This is getting too long again, so this seems a reasonable place to break it.
Thank you to those who have so kindly commented and that I cant respond to, your comments are most gratefully received. Thanks too to those who are sticking with this despite the fact that life prevents me updating regularly I'm so glad you find it worthwhile.
Interlude
'Hail O king of the Woodland Realm. I trust this letter finds you in the same good health and heart as when I last slept within your halls.'
At any other time the elaborate greeting would have brought a wry smile to Thranduil's lips but on this occasion it passed unnoticed.
He was sitting in a patch of sunlight beneath the king's tree close to the sacred glade of Eru west of the palace, and though he knew his guard would not be far away for the moment they were out of his sight and he had at least the illusion of being alone.
He had opened the letter with some trepidation, a feeling which had deepened as he realised that the thickness of the little packet reflected the number of sheets as well as the number of folds. Mithrandir was an infrequent correspondent and if he could have said 'I am sure she has not been touched by the dark one' then that was all he would have written; but the length of the letter showed that he had felt the need to say more than that, which meant either that he had found the worst, and was warning on how best to proceed, or that the matter was not resolved. Thranduil most fervently hoped that it was the latter. Unresolved it would mean more watching and waiting but that was better than the bleakness of the alternative. With a sigh he laid the letter upon his thigh and gazed around him wishing only that he could forget the matter.
The day was gentle, the chill of winter finally gone from the breeze that played with the ends of his hair and ruffled the edges of his deep green robe. Leaning back against the tree he turned his face towards the sun, just visible through the spring foliage, revelling in the warmth and in the sight of the soft golden light dancing on the new leaves. His forest was calm and content, as yet no hint of evil returned disturbed it. In the small bushes close by rustlings and scurrying told of nesting birds and foraging creatures and he smiled at the sounds of life about its business unmolested and taking little notice of the woodland king so close beside them.
It had been many centuries since he had been able to enjoy even this level of solitude beyond his palace walls, since he had been able to walk amongst the trees and commune with them unarmed and without his guard within a swords swipe. As long since he had been able to venture this far from his Halls without wearing armour of some form, something else he forgone today, much to his advisors consternation, wishing to feel the air and sun upon his skin and to remember the days of peace that he had spent so many centuries fighting to regain for his people.
Such times of rest had been rare these last centuries, not least for a king who battled daily to hold the darkness in check and provide some safety, some peace and pleasure for his people amongst those battles. The more recent loss of Legolas had also brought much grief and weariness, short though the time of his son's wandering had been. Now that too was past, even if the causes of his flight were not fully mended, and his son was back under his father's watchful eye where there would be help to resist the despair if it pulled Legolas back towards the depths. The breeze tugged at the letter and he clamped his hand upon it, a faint frown settling on his brow at the reminder of it. There were times when giving such help was difficult even now, and there were still too many occasions when he saw the sadness in those familiar eyes or watched the flush of shame steal across his son's cheek as some careless remark brought back the memory of regretted deeds and words. There were still the odd moment when the father had to bite down on words of wisdom, even comfort, not sought, or look away when he would wish to hold out a hand but knew it would only deepen the sense of guilt and loss that Legolas still struggled to set aside. How many such moments would this letter bring? He didn't know but just one would be too many. Yet despite the times of uncertainty and helplessness it was far better than knowing his son to be wandering lost and alone.
But today was not such a day. For the moment Legolas was joyfully occupied in much happier pursuits, in being the prince he wished to be, and his father knew that nothing would occur to mar it, for he had taken great care that it should be so.
He had left at sunrise to deliver a consignment of saplings to the staging point, these young trees would be the first planting in the dragon blasted land, the flat plain that stretched towards the now naked slopes of Erebor, and their transport warranted some ceremony. Once the forest had stretched to the mountain itself, to the grey mountains to the north too, and in time it would again, for the trees in Legolas's care were the first of the many that the Elvenking had promised to that ravaged flank of his Realm. Their coming would be a sign of hope, a reminder that where evil has been driven out good can once again flourish. The Prince had escorted them on their journey and the King would be there when they were first set into the ground. But that would not be for another two seasons, for a while they would be allowed to adjust to the wind and harsh light of the open land under the watchful gaze of his people at the river. Yet sending them out from the forest was a matter of note, a symbol of hope returned, and Legolas had been eager to be their guardian on the journey.
