Rating drops back to G for this chapter. I'm such a good child. Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed, I'm so glad people like this. This chapter introduces an original character who goes on to become a fairly major player and he is the only part of this that I own, other than the plot.
Chapter 4
The Ride back to Mirkwood was swift and furious. Legolas had not had time to ask anything of his father before King Thranduil took hold of his son's shoulders and steered him towards a horse. For some reason, he felt the need to help Legolas mount and then ride behind him. Legolas tried to protest but found his words ignored. Casting his gaze around for Aragorn, Legolas saw the man being lead towards a steed by two warriors. Confusion racking the prince's brain, he tried to twist around on the horse, looking back over his father's shoulder.
Thranduil moved slightly, barring his son's view of his kidnapper. The King was filled with a rage that he could not remember feeling before, even in his long life. He heard snatches of his son's voice questioning him before the words were torn away by the wind and lost. Ahead of them, a dark green strip grew closer and larger as they approached Mirkwood.
Thranduil had always thought Elrond a fool for accepting the heir of Isildur as a fostered son. In his heart, the King of Mirkwood had believed since the war of the ring that no good could come from Isildur's tainted bloodline. He had been proved right, but there was no joy in it for him, only a burning sense of injustice that he determined to rectify as soon as he was able.
For all his rage, Thranduil was not an unfair elf. It was not in his nature to be so. During the ride to Mirkwood, which was swift and silent, he planned what course he would take. As he dismounted his horse and reached out to his son, Legolas looked at him strangely and sprang from the saddle unaided. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Legolas opened his mouth to speak.
"Ada, what is..."
Thranduil cut through his son's words, calling forward two of the warriors who had ridden out with him.
"Take the man to my quarters. I will meet you there shortly." Thranduil and Aragorn's eyes met for a brief moment, shadowed confusion in the man's gaze and undisguised contempt in the elf's. The silence between them seemed to expand and fill the clearing. Then Thranduil turned sharply on his heel and left, shepherding Legolas before him.
All the way to his chambers, the prince protested and questioned, demanding to know what was being done with Aragorn and why. Thranduil refused to answer his questions and both of them grew angry and stubborn. Finally, Thranduil and Legolas were inside the prince's chambers. Legolas sank down on to the bed and stared at his father, eyes flashing.
"Father, you can not treat me this way," he protested. "I would know what you have done with Estel and why."
"He will stand trial for his crimes, my son. You need not fear." Thranduil left the room and Legolas stared at the door, his mind whirling. Stand trial for what crimes? Surely this was some jest on the part of his father. Legolas stood and crossed to the door. As soon as he reached it, however, it swung open and Thranduil walked back in, followed by two elves that Legolas recognised as being skilled in healing.
Thranduil guided Legolas back to the bed and sat beside him, cradling his son's hands within his own.
"Legolas, you know that I love you," Thranduil said gently. Legolas was taken aback.
"Of course I know that, Ada. And I love you, too," he replied earnestly. "But you must tell me what is happening and why. I must know why."
Thranduil raised Legolas' hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.
"That man," he said the word with contempt, "tried to steal you away from your home, Legolas. He must pay for his crime. Treason is a terrible thing, in any race of Middle-Earth, even one descended from such ignoble lineage."
"Ada!" Legolas laughed. "He did not steal me away! I followed him. I followed him to apologise for the way he had been treated here."
A spasm of pain passed over Thranduil's face as he heard the poison words of Isildur's heir pouring forth from his own son's lips.
"Oh, my son," Thranduil sighed, his anger growing, although he did his best to keep it from Legolas. "You can never know the pain it causes me to hear you speak thus. But I do not resent it. I do not resent you. This is some wicked spell that the son of Arathorn was able to cast, the knowledge passed through his kin from a time when his blood still ran in the veins of the pure."
Thranduil stood and stooped to place a kiss on Legolas' forehead. The prince was staring ahead blankly, unable to take in his father's words. Thranduil spoke quietly with the elven healers and was gone from the room by the time Legolas found his voice and began to protest loudly.
