Note: Yes, I know Legolas is much older in canon, and yes I know Faerun isn't a 'mystical land across the sea' but I just thought I would remind everyone that this story is AU.
"Legolas…" the soft voice caught Legolas's attention as he stood in the smoky cavern, fire billowing up at him from below the precipice where he stood. It was a familiar voice and as Legolas peered through the smoke, a lone figure appeared before him, as if she had come from thin air.
As she seemed to float towards him, Legolas looked upon her yellow hair, cerulean eyes, and gentle facial features. She met his eyes as she moved closer to him.
"You know who I am," she said, her voice serene despite the surrounding chaos. The screams and cries of the dying echoed in Legolas's ears.
Yet, Legolas focused on the woman. She wore a set of Elven leather armor with a pair of blades fastened to her belt. There was a beautiful cherry wood bow- one Legolas felt drawn to- secured to her back, along with a quiver of arrows.
"I have not seen you before," Legolas responded to the woman as she reached forward to brush a finger against his cheekbone. He gazed into her eyes, trying to search his thoughts, his memories.
"You have seen my face before," the woman whispered. "Not so long ago, for you were a small Elfling when last we met. I am Tinnurrien. The one who gave you life."
Legolas inhaled. "You are my mother?" he stammered. He tried to focus on her face, to imprint it on his memory. He had so many questions. She was a complete blank spot in his life.
"Yes," the woman held his gaze. "My son, it pains me to see that you do not know of me. That your father has hidden me away in his memories, where I have lived in darkness, buried in his heart… just as my body lies buried in these mountains."
Legolas gazed around him. "Where is this place?" he asked.
"This is Gundabad, the place where I met my end. Where I fought for our realm. It was not so long ago in the life of an elf." As she said that, a spot of blood spread across her torso, and before Legolas's eyes, her skin turned grey and mottled, flaking away bit by bit as if consumed by fire.
"My son, I come to you, reaching across the void of death to bring you a warning. What happened here threatens to come to pass once more." She stepped back as Legolas watched in horror. "An evil has risen in the north. An evil that I cannot name but its eyes look towards you, towards Thranduil. Your lives are in danger. Come find me in the place where my bones lie and only then will you understand…"
As she said that, she slowly faded away, and instantly, Legolas was in his own bed, sitting up as the knock on his door chased what vision remained in his mind.
Legolas blinked wearily, trying to grasp what his mother was trying to tell him. Danger, warning.
Before he could dwell on his dreams any longer, the door to his chambers burst open and Thranduil strode in and pinned him with a narrow glare. "Still slumbering?" he questioned with a scolding tone. "Are you a prince of the woodland realm or are you a dwarven drunkard who overestimated his own fortitude?"
Legolas responded by scrambling out of bed and getting dressed and retrieving his weapons and armor before his father could throw more scolding remarks his way. As he stood in front of Thranduil in the doorway, he regarded the king curiously. In all the decades of Legolas's life, his father had never mentioned his mother. And Legolas had learned long ago not to bring the matter up. But now, questions circled about as he remained troubled by the dream that lingered in his thoughts.
If there was danger, he had to tell Thranduil, but he knew that this was a dangerous subject to bring up to the king.
"Our visitors await our attention," Thranduil began, holding up a hand to stop his son from speaking as he moved aside and let him pass through the doorway. "The older one has a sharp tongue that is not to my liking."
Legolas thought about the two beings he had apprehended yesterday in the forest. They were being held in the dungeon at the moment, but the elf prince had been curious about them, particularly the younger one.
"I will speak to the son," he said. "He seems more reasonable than his father. Who do you think they are? Have you ever heard of their race before? Drow elves of the Underdark?"
"No," Thranduil replied as the two of them strode down the hall, walking beside one another through the palace. "But I have heard legends of a vast land far beyond Middle Earth. Across the seas and far beyond even the undying lands. It is almost mythical, as no one to my knowledge has ever gazed upon it."
"Maybe they are telling the truth then," Legolas suggested. "That they do come from a place we have not yet seen."
