The King
NB. Eight months have passed since Legolas first came to Rivendell.
Legolas stood in front of the ornate mirror critically examining his reflection. He wore a dark moss green tunic over an undershirt of pale apple green. His leggings were of a rich forest green and were tucked into soft calf length boots, which were black. The leather belt around his waist was dark brown and bore intricate designs of raised leaves. His hair was pulled back at the sides and woven into a mithril band that was securely clasped at the back of his head. The rest of his golden hair fell onto his back neatly. He nervously plucked at the edges of his tunic.
"I look ridiculous!" he said.
Folding his arms, he turned away from the mirror with frightened eyes, toward his friends. Elladan and Aragorn sighed wearily.
"You look fine Legolas, just a bit thin." Aragorn cocked his head and examined his friend critically.
"Besides mellon nin, those are the only green clothing we have left. You have tried on everything else." Elladan indicated the pile of clothing in the middle of the floor with a gentle wave of his hand. Elrohir, who sat on the window ledge with one foot dangling, waved his silver brush in Legolas' direction.
"And if I have to comb you hair again, I shall cast myself from this window. It is perfect. There is no more to be done." Having said that, he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.
"Sidh El." Aragorn pleaded with Elrohir and pushed himself off the bed.
He grasped Legolas by the shoulders and gave him a little shake. "Legolas, your father loves you, he cares not it you wear rich clothing, or go about in rags. He is coming for you not your garments." Aragorn held his gaze trying to convince his friend of the truth of his words.
King Thranduil would arrive in two hours time. The King had sent at least four missives every day for the last two weeks. Lord Elrond had grown tired of having to stop his normal duties, every time a message arrived, needing an answer. He kept reassuring the nervous King that Legolas was indeed alive and healthy. Soon I will run out of messengers, he thought, as he sealed yet another reply and sent it off with a young elf who waited at the door to his study.
As the day of the King's arrival had drawn closer Legolas had become more and more agitated. He began to spend more time alone in his room. When he did seek out Aragorn he often did not speak but walked the vast lands of Imladris with head bowed. At meal times he ate but sparingly, mostly pushing his food around in aimless circles. He frowned more than smiled and sang not at all.
At that moment he stared at the floor, shaking his head denying Aragorn's words.
"My father is a great King. He is well respected by his people. I am no longer…" Legolas stopped unable to continue, curling his hands into fists.
"No longer what?' Aragorn questioned. He squeezed his friend's shoulders gently. Legolas raised his eyes, they were shimmering and bright. His stare was bleak.
"I am no longer worthy to be called prince." The whisper was harsh and filled with self loathing. He stepped back, shrugging off Aragorn's hands and spun away from his friends again.
"No Legolas," Aragorn began, reaching out to him. But as his fingers touched the elf's shoulder, Legolas flinched and spun back to face him. His face was distorted with fear, hate and doubt. He slapped Aragorn's hands away and snarled.
"Do not touch me."
Before any of the three could react, Legolas ran from the room. His soft shoes made no sound as he raced along the corridor down the steps and out the front door. He ran blindly, his heart pounding frantically in his head, full of sorrow. He ran like a frightened deer, letting his feet lead him. He ran as though by speed alone he could leave behind his dark memories. When he begun to weep he did not know, but his chest heaved with the effort. At last he stopped, and he fell to the ground as one slain. His tears wet the grasses under his cheek.
The trees stretched towards him, murmuring in sympathy with his sorrow. Their thoughts wove through the air and covered him like a soft blanket.
'Cry no more little one, be at peace.'
His tears slowed and then stilled, he was spent. Too long had he suffered, too long. He could not face the King. He did not want to see his father turn away from him in shame. He felt dirty and believed he would never be clean again.
"Ada!" his heartbroken cry echoed through the clearing, for it was there that his feet had unerringly lead him.
It was there that Aragorn and Elladan found him some thirty minutes later, for they had first searched the house, courtyard and gardens. He was asleep, if asleep indeed he was. His dirty face clearly showed the tracks of spent tears. He was lying huddled against the base of an old Rowan tree. Elladan knelt and placed one long arm across his shoulders, raised him and slipped another under his knees.
