Hi,
I am really sorry, but my computer went hairwire on me (after catching a terrible virus) and deleted the chapter when i clicked on it. My inproficency of handling computers seems to always happen when i'm on fanfic. Anyways, apparently this chapter was terrible because of the lack of rerviews. The hard work and effort done by me and my beta was reworded by a whopping total of 3 reviews.
I realize that even some people are saying it's getting boring. BUT READERS IF YOU WILL JUST STAY WITH ME FOR TWO MORE CHAPTERS stuff will happen, I PROMISE (grins) Please review, my life is less then golden (not that anyone else has a golden life) But unfortuantly bikini season is coming up again, and I was fortuantly born with a curved body, so I am having to work out alot, not that it's helping to fit into today's culture where the only girls who are pretty are girls who are flat and look like boys. Anywho...PLEASE REVIEW FOR THE DESPERATE AUTHOR.
Preparing for his first real night of sleep in three long days, Legolas slowly pulled a sleeping tunic over his head, using the soft material to hide a yawn. The ellyth in charge of him had brought the item of nightwear in place of his own, which had become creased and dirty during the journey he had undertaken, but he inaudibly reflected that he would rather wear what he was accustomed to at any time, never mind the days since it had been washed. It was what he knew, and that offered him comfort where little else could.
Thranduil was nowhere to be seen, apparently still closeted in the main council chamber with Galadriel and Celeborn, discussing the matters of Greenwood. Legolas had been told to remain with the young ellyth; she was kind and helpful, but he could not help resenting her. She only made him want his father even more. So it was that he politely refused sleep, quietly stating that he would stay awake until Thranduil came. The maiden had reluctantly agreed, leaving him in the dark with one lone candle shining on top of a dresser.
Sitting up in the bed he had been given, the child leaned against his pillows, staring at that light. His eyelids were heavy with sleep, but he remained determinedly awake, letting his mind focus on the song still silently vibrating in his mind. He opened up to the beautiful melody, allowing his spirit to blend with it and become one with it… A door slammed somewhere close at hand, and Legolas started at the noise. His eyes became focused, and he watched in silence as his father finally entered the chamber.
"Penneth, why do you not rest?" Thranduil's voice was soft, yet displeasure laced it.
"I wanted to speak with you," Legolas answered quietly, casting his eyes downwards. He knew he should have let himself drift into the dreamless sleep which awaited him.
Leaving the door slightly ajar to allow more light from outside flow in, Thranduil sat on the bed, opening his arms for his son. Legolas snuggled against his chest, a faint smile forming upon his childish features. The father slowly stroked his child's soft hair. His long strands were closer in color to his own sire's, shining with a silvery tint rather than a golden. Legolas had inherited the fine blonde hair of his mother.
"Tell me, Greenleaf… What was so very important that stopped you from entering into the sleep you have been pleading for?"
Legolas sighed, the air which escaped his lips brushing against his father's tunic. "How did you meet Nana?"
Thranduil could not help the sudden tension which stiffened his body; that was the last question he had expected. "I… Well, we… Why do you want to know?" He looked down at his son, catching the blue eyes with his own.
Almost timidly, Legolas lowered his gaze a moment before raising it once more. "I want to remember her the way you do."
At the words, Thranduil shifted underneath the child, his mind flying back to the time he first met Elranna, and the memory he had sought to hide away sprung up again. Valar, how great the pain. The whole thing was his fault. Her death and the blood which had flowed so hard and fast lay solely in his hands. He could have stopped it. He could have stopped all of it, but he had not been swift enough.
"It is time for you to go to bed, Legolas," he said, his voice emotionless. He pulled himself away from his son's arms, turning his face away to hide the grief buried deep within him.
"It is not your fault."
Something in the child's heart must have spoke of his father's feelings of self-blame and loathing, and wide azure eyes watched silently as Thranduil inhaled sharply and slowly let the breath out. Why and how his little son seemed to know him so much better than he knew himself, he could not fathom. He turned once more and sat at the edge of the bed, gazing into the young face before him, struggling to control his own emotions and stop them from grabbing hold of him.
"It's not your fault. It was meant to be this way, because the Valar let it happen. Everything they do has a reason, Ada, and perhaps one day we will both finally be able to understand," Legolas murmured.
