Author: Mirrordance
Title: Return
Summary: Post-LOTR. Legolas always felt at odds with his home kingdom. Though it's King by birthright, he fled it, building a prosperous colony in Ithilien. Just when all seems well at last, great dangers in Mirkwood call for the return of THIS King home.
* * *
PART TWO
* * *
That night, after dinner, he strode towards his father's hall after walking Gimli to his room. The dwarf despised being left, and was loathe also to leave a lonely Legolas to his own devices, but also understood the elf's ardent desire for privacy.
"Don't be alone for too long, elf," he said gruffly, even as his beady eyes clouded with his concern, "Good night."
Legolas walked the halls that were a vision of the familiar and the unknown, the new and the dreadfully old. He was the house's lost child indeed, and every step and corner in this palace was a bitter reminder of the fact that he may have returned far too late.
Steps came from around the corner, and Legolas looked up to meet the even gaze of his younger brother.
As was the case since his discovery of Legardo's treachery, the barest sight of him had Legolas' warrior instinct on end, and his fingers once again itched for his weapons.
~I came from the King's halls,~ said Legardo coolly, ~He did not say it expressly, but he awaits you. As he always has.~
~Thank you,~ Legolas said, stern but slightly confused.
~I find it strange,~ Legardo reflected, ~That even now, even with all that has transpired… you are still much preferred by him.~
~You must be fair,~ said Legolas coolly, ~You are a murderer. I am not. What could you ask of him, really?~
Legardo set his jaw, apparently slighted. ~I was not, before. And I no longer am. You must tell me, sire, what really sets apart a murderer from a deserter?~
~You deliberately misunderstand me,~ Legolas seethed, ~You know I did not desert. Do not pretend to be so callous. Your war here would have come to nothing if not for the war I fought elsewhere.~
~Still it was elsewhere,~ snapped Legardo, ~As you may have noticed, my lord, they have grown so desperate that they resorted to murderers and criminals like me. You were needed here.~
~I hold no shame for my actions,~ snapped Legolas, ~I do not even know why I bother to seek approval from you. From any of you,~ he sighed, ~What do you want from me, Legardo, truly? An apology for leaving? An apology for once being so well-liked? My sympathies for your plight when you grew up? My forgiveness for your actions? My defeat? Why do we even bother talking?~
~I don't know,~ Legardo admitted, after a quiet moment, ~I do not know.~
~I do not like wasting my time,~ Legolas said wearily, moving past his brother, ~I cannot bear to do things without point or purpose and worse, things that are also dreadfully frustrating. Excuse me.~
Legardo watched him leave, almost sadly. He hurt his older brother deeply, he knew, but his own pride was too great, it always was. He did not have the courage to call to Legolas and say, there was a point, there was reason why they had to talk. They were brothers, it was reason plain enough. They shared blood, if not character and spirit. They had the same father, and the same mother. They were bound by fate. There should always be a reason why they should talk, why they should sort what falling out they once had. But he kept his mouth shut and his pride intact. He turned away and left.
* * *
3011
Gritting his teeth in determination, Legolas shifted from defense to offense. He took a step forward and swung his sword against Legardo's. For the first time that night, Legardo was forced to take a step back, forced to evade. Legolas was fighting now, and a fierce warrior he was. He will take all that he desired.
His blows struck so hard it was like hitting rock. Legardo picked the wrong foe to court. While his own skills have been honed by time, this was a warrior's instinct he could not match.
Legolas' swings were perfect, well-calculated arcs that were the stuff of his legend. His precision was stunning, and Legardo soon found it harder and harder to ward off the vicious attack. He had to dodge so quickly he kept stumbling over his own feet.
In two more moves, Legardo was disarmed and on the ground, his sword soaring to the air and landing with a resounding, final clang some distance away, taken by the force of Legolas' assault. Two feet away it was, but it might as well have been two leagues. He will never be able to get it back.
Legolas stalked forward, and let the blade of his sword rest against his brother's neck.
