Part 2 – The Son's Remorse

Several hours after having taken leave of his father, and paying an extremely short visit to the healers, Legolas slowly made his way among the tangled corpses that lay strewn across the southern slopes of the mountain, meticulously searching for any elven arrow that was salvageable. Indeed, many of the archers from Mirkwood were engaged in the same task; their tall forms moving silently through each section of the battlefield with their normally merry expressions transformed to ones of restrained grief as other members of their kin continued to remove the bodies of their dead and wounded. Not having been present for the entirety of the battle, Legolas had been unaware of the heavy losses suffered by his father's army and it was only now as he watched each discovered body be taken away that he was confronted with the tragic reality.

'That is surely a jest, but a very poor one.'

'Indeed, no elf of the Woodland Realm would ever commit such a heinous act. We are none of us one of the Noldor.'

'Faeron saw it with his own eyes; she not only drew her weapon against another elf, but an elf who was her own king.'

His movements frozen to complete stillness by the hushed words, Legolas remained crouched behind a large rock, his body hidden from the group of elves gathered at the foot of the mountain and his hand clasped around the arrow shaft protruding from the body of the dead giant bat in front of him. Who had dared to threaten his father?

'Surely her mind was affected by some evil spell performed by the follower of Sauron at Dol Guldur? Not since the time of the kinslayings has an elf threatened the life of another. Why would she do such a thing?'

'Apparently Tauriel believed sending aid to the naugrim, and thus weakening our force against an overwhelming enemy, to be of greater importance than defending our designated position and keeping our strength unified. By threatening him I believe she thought she could make King Thranduil obey her demands.' The disbelief in the elf's voice clearly conveyed his own shock at Tauriel's actions. 'She then accused our king, her king, of being unfeeling and lacking in all compassion when he was forced to make the decision to fallback. Our king has little love for the race whose members betrayed and slew his father's friend, King Thingol of Doriath, but this would not stop him from lending assistance had it been possible to provide it. After all, he did go to the dwarves aid when he first heard that Smaug had attacked the mountain and the city of Dale; but by the time he was able to arrive the dragon was already in control of the mountain, Dale was in ruins and there was not much that could have been done that would not have ended with a significant and needless waste of life. The most he was able to do was supply food and medicinal assistance to the survivors.'

'Yesterday he did give the order to advance after the eagles came,' another voice inserted quietly. 'My brother was one of those sent to deliver the message to our group. He was killed after we had advanced but a short distance.'

'Aye,' a sad voice reflected, 'even with the aid of the eagles our numbers were too few against Sauron's filth.'

A solemn silence descended and Legolas, whose still form had remained undetected by the group of elves and whose mind was reeling at the revelation about Tauriel, prepared to retreat as quietly as he had arrived when a voice asked a question that caused any thought of leaving to disappear.

'How is our king faring?'

A proud, good-natured sound of amusement softly escaped one of the elves before they said, 'he survived the battle with ne'er a single injury to slow him down.'

'Indeed, he displayed all his usual prowess and grace in battle, despite not having taken part in one for many centuries. Those small skirmishes with the spiders when he goes out hunting must help keep his skills fresh.'

'That was not what I meant,' the voice that asked the original question interjected. 'I am aware of his physical health; we all would have been informed had he been injured. I referred to how he is coping with our losses and his missing son. When last I spoke to any in his entourage he had not been able to locate Prince Legolas, despite scouring nearly every inch of the battlefield for him.'

'According to Arthion who spoke with Eraisuithan, Prince Legolas found his father a few hours ago. He would not say much of what happened, only that King Thranduil behaved in the manner of any father who was reunited with their much loved child.'

'I am pleased for our king's sake that one worry has been lifted from his mind,' another elf said. 'Hopefully his son's presence may give him some comfort as he grieves for those that were lost.'

His eyes closing as he listened, Legolas realised with growing shame that he had not once considered his father's feelings when he announced his decision to leave. Whilst he had lost a number of dear friends he knew his father would feel deeply the loss of every elf life as he regarded all who lived within his realm as being under his protection. To have his own son leave him to face such sorrow alone must have pained his father immensely.

