Here goes my first Hobbit/LOTR fic! The first one to see the light of day, that is. I have written many, for my own amusement, but this one's the first I feel confident enough to share with the world.
It's just a one-shot, a drabble, if you prefer, of what I imagine must have been one of the many audiences an audience between Legolas and Thranduil before the Battle of the Five Armies (and before The Desolation of Smaug). I am in movie!verse here: Legolas is the head of the guard in charge of protecting Mirkwood's borders, keeping all kinds of threats at bay, but, as of late, the situation is getting out of hand. The prince is restless and tries to reach out to King Thranduil, his father, with whom he has a… complicated relationship.
Warning: Family feels ahead! (At least, I had them – I LOVE THEM SO MUCH).
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, all characters belong to Tolkien and his heirs, I'm just having a bit of fun with them. Enjoy!
"Aran nin" (My king)
Thranduil lifted his head from the documents he was revising. Legolas stood before him, straight as an arrow, in impeccable shape even though he had just returned from a raid in the woods. The lovely softness of his son's voice was gone and now he spoke with the firmness of a captain. Listening to him, Thranduil felt a mixture of pride and bitterness. He should be singing, not commanding.
"I come to request an audience with my King."
The Lord of Mirkwood said nothing and stared at the prince, vaguely trying to remember when had it been that they had started communicating like this.
He turned to the guards, his rich voice resonating all over the halls. "Leave us."
The king put the documents aside and stood up. He went to the stairs and began his descent from where he sat to where his son stood, now shifting his weight from one foot to another.
They were alone.
The only sound was his father's robes rustling as he went down the stairs. All this stillness was making him uncomfortable and Legolas' fingers itched, unconsciously missing holding a bow or tensing an arrow.
Thranduil noticed his son's restlessness and smiled inwardly. Legolas had no patience for diplomacy.
"Now, what is it that you wish to discuss?" he asked, his whole body now facing the prince, letting him know that he had his full attention.
Legolas stopped fidgeting and focused on his report.
"The spider's nest has been destroyed as you requested, my Lord…"
"Good."
"… but larger spiders have been roaming the forest none the less."
There was a brief moment when Legolas met his father's gaze, at which point Thranduil avoided holding it for long and began walking around the throne room.
"They must be the remaining breed of that fowl nest in the East. I do not think they should be a problem." He made a gesture indicating his disinterest and made to go back to the throne. At that moment, Legolas stepped forward, preventing him to do so.
"They are becoming more daring" he pressed. The older elf stood tall and raised an eyebrow at his son's tone.
"Have you killed them?"
"Indeed we have." There was more than a hint of pride in Legolas' voice.
"Then that's that." Thranduil said as matter-of-factly as he could.
"My lord."
It was the second time that day that his son had almost surprised him with his insistence and it was becoming unacceptable.
"Legolas."
The use of his name threw him off for a moment, but he collected his thoughts to carry on.
"We have encountered a pack of orcs patrolling on the western gate. I could not distinguish the markings on this helmet. I thought maybe you could."
He threw at his feet a foul black helmet he had been holding. At the sight of the white markings, Thranduil felt a nauseating dread he had not felt in thousands of years. Nothing betrayed his uneasiness, except perhaps his eyes. If Legolas noticed it, he didn't show it.
"All were slain, but I fear more will come. Ada." (Father)
Thranduil met his son's eyes and this time he didn't look away. He blamed the hint of warmth in Legolas' voice when he called him that. How long had it been…? He couldn't remember, as hard as he tried. How was it possible that he couldn't remember the last time he called him that?
When he could listen to him again, his son's tone was grim.
"Spiders closing in around us, orcs are getting nearer than ever. The trees are sick and… unsettled."
"You are afraid."
"Yes." He sated simply, ignorant of the fact that he looked braver than ever. He took a long breath before saying the following, but said it all the same "I am afraid that we are doing nothing to stop the Darkness invading the Forest."
He could feel his father growing cold, his shoulders squared, his jaw, clenched. Looking at him, Legolas urged himself to remember that his father had been a warrior too, long ago.
