(((I figure this is how a single-father with as much on his shoulders as Thranduil would behave, denying an afterlife and being angry at the thought of his wife's death particularly since despite my other fiction, he probably had to mourn alone since the other elves did not acknowledge his sovereignty and saw him as a 'lesser' creature hence not including him in the White Council. I also thought adding the owl character will give you something incredible to see in the next few chapters! *Methostra is an Elvish word I created using their runic symbols and phonetics to create the term 'night owl'.)))
Chapter 7: Howling and Night Wings
It had been precisely two days since Radagast had come to see about Thranduil's acquisition and Legolas' new fascination and self-proclaimed sister. Suffice to say that while the thought of Legolas being so enamored and excited by the care of another creature did please the Elvenking, it distressed him that it was a dragon and a dragon who was clearly unaware of her own dragonspell. In fact, the others seemed oblivious to the fact that the creature was using it's powers even in part, over them. Still, at least he trusted the resolve of his son and the magic of the wizard to protect them from any mischief the dragon might create. Isilme stayed in one of three places; the firm embrace of Thranduil, draped over his arm, the proud perch on Thranduil's shoulder once more emphasizing his crown's resemblance to a crest, or the loving and gentle embrace of Legolas who usually found her lying belly up and purring like a kitten as he stroked and whispered to her. Part of Thranduil filled with joy at the sight of such tenderness, being reminded of his son first adopting a hound that lasted a total of fifteen years in his care, but the other part remembered not only the heartache in his young son's demeanor at burying the poor cur as well as the wrath and ruin of dragon fire. The later swirled anxiously in the back of his mind like nothing else.
Isilme had given up allowing Radagast to handle her once Legolas had been introduced and now seemed to prefer the company of elves of Thranduil's line alone, much to the chagrin of the Elvenking as he tried to sleep those next two nights. The days were filled with Legolas at one side and Radagast on the other, the one either gently comforting the little orphan and the other studying her for specifics and rattling off facts that Thranduil barely kept in his senses given the lack of sleep. Radagast had carefully sifted by hand through the chest for two days with the help of Legolas and Thranduil both, but none of them had been able to find the eggshell that belonged to little Isilme. Thranduil declared that on the third day there would be no other option but to dump out the contents. Each night, Isilme stayed primarily awake and making strange and often frightening sounds. Not loud and shrieking noises, but soft and eerie that roused the king from an already unsteady rest with a dragon continuing to crawl into the bed with him. No matter how many times he pushed her back into the chest, she continued to insist on his company. Thranduil had yet to figure out how she had undone an outside lock with her magic or whatever other means she had, but somehow the little hatchling had made it out of the chest over and over again only to cuddle up next to her unwilling sire with the strange noises every so often making him all the more unwilling and agitated.
Suddenly, a noise roused both a dozing Thranduil and a finally sleeping Isilme from their rest. It was an unearthly howl, a set of three terrifying shrieks that echoed from the forest, near the base of the entrance to the living rock that made the king's palace. It resounded through the halls within the palace itself and Thranduil sat bolt upright with Isilme immediately scurrying up his shoulders and behind his golden hair to hide. He felt her trembling and heard the unusual pathetic whimpering of a small dragon. This would've been amusing and downright laughable under other circumstances after facing Smaug and other dragons. However, after three nights without sleep and so close to the victory of a terrible battle, this was nothing short of infuriating. Thranduil threw the covers off his bed, ignoring Isilme digging her claws into his shoulders and begging him with chirps and soft grunts to not venture out onto the balcony in the hall. Isilme, it seemed, was more frightened of the noise than the Elvenking himself.
Legolas had also moved quickly into the hallway at the shriek and glanced around in an expression that had grown more curious than terrified since childhood. Thranduil glanced down at Isilme, as she crawled down to his chest, this time outside his clothing, and clinging to him. Both were trying to listen for the sound again. At the third set of shrieks he moved out into the hall and onto the balcony, staring into the darkness of the forest with concern. Isilme whimpered and buried her head against him at the sight of the vast unknown. The king felt a hand suddenly grasp his shoulder and turned with a shout. Legolas stared back at his father in concern, as Thranduil's expression shifted to anger at the intrusion and the thought of being hindered holding this dragon hatchling from smacking the boy on the back of the head.