"They are still intruders," Thranduil reminded him. "These days, the only things that visit without an invitation are the foul spiders haunting these lands."
Legolas glanced at Thranduil, seizing the opportunity to feel him out about his vision. "What of these spiders?" he questioned. "What if they have a more sinister origin? Gundabad perhaps?"
Thranduil stopped sharply and whirled on his son, fixing him with an incredulous glare. "Why do you bring up that vile mountain?" he sneered angrily.
Legolas shrunk back, alarmed at his father's reaction. He locked eyes with the Elvenking, trying to understand. For a moment, he thought he saw the emotion in those fierce eyes. Could that be sorrow? Regret even? It lasted only a second, but it was all Legolas needed.
It had been a long time since the young elf had felt that he and his father were anything more than distant comrades. Thranduil seemed to actively work at keeping Legolas at a distance, never letting him get too close. Since he had reached an age of reason, Legolas had done his best to please his father. He carried out his duties, became a finely honed Elven warrior. He protected the forest and his people with everything he was. He was young, very young for an elf, having lived only four decades compared to the countless centuries his father had existed on this earth. But even in his short time, Legolas had built himself a reputation for bravery and honor.
Yet even his bravery and honor didn't seem to loosen Thranduil's hardness towards him. He didn't recall a single moment in his life when Thranduil had shown him affection. To his father, he was only another soldier carrying out his duties, nothing more.
But in the briefness of their glance, Legolas considered maybe he struck a chord with his father. Gundabad. If the mere mention of the mountain damaged the wall Thranduil had built up against his own son, what other secrets could his father be hiding?
"It is not of import," Legolas said after a pause, lowering his gaze. "I will go question the son."
"I should think so," Thranduil retorted, his voice itching at warning. He eyed his son once more before whirling and striding forward, the two of them descending into the dungeon.
They came upon the cell that held the two dark-skinned elves moments later. Immediately, the older one was on his feet while the younger one sat quietly on the bench behind him.
"Do all visitors to your realm receive such treatment?" the older drow demanded. "Thrown into a dungeon with no food or drink as if we were common criminals?"
"I do apologize if you have a complaint against your accommodations," Thranduil replied sarcastically. "Perhaps you thought you had arrived at a luxury inn?"
"This is the king," Legolas explained to the prisoners. "He wishes to have a word with you. I assume you both have names?"
"And if we do?" the older one crossed his arms across his chest smugly as the younger one rose from his seat and moved to stand beside his father.
"Father," the younger one said softly before stepping forward, gazing at the two elves with his large lavender eyes. "My name is Drizzt Do'Urden, and this is my father, Zaknafein. We want to assure you we have no hostile intentions toward you and your kingdom. We are as unfamiliar with these lands as you are of us. We would be happy to answer what questions you have, for we have no loyalty to the wicked people of Menzoberranzan."
Legolas noted the calm sincerity of his voice and glanced at Thranduil. Zaknafein shifted uncomfortably as his son introduced them.
"We shall see how true your intentions are," Thranduil sneered before glancing at Legolas. "I would like a word with the older one. You can remain here and question the younger."
Legolas nodded and moved towards the gated door of the cell. He grabbed the key hanging from a hook nearby and unlocked it. Pushing the door aside, he motioned for Zaknafein to move forward.
"Try nothing," he warned as Zaknafein stepped out of the cell and glanced between the two elves. To back up his meaning, Legolas pressed a hand to the hilt of his short blade, which was secured at his belt.
Zaknafein regarded him for a moment. He seemed to search for a witty retort, but decided otherwise. He glanced behind him at Drizzt, who gave his father a look of concern. Seeing the look in Drizzt's eyes disarmed him of any sharp-tongued remark and he turned back to Thranduil.
"Lead the way then, your majesty," he said sarcastically. Thranduil complied, and the two of them headed up the stairs and out of the dungeon.
Once they had gone, Legolas turned his attention to Drizzt. He found the lavender eyes staring pointedly at him. "You do not need to be concerned with your father's safety," Legolas assured him. "Thranduil will not hurt him." At least I hope, he added mentally.