'I had heard that he followed after Prince Legolas alone when he went with Tauriel to aid the naugrim. The prince is fortunate he did not meet the same fate as she, and thankfully we are spared the pain of watching our king succumbing to his grief.'

'It could not have been easy for him, to watch as his son followed Tauriel into that bloodbath, especially after he had given the order for everyone to pull back to the mountain.'

A dreadful silence greeted this statement. Then, a voice that Legolas recognised as belonging to Rainion, one of the eldest of the Sindar elves in their kingdom and a close friend of his father, said with a note of deep pain, 'I had hoped to never again see such an expression in his eyes. It spoke of a sorrow and dread that no word of comfort or healing could ever alleviate. A grief that is beyond tears. Each time I have seen that look in the king's eyes they have become more remote, as though he would distance himself for the next time he needs face such pain again. It grieves my heart when I think of him as he was in Beleriand, before the first innocence fell from his eyes.'

'He was not then always as he is now? Suspicious of strangers and wary of all who enter the forest?'

'There was a time when he was more merry than the most light-hearted child. His singing was sweeter than that of the prince and there was none that he met that he did not greet with friendship.'

'Indeed he still did treat the dwarves with kindness when first he had them brought before him,' one elf commented. 'He had us release them from their bonds but their ill-manners and surly attitude when he questioned them was such that he had us gaol them along with their leader, Thorin, who also had refused to answer his just questions as to their identities and purpose for travelling through his realm.'

'Rainion, you said he sang but despite his being one of the Sindar I do not believe I have ever heard him sing.'

'Being only young, Beiniel, you would not. After lamenting the loss of his father and so many of our kin on the plains of Dagorlad, our king's singing voice was silenced for the first time, and remained that way until the birth of his son. All of us who were residing in his realm at the time will never forget the moment when his joyous singing was heard throughout the halls and forest once again. The Queen once told me that all it took was one look at his newborn son and it was as though the shackle of grief on his tongue was finally shattered. Unfortunately that happiness did not remain. The last time our king ever sang was when he farewelled his queen after she was slain; although, with the shroud of sorrow so heavy about him, I firmly believe he was only able to do it because the prince asked it of him.'

At Rainion's last words a memory from his early past arose in Legolas' mind: of his small hand clasping onto his father's robes as he stared up into the Elvenking's tortured eyes and pleaded for him to sing the lament for his mother; the gentle touch of his father's hand on his head as he softly agreed, even as the overwhelming sadness at the loss of his wife continued to envelop him. The elf-prince closed his eyes as the next memory naturally followed; the image of his father standing beside him, his strong hand engulfing Legolas' much smaller one, as his warm voice sang the haunting words of farewell.

'There is not much he would not do for his son,' Rainion continued quietly. 'Being an only child, Prince Legolas enjoys the full devotion and affection of his father, especially as he is the sole member of the king's immediate family here on Middle Earth.'

'I had heard that it was only due to the prince's intercession that Tauriel was made Captain of the Guard.' The quiet voice of the elf whose brother had been killed held no malice, just calm reflection. 'I know that there were some who refused to believe the news when it first began to spread.'

'With good reason,' came the swift reply. 'When the last Captain of the Guard had to resign his post due to his injuries after that encounter with the spiders, many of us, myself included, knew the king was considering giving the position to one of those who had fought beside him in the past or Eraisuithan's son, Calanon, who had proved himself to be a mature and courageous warrior. Therefore it was quite a shock when it was announced that he had appointed a young elf who had only recently passed her six hundredth year, had no real battle experience and who possessed little control over her inclination to do as she pleased without due regard for the welfare of her fellow elves.'

'So the prince actually did petition his father to appoint Tauriel as captain? Why would he do such a thing?'

'According to King Thranduil, his son believed that she should be given a chance as her fighting skills were quite impressive. Knowing his son's kindness, King Thranduil also suspected that given Tauriel's past his son wanted her to find a position of some importance so she would feel appreciated.'

'I would not wish to speak ill of one who has fallen but she certainly did not repay his kindness very well. She was often heard complaining that he hid us away from the light and he physically did little to protect his kingdom. Not to mention the times she accused him of looking down on "lowly Silvan elves" as she put it.'