~So it ends,~ Legardo seethed, looking up at the victor, his brother, who once again stole from him.
~I do not understand,~ said Legolas softly, ~I never will. Still I find I can forgive you for taking my life away from me. But what I cannot forgive, is that you found joy in it. My brother, my own flesh and blood.~
His voice trembled, though his eyes and his grip on his sword remained resolute. ~You break my heart. Perhaps this is why I cannot even find the heart to kill you. Or maybe it is because though your soul is black and bought, I still see our mother on your face, and ada, and Lesandro. But mostly, I find I cannot kill you because you are already dead to me, brother. It is over. Goodbye.~
Legolas stepped away, and turned his back on his brother, as much then in that moment, as much for ever.
Nose flaring, eyes afire, Legardo could not accept his defeat. Slowly and shakily, he got to his feet, drawing a dagger from the back of his boot.
~Legolas!~ Estel cried, having seen the motion.
Legardo lunged forward, plunging the dagger deep against his brother's back, and twisting it slowly.
~They said Lesandro had mother's kindness,~ Legardo whispered triumphantly against Legolas' ear, ~And you had the King's spirit. But I… I always had the cunning, brother. It is you who are dead, not I.~
* * *
3020
Legolas gasped and shot up awake. A dream. A nightmare. However which way he chose to call it, at least it was not real.
Or at least, not anymore…
The memory was so vivid that the wound upon his back—years and years old-- stung reverberatingly with Legardo's lethal strike. He blinked, surveying his surroundings, and the sharp pain receded the more he was able to ground himself in the present, rather than the past.
Tiredly, he rubbed his hands over his eyes. This truly was just fantastic. The moon was high up in the sky. He was just staring at it from his bedroom window, wishing he would fall asleep, wishing his turbulent thoughts would leave him for a moment or two, to let him rest from his long journeys. But he had barely slept a short while, when he discovered there was no real escape in sleeping, for the nightmares were a plague.
He knew his return home would be a great emotional burden. But Legardo, roaming around freely… it reawakened just the greatest of his pains and fears.
His head shot up as a shaft of light broke into his room with the quiet opening of the door. Instinctively, he reached for the dagger he kept beneath his pillow.
Searfin started when he found himself staring down the legendary, unrealistically accurate aim of one of the greatest elven soldiers who had ever lived. Legolas' eyes were bloodshot, and he emanated power and threat.
~I'm sorry, my lord,~ Serafin said quickly, quietly, ~I did not mean to… to startle you.~
Which was so much of an understatement that Legolas lowered his weapon, and some of his guard.
~Serafin,~ said Legolas tiredly, ~What can I do for you?~
~I am the guard at your door,~ Serafin replied, ~I thought I heard you in distress.~
Legolas waved the worry away, and Serafin hesitated at the door, wondering if it was a dismissal as well.
~My lord…~ Serafin began, unsure.
~Was I not simply Legolas to you before?~ the Prince asked, ~Were we not friends, Serafin?~
~Of course we were!~ Serafin said, too quickly for Legolas' taste, too false. The elf was his age-mate, their families were friends. They used to hunt orc together. They were even in the same patrols. It was a friendship that was lost after Legolas was in exile, and hardly regained when he first returned, just as it was hardly regained this time around.
Searfin took one step into the room, staring at the prince's face, wondering if he was welcome.
~Why does everyone treat me with so much reservation?~ Legolas asked him plainly.
~It is hard to let go of old habits… Legolas,~ replied Serafin, ~You were regarded as kinslayer for centuries, our one betrayer in a race steeped in a great history of glory and honor. When you returned from your exile, it was all very strange, you see. We were not quite sure if we could trust you, or perhaps it was more that we could not trust ourselves for having wrongly condemned you for so long. Were you mad at us? Were we mad at ourselves? And then… and then you've left sporadically since, not really giving us a great chance to know you again. And then the worst of the war followed, and suddenly the world was different. We all knew a hardship together as a people, one that you did not. Or perhaps you did, but... it was a hardship elsewhere. One we cannot recognize, one we cannot share. We're rather… uncertain by now if… if we share anything with you at all.~
Legolas stared at him, wanting to kick himself. Did his father not tell him just earlier this day not to ask questions he knew the painful, hateful answers to?
