Chapter 7

"Silme…" Thranduil turned at the whisper of the elven word for starlight. The voice uttering it flooded his mind with memory and grief. As he turned around, standing on the precipice, he saw her standing before him, looking as she had the last time he had seen her, clad in her hide armor, her bow at the ready. The day she had marched away from him, to war.

"Why are you here?" he demanded harshly, taking a step back as she approached. He didn't want to spend another second looking at this illusion that brought so many memories back to him.

"My silme, you have forgotten me," the one who was his wife, his beloved, moved as gracefully as the shadows as she came closer, not put off by his resistant reaction to her. Her eyes searched through him for answers. "My name has not graced your tongue since we parted."

"This is an illusion." Thranduil refused to give in to this, refused to accept that Tinnurrien could really be here, could reach out to him from beyond the realms of the dead. "I refuse to take part in this trick of the mind."

"And if it is no trick?" the elf raised a brow before reaching up and brushing Thranduil's cheek. "Do you remember when our paths last crossed? When our heated words caused my flight? Will you risk it again? Come find me in Gundabad. Come find me…"

Thranduil winced as the image faded away. He didn't like to be reminded of the battle he had refused to partake in, the one she had rushed off to partake in and never returned…

"What happened?" Legolas demanded as he strode into the hall of healing, Drizzt hot on his heels. He stopped short when he saw Thranduil lying prone on a sickbed. The sight caught the elf prince off guard. Never in a thousand years would he ever think he would see his father in such a state.

Thranduil was unconscious, a thin sheet draped over his body. His skin was pallid in appearance; his golden hair covered his bare shoulders as it hung limp from his head. Legolas couldn't take his eyes from the sight.

"He seemed in pain," came a deep voice. Legolas turned to see Zaknafein standing near the bed, watching the healers tend to the king. "We were talking and suddenly he fell to the floor and began convulsing."

Legolas regarded the drow suspiciously as Drizzt moved forward to stand beside his father. "You were the last one in his presence before this?" he said evenly, narrowing his eyes. Zaknafein only crossed his arms across his chest as his son glanced between him and the elf.

"I was not the cause of this," the older drow proclaimed, seeing the accusations in Legolas's eyes.

Legolas reluctantly accepted Zaknafein's innocence. He realized they had been quick to trust the drow, these elf-like warriors they knew nothing about, but as he and Drizzt had become such close friends, he was certain that they had no ill will towards them. Then again, Zaknafein and Thranduil did not exactly get along.

Thranduil didn't get along with many people, Legolas reminded himself. He knew that the elven king had plenty of enemies, but none would dare make such an attempt on his life within his heavily fortified fortress.

"He does not wake," the healer explained as Legolas faced him. "We have tried spells and magic. We don't know what caused this. We fear it may be beyond our skill to understand, much less treat."

Legolas swallowed and cautiously approached Thranduil's bedside. Looking over the prone form of his father, seeing his pale lifeless face, his head drooped to the left; the prince was overcome with emotion. He wasn't sure how to digest this. He knew that he and Thranduil never really got along, that they kept each other at arm's length, but in this moment, Legolas didn't see a king, he saw a father, the elf who raised him, who cared for him despite their differences.

Legolas kneeled down by the king's bedside and took his father's hand. This was certainly the most affection either of them had shown one another in Legolas's entire lifetime, but he didn't care. As he squeezed his father's hand, he felt a presence behind him and took in a breath as Drizzt draped a hand on his shoulder.

"The woodland realm lacks in the magic skill of our Noldor kin," Legolas explained, his voice husky as he kept his eyes on Thranduil. He glanced over to the healer, who looked solemn. "Will he recover?"

"We don't know," the healer replied. "We have given him what herbs we thought would help, but we cannot treat what we cannot identify. He remains in this deathlike state. His heart has slowed and yet there is no explanation."

Legolas felt helpless. He was a fighter, a warrior, he wasn't a healer. And if the healers themselves couldn't help Thranduil, then who could? As he thought that, his eyes fell to the king's limp hand in his grasp and he saw the rings on finger.

"Ithil Tinnu…" Legolas mouthed the name of one ring, a silver ring embedded with a milky white quartz stone. Carefully, he slipped the ring off of Thranduil's finger and got to his feet.

"Your majesty," the elven healer protested. But Legolas held up a hand for him to stop as he turned to face Drizzt. Hope and determination grew within him as he held the ring in his hand.

