Chapter Two

King Thranduil, before the Quest

I can hear voices from down the hall: Laire's and Legolas's. Sometimes I wonder why they still bother with each other. They both know that nothing can end well for each other. I pity Nárello for even trying to reach Laire. Her heart belongs to Legolas, even if her hand belongs to him. I would try to keep them apart, but that is beyond even my power. I would ask her father to break off the betrothal, but that is not my business. I should stop thinking about this. I should do what her father did and find someone else for Legolas to marry.

But other matters press. Legolas runs down the hall. I am quite sure that he comes to argue with me about Rivendell. But no, he surprises me.

"Father!" I walk down the stairs and embrace my son.

"My boy." I notice that he is grinning. "So you are happy about your responsibility, then?" I drape an arm over his shoulder and together we walk down the hall. My eyes wander from his face to my palace walls, walls that I am sure will not stand after Sauron's armies attack. They are covered with tapestries. Some illustrate great battles of Elves and Men, some that I have seen, some that I have not. Some show dragons talking with Elves, deep in their lairs. I leave it up to my son to protect these now.

"I'm honored that you believe I can do this. Because I can, father. And I will. But…"

I turn to face him, letting my arm drop. He avoids my eyes.

"What is it?" My voice comes out harsher than I intended. I do not want him to reconsider. He needs to do this. He cannot stay in Mirkwood for the rest of his life. It is about time that one from our line earns some glory.

"I am worried about Laire." I frown and begin to walk down the hall, away from him.

"Forget about her, Legolas. She is not yours and never will be. She belongs to Nárello. He will make sure that no harm comes to her. You must also do your best to make sure that no harm ever reaches Mirkwood. He should not have a reason to protect her."

Legolas steps forward, one long stride, and looks me right in the eyes. He is the same height as me. His eyes are the same color as mine. But his hair is lighter, and most of his face belongs to his mother. I had forgotten how much I miss her when I look at him. I refuse to let myself soften. I am King. I must do what is best for my people.

"Go, Legolas, now, and forget Laire forever. She is not your concern. Our people are your concerns. Your kingdom is your concern."

Legolas opens his mouth to argue, but the look on my face stops him. He turns to leave. I watch him go. I feel nothing, I tell myself. I am King. It is my duty to do what is best for my son and my people.

But the question still echoes in my head: Is it for the best…?

And the answer is always the same: No…

I turn and walk back down the hall.