A/N: *staggers over, wearing full-body armor and panting* I diD iT yAy! EdiTeD vErsiOn iS uP!
I know I was naughty for taking forever but this chapter is as long as two so I hope that makes it up. :)
Oh, remember when I said there won't be any angst in this story? Well, I may have made an overstatement... *fastens helmet and slides the visor down* *muffled voice* Enjoy!
Chapter 39~ Already Home
Thranduil was not indeed at the stronghold with his feet kicked up and a bottle of Dorwinion in his hand as was customary, much to Feren's dismay. He would be leading out a search party as soon as everyone was settled.
The party came to a stop before the great towering gates of the cavern palace. The enchanted barrier was promptly pushed open with a breathy sigh as a cloud of dust enveloped the head of the group.
The main tunnel entrance gaped before them and they all observed with frozen awe. Slowly, they began to trickle in.
"Beware the darkness!" Feren shouted, his voice ringing eerily through the dense silence of the cavern, "We know not what may yet dwell here after all these years."
"Or if these walls will yet hold," muttered Galion with a glance to the grand stone pillars nestled in the walls. His voice carried more than anticipated and everyone swiveled about and stepped lightly in the manner of hunted deer.
Fires were lit, casting eerie shadows in every crevice and appearing so very small in the utterly black expanse before them. The wounded were made as comfortable as possible on any given platform and provisions were distributed. This took several hours and Feren was all but fidgeting to take out a party to search for the missing king.
The royal captain had been about to make a beeline for the main gates and fetch a horse just as Lord Elrond approached him. He gave a hurried nod of acknowledgement and forced his feet to stay in place as he pictured a map of the area in his mind and sorted through likely possibilities of where he might be.
Elrond appraised him with a wry smile that could have just as easily been mistaken for fondness.
Well, the Mountains of Mirkwood, for one. That is where Alagbara mentioned he was headed.
"May I have a word with you, Captain?"
Plans may have changed though... he might even be somewhere along the creek...
Feren nodded, his eyes straying back to the exit. "Yes, yes, is there a problem?" he asked distantly.
There's no reason for him to head south, I should think, so that marks off those outposts.
Elrond's shoulders hitched with a silent chuckle. "Captain?"
Oh! He might have made it to the Scarlet Fen. It is very likely if he went to replenish any provisions.
"Feren?"
Or he could be making it straight to the other stronghold, which means the southern outposts are still an indefinite option, though they are located a bit far west for where he was last seen...
"Oh yes, the rosters are on the desk, I want the reports by tomorrow midday," Feren murmured, his eyes glazed in thought.
Elrond rolled his eyes in exasperation and clasped the young captain's shoulder, startling him out of his musings.
"What? Oh, Hir Elrond. A word, yes? Pray, tell."
"Ah, well, I do know that it is not my place but I wanted to express a concern of mine..."
Feren nodded for him to continue much more attentively than he had before.
"Stores are running low, and we have only so much water. I propose you consider taking out a party to the lower levels and scour out the cellars for perhaps some more supplies?"
Feren nodded again, impatiently this time. "Yes, yes, well I am sure Galion can see to that."
He moved to bolt for the escape when Elrond grabbed his elbow and forced him to a standstill.
"I am afraid that such a request would need the command of a captain, not a butler," the Noldo said with a grin on his lips.
Feren glowered for a few beats until the information sank in and a blush crept up his cheeks.
"Oh... oh! Erm, of course." The ellon turned to leave, throwing Elrond a puzzled expression as if he had just been struck out of a trance, then settling for a glare and grumping off to dispatch a patrol of soldiers.
Elrond pursed his lips in a strained quirk, hands on his hips, before being beckoned away by the low moan of a wounded elf.
Feren stormed about with a thundercloud over his head.
"Dorthion!"
Said ellon jumped and whirled about, eyes wide.
Feren suddenly became irritated by the bite to his own voice as well as the low chatter of the other elves, the soft rustle of blankets, the crackling of fires, the distant skitter of stone on stone, and the faraway hum of the river—everything. He wanted to leave and he wanted to leave now.
"Captain, is anything amiss?"
It was irritating how everyone always asked him if something was wrong. Why must they always do that?