'She really thought he looks down on Silvan elves?' The incredulous tone in the elf's voice informed his listeners that he found the very idea outrageous. 'King Thranduil, and his father before him, did everything they could to integrate themselves with us. Why even the prince's name was bestowed upon him in the Silvan dialect by the king himself.'

His heart too wounded to listen to anymore of the conversation, Legolas silently retreated, the arrow he had been retrieving left embedded in the giant bat's corpse. He had never known his friend had thought or even dared to say such things about his father. Whilst it was true his father was wary of outsiders and preferred to protect his people by withdrawing them from the threat of wild men and dwarves, he did everything he possibly could to ensure his people could live happily (the number of feasts out in the forest clearly proved that!). He also knew his father was ever concerned about the evil arising again from Mordor; having little trust in the strength and vigilance of the men set to guard against such a calamity. As for physically protecting his kingdom, although his father now only went out occasionally with the hunting parties, Legolas could recall memories from his earliest years when his father would regularly lead the patrols into the forest. His mother had once revealed that his father had sworn to do this until such time as the number of elves had significantly increased after their losses at Dagorlad and he could dedicate himself to the more 'mundane' duties of a king.

'And it was her.' The pained whisper escaped the elf-prince's lips as he slowly sank down onto the ground. 'She's the one who threatened him.' Bowing his head, Legolas stared blankly at the rocky surface below him. 'Why didn't he tell me?'

When he had reached them on the battlefield he had only seen his father confronting Tauriel; the Elvenking's sharp, challenging words causing his son to immediately leap to his young friend's defence.

'I never even thought to ask why he'd say something like that during a battle, and then to leave him to face our people's grief alone without a single consideration for his wellbeing, what does that indicate about myself?'

His mind now clouded with uncertainty, Legolas wondered if he could in good conscience continue to proceed with his original intention to depart and consequently leave his bereaved father alone. The more he considered the question the greater his conviction grew that to abandon his parent now would be one of the most selfish acts he had ever committed. Not once in all his long years had his father ever asked him to give up anything important, and even now, when having his only son leave him must surely bring great pain to his heart, his father still refused to put his own feelings and wishes ahead of his son's.

'I cannot allow him to bear this sorrow in solitude. I must return.'

His fair features set in an expression of grim determination, Legolas swiftly began to descend the mountain once again; his fleet form a mere blur to normal eyes as he hastily made his way down the lower slopes.

A short distance from the foot of the mountain, the elf-prince spied a grey-clad figure resting wearily against a large rock, their old eyes staring unseeingly at the carnage that still lay upon the battlefield in the valley.

'Mithrandir!'

Looking up at the sound of the light voice, the white-haired wizard permitted a small smile to appear behind his beard.

'Legolas Greenleaf, I do believe you grow taller every time I see you.' Gazing up into the elf's face, Gandalf's smile quickly faded as he observed the normally merry features now cast in a look eerily similar to that of the prince's father when he was most disturbed. 'What has happened?'

Completely disregarding the wizard's concerned question, Legolas demanded urgently, 'do you know where I may find my father?'

His brow furrowing in thought, Gandalf replied slowly, 'I do not recall seeing him again after he finished conversing with Thorin, I am afraid my attention was focused on finding the last member of Thorin's company. However, I understand that your people have started moving their fallen to a burial ground on the south-western plains of Dale so you may find your father there.'

'You have my thanks, Mithrandir.' With a brief gesture of farewell and respectful inclination of his head, Legolas turned and quickly started his way through the valley toward Dale. It was not long before his sharp ears caught the sound of elf voices in the far distance. Unlike before at the foot of the mountain, when the few elf voices were lowered to a hushed whisper, these voices were raised in song; but it was not a merry, cheerful song, instead the sound was that of hearts crying out in sorrow.

'A Elbereth Gilthoniel,

o menel palan-diriel,

le nallon sí di'nguruthos!

A tiro nin, Fanuilos!'

His feet carrying him swiftly toward the voices, Legolas' pace slowed as he drew nearer to the source; but as his eyes alighted on the sight spreading out before him, he came to a complete stop.

