Written for Erelil Morningstar's birthday. Happy birthday, Erelil! Thank you for being my friend! I hope you like the story.
Legolas stared at the oaken office door, his face a picture of misery. Inside the office sat ada. Ada busy with his paperwork. Ada who had no time for him. Ada who had sent him away because he was too busy for anything else.
Legolas knocked hesitantly at the office door again, hopeful that perhaps ada had changed his mind and would let him in. Legolas desired to be in the room with his father, nothing else.
"Legolas!" Thranduil's voice said sharply. "I am extremely busy at the moment. Go find something else to occupy your empty time."
Legolas's shoulders slumped. He turned away from the door and trudged down the long hall. The flames from the torches lining the walls fell on the floor, their shadows dancing merrily. Legolas came to the end of the hall and turned left into another long passageway lined by doors. Set in the wall at the end of the passageway, stood the door to his room. A few feet before the door to his room, another door led into ada's room. And at the end of the passageway, past both doors, a stairway wound its way down into the kitchens. The Head Cook, Epson, used the stairway to bring up snacks.
Legolas started down the stairs, taking each step with reluctance. He waited, hoping to hear ada's voice calling him back. But he heard nothing but heavy silence. Legolas quickened his pace until he reached the end of the stairs and he entered the kitchens.
The kitchens were warm, filled with the pleasant smell of roasting meats and baking bread. Elves rushed to and fro, holding trays of steaming food and wooden bowls containing the delicious batters to cakes and cookies. Epson stood icing doughnuts at the counter that ran the length of the wall opposite the stairway. It ended on one side of a door, continuing on the other side. Cabinets lined the wall under the counter. The cabinet handles were welded iron, forged to resemble dragon's heads. Cabinets ran the length of the wall above the counter as well. In the center of the room stood a long row of tables, generously floured, where loaves of bread, buns, and rolls were rising. Sacks of flour were piled under the tables. On the wall opposite Epson, another counter ran the length of it, with more cabinets above and below it. But those cabinets held jars off cookies, doughnuts, and candies. And the counter held trays of cooling cakes, scones, and croissants fresh from the ovens at the back of the kitchen. That counter being right next to him when he came off the stairs, Legolas loved the snag one of whatever the nearest tray held. Today he grabbed a doughnut and walked across the kitchen. He stopped next to Epson and eyed the doughnuts the Head Cook was icing.
The doughnuts flew under Epson's hand, coming in plain and leaving dripping with icing. Next to Epson stood Cyria, his daughter. She hurried the iced doughnuts onto trays, then passes the trays to her sisters, who rushed them across the kitchen to the cooling counter and came running back for the next lot of trays.
Epson paused his work for a moment to hand Legolas a freshly iced doughnut. He wiped his sticky hands on his apron and handed the icing knife to Cyria. Epson guided Legolas to a chair by one of the tables and bid him sit down. He sat down opposite Legolas and took a roll of bread from the tray offered to him by his nervous apprentice.
His apprentice, Quartz, eyed his master apprehensively as Epson tasted his work. His red hair escaped his braid, curling around his flushed face.
"Not to bad," Epson said, chewing the roll. "A bit tough. Back to work. You need more improvement."
Quartz set down his tray with a bang and stormed exasperatedly back to his workstation.
"What brings your highness down to the kitchens today?" Epson asked Legolas.
"Ada is busy," Legolas said sadly.
Epson smiled sympathetically. "I imagine it must be a hard job being king. He will come back to you, Legolas. He has to finish his work first. Remember the last time this happened? He came to play with you after he completed his work."
"Yes, but this time he yelled at me and told me to get lost," Legolas said, remembering the look on Thranduil's face when he had gone into his father's office the first time.
"He must have important work to do," Epson said. "I am sure he did not mean to yell at you."
Legolas stood up. "I am going to go outside."
"It is cold out there," Epson said.
"I will dress properly," Legolas said. He always felt better alone in the forest. He ran up to his room. After dressing in his heavy cloak and fur-lined robes, he returned to the kitchens, troubled by the ache of his father's rejection in his heart. Epson gave him six hot cookies and opened the kitchen door for him.
