Author's Note: Well, here it is...my 2nd LotR fic. What am I coming to? Some things to consider while reading: I'm depressed right now...on top of that I'm missing my boyfriend...so this is, big shocker, angsty. However, I like the canon as it is, so there is no romance in here unless it was done by Tolkien. He hasn't told me to pair up his characters with anyone new, so you'll be pretty disappointed if you're reading this for Legolas Lovin'.
The Silmarillion is highly recommended, it may or may not make this an easier read. Probably not, but I'm reading it now, so it will have a teeny impact on this story. And now that I've talked myself in a circle, I'll just let you read, mmkay?
Well, one more thing. I did NOT want to do it, but I had to: I named Legolas' brothers.
*cringes* But since I don't think Tolkien ever did, I gave them temporary names. It's a short
story, anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter.
"The forest is quiet, Father."
Thranduil turned his head to look at his son; it was the closest thing to a startled jolt Legolas had seen from him since the prince had been a child. Legolas, early on, had learned that the saying 'you'd have to get up pretty early to get the jump on him' was not strictly true. Not if you let 'him' only have two hours of sleep a week.
Calmly, the King pointed out, "You have been, as well, Legolas."
If a glance was the only sign of the King's surprise, then his statement was the strongest sign of his relief. Father and son had been virtually inseparable since Legolas' return to Eryn Lasgalen, the kingdom formerly called Mirkwood, but not even the sharpest ears could have heard any conversation between them. When the prince had first arrived, Thranduil could not coax a word out of him, and after the second day he had stopped trying. It was not for an interrogation that Legolas had come home.
Now he watched his son closely, trying to gauge the wisdom of asking him a question that would, one way or another, get a reaction.
And Thranduil, who appeared no older than his sons except for the depths of wisdom in his eyes, decided that, it would be unfair, and even cruel to ask such questions this soon. He settled on a suggestion. "Do you wish to take a walk?"
The prince nodded slowly and followed him out.
"Legolas, I am troubled."
Thranduil found he couldn't be silent any longer. The younger Elf looked up from a small freshwater pond, where bright orange fish were swimming lazily about each other. Legolas' expression asked all the questions Thranduil would rather have heard.
The King moved forward, and stood beside him. "It is strange that you came alone, without even Gimli the Dwarf." On Legolas' face there was no flicker of pain, or sorrow, and Thranduil took this as a sign that it was safe to continue. "Where is he?"
Legolas smiled slightly. "Among his people." His eyes glittered mischievously. "Were you worried?"
Thranduil almost sighed with relief. He should have known that any mention of the Dwarf would lift Legolas' spirits. Even if it was brief, it was better than leaving him in constant silence.
The blond Sindarin king arched an eyebrow. "Worried, my son? For a dwarf? When you came without him, I feared something had happened to that cumbersome growth on his chin he is so proud of, and that he would never show his face in the Greenwood again!"
Legolas chuckled, but it was without the merriment he usually had. "I shall have to tell him when next I see him, Father. His must be the first beard to receive the concern of an Elf King."
A full two sentences. Thranduil was almost ready to start keeping track of their progress.
"You have not slept since you arrived, have you?"
Legolas looked down at his brother from where he was seated, high in a tree outside Thranduil's caves. Thranduil had been called away shortly on some other business. It was the first time in over a week that he had been separated from Legolas for more than an hour.
The crown prince of Eryn Lasgalen began to climb up easily. "It can't be good for you, brother. When was the last time you dreamt?"
Legolas waited until the other prince was hanging upside down in front of him before he shook his head with a small laugh. "When my mind wearies, it will take its rest."
Tufaer unhooked his legs from the limb and righted himself, so that they were facing one another. "You spoke! I cannot tell you what a relief it is that you have found your tongue again, Legolas." Then he frowned. "But am I right to assume from your answer, that you have gone long without 'taking rest'?"
Legolas lowered his gaze to the forest floor. When his brother's eyes stayed on him, uncomfortably long, he looked up and nodded. "Yea, you understood my words. But it does not feel long since I last slept, so I do not know why you worry."
Tufaer laughed and rocked back on his heels. "Of course it doesn't feel long to you! You are an Elf, Legolas; many things which ought to be long seem but a few minutes to us. But do not mistake that. Not feeling and not needing are quite different."
Legolas frowned at him slightly. "Should I mistrust what I feel, then?"
It was an unexpected reaction, but then, anytime this night that Legolas spoke was unexpected. Tufaer answered carefully, "No. Never should you mistrust what is in your heart; at least, that is what I have always believed. But what is it that you feel, dear brother?"
Legolas gazed at him, his eyes more closely resembling the sad wisdom of the Noldor than any Sindar or Silvan Elf. He climbed down from the tree without offering an answer.
"There have been Elves asking about you, Legolas."
Thranduil had found his son basking in the pale early morning light, and it reminded him why the prince had received the name Legolas, Green Leaf. The Elf always strove for brightness, and warmth, and he flourished in peace. This at least had not changed. And Legolas, who rarely found time to read, always made time for the Royal Library, where the sun poured in every hour of the day, speckling the room with floating golden dust, and aging the books and parchment. The room was the most inviting in Eryn Lasgalen.