~I see,~ he said quietly, not quite knowing what else to say, ~Thank you… for your honesty.~
Serafin pursed his lips, and nodded, stepping back towards the door. ~Will there be anything else, my lord?~
~Call me Legolas,~ replied the elf prince wryly, ~And I do not need a guard upon my door.~
~It is by order of your father, Legolas,~ Serafin said quickly, not wanting to be caught like a helpless insect between two formidable rocks, ~He said you looked tired. He said you looked as if you do not sleep well. The King thought perhaps, it would put your mind more at ease… if you still cannot trust that you are safe here.~
Legolas bit his lip and nodded, accepting that Serafin was merely following orders he did not really have much of a right to countermand.
~If it eases your mind more, though,~ said Serafin, ~I guarantee you Legardo is changed now. He will not harm a hair on your head. I've had the privilege of fighting with him. He is a noble warrior. We are good friends. Now, I know, I've seen how he taunts you. And it is misleading. But his heart has been softened by the war, even if he does not show it to you. Have patience with your brother. 'Tis the only way he knows how to deal with you. He has given much for his hate. He certainly has reason to fear it has all come to naught.~
~I'm deathly tired of being the one who always has to have patience, the one who always has to understand,~ Legolas retorted, ~I have always taken such demands without complaint. Understand your brother. Understand your people. I've never understood. I never will.~
Serafin stood by, profoundly uncomfortable. His discomfort stifled the room, and Legolas took pity on him.
~I'm sorry,~ he said, ~I suppose I'm just… weary, in general. I'm sorry. Good night.~
~Good night, my lord,~ Searfin said quickly, exiting the room and closing the door behind him hastily, only too eager to leave. He had forgotten he was speaking simply to Legolas again.
* * *
3011
Lesandro's room, Legolas thought, looking around. This once housed my brother. This place once housed our childhood, and our dreams…
He suddenly paused, felt dismayed. The room has since been lived in. It smelled different. It felt different. Things were not where they were supposed to be. That chair didn't belong there. That table, that mirror… Those aren't his. He stepped towards the cabinets and threw them open. And he didn't find Lesandro's clothes.
His heart pounded. He felt an irrational anger. What is this madness?
~This is my room now, Legolas,~ Legardo said quietly from behind him.
Legolas took a calming breath before he faced his younger brother. He tried a smile, winced instead and abandoned the effort altogether. ~I am sorry,~ said Legolas softly, ~Of course it is.~
~Time may have stood still for you,~ Legardo added uncomfortably, ~But we have since moved on. Lived on. As we had to. It is the way of things.~
~I know,~ said Legolas quickly, ~I apologize. Truly, I do. You had to. I know.~
~But you cannot understand,~ Legardo said edgily, ~Can you?~
* * *
3020
Legolas shifted in his sleep, tossing and turning. His memories were his nightmares, and perhaps there was no sadder thing.
Searfin, standing outside his door, was alerted to his distress sound by sound. And he began to think, perhaps the golden prince's pain was not so distant, his war not so alien after all.
* * *
3011
~You know what they say in a murder,~ said Sala softly, ~follow the mithril. After the death, to whom does the treasure go? To whom does Mirkwood go? It is so hideously plain, isn't it? To whom does Mirkwood go, ghostly prince? At first I thought it went to you. But it actually landed on someone else's lap.~
Legardo's eyes widened. ~You liar! You poison my brother's mind with your manipulative words just as you poisoned all of our own kingdom against him centuries ago! Do not listen to him, Legolas!~
~I do not lie,~ said Sala coolly, ~At least not about this. I did not kill Lesandro. I would swear this on my name and that of my father's. I would swear this on your brother's grave. I would even swear this upon your kind mother's grave. I did not kill him.~
~Would you stake your life on that?~ Legolas asked him edgily, still unwilling to accept that perhaps, perhaps it really truly was Legardo who killed Lesandro. Brother… he thought achingly, fervently wishing his heart will not believe the elf lord. Things would be so much simpler…
~I already am doing so,~ said Sala boldly, and Legolas looked at him and knew. The elf lord was an avid opportunist, yes. But he was no murderer. Legolas turned to the turbulent, panicked eyes of his younger brother and knew from them too. This is the murderer. I am staring down Lesandro's killer. And I share his blood.