The healers did their best to calm the Prince but he resisted all their attempts to speak with him. Finally, with sorrow in his ageless, peerless eyes, one of the healers took hold of Legolas' chin gently and looked deep into his eyes. Legolas could not long withstand the gaze and he fell silent, unwilling to battle mentally or physically against such a powerful yet benign mind.
"I will answer your questions," Legolas told the healers, "and I will allow your examinations but after that, you must take me to my father."
The healers agreed to his conditions and sat one either side of him. The one who had looked into Legolas' eyes ran his fingers over the Prince's brow, cool fingers and gentle but Legolas resented them. He should be with his father explaining what had happened and he should be believed. It should not be assumed that because an Elf of the Woodland Realm was seen with a man that he was there against his will. Frustration sang in Legolas' veins. These rules, so foolish, would leave Aragorn on trial for what he had not done. Legolas could not rid himself of the feeling of guilt and grief. Had he not been so stubborn, had he not followed Aragorn, had he been gentler with words on first introducing Aragorn to his father, maybe this would not have been the case.
The second healer turned his head towards Legolas, his eyes as green as the leaves of the forest. Green as spring and utterly blank. Legolas realised with a start that this Elf was blind. Curiosity welled up in him, almost drowning out the anger he felt on Aragorn's behalf.
"My name is Mercia," the blind Elf said. "You should not begrudge your father for his love of you. Nor should you take the blame of Estel's fate upon yourself. Of all of us, Legolas, you are the most innocent in this affair."
"But Estel did not..." Legolas began frantically.
"That is to be decided," Mercia said soothingly, his cool fingers stroking over Legolas' palm. No hesitation gave away his lack of sight and Legolas found himself calming as Mercia spoke. "We have no intention of lying, Legolas. We wish only to discover the truth."
"I am telling you the truth!" Legolas insisted. "I have told nothing but the truth since we returned. This is foolhardy! Aragorn placed no spell upon me and made no attempt to do so. Do you not think that I would know if he had?"
"Legolas, there is a very good chance that you would not know," Mercia said gently. "The blood line of Isildur is long and powerful, harkening back to the time when Numenor was great. There is no way of knowing what power he may hold. Even over a prince such as yourself."
Legolas opened his mouth to protest again but fell silent. He looked to Mercia whose blank eyes met Legolas' with unnerving accuracy.
"How will you tell if he has cast some spell upon me? How will you be able to tell it is there if its webs are wound so tightly as to fool even the one it is cast upon?"
"I may not be able see your face, my prince," Mercia said with a sunny laugh, "but I can see your heart, if you will let me. I will know if your will is being bent to that of another."
In his heart, Legolas did not believe that Aragorn had cast any spell upon him. Certainly, he was utterly intrigued by the man and found much about him thrilling and new but that was little more than he felt upon seeing a new and beautiful tree with flowers of a hitherto unseen colour. But Mercia's words had sent a prickle of doubt through Legolas and now he wondered. He wondered whether the man, so silent and brave could have perhaps laid some enchantment upon him without his knowledge.
Mercia seemed honourable, grave and sad beyond Legolas' comprehension. Legolas had never met the Lady of the Golden Wood but if he had, he would have recognised in Mercia some of the qualities that made Galadriel so wise and so fair. It was hard to entertain the idea of Mercia lying, even if it was in order to agree with his king.
"When did you first feel that you should follow Aragorn?" Mercia asked, interrupting Legolas' whirlwind of thoughts.
"From the moment that I knew what my father's intentions were," Legolas replied. "I was angry that he could treat this way a man so honourable and so brave. Aragorn could easily have left me to be ambushed by the Orcs but he did not. He risked himself to help me fight and in return he was thrown from the Kingdom like a common criminal."
"But you knew your father's laws, did you not?"
"I did and I do," Legolas said, his chin high and proud. "I respect and love my father and I believe his laws are made in the interests of his people. But sometimes, even the wisest can falter and make errors."
Mercia sighed. The Prince was a puzzle. It would take a lot of time and gentle questioning to find the truth from him. Mercia's first reaction upon talking to the prince was that he was lucid and determined, utterly without the influence of man upon him. There was something in his voice when he spoke of Aragorn that should not have been there, though. Mercia could not determine immediately what it was. He did not believe that it was a spell, at least not one that he had any knowledge of.
