Hi everyone! I know it's been awhile since i've updated, but things came up. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. My beta "Mistopurr" has been such a great help. She gave me the idea for the 'council' scene. She really made this chapter what it is, and without her, my writing would be terrible!
I am also getting sick again. To much stress at school...WHO HATES TAKS TESTS RAISE YOUR HAND (the whole universe of teenagers raises hands) Did you know that in some states they're trying to put the exit level TAKS test in colleges?? Yeah...i hate TAKS, so be nice and review...maybe it will make my week.
I would like to thank ALLLLLL off my reviewers...though they were few and far between..Lena, Le Pain Perdu, Gord and V, hawgirl04, Ampria, AnneathGreanleaf, TheStoryGypsy, lillypop, Jedi Padfoot, pixiespryte, kerigan, Janet, Rebellwithoutacause, and my one anymous reviewer.
Thank you guys so much, you all really made my day, and my week when your reviewes were kind and long. I hope i can keep you all with me through out the next chapters. THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING!! (and for those didn't review...i'll find out where you live.)
Also I put a song in here. It is sung by "Josh Groban" in the movie "Troy" I'm sure you all have heard of it before. I dont want to get this story deleted because i didn't give glory where glory was due.
ONE MORE THING. GO SEE THE NEW MOVIE 'AMAZING GRACE' CHECK OUT THE TRAILER!! The movie's AWESUME!!!!!!! It's about this guy who stops slavery in England. The story was directed and written by the same guys who wrote "Ray" with Jammie Fox. SO CHECK OUT THE "AMAZING GRACE" TRAILER!
Chapter 6
As the leader of the large patrol of Galadhrim warriors led the newcomers silently and efficiently through the leafy trails into the heart of Lothlorien, the golden trees of the forest waved their branches aside to allow unhindered passage for their new young friend and his companions. The group rode and rode for time uncountable, and Haldir's troubled mind rejected the need to stop, overwhelmed as it was with confused thoughts of the strange turn his day had taken and the tragic and fatal events which had led to it.
Just behind him on the trail, Legolas snuggled into his father, closing his eyes tightly in an attempt to forego the path of dreams onto which his weary mind threatened to step, but the battle he fought was not to be won. Only the gracefulness inborn into all Elves and the strong arms wrapped around his waist kept him from slipping from the horse as he slept. The owner of those arms would not sleep. His own mind dwelt deep in memories of the past. Every second that passed brought a new image of his lost wife; every moment gave him a new recollection.
Pain welled up inside of him, a pain that made him swallow in agony. All he wanted was to join her, to hold her once more, but the small bundle of joy asleep in his arms held him back from taking a final journey. He could not leave Legolas, not alone in the vastness of Arda. If his young child was all there was to live for, then so be it. He would live.
The Elven company rode along in silence; conversation had ceased between them long since, returning to life only when one soldier quietly took direction from one of his peers. Thranduil glanced down as Legolas shifted in sleep, searching for a new position.
Sensing the movement, their horse shook his mane unhappily, as though aware that something was wrong. The slumbering child shifted again. In a second, the horse came to a halt in the middle of the path and began to slowly lower himself to the ground. Foreseeing the strange behavior, Thranduil dismounted with his son, and watched the display with an arched eyebrow.
"By the Valar, what…?"
"Have we stopped yet, Ada?" a sleepy voice questioned.
Some paces on, Haldir turned his own mount around and returned to the Elves from Greenwood. A small smile touched his lips, but his spoke formally. "Sir, we have much of the journey left before us."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed, annoyance and weariness entering his own voice as he snapped a reply. "Tell it to the horse, Haldir."
Upon seeing the crafty animal halt the company for its masters, Aramas had dismounted and set about preparing a sleeping ground for his tired friends before the Galadhrim could hurry them on again. He received a grateful smile from Thranduil, who promptly fell with feline grace upon the bedding, pulling his child down with him. Legolas let his gaze travel over the Elves around them, and was asleep against his father's chest almost before the muttered apology left his lips. The immortals of Lórien chuckled quietly, though some remained silent as they contemplated what had befallen the two to sap them of such strength.
The journey was not continued until the next day, much to the chagrin of Haldir. It was not until the twilight hues of evening began to fall that they reached the very heart of Lothlorien, where Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had their home. Whispers from the trees were numerous as they breathed welcome to Legolas, and though his eyes were still heavy, he stayed wide-awake, excitement filling him at the prospect of hearing their songs once more.
"Welcome, young one. We are glad you can hear our voices," some sang.
"We have many things to tell you." Some began to whisper of the people he was soon to meet. "Lady Galadriel is very kind; she has seen the pain in your heart and your father's too. Do not fear; she will help you to overcome it, just as we will. We will tell you of the many things to come, do not be afraid to voice them to your father. Many things are happening in Arda, young one… Listen when your Ada speaks, and obey."
"The other tree told me that too," Legolas replied silently.