There was to be a ceremony of welcome for the new trees at the staging point and they had taken wine and food to the little community of elves that lived there and who would be the trees first custodians outside of the forest. Thranduil smiled at the dancing leaves above him, knowing his peoples love of a feast, and how much his son wished to feel a part of his people again, it was unlikely that Legolas would be back before the forest had seen another sunrise or two. Which left him able to enjoy his solitude, and for this moment, this little space of respite, Thranduil offered his whole hearted thanks, and he was resolved to take as much pleasure from it as other matters allowed.
He sighed into the breeze, his smile fading, but other matters could not be entirely set aside, that was not the lot of a king. Other matters such as the letter lying on his thigh, the folded sheets still held down by his gloveless hand, the seal ring on his finger glinting gold, amber and green in the soft light. This letter that some part of him was so loath to read knowing that it could bring certainty but also much pain, and he found that for all his great desire to know the answers it might contain he didn't want that pain on so lovely a day.
There had been some temptation to set the letter aside when it was brought to him and not read it at all, at least not today, but truly he had no choice but to do so for Legolas was sure to hear of its arrival at the river and ask the substance of it on his return. So he must read it, and reflect upon its contents, before he faced that request, for if Gandalf had found for the worst then he would have to act swiftly. There would be plans to be made for he must send his son away before her arrest and inevitable trial and punishment for he would not have Legolas sit in judgement upon her. Yet as a member of the Royal house and the Council that duty would be placed upon him if he was within the kingdom at the relevant time. The thought of what that might mean for Legolas sent a chill through his blood despite the warm air, there was nothing in Arda that would cause him to allow that. Nor could he allow it to be thought that Legolas had run away from the duty or that he feared to do it, any such suggestion would undo all that had been done since his return to redeem him in the eyes of those who censured him for his actions in Dale. No, if the news was bad then he would send Legolas away on some errand and as soon as he could and before the matter was known to others. There were several errands that would easily explain such a command from the king.
Thranduil tilted his head towards the sun and formed a list for further consideration; he might send him to Celeborn to take stock of the state of the southern forest. It was true that his informants indicated that there was no sign that the darkness had returned and so the matter could wait but if Legolas needed to be gone then he could bring it forward and none would question it. Or he might send him to Imladris as escort to Elrond and his foster son, something he had considered anyway and would have done had Legolas expressed any interest in going. Or he might send him out to scout the lands towards the Grey Mountains, north towards the Withered Heath where they had found the Easterlings not more than three moons ago. There would be others if he set his mind to it, though it would not do to send him too far for he would be needed here when Elrond arrived.
He fingered the paper again and frowned; whichever he chose he needed to be ready quickly and even then it might mean some small delay in responding to the threat. On balance that would seem to be of little matter for she had been in Dale since the day of the battle with no apparent harm done, leaving her there for another moon cycle or two could be of no consequence given how closely she was watched.
But for this moment he did not have to plan for such an eventuality, the letter remained unread and the day continued fair, and he could delay reading it a little longer.
He stared towards the sky, his frown fading, smiling slightly as the tree whispered to him of its pleasure in his presence and the joy at the days of light after so much darkness. Somewhere in the whispering was the recognition that darkness was not gone for ever but today the trees were happy, the wind and rain were clean and the land was without pain. For the moment the only thing they asked of him was that he rested, was also happy, and grew strong against the time when the darkness returned.
He sighed and nestled further back into the trees' embrace and opened his mind to it. As the sun warmed his skin he sighed in pleasure and allowed himself to admit to the forest how the years of fighting had wearied him, even without the ill mannered stupidity of dwarfs, the excesses of foolish children and a wizard who sometime gave scant thought to consequences and even less to the lessons of the past. It had been hard, for not all of the invading evil had come in the solid shape of spiders and warg, and though the magic of his people was strong it had fallen to him as their king to hold back the worst of the evil enchantments, particularly in the darkest of days. For this moment he could admit how rapacious that darkness had been, and how much of himself he had had to give to hold the line. It had required all of is Sindar knowledge brought from the west as well as everything that he had learned from his people to keep the darkness from overwhelming all of Greenwood.