"I will carry him." He said rising to his feet in one fluid motion.
Aragorn silently fell into stride beside him and together they retraced their steps to the house.
"You know he blames himself." Elladan began, glancing at Estel as they walked together.
"I know. I have tried to speak with him so many times about it, but he refuses. All he says is that he should have chosen death over life."
"He is impossible. He could not have prevented what happened. They were all over whelmed."
"I know and he knows. But, my brother, we were not there. We do not actually suffer what he did. We do not know truly the evil that haunts him still."
"Then you think he should give up his life?"
"NO!" Aragorn's denial was emphatic and he stopped, angered by the question.
Elladan stopped as well. He looked down at the fair headed elf in his arms.
"Of us all," he said slowly, raising his golden brown eyes to look at his young human brother. "He loves you the most. He trusts you implicitly Estel. You must be the one to convince him of his worth."
"How can I Lada? When I see his pain I am helpless before it. It is a selfish need in me that wants him here, when he could find rest… elsewhere."
"Selfish or no." Elladan continued. "He must not die like this, for his unhappiness will be carried with him from this world to the next. He is a creature of sunlight and wind Estel, not shadow. There is much yet for him to do."
Elladan began walking again and slowly Aragorn joined him still deep in thought. He did not want Legolas to die, not ever. He liked to hear him laugh, hear him sing, to see him climb ever so swiftly, leaping gracefully from tree to tree. On the training filed he had amazed the Rivendell elves with his deadly skill with bow and knives. His humility about his skill and perception further astonished Aragorn. That he was a prince meant little. Legolas had burrowed his way into Aragorn's heart and could not be dislodged.
"I will do my best Elladan."
The elf smiled, giving Aragorn a silent look of thanks.
Lord Thranduil rode his horse easily. He rode in the company of seven war horses, ridden by seven grim faced warriors. There was no idle chatter among them as they rode, for they regarded their duty of guarding the King most seriously. Their sovereign did not often go forth from Mirkwood, but this was an occasion of utmost importance. Prince Legolas had been found. In his heart each warrior was glad; the prince was a favourite of his people. His loss had been hard to bear. For their Lord Thranduil, it had been unbearable.
The King rode with the fingers of one hand entangled in his horse's mane, the other palm down on his thigh. His mind was still in a whirl. How could his son live? Where had he been these long years? Though he had sent many enquiries, he noticed that Elrond had skillfully avoided any details about his son's state of health. Thus, he imagined the worst. It could be that Legolas had been maimed in some way, even crippled. His jaw tightened as his mind played out many scenarios, each worse than the previous. He shook his head slightly, causing his unbound yellow hair to slip forward over his shoulders. He did not care; he loved Legolas more than the waking world. Whatever his condition, they would face and surmount it together.
"My Lord!" the call came from the lead rider. Thranduil looked up startled out of his pensive mood. The elven warrior pointed to the right. Rivendell.
Legolas awoke to the feel of strong arms enfolding him. He smelt the faint scent of pipe weed. He was leaning against Aragorn's chest. The soft fabric of his shirt was cool against the elf's cheek. The deep rumbling beneath his ear was the sound of his friend's voice softly singing. He opened his eyes. He was in his room, propped against Aragorn, who was leaning against the wall for support. They were on a low divan facing the window. Legolas stirred causing Aragorn to loosen his hold slightly.
"I am well Aragorn." Legolas said trying to sit up.
"I think not my friend." Aragorn responded, nevertheless he let him go and Legolas got to his feet, crossed to a nearby chair and sat. He kept his eyes trained on the ground between his feet. He made a forlorn picture. His hair, so neatly combed by Elrohir was in disarray, a few dried leaves were tangled in his long hair. His tunic was askew and smudged with dirt at the shoulders and waist. His leggings were bunched a bit at his knees and his boots were scuffed with dust. He looked so disheveled that Aragorn could not help the tiny smile that came unbidden to his lips.
"Your father is here."
Legolas looked up startled; his blue eyes were wide with emotion.
"I cannot see him. He must not see me! I will not see him; you cannot make me do so." Legolas had risen to his feet, panic evident in his face as the words cam tumbling out of him in a torrent. But Aragorn, anticipating the response had already stood and was holding both of the elf's arms in his grasp. Legolas did not try to pull away, but pleaded with Aragorn with his eyes.