Legolas stepped out of the kitchens onto the snow-covered ground. Epson closed the door behind him and Legolas stood alone in a silent world. The trees were blanketed with snow. Legolas ran away from the palace, into the forest. The sun shone down, slicing through the branches snaking thick overhead. The sun caused the snow to sparkle and the ice on the creeks he passed to shine. Legolas breathed in the crisp, cold air, forgetting about ada's rejection. Alone and happy in the forest, he danced, his cloak flying around him in ripples and his hair tossed by the wind.
Suddenly the sunshine winked out. Dark storm clouds rolled across the sky and the light dimmed. Legolas's laughter ended abruptly as the first gales of strong wind swept through the trees, knocking weak limbs from the trees. The freezing wind carried on its skirts clouds of thick, swirling snow. The blizzard tore past Legolas and engulfed him. The snow swirled, impossible to see through. Legolas clutched his cloak to him as the wind threatened to blow it away. The confused air currents blew snow up into his eyes and made them smart. They buffeted his small body one way, then the other, throwing him against trees.
Terror filled Legolas's heart. He had heard the blizzards and seen the thick, swirling snow but always it had been from the safety of ada's arms. He knew the cold could freeze him solid, knew no one could ever find him in the fury of the storm. He stood alone and lost, with death near at hand. He stumbled, blown by the harsh winds, and suddenly there was nothing under him. He crashed down into darkness, the screaming wail of the winds fading somewhat. His leg snapped beneath him as he hit the ground, and he fainted.
Two mugs of hot chocolate in hand, Thranduil hummed a tune as he approached his son's room. He had finished his work and he remembered the stricken look on Legolas's face after being thrown forcefully out of the office. The time had come for him to make up for that. Thranduil entered his son's room but found it empty. Well, Legolas could be in the library reading. Outside in the wall, Thranduil ran into Epson coming off the stairs leading down to the kitchen.
"Is Legolas back yet?" Epson asked worriedly.
"Where has he gone?" Thranduil asked sharply.
"He ventured outside not half an hour ago," Epson replied.
Thranduil's eyes widened, the faint sounds of the blizzard suddenly seeming loud. "I-I-he is not in his room. Maybe the library . . ."
Thranduil rushed to the library, abandoning the mugs of cocoa. They crashed the floor and broke into pieces amongst the puddle of chocolaty liquid. The library held many elves, curled comfortably in chairs, but Legolas did not sit among them. Elves were sent to search the palace from top to bottom. Every cupboard was turned out, revealing some interesting items, but not Legolas.
Thranduil stared out the closed window in the library after hearing that the search had been futile, at the whiteness beyond, his face pale. Legolas could not be out in that surely. But where else could he be if not in the palace. He could not face the truth. In the blizzard, Legolas could die!
"No!" Thranduil murmured. "No! No!"
Epson gently guided Thranduil to an armchair close by the hearth that warmed the library and made him sit down. Thranduil collapsed numbly, his emotions a tornado of grief. He barely heard Epson as the elf spoke softly in his ear.
"The only thing that can be done, Thranduil, is to pray the blizzard ends soon. If it is a short storm, Legolas may survive."
Thranduil slid out of the chair to his knees. He closed his eyes, turned his face upwards, and prayed.
The blizzard raged through the forest, laying snow thick upon the ground. Restless, Thranduil wandered through the halls of his home, too unhappy to sleep and too sick to concentrate on anything. The paperwork in his office piled up unheeded. But, where once he had been expected to do it, no one bothered him now. The elves in the palace understood their king grieved the loss of his son and left him to wander the halls and sing of his sorrow.
Epson dared to slip up to his Lordship's bedchamber every morning and night to leave a tray of warm rolls and take away the empty tray away. He knew the food did not go to waste for the tray lay empty every night. On one such trip, he had placed the full tray on Thranduil's desk and turned to leave when Thranduil's personal attendant entered the room.