He knew now, for a certainty. No questions needed to be asked or answered. Legardo's look was telling, and Legolas had relied upon his instincts long enough not to trust them now. And once the heart knows, it cannot go back. It can create no pretensions or illusions, even with how fervently its bearer wishes to do so.
* * *
3020
Serafin hesitated by the door, his hand resting against the intricate knob. He felt like an intruder, an unwelcome witness. The prince was always an image of power and dignity. Even in their youth he exuded only the greatest respectability. His distress was a disillusion, hurtful to witness.
He turned the knob, and opened the door.
~Legolas?~ he called.
* * *
3011
~Why?~ Legolas asked his younger brother. To have a kingdom was a common dream, yes. But it was not desire enough to kill one's own brother for; at least, it never was, for Legolas. He could not comprehend what could be so great to gain in exchange for one's loved one, one's soul. He could not comprehend the traitorousness, the madness, the utter selfishness of it. His own blood… How had he not seen this festering evil? How could it have been a hatred so great and so well concealed?
~Oh, I did not dislike him,~ Legardo replied offhandedly after a moment wherein Legolas felt perhaps his question would not be indulged at all, ~I loved Lesandro, I did. Who could not? And when I mourned for him I truly, truly grieved. Each night ada and I would come to his grave, I mourned.~
~Then why did you kill him?~ asked Legolas, his voice a mere whisper in the room that was weighty with truths and secrets, weighty with a pain that thickened the air. Old wounds will be shown this night, old ghosts will rise. They will stir madly and break the heart before they can be put to rest at last.
~I did not,~ replied Legardo, looking away from Legolas and studying the gleaming sheen of his sword, ~At least not of my own will. That day you two rode to hunt orc, I was out with a company of our men, learning how to be a proper soldier. So that others may see me at last. So that ada and you, and Lesandro too will see I am as good as all the rest of you. I got separated from my group. I heard a sound and I shot without knowing for a certainty what was there. My arrow went wide. But I knew for a certainty that I hit something. It was only later did I realize it was him.~
~An accident,~ Legolas whispered, wondering if he should feel relief. His brother was not so evil after all. Perhaps he was just afraid. He was young. It was all right to be. Legolas could even forgive what was done to him as a result of Legardo's inept shooting and subsequent secrecy. He was young. He was afraid. All that he did afterwards was just a consequence of his one, unintended mistake. But after all the flow of truth, it was Legardo who would not let the story end there.
~Of course,~ said Legardo, ~they thought it was you. I was not a full soldier yet, from where else could I have gotten my arrows but from your stock in the palace? You had the arrows, you had the motives, you had the opportunity. Who else could it have been? And I was once more forgotten, but this time for the best. My best. I could not have come forward to save you, Legolas. You must understand, it would have been daft of me to do so. First because it meant giving up myself. Then because it meant giving up the kingdom I will inherit. But mostly, I did not wish to spare you.
~Oh, how entertaining it was,~ Legardo continued, ~to watch the golden prince fall. The golden prince of Mirkwood, kinslayer, and a coward killed in his pathetic attempt to escape.~
~Why do you hate me so?~ Legolas asked, heartbroken. He loved Lesandro greatly, and it pained him not to have been as good a brother to Legardo as Lesandro had been to him. He felt like a failure.