Making a considerable effort to soften his voice, Feren relayed his orders. Dorthion saluted smartly with a bit of fright about him, (which Feren thought was annoying) and turned to organize his partners, Tauriel at his heel.
Finally, Feren sighed mentally, strutting purposefully to gather up his pack. Head held high, he caught a glimpse of Galion's suspicious demeanor and quickly ducked away to avoid his accusing gaze, sliding his pack smoothly over his shoulder, and moving with urgency to escape the prying eyes of his peers.
Almost there...a bit more... He stretched out his hand to unfasten the gate when Galion's voice from behind made him jump and screw his eyes shut in irritation.
"And where do you think you're running off to, Captain?" His voice was irritatingly silky.
Feren did not spare the butler the full weight of his glare. "Out."
Galion rested his hands on his hips and pursed his lips with an ever-so-slight twitch of his brow in the very picture of 'oh, really?'.
"You wouldn't be seeking out a certain golden-haired Sindar king by any chance, hmm?"
Feren continued to bore down on Galion with every ounce of ill temper he possessed (a considerable amount, really).
Galion gave him a dispassionate retort in the form of a flick of his lashes and quickly straightened.
"Wait a moment, I need to gather up my things."
"You are not coming with me, butler," Feren returned heatedly, though his anger was not entirely there.
Galion took on a condescending pose and paid no mind to the ellon's fuming; (yes, this was very irking).
"I swore an oath too, remember?" Galion hissed accusingly, drawing back when the captain flinched slightly as his words from their previous argument were turned backwards on him.
"Even if it was different than yours, it was still to ensure Thranduil's safety above my own, and I see no less honor in that," Galion continued quietly in an attempt to take the sting of his earlier words.
Feren sighed despondently. "There was never a question of honor, Galion, just of authority."
"Do you think being trained to fight gives you authority like that, Feren? Am I any less capable than you in our duties?"
Feren pinched the bridge of his nose, an inkling of his former irritation appearing on his brow but then instantly vanishing. It seemed his words from weeks ago had stuck with his friends and it was his fault for not seeing it.
"It is not like that—"
"Ah, I see. It is because I have not yet done anything worthy of a ballad or—or praise in general, like you. Do you think that I do not know that, Feren? Do you think I do not wish to be able to wield a weapon as you do? Do you not think that day does not haunt me each time I fit a blade to my hand, that I do not hear the—" his voice cracked painfully and he bit his cheek to compose himself.
"I am no warrior, Feren. But I am coming with you. You forget that it is I who first befriended him and brought us together."
Feren massaged his temple with a conflicted grimace. Galion had countered his irritation with sincerity and he knew not what to do. It was true that the secretary was no warrior which would certainly slow him down... but how could he refuse those hurt, glittering eyes?
He wanted to console his friend, tell him that Feren thought no less of him than any loyal warrior, but he did not want to lie. He respected the ellon very much and held him close to his heart, but Feren simply didn't understand.
The captain knew that Galion had fought in the Last Alliance along with his family and had returned with no one but himself. The war haunted him, and he had not been able to pick up a sword ever since. He knew not the details, but the ellyn kept mostly to themselves.
Yes, ellyn. It was a topic Galion and Thranduil talked of at times. Locked away in a room with hushed voices that ceased the moment he asked for permission to enter.
He supposed he wanted something to share with Thranduil as well.
"Galion, I didn't mean that—"
The ellon fought to keep stoic as he retrieved his pack from a cold corner of stone.
"Have no qualms about me slowing you down. I will go at the pace I see fit and you can go where you please. You took no oath to protect me at any rate and—"
The words stung and Feren interrupted the ellon with a fierce embrace, murmuring into his ear,
"I have taken no oath on your behalf, but would do such in a heartbeat, mellon nin," he said, tightening his hold when the slighter ellon shuddered slightly and buried his face in the captain's shoulder.
Galion wriggled out of the younger ellon's arms after a few beats to readjust his sliding pack. He observed Feren with a calculating scrutiny as if willing himself to read the other's mind.
"...I suppose you can come," the captain said with the hint of his former wry smile.
"Perhaps you two would be so kind to allow me to catch my breath before running off again?" a voice rasped.
