Legolas' eyes were wide as he rode through the woods outside Imladris. He had been born in a forest, had spent his whole life living in one – but this was nothing like Mirkwood. The trees were verdant and green, flowers popped up like smiling faces out of the grass, birds trilled sweet melodies as they danced in the blue skies, and… As the Prince watched a family of playing foxes, he felt rather than heard Glorfindel laugh behind him.
"It is beautiful, do you agree?" the seneschal asked softly.
"I do. It is very different to what I am used to," Legolas replied.
Glorfindel nodded, assuming he meant the cottage. "That is not hard for me to imagine. In a matter of minutes we will be in the valley. You will meet Lord Elrond then, and I am afraid that he will ply you with herbs, convinced that his sons and I have not done enough to help you."
"You have," Legolas said quickly. "My wounds pain me no longer, and are only just visible. It has been a week, after all."
"How does that make you feel?" Elladan asked carefully.
The Prince looked to where the twins rode, and shook his head. "I don't know. It is strange. Sometimes I think that this time just last week, I was being beaten and punished. That is an overwhelming thought. But I would have it few other ways. I am glad to be here, so glad."
"Have you ever been to Imladris?" Elrohir questioned. "You must have lived with Elves before-
"Mirkwood."
Glorfindel snapped his head up, and his hand unconsciously tightened on the boy's shoulder. "Mirkwood?" he repeated. "That is strange. Word has not been sent by the King to let us know of any disappearance."
"Strange indeed," Legolas said quietly. "Elladan, may I have my book, please?"
"Of course, penneth."
The child still had not revealed his name to the elder immortals, even after a week of journeying with them. He trusted them, but still… Was it so wrong to be careful? Of course not. Legolas let go of Asfaloth's mane, and reached out to take his book from the dark haired Elf, who had been carrying it in his pack. His fingers curled around it; and as he pulled his arm back, a pair of Elves dressed in soldier's uniform dropped from the trees to land before the horses. He drew in a sharp breath of fear, and his book fell to the leafy floor.
"Peace," Glorfindel soothed. "These are soldiers of Imladris. You have as much to fear from them as you do from the twins and I."
"Forgive us if we caused alarm," one of the newcomers said.
"My book," Legolas muttered.
"Here, let me." The Elf who had spoken reached down, and lifted the leather bound book into his hands. A slight breeze blew through the woods, flicking the pages over; and the soldier's eyes raked over them. "Lord Glorfindel, we were unaware that the King of Mirkwood was visiting. Lord Elrond has not informed us."
"Why do you say that?" the seneschal asked in surprise.
"Look at this…"
Legolas watched in horror as Glorfindel leaned forwards and took the book. "No," he breathed. "Please, don't…"
"Prince Thranduil Oropherion? What does…?"
The little boy could feel so many pairs of eyes on him, questioning him; and he realised that he didn't want to hear those questions spoken aloud. How was he supposed to answer? He pulled himself away from Glorfindel, and slid off Asfaloth's back to the ground, afraid to stay but afraid to run. Fear…that was a feeling he had not known for days, and now it was returning in full force. He bit down on his lower lip, and cast his gaze around nervously.
"Why are you so afraid?" Glorfindel asked softly. He leaned down, and held out his hand to the child. "Have your book back. It is not mine to look at, and I apologise for doing so. Please, take it. It is yours."
"You know," Legolas breathed. "You have guessed."
"What does he mean?" Elrohir questioned.
Glorfindel looked down at the frightened Elfling, and shook his head slowly. "I will not voice my thoughts here. Yes, I have guessed at something, but now is not the time or place for talk. That will come later."
"I am sorry," Legolas said, his voice barely audible. "For not telling you, I mean. I was scared."
"That I understand." Glorfindel dismounted and knelt before the child, taking the small face in his hands. His eyes shone with grief as he looked into the sapphire pools before him. "I know your father, penneth. You have nothing to fear from me where your identity is concerned. But your secret will not be kept for long. I-
"Don't let them hurt me," Legolas whispered. "That is why I didn't tell Seregeth until my time with him was nearly over – I thought that might be incentive for him to… I don't know. But it made me feel safer."
"Let me finish," Glorfindel said softly. "When your secret comes out, I want you to know and remember that no-one will use it against you. You will be safe here, whether your identity is known or not. Do you understand that?"
Legolas let out a shaky breath and raised his eyes, blinking back tears. "Yes, my Lord. I understand, and will not forget it."
"Good boy," Glorfindel murmured. He held the Elfling's gaze for a moment, before taking one of the small hands in his own. "Come. We will go to Lord Elrond's house, and you will be given some hot food, better than that which I have been able to give you over the last week."
