Chapter 10: Frozen In Memory
The rapid beatings of hoof meeting solid ice shattered the peaceful silence that wavered over Rivendell, and sent creatures scattered in every direction; for the presence of the Elvenking brought resignation. The frost-bitten trees grew solemn, the moon masked behind bleary vapor, and the birds ceased their tune.
Thranduil's eyes cut the briskness like a knife through air. He sought only one being, the only one that mattered. His darkened eyebrows and eyelashes glittered as tiny snowflakes fell delicately upon them.
The elves of Rivendell stood perplexed as their words became naught, eyes only fixed on the sole being of Sindarin race. The ruler they knew too well – King Thranduil.
Lord Elrond, feeling a bit envious of all the attention diverted to the other, coughed dryly. "Ahem. It seems that King Thranduil is here to escort his son back to Mirkwood—nothing more." He shot a nervous glance at one elf, Lindir, giving him a 'you know what to do' look.
oOo
Thranduil's eyes scanned the crowd, searching, but the face he sought was nowhere to be found. Impatient as ever, he guided his beast near Rivendell's courtyard away from the chattering crowd, doing his best to slip unnoticed.
"King Thranduil? Departing so soon?" Lord Elrond stated. He raised an eyebrow in accusation. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" He jerked his head towards the healing room. "My guards say that Legolas has recovered; the spider's poison has been bayed by—"
Thranduil spun around in a mixture of shock and anger, an emotion that lacked attractiveness.
"What is this wound you speak of?" He growled dangerously, dropping his intense glare lower than low. His face contorted into a forbidding one. "My son is by far the finest warrior in all of Mirkwood next to me. If you dare to challenge his skill, you challenge mine," Thranduil said in a tone like ice.
Lord Elrond grimaced, his plan compromised. "This is not about you," he muttered bitterly under his breath. "Why, I thought you to be informed. Legolas arrived not too many eves ago, severely wounded with a vicious poison lodged in his back, no doubt from a Mirkwood spider," Lord Elrond said. He glanced at the king warily.
Thranduil felt himself slip into oblivion. Half of his face twitched into a frown of desperate worry at the significantly ill news. Only three words echoed throughout his mind: Legolas. Wounded. Mirkwood.
"And how did it come to be that this event occurred?" He seethed through clenched teeth. It would be unwise to let off unnecessary steam unto one who was being so... informative.
Lord Elrond observed the other elf with caution. He knew exactly what direction this was heading, and decided to switch the conversation. He quickly slid off his horse with a light thump, and shot daggers at Thranduil (much to the Elvenking's disgust), that said to do the same.
"You need not worry for him. Come. You are in Rivendell old friend, and I would greatly enjoy your company."
"I come, for my son."
"But surely you wish to indulge in my hospitality—"
"Nothing more," Thranduil hissed. He could not be swayed from his task. He would not say, but he was worried... beyond incredible measure. But how to slip away?
Thranduil elegantly dismounted, robe grazing wintry layers. A barely audible, "I accept your offer," was heard. He hoisted his reins and Lord Elrond took it.
Lord Elrond turned his back. He was glad he could finally be in control of the situation. "I bid you welcome, although you always seem to show uninvited." He chuckled, and paused to pat the back of Thranduil's steed. "As I have said earlier, na saian luume'. The same goes for your last one predicament—"
Suspicion overtook him upon realizing no responses came. Pivoting, his eyes met an empty courtyard; he found himself alone in the bitter wind.
"Aye Valor, that elf drives me mad!" He bellowed into the frosty air.
Thranduil's horse, taking advantage of the distracted lord, hastily chomped down onto the elf's hair. Among the silent atmosphere echoed an indignant shout of shock.
oOo
Thranduil knew it was disrespectful to leave Elrond in empty suspense, but he had better things to do than waste time in such meager matters. He needed to see for himself that his son was safe. Now. As for last years' annual wine-tasting festival – that was another story. One that he was not proud of. He felt his cheeks playfully flush, but he brushed away his innermost memory.
Through vast hallways of rare stone he searched. Under roof, above ground, and through many gardens and courtyards he treaded. Hours dragged on like days. The borders of the forest under the shadow of the Misty Mountains was large and the day was cold; still he trekked onward. He aimlessly walked over blankets of snowy earth, and scoured the trees.
Was his presence the reason Legolas had been injured?
Regret. It teared his gut to shreds.
Tauriel's image unwillingly entered his mind, her maroon hair taunting him with fires of ire. Her stinging words had left deep scars embedded in his head, forever etched until death.
You think your life is worth more than theirs? There is no love in it...
Her words mercilessly teased him like a hunter with prey before consumption. The Elvenking stopped midway through his pacing. Half embedded in light snow lay a beautiful radiant rose.
– There is no love in you
Tauriel's sickening phrase echoed eternally in his mind, twisting and boring into his skull like a serpent thrashing wildly for it's life. He despised admitting it, but truth lay behind her words. Was he always this cold-hearted?