Both ellyn whirled about, thoroughly startled.
The sight that met them melted their hearts to the core.
"Elbereth."
Thranduil limped inside the gates, being heavily supported by Alagbara under his arm. An open gash ran across his forehead to the side of his temple and his hair was disconcertingly stained red. His garments were sooty and torn and he cradled his free arm to his chest, hunching over it as if breathing pained him.
Galion was first to react and ran forward, all but tearing the ellon out of Alagbara's hold and crushing him in a fierce embrace akin to the one he had recently shared with his other gwador.
Galion was quickly pushed away and replaced by Feren who held onto the Sinda with equal vigor.
"Ah— Feren—" he wheezed lightly "—I am certain that every bone in my body was already broken and I do not think Filendis will appreciate it if you shatter them too."
Feren drew back as if the contact had burned him. "Right, right I'm sorry I—"
Galion blinked rapidly, sniffing inconspicuously and passing a hand over his eyes. Feren's eyes glimmered with their own relief.
"Ah now, don't get overly sympathetic, you know I hate that."
Galion huffed out a shaky laugh and embraced his friend again, taking care to handle the ellon lightly and whispering in his ear: "I knew you would be alright, gwador. I knew you would."
Thranduil leaned back and flashed the Silvan his (bloodstained) teeth. Which of course, promptly set Feren off.
"Healer, we need to get you to a healer," he murmured, bracing himself under the Sinda's shoulder again.
Alagbara stood by, an odd smile on her face that was not quite mischievous, but not quite fond either.
"He may have a broken rib about to run his lung through, if that's a concern to any of you," she said off-handedly.
Galion's eyes widened before his old chastising disposition resurfaced.
"That's it, I'm taking you to Filendis and you aren't about to protest. Galion fetch my cloak if you will, I don't think he will survive another touch."
"But Legolas—"
Feren froze at the name causing the Sinda to break off. Galion carefully drew a cloak about the ellon's shoulders and pulled up the hood.
"Is he alright?" he croaked, eyeing them warily.
A few beats passed. Alagbara observed attentively through narrowed eyes.
"...Well he is now," Feren said, earning a clout upside the head from Galion. "Maybe..."
Thranduil fixed Galion with a piercing glare. "Tell me."
Galion wet his lips and began slowly, "He... misses you very much..."
And he almost died for my inattentiveness. Ineffectiveness.
"You will tell me every spare detail of what has become of my son; where is he?"
"Not until after Filendis sees to you," Feren scolded, helping him limp forward.
Thranduil merely glared at anyone in his line of sight, casting his eyes about the cavern and the fires that burned distantly within it.
"You have some explaining to do," he bit out in the usual kingly tone he wielded.
"You're talking..." Galion muttered somewhere behind him, but Thranduil was unable to whirl on him with a scolding glower.
Filendis was promptly located and sworn to secrecy not to reveal the identity of his new patient just yet. After killing his shock, the master healer dutifully began to make his examination.
Thranduil stared despondently at the stone beneath his feet, his demeanor uncharacteristically solemn.
Feren, still being soft from the ellon's sudden reunion, knelt down anxiously and asked the Sinda if there was yet something that pained him. A sarcastic retort or scathing glare was what he fully expected, not an uncomfortable silence.
"Something pains me yes..." he began uncertainly.
"Where?" Filendis said, not looking up or pausing from his buzzing about a pile of herbs.
Thranduil sighed. "There was a boy. I left him at the settlement back west and—"
Galion's concern-clouded eyes quickly cleared. "Ah, Mit—Mithir—"
"Minaitir," the Sinda corrected swiftly, his eyes lighting up. "So then you do know if he is alright?"
A smile spread over Filendis' face as he leaned over his pile of supplies, mirrored by Feren. "Yes, he is quite fine. He has taken to Legolas, it seems."
Thranduil visibly relaxed with a breathy sigh and defeatedly peered up to a proffered draught from the healer.
"I am afraid that your informant was correct and there are indeed several broken ribs in dangerous proximity to your lungs. I would have you drink this quickly so that I may work, for postponement of this treatment can bring nothing but further harm," the healer informed.
The ellon complied, tipping his head back and swallowing the potion in one draft. He scarcely had time to grimace at the odd taste before he slumped back on the cot, unconscious.