Whatever it was was new and tender, blossoming slowly inside Legolas. Mercia doubted whether the Prince knew that it was there.
Chapter 4
The Ride back to Mirkwood was swift and furious. Legolas had not had time to ask anything of his father before King Thranduil took hold of his son's shoulders and steered him towards a horse. For some reason, he felt the need to help Legolas mount and then ride behind him. Legolas tried to protest but found his words ignored. Casting his gaze around for Aragorn, Legolas saw the man being lead towards a steed by two warriors. Confusion racking the prince's brain, he tried to twist around on the horse, looking back over his father's shoulder.
Thranduil moved slightly, barring his son's view of his kidnapper. The King was filled with a rage that he could not remember feeling before, even in his long life. He heard snatches of his son's voice questioning him before the words were torn away by the wind and lost. Ahead of them, a dark green strip grew closer and larger as they approached Mirkwood.
Thranduil had always thought Elrond a fool for accepting the heir of Isildur as a fostered son. In his heart, the King of Mirkwood had believed since the war of the ring that no good could come from Isildur's tainted bloodline. He had been proved right, but there was no joy in it for him, only a burning sense of injustice that he determined to rectify as soon as he was able.
For all his rage, Thranduil was not an unfair elf. It was not in his nature to be so. During the ride to Mirkwood, which was swift and silent, he planned what course he would take. As he dismounted his horse and reached out to his son, Legolas looked at him strangely and sprang from the saddle unaided. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Legolas opened his mouth to speak.
"Ada, what is..."
Thranduil cut through his son's words, calling forward two of the warriors who had ridden out with him.
"Take the man to my quarters. I will meet you there shortly." Thranduil and Aragorn's eyes met for a brief moment, shadowed confusion in the man's gaze and undisguised contempt in the elf's. The silence between them seemed to expand and fill the clearing. Then Thranduil turned sharply on his heel and left, shepherding Legolas before him.
All the way to his chambers, the prince protested and questioned, demanding to know what was being done with Aragorn and why. Thranduil refused to answer his questions and both of them grew angry and stubborn. Finally, Thranduil and Legolas were inside the prince's chambers. Legolas sank down on to the bed and stared at his father, eyes flashing.
"Father, you can not treat me this way," he protested. "I would know what you have done with Estel and why."
"He will stand trial for his crimes, my son. You need not fear." Thranduil left the room and Legolas stared at the door, his mind whirling. Stand trial for what crimes? Surely this was some jest on the part of his father. Legolas stood and crossed to the door. As soon as he reached it, however, it swung open and Thranduil walked back in, followed by two elves that Legolas recognised as being skilled in healing.
Thranduil guided Legolas back to the bed and sat beside him, cradling his son's hands within his own.
"Legolas, you know that I love you," Thranduil said gently. Legolas was taken aback.
"Of course I know that, Ada. And I love you, too," he replied earnestly. "But you must tell me what is happening and why. I must know why."
Thranduil raised Legolas' hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.
"That man," he said the word with contempt, "tried to steal you away from your home, Legolas. He must pay for his crime. Treason is a terrible thing, in any race of Middle-Earth, even one descended from such ignoble lineage."
"Ada!" Legolas laughed. "He did not steal me away! I followed him. I followed him to apologise for the way he had been treated here."
A spasm of pain passed over Thranduil's face as he heard the poison words of Isildur's heir pouring forth from his own son's lips.
"Oh, my son," Thranduil sighed, his anger growing, although he did his best to keep it from Legolas. "You can never know the pain it causes me to hear you speak thus. But I do not resent it. I do not resent you. This is some wicked spell that the son of Arathorn was able to cast, the knowledge passed through his kin from a time when his blood still ran in the veins of the pure."
Thranduil stood and stooped to place a kiss on Legolas' forehead. The prince was staring ahead blankly, unable to take in his father's words. Thranduil spoke quietly with the elven healers and was gone from the room by the time Legolas found his voice and began to protest loudly.
The healers did their best to calm the Prince but he resisted all their attempts to speak with him. Finally, with sorrow in his ageless, peerless eyes, one of the healers took hold of Legolas' chin gently and looked deep into his eyes. Legolas could not long withstand the gaze and he fell silent, unwilling to battle mentally or physically against such a powerful yet benign mind.