As the small group rode on through the thinning trees, the twins glanced at each other, not a word passing between them. They had heard some of the conversation between the seneschal and Elfling, but that was not to say they understood it. Elrohir opened his mouth as if to say something, but Elladan shot him a sharp look, and shook his head to dispel the inevitable question.
"Not now," he muttered.
Elrohir looked straight ahead as they entered the courtyard, and a smile suddenly appeared on his face – Lord Elrond was standing nearby, talking quietly with a guard. "Adar!" the young Elf called, dismounting and running across the yard.
The Peredhil turned quickly, raising an eyebrow in surprise as his son all but pounced on him. "By the Stars, child. If you jumped with much more force, I would be on the ground," he said, though he smiled all the same.
"I am sorry, but I have missed you," Elrohir replied, drawing back from the embrace. "And although I enjoyed travelling, I am glad to be home."
"Evidently," Elrond said dryly. "I am pleased to see that you have returned with all limbs intact this time. You always seem to find trouble, whether you are supervised or not."
"That is a rather unfair comment," Elladan said. He led his horse towards his father, and embraced the elder Elf with his spare arm. "We do not go looking for trouble. It just finds us."
Legolas watched the laughing family in silent nostalgia, before pulling his attention away to look over his shoulder at Glorfindel. "How did you know?" he asked quietly. "How did you guess who I am?"
"The name in the book, and your reaction to my reading it aloud," the seneschal answered. "And you have his eyes. In fact, there is much about you that I have seen in him."
"You said before that you know him," Legolas whispered.
"I do."
"Are you friends?"
"Yes."
"Why have I never met you before?"
"Not many Elves travel from Imladris to Mirkwood unless it is unavoidable," Glorfindel replied. "The road is not as safe as it was. But you have met me. When you were born, a feast was held in your honour. I attended that."
Legolas looked down at the ground, readying himself to ask the question that he had to know the answer to. "Why didn't… Why did my father not send word to Imladris of my disappearance? If he wanted to find me, surely he would let his allies know so that they would help?"
"I-
"Glorfindel!"
The seneschal lifted the little boy into his arms, and dismounted as the Lord of Rivendell came towards them. "Elrond, mellon-nin, it is good to be back," he said with a smile. "As you can see, we have returned one more than we started out."
"Yes, that had not escaped my notice," the Peredhil replied. He turned to the Elfling, and although his eyes flickered in recognition, his voice was calm as he said: "Welcome to Imladris, penneth."
The child bit on his lower lip and glanced up at Glorfindel, who nodded once. "I am…I am Legolas, Hír-nin," he said quietly. "I thank you for your hospitality, and the kindness that your seneschal and sons have shown me."
"Legolas?" Elrond repeated. "Surely not Legolas Thranduilion?"
"Look at the eyes," Glorfindel said. "How could he not be the King's son?"
The Lord of Imladris nodded, and gestured for the two to walk with him towards the Last Homely House. "There is much indeed that I need to be told. But first of all, the Prince must eat and rest – I deem that he has endured some trials recently, and has not known comfort for some time. That will swiftly be put to rights."
"How do you know?" Legolas asked suddenly. He flushed as a pair of keen grey eyes turned upon him, but he held them with his own. "I am sorry, Hír-nin. I was just wondering if I am as transparent as you made me sound."
Elrond smiled, and rested a hand on the child's soft cheek. "You are far from transparent. You hold many secrets inside your heart. But I am not blind. I can see grief in your mind; and if that is not enough, I see sadness in your face. But I do not yet want to know what has caused your pain. What I want instead is to get you fed and rested as soon as possible. Your wellbeing is the greatest priority."
"I did tell you he is a healer," Glorfindel said apologetically. "And you have been warned of the herbs and medicines."
Elrond merely sniffed. "Legolas, I have not heard from your father in a long while. But I will write to him this very day, so that he knows where you are. I cannot begin to imagine why you were out of Mirkwood, but he must be worried for your safety. I…"
The Elven-lord continued to speak, but Legolas heard no more. Although he had been travelling for seven days with the knowledge that he was going to an Elven haven, not once had he realised what that meant. But now he did, and his heart bloomed with a sudden thrill of happiness – word was going to be sent to his father. They would soon be together again; and perhaps when that happened, he would be able to start putting the past behind him.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Far away from the Elven realm of Rivendell, Thalion dismounted in the town that had been his home since leaving Seregeth as a boy; and threw a coin to a small child who was waiting nearby to stable horses. He could feel eyes upon his back as he walked, but he did not meet them. Voices called out greetings to him, yet he gave no replies. It was not until two young men came and touched his shoulder that he stopped to make brief conversation with them.