Legardo rolled back his eyes, ~You do not know how it is to grow up after you, Legolas. Thranduil's truest son,~ he spat out bitterly, ~The beauty of his mother, the spirit and skill of his father. You certainly left none for me, brother. You have taken much. I have only taken what is fair and right by me.~
~You have robbed me of my life,~ Legolas said shakily, his hands fisting with his mounting rage and frustration.
~And you have robbed me of mine,~ said Legardo, ~All is fair. All is right.~
* * *
3020
Legolas shot up awake again, and his hand reached for his dagger. He swung widely and accurately, his incomparable warrior's instincts finding his mark, even as his barest grips upon consciousness and logic held his attack enough to keep the sharp blade but a hair away from the intruder's neck.
~Searfin?~ he asked, blinking, confused to find the elf-guard standing over him stiffly, barely moving, barely even breathing in fear of that infernal dagger.
~This is an unhealthy habit,~ Searfin commented sternly, ~If you cannot calm yourself long enough, you should not be sleeping with any weapon.~
Legolas lowered the blade, but did not release it. He rose to his feet, and grabbed his dressing robes, hurriedly putting it over his sleeping clothes.
~My lord?~ Searfin inquired, hesitating, ~Where are you going?~
~There's something I must see,~ he said, heading for the door.
Serafin followed him, helpless and worried he was dealing with a madman. The prince stalked the halls purposefully, passing by servants who glanced at him warily.
~Searfin?~ they would inquire of the guard, who was left little choice but to placate them with his hands as he hurried to keep pace with the prince.
~You are doing little to dispel their wariness of you,~ he uttered to Legolas.
~I'm losing my mind,~ the prince said through grit teeth, stopping abruptly before the doors that led to Lesandro's old room. Legardo's room. He threw the doors open roughly.
And found it empty. It was so profoundly empty and unlived in. He stood by the entrance, staring at the nothingness that greeted him.
~I'm losing my mind,~ he said again, laughing shakily, running his hands across his face.
~Legardo no longer lives in the palace,~ said Serafin, ~His crime has denied him of his birthright. He lives in the soldier's quarters, and returns every now and again only to make reports. You have nothing to fear of him being nearby to harm you, my lord. You are safe here.~
~He still feels so near,~ said Legolas softly, sounding uncharacteristically defeated, ~It all feels so near. I cannot have him free, Serafin. And yet I cannot find the heart to have him tossed back to the dungeons. What to do, really…~
~I do not know,~ Searfin said, watching as the troubled elf touched the knobs of the doors and lowered his head, shielding his shamed face from sight, as he shut the room. The doors to this room were closed, but the issue very much was not.
* * *
The nights were unkind here, and he found himself rising to a morning still deprived of sleep. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that as long as Legardo roamed freely in Mirkwood, it was not a place he could find peace in.
He dressed for the day, and strode towards Gimli's room. He let himself inside, and found the dwarf sleeping most soundly. He watched with wry amusement, and not a small measure of envy.
He looked at his hands, and wrestled with temptation. The dwarf asleep and so vulnerable! The things he could do! He rubbed his chin in thought, and decided. The dwarf would get off easy, this time. He stuck out his index finger and poked at the tip of Gimli's nose.
Gimli's eyes snapped open, and he shot up with a gasp and a string of dwarfish expletives, making Legolas laugh.
"I could have chopped your merry head off with my axe!" Gimli exclaimed, "Fool elf! You should know better than to startle a dwarf warrior!"
Legolas waited as the dwarf composed himself, calming himself down. Gimli's face and tone softened as he stared at his friend's face.
"Curse you, elf," he said, determined to stay gruff and unhappy, "I cannot stay mad at you when you look at me with these sad smiling eyes! And it makes me mad that I can't be mad!"
Legolas chuckled helplessly, "It is a grave plight indeed."
Gimli looked at him, perceptive. "What is in that head of yours, aside from rudely disrupting my sleep?"
"We're leaving," Legolas said in a breath, "And we're never coming back."
Gimli's jaw dropped.
