Chapter Six
Days passed. Search parties were called back with the treat of the orcs return. Memorial services were planned for the missing and lost elves.
During that time, another hypothesis was considered. It was thought possible, that while they were sending the child through, the orcs attacked. Several elves might have jumped through in fear of their lives.
Of course, this theory was brushed aside by the warriors who said they were not taught to flee, but to fight, even if ill prepared, until death. They thought it possible the elves could have been thrown into the porthole after being slayed.
Legolas was the only one who held the answers, if he was conscious for most of the battle. But his condition had not changed. His pale figure lay limp on the bed he had been moved to. The king insisted the healers look after him in his own quarters. Then, if he were to pass, he would be in peace and his spirit would live on in the room. The through of sending him to the Gray Havens was unthought-of. He'd never make such a journey alive. He seemed to hold no choice whatsoever. No matter what was done, the same fate would consume him through the eyes of most elves. But the king convinced the healers to keep at their work.
Weeks passed by. Things started looking better for the young prince. His wound slowly healed. But the elf did not wake. The king stayed by his side as he mumbled uncertainties in his sleep. Uncertainties of his 'failure' and 'if only's'. Thranduil knew his son had given up on life.
One evening, as the father sat grieving over his son, he felt anger wash over him. His fists clutched tightly.
"Why do you give up on me?" he muttered fiercely through clenched teeth. "You are a warrior! A fighter! You do not give up! You must leave the past behind you and discontinue living in it!" At this time he was shouting. Guards flew through the door, but the king got up and swiftly brushed past them. They swore they saw tears in the king's eyes.
~~~
Darkness ensnared him. Memories played before his eyes. Parts of his life that he wished he could change laughed in his face. Trapped, that's where he was; trapped in the darkness.
Anger from an unknown source filled the environment. He felt torn. Part of him wanted to go toward the anger, seeking it out. Another portion crept back, afraid it might slash at him. The curious part won and he sought out the anger. He had been searching for light and surprisingly, the anger led straight to what he had been searching so long for. Now that he found it, he wasn't sure he wanted to go to it.
The anger diminished and the light started to fade and the darkness grew strong again.
'No! This may be the last light I shall see!" he thought as he pushed himself towards and through the light.
~~~
His eyes jerked open and he gasped a breath of fresh air. Pain shook in his unused muscles. Darkness instilled him.
'I shall be trapped forever,' he thought.
But it seemed oddly different. This darkness seemed peacefully familiar. . .
The pain that he felt was more than a thought, it was there. He could move. In the previous darkness he seemed to have no control over his actions. Now he could act, but it caused burning sensations to ripple through his body.
'If I have control of my actions. . .' He attempted to swing his legs over the side of the bed to stand, but pain swelled through him and forced him still.
'A! Valar!' he cried in his mind.
Sound. His ears twitched in alertness and he cleared his thoughts to zone in on it. A thought suddenly occurred to him. 'Am I awake? Have I been captured by orcs?' The day's events flooded back to him, or what he believed to be the day's events.
"Kama. . ." he whispered aloud. "Alca (ray of light)." His head throbbed. "Kama, amin mela lle (I love you)," he told the darkness. Then added, "I always will. I will find you if it is the last thing I do."
~~~
He was losing his only son. No, he had lost him. There was no way he would rouse now.
Thranduil shifted his weight onto his other leg and put most of his weight on his arms which were clutching the balcony railing. He was alone. . .again. After his wife had died, he felt like he could go on no longer and fell into a deep depression. If not for his son, he would have gone to the undying lands or passed on from a broken heart. With his son leaving him, he felt mixed emotions: hatred, grief, anger, helplessness, regret. . .
Turning from the balcony railing, he collapsed onto a nearby chair. He held his head in his hands and wept. Deep inside, his heart begged this to be a dream. His mind, however, knew the truth. He had been drying to think this was a dream since the beginning. He had wished this same wish when the queen was in the state. And the dream he felt was accepted as reality, for he did not wake.
'You must be strong. Your people need you.'
'No they don't. Look what I've done for them. I am destroying them slowly. They'd be better off with a different king. . .They'd be better off with Legolas. . .'
~~~
"My Lord. We have brought you back something," an evil voice snared.
"So you have returned. Why so few?" an even more malice voice answered.
"Elves. Mirkwood elves. They were punished severely because of their interference."
"Hmm. . .yes. What is this gift you speak of?"
The orc stepped aside while another made its way past with a squirmy figure in his arms. He threw her to the floor and she cried out.
"A human child? Is this the girl?"
"I don't know, Sire, but she was with the elves."
"Yes. . ." He forced the child's head up with a tight hand squeezing her cheeks and turned her head, examining her. Her eyes were wide with pain and fear, but she stayed silent. Perhaps her emotions kept her from crying out again.
"Who are you?" the voice demanded.
"K-K-Kama," she squeaked out.
"This is not the child!" he roared throwing her to the floor. The orcs around tensed up, afraid of what the Great One would do. Looking at her lying helplessly on the floor, he calmed his tone and added, "But she will do."
If one was present there, they might have actually thought they heard a sigh of relief spread through the room. But, then again, no one present would think of doing such a thing, fearing how the one superior to them would react.
'But it may be,' the voice thought to itself. 'She is of the right age. And to be with the elves, yes that is where I suspected she would be. Ah! If those filthy orcs hadn't lost her, I wouldn't have this problem. . .She doesn't look at all like her father. Well, we're going to have to change that. Yes, she will do. I will mold her to be stronger than he. Yes, YES!' and he cruelly laughed.
