CHAPTER SEVEN
You Never Know…
It was bleak, very bleak even as birds sang freely and some minute rays of glistening sunlight fell to the forest floor. Thranduil noted with depression how Legolas would have very much enjoyed a day like today, with its warmth and visiting sunlight. Legolas always liked the sunlight more than the strange darkness of Mirkwood's forest. He supposed that was one of the reasons that he always was coming and going and if he was there, he had to be with friends or in trees where the sun's light could leak in and penetrate the vast dimness. Legolas missed what Mirkwood had been before she fell.
Thranduil watched as a leaf turned golden and reminded him of seeing Legolas' hair caught up in a ray of sunshine. Having not heard from Legolas in two years had worn on the Elvenking's bearing. Worn on it much indeed, more than he liked to readily admit to anyone, especially himself.
He no longer looked as proud and his eyes were almost always narrowed and more often closed now days. He didn't throw many feasts anymore and he let Rothinzil and Celebalda deal with the affairs of his people. It was nearly safe to say he was no longer governing the Elves and that Rothinzil was acting as the royal personage. But no one would go so far as to say that, especially while Thranduil was in ear shot. It was not that they feared he would object, they feared he would agree and his spirit would be damaged some more. They didn't want to lose their king, after all, with Dol Guldur growing into ever more of a menace to them and their way of life.
Thranduil stopped walking on his well-worn forest trail and stood for a moment, lost in memory. He sighed quietly and smiled knowing that whatever happened his son would be well. Legolas always managed to pull himself out of trouble. Of course he was convinced the trouble was caused by the ranger that his son often accompanied to the dangerous places the man was bound to go. He had taken counsel with Elrond once or twice but they both had come to the same aggravating conclusion: there was no way to stop the friends from being together.
Thranduil had tried everything, even commanding Legolas to stay, which Legolas would, but not for long. He knew that in a way Legolas was becoming old enough that he could take care of himself, but he still considered Legolas a child in his heart, though he was nearly an age old. However, he was king here and that meant that Legolas would have to obey him whether he was his father or not and that was where the problem came in. Legolas would not simply comply with what he felt to be very rash orders that were more or less meaningless and had no sway over his train of thought other than driving him away.
Shaking his head, he decided not to think about Legolas' disobedience. It was depressing and it hurt deeply, more deeply than he would readily admit. It was hard to think that the only rebel he had in his kingdom was in fact a member of his house hold, his own son, his own flesh and blood!
He didn't like to think that perhaps the reason Legolas had become so hard headed and strong in foolish ideas was his fault. But he couldn't help but turn the idea over in his head every now and then. It was impossible to completely push aside, he realized with a stab of disappointment and slight aggravation.
Thranduil began to explore the notion that he had driven Legolas from home and actually began to wonder what his son was doing at this very moment. Perhaps he wasn't that far away. But having not heard from the blonde prince in two years was a little disturbing and nearly alarming. He must not lie to himself; it was alarming and actually frightening. Legolas usually came back after a few weeks or even maybe two months. He would never deny him word like this unless he was really gone. Unless he had been killed.
Thranduil just could not bear the thought that his new regulations on Legolas' life had driven his own son into self-appointed exile. He was not going to even regard that thought, he promised himself. But it was a fruitless promise. Being Legolas' father, his son was all he thought about and right now his son was all that haunted his dreams and thoughts.
When Legolas came back, he thought wryly, he would hug him and tell him how much he loved him first and then after that he would lock him in his room until the next millennia. Frowning, he wondered what escape his son would manage to conjure up this time. He usually came up with the most devious, reckless, spurious, exasperating and clever escapes ad pulled them off before he could be found out and stopped.
Perhaps the dungeons would be a better place to keep his son. He could make it into a comfortable room and still keep Legolas chained to the wall. Thranduil smiled at the thought of Legolas giving him his -you-have-warranted-death-by-this glare. Legolas hadn't used that look in a long time, at least not directed at him. The last person he ever saw Legolas cast that glare at was that young ranger and that was after the man had cut a piece of Legolas' hair as the prince slept to let a bird weave it into her nest. He remembered his son had been livid while the rest of the palace, including him, went up into roaring laughter.
It was also very odd that ever since the humiliation of their prince, Aragorn had been more accepted by the Wood-Elves. Normally the price for the humiliation of a Firstborn was high to pay, but this time everyone felt that it was called for.