"I'm losing my mind here," Legolas said, his eyes burning, "I've lost much, and I desperately need to keep this part of myself, the kind that does not fear or hate. We will leave."
"And what of your ada?" Gimli asked, knowing the elvish word for 'father' lent the thought more tenderness, a consideration he felt Legolas needed to take.
"I'm tired of having to think of everyone else," Legolas winced, "I'm losing my mind, Gimli."
"But you've lost it long ago!" the dwarf argued, "Stay awhile! Maybe it all just takes getting used to."
"I wish to go somewhere I am missed when I am gone," said Legolas, "and loved when I am there. I'm tired of trying to win a game that has long been over. I've made up my mind. I'm leaving. You can stay if you want."
"Bah!" exclaimed the dwarf, displeased, "You are one of the few elves I will happily tolerate. Let me get ready. Talk to your father. I'm hoping he can change your mind, but your head is made of rocks and I doubt he will succeed. But I pray you hear him out. It would at least let me eat before we leave. My backside has not even recovered from the ravaging ride of that blasted horse and now we must leave again! Surely you know by now how much you are loved by me, at least!"
Legolas laughed. "I know, Gimli. I know."
* * *
Legolas found his father in the breakfast room. Thranduil was looking at him worriedly, and his father's heart could read the bad news resting in his eyes.
~I was informed of the disturbance last night,~ Thranduil said tentatively, studying his son's weary face, ~You do not look well, Legolas.~
~I…~ Legolas hesitated. He hated to admit to weakness, but what he was going to say was not merely true, he also knew it was the only avenue through which his father would allow him to leave. ~Perhaps it's because I am not.~
~I thought as much,~ Thranduil said softly trying valiantly to reign in his emotions, ~And what are your plans now? You will leave us again?~
~All this was never meant to be mine, ada,~ said Legolas, ~I suppose this is why all fate is seemingly against it.~
~You are to be the King,~ Thranduil said, raising his voice, refusing to be left, angry and dismayed at losing his control, his father's side dimming as his kingly ways were invoked, ~This is cowardice!~
Legolas' jaw set, his eyes burned. His pride was stirred and spurred and would not be defeated. ~Cowardice? Let it be as you deem it so, sire, but you cannot speak about things of which you do not know! A people should not have a ruler they cannot trust or respect. They made up their minds long ago. This game is played and lost. I am tired, and battered, and all but gone from here! You do not have to see your distorted face in their eyes. It hurts, ada, and it breaks what little is left of me!~
~You are right,~ seethed Thranduil, ~I cannot pretend to know what is you have to see. But if in the past you left to fight the war and it was not desertion, this is. This is.~
~I cannot desert that which has long left me,~ Legolas told his father, struggling with his voice, and struggling with the tears that were setting his gaze aflame.
Thranduil stared at his son sadly. He tried to look at Legolas from the eyes of a father, and not of a King. There was insurmountable grief here. Life has been unkind. He was too young to have known so much suffering. His eyes were aged, and not carefully. They were scarred and lonely.
~I only wanted to be accepted again,~ said Legolas, as tears streamed unbidden from his eyes, ~I want to tear the fear from their eyes. I wanted to laugh with our people, and to cry with them. To look at them and not have to fear about what they think. To live here and not have to fear. I thought it could be done. Perhaps I was right. But you must understand, ada, I can live in unwelcome… I have before. But I absolutely will not live in a place where I am not only unwelcome, but the one who has wronged me is so loved. I am not making you choose between him and me. And I am not even asking Legardo to leave… between the two of us, it is I who has a life beyond this to go to. And it is only logical that I do so, for all this madness to rest at last.~
Thranduil stepped toward Legolas, achingly saying, ~You think by now I'd be as wise as my years.~
He embraced his son, ~But I am finding I am still often at a loss. We work so hard to make the world a finer place for our children. And here we both are. The home I have crafted for you only lends you so much pain and so grave a sorrow. I desperately wish you could stay, yet I know you could not. And I should not ask it of you. What is a father to do, really… A King could physically block your way or perhaps invoke your duties and order you to stay. But a father… a father will let you find yourself first, and then patiently await your return.~
Legolas closed his eyes, cherished the barest moments of his father's embrace. He buried his face in his father's cloaks, and said, muffled and wry, making Thranduil smile despite the circumstances, ~You're not very patient at all, ada. But do not worry. I will never forget to write.~
* * *
Legolas let Gimli have more of the time he needed to prepare for the journey. The dwarf did not ask to which place Legolas referred when he said somewhere I am missed when I am gone, and loved when I am there. They both knew that there was only one place, really, and it was often where Estel was. Where Aragorn, the son of Arathorn, and the King of the Reunited Kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor was.