"I will answer your questions," Legolas told the healers, "and I will allow your examinations but after that, you must take me to my father."
The healers agreed to his conditions and sat one either side of him. The one who had looked into Legolas' eyes ran his fingers over the Prince's brow, cool fingers and gentle but Legolas resented them. He should be with his father explaining what had happened and he should be believed. It should not be assumed that because an Elf of the Woodland Realm was seen with a man that he was there against his will. Frustration sang in Legolas' veins. These rules, so foolish, would leave Aragorn on trial for what he had not done. Legolas could not rid himself of the feeling of guilt and grief. Had he not been so stubborn, had he not followed Aragorn, had he been gentler with words on first introducing Aragorn to his father, maybe this would not have been the case.
The second healer turned his head towards Legolas, his eyes as green as the leaves of the forest. Green as spring and utterly blank. Legolas realised with a start that this Elf was blind. Curiosity welled up in him, almost drowning out the anger he felt on Aragorn's behalf.
"My name is Mercia," the blind Elf said. "You should not begrudge your father for his love of you. Nor should you take the blame of Estel's fate upon yourself. Of all of us, Legolas, you are the most innocent in this affair."
"But Estel did not..." Legolas began frantically.
"That is to be decided," Mercia said soothingly, his cool fingers stroking over Legolas' palm. No hesitation gave away his lack of sight and Legolas found himself calming as Mercia spoke. "We have no intention of lying, Legolas. We wish only to discover the truth."
"I am telling you the truth!" Legolas insisted. "I have told nothing but the truth since we returned. This is foolhardy! Aragorn placed no spell upon me and made no attempt to do so. Do you not think that I would know if he had?"
"Legolas, there is a very good chance that you would not know," Mercia said gently. "The blood line of Isildur is long and powerful, harkening back to the time when Numenor was great. There is no way of knowing what power he may hold. Even over a prince such as yourself."
Legolas opened his mouth to protest again but fell silent. He looked to Mercia whose blank eyes met Legolas' with unnerving accuracy.
"How will you tell if he has cast some spell upon me? How will you be able to tell it is there if its webs are wound so tightly as to fool even the one it is cast upon?"
"I may not be able see your face, my prince," Mercia said with a sunny laugh, "but I can see your heart, if you will let me. I will know if your will is being bent to that of another."
In his heart, Legolas did not believe that Aragorn had cast any spell upon him. Certainly, he was utterly intrigued by the man and found much about him thrilling and new but that was little more than he felt upon seeing a new and beautiful tree with flowers of a hitherto unseen colour. But Mercia's words had sent a prickle of doubt through Legolas and now he wondered. He wondered whether the man, so silent and brave could have perhaps laid some enchantment upon him without his knowledge.
Mercia seemed honourable, grave and sad beyond Legolas' comprehension. Legolas had never met the Lady of the Golden Wood but if he had, he would have recognised in Mercia some of the qualities that made Galadriel so wise and so fair. It was hard to entertain the idea of Mercia lying, even if it was in order to agree with his king.
"When did you first feel that you should follow Aragorn?" Mercia asked, interrupting Legolas' whirlwind of thoughts.
"From the moment that I knew what my father's intentions were," Legolas replied. "I was angry that he could treat this way a man so honourable and so brave. Aragorn could easily have left me to be ambushed by the Orcs but he did not. He risked himself to help me fight and in return he was thrown from the Kingdom like a common criminal."
"But you knew your father's laws, did you not?"
"I did and I do," Legolas said, his chin high and proud. "I respect and love my father and I believe his laws are made in the interests of his people. But sometimes, even the wisest can falter and make errors."
Mercia sighed. The Prince was a puzzle. It would take a lot of time and gentle questioning to find the truth from him. Mercia's first reaction upon talking to the prince was that he was lucid and determined, utterly without the influence of man upon him. There was something in his voice when he spoke of Aragorn that should not have been there, though. Mercia could not determine immediately what it was. He did not believe that it was a spell, at least not one that he had any knowledge of.
Whatever it was was new and tender, blossoming slowly inside Legolas. Mercia doubted whether the Prince knew that it was there.