"Ada, it's back," the younger whispered.
"Nothing is back, Legolas. It was a methostra, nothing else," Thranduil corrected firmly.
"I've never heard an owl, no matter their size, make that kind of noise before," Legolas commented, still concerned.
Thranduil sighed heavily. "The great black owls of the southlands deep in the heart of where the greenery grows faint make those sounds. I heard them when I was very young," he replied. Legolas continued to stare at his father in concern. "Oh for goodness' sake, what is it?"
"If the owls live so far south, what would they be doing here?" he asked.
"I don't know, boy," he snapped back, the lack of sleep formally catching up to him in the most informal fashion. It was not often that Thranduil spoke cruelly to Legolas or sharply, but it had seemed that since the dealings with the company headed for Erebor that he had developed some sort of smoldering anger with his son that even Legolas returned from time to time. "What in whole of the realms is a dragon doing in my bedchamber?!"
"It was in the chest you . . . " the younger began.
"Legolas, it is night, it is dark, and it is time for all creatures to be in either sleep or on the hunt. Unless you wish to take up arms and go seek it out I suggest you return to your chambers," Thranduil said firmly.
"Good thinking, Ada," Legolas said with a nod. "I will go and wake Tauriel, she alone can track in the dark like a bird."
"Oh no you don't. I'm not having you ponder off into the forest chasing a sooty owl with a loud cry. Now go back to your chambers and I will do the same," Thranduil corrected sternly. "Am I the only one in this whole palace who hasn't slept in three days?!"
"Well I think you've kept Isilme up, hasn't he little sister?" Legolas remarked with a fond touch to the hatchling's head.
"The dragon? I make a statement about the deterioration of my senses and you think of the dragon?!" Thranduil exclaimed. Legolas frowned at him as if to ask why he wasn't doing the same. "Now you listen to me; the only reason this dragon is not out in the Misty Mountains right this minute is because Radagast has some perverted notion about learning of her origin! And since I cannot do without his input for at least a short time since you've insisted on keeping the thing, and I cannot replace what he has offered to provide I am inclined to humor him."
"What exactly dis he promise to provide you with?" Legolas asked in strained confusion. The old wizard had been called only twice into the kingdom before and Radagast never really seemed to like the company of the elves. His father was usually friendly only to creatures that returned his gracious nature.
"Antivenom," Thranduil replied flatly.
"For?"
"Spiders, boy, big blasted black spiders that won't succumb to big blasted black owls!" Thranduil said, nearly shouting the last part into the forest. The shrieking came again, this time seeming to come from two places at once: one in front of them and one behind.
Legolas looked at his father as his skin began to grow pale. "I told you it's returned . . . it gets closer every time and now it's . . ."
"Not real and it never was," Thranduil interjected in a harsh whisper. "Enough of this childishness, Legolas, the forest is no stranger to strange sounds, you know this. There are no such things as ghosts, gaunts, ghouls, and spectres, what's dead is dead." The prince frowned a little at his father's words, knowing what was to follow this statement. It had been forged by years of duty counterbalanced with hours of grief and bitterness at the loss of Caradithil. "There is no afterlife, there is no otherworld, there is only here and the Havens beyond and since we have elected to stay we join the forest in death and that is the end of it."
"Ada, such things are objected by Lord Celeborn and Lord Elrond both," Legolas countered.
"Then let them come and deal with the blasted thing after they've spent a few nights without rest!" he retorted hotly. The subject had been a taboo for a long time, the concept of the dead, death, the Havens themselves, and even the otherworld. It was said in both Rivendell and Lothlorien that the banishment of spirits had left Thranduil's halls quite haunted with their oppressive silence. Thranduil shook his head and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "We have all had a long, weary few days, and it is time we began to circle back around to peace in the evenings."