And so to Minas Tirith it was, and he really might as well take the time to redeem some other promise.
He walked towards the palace gardener's stockroom. He found there the aging and eccentric Esse, the same gardener from his youth. The old elf's face broke into a welcoming smile.
~Hello, your highness!~ he exclaimed, stepping forward and bowing with aplomb. He always seemed madly enthusiastic, and more than a little bit lonely.
~Esse,~ said Legolas, unsurprised by the welcome and still incredibly touched, given the otherwise general wariness of the rest of the kingdom, ~I need your help.~
The old gardener's eyes lit up with interest. ~Of course, my lord. Anything that you could possibly wish.~
~I have plans of furnishing Gondor with greens from our lands,~ replied Legolas, ~I thought perhaps, you have some suggestion. Or I could take some seeds and saplings and…~
Esse's uncharacteristically expressive elvish face wrinkled, ~Oh. Oh, no, my lord. 'Tis not that simple. 'Tis never that simple. You have to take rotations, and seasons and mineral requirements into consideration. One absolutely cannot just take a seed and place it somewhere. Why, it requires skills that takes a lifetime to learn!~
~Oh, well, I…~ hesitated Legolas, ~I apologize for seemingly implying your life work is simple and may be… uh… easily replicated by a fool with a bag of seeds. I just thought perhaps I could--~
~May I come with you, sire?~ Esse asked enthusiastically, ~Your father the King really has no great use for me here anymore. The gardens are well-tended and need only the most rudimentary of maintenance at this point, one which my legion of apprentices can easily handle. I seek a project of a much grander spectrum.~
Legolas' eyes lit up in delight, ~Why of course you may, Esse, if my father allows it.~
Esse clapped his hands, ~Oh this is fantastic my lord, why, I will be credited with coloring the halls and ways of two great kingdoms! I am very excited over this venture of yours.~
~I can tell,~ said Legolas wryly, ~I will be leaving within the hour. Be ready by then.~
~Oh I've been ready to leave for a long while!~ he exclaimed, the frustrated genius turning away from the prince (and normal custom!) and beginning to hurriedly prepare his things.
* * *
At the stables, Legolas was preparing Arod for the road ahead when he felt the familiar presence of his brother behind him. It put his nerves on end, but he did not face Legardo, knowing it was a game, almost a dare.
~So you are leaving,~ Legardo said flatly.
~Aren't you pleased?~ Legolas asked, matching his even tone, ~ Is it not proof that you have won? And a well-deserved victory, I might say. I was only willing to give my life for them, you were willing to sell your soul.~
Legardo fell silent for a moment, ~I merely wanted to say goodbye, Legolas.~
The quiet tone worked to chip at the ice of Legolas' heart, even for just a quick and vital moment. Legolas took a deep breath, turned to face his brother, and gave him a polite nod.
~Goodbye.~
Legardo pursed his lips and nodded back, turned away from his older brother and towards the door. Just before he exited, he paused and said, ~I do not think I won. I may have gained the approval of our people, but I'm finding I desire his approval more.~
There was no question as to who he was. He was Thranduil, he was their ada.
~It has always rested with you,~ Legardo said wistfully, before he turned and walked away.
