Chapter 43 everyone!
Yes, I decided on two updates in a row because I've reached 300 reviews! That's crazy! I'm so grateful to all of you that have taken your time to leave a review, no matter how long or short. They are a joy to read, thank you! Also a huge 'thanks' to all readers, followers and favourites! Your support is as deeply appreciated as the reviewers!
*A little sidenote; it was great to see familiar names appear at my new story* I'm so glad for the reviews for this story expressing how glad/thankful they were for the alternative story (if you like it to be one).
I do not own any characters (just some Oc's) or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do.
Enjoy!
Chapter 43: Thranduil
He saw the inner turmoil of Tauriel reflect in her eyes and he couldn't stop the slight sting that seemed to poke at his heart. It was bothersome. After watching Legolas go, when the last sound of hooves had disappeared, he turned around and walked back up to the castle.
"Cancel all meetings for today", he informed Galion, who was immediately at the king's side. "I need to…. think."
"My Lord."
Think. A word with many possibilities. A rather dangerous word, so full of misgiving leads.
He left the courtyard behind, the faint voices of the elves turning into sweet buzzing noises of nothing. He glided through the open doors like a shadow, sweeping out everything in his way. A tall, graceful shadow in pale colors, but with eyes as cold as winter.
He had felt lonely when he watched Legolas go. Loneliness was not something he was a stranger to, but it felt different when seeing his only son leave. The king pursed his lips together, frowning.
The elves he met greeted him with bows and he nodded stiffly back. Distractions, that was what they were now. But not good enough distractions to make him forget Tauriel's unhappy face as she bid Legolas's farewell.
He supposed he should not have been so surprised when he arrived outside the Halls of Healing. With no parents or close family present, the most obvious choice was Merenwen.
He looked at the massive doors that led to the Halls of Healing and after a few seconds of hesitation, he pushed down the gleaming handle and walked inside.
Merewen was there – when was she not? – together with two younger healers, who looked startled at the sight of their king in the bright, spacey sickroom. They bowed their heads at him and he managed a graceful nod back, though his eyes were fixed upon Merewen. She pursed her lips together before turning back to the other two healers.
"If you could be so kind to retrieve some more bandages and look after the growing athelas, that would be all", Merenwen said and offered the other two elves a small smile.
They nodded and with a last bow in the king's direction, they left the Halls of Healing with elegant strides. As soon as the doors were shut, Merewen crossed her arms and raised a dark eyebrow at the king.
"Why are you here, your Majesty? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"It's nothing of importance", he answered, sitting down on one of the beds. "I just wanted to see how you're faring."
Merenwen snorted and shook her head. She walked over to a table filled with herbs in green, purple and brown and started to pick them up and sort them in different piles.
"I have known you since you were an elfling", she said with her back turned to him. "I know you, Thranduil. You are a lot like your mother, always having ulterior motives, always trying for the impossible. So do not lie to me. You want something from me."
He didn't answer. Merenwen was right when she said that she knew him and she was one of the few reminders of his childhood, of a time before he became king. The healer had been a friend of his father and she had always possessed an ability to be brutally honest, something that was rare amongst their kind.
He kept quiet for a while longer, his mind not as blank and organized as usual, but rather filled with fragments of different thoughts all blended together as one heavy thought.
"Am I a good king?"
As soon as he had asked the question, he wished he could take it back. Merenwen regarded him with her piercing eyes before returning to sort the herbs.
"If you were, why would you even need to ask that question?"
The king's lips twitched at the healer's blunt, but tricky, answer. He thoughtfully tapped his finger against the silky sheets of the bed.
"Am I a good father, then?"
The question was hesitant, even though his voice was still calm and uninterested. This time, Merenwen didn't look up from her work and her nimble fingers continued with their duty. When she didn't answer immediately, he felt his inside turn cold and his heart sped up.
"You're trying", Merenwen finally said, but she sounded tired. "But sometimes I wonder…."
He didn't reply, feeling his shoulders slouch. He lowered his eyes, resisting the urge of starting to pull out his blond hair in frustration. Hopeless, he felt. Hopeless and maybe even a little bit sad. He didn't like to be a failure.
"You disapprove of how I've handled Legolas and Tauriel", he said, stating the truth.
Merenwen turned to look at him, hands on her narrow hips. He suddenly felt like a little elfling again.
"I thought you might have handled it differently", the older woman admitted. "At least I hoped so."
"How?" the king asked, becoming defensive. "They cannot always be side by side. They have different duties to attend, different lives to live."
Merenwen sighed and he went quiet.
"Together or apart, it's not about that", Merenwen said impatiently. "It is about how to handle the situation. You should have let them decide for themselves and not ordering them around."
"I did not…."
"You did. The king's word is always final", Merenwen interrupted him sharply.
He tried to remain an expressionless mask and averted his eyes to look around the room instead. It was difficult to put the thoughts in his mind into words. He was not sure he could explain the feeling of fear he felt for Legolas one day ending up heartbroken. Love was a fickle thing and it had caused him many sorrows. He also knew that no matter what people said, no matter how much Legolas tried to be like him, he was not. His son was not as cold as him and it had been the coldness that had made him survive after his wife's passing.
And Tauriel was like fire, a dangerous game to play. Love could tear both of them apart and that wasn't something the king wanted to happen.
"Love is a dangerous thing", he said to Merenwen in a distant voice. "And the world is cruel to those who possess it."
The older woman regarded him with tired, grey eyes that were so sad that he almost flinched.
"The world is cruel, yes", she agreed quietly. "Though that doesn't mean that you have to be."
The king did not know what to say to that.