He knew the answer and it brought back haunting melodies, causing him to stagger like a wounded animal, for in a way he was wounded as well.
Concluding the battle at Erebor, Tauriel had asked for the one thing that sent the king into remorse, glancing fearfully at his trembling hands. He had been pressured into granting her that deadly act, for all the torment she had caused himself and his son was unbearable. He had come too close to carrying out her last wish. But enough blood had been spilt that awful night. So, he pardoned her, just this once.
Shaking immensely, his remote gaze suddenly grew chilling and with a cry of incredulity, he swept over the earth. The snow underneath left a misshapen imprint and scattered red debris. The fragmented petals eerily spilt over the new blanket of white snow, dotting it crimson.
Love would forever mean the end of life. Aye Valor what am I doing? I know not what to do with or without my son.
He knew now for certain that Legolas had been in some sort of trouble, but failed to see it. He had seen the confused blue eyes that had desperately begged his father for approval. To get to know him better. And what had he done? He had turned his back, like the many others he had done so in the past.
Running a hand down the left side of his face, he shivered at the coldness of his hands. "You need me Legolas, and though I dare not speak it – I need you as well." Absentmindedly, he stroked his cheek. The unblemished smoothness was false, a lie.
The scarred burns of war snapped him from his dreamy faze. Back to reality.
oOo
Legolas gasped in surprise, and his bow fell to the snow with a soft thud.
A curious Estel took in the peculiar expression of the elf. Legolas was trying desperately to shroud his emotions.
"Is something the matter?" He asked. "Lle tyava quel?"
Legolas gave the small boy an apologetic look. "It seems we must return. Your Ada awaits your arrival."
Estel grinned in delight at this, jumping merrily into the brisk air; his face seemed to brighten Legolas's crestfallen mood. Estel laughed cheerfully, and pulled the confused elf by his tunic in Rivendell's direction. His home flickered brightly in the dusk.
"Wait 'till Ada lays his eyes on you! You've gotten so much better, and the last time he saw you was when you had fallen ill!"
He stopped dragging the elf, and ran a little ways off, marveling at the wintry wood that lay in their path.
oOo
Legolas's features softened at the boy's growing enthusiasm, yet... everything bothered him. He wondered just what would come next. Would he have to depart soon? How would Estel react once he told him he was to search for someone he hardly knew? Would Estel react at all?
No.
He would stay.
This... Strider or whoever was not as important to him as—
He was brought from his thoughts as a flaky substance splattered all over his hair. It dappled his hair white, causing the elf prince to reluctantly shake the flaky contents off.
Smiling blithely, the elf cast his dignified appearance aside to tenderly scoop up a handful of flawless snow, and he carefully molding it into the perfect sphere.
Fun and games... So, this was what he, Legolas, had been reduced to.
Estel giggled and hid behind one tree, pride alit in his face. No doubt the... child was excited about another game. And yes, Legolas could agree that they were much too near the border of Rivendell.
Suddenly, his pointed ears perked; he caught the sound of crisp leaves.
Silvery strands of hair fell delicately upon his eyes, concealing the dangerous glint. Among the whistling wind, he heard a small clamor to his right. Ah, there then.
He smirked, and diverted his focus unto that direction.
"How foolish to make noise, my lad!" He commented. And with as much swiftness as lightning, he had pitched three outstanding snowballs in the direction of crackling leaves.
As soon as he let go however, a thin sheet of sweat instantly covered his brow. His arms slowly lowered to his side, glimpsing Estel's brown tunic visibly sticking out from another tree to his far left.
What mistake had he made this time? If Estel was on the far side of him, then what in all of Arda had he thrown at?
His eyes widened in surprise and slow terror crawled in the pit of his stomach, devouring him from the inside, as he realized too late the figure that met his gaze. His chapped lips parted in warning but no words arose before the emotionless elf about to be blasted by snow of his own doing. It was as if he, an elf, had forgotten the very language his kin had inherited.
Instead, it was the cold figure that had spoken a soft "Legolas" upon eye contact.
oOo
Thranduil's peculiar gaze and intense features turned to relief at the sight of his son but it lasted little. No more than half a second later did a rushing array of icy snow come at him.
Swiftly drawing his twin swords from beneath his garb, he elegantly wielded them around his refined physique, sighing as he did whilst lunging forward. He effortlessly sliced through the first snowball, cleanly in half, spilling its flaky contents over the ground like flower petals. The same event went for another as the shot was disintegrated into powdery snow, halfway through its journey with a simple whiz through the air.
As he glimpsed his son's shock, the king disregarded the final one, a flaw in the elf's reflex. Alarm had streaked across Legolas's face, and the absence of endearment brought him sadness.
Oh Legolas, I would be frightened of me too.
Snow fluttered everywhere as it met it's mark: his crown of sterling. It caught a thorny angle, and sent the headpiece tumbling to the ground.
Lle tyava quel? - Do you feel well?
Na saian luume - It has been too long