~~~
Days passed. Search parties were called back with the treat of the orcs return. Memorial services were planned for the missing and lost elves.
During that time, another hypothesis was considered. It was thought possible, that while they were sending the child through, the orcs attacked. Several elves might have jumped through in fear of their lives.
Of course, this theory was brushed aside by the warriors who said they were not taught to flee, but to fight, even if ill prepared, until death. They thought it possible the elves could have been thrown into the porthole after being slayed.
Legolas was the only one who held the answers, if he was conscious for most of the battle. But his condition had not changed. His pale figure lay limp on the bed he had been moved to. The king insisted the healers look after him in his own quarters. Then, if he were to pass, he would be in peace and his spirit would live on in the room. The through of sending him to the Gray Havens was unthought-of. He'd never make such a journey alive. He seemed to hold no choice whatsoever. No matter what was done, the same fate would consume him through the eyes of most elves. But the king convinced the healers to keep at their work.
Weeks passed by. Things started looking better for the young prince. His wound slowly healed. But the elf did not wake. The king stayed by his side as he mumbled uncertainties in his sleep. Uncertainties of his 'failure' and 'if only's'. Thranduil knew his son had given up on life.
One evening, as the father sat grieving over his son, he felt anger wash over him. His fists clutched tightly.
"Why do you give up on me?" he muttered fiercely through clenched teeth. "You are a warrior! A fighter! You do not give up! You must leave the past behind you and discontinue living in it!" At this time he was shouting. Guards flew through the door, but the king got up and swiftly brushed past them. They swore they saw tears in the king's eyes.
~~~
Darkness ensnared him. Memories played before his eyes. Parts of his life that he wished he could change laughed in his face. Trapped, that's where he was; trapped in the darkness.
Anger from an unknown source filled the environment. He felt torn. Part of him wanted to go toward the anger, seeking it out. Another portion crept back, afraid it might slash at him. The curious part won and he sought out the anger. He had been searching for light and surprisingly, the anger led straight to what he had been searching so long for. Now that he found it, he wasn't sure he wanted to go to it.
The anger diminished and the light started to fade and the darkness grew strong again.
'No! This may be the last light I shall see!" he thought as he pushed himself towards and through the light.
~~~
His eyes jerked open and he gasped a breath of fresh air. Pain shook in his unused muscles. Darkness instilled him.
'I shall be trapped forever,' he thought.
But it seemed oddly different. This darkness seemed peacefully familiar. . .
The pain that he felt was more than a thought, it was there. He could move. In the previous darkness he seemed to have no control over his actions. Now he could act, but it caused burning sensations to ripple through his body.
'If I have control of my actions. . .' He attempted to swing his legs over the side of the bed to stand, but pain swelled through him and forced him still.
'A! Valar!' he cried in his mind.
Sound. His ears twitched in alertness and he cleared his thoughts to zone in on it. A thought suddenly occurred to him. 'Am I awake? Have I been captured by orcs?' The day's events flooded back to him, or what he believed to be the day's events.
"Kama. . ." he whispered aloud. "Alca (ray of light)." His head throbbed. "Kama, amin mela lle (I love you)," he told the darkness. Then added, "I always will. I will find you if it is the last thing I do."
~~~
He was losing his only son. No, he had lost him. There was no way he would rouse now.
Thranduil shifted his weight onto his other leg and put most of his weight on his arms which were clutching the balcony railing. He was alone. . .again. After his wife had died, he felt like he could go on no longer and fell into a deep depression. If not for his son, he would have gone to the undying lands or passed on from a broken heart. With his son leaving him, he felt mixed emotions: hatred, grief, anger, helplessness, regret. . .
Turning from the balcony railing, he collapsed onto a nearby chair. He held his head in his hands and wept. Deep inside, his heart begged this to be a dream. His mind, however, knew the truth. He had been drying to think this was a dream since the beginning. He had wished this same wish when the queen was in the state. And the dream he felt was accepted as reality, for he did not wake.
'You must be strong. Your people need you.'
'No they don't. Look what I've done for them. I am destroying them slowly. They'd be better off with a different king. . .They'd be better off with Legolas. . .'
~~~
"My Lord. We have brought you back something," an evil voice snared.
"So you have returned. Why so few?" an even more malice voice answered.
"Elves. Mirkwood elves. They were punished severely because of their interference."
"Hmm. . .yes. What is this gift you speak of?"
The orc stepped aside while another made its way past with a squirmy figure in his arms. He threw her to the floor and she cried out.
"A human child? Is this the girl?"
"I don't know, Sire, but she was with the elves."
"Yes. . ." He forced the child's head up with a tight hand squeezing her cheeks and turned her head, examining her. Her eyes were wide with pain and fear, but she stayed silent. Perhaps her emotions kept her from crying out again.
"Who are you?" the voice demanded.
"K-K-Kama," she squeaked out.
"This is not the child!" he roared throwing her to the floor. The orcs around tensed up, afraid of what the Great One would do. Looking at her lying helplessly on the floor, he calmed his tone and added, "But she will do."
If one was present there, they might have actually thought they heard a sigh of relief spread through the room. But, then again, no one present would think of doing such a thing, fearing how the one superior to them would react.
'But it may be,' the voice thought to itself. 'She is of the right age. And to be with the elves, yes that is where I suspected she would be. Ah! If those filthy orcs hadn't lost her, I wouldn't have this problem. . .She doesn't look at all like her father. Well, we're going to have to change that. Yes, she will do. I will mold her to be stronger than he. Yes, YES!' and he cruelly laughed.
~~~