"Captain, you have returned at last," one of the mortals said. "We were beginning to think that you had set up home with the Elves, and were not coming back at all."
"No, you were wrong there," Thalion replied. "I will not be staying here for very long, Curin. I have come to see my sister."
"And her husband, I take it?"
"What?"
The two blonde men glanced at each other in vague confusion. "Her husband," Surin replied. "She and Amarth have been wed for about a month now, they… Captain? Why does that anger you so?"
"He has come back," Thalion snarled. "After what he has done, that scum has the nerve to return? Why was I not informed of this? Were my orders not clear? When I sent you and the other men from Mirkwood, I told you all that if Amarth was seen, a messenger was to be sent to me. Yet he has been living under your noses for a whole month-
"But we did send a messenger," Curin broke in. "As soon as we got back and realised Amarth was here, we dispatched someone with a message for you."
"Who?"
"Elerdin."
Thalion passed a hand through his hair, and closed his eyes tightly as a horrible feeling settled in his stomach. "Elerdin did not reach me. No-one did. Valar, say not that this is happening, not now."
"Captain?"
"Prince Legolas is dead," Thalion said hollowly. "Your messenger must have befallen tragedy on the way to Mirkwood, so I assume he is dead also. It was only…it could not have been even a week back that the child was killed. If only word had reached me. Damn it, this would not have happened!"
"You speak in riddles, Captain," Surin said uncertainly.
"Where is Amarth now?"
"In your sister's home-
Thalion set off at a run, ignoring the calls of the brothers as he drew his sword with a furious snarl. Before his eyes was only an angry red mist that he had seen once before, the one that elicited such violence and rage in him. It intensified as he reached Surwen's house, and burst in through the door. The woman was nowhere to be seen, but Amarth was sitting at the table with an old book. He was on his feet immediately.
"Captain Thalion!" he breathed. "You have returned, I…you…"
"Are you surprised to see me? Did you think that I would spend the rest of my days searching for the Prince, and you would be safe the moment you were rid of him? How dare you!" Thalion roared, swinging his fist into the other's face. "How dare you take the child from his home? How dare you rip that family apart so heartlessly?"
"I did not mean to-
"You killed him! He is dead, his father is fading from grief, and his mother has to leave Arda itself to be free of her pain," Thalion snarled. "You did that. And you knew it would happen."
Amarth looked up, breathing heavily as blood dripped from his nose. "The Prince is dead?" he repeated softly. "Seregeth…killed him? No. I did not think that would happen. I did not expect it to go that far, I… Have you come to avenge him?"
"Scum," Thalion hissed. He struck again with his fists, and this time the other man was sent to the ground. "When you took Legolas, you were thinking only of yourself. Now you learn of his death, and you still think only of yourself! Why should I not kill you, to avenge him?"
"Because I did it all for love!" Amarth cried. "Is it so wrong when it is done for justifiable reasons?"
"Justifiable?" Thalion repeated quietly. "No. Nothing can justify what you have done, nothing. You have taken lives, and that is an unforgivable act. There are some things that are not worth committing crimes for, and love is one of them."
"That is not true. You have never loved, so you do not know-
"I know what is right and wrong, and that is more than can ever be said for you," Thalion snapped. "Are you even sorry that Legolas' life has been taken?"
"Yes, I am," Amarth retorted. "I am not as heartless as you might think."
"If that is true, you would not have taken him in the first place! Valar, just looking at you and knowing what dreadful deeds you have committed sickens me, and…" The dark haired man fell silent and took a few breaths, struggling to control his emotions. "I want to kill you, because people like you do not deserve to live. But also, I want to keep you alive so that you can live out the rest of your days with the knowledge of what you have done."
"Whichever you choose will not satisfy you," Amarth said quietly. "You will spend the rest of your days regretting the decision."
Thalion moved the tip of his sword to rest against the other's throat, and his eyes flickered in anger as one of his tumultuous thoughts pushed itself to the front of his mind. "The messenger that was sent to me. He did not reach Mirkwood. It was you. You killed him also, is that not so?"
"No. I did."
With a sharp intake of breath, Thalion spun around to face the door. He stared with wide eyes at the pregnant woman before him, but then he nodded slowly as if this was something he had expected. "So, you are with child," he said softly. "How far gone are you?"
"Four months," Surwen replied, her voice almost defiant.
"And, Amarth is the father?"
"Of course."
