Chapter 25: Leagues

Thranduil wasn't having a good day. Armed with the best books on holistic medicine and having sought the advice of healers in and beyond Mirkwood, he had sworn to himself that he would do everything in his power to fulfil Tauriel's expectations. After several sessions of mindfulness and taking advantage of healing potions, as well as a cleansing diet consisting mainly of lembas, miruvor and ent-draught, he had become quite optimistic about the prospect of being able to demonstrate to the mother of his child that he was hale and serious about staying in the realm, basing his assumption on ample testing of his health afterwards with the most potent of wines and the oldest and most disgusting cram there was to be found in the land. But after returning to his pre-battle of Dale routine and a couple of days of fight training, his cramps had returned with a vengeance the night before, leaving him depressed, mortified, in pain and dependent on his devoted servant Galion again for helping him out of bed and offering advice, which saw him spending the day resting after all and trying to devise a plan to get his situation finally turned over. So he was quite started when someone intruded into his bedroom, not to mention unannounced.

"Father." The entrant stated simply, giving him some due respect with a nod, but rather frosty and reserved otherwise. Not unusually given their history, but somewhat more prominently this time.

The king was surprised enough into blinking uncertainly before he pulled himself up on the pillows into a sitting position and got himself together. "Legolas! I have not been expecting you, but I am glad you decided to come. We have much to discuss."

"Understatement of the century."

Thranduil nodded solemnly, understanding that his son was not exactly happy. Jealousy was a reaction he had anticipated and he had to admit that there was some cause for it and therefore he was ready with his approach, which would be keeping to his moral obligation to his people. "I had told you I had a plan for the survival of our species," he said with the firmness of someone not wanting to be questioned.

"And you never told me what it was, I assume with good cause. You never told me of course because it involved defiling my best friend, the elleth I loved!"

"Legolas." The word sounded as if his father took pity on him, "you know well enough that your love was not reciprocated."

"That is beside the point. Strange it may seem to you ada, you had no right to claim her body, using her to further some insane idea!"

"Careful Legolas. You are speaking to your King." Thranduil was annoyed, more with himself than anything else for not being able to pull off his best commandeering voice. Those stomach cramps were quite distracting, even now. "I have grown fond of her," he admitted, changing tack.

"You are clearly ill, father," it was Legolas' turn to take pity on him. "You have your people worried, and that worries me."

"My people have not seen me unwell since the mass funeral. In fact quite the opposite. They have seen me holding tribunals, gatherings, a feast with the occasion of Airaoron's birth, a celebratory march, as well as on patrols and the training grounds. I am told the common elf has no reason to suspect that my collapsing at the ceremony over a year ago was nothing but a temporary affliction due to grief and the adversity of the battle."

"And yet, they do, Sire," the younger elf countered.

"Do you know something I don't, ion-nin," Thranduil was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt based on his promise to himself to be less standoffish with his son, given that he was sure it was partly their relationship that had driven Legolas off in the first place.

"Shall I describe it to you? Well, I have heard many discuss your Edict throughout the lands. Some say you have gone mad."

"They won't disobey me," the king dismissed, "they wouldn't dare," he straightened to his rigid, upright pose, chin held high even in bed.

Legolas shook his head, "father, you are asking your people to go against the very nature of the Eldar."

"I thought you of all will understand. You have always stood by Tauriel's outlandishness after all."

"I am standing by her," Legolas assured. It was the closest he had ever come to physically attacking his father, anger boiling at the casual mention of her name. "I have asked her to honour me with a noble and dignifying union between the two of us."

"You can't do that," Thranduil gave him the stare. It was almost like a growl.

There were times when Legolas would've trembled like a leaf under those cold orbs. But not when Tauriel's fate was at stake. "Yes, I can. She had abandoned you, hasn't she. The Council approves by plan. The factions supporting them also agree that there might have to be desperate measures taken to protect the elven life style experience as it is," he said defiantly, making sure it was hitting him where it hurt most. "To assure them of a future they would opt for, I have accepted possible resulting responsibilities, shall it come to that. You are fading. There's no reason why I couldn't take over in your lifetime to make matters easier for everyone."

Thranduil however did not bat an eyelid at the open threat to his throne. The boy was hotheaded youth, just like his favourite redhead. It was clear the real threat came from those who put those ideas in his head, most likely certain members of the council. He made a mental note to deal with those, but now he had more important things to consider. "Elven life you say. In that case, let us invoke an ancient custom used when there are two elves competing for the attentions of an elleth. Settle the right to ask her amongst ourselves first, and then she can decide if she would want that hand."

"I will not duel with you! You are ill, apart from anything else."

"You either duel with me ion nin, settling the matter easily in private, or you bring in the council, and a potentially lot more grievous public ignominy," he threatened, never really imagining he had lost too much support with the council.

An elf wouldn't willingly physically harm another, but that didn't mean it could not get ugly. If Thranduil was to abdicate, Legolas wanted it to be smooth and behind the scenes and therefore there wasn't much choice at the moment but give him what he wanted. "Fine. I will wait till you're able to fight."

Thranduil gave him a taunting smile, "in the morn, at dawn before anyone thinks of using the training halls. It will be a swordfight. Inform and bring one elf only, my assistant will be Galion. Now go."

tbc