Taren looked at Epson sadly. His red robes swirled at his feet as he crossed the room to stand by Epson.
"Your little gestures are very much appreciated," he said softly. "But soon they will be wasted. The king is fading."
"How—how long do you think it will take?"
Taren shrugged. "He could drop dead any minute now."
Epson closed his eyes, squeezing them slightly. Everyone knew the truth but for it to be told so bluntly stung the heart. He opened his eyes and nodded his thanks to Taren before he hurried from the room, longing to forcefully knead his grief into a loaf of bread. He could hear Thranduil singing, his sad voice filtering though the halls.
"The wind blows cold through the treetops,
Bending the bare limbs of the trees.
The wind blows cold through the treetops,
Carrying snow on the skirts of its robe.
I know that I hold you close to my heart
And yet I turned you away.
You took your heart, your shattered heart,
And fled unto the trees.
The wind blows cold through the treetops,
Causing the tears on your face to turn frigid
And freeze.
Oh, what have I done?
Oh, what have I done?
I closed the door in your face.
How much effort would it take
To let you sit by me instead?
I shut the door to your heart
And sent your broken soul away.
The wind blows cold through the treetops
Knowing where your body lies,
Frozen by grief.
My heart lies in pieces,
My soul does weep to be graced by your sweet company.
There is no end to the sorrow
I feel,
There is no end to my grief.
I know I still crave your laugh and your eyes
But death claimed them at the door.
Your death lies heavy on my heart
My cried are heard on the breeze.
Oh, what have I done?
Oh, what have I done?
I closed the door
Broke your sweet heart,
Scattered the pieces without a care.
Cold snow does fall,
Masking your pale face.
How can I undo what is done?
Oh, that I could go back in time
To the fated hour
And instead open the door to your smile!
Now darkness falls and still you are gone,
Lost in cold, buried in snow.
How will I find you
If only to hold you once more?
Oh, what have I done?
Oh, what have I done?
I ache to undo my cruel actions.
I wish that I could,
I wish that I could,
And yet I cannot.
The wind blows cold through the treetops
Freezing the tears in my heart.
The wind blows cold through the treetops
My eyes weep.
All I can do it ache for your small hands to touch my face.
I ache to hold you close to my chest,
To warm your cold body with the love
That flows in my heart.
I ache to find you among the trees and lay you to rest.
I ache to breath life back into your face.
The wind blows cold through the treetops
Cutting off your laugh.
Your face is cold, your heart is stilled
Your spirit has flown.
Oh, what have I done?
Oh, what have I done?
Your death lies heavy on my heart.
Alas that I cannot undo what is done,
Restore your laugh to the breeze . . ."
Thranduil's voice trailed off. As the last high, sad notes died in the air around him, he stood still, tears in his eyes, staring at the wall ahead of him. The quiet seemed strange.
Like a bucket of cold water, the truth hit him. The blizzard no longer raged! The silence lay still, as though the whole of Middle Earth grieved for the loss of—the loss of—
No! He could not say it. Not when hope had returned. He could search for his son now. Only when he found Legolas would he know the truth. Until then, he would hope and pray he would find Legolas alive. Thranduil hurried to his room. He tied back his hair, pinned on two thick woolen cloaks, and slid his hands into his gloves. He descended to the kitchens and crossed the floor to the door, it being the closest exit from the palace.
Epson laid a hand on his arm. "Thranduil, another storm could come at any minute."
"All the more reason to find Legolas," Thranduil replied. He stepped out of the kitchen and slammed the door in his wake. It flew open and Epson ran out, swinging on his cloak.
"If you must take off like a mad elf, you are not going alone!" Epson said with a glare.
Thranduil did not protest. The cold air blew around him, tossing the powdery snow into the air. He imagined himself in his son's body, free and happy in the forest. His grief began to ebb away. Thranduil grabbed Epson's hands.
"Dance with me," he said.