"You are sure of this?"
"What do you take me for?" the woman snapped.
Thalion swung his sword up to point at his sister, and let out a humorous laugh. "Many things. But I never, ever took you to be a murderer, and I… Are you lying to me? Are you trying to save your husband? Because there is not a lot that can do so."
"I tell no lies," Surwen said quietly, meeting and holding her brother's gaze. "It was I who killed Elerdin, not Amarth."
"If that is so, that means…" Thalion shook his head in disbelief as sudden and painful realisation hit. "Valar, you knew. You knew that the Prince of Mirkwood was with Seregeth. How could you? You of all people."
"Do not judge-
"Silence!" Thalion shouted. "When Amarth left with me for the forest, did you know what he was setting out to do? Did you? Answer me!"
Surwen flinched, and a single tear slipped out from under her dark eyelashes. "Yes," she whispered. "I knew."
"Then you are as evil as he," Thalion said quietly. "You deserve death as much as your husband does – perhaps even more so, because you have experienced Seregeth's cruelty. You knew what you were sending the little boy into, and yet you cared only for yourself."
"But you know now, and that means you can save him," Surwen answered. "What Amarth and I have done is wrong, but surely it can be made better by… Thalion?"
"You do not know," the man laughed. "Valar, you have no idea."
"Of what?"
Amarth rose, and met the fearful eyes of his wife. He dared not look into Thalion's. "The child… He has…" He swallowed, and stared down at the ground. "He is dead. Seregeth killed him."
"No!"
"Believe it," Thalion snarled. "Oh Surwen, don't cry. Don't! You do not deserve to shed tears for Legolas. Seregeth may have taken his life, but you helped to end it – you and your husband."
"What happens now?" Amarth wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders, and pulled her protectively to him. "We are at your mercy, and that means you can kill us to avenge the child, or let us live to avenge him. I do not think that either will ease the grief you feel, but a decision must be made."
Thalion swept a hand through his dark hair and held it there, closing his eyes in despair. "You already know what I will do. If Surwen had not come in, I would have killed you, Amarth. But she is expecting. Two deserve to die, not three. And yet, I cannot even kill just you, because that would leave your unborn child without a father. That is not something I can be guilty of. I am better than that."
"You are," Surwen whispered. "You have always been a better person than I."
"Don't compare us," Thalion snapped. "There was a time when I would do anything for you, even stick a knife into my own father. But that has changed. It changed in the very moment that you schemed to take a child from Mirkwood. You are no longer my sister. Everything that we endured together as children, everything that we came through…now it means nothing."
"And my unborn child?" Surwen breathed. "Does he mean nothing?"
"Of course not. A few days ago, someone said to me: the child cannot choose the parents it is born to," Thalion reflected. "Never before have I heard words so true. And ironically, it was Legolas' father who spoke them."
The woman looked away guiltily from her brother, and closed her eyes. "Don't."
"Afraid to hear of all the damage you have caused?" Thalion sneered. He curled his lip in disgust. "Fear not. I will spare you the details. But I digress. Your unborn child does mean something to me. When this ordeal is over, I may not return to live in this town, but rest assured I will come back periodically to ensure that the both of you are doing your duties as parents, and treating your son or daughter as you should. If I find anything – anything at all – that I deem unfit in the child's life, so help me you will regret the day you ever clapped eyes on each other. Hold me to that, because I swear, I will keep that promise."
The words could not be doubted. Thalion kept his sword levelled unwaveringly at the two, his eyes cold with a fury that was almost animalistic in its intensity. But then he was gone, snapping his weapon back into its sheath as he strode out of the house. The slamming of the door behind him made both Amarth and Surwen flinch; and as the echoes resounded in the small room, tears fell like rain from the woman's eyes.
"My brother," she breathed. "I have lost him."
As she sank into a chair and sobbed into her shaking hands, Amarth touched her shoulder and murmured soft words of comfort against her ear, trying to offer her some consolation as she grieved. But he did not grieve. A glint was in his dark eyes as he realised that he had escaped death, and was free. For him, Legolas' fate bought no consequences.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Evening had fallen in the valley of Imladris; and it was with some nervousness that Legolas looked upon the meal that had been set before him. It was not large, but the small portions that he had been served whilst at Seregeth's cottage did not compare to it. The Elves around him had already started to eat, but he was afraid to. Weeks of living under harsh rules and regulations had taught him to be cautious, even with such trivial matters as food and drink.
"Are you well?"
