The leaves whispered in the trees, sighing with the last breaths of summer. Autumn had begun to transform the forest, setting it ablaze with vibrant reds and maroons, oranges and golds. And under the light of a full moon the lord of the Greenwood walked alone, for as of late the moon had been calling to him and his thoughts had been dark and gloomy. The time of the elves in middle earth was drawing near to it's end. Soon the choice would have to be made, whether to fade in power and diminish until only wildness and legend were left, or to vanish across the sea to lands undying and remain forever apart from Middle Earth - no longer to have a hand in it's history.
For centuries King Thranduil had known of the choice, yet it had been delayed. For hundreds of years other thoughts had occupied his mind. He had seen war, desolation, great beauty and valour. Unspeakable pain and suffering and renewal above it all. There had been little thought given to the eventual end of his reign in the East.
Yet; now the time of choice grew near and the king found himself utterly unprepared for it. Worse yet, he knew not how his son might choose. The life of fading, or of exile from middle earth. Which would he choose? But he could not ask him, for he had not the courage.
And so Thranduil walked often alone under the moon, it's pure light soothing his weary spirit. But the leaves continued to change and the winds began to grow cool. The days became short and the long nights began, filled with stars and the shining flower of the heavens in it's glory.
And old evils that had long been suppressed began to awaken in the darkness...
King Thranduil for his part breathed deeply of the morning air and relished the warmth of his tea, cupping it in his hands and occasionally tapping the porcelain with his rings for the sound it made even as he listened to the low continuous voice of his chief advisor - a Silvan with a little more grace than his parentage would suggest. Idhrenir had been grateful for the gift which had helped him greatly in winning a place at the Kings side. And in all Eryn Lasgalen there was none save Legolas who Thranduil trusted more. Idhrenir continued on with a voice as unhurried as the mountains, his keen amber eyes calm. Of whether he realized or not that his master was no longer listening he made no indication.
When Anar had risen to her full height Thranduil and his council took their noon meal in the great hall. Yet; though he had been expecting to see his son, Legolas was not there.
"The chief warden on duty today tells me he left to go riding with a small company. He should be back shortly."
Thranduil did his best not to appear thwarted. "Of course. It is a beautiful day - only, tell me as soon as he returns."
When the noon meal was finished the master of the Greenwood went for a walk under the towering stone boughs of his hall. The gleam of polished cavern stone was so cunningly carved that one would think they were walking in a great forest of glimmering white trees were it not for the touch of firm rock beneath their fingertips. Thranduil felt a deep love for these stone-hewn caverns that he suspected might be a little...un-elvish...at times. Yet he felt no remorse for this adoration and often would spend hours simply walking the marble bridges that spanned chasms above the tinkling underwater streams that echoed and laughed through the caves. It was only on those walks, as he strode under the lifted boughs of stone carved and jewel strung beech trees that he would sing songs of an elder age that he alone of his kingdom recalled. His voice lifted and echoed hauntingly in the deep of the halls numerous caverns and even those who did not know the words of old could still feel the beauty of it's pull.
'There a light like day immortal
and like night of stars unclouded, shone and gleamed.
A vault of topless trees it seemed,
whose trunks of carven stone there stood
like towers of an enchanted wood
in magic fast for ever bound,
bearing a roof whose branches wound
in endless tracery of green
lit by some leaf-imprisoned sheen
of moon and sun, and wrought of gems,
and each leaf hung on golden stems.'*
And though his subjects did not know the name of the song they thought it as heart-rendingly beautiful, with an ancient youth and a solemn mirth and in many ways very much like their King.
Though his voice no longer carried it, the ancient refrain continued to echo in his head. A tale of Beren and Luthien - a doom of love everlasting. And he felt a pang for just a moment, of a long-forgotten memory of a love that had been all too fleeting and yet he suspected quite unreturned. But memories seldom come alone and soon his thoughts drifted to other hurts - and one that was most deep to him.
"My lord Thranduil."
Idhrenir spoke to him, clearing the dark thoughts from his mind with his clear and calm voice. The young elf stood only a few feet behind, centered in the narrow causeway. His red-brown hair glistened in the lanterns that adorned the stone trees, shining like fine polished wood.
"My Lord, the captain of the guard has returned. He will be at the gate shortly."
Thranduil heard no more, but hurried away with his robes billowing behind him along the stone walkway. Idhrenir stepped aside and was left in a confused silence to stare after his lord in his haste. Slowly, he followed along behind toward the gate.
He must confess that the kings behavior as of late had been abnormal. However; in the years Idhrenir had served him he had come to expect a certain amount of oddness. He had been faithful at his side for centuries...ever since Dagorlad. At the thought Idhrenir's amber eyes clouded ever so slightly, remembering the pain the orcs had dealt them.
"It surely must have been only through the grace of Iluvater that we survived." He whispered.
The battle had been cruel to their people, so very cruel. Yet the worst hurt Idhrenir himself had taken at Dagorlad itself, before the Black Gates. He had been so young then and naive, and he trembled at the sight of the dark lords stronghold. Yet he desired to be faithful to his king, brave in battle, and honorable unto his death - though it may prove to be that very day.