"Will you help me?" he asked, his eyes pleading. Drizzt eyed the ring and met the elf's eyes, looking puzzled.

"I'm afraid I have little knowledge in healing," Drizzt confessed. Legolas shook his head.

"Come with me," Legolas explained, grabbing the drow by the wrist and turning towards the door at an urgent pace.

"The ring is magic," Legolas explained as he and Drizzt left the healing room and hurried down the hall. "It is not as powerful as the three rings of power forged for the elves, but it's lesser magic was wielded by my father, and by his father before him. It is as old as the Eldar race."

"Magic can be dangerous if you don't know how to use it," Drizzt warned as they came into a side room down the hall. Inside, there were potions and crystals and various other magical implements.

The elves of the woodland realm didn't use magic like the Noldor elves did and Legolas knew he was a little out of his league in understanding these forces, but what little magic they did use was locked up in this room.

"I just need to contact someone," Legolas explained as he pulled Drizzt along and moved towards a large crystal ball in the center of the room. "The ring will help channel the energy."

He hoped. Legolas gave a nervous glance to his friend as the two of them knelt before the crystal ball. A wave of anxiety fell over Legolas as he put the ring on his own finger and then placed his palms firmly on the crystal ball. Closing his eyes, he took a breath and chanted in the ancient elven language.

"Put your hands on the crystal," Legolas instructed the drow. "Our combined strength should be enough to contact someone across the distances."

Drizzt did as he was instructed, and the two of them closed their eyes. Legolas focused his mind on the image of the elf he was trying to reach. He nearly fell back as he felt a surge of magical force course through him, but he forced himself to keep a grasp on the crystal ball. The ring on his finger vibrated.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a swirl of light within the crystal ball and slowly an image formed.

"You are not Thranduil," the beautiful woman spoke. Her eyes were warm as she looked at him with a knowing smile. "I have been curious about meeting you, Legolas."

"Lady Galadriel," Legolas spoke, bowing his head in respect. The lady of light was as gorgeous as the legends had said she was, and wisdom was apparent in her bright blue eyes. "Thranduil has fallen ill. I am seeking your help."

Galadriel's expression turned serious as she digested the bit of information. "What is his condition?" she asked.

"He remains in a deep sleep," Legolas responded, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "He complained of pain and then collapsed into convulsions. We don't have the magic skill to treat him. Please, I am seeking your guidance, my lady."

"You were right to contact me," Galadriel responded. She looked at him curiously. "There is more, I can sense it."

"I must travel to Gundabad," Legolas explained. The lady must be as magical as he had heard if she could sense his thoughts from such a distance.

"Do not discuss it over the distance," Galadriel warned. "You do not know what powers could be watching. If the king is at all able to travel, you must bring him to me."

Legolas nodded, understanding the instructions he was being given. He took in a shaky breath, feeling hope flow through him with this conversation.

"Don't worry, Legolas, prince of the woodland realm," Galadriel assured him. "Your destiny is laid out before you. I will see you soon."

With that, the crystal ball went blank and Legolas sat back on his heels, lifting his eyes to meet Drizzt. "We will go to Lorien," he explained to the drow. "To the house of the lady of light. Her magic is considerable and if anyone can help my father, it will be her."

"I think it would be wise to avoid using magic until you are confident," Drizzt warned as the two of them headed out of the magic room. Legolas nodded in agreement. His body trembled slightly as the magic that had ripped through him faded.

"Do your people use magic?" he asked curiously. Drizzt nodded.

"The drow are known for their skill as wizards and clerics," the drow confirmed. "Our academy is one of the most advanced in the realms. At least from what I understand, I have only seen a small sliver of the realms."

"Then you are a wizard?" Legolas thought about that. There were very few wizards on Middle Earth. A whole academy dedicated to them was of interest.

"No," Drizzt answered. "I only attended Sorcere, the wizard academy for a few short months. I am a graduate of Melee-Magthere, the fighting academy."

Legolas nodded his acknowledgement. He didn't know how magic worked in Drizzt's land or if it was the same as on Middle Earth, but he suspected the drow had a better grasp of it than he did, and he was grateful for his presence.

As they re-entered the healing room, Legolas turned to the healer. "Prepare the king for travel," he instructed, his voice confident with authority. He realized that until Thranduil's recovery, he was in charge of this kingdom and he was anxious about the idea, but he swore to himself that he would do his best. "We are taking him to the woods of Lorien."

The healers nodded, and Legolas prepared himself mentally for the journey ahead.