"You have gone mad," Epson said with a shake of his head. His initial discomfort soon faded as he and Thranduil raced through the trees, laughing. When at last the two elves stopped to catch their breath, the cold seemed fiercer. Thranduil's shining eyes darkened as he realized their path had not led them to Legolas.
"We must return home," Epson advised. "I know your heart grieves for your son but you know he is dead. You cannot even hope to find his body until the snow melts."
Thranduil swallowed, all hope gone. Epson had said what he refused to think with cruel bluntness. He looked up at the grey tree limbs overhead. "I know. I-I-I—you are right; we should return home."
Legolas heard voices so he could not be dead. He uncurled his stiff body and tried to move but his broken leg twisted and fiery pain shot through his body. Legolas gave a weak cry. He lay still and listened, straining his ears to hear the voices. The blizzard must be over and the scouts must be looking for him. They were almost directly overhead from the hole in which he lay. Snow had covered the top of the hole and frozen into a thick crust. The scouts could easily walk away and miss him!
So cold . . . Legolas shivered. His cloak had not kept him warm enough throughout the blizzard. He could not feel his hands. He gave a weak cry to try and make himself heard but his efforts were rewarded with the sound of footsteps beginning to move away. Panic filled Legolas's heart. If he lay here much longer, he knew he could die! Legolas jerked himself to his feet, stumbling forward. His weight landed on his broken leg and he screamed in agony, collapsing to his hands and knees. His scream echoed in the hole but would the scouts hear it?
Voices exclaimed overhead. Legolas lay in a daze, dizzy and faint. Snow crashed down around him. The icy ceiling caved in. Legolas tried to focus but instead felt sick. He fainted.
Legolas opened his eyes. Sunlight streamed through the window onto his face. He lay on a bed in a big room. Thick, warm blankets covered him. The window was to his left. Opposite the foot of his bed stood a table set back against the wall. At his right stood an armchair. And in it sat Thranduil, his head bowed, his eyes half-closed.
"Ada?" Legolas's voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Ada!" He struggled to sit up, fighting to untangle to heavy blankets.
Thranduil jerked awake. He shot to his feet and came to Legolas's bedside, hurriedly untangling the blankets. He lifted the blankets and slid into bed next to his son. Legolas reached for him. Thranduil settled back against the pillows and helped Legolas snuggle down next to him. Legolas lay still, breathing in the warm, piney scent of his father that he knew so well.
"It broke," he said.
"The healers fixed your leg," Thranduil answered, stroking Legolas's blonde hair.
Legolas turned his head and met his father's eyes. "I am sorry I ran away."
"And I am sorry that I yelled at you and threw you out of my office," Thranduil said, unable to resist kissing Legolas's cheek.
Legolas drew in a deep breath. A moment later he fell asleep. Thranduil rested his head on his arm and gazed at his son's face until he too slept.
Thranduil slid out from under the blankets with a small sigh. He had been dreaming of paperwork. Now would be a good time to stop putting it off and do it. He walked to the door and exited the room with a brief glance over his shoulder at his sleeping son. He proceeded to his office. When he came in at the door, the familiar sight of his desk greeted him. The walls of the room held bookcases stuffed with books and papers. Against one wall reposed a sofa. And there were piles and piles of paperwork at his desk.
Thranduil armed himself with a pen a bottle of ink as he sat down behind his desk and slapped the first document down in front of him. Doggedly, he began to work his way through the pile. Half-way through the first stack, the door opened and one of the healer's came into the room with Legolas in his arms.
Thranduil jumped to his feet, fearing the worst, but the healer explained, "Your son wanted to be in your presence."
Thranduil gave a sigh of relief. He gestured to the sofa. The healer laid Legolas down on the couch and covered him with a blanket. Legolas rested his head on the arm of the couch, looking with a wide smile at his father. The healer left the room and Thranduil returned to his desk.
"Ada?"
"Legolas, I am very busy and I need quiet to concentrate," Thranduil said patiently.
"I know. I just wanted to say I love you."
Thranduil looked up at his son. He could not keep the smile off his face note the twinkle from his eyes. "I love you to, little leaf. Forever and ever and always."