"Aragorn, I am tainted. I am not worthy to touch the hem of my father robes. I have defiled the name of my King. I am unclean…" Legolas' broken words stopped as he sagged to the ground without warning. Aragorn sank with him, pulling him close at the same time.
"No Legolas."
"I am despoiled, how can you stand to touch me."
Aragorn felt Legolas' tears soak through the sleeve of his shirt. "Because," he began, carefully tipping up the elf's head, "you are beautiful my friend."
Legolas jerked away from Aragorn's touch, shielding his face behind the curtain of his flaxen hair.
"Your beauty far surpasses the darkness that tried to envelop it, that tried to put out the light which burns within you. Your soul is strong and will not be conquered. Is that wrong? Would it have been better to die like a coward in the darkness? You chose not to flee but to fight and you have won. Let not your victory be marred by the stain of that twilight. Is not the finest sword forged in the hottest fire? Is a jewel not made stronger and more valuable by being cut and shaped by ruthless tools? Your light shines bright Legolas Greenleaf. Do not take its warmth from us… from me." Aragorn stopped abruptly, unable to say more, his sudden tears blinded him and he bowed his head in defeat.
This time it was Legolas who reached for his friend and held him close as the sun's light shone brightly on them. One elf, one human.
The Lord of Imladris stood in the open courtyard, flanked by his twin sons as the envoy from Mirkwood rode in through the gates. They came to a halt a respectful distance away from the three. The King dismounted followed swiftly by his warriors. He approached Lord Elrond and grasped his left shoulder in the traditional elven greeting between equals. Lord Elrond reciprocated saying, "Mae govannen Hir Thranduil. Baren bar lin."
"Hannon le Hir Elrond, no i Melain na le." responded the King.
"My sons will see to the comfort of your company. Please come inside."
Elrond led the way up the steps as Elrohir and Elladan lead the warriors and their mounts across the courtyard. Elrond's dark grey robes swept behind him as he walked across the hall and through the open oaken doors that led to his study. He ushered Thranduil to a large comfortable armchair and sat in a less well-padded one, directly opposite the King. Thranduil's posture was tense and for a moment both elf lords were silent. Then Thranduil tossed his head in an attempt to shift his flowing yellow hair off his shoulders.
The movement brought to Elrond's mind an image of a much younger elf, who, with dark blue eyes of sparkling mischief had challenged him to a foot race. A much younger Elrond had accepted the challenge and had lost, badly. He had had to watch that same head of untamable yellow hair fly in the wind in front of him, all the way to the end.
"Have you never learnt how to groom your hair Duil?" Elrond asked with a smile. The question brought an answering one to the other elf's lips and he visibly relaxed.
"Have you learnt how to run any faster Ro?" asked the Mirkwood elf with an impish grin. Elrond laughed and Thranduil joined him. Then the elf king placed his hand on the knee of his friend of bygone elfling days.
"Where is my son Ro, where is Legolas?"
"He is safe and rests now in the upper rooms, my youngest is with him. But there is much you must know and much I must tell." Elrond's face grew grave as he spoke. Thranduil nodded and Elrond proceeded to relate everything he knew or had guessed to him. Lord Thranduil's face grew cold and shuttered as he listened. The last words had hardly left Elrond's mouth when the elf king stood and said.
"Take me to my son."
Lord Elrond rose, nodding slightly at Thranduil and led the way to the upper floor. At the end of the vestibule he paused before the door to the left and knocked twice. He pushed it open and indicated that the King proceed him. Thranduil swept into the room and his breath caught in his throat at the sight that greeted him.
Legolas wore a simple unadorned white shift that reached his knees and black leggings tucked into soft boots. His hair was loose and fell in a golden cascade to his waist. His son's face was pinched and his blue eyes were too wide with unchecked emotion. His body always slender was now almost waif like in its thinness. He was pale, much paler than he should be. His hand shook as he raised it to push away wayward strands of hair from his face. All this Thranduil saw and still could not really believe that his son lived and was standing before him.