"He is no stranger to pain and suffering," Drizzt replied simply. "Whatever information you want of him, you will find it hard to gain if he is unwilling."
"And you?" Legolas wanted to ask this young drow many questions about who he was, where he had come from. But now, standing before him, he had picked up on something more pressing. He had seen the looks that father and son had shared, looks of concern and understanding. Something he envied.
"I suppose I am more trusting of elves than Zaknafein," Drizzt responded. "He has never encountered your kind, and in my city we are taught to hate them. Zaknafein has no reason to question that hate."
"Where have you encountered elves?" Legolas asked. Drizzt winced and dropped his gaze. Legolas watched him curiously.
"They taught me that surface elves were a terrible enemy responsible for banishing the drow to the Underdark," he began slowly, bracing himself for the experience that defined his life. "All drow are taught this. As a child, I was told that when I feel pain, I should direct my anger to the elves for they are to blame for it all."
Legolas frowned. "And you believed such vile lies?" he sneered. When Drizzt looked at him again, he could see the pain in his eyes.
"For a long time, I did," he admitted. "But I learned the truth for myself when I was chosen to join a raid on the surface. The sole purpose of the raid was to kill elves, because the death of elves brings glory to the spider queen."
Legolas stepped back, his anger rising as he heard that. "You killed my people?!" He hadn't heard of any sort of attack by these beings. "Who is this spider queen?"
"Lolth," Drizzt responded, a look of disgust on his face as he uttered the goddess's name. "She is the reason my people are evil. She is an evil goddess who demands obedience. They are fanatically devoted to her, and her imposed laws have governed Menzoberranzan for thousands of years. My people do not value honor or compassion or even life. They only value her."
"And this goddess tells you to kill elves?"
Drizzt nodded. "When I accompanied the raiders to the surface, I learned the truth of it all. That my own people were the villains!" Drizzt paced back and forth in his cell, raising his voice with emotion as he recounted the incident. "We came upon an elf village and before I could blink, the drow unleashed destruction upon it. They slaughtered every elf they could find, and they enjoyed it! So much blood was spilled that night. It appalled me, I could not even move as I watched the carnage. Until an elf child ran into me near the edge of the forest."
Legolas flinched as he listened to the appalling story. Had he misjudged this drow? Was he more venomous than he had originally thought? He waited with bated breath as Drizzt continued.
"They cut her mother down. And the others were so focused on the carnage that they didn't see her. So I covered her in her mother's blood and had her lay in the grass. When my brother found me, I convinced him I had killed her."
"You spared her?"
Drizzt nodded. "I kept to the deception all the way back to my city, where I was praised for the apparent kill."
Legolas put it all together in his head. He could clearly see the pain etched in this drow's face. His confession fell out like a landslide. That Drizzt would share something so personal and profound and traumatic with a stranger who held him prisoner was something Legolas had never considered before. Legolas wasn't sure he was worthy to hear this story, but the trust certainly honored him.
"That was the beginning of our escape," Drizzt explained. "When my mother, Matron Malice, discovered my true deeds, she wished me dead. I became a renegade then, a social deviant, one who turned my back on Lolth by allowing an elf child to live."
Legolas felt shaken to the core. He knew there was much more to this appalling story, but he could also tell from the raw grief in this drow's eyes that everything he said was true. To think that such an evil city could exist and that showing mercy could have such a detrimental outcome for this young one.
Without hesitation, Legolas pulled the key out of his pocket and opened the door of the cell. Drizzt looked at him, eyes glistening with moisture. "You are no enemy of mine," Legolas informed him. "No matter what words your father and mine exchange, I will see to your protection for as long as you remain here. As guests."
Drizzt cautiously stepped out of the cell. "Can I have your name?" he asked, still shaken by the emotional confession.
"Legolas," Legolas responded. "Come, I will show you this place."
And a deep and trusting friendship formed between Drizzt Do'Urden and Legolas Greenleaf that day.