Over a vast expanse of ground, amidst the foul piles of their enemies' burnt remains, lay the still bodies of the fallen elves, their number continuing to increase as more were brought from other parts of the battlefield; and there, his tall form moving with tireless grace as he solemnly knelt down on one knee to close the eyes of each warrior, whilst his fair voice sang out their name before repeating the hymn to Elbereth, was the Elvenking.

His stunned gaze fixed upon his father, Legolas was only vaguely aware of the men and dwarves scattered across the battlefield who paused in their task of removing their dead and wounded to listen; their grieved hearts seeming to find some solace in the elven song, despite not understanding the words. His own heart aching with sadness, Legolas felt the sound of his father's singing wash over him; the beautiful voice that had been silent for so long enveloping him in its warmth once again, evoking memories of a time when his father was the centre of his world and just hearing him sing was enough to soothe any youthful fears.

Many an hour then passed with Thranduil continuing to lead his people in singing over the bodies of the slain before they were removed to the burial ground; the constant flow of calming tones bringing a more peaceful, albeit sorrowful, resonance to the place that only a day prior had rung with the screams of battle. As he watched the last of the elf bodies be taken away and heard his father sing the hymn to Elbereth one final time, Legolas slowly began to walk forward, his concerned gaze noting the small signs of strain just beginning to show around his father's eyes.

'I hope I never live long enough to ever again hear such sadness in the voices of elves.'

The small, dejected voice certainly did not belong to any elf, nor to any dwarf. His attention momentarily diverted, Legolas looked over at a little figure seated on the ground, whose red-rimmed eyes and hoarse voice bespoke of recent grief and a heavy bout of weeping.

'This has been a bad, miserable business. All those merry elves that will now lie beneath the cold ground with the brave Lake-men and fierce dwarves; they did not deserve such a fate. Alas, poor Thorin and Fili and Kili, my dear friends and companions, who will never again see the sun shine upon their home. I would old Smaug still slept on the wretched treasure and all those elves, men and dwarves who died be back among us. You are a fool, Bilbo Baggins, who should never have left his hobbit-hole.'

His gentled eyes filling with compassion, Legolas silently watched as the hobbit wiped at his eyes and sniffed loudly. Still oblivious of the fact that he had an attentive listener, Bilbo released a dejected sigh and huddled deeper under the blanket around his shoulders.

'Those foolish songs of home were quite misleading. There is nothing glorious about these battles; there is only ruin and misery. The Elvenking said I was worthy of wearing the armour of elf-princes but I do not think that is true; I certainly was not of much use to him during the fighting. Oh, how I miss my garden and the peaceful green hills of the Shire. I am grown so weary of this adventure and long only to see the familiar lights of Bag End once more and see all my dear friends and family. Well, perhaps not those Sackville-Bagginses,' he admitted honestly, before saying with a deep yearning, 'I just want to be home again.'

Despite wanting to go immediately to his father's side, Legolas found he could not leave the little one alone in his misery without first offering some words of comfort. His feet treading silently upon the ground, he quietly approached the unhappy Bilbo and remarked softly, 'you are possessed of a good heart, Master Baggins.'

A faint squeak escaping his lips, Bilbo jerked in surprise before turning startled eyes toward the elf's face that lay a great height above his own. Strangely, Legolas thought he saw a glint of recognition flash through the hobbit's eyes although he was certain that they had never before met.

'My Lord Elf!' Scrambling to his feet, Bilbo performed a quick, courteous bow; the hasty movement causing him to wobble rather precariously.

'Be calm, my friend.'

Crouching down, Legolas reached out and steadied Bilbo with one hand. Despite the elf's lowered stance, Bilbo found he still had to gaze up a fair distance at the face above him.

'And do not doubt your worth,' Legolas continued gently. 'I have overheard the stories of your actions; of when you sought to prevent an outbreak of war by delivering the Arkenstone to Bard, and now your grief for those who have died, though none were kith or kin to you. Both speak clearly of your kind and noble spirit. When my father declared you worthy of an elf-prince's armour it was this quality he would have been acknowledging, not any display of physical prowess on the battlefield that could also be performed by one of the enemy.'

Resting his hand briefly on the hobbit's shoulder, Legolas gave a small smile. 'Take heart Master Baggins and do not fret over wanting to return home. Even those of us who have lived to see many a grand oak grow and die, often find ourselves longing for what is familiar when we feel troubled or saddened.'