The brief memory of the joy that had been faded and Thranduil felt sorrow fall over his heart once more as he realized he may never see Legolas laugh, lose his temper or even come back in need of stitches again. And realizing that he missed his son so much he would welcome him with lacerations in dire need of stitches, the blonde Elvenking suddenly understood just how much he wished he had back. It was true: you never know what you've got until it's gone.
O0O0O0O0O
Helluin walked the cave like corridors of the Palace of the Wood Elves. Her steps were soft and nearly Elf-like. Her long red hair was loose and fell about her graceful shoulders in lengthy auburn tresses that swished when she walked. Her blue eyes were glittering with a youthful appearance though she was close to forty. Even though she was mortal her life among the Eldar had kept her looking slightly younger than she was. It was a phenomenon that really wasn't to be expected, but the fact that it had happened wasn't a bad thing at all, so she really couldn't complain all that easily.
Straightening out a wrinkle in her dress's skirt, she stopped and stared mournfully out of a deep-set window that she honestly had no idea why it was called a 'window' considering how small and dark it was by the time you reached the glass part of it so far back was it set. She loved being with the Elves and her dear Rothinzil but she missed her own people greatly-more than she had originally thought were ever vaguely possible. She felt like time didn't move here and that she was passing everything by. Everything was always the same and she needed a change. Her life was short and she felt she needed to be moving on.
A pair of hands on her shoulders made her spin around to meet the calm and amused eyes of Roth as he smiled at her with the same sweet and sloppy grin he had possessed for practically forever. "You always have to sneak up on me, don't you?" she asked curtly as he pulled her close into a warm hug.
He laughed softly and chided in a tease, "no. You just need to be more alert when you live with Wood-Elves, especially when one of them is Legolas."
She reached up and touched his pointed ear, laughing when he jerked back. He was still ticklish behind his ears, just as she had found out years ago. Pulling away she asked quietly referring to their twin children, "where are Telperion and Ilwë?"
Rothinzil snorted softly at the mention of his daughter and son and muttered, "Telperion is with the other maidens working on her embroidery and Ilwë is out working on his archery." He smiled brightly and said, "you know exactly how he, he is just like Uncle Legolas, he will not show up until dinner. I think he spent too much of his toddler years trailing that spoiled prince around."
He thought of his children happily. Ilwë looked like a mirror image of himself only he was very graceful like his mother and loved to be out in the woods, practicing archery, which was his favorite weapon.
Telperion was his lovely daughter with his hair and her mother's crystalline eyes whose idea of a good time was teasing her brother (using tactics taught to her by Elladan and Elrohir when they visited) to no end and weaving enchanting tapestries of old tales that she loved to hear again and again. And she did have a talent for that sort of work. Her fingers were long and her hands were strong but delicate coupled her hand eye coordination that was unsurpassable. She had never tried archery but he guessed that she wouldn't be half-bad at it.
Both had pointy ears and looked Elven but had not decided yet to be counted among the Eldar or Edain.
Helluin looked out the window and Rothinzil came up behind her. Both stared out of it thoughtfully. "Rothinzil, have you ever thought of going back?" she asked calmly.
Rothinzil frowned and inquired in astonishment, "do you want to? It is beautiful here and safe from disease and most hardships. My family is here," he added. "I could never leave Legolas." But he knew that Legolas was gone, he hadn't left Legolas, Legolas had left him. But certainly his best friend and near brother had not left him on purpose? Legolas would never leave him or his father for ever would he?
She turned around slowly and looked at him, "but I feel trapped. I see everything staying the same while I change." She watched a torn look came into her husband's hazel eyes.
Rothinzil looked the polished stone floor they stood on and said, "I can't leave, not even for you. I want our children to grow up here, I want to die here." The Elf's eyes narrowed and he added, "you really can't ever realize what you have until it is gone."
Helluin knew that he referred to his immortality that he had given up to die with her. There wasn't a day that went by where she didn't regret forcing him to make such a hard decision and in the end allowing him to choose death over life. His face was still looking very young, like he was in his early twenties. Even though he was mortal now, he still didn't appear to age and was as childish and Elf-like as ever.
"I am sorry, Roth, so sorry," she murmured as he looked out the window serenely.
"For what?" he asked sharply, feeling more than a bit disgruntled at her words. "You did nothing wrong. Now," he changed the subject. "I have to go abroad tonight with Celebalda and Caranfëa along the borders near Dol Guldur."