The healer began his grim work.
oOo
Legolas had been mentally bashing his head against a wall while Minaitir rambled on in his terrible speech about secret gardens and codes in ribbons when a flicker of silver-gold caught the edges of his periphery. He whirled about, struggling to his feet with an arm clamped over his side to better meet the sight and instantly wished he had remained sitting when he glimpsed the searching face of his father.
His breath caught in his throat and he remained leaden, disbelieving. A smile gleaned through him and he bobbed to catch Thranduil's eyes.
But they were fixed on something else.
Minaitir shouted delightedly and was already at the Sinda's side before one could even blink. Thranduil sank down to his knees and swept the child in his arms with a strangled sound of protest from Feren.
Legolas stood in the distance. Tears welled up in his eyes and hurt in his heart and he could not tear his gaze away from them. He swallowed thickly as his vision blurred over and suddenly, he didn't exist.
Not fair not fair not fair not fair! his mind screamed. Minaitir is not Thranduil's son, I am!
Oh really? Are you certain you are not simply his prince? Bound to him by duty?
Legolas slammed that slithering voice out of his mind as his eyes bored holes in the babbling elfling's back. Emotion swirled around him like a hailstorm.
Thranduil looked up.
Legolas bit down the flutter in his middle and used an iron will to keep himself staring back, expressionless.
The Sinda rose, taking the elfling by the hand and coming to stand in front of his son (or prince?). Something envious glistened in his eyes that was quickly blinked away.
A soft smile spread over the king's lips, but it did not move Legolas' steeled jaw or weeping heart.
Uncomfortable fidgeting came between them and Thranduil opened his arms wide in beckoning coupled with a sorry excuse for a warm smile.
Legolas did not move. Whether it was his pride or shock preventing him from doing such, one could not know.
Thranduil moved forward on his own, wordlessly enveloping the golden ellon in a loose embrace, then pulling away with a quick kiss to his temple. That uncomfortable smile remained glued to the king's face and Legolas continued to stare hard, (perhaps searching for a trace of moisture in his eyes as he had seen with the other elfling, and finding none).
Ice blue irises flicked in concern to Feren and Galion who only offered the slightest of shrugs.
A small hand tugged on the Sinda's sleeve and he looked down, a genuinely warm smile lighting his face.
Legolas' racing heart was steeped in ice and he knew he could bear their presence no longer. Swiftly turning on his heel, he dashed to the interconnecting hall (though tunnel seemed a more appropriate word).
Once out of sight, the golden ellon slid down the wall, burying his wet face in his knees and huddling into a ball. He felt so small. So unimportant; nonexistent.
The hushed voices regained volume in the adjacent chamber when a youthful voice chirped up,
"I do not think Leg'las likes me very much. I'm rubbish in this br'thering business anyhow."
Thranduil's voice rolled out, "Nonsense. Legolas has not been behaving very courteously. I believe I will need to have a talk with him when he gathers the courage to show his face again."
His tone was conversational with only a hint of admonishment. Had Legolas seen reason, he would have taken the words for nothing more than what they were and ignored the barb. But the fact was that he was not in his right mind. So he took the words and twisted them to feed his own hurt.
Legolas shot to his feet and ran down the compact corridor, tears burning his eyes and irking him further.
The tunnel narrowed, pressing in on all sides. The walls were reduced to rubble and dust showered off the ceiling as he swept by. Sliding to a stop, he settled down on the floor, turning a rather large stone over in his hands.
He wanted to believe that he was acting childish and scolded himself so. But he knew he could not deny the facts. The way Thranduil noticed the elfling first—smaller as he may be. The way the ellon had lit up at the elfling's attention. The way he accepted him into the family.
Legolas shared many more years with his father than did this—this stranger. That elfling did not deserve to steal from him. Yes, that is what it was. As soon as Minaitir had shown up, all he had done was steal from Legolas.
Steal his time with useless chattering. Steal his pride by having the nerve to call him 'brother'. Steal his sleep with periodical whimpering, and steal his composure with talk of a mother's love.
No.
Legolas did not want a brother. And he would have it no other way.