Legolas' heart froze in his chest as he looked upon the figure of his father. The King was clothed in a tunic of dark red and leggings of darkest brown. His black calf length boots were black and bore signs of his recent journey. His hands were clenched at his side and his face was a stone mask. Only his long yellow hair moved in the wind that blew in through the open window. Trembling, Legolas dropped to one knee and bowed his head, waiting for the words of rejection and banishment to pass his father's lips.
Instead, a dry sob escaped the lips of the King and he fell to his knees in front of his son and tenderly crushed him to his chest.
"Tithen pen." He breathed and the tears that he had held in check for four long years finally found release. "Pen neth nin. Little leaf."
Legolas clung to his father as a wave of warm love washed over him. He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his weary head on his father's strong shoulder. The King cupped the prince's head in his hand and spoke softly to him as he had done when he was an elfling.
Lord Elrond caught Aragorn's attention and both father and son quietly left the room.
Lord Elrond sat at the head of the table. On his right sat Elladan. To his left were Elrohir and Aragorn. It was time for the evening meal and the table was laden with fresh bread, ripe fruit, roasted meats and wine. However neither the elves nor the man had touched a single morsel of food. Three hours had passed and Lord Thranduil and Legolas had yet to emerge from the upper floors.
Aragorn held a cup of mulled wine in his hands. He stared down into its depths. He wondered what was happening up there. He wondered if the King would take his son back to Mirkwood immediately. Aragorn did not want him to leave, not yet. Did Legolas want to leave? Elrohir touched his arm bringing him out of his contemplation. He turned to him with solemn grey green eyes.
"Are you not hungry?" his brother enquired.
"In truth I am not."
"At least have some drink." Elrohir pressed a flute of wine into his hands taking away the cup that had grown cold. Aragorn took a sip to please his brother, but the taste eluded him. Lord Elrond was about to speak to Aragorn, when a flash of colour to his right caught his eye. King Thranduil and Legolas stood in the doorway. Both their eyes were red rimmed.
"Are we too late for the meal?" Thranduil enquired quietly.
"Not at all," responded lord Elrond standing and indicating that they should sit. Elladan moved two chairs down allowing the King to sit next to Lord Elrond and Legolas opposite Aragorn. Aragorn raised both eyebrows in silent enquiry to Legolas, who nodded and smiled. The meal proceeded without formality. There was light bantering among the four younger males. Thranduil and Elrond spoke quietly about past events and present happenings in Middle Earth. At length the meal was over; the twins bade all good night and retired to their rooms. Lord Elrond went with King Thranduil and Legolas to get his guest settled in one of the spare rooms.
Finding himself alone, Aragorn sought out the cool of the garden that ran along the left side of the main house. He sat on an elaborately carved stone bench, which was conveniently placed under a willow tree. He carefully knocked out his pipe, refilled and lit it, then began puffing contentedly. He closed his eyes and relaxed listening to the night birds around him. It was no wonder then that he did not hear the elf's approach, until he cleared his throat. Aragorn jumped, coughing as he choked on a draught of smoke. He blinked twice and as the smoke cleared, realized that King Thranduil was standing in front of him. "Lord Thranduil!" Aragorn spluttered. He automatically started to bow, but realized he was still seated. He then got to his feet hastily. He had no wish to appear gauche before the King. Thranduil barely kept a smile off his face as the young man scrambled to his feet. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Then Thranduil grasped Aragorn's left shoulder in greeting, surprising the young human further. Before he could react the King spoke.
"Hannon le Estel, son of Arathorn and Elrond. Thank you for my son." Lord Thranduil bowed formally to the young man and walked back to the house. He left an astonished but relieved Aragorn behind.
Notes
Hannon le, thank you
Pen neth nin. My young one
Tithen pen.Little one
Hannon le Hir Elrond, no i Melain na le. Thank you Lord Elrond, may the Valar be with you.
Mae govannen Hir Thranduil. Baren bar lin. Well met/ Welcome Lord Thranduil, my home is your home.
Ada, daddy
Sidh, peace, be quiet
mellon nin, my friend
To
Rath, Thank you for your kind words.
Kenobisaqt, I love Legolas too!
Ria erif, I hope this one pleases you.
Lurker, thanks for the suggestion and info.