Legolas winced, and looked up guiltily at the others. "I am, my Lord. I just…the food…"
"If it is not to your satisfaction, I can have it sent away," Elrond said in concern. "Tell me what you would like to eat, and I will do my best to provide you with it. You only have to ask if you want for anything."
"No, the food looks and smells lovely, but I don't… I am unsure of what to do," Legolas replied quietly.
"What do you mean by that, penneth?"
Legolas bit on his lower lip, wishing desperately that the twins would look away. He knew that his face was flushed. "It sounds strange to you, my Lord, that I do not know how to eat a meal. But I have not lived freely for many weeks. When Seregeth fed me, I was only allowed to eat when he told me to. If I took too much food, I would be punished. I know that will not happen here, but…" The Elfling paused, and lowered his eyes to the floor. "I am sorry, my Lord. I should not be so ungrateful."
"You are not being so," Elrond said gently. "And I understand your hesitation. We all do. But you must eat, even if it is a small amount. We will not force anything upon you."
The words were innocent, but Legolas found his mind flashing back to the night on which Taras' heavy body had almost been forced upon him. For a few seconds he could feel hot breath against his ear as cruel words were whispered, could feel coarse hands against his neck, and… He snapped his eyes open as another hand alighted on his shoulder, and he jerked himself away sharply, shuddering as disgust swept over him.
"Don't touch me!"
"Peace, Legolas," Elrond said quietly. "You are safe here. You will not be hurt by anyone. This you already know. Look inside yourself, and you will see it."
The Prince drew a deep breath, and nodded shakily. "Forgive me, Hír-nin. I don't know what happened, I…I'm sorry."
"You need not apologise," Glorfindel murmured.
Elrond suddenly pushed back his chair, a strange expression on his normally serene face. "Legolas, would you mind leaving the table to come with me for a few moments? There is a matter I would speak of with you."
"Of course." The child followed the Elven-lord out of the dining hall and down the corridor; and it was with a heavy heart indeed that he did so. His manners at the table had been far from good, and he was quite sure that he had angered his host. A reprimand at the very least was inevitable – he only hoped he did not receive more.
Elrond stopped before an oak door, and pushed it open to reveal his office. "In there, penneth. Take a seat before the desk."
Legolas obeyed, watching nervously as the elder Elf went to stand quietly at the balcony doors, looking out into the night. He wondered what was going to happen. He liked and trusted Elrond, remembering that Thranduil had always spoken highly of him. But that was not enough to quell his sudden fear that punishment was just around the corner. The silence was the worst part, and the waiting.
"Are you going to beat me?"
Elrond visibly started, and turned quickly to face the little boy. "What? No, of course not! By Elbereth, what makes you ask such a question of me?"
"I was not well behaved at the dining table, and I thought that you had brought be here so that I could be punished," Legolas whispered. "Am I not going to be?"
"Valar, no. Whilst you are under my protection, I would never allow anyone to hurt you, and I most certainly would not do so myself," Elrond replied firmly. "I brought you here because I want to speak with you away from everyone else. Fear not, Legolas. You have done nothing to anger me. It takes much to do that."
"You were angry this morning," the child said slowly. "When Lord Glorfindel showed you my still visible wounds, you were very angry."
"I was," Elrond agreed. "But, to whom do you think that anger was directed?"
"To Seregeth."
The Elf-lord narrowed his eyes at the name, but nodded nonetheless. "Yes. Not to you, but to the man who hurt you so. Although, I think it fair to say that he deserves much more than anger."
"I am sorry," Legolas said quickly. "For asking if you were going to hurt me, I mean. I just had to know. It was always the waiting, the not knowing that I hated especially."
"Of course." Elrond paused, and took a seat opposite the child. When he spoke, his voice was grave. "So far, you have only told me bits and pieces of your time with Seregeth, and I understand why. You are reluctant to speak of him too much – naturally so – perhaps out of fear or grief conceived by your trauma. But I must ask a question of you, and it is very important that you answer me as best you can."
"I will try."
Elrond leaned forwards slightly, and drew a deep breath before continuing. "Whilst in the dining hall, I spoke words to you that elicited a reaction I did not expect. I said 'we will not force anything upon you'; and that frightened you. Can you tell me why?"
"Because…because I…" Legolas looked away as shame washed over him, and shook his head. "It did frighten me, but…"
"Very well, say nothing more," Elrond interjected gently, sensing the boy's struggles. "Let me ask you something else. Whilst living with Seregeth, did he or anyone else use you, use your body in ways that they should not have? You do not have to speak. Just nod or shake your head, little one. But I need to know."
"It wasn't…" This time Legolas looked up at the ceiling, blinking back the tears that stung at his eyes. "It wasn't Seregeth. But he had a friend – Taras."