He was tired of the fake smiles and the nods of respect and the way he was treated as someone... different.
Back in the human and dwarven trade town he would spend hours propped outside the tent, watching the bustle of the streets.
The market was most active in the early lights of the morning. Potatoes were perhaps the most popular crop there. The chairmen would retire to the inn at the brink of twilight and stay up singing and laughing for several hours into the night. The butcher swept out his shop every other day unless it was windy. The baker's daughter was sweet on one of the border patrolmen and would bring him pastries at noonday twice a week. People went about their business in clusters, talking and laughing and sharing tales and suggestions.
There was no scattering about to part the way in the street for some nobleman. No stoic nods or forced smiles masked over clenched teeth. Nothing more important than worrying about what would be the next day's meal.
There was just simplicity. Equality. Community and love. No fearing your own father or working to present a suitable image every waking hour.
If he lived that life it wouldn't be so easy for his family to break apart so. Or for him to be replaced, or be treated like he didn't matter outside the walls of duty.
His hands froze, clenching around the rock. He drew back his hand and slammed the stone into the opposite wall, promptly shooting to his feet and retreating to his chambers, leaving the boulders in the tunnel walls to crack and settle.
oOo
"Meeting is adjourned."
The composure of the room broke with the shuffling of robes and rattling of oaken chairs against the stone floor. Nobles filed out, leaving Elrond alone with the king.
A demeanor of deep thought was etched into the Noldo's fair face.
Thranduil raised his brows expectantly. "You wanted a word?"
Elrond looked up abruptly. "Oh, yes, yes. I wanted to speak with you on the manner of foresight."
Thranduil leaned back in the large ornamental chair as if settling in for a long ride, his left arm still in a sling. He initiated a drink but Elrond waved the offer away.
It had been three days since the king had returned from the Mountains of Mirkwood, battered and breathless, but already things were beginning to come into place. Most of the palace had been scoured for any disagreeable company and any leftover rations that were distributed among the peoples. Hunting parties were being dispatched and citizens from all over the forest were beginning to trickle in and aid with the cleaning to eventually take up residence in the city of caverns.
He had not seen Legolas since his return, but had been assured by Feren that he was fulfilling his duty quite effectively. Thranduil made a mental note to talk to him later.
"Foresight, you say? Have you seen anything of importance?"
"Well, now that you mention it, I am not certain."
Thranduil took a draught from his goblet. "Do tell."
Elrond then took the liberties of describing the vision he had when in the traveling company of Galion and his sons on the way to Greenwood. Oddly enough, at the mention of the uncovered sort of talan settled in the boughs of a sweeping willow overlooking the pond, the Sinda became solemn and melancholic; his eyes faraway and distant.
Finishing, Elrond said, "Do you recall such a place? Your captain and butler alike knew naught of it."
A small pause. "I do know the place of which you speak," he said shortly.
Elrond blinked. "Will that knowledge aid you in making sense of the dream...?"
Thranduil kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall. "The garden you saw was cultivated by my wife," he began, and realization dawned on Elrond. "The talan you mention—a flet—I built myself. Celeblessil and I would often meet there in our youth. No one else knew of it." A hint of a smile broke his clouded features. "It is located here in a grove near the caverns. A hidden tunnel brings you directly to it from a certain hall in the corridors. I believe that you foresaw the summons to this very place."
Elrond nodded. That made sense.
"What about you, hir nin?"
At this, Thranduil turned to look at him. "Me?"
"Have you seen anything of importance? Galion told me of your having odd dreams."
Thranduil laughed and drained his goblet with a distasteful look from Elrond. Dorwinion felt similar to the sensation of burning embers sliding down your throat.
"I am no seer," he said with a huffed chuckle.
Elrond cocked his head to the side, waiting.
Realizing the elf lord was sincerely waiting for an answer, the Sinda sobered.
"Ah— well yes. I have seen some—disturbing things," he said, drawing the words out and dipping his head.
A subtle quirk of lips. "Do tell."
"I saw—I saw a forest. My forest. It was in shambles. Shadow choked the very air." His expression became haunted and he once again took on that far-off manner of his, eyes glazed as if seeing things that the Noldo could not.