Then rising up to his full height, Legolas inclined his head in farewell. 'May all the blessings of the Valar go with you, Bilbo Baggins, and until we meet again may the stars always shine upon you.'

As he recommenced making his way toward his father with Bilbo's own words of parting sounding out behind him, Legolas frowned upon seeing the elf who had treated his own minor wound in one of the healers tents quickly approach the Elvenking with a grim expression. The conversation that followed ended abruptly when Thranduil turned sharply and swiftly made his way toward the elven camp.

His own stride increasing in length as he hurried after his father, Legolas was still some distance away when he saw the tall, golden-haired elf enter one of the larger tents. It was not long before his keen hearing caught the sound of his father's voice and that of Handir; the most experienced healer in the woodland realm.

'My King, I am truly sorry. By the time he was found and brought to me there was nothing I could do to save him. I sent for you almost the instant he arrived, but his spirit lingered on for only one short moment.'

'What of Belegorn his grandson?'

'He has been assisting in retrieving the wounded. He does not yet know.'

There was a small pause and then Thranduil's voice, steeled against the grim task, said quietly, 'I will take the responsibility of informing him.'

Legolas did not have to see his father to know that his expression would have transformed into one of rigid resolve.

'But My King, surely I could do that?' Handir's voice protested. 'You have not rested since long before the battle.'

'Eglerion was one of the last of my closest friends who remained here on Middle Earth, and his son died whilst saving my life during the battle at Dagorlad. I cannot in good conscience permit any other to give Belegorn this news. Please send word to have him come here.'

'As you command, My King.'

Upon exiting the tent the elf-healer paused upon seeing Legolas' still form standing a short distance away. Beckoning the elf forward, Legolas waited until Handir was close beside him before he murmured quietly, 'I will remain with my father.'

Immediately understanding the unspoken implication that his presence would not be required once Belegorn arrived, Handir nodded silently and continued on his way.

Soundlessly approaching the tent, Legolas reached out to part the drapes covering the entrance when, through a small gap in the fabric, he saw his father kneeling beside the still figure laid out before him. In all his long life, Legolas could not recall ever seeing his father in so humble a position.

'I shall miss your wise counsel, Eglerion.' The Elvenking's softly spoken words were barely audible, even to Legolas' keen elf-ears. 'Oft-times your sage advice and encouragement helped me make the right decision in a difficult situation, especially during the moments when grief clouded my judgement. Your loyalty to my father and to myself I shall not forget.'

His silent form remaining undetected at the entrance, Legolas watched as Thranduil slowly lowered his head, the movement sending his long hair falling over his shoulders like a golden curtain. 'May Elbereth guide you safely to the Halls of Mandos and through her blessings may your spirit remain there but a brief moment. Farewell, dear friend.'

Reacting instinctively to the pain he heard in his father's voice, Legolas stepped through the tent's entrance; the drapes parting and falling back into place with a soft whisper of sound.

'I gave none permission to enter.'

Undeterred by the stern words, Legolas walked over to where the Elvenking remained rigidly still, his back dismissively turned toward any who would intrude upon his private grieving, and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

'It is I, Father.'

Completely taken aback by the sound of his son's voice, Thranduil turned toward him with startled eyes, and Legolas found himself in the rare position of looking down into his father's face.

'Legolas.'

With a pang in his heart, Legolas observed the surprised joy that lit his father's eyes. Even after the pain he surely must have inflicted on him, his father only gave every sign of being happy to see him.

Rising slowly to his feet, Thranduil straightened to his full height and turned to face his son directly. Although the joy in his eyes remained, a soft, quizzical expression appeared as he gazed down into Legolas' upturned face.

'I did not expect to see you again so soon.'

His troubled conscience further stirred by this reminder of his earlier intentions, Legolas regarded his parent with solemn eyes.

'I am sorry, Father.'

Tilting his head slightly to the side, Thranduil considered his son with a bewildered look. 'Why? What have you done?'

'Through my actions and words over these past two days I have hurt you deeply,' Legolas confessed.

Thranduil silently looked down at his only child for a moment; then, a deep sigh escaping his lips, he turned and led him toward the side of the tent farthest away from Eglerion's body. 'Who has been speaking to you?'