"What did Taras do to you?" Elrond pressed softly.
"He tried to touch me," the Elfling whispered. "He tried to touch me and…and do other things. I don't want to say, my Lord. I cannot. All I knew was that if I let him win I would die, because I could never be strong enough to survive such an attack. So I fought him off as best as I was able to, and he left me alone."
"He did nothing?" The Peredhil's voice was quiet, yet the cold fury contained within was evident. "You stopped Taras before he could inflict irreparable damage?"
"I stopped him," Legolas murmured. "I stopped him."
Elrond rose as the little boy started to cry quietly, and touched a hand to one of the shaking shoulders. "Listen to me, penenth. There are men such as Seregeth and Taras who seek to destroy the innocent, and we all discover that at a point in our lives. But you have discovered it in the cruellest way possible, and nothing will ever change that. You have suffered. You have been abused. But you have to know that none of it was your fault. You did nothing to deserve what they did."
"He was touching me," Legolas whispered. "I felt so…so dirty. When I remember it I can still feel his hands trying to reach underneath my tunic, I can smell him, and it makes me want to scream And as I remember it I try to believe that it was all them, but I cannot. I just feel ashamed."
"Ashamed? No. No, do not ever…" Elrond closed his eyes, his heart aching for the young victim. "There are some pains that cannot be healed by words alone, and this is one of them. You will hurt for a time yet, and you will be confused and angry and afraid. But you will survive this. With the help and constant support from your family and friends, you will come out on the other side stronger than ever. I have faith in you."
Legolas looked up, and brushed away the tears that had dampened his cheeks. "You do?"
"Of course. You are very brave," Elrond said quietly. "There is already a strength inside of you that I think will be known to many in years to come. One day, that strength will help to save lives and change fates. I see that in you."
"Can you see into the future?"
The Elf-lord laughed at the sudden childish bluntness, and gave a brief incline of his head. "Let us say instead that I can see further than most. Is that a satisfactory answer for you, little one?"
"Yes, thank you." Legolas paused, and glanced sideways at the Peredhil. "You are related to the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien, are you not? Only, my father says that she can see the future by looking into a wash basin. Is that true, my Lord?"
"I do not think that your father was being entirely truthful," Elrond replied, hiding a smile. "He and Galadriel are not the greatest of friends, and-
"My Lord!"
The two Elves looked up quickly as a guard burst into the room; and the elder of the two gave an irritated frown. "What is the meaning of this? I am busy with the Prince."
"I know, my Lord, and I ask for your forgiveness," the guard replied breathlessly. "But there is a situation in the courtyard which demands your attention. I would not disturb you if it was unimportant."
"Very well. Legolas, you may return to the dining hall now, or to your room," Elrond said gently. As the child left, he turned grey eyes upon the guard. "I hope that this is indeed important, to have called me away from him."
………………………………………………………………………………………………
The Elves of Mirkwood rode through the woods bordering the valley of Imladris, their horses' hooves making little noise upon the leafy floor as they went. Elven eyes of guards watched them from the trees, but none made any comment of the scrutiny. Words had become a luxury a week ago, spoken only when it was necessary; and even then they were used sparsely. The King spoke not at all. He had fallen silent on the day of discovering his son's death, and there was nothing, understandably, that could elicit speech from him.
Alondir looked across at the younger Elf, wondering if an attempt at conversation would be fruitless. Yes, it probably would, but the need to at least try was strong in him. "Thranduil?" he began softly. "Thranduil, mellon-nin. We have reached Imladris."
Silver eyes were slowly raised, and they flicked briefly around the woods before alighting on the commander. He winced to see them, and almost wanted to look away. Never before had he seen anything quite so tragic, so sad. And it hurt. It hurt, knowing that the pain reflected in those beautiful pools was mirrored in Thranduil's soul. Elves were not meant to suffer so. Such intense grief was fatal.
"But you have been strong," Alondir murmured, forgetting the soldiers riding a way behind them as he reached across to touch his friend's shoulder. "You will not reply to me, I know that. But you can hear me, and you must know that I am so proud of you. Your wife and son would be also."
Thranduil turned his gaze upwards, and watched the moon in silence. He attempted to think up some sort of answer, but he knew that even had one formed, it would not have left his lips. Beside him, the commanding officer exhaled deeply, but he felt no guilt. It was not wrong. Only in his troubled mind could he be alone with his thoughts and memories; and intrusions only dragged him back into a reality that he did not wish to know any more. All that he had left now was solitude, and he could not lose that as well as everything else.
