Hey! Welcome at this story! Some things you might wanna know:
- it's gonna be a short fic, two chapters I would think (may be three, but probably not)
- translations of elvish can be found directly behind the elvish sentence, not at the bottom of the page
- Ynnealay pointed this out for me, so she is much appreciated! :) Apparently, Tolkien once wrote in 'Morgoth's Ring' that 20 Human years = 50 elvish years. This would make Legolas 40 years old. Since this is far younger than most fics and the movies make up, I altered it a little. The ratio is now 20/500. In this story, Legolas is 400 years old, which would be the equivalent of a 16-year-old human. Estel is not even one year old here.
BETA: thewayfaringstrangers
Amberly Eldin: Thank YOU for your reviews :) Hope this is also of your liking :)
angelfabeth: Thank you for all your reviews :) You really gave me a boost to write! :)
Arwenia: Glad you stay here! :) Thank you! You made me blush! :) I just put one word behind the other, but I glad you liked it :)
Clavina: And may they be in yours! :) *bows*
Erynel: Thank you very very much :) I'm so glad you liked it!
Ink Mage: Well, yes, I had to keep the end open for future sequels :)
Luka'sBlade: Well... perhaps it is not. After I've seen te second movie, I'll decide :)
Melanie: Perhaps this can sooth the pain a bit? :P
Muirgheal-of-Lantern-Waste: I loved your review! :) And I liked that little fact :) Do you have other ones? :P
Pie in the Face: Yeah, now that you say it... but as I said to someone else, they entered Panem mysteriously, so they had to leave it in the same fashion, or the realistic effect would be blown up :P Thank you! :)
Pipking in the Grass: You're more than welcome here :) What does Pipkin mean actually?
TheButterflyCurse996: Haha, your presence is just a constante :) I love it! :)
Ynnealay: Thank you for your review :) I sent you a pm :)
It was a sad sight Elrond saw when he opened the door.
A lone elf was sitting dangerously far out on the open balcony, his feet dangling meters above the ground. He was staring straight before him. It seemed he wasn't even aware of the Elf-Lord, standing in the entrance of his room.
In fact, it seemed as if he wasn't aware of anything. Not of few birds that were hopping next to him to cheer him up with their songs; nor of the trees that were extending their branched in a consolatory gesture; or of the rain that was soaking his clothes and golden hair, dripping down from his face and mingling with his silent tears. He just sat there, as he had done from the moment he had arrived, refusing to eat or to speak.
Elrond kept on standing there for a few more minutes, hoping that, perhaps, the elf would acknowledge his presence. But it was vain hope, and he knew it. The prince hadn't talked for nearly overa week. There was no reason why he should break the silence now.
But he had to break free of the grief some time.
The elf-lord sighed.
"Legolas?" The elf didn't even move.
"I brought you some food. I can understand that you're not very hungry, but you have to eat something."
Slowly, Elrond stepped into the dark room. No candles were lit to expel the night, and most of the curtains were closed, except for the one that lead to the balcony. The darkness made it more difficult to see the things that littered on the floor and everywhere else. A cloak was thrown onto a chair, but had slid off. Debris from a thrown vase was scattered all over the floor. A mirror on the wall too, was broken. Only the bed remained untouched, although some packets had been tossed upon it. He should have servants cleaning up this room tomorrow.
Elrond shook his head, but he didn't comment on the ruins of one of his best rooms. Instead, he lowered the cup he was holding a little so that Legolas could easily see it –if he would only turn his head.
"It's a very light soup, penneth, so don't tell me you're not hungry. The cook assured me that one could eat this even after he had gone to a festivity of the Periannath. You do remember the Periannath, don't you? Mithrandir surely told you about them." Legolas' face remained blank, but when Elrond held the cup nearer to him, a pale hand listlessly pushed it away. The elf-lord frowned.
"Tithen pen, you have to eat something." He came closer again, but then he changed his mind. It was no use forcing him to take the cup. This lethargy was only a symptom of his mental wounds. And as a healer, Elrond knew he had to treat the source of the pain, not the side effects. So he just put aside the cup and sat down next to Legolas.
"Penneth…" he sighed, full of pity and pain that this young one had to suffer so. Carefully, he laid his hand on Legolas' shoulder and pulled him closer, until the golden head was resting against his shoulder. The prince did not resist, but neither did he relax or nestle deeper in Elrond's clothes. He was like a doll, lifeless and empty.
"Your father has told me what happened." Legolas cringed, but did not pull away or say anything.
"It was not your fault, Legolas. There was nothing you could have done."
"You don't know that." His once fair voice was so quiet and hoarse that Elrond could barely understand him, but the words were there, and even though they were pained and full of remorse and bitter anger, they filled Elrond's heart with joy. But he could not show it.
"You cannot take the weight of the world on your shoulders, tithen pen. Through every living creature, every occurrence, Illuvatar's song is flowing. Some things are just meant to be, Legolas, lest other things that should have happened could not happen, and chaos would erupt."
"So my mother had to die? Is that what you say?" His voice was now completely drained of power and strength, flat and emotionless. Elrond chose his words carefully, not to lose him again.
"I think she has played her role, and now she can rest. She is happy now, penneth, sleeping in Mandos' Halls. I-"
"So you think she was not happy with us, that she had to die?"
"Penneth…"
"Please leave me alone, Lord Elrond." The elf-lord stood up, but he lingered there, hoping that he could come up with the right words to put the prince's heart at ease. But he began to understand that Legolas refused to be comforted right now, no matter what he would say.
