AN 6/6/2017: I published this about three years ago, and while I'm really overwhelmed by all the positivity it's received, my writing has gotten considerably better since then, so please enjoy the revised version.
Reviews are my life force.
Their voices were hushed, but Aragorn guessed that it was a tense conversation. Legolas, his dear friend and Prince of the Woodland Realm, was thousands of years old, but he still had many centuries of youth to live. He should've been able to relax, to forget for a moment that he was the son of a king, a legacy that needed to be fulfilled.
Aragorn didn't want to cause a rift between his friend and his practically authoritarian father, but he knew a significant one had existed long before he had come into the fold. It was his fault in the first place. Aragorn had been in one of those rare moods where he wanted to ride until he reached the ends of Middle-earth, and he foolishly goaded Legolas into coming with him. Of course, they hadn't gone to the ends of Middle-earth, only the edge of Mirkwood, but they might as well have. It may have been simple and childish, but he just wanted to see his friend smile.
They had returned, and not a moment passed before Thranduil grabbed his son's arm and pulled him aside. Legolas chose to have their conversation in the common tongue. It was most likely out of courtesy for Aragorn, who was eavesdropping, even though he knew that his friend's Elvish was flawless.
"Ada, you are over-reacting," Legolas's voice was rich as honey and could usually placate anyone, almost anyone. "For one moment, may I be like any other elf my age?"
"Are your duties that much of a burden?" Thranduil snapped with an acrimonious undertone. "Shall I relieve you from some of them?"
"No, that is not what I meant. I just wonder if it is necessary for me to act like a prince every day of my life. Ada, I will never leave my post as your heir, but I need some distance." Legolas attempted to grip his father's hand in encouragement, but Thranduil pulled away.
"You are a prince. You are my son, a reflection of me, and I expect you to conduct yourself as such, not as some playmate to that neglectful boy, who turns away from his destiny. I fear it's him who has made you so indifferent. Does it give you joy to do this to your father? I provide the best guidance I can. I show you how to rule as kingdom as glorious as this, and you brush it over your shoulder."
"Ada, stop. This land is where my heart lies. My people have my soul, and with you is where I keep my trust. Goheno nin (forgive me)."
Aragorn frowned. Typically, it was very hard to get Legolas to back down in a disagreement. Now, he almost looked like a reprimanded child.
Thranduil crossed his arms, utterly dissatisfied with his son's answer. "Forgive you? That is rich. If you want my forgiveness, then you should start with sending that outcast ranger to whatever land from which he hails. He is not welcome with us."
This time, there was hurt in the prince's luminous blue eyes, which would have mirrored his father's if not for their warmth.
"Ada, he is the son of kings, a beacon of hope for Men. Any member of the Dúnedain should be welcome with the Elves, and you know this."
"Speak carefully," his father warned. Legolas cast his eyes to the ground, a gesture of defeat. "He will leave tomorrow morning, and then I will decide the best punishment for you."
"Would there be a purpose in trying to sway you otherwise?"
Thranduil laughed softly and raised his eyebrow. "What do you think?"
Legolas sighed. "I am tired."
"Ollo Vae (sleep well)."
Legolas passed Aragorn on the way to his chambers. His footsteps were unbelievably soft. Growing up in Rivendell, Aragorn learned the customs, the language, and the skills of the Elves, but he had nothing close to his friend's ease and grace.
Turning, the prince looked the ranger in the eye. "I am sorry, mellon nîn. I am sure that I can get him to change his mind once he has calmed down. My father has always been... difficult."
"Not necessary," Aragorn insisted. "Perhaps I can try."
"My father does not take to you."
"Does he not? Then, it should be quite interesting," he finished with a smirk.
Legolas smiled. "To think, all of this because we went riding. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
After he disappeared, Aragorn carefully approached Thranduil. The Elvenking took one look at him and scoffed. He had to have known that they had an audience.
"Are you here to plead your case?"
"No," he answered calmly. "I am here to plead his."
"Leave my son out of this. I will discipline him accordingly."
"Discipline? He needs no discipline. He needs your acceptance." Aragorn forgot himself. This was Thranduil's land, and he was being openly disrespectful. He did not know why, but the desire to defend Legolas burned deep within. His friend had known him back when he went by Estel. Other people treated him like he was some burden, given his heritage. But to Legolas, he may as well had been the crowned King of Gondor, treating him with the highest respect, defending him against any enemy. Aragorn would do the same for him, and against whom did not matter.
"I am his father, the only one teaching him right from wrong. I cannot show any weakness." Thranduil raised his chin to wait for Aragorn's response. His straight, silver-blond hair blew gently in the wind.
It moved the leaves on the trees as well, the sweet smell of the mid-summer's eve carrying life into the forest. The corruption of the sick Greenwood had not yet reached the halls of King Thranduil, and the beauty of old was just as great as it was ages ago.
"Showing him a bit of affection is no weakness."
"Mind your tongue, taur' ohtar (ranger)," the king warned. "I set an example for him."
"If you act so cold, you will do him no favor."
"I must be cold to him!" Thranduil snapped. He saw a slight jump in the young man, so he turned his back and continued more calmly. "My father, Oropher, was a very strong king. I have done well by my people for having the same strength, bending to no one. I am no fool; I see a weakness in my son."
"A weakness?"
"But it is no terrible weakness," Thranduil mused with a soft smile as he turned back. "He is kind... to all people of this land. He concerns himself with the well-being of every orphan and commoner. He is all I have now, since his mother passed. He is all I have had for a long time. When he was a child, he could always tell when I was troubled and he'd look at me with eyes completely gentle and innocent, and I could never deny him anything. It is hard for me to deny him even now. I was wrapped around his finger, and I know that I still am. I listen to him more than any of my advisers. These are Elves with lifetimes more experience than him, you understand."
"If this is true, then why do you not tell him any of it?" Aragorn inquired. He was certain that Legolas knew nothing of the sort, the way he acted around his father.
"Because, again, I have to be an example for him. You may think me cold, but I am practical. If I stay like this, neutral, then hopefully he will follow suit and not be so kind, so easily manipulated, when he rules."
Aragorn sighed, not expecting the king to confide in him so much. He would do his best to protect this confidence. "Do you wish that you could tell him this?"
"Every day of my life," Thranduil answered. "And I would tell him much more: that he is the reason I wake up every morning and rule this realm. I would tell him that he makes me prouder than any father in Middle-earth, that he is more precious than anything, a far better son than I deserve." Aragorn saw him put a finger to his cheek, perhaps wiping away a concealed tear, but he couldn't tell.
"My King, I do not-"
"You are welcome to stay here," Thranduil answered with patience. "Legolas must hear nothing of this. I hope that an honorable young man such as yourself can respect that."
Aragorn nodded. "I can."
"Mara Lom (goodnight)."
"To you, as well."
The Elvenking of the Woodland Realm began to walk toward the doors of his hall, leaving the heir of Gondor alone in the fading twilight.
See? Much better!
-TFJ96