"Are you bringing Ilwë along like you promised?" she asked tersely, staring him in the eye with a -don't you-dare-back-out look that made him feel rather uncomfortable. Actually now that he thought about it, he felt more threatened than anything else, which was foolish.
He shook his head in answer and said, "It is too dangerous. I know what it is like to get captured by orcs." Swallowing hard at old memories he said, "I would not place our son in that sort of danger." The Elf's face looked unmistakably troubled and actually could be called miserable. "Ilwë is an Elf, do you know what they would do to him? And he is so young."
Roth's eyes plead for understanding. He could not bear to let his son be captured by one of the most horrible things to walk the face of the earth. Orcs along Dol Guldur's borders did not kill unless they had to; they captured and tormented for information. An Elf had already been lost to them this week, which meant that they were active and certainly getting bolder. It was no place for an Elfling hardly trained.
"I know you wouldn't let anything happen to him," Helluin encouraged confidently. She leaned against Rothinzil who pulled away.
"He is only twenty years old! For an Elf that is young, very young. I am young for an Elf!" he confirmed as he back-stepped towards the door out of the corridor, nearly tripping in the process. Time had made no improvements, however so miniscule, on his balancing skills. The Elf inclined his head slightly, his dark hair sliding over his shoulder and covering a pointy ear. "Do you not understand? I will make sure he is not on those borders until he is one hundred at least. Preferably four hundred to five hundred."
"Rothinzil, he doesn't even know if he is mortal or immortal yet! How can you say that? You aren't going to go scout tonight, just sit in a tree and watch for patrols of orcs that come too close. Why can't you simply take him with you?" she argued with her temper beginning to rise and her eyes turning into narrow slits of flame.
She was finding it impossible to believe that she didn't understand. This was her husband, this was her son they were talking about and if she didn't know them both by now she had to question her intelligence. Roth was being far more difficult than need be and she was ready to truly lose her temper, which wasn't something she particularly wanted to do.
A fairly accurate description of her was the look of a dragon before it spat fire, mused Rothinzil. He felt his anxiety and anger spiking and told himself that he had to stop coming up with these depressing comparisons or he would turnout just like Legolas or Celebalda. Not that he didn't admire his superiors but there was the slight inclination to be a bit wary of their…bizarre habits.
"Dearest…" he began but he stopped and sighed in despair. He was losing the argument. But she just simply did not understand the precarious situation Ilwë would be placed in. He finally snapped, "I have already lost Legolas! I have already lost another dear friend of mine that you only had the privilege to meet once! I can not; I will not lose my son!"
"You do not know Legolas won't be coming back!" she seethed, becoming angrier by the minute.
"You do not know him and Estel the way I do! They could be in the Nath of Lothlorien (the most peaceful place in Middle-Earth) and still manage to find someone who hates them and is out for blood, be killed and then brought back to life by Galadriel herself only to be captured and tortured within an inch of their lives by some insane something that is out for their blood. All that in the time frame of half an hour or less!" Rothinzil shook his head. "We haven't heard from Legolas in two years, if anything he would have written a letter to me."
"Unless he is someplace where he can't write letters," Helluin reasoned with the irate Elf before her.
She had never seen Rothinzil angry before save once but since Legolas had run away without even saying farewell to him he had been depressed and his laugh was seldom heard in the forest. She knew as well he was feeling the weight of the world, as he never had before, though she could not possibly hope to understand it. It was burden they could not share.
"My point exactly."
Rothinzil sighed and rubbed his temples unconsciously with his fingers as he felt a tension headache pressing its painful way into his awareness. He felt like he had lost everything while he had gained the world. For the first time he thought that he was beginning to understand what a bird felt with a broken wing. It was a painful feeling even though it certainly wasn't physical.
He wondered for a moment what he would look like with wings and one being broken at that. But quickly cast the thought aside as he didn't really think he had the time to think of such things at the moment.
The Elf missed the company of his prince that was like an older brother to him and without him he felt alone even though he had everything he had ever wanted: a family and a place to belong.
Helluin relaxed and patted her husband's back comfortingly. "I will get some tea made for you and you can rest." She pulled his long and dark hair away from his paled face. He looked at her with his hazel eyes looking once like a fawn, a façade that she loved when he let it show through. She knew he was still strong as steel and wiser than many she had met.
"No, I will be fine. I simply need to clear my head," said the dark-haired Wood-Elf as he forced a shaky smile to pull at his lips' corners.