Gently, Elrond laid his hand upon his shoulder. Legolas just turned and stared at him, his great blue eyes filled with sorrow, his wet hair sticking on his young face.
"I just want to be alone," he repeated. Slowly, Elrond nodded, and retreated to the door. There, he paused a moment, without turning.
"If you need me, I'll be in the room next to you." Then he closed the door behind him, shutting away the image of the sad elf, soaked by the rain and his own, silent tears.
Once the elven prince couldn't see him anymore, he let his carefully constructed mask break and buried his head in his hands. Such grief in one so young. Such pain and anger. Even though his mind recoiled of the thought, he briefly pondered that it was possible he would not be able to save Thranduil's youngest son –a disastrous blow for Mirkwood so soon after they had lost their queen, and a wave of sorrow for Rivendell as well, for many knew the young archer, and respected and loved him. And even if he could save his life, Legolas would forever carry the scars.
Sighing, he opened his eyes again, pushing the future away. For now, he had done what he could. Tomorrow would bring a new day –perhaps it would also bring hope.
At that last thought, a rare smile glide over his face. He had found Hope already.
Silently, he walked to the room left of Legolas' and noiselessly opened the door. The room was dark, though the curtains revealed just a glimpse of the starlight, and a single candle was placed in the corner, spilling its light over the cradle.
Nothing moved. His youngest son had to be in a deep sleep. A blessing, for usually the baby's nights were filled with images of his father's death. When he grew up, he would forget everything about it, though. Only the fear and the chaos would remain, giving him a scar that would cover his heart for eternity, even though the pain would soften through time. But for now, the child's spirit still remembered, and feared.
"Melui elei, ion nin. Fuin sen anann dâf ù presto lle môr." (Sweet dreams, my son. Let the darkness of these times not disturb your sleep.)
After one last, loving look at Estel, he carefully closed the door again and went to his own study. It was late already, and he had not had much sleep in these troubled days. He would be able to help Legolas better if he himself was rested. But when he had entered his room, his eye fell upon the letter, still in the middle of his writing desk. Thranduil's letter. He picked it up, thoughtlessly. Even though he knew the content by heart now, his eyes unconsciously scanned the words again.
Thranduil Oropherion
Eryn Lasgalen
March 14th, Year 2934 of the Third Age.
To Lord Elrond Eärendilion
Rivendell
Lord Elrond,
Tragedy has befallen our realm. You must forgive me for my handwriting, my old friend, for I can barely see the parchment through my tears. My wife, my beautiful Lhantelin, has fallen into the shadow! She was slain by yrch while taking a ride over the Elven Path. These vile creatures –their names and bodies by cursed- become bolder by the day. Lhantelin'scompany was unprepared. Many of them fell.
Legolas was with them, Elrond. He saw everything happening. And even though he is only a bit over 400 years old, he insists it was his fault. Elrond, my friend, I beg you, save him! For I fear that grief will consume him, and take him from me like the yrch took my wife.
Yours sincerely
Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen
"Lord Elrond?" Lindir, the bard of the Hall of Fire, was standing in the opening of the door, his eyes slightly worried. It spoke volumes if Lord Elrond didn't hear someone approaching in his own house. The lord turned and saw the hesitating look in his friend's eyes. He tried to smile.
"Everything is fine, Lindir," he spoke softly, even though the last word left a bitter taste in his mouth. A child was dying in the room next to him, everything from fine –but there was nothing Lindir, or even he himself could do right now.
And besides, he could not share his worries about Thranduil's youngest son with the bard. Lindir was a very fine elf, and an amusing friend, but he spent most of his time singing and composing, and had little eye for the world around Rivendell. He barely knew King Thranduil, and, though he admired Legolas for his fair voice and had spent much of his time with the prince when he came to the haven, he could not advise Elrond in this matter. So Elrond just smiled lightly again, putting the letter back on his desk and raised an eyebrow.
"What matter do you want to discuss so late in the evening?"
"Glorfindel requires your presence in the stables. His mare is about to give birth, but seemingly, there are some complications. He asks for your aid in this."
Elrond frowned lightly. He truly longed for a full night of rest, but if Glorfindel desired his help, there was something really wrong. His friend cared greatly about horses, and knew everything about them. Elrond seldom had to help him. If his knowledge about the noble animals didn't suffice, there was a great chance Elrond would have to call for his own healing powers.
Or perhaps Glorfindel didn't want to take risks, not with his valuable mare. She was one of the finest horses to walk this earth, blessed with the blood of the Mearas. The golden elf was very proud of her, and highly protective. He could not bare to lose her.
Either way, it didn't look like he was going to get a lot of sleep this night.
"I will be on my way in a moment, Lindir." The bard bowed lightly, and rushed away to warn Glorfindel –even though he would not be much of an aid, since he knew nothing about horses. Still, perhaps his music could sooth them.
Quickly, Elrond changed his clothes. There had been some official announcements and meetings, but he doubted whether his refined clothes would impress the unborn foal. Just before he left for the stables, he laid an ear against Estel's door. Everything was quiet. He fervently prayed that it would stay so this night, or at least these first hours, until Elrond was back in his room, where he would hear the crying. He hoped the birth wouldn't take the whole night.
Then he sped down the stairs, leaving the hall behind, empty and silent.
Hope you liked it! Please review!
xXx Archiril