Thranduil as prince of Greenwood the Great had lain a hand on his shoulder. He did not say a word, yet Idhrenir was comforted. He had heard the tales, he knew that his young master had fought before Angband itself and even faced the wrath of dragons. Yes, that he had even lain eyes upon Ancálagón the Black - a beast so terrible he blotted out the sun with his wings and crushed three mountains in his death throes and spewed fire hotter than any flame Arda had ever seen save the fires of Orodruin itself. Orodruin that they now faced. Oropher, the great King - who in many years past had known prudence now showed regrettable haste. When the opportunity arose he charged the enemy, sending his forces down into the battle before Gil-Galad had given the command.
'FATHER - MY KING!' Thranduil had called out, to no avail. And so with a great spur of his horse he hurdled down the slope after his father, and right into the fray.
A greater moment of fear Idhrenir had not yet known up until that point, as he watched the flight of Orc arrows darken the sky above them. His horse flew with surer hooves even than the princes and Thranduil was cut off by the rearing stallion - and then black rain fell on them both. It was as if in a dream that Idhrenir carried his master, searching for a horse in the carnage of battle. He found one uninjured beast nearly mad with fear and spoke soothing words in it's ear until he could convince it to carry them both across the field. Everywhere battle was thick but the Silvan ignored it - for only one thought consumed him.
It was as if an eternity had passed before the arms of Elrond Half-Elven reached up to take the stricken prince, and even as Idhrenir fell to earth at the end of his strength he pleaded for the wellbeing of his master. He was doubly indebted to the healer for sparing them both.
Striding quickly with boots making little noise on the stone walkways of the city Thranduil hurried to the gate, pulse racing. He was eager to meet the sortie as soon as they arrived.
'If I am quick I may meet them at the Esgalduin-'
At this thought Thranduil hesitated just a moment, slowing gradually until he had come at last to full stop. The thought was wrong, though it had taken a moment to realize.
"Esgalduin? No...for that bridge was sunk long ago in Doriath...even as Beleriand did..."
Yet he could not remember the bridge now that connected the hall of caves to the forest of the Great Greenwood and soon he buried the thought and hurried on. Soon the wrought gates loomed above even his tall head, crowned with bursting boughs of shining emeralds shaped as leaves on the inside of the entryway. Through the gate he stepped into the fading warmth of the fall. For a time he stood in the great stone balcony and listened to the chirp of birds in the blazing boughs of trees, feeding on the remaining berries and calling to their mates in lovely song. The sun glinted through golden-red beechs that swayed in a soft but cool wind. All the world seemed warmed by autumns last heat.
Echoing up the path was the sound of hooves thudding dully in the earth. And then, around the corner with a sudden victorious bound came the sortie back from patrol and Thranduil felt his heart leap. A light came into his gray eyes that had long been darkened.
At the head of the formation rode a tall and proud elf on a dappled pale gray horse with a steel gray mane - Arod. Upon his back was a mighty bow and quiver, and his hair streamed in the fair wind the color of palest gold - like the reflection of the sun on water, yet also like the lightest of silver that was beginning to twine into it, like hints of mithril. The gray eyes were joyful yet wizened through battle and age. And for just a moment Thranduil forgot himself and his station, for he felt as if he were called back to the days of his youth in the great halls of Thingol.
The proud elf dismounted and smiled. "Father, we've returned."
In that moment a strange and terrible feeling overcame Thranduil. For he felt the love he had toward his son, heir to his domain and felt joy at his safe return. And yet...he had for a moment thought another's voice would be greeting him, and in his heart Thranduil knew that he longed more for a voice from the past than what stood before him now. For just a heartbeat he had wished that Beleg - whom he had thought of first - had returned, not Legolas.
As best he could Thranduil smiled, hiding the pain his own heart caused him at the realization. He felt nearly sick at the thought that his own son should take second place in his thoughts and horrified of that truth.
"Welcome Legolas...surely you must be tired. Rest, and then tell me about what you've seen on this journey. I trust all is well in the marches?"
"Never better! Not a sign of an enemy for as long as we rode - our lands are clear by all accounts of our scouts and companies. They'll put me out of work like this!" Legolas laughed at the end. Thranduil smiled, his spirit returning.
"Oh, and yet you do not worry about MY position. I hear there's some young upstart trying to take it. Imagine that..."
"Not...for a good long while. I enjoy hunting Orcs in my free time, something that will be greatly hindered if I must listen to council all morning."
"And now you know my sorrow!" Thranduil commented with a quick but amused smirk, leading them back through the wide door. "But council must be taken."
"But surely not until after tea? I have news for you from the forest - a messenger from Erebor."
"Is it urgent?" Thranduil asked with an unintended sharpness, his gray eyes worried and body tense.
Legolas calmed him. "Nothing to fear at least. It was good tidings and greetings and an invitation. I have returned with a letter."
"Hm." Thranduil nodded, relaxing once again. Yet he still did not feel as if he could endure even a short time alone with Legolas. He loved him dearly and the thought that the kings words might betray him weighed heavy on his heart - for it was his intention that his son should have no inkling of his inner turmoil. So Thranduil nodded and waved to Idhrenir who took the letter on his masters behalf.
"Is that so? Well, I return their greetings and I will return to this matter after other more pressing ones have been dealt with. I am sorry that I cannot join you for a quick meal, my son, I will meet you tomorrow however. The first meal should be convenient?"
Legolas nodded, a bit confused at this break with habit. "Of course. I look forward to it."
Thranduil seemed pleased as he left, speaking quickly with Idhrenir who was trying desperately to keep up. Legolas seemed less pleased as he watched his father depart and his mind turned in an effort to explain this riddle he did not have the answer to.
Author Note:
*Excerpt from Lay of Leithian, direct quote.