"Ai penneth, you have the wisdom of a god," Thranduil wondered, his own voice equally soft.
Legolas just shook his golden head and looked down. "Wisdom comes out of the mouth of babes."
"Like that little phrase," Thranduil smiled.
"Grandmamma taught it to me."
The older Elf laughed softly under his breath, accompanying it with a nod of comprehension. "I see. We must visit her when we return."
"When will that be, Ada?" Legolas pressed.
"I don't know, Greenleaf. I don't know." It was the truth; Thranduil's mind held many things; too many to even consider the journey home.
"Tell me about Nana." The child reached upwards, clearly wanting to be held, but all he received was an irritated sigh.
"Penneth, can we not do this another night?" Legolas frowned, disappointment evident upon his face. He opened his eyes wide, and attacked his father with the best begging impression he knew of. "Ai Elbereth, ion-nín. You are so difficult!"
Legolas just looked up with a wide grin, knowing full well that he had fought the demons of grief and defeated them on this occasion. With another sigh, softer this time, Thranduil lay back against the board of the bed, letting his son's head rest again upon his chest. His hands stroked silky hair, and he took his time, thinking back on the day he first met his love.
"I was on a patrol in the northern woods, very close to where your grandmamma and grandpa live. I was the leader of the patrol, but I looked like all the other Elves, so in the possible event we were captured, our enemies would not know me as the Crown Prince of Greenwood the Great. After a few days of scouting we set up a base. There were some fifty of us in total, and another fifty was to join us at a later time. As we were constructing the camp tents, spiders appeared. They had surrounded us without our knowledge."
Legolas' body stiffened slightly, his breath hitched just enough to announce his deep involvement in the story. "Then what happened?"
"Everyone was…stunned. And frightened."
"You weren't," Legolas stated boldly.
Thranduil laughed quietly. "Even as a warrior, it was…nerve wracking."
At the admission, the child gave his father a strange look. "But you…you are never afraid of anything."
"No, ion-nín." Thranduil smiled, and gently kissed his son's forehead. "There is nothing wrong with feeling the emotion of fear, but letting yourself act upon it is something I never do. There is a difference." Legolas nodded understanding, and snuggled in for the rest of the story. "We attacked the only way we could. We shot arrows at long range, and used swords when the proximity of the spiders allowed it. Finally after hours of fighting we were able to defeat them, but not without
loss of numbers due to various injuries. Thankfully, none died.
"After helping to carry the weakened soldiers, one of the lieutenants realized that I too had been wounded by a spider. I myself had not noticed. I needed to be taken straight to a healer, for warriors carry little antidotes against spider venom, since spiders are so rare. Then all I recall is falling unconscious, but when I awoke…"
Flashback (888 yrs earlier)
Thranduil felt something soft beneath him. He could have forced his eyes open, but instinct and past experiences of captivity kept them closed. It was in his own interests to feign unconsciousness as his senses searched the surroundings. Sunlight was filtering in through a window, gently warming him through the sheets and blankets which covered his body. He could feel that the room was empty, and he slowly opened one eye. A white ceiling greeted him, and he flicked the other eye open.
The dazzling light from outside attacked his vision, and he could not help but groan at the prickles of pain. Pride got the better of him, though, and he immediately bit his lip and glanced swiftly around the room, ignoring the dizziness which plagued him. All was silent and still within, but without, he heard footsteps climbing up the stairs to where he lay, a deep sense of urgency in them. The trees whispered to him that he was in no danger, and he lay back once more, feigning sleep and awaiting the newcomer. The footsteps stopped, almost as though they had collided with something, and he listened intently to the voices that suddenly sprang up.
"You cannot go in there." The firm but musical tone was that of a young lady.
'A blonde lady,' he guessed.
"M'lady, try to understand this. I heard him and I want to see him!"
Thranduil almost laughed. That was his second in command, and Aramas sounded more like an old nurse than a fierce warrior, his voice hurried and impatient, tinged with worry. The voice which met his was contrastingly calm.
"You cannot go in there until my father has completed his treatment against the poison. If you go in now, you will over-excite him."
Both Thranduil and Aramas snorted in unison at the words.
"My commander-
The woman's sly voice cut in. "So, he is your commander."