Helliun looked grimly at her Elven husband before she argued, "you need tea. Stop by the healing ward later and get some."
"Helluin-" Roth started before he was cut off by one of Helluin's long slender fingers pressing against his lips.
"Shhhhh…" she chided in a soft voice as she pulled him close and looked into his eyes with a dreamy gaze. His face turned back to a warm radiance and he pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers in a quick kiss.
She took him by the hand and said in a soft commanding voice, "come with me." Roth didn't argue with her. After all, besides being his wife, she was healer and was very capable of making his life miserable if she so chose.
O0O0O0O0O
Legolas opened his eyes and bit back a quick yelp of pain as consciousness returned. He looked blearily around the small dingy dungeon that was he and Estel's luck of having been placed in and noticed that everything lay in shadows or was indistinct. The prince felt rather disoriented but he had enough of his wits left unmuddled to know that this reprieve they were being given was only temporary. Uncomforting, that's what that bit of knowledge is, he told himself.
He looked beneath his feet and saw Aragorn hunched over his knees in the shallow water. The Elf whispered hoarsely, "Thorongil…" Legolas felt slightly annoyed at the weakness of his own voice. He was prince it was supposed to be commanding, calm…dignified if not without some sort of devious ring to it. Instead it sounded broken.
Aragorn became aware of Legolas' voice and he lifted his head slowly so as not to set off the throbbing headache had only just now managed to rid himself of. He smiled thinly, "I wondered if they had gone too far with you my friend."
The ranger inclined his head minutely and glanced up at the Elf who gave a thin smile back, trying to ignore the waves of pure anguish through his arm and the thunder he realized was rumbling overhead. "They don't want us dead, Estel. For what comfort that is," he muttered.
Aragorn noticed how Legolas strained against the bond he swung from and he winced openly. "Stand on my back, mellon nin." He doubted that Legolas would actually do such a thing, but it was worth a try anyway. Well…maybe…
Legolas glanced down with a small frown of wrath and snapped contemptuously, "and cause you more pain? I think not." To Legolas' way of thinking at the moment it was completely and unchangeably out of the question. He honestly could not believe that Aragorn had dared to ask such a dumb question. His mind was obviously fogged and badly so. Unless, no wait, this sort of selfless stupidity was a regular occurrence in this type situation. Typical, Legolas told himself mentally.
"You stubborn Wood-Elf!" growled Aragorn sternly. "Just do it or I will force you to!" he threatened darkly. He got on his hands and knees and began to crawl into position beneath Legolas' booted feet.
"Strider!" said Legolas, forgetting to use Aragorn's current alias. "You are impossible. But I will not stand on your damaged back and cause you further injury." He narrowed his eyes and stared curiously at the ranger's oddly placed shoulder. "You dislocated your shoulder!" he accused in a hiss.
"No, Sarchel did," corrected Aragorn grumpily. He was not in the disposition to argue with Legolas whom he knew was about as stubborn as a literally stupid mule. He shrugged and said, "Fine. If you do not want to stand on my back and ease your pain that is causing your body to twitch and shudder, then don't."
Legolas chuckled wryly and said in a sneer that Aragorn would have thought looked comical had he not known Legolas to be in complete agony, "either way, it is dislocated and you are too obstinate to do anything about it." He muttered under his breath, "stubborn human. Typical."
"Stupid Wood-Elf," rebutted Aragorn a bit savagely. He watched as Legolas used his spare hand to grasp the chain and pull himself up to ease the pressure on his wrist. Legolas had been doing this off and on before he went unconscious from the pain it caused when he lost his grip and jerked back down and it didn't make Aragorn sad, it infuriated him to know that his friend was in such pain. And his anger was not entirely directed at his enemies either, he was the one who had allowed Legolas to follow him.
He should have forced Legolas to home for however much good that would have done. Legolas was every bit as stubborn as he was if not more so and the more you pestered him about doing something, the more he resisted. Legolas was also annoying in the sense he had an impossible way of being able to completely ignore you if he didn't want to hear what you had to say. Something that the ranger guessed he had learned early in life, a result of living with constantly chattering Wood-Elves and being a Wood-Elf himself. Of course that really didn't make too much sense, but when you actually thought about it you could vaguely understand it.
Legolas began to shake and his breathing accelerated as he felt his meager grip on the links slipping slowly free. Anticipating the pain he was about to experience, Legolas bit his lower lip silently as he felt his last bit of strength that was too weak to hold on for long give.