'No one.' One raised sceptical eyebrow from his father and Legolas went on to admit, 'although I may have overheard a conversation between some of our people.'

'Given the nature of what was obviously discussed, I would sincerely hope it wasn't between some of the dwarves,' Thranduil commented dryly.

'Father, please do not make light of this,' Legolas pleaded. 'I was so focused on my own pain I had not given a single thought to yours until I heard some of our people talking. I am ashamed to think that others not of our blood were before me in acknowledging your grief.'

'Legolas –'

'And to also learn of Tauriel's words and deeds against you during the battle,' the elf-prince continued, 'to discover that she had again betrayed your trust and threatened your life when it was I who requested you appoint her as Captain of the Guard, and then for me to say what I did and abandon your side –'

'Legolas!'

Startled by the sharp, rebuking tone in his father's voice, Legolas fell silent.

Seeing that he had finally obtained his son's attention, the Elvenking's voice regained its more mellow tone as he said, 'firstly, while I will admit to being disappointed, and indeed, quite infuriated, by her actions, I do not hold you responsible or accountable for Tauriel's choices. We each must forge our own path and she chose hers quite freely. As for making her Captain of the Guard, the ultimate responsibility for that decision lies with me and your recommendation of her for the position was not without merit and was done with the purest of intentions.'

'But Father, what of my own –'

Halting his son's words with one uplifted hand, Thranduil informed him quietly, 'if you were to ask was I hurt by your own words and actions, my honest answer would have to be in the affirmative; however, I cannot hold them against you, Legolas, arising as they did from concern for your friend and not a deliberate, malicious intent.'

'You may not hold them against me, Father, but I cannot pretend that I do not now regret them, especially with the knowledge that my actions led to you risking yourself to follow after me.'

'A decision I made of my own free will,' Thranduil pointed out firmly, 'and one which I will never consider an ill-choice.'

'I am still sorry that I put you in that position,' Legolas said, 'and that I caused you so much worry after the battle by not immediately sending word to you that I had survived.'

His ancient eyes glimmering with compassion, Thranduil gave a small, understanding smile. 'We all are capable of forgetting many things when our minds and hearts are heavy with grief, and while sometimes that may result in bad decisions being made, you have done nothing for which you should feel ashamed.'

'Apart from deciding to leave you alone and surrounded by our people's grief when you returned home.'

'It would not have been my first time dealing with such an experience,' Thranduil reminded him quietly, 'but you have never before had to confront the loss of so great a multitude of our people. It is therefore understandable that you would desire to leave and find a place of quiet refuge and tranquillity.'

'I will no longer be leaving, Father,' Legolas revealed with firm resolution, looking directly into his father's eyes. 'I have chosen to remain with you.'

'My son, there is no need –'

'Father, my choice is made and I will not alter it. I will return with you to Mirkwood. The pain for the loss of my friends may be sharpened by memories evoked by familiar surroundings; however, I would rather suffer an age of that than the anguish of knowing that I had left you to bear the weight of our peoples' sorrow alone.'

A silent moment passed as Thranduil regarded his son's determined face. Finally, a soft sigh escaped his lips. 'You remind me so much of your mother. You may have received many of your physical traits from me, but your gentle heart you certainly did not.'

The last remark was said with such a self-deprecating look that Legolas almost smiled.

'You are still capable of great kindness, Father, and it is not without reason that our people call you our greatest king.'

His expression displaying no sign of gratification at his son's words, the Elvenking's face darkened as he looked over to where Eglerion's body lay in the stillness of death.

'I wonder,' he murmured solemnly, 'can anyone truly deserve that appellation of greatness.'

The soft voices of an approaching pair of elves prevented any reply Legolas may have made; but as the voices drew closer to the tent and he watched his father mentally prepare himself to deliver the grim news of Eglerion's passing to the elf's grandson, he reflected that his father was answering his own question with his actions.


Author's Note:

Rough translation of the hymn to Elbereth as it appeared in Chapter 10 of The Two Towers and as sung by Thranduil and the elves in this story:

O Elbereth Starkindler,

from heaven gazing afar,

to thee I cry now beneath the shadow of death!

O look towards me, Everwhite!