"If I could take your pain away, I would have done so long ago," Alondir said quietly. "But I cannot, no matter how much I want to. Elrond will help you, though. He will help us all to survive this. He will. He will save us."
As they rode across the bridge and into Rivendell, Thranduil shook his head in vague derision, shutting out the reassurances of his friend. He did not want to listen to them any more, he should have stopped doing so long ago – there was never any truth to them: only lies and deception; and those betrayals stung deeply. Although, did it really matter? Too much pain existed already in his life for him to fear further hurt.
The Elven ruler exhaled deeply as he and the soldiers entered the courtyard. Greetings were extended from the Imladris Elves – evidently a message had been sent ahead to announce the arrival – but the replies that were given were grim and quiet. Thranduil, of course, remained silent. He did not want to be there. But nor did he want to be in Mirkwood. Valinor, perhaps? No. The Halls of Mandos? No. He didn't know, he didn't care. All he was doing was living monotonously, following a path that seemed to be leading him nowhere.
Alondir dismounted and went towards the Rivendell commander, a friend he had trained with centuries ago. "Tinerian, I must see Lord Elrond immediately," he said quickly. "It is an urgent matter."
"Lord Elrond?"
"Yes. Valar, say not that he is away from here," Alondir breathed.
"No, he is here. A guard was sent to him when we learnt of your arrival," Commander Tinerian answered. "I am merely surprised. You were not expected here. And your King even less so."
"It is because of my King that we are here," the Mirkwood Elf said, his voice low. "He needs Elrond's healing skills."
"But, surely you have come for Prince Legolas?"
"Prince Legolas? What does he have to do with this? And, how do you know-
"Commander!"
Alondir turned, and felt a great weight leave his chest as his eyes fell upon Rivendell's Lord. "Ai, never before have I felt such joy at seeing you. It does my heart good, mellon-nin."
"How is it that you arrived here so soon? I was not expecting you for at least another week," Elrond answered. "I sent a messenger but this morning. Did you intercept him?"
"A messenger?"
"Yes." The Elf-lord hesitated, and looked towards the King and the soldiers. He wondered if they even knew that Legolas was… "Alondir, why are you here? I do not think it is for the reason that I called you."
"More than likely not. This will come as a shock to you, I do not doubt, but…" The silver haired Elf lowered his eyes, and let out a deep sigh of breath. "This is not easy for me to say. My Prince is…he is dead. My Queen is due to sail any day now. My King is fading, and only you can save him. That is why we are here."
Elrond stared in wonder for a moment, before looking towards the house. Glorfindel was standing there watching, but at a nod from his Lord he left without a word. "Whatever I may have expected," the Peredhil said slowly, "this was not it. May I see the King?"
"This way."
Thranduil had dismounted and was standing quietly by his horse, listening to but not really hearing the conversations around him. He looked lost, unsure of what to do. It pained Elrond to see the usually strong character so diminished; and as he looked upon the hurting Elf, he was reminded sharply of the child who had lost a brother so many years ago.
"Mellon-nin," he said softly, "I can only begin to imagine how deep your pain must run. But it will leave you sooner than you can know. You will be free of it."
"He will not give you a reply," Alondir murmured.
Thranduil glanced briefly at the commander, before turning his gaze upon Elrond. "I know not why I am here," he said, his voice low. "You think that you can heal me? No. It cannot be done. Even your powers are not great enough for this."
"Perhaps not," Elrond agreed. "But your heart will be whole before this night is out, believe that. There are other ways to heal."
"Vilya?" Thranduil hissed. "I will not be prey to that sorcery. I do not want to be. Am I asking so much? Solitude is not wrong. Wanting to be alone with my grief and pain is not wrong, yet I have been dragged across Arda so that you can use your magic and rid me of what is natural. That is wrong."
Elrond flicked his eyes around the courtyard, wondering if any of the dispersing soldiers had heard the mention of his Ring. When he looked back at the younger ruler, he shook his head slowly. "I will play no part in healing you. Nor will Vilya. You will be saved by something much stronger – love. A child's love."
"What does that mean?" Alondir cut in tersely.
"I know little of what has happened in the last month, but I know enough to piece together a few events. For some reason, Legolas went missing. Commander, you lost your Prince; Thranduil, you lost your son," Elrond answered, letting his gaze rest on both of the Mirkwood Elves. "Since his disappearance, you have been searching for him, I assume? Somehow – I do not know how, I do not know why – you have been led to believe that he has passed on. But I can tell you now, he is-
"Ada!"