The fall was brief but the pain lasted longer. Looking up at the ceiling as he tried to hold his composure after falling and jerking against the bond, Legolas realized what a decayed place they were in. In the light of the spluttering torches that gave the room a horrid and suffocating smell he saw he beams above were fallen into complete disrepair. Particularly the one his chain was attached to.
Spiders had made their numerous sticky homes above. Of course living with much larger, crueler and insidious relatives of these little beasts gave him the understanding that these infinitesimal things were more or less harmless. He was hardly frightened of them. Though that didn't mean that he didn't find them to be totally disgusting.
Swallowing hard, the Elf looked back down at Aragorn, who was glaring up at him with a look that reminded him all too much like one he imagined Elrond would give in this sort of situation. And the unbelievable thing was that Aragorn was not one of Elrond's sons by birth. If one saw the looks they used he would think that Aragorn was the son of Celebrian for certain.
Legolas smiled at the thought and then he catechized, "would you please stop giving me that you-are-a-stubborn-idiot glare…I am going through enough at the moment." It was a rough jest, but anyone else who heard it wouldn't understand unless Aragorn turned his nearly evil glare upon them.
"Would you rather I give you the you-are-incredibly-annoying-and-will-pay-later stare?" inquired the ranger as to Legolas preference. He watched Legolas's dimmed blue eyes darken further in a scathing glare of his own that made his face strongly resemble a sky before a storm broke. Aragorn started inside at the sharp resemblance between Legolas and Thranduil, though he knew he should not have been surprised.
"Don't push your luck ranger," warned Legolas in a flat voice while he worked on keeping his muscles under control. He was getting alarmed at how they continually wanted to jerk and convulse. As a matter of fact, stark fear was beginning to inch its way into his heart, like a vine slowly choking a tree.
"Too bad you can't get down, I might get scared," teased the human, trying to make his friend laugh.
Legolas didn't laugh, he just muttered hazily around a set of grit teeth, "wait and see you filthy human." Leaning his head on his arm and letting his hair fall over his face, the Elf wheezed and muttered, "if someone offered to kill me, I think, I might take them up on it."
His tone was almost sarcastic but more corrosive, determined Aragorn as he looked upon his dangling friend, watching him draw ragged breaths that were a torment.
He was in great pain himself but surprisingly the water of the cell had helped revive him. Something which he was still trying to figure out. But Legolas was flushed from fever and his wounds were still blood covered. His battered chest was being stretched as well as his arm and Aragorn wouldn't be surprised if the prince ended up dislocating his own as well.
"I really should have forced you to go home," Aragorn murmured remorsefully as he looked sorrowfully at the water surrounding him.
"Are you really going to go on another guilt trip?" asked Legolas, raising a brow behind his curtain of lose blonde hair. His voice was barely audible. "You know as well as do I that anything and everything you say concerning why this is all your fault is mostly all figments of your over-whelmed imagination."
"Legolas, you do not understand…"
"Excuse me?" asked the prince with some heat. "Human, if you think you could have run me off and continued on your own, you are out of your mind. And, if I wanted to, I could follow you without you so much as guessing I was anywhere nearby. Don't flatter yourself."
Aragorn shook his head and continued most adamantly as he struggled to stand, "Elf, you have to be the most stubborn creature Illuvater ever created!" He mumbled darkly, "you get it from your father."
Legolas was about to make a sharp remark back but he thought better of it. Glancing with repulsion at the slimly, filthy, disgusting, unappetizing, cold, dark and foreboding wall, The blonde Elf wrinkled his nose and said in abomination, "you would have thought they could give us better lodgings!"
Aragorn snorted and accused grimly, "you are changing the subject mellon in."
Legolas raised both of his eyebrows and smiled. Slightly inclining his head to the right he said sardonically, "and I was working so hard to hide that fact." He then stuck his nose up and mumbled in mock pride, "but I have my reasons. The fact is that trying to make you understand you are wrong about anything is like trying to tell a blind mule that it's about to walk off a cliff!"
"But you can't speak mule."
"My point exactly."
Aragorn glared, "that was harsh, Greenleaf, very harsh."
"And well earned." Legolas' answer was generally to be expected but it still got on Aragorn's nerves just a little.
Then an eerie silence fell between them and both looked at the iron barred door with small frowns on their faces.
TBC…Not too much in this chapter we suppose, but you guys can't have everything after all. Please review. You guys were wonderful, really. Those were all so great. Thanks for every single one of them.