Even then he had grieved for each bush and tree blighted by the venom of the spiders and each acre abandoned in the face of overwhelming odds of warg and wild wolf and the creeping dark enchantment leaching from the fortress. Each loss a pain he had borne without comment, offering only apology to the forest he so often felt he had failed, gathering his people together, doing all his power to unite them into a stronger nation, providing them with a place of safety into which they could withdraw to regroup if their enemies came too close. He had chosen his friends carefully using all the wisdom of his years on Arda, and he had kept his enemies at bay as far as he could. Those he did not know he treated with caution remembering how the enemy could twist minds and hearts, ignoring their blandishments as well as their curses. He did not complain that his people fought alone, nor did he rail at Elrond and Galadrial for their holding of rings and the safety and peace they enjoyed as a result whilst they offered his people no help.
He sighed again, if only they had struck it when he first asked the Council to then…., he pushed the thought away for there was no point in such wondering now, he had been proved right in the end but there was no joy in that for anyone, certainly not for him. He had fought alone and he had lost much, but he had not lost all. Today was a day for being glad of that.
The tree whispered its agreement and repeated the request that he rest.
Rest and freedom from care, yes he would like that if only for a little while, but the paper beneath his hand told him that troubles were still lapping at his gates. Thranduil closed his fingers around the paper again and frowned slightly feeling a faint stirring of regret, perhaps he should not have agreed to the wizard's request. He was not sure what he had expected when Gandalf had set off for Dale but he had hoped that that there might be enough answers to allow them to close the doors on some part of that bitter past for his sons sake.
Tauriel had betrayed those who had loved and protected her and those whom she should have protected, in the course of which she had trampled all honour and duty, all loyalty, on little more than a whim; yet if had ended there he would have tried to find a way to bring her home. But it had not and when thwarted in her desires she had threatened to take his life with her own hand, and had been prepared to do so. For that her current punishment was perhaps too lenient, too kind. She that he had taken into his house, the child he had read to and sung with and taught to use a bow had wished to take his life, and however much he tried to understand, struggled to forgive, the memory would always be lurking, a shadow that he would never quite drive away. Even so he could not bring himself to wish for the judgment that must come down to her if Gandalf found most truly against her.
But if there was any chance at all that she had fallen to the dark lords enticements it could not be ignored. Whatever his personal wishes and fears the good of his Realm, and perhaps the whole of Arda, would take precedence. Not even his concerns for Legolas could be allowed to sway him if that was the outcome. All he could do now was pray that the wizard did not find some deeper darkness in her; for if he had then they would all feel the touch of an evil that could never be set aside.
The tree behind him seemed to whisper that now was not the moment for such thoughts the tendrils of the forest mind entwining around his own, its song sending shivers of joy and a calm and languorous ease through his body. The blue of his eyes slipped to green as the forest spirit wound itself about him. He clamped his hand down upon the letter again, but the sense of urgency fled before the forests' voice; he would not read it yet, the uncertainty could last a little longer, the day was sweet and he was weary of care, the forest and his guards would watch over him if he took a little time to rest.
The wind stirred the branches above him and the tree crooned a sympathetic song, the gold green light wrapped itself around him and the king of the wood drifted off into dreams of the past and walked again with those he had lost.
Around him the trees danced and called to his guard.
'The king sleeps, come and watch over him. Closer, come.'
With a small smile the guards made their way to the king's tree and settled themselves around the glade where they could see their sleeping lord, happy to wait and keep watch in the peace of the shifting shadows until he woke.
xxx
They had arrived at the staging point whilst the sun was all but done with its climb and the shadows were sharp and hard. Many had gathered to greet the trees brought from their place of sprouting in the kings halls in readiness for the new planting. There was a joyful atmosphere with much song and music, the sound of the lyre rippling on the breeze and mingling with the burble of the river and the rustle of the young trees. Tables had been laid in the warm spring sunshine and food and wine were being laid out even as Legolas and his company first approached the little settlement.
This was not one of the main toll points on the river and normally the elven population was small, but today it was thronged by many who had come from other staging posts and with guards who were returning to the forest after a duty in the City garrison. There were even some mortal men, woodsmen and barge men who lived or worked within the Thrandul's Realm. The knowledge that in time the forest would once again spread up through the lands blasted by the dragon and lap at the feet of the mountain brought them hope of prosperity for their sons and daughters, for none of them here today would ever see these trees reach their maturity.