Thranduil whirled to face the Last Homely House, his eyes searching desperately for the child who sounded so much like his own. And there he was: a thin Elfling with blonde hair that hung below his shoulders, he was running as fast as his small legs could carry him into the courtyard and… Valar. The Elven-king could only stare in wonder and fear, not hearing the cries of joy from Alondir and the remaining soldiers, nor the words that seemed so unbelievable from Elrond: Legolas lives.
"How can this be?" he breathed. "Tell me I am not dreaming. Please…"
"You dream not. This is real," Elrond said gently. "That is your son. Do not be afraid to go to him."
Blinded by tears that fought each other to escape, Thranduil stumbled forwards and fell to his knees, pulling the child into his arms and holding the small figure as tightly as he could. Legolas allowed himself to be enveloped in the embrace, sobbing as emotions overwhelmed him: relief, joy, love. They were too much for him to understand. He tangled his hands in the material of his father's tunic, and… The action brought more tears. Only a matter of minutes ago, such a small pleasure had been denied him.
"I thought you were lost," Thranduil whispered. "I thought that you had been taken from me, that you were… Oh, Legolas. Legolas, my son. You have been returned to me at last…"
"I didn't think that I would ever see you again," the boy choked out. "And that scared me, it scared me so much. But I tried to be brave, Ada. I tried for you."
Thranduil pulled back from the embrace and rested a trembling hand on one of his son's pale cheeks, letting his fingers play over every feature and through the golden hair, as if to further reassure himself that his child really did stand before him. How could this be happening, and so swiftly too? Before, his world and his life had meant nothing because Legolas was not there. But now… He closed his eyes against more tears, though they fell nonetheless.
"Do you cry for the same reason as I?" the Prince asked softly. "Are your tears ones of joy?"
"More so than they have ever been," Thranduil replied. Exhaling shakily, he pulled his child back into his arms and buried his face in the flaxen hair, struggling to believe that this was happening to him. To feel so much joy after such great grief and hurt was almost painful in itself.
As he was held in a grip that he had feared he would not know again, Legolas looked over his father's shoulder, letting his eyes roam over the soldiers who he had been friends with in Mirkwood, and finally allowing them to alight upon the commander. Alondir saluted, and the little boy smiled through his tears. It was over. It was finally over. He was back with the people he knew and loved, and… No. There was one missing. Laerwen was not there.
"Ada, did Nana come with you?" he asked. "Or did she stay at home?"
Thranduil stood, and lifted his son into his arms. He noted absently that Legolas was both thinner and lighter than he should be, but looking into the child's earnest face made the thought vanish. "No, ion-nin. She is not here. She is…waiting for you, though."
"Where?"
As the Mirkwood ruler struggled to form an answer for his son, Elrond stepped forwards and rested a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "You have many questions to ask, penneth. But your father is weary, as are you. I suggest that after having some food, you both sleep. Then when the morning comes, you may talk to your heart's content. Is that fair?"
"Yes, it is," Legolas replied. "Thank you. My Lord, I do not want to be of any trouble to you, but may I change rooms so that I can stay with my father for at least this night? I…I do not want to be away from him."
"I would have it no other way, and I am sure that he would not either," Elrond answered, glancing at the younger ruler. "I will have you put into a room together."
Thranduil nodded his thanks, before looking back at the child in his arms. As though for the first time, he noticed fading bruises and healing cuts, not to mention the missing front tooth. His eyes narrowed coldly. "What happened to cause these injuries, ion-nin? Who hurt you so? Was it-
"Tomorrow," Legolas cut in. "Lord Elrond said that we should wait until the morning before talking. I agree with him. I want this night to be a happy one."
"And so it shall be," Thranduil replied. But he wanted to know. Now that he was reunited with his son, the need to know was strong indeed.
As the Elves walked across the courtyard and up the steps, Thranduil felt a pair of grey eyes trained on him. He glanced sideways at Elrond; and although no words passed between them, he knew that the elder ruler was silently asking after Laerwen, searching for confirmation that the news of her sailing was truth. The Mirkwood Elf hesitated for a painful few seconds, but he nodded once as he felt the Queen's pendant against his chest. There was little that he could deny any more.
"I know not what power is in me to do this," Elrond said softly, "but I will bring her back to you. There is time – a small amount, yes – but time enough to save your wife."
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I told you guys there would be some happiness - we just had to get through all of the hurt first! Now, I know that Seregeth wasn't in this chapter, but I haven't forgotten about him. You'll be seeing him again next chapter.
I hope you enjoyed this, and I'll try and reply to reviews for the last chapter when I've had my dinner!
Misto
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