Thranduil muttered a quick curse in Quenyan. Aramas always strove to protect his identity, yet it was rarely to any avail. The secret was always guessed by the end of the day; Aramas never had been good at keeping them to himself, one of the reasons why his post was only second in command. Outside the door, the two began to quarrel, the lady's arguments surprisingly vicious. Thranduil rolled his eyes. He would never be permitted to speak with his fellow warrior if the woman had her way.
He was royalty; how difficult could it be to silence them? He opened his mouth, though he closed it again almost immediately. First he wanted to test his strength. He never wanted to be weak. Mortals were weak, not the Crowned Prince of Greenwood the Great. He slowly propped himself up, duly noting his level of health. Surprisingly, he found it to be high. The woman was insane to think the effects of the poison had yet to be destroyed. In silence, he eased towards the edge of the bed, still listening to the heated debate outside the door. The more Aramas argued with the lady, the more painful Thranduil's headache became. The stronger the headache, the greater was his desire for sleep.
He stood slowly and grabbed onto a bedpost to pull himself up, assuming he would need the support. Another surprise came; his strength was perfectly renewed. "Now if I can shut them up, things will be wonderful," he muttered beneath his breath.
Grabbing a robe from the chair near his bed, he let his gaze travel around his accommodation once more, taking in the surroundings with more clarity than before. It was a simply furnished room, comprising of merely the bed, a nightstand with a porcelain bowl upon it, a mahogany wardrobe and the wooden chair which had… Raised voices flew in from outside, and Thranduil felt pulses of anger as the urge to strangle Aramas and put the woman in a cell in the middle of nowhere overcame him. He strode towards the door and threw it open. Unsurprisingly, he was met with silence.
"Have you any idea how very difficult it is to sleep when there are two people bickering outside your room?" His voice was cold, his eyes hard and completely focused on Aramas.
"S-sorry…sir."
Thranduil simply glared at him. "Report, Captain."
Aramas cleared his throat and instinctively straightened his shoulders. "None dead, sir. Only four injured, five including yourself."
"Thank you. I do believe I can count. Now, is there any possibility that you and your new friend can continue your conversation somewhere away from my door?"
"Yes, sir," Aramas replied, fighting hard not to stutter under the chilling gaze of his commander.
"So glad to hear it, Captain."
"How is your head?"
For the first time, Thranduil turned his eyes upon the lady Aramas had been arguing with. He had been right; her hair was blonde, the color of spun gold. She was also the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he had thought that many could fit his standards. For a second he was tongue tied. How was it possible that his second in command was not seeing what his eyes did? He was looking upon either a Goddess or a nymph; that or there was some poison left in his body which had induced a hallucination. 'Poison does not do that to Elves,' he silently told himself. 'I hope.'
Aramas coughed suddenly, loud in the silence, jolting Thranduil out of the deep thoughts his mind was struggling to swim through. He opened his mouth to speak, found it was already open, and slowly cleared his throat. Trying to wear his most diplomatic expression, he replied: "My head is…manageable. I just need some…rest." Truly, it was hopeless.
"Sleep is the last thing you need. The poison will take over again if you cannot remain awake," the lady informed him, her tone brooking no argument.
"That will not be hard," Thranduil murmured.
He maintained unbreakable eye contact with the creature of beauty who stood before him, blissfully unaware of the discomfort suffered by his waiting second in command. To one side, Aramas shifted slightly, purposefully fidgeting in futile attempts to distract the apparently frozen Elves. He was a fool, though, to try and capture the attention of a young prince meeting his bonded for the first time.
The lady was as taken with Thranduil as he was with her. When he had first stepped out of the room, surprise had swept through her at the powering presence which radiated from him in a simple word or glance, the way he held his head proudly high in spite of the weariness and pain within eyes of a deep blue, darkened somewhat by his emotions. Her mouth, she thought later, must have dropped to the floor and beyond as she had studied him speaking with his second in command, as she had taken in the incredibly handsome face, the most well built body she had ever looked upon. With just a simple robe thrown casually over leggings, it was a sight which made her heart pound.
The two continued to stare at each other until the resounding thump in Thranduil's head became steadily louder. There must have been a percussive instrument of sorts in there…his captain was still fidgeting….he had just met his bonded. Realization slammed into him, and the headache increased ten fold. The light streaming in from the window did not help any, and he shut his eyes tightly. A hand upon his arm led him back to his room, and a giddy sense of delight washed over him at the touch.
