Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.
Epilogue.
(A/N: For JastaElf in particular, but also for those of you who wanted a little more. jenolas.)
Aragorn's death had been a grief too hard for Legolas to bear, as he himself had always known it would be, and he no longer resisted the call of the sea. So it was that barely a year after the passing of King Elessar, Thranduil stood on the banks of the Anduin, watching sadly as the ship Legolas had built sailed down the mighty river to the sea and into the West. The final image of his golden haired son, his face alight with anticipation, one hand resting gently on the shoulder of his friend, Gimli as they stood at the bow and waved goodbye, still brought tears to Thranduil's eyes, even though he knew in his heart that he and his son would one day be together again.
That had been centuries ago, and Thranduil's pleasure in the green, sunlit forest of Eryn Lasgalen had waned with the fading of his people from Middle Earth. The only joy he now seemed to find was in the forest of his dreams, as he wandered among the trees of Valinor arm in arm with his beloved Queen. He was becoming overwhelmed with a longing to be with her and their son and he knew that before much longer he would join them in the Undying Lands.
Before he left Middle Earth forever, he decided to pay a final visit the remains of the Elven realms that had flourished during the time of his kin. It was a sad journey, for nature had reclaimed most of what was hers, and the light of the forests had dimmed so that even places once only able to be seen by elvish eyes had become well hidden. In these realms, the forests were no longer inviting, so he continued on until he reached Ithilien, and the part of the woods that Legolas and his friends had long since left. On his arrival he found, as he had in Lothlorien and East Lorien, no sign that Elves had ever been there, and even the memory the trees had of the Fair Folk had faded to a greying mist of shadow.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor, the flickering changes from light to shadow reflecting the uncertainty that had entered into Thranduil's thoughts in recent times. He knew that there was little left for him in Middle Earth, but it was harder than he had expected to make plans to leave.
The lonely Elvenking wandered around amongst the trees that still flourished in Ithilien, and was surprised when he heard the sound of childish voices, arguing loudly in a nearby glade. Curiosity overcame him and he quickly climbed into the trees and made his way soundlessly along the branches to a position above where the children were fighting.
"Grandpa says there are no such things as Elves," the younger of the two shouted at his older companion, pushing him to emphasise his point.
"Well, my grandpa is the King, and he said that once there were many Elves in this forest, and they used to sing and dance in the starlight. He knows more than his Steward and besides, they were friends of his great, great, grandfather!" declared the elder child hotly, not touching the younger one, but glaring daggers at him all the same.
"Well then show me where they once lived," challenged the Steward's son.
"Around here somewhere," said the Prince, vainly searching for a sign, becoming angrier at the smirk on his friend's face, as he taunted his older enemy.
"See, I told you there were none! My Grandpa is smarter than yours!" he exclaimed, poking out his tongue for good measure. They were prevented from any further argument by the sound of someone approaching, and an adult voice calling their names.
"Cease your squabbling immediately. It is such undignified behaviour for young princes," admonished the grey haired man who was accompanied by one of the King's guards. "Your fathers are not pleased that you wandered away from the hunting party. Return with me at once!" ordered the one Thranduil assumed to be the grandsire of one of the errant youngsters. He smiled as he recalled dealing with similar problems between Legolas and Elrond's sons when they were mere elflings.
That night he as he slept in the branches of an ancient tree, he dreamed again of Glorfindel and Elrond, raising their wine glasses in invitation to their friend.
"Come, mellon nin, we miss you," whispered a voice in his mind that he easily recognised as that of Elrond.
The image faded to be replaced by that of his beloved wife, only instead of walking in the woods, he was watching her gently holding the babe Legolas had placed in her arms.
Thranduil's heart allowed him no other choice but to follow them to the Undying Lands.
Epilogue.
(A/N: For JastaElf in particular, but also for those of you who wanted a little more. jenolas.)
Aragorn's death had been a grief too hard for Legolas to bear, as he himself had always known it would be, and he no longer resisted the call of the sea. So it was that barely a year after the passing of King Elessar, Thranduil stood on the banks of the Anduin, watching sadly as the ship Legolas had built sailed down the mighty river to the sea and into the West. The final image of his golden haired son, his face alight with anticipation, one hand resting gently on the shoulder of his friend, Gimli as they stood at the bow and waved goodbye, still brought tears to Thranduil's eyes, even though he knew in his heart that he and his son would one day be together again.
That had been centuries ago, and Thranduil's pleasure in the green, sunlit forest of Eryn Lasgalen had waned with the fading of his people from Middle Earth. The only joy he now seemed to find was in the forest of his dreams, as he wandered among the trees of Valinor arm in arm with his beloved Queen. He was becoming overwhelmed with a longing to be with her and their son and he knew that before much longer he would join them in the Undying Lands.
Before he left Middle Earth forever, he decided to pay a final visit the remains of the Elven realms that had flourished during the time of his kin. It was a sad journey, for nature had reclaimed most of what was hers, and the light of the forests had dimmed so that even places once only able to be seen by elvish eyes had become well hidden. In these realms, the forests were no longer inviting, so he continued on until he reached Ithilien, and the part of the woods that Legolas and his friends had long since left. On his arrival he found, as he had in Lothlorien and East Lorien, no sign that Elves had ever been there, and even the memory the trees had of the Fair Folk had faded to a greying mist of shadow.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor, the flickering changes from light to shadow reflecting the uncertainty that had entered into Thranduil's thoughts in recent times. He knew that there was little left for him in Middle Earth, but it was harder than he had expected to make plans to leave.
The lonely Elvenking wandered around amongst the trees that still flourished in Ithilien, and was surprised when he heard the sound of childish voices, arguing loudly in a nearby glade. Curiosity overcame him and he quickly climbed into the trees and made his way soundlessly along the branches to a position above where the children were fighting.
"Grandpa says there are no such things as Elves," the younger of the two shouted at his older companion, pushing him to emphasise his point.
"Well, my grandpa is the King, and he said that once there were many Elves in this forest, and they used to sing and dance in the starlight. He knows more than his Steward and besides, they were friends of his great, great, grandfather!" declared the elder child hotly, not touching the younger one, but glaring daggers at him all the same.
"Well then show me where they once lived," challenged the Steward's son.
"Around here somewhere," said the Prince, vainly searching for a sign, becoming angrier at the smirk on his friend's face, as he taunted his older enemy.
"See, I told you there were none! My Grandpa is smarter than yours!" he exclaimed, poking out his tongue for good measure. They were prevented from any further argument by the sound of someone approaching, and an adult voice calling their names.
"Cease your squabbling immediately. It is such undignified behaviour for young princes," admonished the grey haired man who was accompanied by one of the King's guards. "Your fathers are not pleased that you wandered away from the hunting party. Return with me at once!" ordered the one Thranduil assumed to be the grandsire of one of the errant youngsters. He smiled as he recalled dealing with similar problems between Legolas and Elrond's sons when they were mere elflings.
That night he as he slept in the branches of an ancient tree, he dreamed again of Glorfindel and Elrond, raising their wine glasses in invitation to their friend.
"Come, mellon nin, we miss you," whispered a voice in his mind that he easily recognised as that of Elrond.
The image faded to be replaced by that of his beloved wife, only instead of walking in the woods, he was watching her gently holding the babe Legolas had placed in her arms.
Thranduil's heart allowed him no other choice but to follow them to the Undying Lands.