"Elves laughed and sang in a clearing. The Shadow crept up and suddenly in their place stood grim warriors. They took—they took the children. The children are gone.
"There was—a river of blood. From the young ones. I was drowning and—and I saw my father, dead at the foot of the Black Gates. And then there was that Eye, wreathed in flame," the Sinda's eyes snapped back to the present. "It was killing the forest, Elrond."
Elrond furrowed his brow and stroked his chin. "And have there been any others?"
"They are coming much more frequently than before and are all similar to what I have described."
The Noldo's eyes shot to Thranduil, flaming and fierce. It seemed a trick of light flickered across his face. "What do you mean by 'more frequently than before'?"
Thranduil stiffened and it did not go unnoticed by Elrond. He was caught. It would take careful maneuvering to get himself out of this corner. Though he felt like perhaps he did not mind so much if Elrond did find him out.
"I had other dreams of the like... Before Dagorlad."
Elrond narrowed his eyes dauntingly. "Dreams of what, exactly?" he said with a stern edge.
"...The destruction of Greenwood."
"By this Shadow?"
That was it. He could hide no longer.
"No, by flame. Dragon."
Elrond lifted his chin in appraisal and leaned forward into the conversation.
"This has nothing to do with the reason you use a Concealment unless I am mistaken." His brows rose.
Thranduil smiled somewhat slyly. "Perhaps..."
He didn't have to tell Elrond everything. But it felt rather... relieving to have opened up a bit. Like the ways of his old life plagued by his father's adviser was ended and now renewal sat at the horizon as the dawning of a new day.
Elrond took the hint and pried no further on this subject. There was certainly more to this ellon than met the eye, and despite all his shortcomings, Elrond liked that. Others would often accuse him of being sympathetic of the underdog, but he would just say that perhaps they are misunderstood. Perhaps that was another gift learned from his childhood; simple-mindedness was for those who would not embrace the truth, for reason often comes in layers.
"About this Shadow... do you have any inklings as to what it may be?"
"I know not what the Shadow is. But I can feel it. Times are changing in this forest. Darkness prepares itself to strike much harder than before and I fear that war is upon us."
A few beats of silence passed.
"We must be prepared."
Elrond stood suddenly, followed by the king.
"I feel that I must return to my realm. Talk of this Shadow has me concerned and I must see that we take certain precautions against this danger as well."
Thranduil nodded in understanding. "I will prepare a party for you then."
Elrond inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Hannon lle." He turned to leave, pushing open a grand oaken door with tooled leather workings like cascading vines aside. It was in little things like these that the Noldo marveled at the wood-elves' way of unity with the Song and how it had become so very dear to them.
"Ah—Elrond?"
The ellon turned back to the room and cocked his head to the side. Thranduil's gaze flickered to the floor uncertainly and Elrond narrowed his eyes slightly.
"I just wanted to say— thank you. For everything." It seemed to have taken great effort for the Sinda to bring the words out in the open. Elrond found himself smiling at the typical bluntness of his kind. He found himself appreciating it.
"Of course, mellon nin."
A small, genuine smile touched Thranduil's face.
Elrond made a move to exit, but was once again stopped by the king's voice. This time, it was tinged with mirth.
"And Elrond?"
"Yes..."
"Do teach your twins proper war-stratagem etiquette. I dare say they will be at a loss the next time battle fails to provide them any... per se explosives, dragons, or the ability to devour a mortal soul, hmm?"
Elrond threw back his head and let out a peal of laughter.
oOo
Estel busied about the room, drawing items out of drawers and a wardrobe and stuffing them into his pack with abandon that would have him on kitchen duty for a month under Glorfindel. His door suddenly banged open and he picked up the nearest item in defense, which was, oddly enough, an ornamental hairbrush that appeared scarcely used.
The intruder was just the familiar golden head, though, and Estel let the comb bounce onto the bed with a weary sigh.
"Must you always blunder about like a troll? I thought you wood-elves were supposed to be graceful," he muttered.
Legolas only laughed with a tinge of bitterness, taking up the young human's comb and examining it. "I never forgot the fateful day you did the same to me." He draped himself out on the bed with a sigh of his own, still turning the comb over in his hand. "Now I exact my bloody vengeance."
