in the way that I felt when I first saw you."

Thranduil's words soon became a steady stream of broken adorations as they sat there, maybe for hours, clasped in each other's arms. He listened to him with a fractured heart and by the time he had finished and the tears had run dry from his eyes, he was exhausted. He found he could barely raise his head, and more so than ever, his whole body ached from torturous shivering. Gently, Thranduil stroked his back and had to take great care not to hurt him as he slowly disentangled them. He took a deep breath and attempted to straighten his back as his father rose, a composed king again, up to his wavering feet. A trembling hand wiped the last of his tears away. He cleared his parched throat.

"Adar," he rasped. Though his eyes were sore, he lifted them above the firelight to look sincerely upon his father's face. "Adar, I promise to you I will return. I swear it. I shall not leave you."

A hint of a smile touched the corners of Thranduil's lips. He lowered his head in respect, a gesture so noble and grateful that Legolas' heart swelled unimaginably. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you."

When the words faded, the room returned to the deep silence of when Legolas had first entered, yet now the weight had been lifted and the crackling of the fire brought nothing more than stillness to his heart. He breathed more easily and was able to look at his father without his whole soul feeling as though it might break irreparably. Thranduil was about to leave. He rose from his chair to stop him.

"Ada," he said gently. "Please, do not leave yet."

The hint of a smile was still on Thranduil's face as he slowly turned and walked back to his son's side. He reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder comfortingly. "What do you wish, iôn?"

Legolas drew out a small smile in return. "Sit with me as we used to," he said.

Thranduil nodded. "Of course."

It did not take long for them to become settled before the glow of the fire, Legolas' head nestled against his father's neck as in the days of his youth. He tried not to think of the coming day as Thranduil pressed him close and singing softly to him, bundled him in the comfort of his warm robes. It felt like the days of the long winters again when they used to sit, father and son, away from the cares of the rest of the world, only bothering about the chill and nothing more. Such a long while ago, an unreachable, foreign time. Maybe one day they could return.

But for that night, it was in the haven of his father's arms, a bittersweet memory, that he found his last rest in a long while, with a smile on his face.

-END-

ah gosh sorry about the cheap ending xD but I just wanted them to have a happy moment as on a scale of 1 to 10, Thranduil's story (especially with Legolas) breaks my heart at about a 15!

Disclaimer: as always, I don't own the characters, just playing around with them!

reviews always appreciated, I love you all c: x