Watching them Legolas felt the usual stirring of unease when faced with such a reality, knowing how easy it was for men to plunder without care when they would never have to see the truth or bear the consequences of it. His mind drifted back to the day when his father had first stood him beneath a tall beech, a tree just reaching its full glory, and explained to him how many generations of men had come and gone within the life of a tree that was as yet not old. Even now, nearly two millennia later, when he had seen many trees grow tall and fail and seen the similar rise and destruction of the lands of mortal men it was something he found difficult to fathom. While his father held the Forest these young trees would thrive and grow to tower over the land, and the desolation of Smaug would again be reclaimed by life and vigour, but if he left, sailed west, then what fate would they or the land find with the descendants of these men and women?
Not for the first time he wondered at the fate of Arda if the elves and their immortal memory should leave for the west
With a shiver he pushed the thought away and springing lightly from his horse he led his company towards the throng. The welcome was warm, for himself and his companions as much as for the trees. They led their horses to a patch of good grazing and released them to rest in the spring sunshine before they set about unloading the young trees from the carts bearing them. With great care they carried them towards the settlement and into the shelter of the stone walls that had been built for the purpose. Singing songs of reassurance and welcome they set the saplings into their temporary beds spilling warmed earth around their roots and bringing buckets of water to the slake their thirst. Then the elves and men gathered around the trees and formally welcomed them to their new home, the songs painting pictures of the forest they would become and the joy of the land and its inhabitants at their coming.
As the sun sank towards the horizon they moved towards the river bank where the wine and food were laid out beside a newly lit fire, they added the provisions they had brought as the king's gift to the day and the feasting began.
It was a good day, one of those when he felt that he had never been away, that the fracture between himself and his people and his land had been shallow and easily mended. There were still some here who looked at him with uncertain eyes, whose voice and expressions were less cordial than once they would have been, but they were few enough for him to feel a little sad but not overwhelmed or despairing as he moved amongst the people delivering the messages his father had charged him with, the promise that the king would be here when these new young ones were first set in the ground in their home before the first frosts of Autumn. He listened with a smile as the elves and woodmen pledged themselves to the care of the returning forest.
'Yes, a good day,' he thought as he watched the elves dancing around the new trees, 'A joyful day for all. For the time will come when I will walk beneath these trees and their offspring and we will talk of this day and the hope it brought.'
He poured himself another glass of wine and settled back against the warmth of the stone wall smiling up at the elf that came to settle himself at his side. It was one of the guards from Dale who had family here and had leave to join them in the festivities. After a moment or two the other turned towards Legolas and spoke in a low voice.
"My Lord, I trust I do not speak out of turn and interrupt you thoughts. Gandalf the Grey has been in Dale and with the kings permission he talked for some time with one of our number in the garrison."
Legolas inclined his head with a small smile.
"So my father told me. There is no need to tread around the matter as if it were a bog that might swallow us. I know who he has spoken to and why. What would you tell me of the matter?"
"Only that the wizard spent much time and labour on writing a letter which he delivered to the raft elves for transport. Their headman came to see me before we left at dusk with a message to carry to the king or yourself."
Legolas turned to look him in the face but there was no sign that the messenger was concerned by his task.
"What is this message?" He asked calmly.
"Only this. The letter was sent upriver yesterday and should have arrived at the water gate. However Gandalf had left for the mountain when it was sent and his last words to the raftsman were that he plans to remain with Lord Dain but a few days and if the letter has not reached your father in safety then he must sent a swift messenger to catch him before he takes the road west again, for his business is such that he will not return through the forest."
Legolas ignored the quickening of his heart and kept all expression from his face. He inclined his head.
"I thank you. I will be sure the king knows of this on our return, though I expect the letter is already safely in his hand."
The other nodded and rose bowing slightly before he turned and made his way back towards his family
Legolas sighed and pushed away a sudden desire to turn for home. The contents of the letter would not change whether he learned of them tomorrow or the day after and if the news should prove bad he would be glad to have this nights' joy to remember amid the trouble that might be to come. Putting the matter from his mind he turned his attention back to the feast.
xxx