"That was the guard of the woods, the wisest of us all. We are glad you met her."
Before the child could ask more questions, Haldir dismounted before the largest tree Legolas had seen in his immortal life, and his wide blue eyes followed a thick trunk hundreds of feet into the air before they reached the apex of the golden-topped beauty. He expected the tree's voice to be a giant rumble, but only a whisper touched his ears, so soft that even he had to strain to hear the song vibrating gently in his mind. It was beautiful, unlike anything he had heard even amongst the mallorn trees.
It started off low, before rising higher and higher with each passing note, but still it remained soft, melancholy. To Legolas it made him return to the death of his mother. The song was a melody of mourning. The trees began to join together in a cacophony, one that the listening child would one day take and re-write to play when he was much older.
"Remember, I will still be here Remember, when your dreams have ended I am the one star that keeps burning, so brightly, I'm with you Remember, I will still be here I am the one voice in the cold wind, that whispers As long as I still can reach out, and touch you Remember, I'll never leave you Remember me... Remember, I will still be here Remember, when your dreams have ended Remember me
As long as you hold me, in your memory
Time can be transcended
Just remember me
It is the last light, to fade into the rising sun
Whenever you tell, my story
As long as you hold me, in your memory
Remember me
And if you listen, you'll hear me call across the sky
Then I will never die
If you will only
Remember me
As long as you hold me
In your memory
Time can be transcended
I live forever
Remember me
Remember... me..."
Though his heart felt like breaking once more into a million pieces, Legolas did not cry. He kept the words locked securely in his heart, playing them over and over again, drawing strength from their meaning and letting himself do as the song had demanded and remember his mother before Oropher had come and. Just as red liquid began to fill his past vision, rising voices cut into his reverie. His father and Haldir were arguing some way away, and he felt a sudden jolt of anger at them for pulling his attention. Their quarrel was meaningless. He cared not whether they met with the Lord and Lady now or waited another day. It was trivial to him.
With a soft sigh, Legolas forced himself to block out the song of the trees, letting it become nothing more than a distantly felt murmur in the back of his mind.
Soon after arriving in the heart of Lothlorien, it was alone that the unwilling heir to the throne of Greenwood the Great ascended the curving steps around a great and golden mallorn tree. Haldir had suggested that Legolas be put under the supervision of Lady Celebrían's former minder whilst his father met with Celeborn and Galadriel; Thranduil had acquiesced purely because the child's need for rest was dire. Since the events in his home and the sudden loss of his wife, he found that being apart from their son tore at his heart as it never had done before.
Though he had walked with no guide since leaving Legolas, Thranduil knew the way to the meeting chambers well, despite visiting the Golden Wood only during treaties and when politics demanded it. His memory served him well. He never forgot a face or path, and certainly not these stairs. Indeed, as he climbed and climbed upwards, images from the past came back to him, recollections that he held dear, though they were so often overshadowed by darkness. There was little in his past that he wished to remember.
Flash Back
The strange steps passed slowly underneath his feet as he climbed them to the top of the mallorn tree, and Thranduil kept his eyes fixed unwaveringly on his path. At home as he was amongst the trees, they had no such stairs back in Greenwood, and this experience was a new one. At his side was Oropher, garbed from pointed ears to toes in nothing less than the King's finest clothes, as he was too. He could not help but pick at the fine silk of his tunic, and grimace at its touch. He hated all of this unnecessary ceremony.
"Thranduil…"
The Prince started at his name, and turned wide eyes upon the older immortal. A strong hand came down to rest on his shoulder. He would never admit it, but that hand frightened him. "Yes, Adar?"
"They are not to be trusted. Don't ever trust these…Elves," Oropher said quietly. It was not advice he gave, but a command. "They can only deceive you, bring pain and suffering to our people."
"Yes, Adar," Thranduil repeated obediently.
He would have liked to say 'ada', but ever since early childhood, protocol and his father's lack of warmth dictated otherwise. He continued to trail the King up the stairs, and released a silent sigh. They rarely spoke much. He knew that Oropher harbored only bitterness towards him. All he wanted was to know he was loved, but it was said he had killed his mother by being born which had brought about the darkness within the Greenwood ruler. It wasn't true; it couldn't be. He would never wish to bring harm upon one who would love him, unlike his surviving parent.
"Straighten your shoulders, Thranduil," Oropher said icily, ordering him as though he was nothing more than a servant. The Prince immediately obeyed, and lifted his head too in an attempt to halt any further commands before they came. He would do everything possible to make his father love him. Everything.
End Flash Back
Thranduil blinked in surprise as he reached the doors of the council chamber, and let the memory return to where it should have stayed, secure in the deep recesses of his mind. He remembered that evening well. He had met Lady Galadriel for the first time, along with her husband and King Amdír. He could not help but smile slightly as he recalled how kind the Lady of Lórien had been to him that night. For the first time in his life, he had felt as though he had a mother. But inevitably, Oropher had disapproved and taken…steps to ensure it did not happen again.