Estel scoffed fondly, raking his hair out of his face and ramming his rumpled clothes to the bottom of the pack to have room for his food supply.
Legolas watched him from over his feet, scrunching up his nose in distaste and absently aiming to pummel the adan in the back of the head with the comb. It missed and clattered loudly onto the floor.
"Your aim has failed, I see," Estel said, bending to pick up the offending projectile.
"Hair things were not made for throwing," the elf returned with a disdainful sniff. "Too unbalanced."
"I can name a few other things that are unbalanced," Estel shot back, ducking over a smug half-grin.
At this, Legolas shot upright with a scowl, his hair still immaculately (and annoyingly) neat.
"When was the last time you used that comb, anyhow? A year? A decade?"
It was Estel's turn to scowl and reach out for the nearest thing to toss at the elf, which was—disappointingly—nothing.
The Sinda slid off the bed and took hold of the young human's shoulders with a lingering chuckle on his lips.
"You must write to me."
Estel stepped back and bent low at the waist, elaborately sweeping out his arm. "Your wish is my command, Highness."
Legolas briefly rolled his eyes, which Aragorn responded to with a tug on one of the ellon's braids that offered an amusing look of mock-affront from the latter.
"I will write, I will write!" Estel assured with a light laugh.
A charming smile lit up the elf's eyes, though he was most likely not aware of himself. His hand remained on the other's shoulder.
"Estel?"
The human cocked his head in expectancy.
"Take care of yourself, mellon nin."
Estel smiled wide, pressing a hand to his heart in the customary elven gesture. The next thing he knew was a streak of gold disappearing out the window.
He walked away, shaking his head fondly.
oOo
Legolas found himself at his father's side in the mouth of a large window in the upper levels of the cavern where stone parted, dappling the inside with warm beams of sunlight. They silently watched the mounted figures below disappear under the dense cover of the trees.
The elder Sinda's heavy stately presence diminished the earlier lightness in Legolas' heart from his interaction with Estel. It seemed he could no longer postpone the 'talk' his father had in store for him. An air of stiff cross-ness had already settled about him.
His heart clenched in his chest as a piercing gaze settled firmly on the side of his face, seeking his eyes. Willing himself not to react sharply, Legolas slowly turned to meet Thranduil's eyes, taking care not to appear cowed or otherwise conspiratorial. This was not the first time he would be admonished and certainly not the last so all he could do was brace himself and breathe it out.
"Legolas."
Even staring directly at the speaker, the ellon couldn't help but jerk a bit at the sharp voice.
Thranduil eyed him surreptitiously. "You know we must speak about Minaitir."
Legolas turned away, not being able to meet the intense depths of the king's eyes and studied his boots. Mustering a steady voice he simply said, "Yes."
A slight flicker of approval crossed the Sinda's face as he whirled around to take leave to a more private area only to be met with Tauriel and Dorthion emerging from an interconnecting hall, trailed by a bubbling Minaitir hand-in-hand with healer Aldaner, the elleth's eyes crinkling in a merry chuckle.
Thranduil's face slightly softened and Legolas couldn't help the bitterness rising in his chest, forcing himself to keep his eyes blank.
Tauriel edged behind Dorthion, fidgeting anxiously, then considerably settling when the king gave her the smallest of solemn nods in atonement. She couldn't help the smile that spread over her lips at the gesture; she was forgiven and now with Dorthion, everything was going to be right again.
"Hir nin, Captain Feren sent me to deliver this draft of the patrol rosters to you. He informs that it is vital they are reviewed and amended by dawn on the morrow," reported Dorthion after a bow of respect.
Thranduil took the folder and sighed despondently. "Thank you, General, I will see to it that they are delivered to the captain upon completion," he said with a curl at the corner of his mouth.
Puzzlement shattered Dorthion's composure. "Hir nin forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I am no general."
Thranduil raised a belittling brow as if the answer was the most obvious thing on Arda, yet a glimmer of amusement shone openly in his eyes. "You are now."
Flustered beyond words, Dorthion laughed shakily and ran a hand through his hair, Tauriel joyfully joining hands with him.
"My greatest thanks for being permitted to fulfill this honor! I know not what to say," he said with eyes alight in the most vibrant of summer green and such a brilliant smile stretching his lips that made the courtesy a joy in itself to deliver.
