I got another chapter up! Hope you enjoy. And hi to tinuviel greenleaf for
her review!
His eyes opened slowly as sunlight drifted into the room. Groaning, Thranduil lifted his head and sat up, the memories from the night before flooding back.
'You are not my son.'
The words broke his heart, causing him more pain than any injury his body had sustained. The echo of his voice nearly brought tears to his eyes. It had sounded so cold and uncaring. But it spoke the truth.
'You are not my son.'
As a child, Legolas had been joy in a worldly form. Everything had held delight for him, from the simplest trinket to the most intricate structure. He had been fascinated by everything: the trees, the birds, the sun, the stars, Dangers were unreal to him, stories to scare young elflings. He had laughed for everything and everyone, always carrying a smile. But something had changed.
'You are not my son.'
As he had grown, Legolas had learned that not everything was a game. His stories were, in fact, real and caution was a necessity. But still he carried that smile and would often laugh at nothing. He began to sing, songs about light. Everything was light to Legolas; he was a child of the light.
'You are not my son.'
As his years extended, Legolas began to age in the eternal way elves did. He didn't laugh as often, but sang more. The realization that not all parts of life were sweet and joyous hadn't made his love for life any less. For Legolas, loving and life went hand in hand. With the light.
'You are not my son.'
That was how Thranduil had remembered him when he had left to speak with Elrond about the escape of Gollum. It had been quite some time before he had seen his son again. Even then, it had only been a brief reunion before Legolas had left again to travel. But when he returned, that was when Thranduil had noticed the change. He had known something was wrong, even before Legolas left with Gimli. He hadn't realized it then, but it was his eyes. Those blue eyes, once shining with a light from within, had dulled. They had continued to dull when he returned, when his abhorrent treatment of his father began. Day by day they had grown fainter until the light was no longer distinguishable.
'You are not my son.'
Thranduil rose to his feet, trying to ignore the pain laced with every movement. Those words echoed through his mind continually, bitterly. What pain they had caused. Yet they had seemed to hold more effect on Legolas than anything had in a long while. Could he have felt the pain as well?
'You are not my son.'
Thranduil sighed. He had known the risks he was taking at the time. But he hadn't cared then, and he didn't care now. He had lost his son.
His eyes opened slowly as sunlight drifted into the room. Groaning, Thranduil lifted his head and sat up, the memories from the night before flooding back.
'You are not my son.'
The words broke his heart, causing him more pain than any injury his body had sustained. The echo of his voice nearly brought tears to his eyes. It had sounded so cold and uncaring. But it spoke the truth.
'You are not my son.'
As a child, Legolas had been joy in a worldly form. Everything had held delight for him, from the simplest trinket to the most intricate structure. He had been fascinated by everything: the trees, the birds, the sun, the stars, Dangers were unreal to him, stories to scare young elflings. He had laughed for everything and everyone, always carrying a smile. But something had changed.
'You are not my son.'
As he had grown, Legolas had learned that not everything was a game. His stories were, in fact, real and caution was a necessity. But still he carried that smile and would often laugh at nothing. He began to sing, songs about light. Everything was light to Legolas; he was a child of the light.
'You are not my son.'
As his years extended, Legolas began to age in the eternal way elves did. He didn't laugh as often, but sang more. The realization that not all parts of life were sweet and joyous hadn't made his love for life any less. For Legolas, loving and life went hand in hand. With the light.
'You are not my son.'
That was how Thranduil had remembered him when he had left to speak with Elrond about the escape of Gollum. It had been quite some time before he had seen his son again. Even then, it had only been a brief reunion before Legolas had left again to travel. But when he returned, that was when Thranduil had noticed the change. He had known something was wrong, even before Legolas left with Gimli. He hadn't realized it then, but it was his eyes. Those blue eyes, once shining with a light from within, had dulled. They had continued to dull when he returned, when his abhorrent treatment of his father began. Day by day they had grown fainter until the light was no longer distinguishable.
'You are not my son.'
Thranduil rose to his feet, trying to ignore the pain laced with every movement. Those words echoed through his mind continually, bitterly. What pain they had caused. Yet they had seemed to hold more effect on Legolas than anything had in a long while. Could he have felt the pain as well?
'You are not my son.'
Thranduil sighed. He had known the risks he was taking at the time. But he hadn't cared then, and he didn't care now. He had lost his son.