Legolas watched the space he had left for a moment, and soon found it occupied by Serafin, who was also dressed and packed for a journey.
~Assignment?~ Legolas inquired.
~Somewhat,~ Serafin replied hesitantly, ~I heard you were leaving my lord.~
~Yes,~ said Legolas, his adroit hands preparing Arod again. Serafin stepped forward, moving to take the horse's straps from the prince.
~Let me do that for you,~ he offered.
~You needn't,~ Legolas said quickly, shifting the straps away from the other elf's reach, ~I've long known to fend for myself.~
~But you are the King's son, sire,~ said Serafin, shifting too and wresting the straps from Legolas' grip, ~I think you should know to accept the aid your followers are duty-bound to give to you.~
Legolas stepped back, and watched Serafin work. ~An aide, are you, Serafin? Then you should not be so defiant, should you?~ he said wryly.
He could hear the helpless smile upon Serafin's face, even if the soldier's back was to him as he worked. ~I will keep this in mind next time, sire.~
~So to where are you headed?~ Legolas asked.
~To wherever you are headed,~ Serafin said, after a moment of thought.
~Do not kid with me,~ Legolas told him.
~My duties demand it of me,~ said Serafin wistfully, ~The King did not expressly order my companionship with his son, but my father was always loyal to yours, and 'tis a tradition I find honor in upholding.~
~If you would rather be elsewhere,~ said Legolas stiffly, ~I would rather you go there instead. I do not wish to be an obligation.~
~You hardly make yourself a privilege, my lord,~ said Searfin, teasing.
Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but the arrival of a very vocal group of excited elf-geniuses entered the stables, and he looked at Esse and company with awe and dread.
~My lord!~ Esse exclaimed, ~We are all going with you! This is my brother Mical, the city planner. He too would want to help. This is my assistant. And these others here are his. We are all ready!~
~And what did my father say?~ Legolas asked in a tiny voice.
~The strangest thing, actually,~ replied Esse, his brows furrowing, ~He was laughing you see, and he said, he thought you wanted to leave Mirkwood, but you seem to be taking a great deal of it with you.~
TO BE CONTINUED…
SOME NOTES, RESPONSES AND THANKS:
To my reviewers: Thanks loads for taking the time to read and review. These are very, VERY much appreciated and encouraging :) Thank you Kit Cloudkicker, Konzen, Elessar*Lover, LOTRFaith, Sodalite, MSL, Stoneage Woman, Lady of the Twilight Woods, Tychen and Dragonfly.
To Elessar*Lover: of course there's gonna be trouble, haha!
To MSL: Sorry I didn't get to e-mail you when I got the first part up. I was pressed for time and thought I'd get to do it eventually, but I didn't bother anymore when I saw your review. Thanks so much for the encouragement :)
To Sodalite and Tychen: Not to worry, Aragorn will very, very much be in this fic! At the very next part, as a matter of fact :)
On the References to "Exile" and "Escape". You can probably guess that it is very hard to keep "Return" reader-friendly to those who've not read the previous two, so I hope you excuse the multitude of italicized references/memories, as well as the paragraph-think-backs. I know most of those who will be reading this have read the previous two, but I want to be as reader-friendly as possible. I hope that those who got curious about "Exile" and "Escape" from reading this would look them up :) Because aside from Legardo (who appeared in "Exile" as Legolas' murderous brother), The Lady Andrada will be making her return (also from "Exile," the old elf who concocted Legolas' death-sleep potion and is a drifter in the Mirkwood forest), as well as the elf Sari (from "Escape," Arwen's ex-betrothed). I will most likely be putting up a character guide at the top or bottom of the next few parts to ease the confusion. I originally did not plans on resurrecting most of these characters, but I wanted the trilogy to feel round, to tie up loose ends, and, while I think I came up with pretty feasible endings for each part, I wanted the trilogy to still maintain that unified feeling, and really end it at "Return."
So there. Thank you so much and c&c's always welcome :) 'til the next post!