"Shut the window," Elranna said pointedly to Aramas. "I will find my father. Keep him awake, Captain."
As the first command was obeyed and the room became darker, Thranduil sat cautiously upon the bed, his headache only slightly less spiked. "Aramas," he called.
"Yes, sir?"
"What is her name?"
"The young lady's, sir?"
Thranduil managed to get one eye open at the question, and shook his head slightly. "No, I meant the cow outside my window. Yes, you fool. The lady."
"She is Elranna, sir. The daughter of Darius."
"Darius…" Thranduil was silent in contemplation before realization hit. "Darius the renowned healer? Darius the former physician of my father?" A nod from Aramas brought forth a sigh from him. "So she is the daughter of a commoner."
Flashback Interrupted
"But Ada, why did it matter if Nana was a commoner or not?"
Thranduil looked down at his son, and shook his head almost helplessly. "It is a very complicated thing for me to explain."
"Try," Legolas replied impertinently.
"Watch your tone, ion-nín. It is disrespectful." At his son's quick nod and the faint flush upon his cheeks, Thranduil moderated his own voice. "Will you let me continue the story, Greenleaf?"
"Yes, Ada."
Flashback Continued
"Why should that matter, sir? Anyone can tell within thirty feet that you and she will be bonded," Aramas answered, confusion lacing his voice. "The way you look at each other…"
"Yes." Thranduil's voice had softened, and he lowered his head to rest it in his hands. "My father… When he finds out…he will…"
"Who will tell him, sir?"
The Prince raised his eyes, looking deliberately at Aramas. "You will not?"
"Am I a fool?"
"Sometimes I wonder."
Aramas just chuckled lightly. "Believe it or not, sir, I do indeed have brains and some small measure of common sense. My mouth simply turns to water when you glare." He received a stuck out tongue for his words, and his lips turned upwards in a grin. "Oh, that was very mature and so becoming of an Elf in your position."
Drawing on the strength given back to him by his healers, Thranduil pushed Aramas off the bed, smiling slightly as his companion landed upon the floor with the grace born into all immortals. The second in command picked himself up, ready to avenge himself, when footsteps outside interrupted their play. Darius came swiftly into the room, followed by a very intent looking Elranna, but he halted almost immediately.
"Your Royal Highness!"
Thranduil could not help but groan at that. "I hate being a prince," he muttered, barely loud enough for the others to hear. Aramas caught the words and laughed loudly, his mirth making that damned headache spring up again. To make matters worse, now Elranna knew his true identity.
"Elranna, boil me some Athelas. I will find my bag."
As the requests were carried out and the physician set to work, Thranduil grumbled something offensive in quiet Dwarvish about Darius' bag. The last thing he saw before the healers descended upon him was the tips of Aramas' ears turning bright red.
End Flashback
Legolas smiled. "And then you married Nana."
"It was not as easy as that, penneth," Thranduil replied, shaking his head. He felt his son shift in confusion, but the child remained silent. "I had many doubts, so rather than rush into marriage, we spent many evenings together, walking, talking…" As he recalled the happy memories, his eyes drifted out of focus. "We had our first kiss, but even after that I remained unsure. I knew that my… Oropher would be furious. The day Darius finally said I was cured happened to fall on Marynihska's begetting day. There was a big celebration, and Elranna danced for the crowd. Valar, I will never forget it. She had such grace. The melody was so sad, so mournful that it made her appear to be crying.
"As I watched her, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life dancing with her in the moonlight, forever. After I returned to the palace, we sent each other letters every day, using birds to protect our secret from Oropher. And then, a few hundred years later, we had a small wedding. Just us and her parents."
Thranduil looked down at Legolas to find him asleep, eyes closed in a sleep not yet free from dreams and memories. The older Elf shook his head, a fair smile gracing his features, the deep pools of his eyes lighting for a split second as he laid his small son upon the pillow. "Losto mae, ion-nín," he whispered. He kissed the smooth forehead and left the room, sneaking one last loving glance as he shut the door.
Translation: Losto mae, ion-nín: Sleep well, my son
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