The fair archer looked down from his perch, which was becoming the brightest spot in the room, and gave Thranduil a questioning look.
Thranduil was many times Legolas' age, but he had never, and would never, lose the spry abilities of his youth. He climbed up to the secluded perch so quickly that a mortal wouldn't have seen it, and was met with a bemused grin. "I would swear to it that my family is made up of tree squirrels rather than Elves, Father."
Thranduil laughed. "I assume one of your brothers has paid you a visit?"
Legolas smiled. "Tufaer, yes. Is Lagiavas on an errand?"
Thranduil nodded. "He insists on busying himself in someway or another during this time of the year, and he wished for travel, so I sent him to Gondor with news. But alas, my curiosity does not wish to be contained. What reason do journeying Elves have to worry for you?"
Legolas sighed quietly; dust swirled around the disturbance. "I am afraid I have concerned many people." He turned his bright gray eyes to his father. "How would you know they worry for me? They do not know that I am here."
Under his son's stare, Thranduil felt unexplainably guilty. He tried to push it aside. "Lagiavas met up with them; they were on their way to meet with you, but he explained that you had come to Greenwood, and a message was left with him instead. He was not far out, so he returned and passed it to me. That was why I was called away last night."
Legolas gave him a faint smile, his eyes dancing a little. "Do not look so ashamed, Father. I knew already that you spy upon my affairs. My brothers warned me when I accepted my stewardship that, as the youngest, you would still seek to coddle me."
Thranduil folded his arms across his chest. "Truly. And here is something my greatest spies could not answer. How do the Elves under your care put up with your wit? Now come, tell me, why did they seek an audience with you? The message was less than formal; I feel that between your brother and the messenger, it has been shortened to this, 'Come to us soon, for the seasons are changing and there is much you would wish to hear'."
Legolas pondered it for a while, clearly understanding some other message than a simple invitation. Thranduil forced himself to be patient. At length, Legolas began, "Several years ago, I went to..." and then, Legolas stopped, and looked at his father.
Thranduil felt the palpable, invisible distance between them lengthen.
The prince began again, having rethought his words while attempting to make it seem he had not, "I met a large group of wanderers, Elves, nearly fifty years ago, and we became friends. It has been more than three years since we last spoke face to face, and there will be much for us to discuss." He sighed. "I have missed them, but I do not think I shall join them...not yet."
Thranduil started to prod, and point out that Legolas had not fooled him so easily, but he was stopped with, "I am weary, Father. I wish to retire to my room now. That is where I will be should you need me."
"They do not understand."
Legolas couldn't be sure if he said that aloud, or if it was even his own thought. It was simply true.
Night had come to the realm of Thraduil, but this was a place that never slept. Outside, below him and around him, Silvan Elves went about their work, or wandered with each other, laughing over new jokes, sharing stories.
The trees were strong and vibrant, steady with their deep roots. The love the Elves had for the trees was undying, and the union in Eryn Lasgalen was, to those who could be attuned to it, as sure and comforting as a child's security blanket would be. Everything in this kingdom was together, and loved the presence of the other beings.
Except for Legolas.
Those haunting words came back to his mind. 'Legolas Greenleaf, long under tree In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea! If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore, Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more.'
Galadriel had been too kind in that warning. Or too vague...no, she hadn't been very vague. He had understood, on some level, what she was saying. But he had ignored her. Not blatantly ; but consequences came regardless of a pure intent.
His heart could not return to the forest. Not even when it should have recognized and rejoiced at the warmth of his homeland. But neither could his heart return to anywhere else in Middle earth.
And those West-bound Elves...what did they mean by tormenting him? How could they ask him such things? Had he not explained his purpose for remaining in this world?
In this world, with his family ; a phrase which extended to his friends, the Hobbits, Aragorn, and especially Gimli.
This world...this world...this world.........
Where the beaches did not glitter with the sun, where that beautiful song was a forgotten memory, where the land was filled with more fear and anger and apathy than love. This world where the peoples in it found love only because they did not know joy!
A bitter sob choked the young prince, as he struggled with these strange, endlessly true thoughts.
It seemed to him that he stood away from the delicate, uniting web in this kingdom. Not above it...and yet no one knew he stood out from it. The web had been so strong. Could one instant really have pulled him loose of it? One sea bird? One cruel, soaring bird? It carried in its voice everything that reminded Legolas of the sea.
But that was all it was, a reminder of the cool ocean, which was laid out like a map to Valinor.
For it was not the gull that summoned his heart, it was the city of the Valar, where he would no longer feel every undercurrent of lust and hatred and....fear...of death.
The walls Legolas had been bouncing between in his mind dropped without warning, as he finally allowed himself to think this last thought. The call was worse because of his fear. He knew it. But he also knew that if he left, the fear would...no, not be forgotten, but it would be soothed away back to Middle earth by the knowledge that everything would end up better.
And he would not see it. He would never have to face the cold stillness again. He would never wonder where the mortals went, or why he could not follow them.