Taking a deep breath, Thranduil unconsciously straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. He did not realize he had done so until after he entered the chambers, and he silently cursed himself for letting the memory influence him as he walked towards Galadriel and Celeborn. They sat regally upon the dual throne occupied at other times by the King of Lothlorien. The Greenwood Prince had no qualms about their positions; he only prayed to the Valar that they would be as kind as the last time he had come. The thrones were set upon a platform. Three steps climbed up to it.
'Just like them. More stairs.'
The thrones were deceptively simple chairs, but the backs were inlaid with intricate patterns of silver mithril. Behind those seats of power was a great window looking out over the forest of Lórien and reflecting the midnight blue of the night sky and making the thrones and their occupants seem to glow. Thranduil bowed low before them, covering his heart with one hand. As he straightened, he did not raise his eyes, keeping them lowered to the foot of the platform out of respect for the noble Elves before him.
"Why have you come?" Celeborn asked suddenly. His voice had changed since Thranduil had last heard him, and his heart sank. It was colder, lordlier. Almost treating him as something far beneath his station, as another Elf had so often done to him. If the wellbeing of his son did not depend on this meeting, he would have left, he knew. "Well? Why have you come?"
"Hír-nín, Híril-nín, I have come for protection, for me… and my son."
At the admission that he needed their help, Thranduil's strong pride began to ache. In front of him, Celeborn shifted upon the thrown, unable to hide his surprise, but Galadriel was still, staring quietly. The trio of Elves remained silent, each in their own thoughts and memories, and it was Celeborn again who broke that tangible quiescence. "You must tell us the tale." His voice was emotionless, and Thranduil suddenly found himself wanting to strike him. He would not let a stranger, lord or not, order him to give an explanation.
"I will not," he said stubbornly, and broke protocol as he caught their gazes. His eyes burned with cold fire. If they wanted to treat him like dirt, he held no more respect for them.
"If you wish to stay, you will tell us the story," Celeborn flared.
"And if you respect and trust me as all the treaties that you signed with my people say, then you will not ask such personal questions." Thranduil's voice rose, his anger with it.
"Peace," Galadriel spoke softly, her sapphire pools understanding. "I have seen the events of your past, but alas, I was unable to stop them." She lowered her eyes in contemplation. "Your son… What is his name?"
"Legolas."
"Aptly named for a Wood-elf," Galadriel smiled. "You need him as much as he needs you, is that not so? Yes… Protection is granted, but we in turn require aid from you."
Thranduil nodded – he knew he would not be allowed to have something without giving something away – and watched as Celeborn rose gracefully from his throne, his silver robes following his every movement. "Ask what you will of me," he said quietly.
"You must help us in this war against Sauron." The older Elf's voice was less formal than before, and he gave a soft smile as his guest tried to hide a shudder at the accursed name. "Whether you are aware of this or not, several hundreds of warriors and their families have come here…from Greenwood. They have fled your father; they disagree with his methods of ruling, as well as his techniques of punishment. They need a leader."
"I will start no colony," Thranduil broke in, his already inflamed temper rising. "I have a young son."
"That was not asked of you," Celeborn replied quietly. "Should the time come, we would have you lead them into battle."
The Prince looked away, and shook his head just once. "No. Hir-nín, I will not leave my child, no matter what comes to pass."
"You either fight to protect him, or he and the rest of Arda is lost…"
As the angry words washed over him, Thranduil bit the inside of his cheek in quiet annoyance. They expected him to make a decision then and there, but he could not. He would not! Valar, he could barely think straight enough to plan the rest of the night, let alone choose to change the destiny of Middle-earth itself. He wanted to snap, but diplomatic training held him in check.
"You will decide when the time comes," Galadriel intoned solemnly. "Until then, take care of your son. Go to him now. You need rest as well as he."
Thranduil glanced at Celeborn failing to hide the look of irritation upon his face, and concealed a smile of his own with a bow. When he left the chambers, Aramas was waiting for him outside the doors. "Legolas?"
"Asleep. It was not that bad inside, was it?" the soldier asked plaintively.
"No, Aramas. I don't suppose it was. I think that I can trust them." Thranduil laughed quietly, and looked back at the doors. "For now."
Hidden inside the chambers, Celeborn's glare had not lessened, though his wife matched it easily. "He was tired," she chided frostily. "You should not have been so bold as to expect him to make a decision at that very moment."
"That is not why I am angry, and you know it. Why did you not speak to me when you saw what happened in Greenwood? You left me looking a complete fool," Celeborn sighed. "Not to mention how insulted our new guest must have felt."
"His story is a sad one, and I fear his son is not young enough to forget it." With a sad exhalation of breath, Galadriel began the tale, a word for word account of all that had passed beneath the eaves of Greenwood the Great not so long ago.
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