"Yes, Ada," Legolas replied quickly, looking away with the same expression he had held as a child when denied the subject and the subject of his mother. Still, he had heard stories from the others and had heard on several occasions, without being heard himself, his father weeping for hours in the dead of night after the mention of the subject. Hundreds of years had not been able to scar nor salve the gaping hole left by the precious she-elf in the king's heart and Legolas felt it his duty to protect it as staunchly as he defended the realm itself. If his father needed to retreat into the darkness and mourn a while longer, he would not deny it to him. Isilme looked up at Thranduil sadly and leapt from his chest, clattering across the floor and leaping onto Legolas' shoulders, climbing around to his chest as he fumbled to embrace her, grunting in slight pain. "No, no, Isilme. You belong with the chest you came in."
Thanduil watched his son approach him with the hatchling and noted that for the moment she seemed more at peace in his arms. He sighed and rubbed his brow, putting a hand out. "Forgive my sharp tongue, lon nin, I am not myself," Thranduil admitted softly. Legolas nodded as he moved to place Isilme in his father's arms. Thranduil put up a hand dismissively. "She seems to desire your company tonight. Let her have what she desires at the moment as it may just be what all of us need." Legolas nodded slowly, stroking Isilme's neck tenderly and looking back at his father with forgiveness and worry. Thranduil sighed and placed a hand gently on his son's shoulder. "You have much to offer where I cannot."
Legolas said nothing more as he turned and headed back to his chambers with the hatchling. Both fell asleep quickly. Thranduil returned to his own chambers and pondered many heavy things before lying back and finally closing his eyes. He looked out towards the window and jumped, startled at the sight of something strange. A great sooty owl had landed on the railing of the window, staring straight at him with silver eyes. Thranduil slowly started to sit upright as the owl slowly and majestically lifted its wings to their fullest. It leaned forward and let out one more shriek. Thranduil jumped at this and frowned. After a few seconds the owl had settled itself back to perching properly though still looked terribly strange and frightening. Thranduil settled himself and addressed the owl directly. "So you are the cause of all that raucous, are you?" he asked with a brow lifted. The owl seemed to stare back unyielding, but with a slight smirk. "You had my son in a poor humor, filling his thoughts with such darkness after all the troubles he's already suffered."
"If he's suffered, Thranduil son of Oropher," the owl hissed in a very distinct and deeply unnerving voice. "Then as his father you are to blame."
Thranduil's eyes raised and widened in disbelief. The owl cackled and spread its wings once more then flew past the king, into the palace and into some place where the king couldn't see him. Thranduil gasped and scooted backwards at this, considering either chasing after the owl angrily and catching it by the neck or sending the guards after it. In the end, he decided that it was some sort of illusion, a physical form of guilt that he had allowed to take him momentarily when contemplating having spoken so harshly to his precious child. He sighed heavily and finally allowed himself to recline properly against the pillows, snuggling safely into the blankets and breathing a prayer that his senses would allow him to sleep instead of suffer anymore visions. A thought came to him and he sighed, standing and hurrying quietly to his son's chambers. Once more, to his relief, Legolas was fast asleep in his own bed.
Thranduil frowned and looked around for Isilme, suddenly realizing she wasn't there. He heard a soft purring and then felt the familiar small stinging of her claws as she climbed up the Elvenking's back and onto his shoulders, draping her head past his neck and finally seeming to fall asleep. Thranduil felt an unusual and powerful tiredness overtake him as well. He walked slowly back to his own chambers and slipped into bed, not being careful for Isilme, but instead allowing her to resituate herself to fit snugly beside him. The two lay asleep peacefully as the long night dragged on. Neither were aware of the silver pair of eyes watching them from a dark corner. The owl smiled at the sight of the dragon and the Elvenking. He was in the right place and now needed to wait for the right time.