A fierce one at that.
"And what exactly do you mean by nothing? We have fought back, have we not? Else we would not be standing."
Kings could be vain but warriors were proud. That was something the prince could understand. Maybe if he could explain to him…
"These are not creatures lead astray from the path. They seem to be part of something larger."
"These are mere conjectures drawn by one raid on a pack of orcs. I will not discuss this further."
"But –" he felt childish, absurd, and he hated it, but he had to stay there, he had to be heard, his words should have to make a difference…
"I said I wouldn't. I am your King and Father."
There it was. A force like a foul creature fed by anger and frustration began to grown in his chest. There were so many things Legolas would have wanted to say to his father right then and there, but the fact that Thranduil had not only pulled rank but stated his parental superiority only to belittle him was too hard a blow.
"Don't…"
The lump in his throat was evident but he forced it down. By the Valar, he would not make a show of it, like a spoilt little elfling!
"Don't make this about us!" he practically barked "I am worried for our people."
"And what am I supposed to do? Prepare for war? Demand more sons and daughters to send them into the void? I have seen the Shadow. I live with it. I have felt my trees grow sick with the ill makings of Darkness."
His back was to his son again, as he walked away from him. His regal cape fell to the floor. Legolas stopped himself from picking it up and Thranduil went on, not noticing that it had slipped from his arms, his voice now a painful whisper:
"I can barely remember starlight washing over my face. This is Greenwood no more, and I fear my heart has forgotten all the songs of old."
Such was the sorrow there that Legolas felt the tears pooling in his eyes, unbidden, almost uncontrollable. He felt very little and very useless. Suddenly all his rage faded away and he would have wanted nothing more that hug his father right then and there. If only he could have reached for him. He wondered if the gap between them had grown to wide for him to hold his hand again and warm it with his own.
Flexing his trembling fingers, he tried with words again.
"Ada, please, listen." The tremor in his voice was noticeable. "We must ask for help."
"Help?" Thranduil hissed, turning to him once again. "From where? Imladris? Lórien?" he spat. "I have long defended this Realm without the need of a Ring of Power. I won't be found groveling for crumbles now!"
Proud, indeed.
"We will endure." Thranduil continued, in a hard tone. "Since they have more weapons that us, let them care about what goes on outside."
The prince sighed, battle weary, his shoulders suddenly feeling very sore.
As if looking at his son for the first time in years, Thranduil moved closer to him, not without keeping a distance. "Despite what elflings think about their parents, I am not invincible."
Legolas dared to look at him one more time. He should be blooming, not decaying.
"I have grown, and while I can only admire your great strength, I know you are not. That is precisely why we must make an alliance and face evil at its source."
But Thranduil was already beyond his reach, making his way back to the throne.
"I won't start a war!" his steps were less than light on the wooden surface, his hair was tangling before his eyes and, for a brief moment, Legolas could see he was not the epitome of what the Woodland King was supposed to be. No, he is not.
"War is already starting elsewhere and it will come here!" His son now was pleading. Prince and commander making a last stand for the cause.
He slouched back in the throne and felt instantly better, as if something missing had found its way back inside him. But, by Eru, he was tired.
"What do you want from me, Legolas? Are you waiting for my official statement? Let them come. We will be ready. And that is all I will say on the matter." His eyes told his son pressing the issue further was not only useless, but perilous. Confusion and hurt flashed in the eyes of his son. "This audience is over."
With that, his eyes went back to the yellow-papered documents before him. His mind, however, did not.
Legolas had tried to reach out to him and he had swatted his hand away. A voice in his head told him he would try so many times before learning and not risking it again.
Before he could speak again, he heard the light footsteps of his son leaving the room. A feeling of hollowness began to take over him and he did nothing to stop it. He sat motionless, barely breathing.
Ever since the first time I held you, my child, I wished you nothing but happiness, not fear and despair. It seems, however, I have little else to offer.
~ANGST~
*blows nose* *dries tears with back of hand* Oh, these two. Just hug it out already!
English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammar mistakes.
Feedback is greatly appreciated!