"Thranduil!" Minaitir shouted, ignoring Aldaner's half-hearted attempts at quieting him. Waiting for no response, the elfling continued his ramble, "Thranduil you must come quickly! I found a secret tunnel that goes to a secret part of the woods just like in the story you told me, you must come quickly!"
It nearly physically pained the king to refuse such eagerness in the child after seeing him doused in a cloud of grief as had been before, but he could not let his duties wait any longer.
Observing the conflict that crossed the Sinda's face, Aldaner knelt down in front of the child, taking his hands. "Thranduil has many chores to attend to since he failed to do them earlier and has to pay for it now. He cannot come with you now but you can show me your discovery if you like," she said with a kind, motherly smile.
Thranduil let out a relieved breath and shook his head at the sly look Aldaner shot him from over her shoulder.
The elfling looked up to the towering height of the king then back to the elleth healer kneeling in front of him. Legolas looked away, hoping he came off as disinterested and would not have to drag along behind the elfling.
The ruse worked and the elfling nodded happily in consent, taking the elleth's hand again, his eyes shining in adoration.
"Not all of the tunnels have been searched and it would ease my heart if you would accompany them, General Dorthion," the king said with a pointed look at the ellon who saluted sharply and was enthusiastically led away by Minaitir.
Legolas did his best to melt into the wall.
Tauriel stared after them with an achingly familiar love.
"Thank you for doing that, hir nin. It means the world to him," Tauriel said, daring to glance at the king's face.
Thranduil nodded in acknowledgement and relief washed anew through the elleth when she detected no animosity from him. It was difficult to believe but it seemed that he had truly forgiven her.
"You love him," Thranduil said and Tauriel started a bit at the unexpected intervention.
"With all my heart," she said without the slightest hesitation.
The Sinda raised his brows and nodded suggestively, giving her room to argue.
She bit her lip and studied the wall. "You do not think that it is too soon? Long have I known him for he was my brother's closest companion. He has done me a great kindness and saved my life and I find that I had cared deeply for him for a while now."
Thranduil's smile was small but kind. Tauriel marveled at this new attitude. "It is genuine, I know that as well as you do," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I can see it in your eyes, Captain."
Heat flushed her cheeks but she found herself taken aback by the station of which he addressed her.
"Captain?" she croaked.
He rolled his eyes unbecomingly. "Ai, have all my warriors gone deaf?"
It was as much of a verbal forgiveness as she could get and her eyes shone with the prospect of it.
Legolas was startled out of his absent reverie by a sudden booming that shook the very stone floor they stood on. A shrill scream froze the elves' veins.
Oh dear Valar do not let it be...
A cloud of dust billowed out of one of the corridors and the trio wasted no time in running straight for it. The sound was unmistakably of the collapsing of stone and it came from the same direction Minaitir and his little informal escort had disappeared in.
Heart pounding, Thranduil sprinted down the hazy tunnels, squinting against the thick dirt the clogged the air.
Minaitir you cannot leave me.
"Minaitir?! Dorthion?!"
They skid to a stop at a stone obstruction that brought the collapsed tunnel to a dead end.
"Aldaner! Dorthion!"
Dorthion, no—no you are alive you have to be—
Stones skittered as they settled and the haze eventually dissipated enough to make out what had happened in the darkness.
Legolas' throat caught. Desperate breaths rushed in and out of his mouth and his knees nearly gave out from under him.
A bloody arm and a mess of chestnut hair were the only things visible through the rubble.
Hands shaking, Thranduil reached out and took a step forward, nearly recoiling as his foot met the stone with a disturbing squelch. A small pool of blood seeped from the base of the rocks.
He pressed his fingers to Aldaner's wrist then quickly let go as if it burned him.
There was no pulse. His face said it all.
A heart-wrenching wail shattered the air and the three clawed desperately at the rocks, screaming for aid.
A súlë-rendering realization slammed into Legolas with brutal reality and he did not even notice the tears streaming down his face.
This was the tunnel. He had thrown the stones into the wall and now he asked himself why he had been such a fool.
Great Elentarí above, I have just murdered three elves!
oOoOoOo