Thranduil… my love, you have forgotten me…
Thranduil heard her voice, somewhere far in the distance, across the void. He denied it. He tried to turn away.
Help me…
Thranduil woke with a gasp and a jolt so violent, it frightened the servant who hovered over him. She jumped at his sudden movement, but hurried to his bedside, moving to push him back down.
"Please, milord, you must rest," she bade him. He blinked, trying to focus on her face. She glanced off to her side and the sound of feet pattering across the floor seemed louder than it should. But when the servant's blurry image was replaced with something more familiar, Thranduil had to blink again.
Finally, his vision cleared, and he felt comforted to find Legolas peering down at him as he lay prone in bed. "Legolas…" he gasped softly, his hand weakly grasping out to his side. "My son…"
Legolas grasped his father's hand, squeezing it in his hands, his brow creasing with emotion and with need.
Thranduil forgot who he was, but only momentarily. As his senses cleared, his expression hardened as he pulled his hand away, his usual dour, disapproving expression returning.
"Where am I?" he demanded sternly, as he turned his head away from his son to gaze around the healing room.
"You are in Caras Galadhon," Legolas responded, wincing when that brought a harsh look of disapproval from his father.
"Then you went against my wishes," Thranduil scolded, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized his son. "How many elves did you sacrifice to bring me here?"
Legolas sat back from the bed, his shoulders slumping. "You were dying," he protested, running a hand through the length of his silky blonde hair. It hung loose at the moment, rather than pulled back in a tight ponytail like it usually was, and Thranduil saw her so clearly in his son. "Lady Galadriel could save you. Was I to do nothing?"
"You were to keep our people behind the safety of our halls at all costs," Thranduil berated. He saw Legolas flinch, saw the emotion behind his son's eyes.
Those eyes looked so much like so many Thranduil had lost. Not just his beloved wife, but his own father. The father he had lost so many thousands of years ago in the dead marshes. It was that loss that taught Thranduil that Middle Earth was simply too dangerous.
He knew his words stung Legolas. The way his son glanced away as he continued to berate him, it would have hurt Thranduil if he hadn't learned to keep his emotions so carefully behind that wall of dour and stoicism.
"You talk of costs," Legolas spoke up, turning to narrow his gaze at his father. "Yet you shut yourself off, just as you shut your people from the world. You think you are protecting them from the dangers of this world, yet you are content to watch the world burn around you."
If Legolas only knew how true those words were. And somewhere, deep inside the king, those words hit home. They struck upon the deepest recesses of that buried emotion. Legolas stood up from his chair, stepping backwards.
"I do not regret my actions," his son proclaimed, not bothering to hide the bite from his voice. "And those who died, they died for you, for their king. Maybe one day you will remember what that means."
With that, Legolas stormed out of the room, leaving the king alone. The sting of the heated words exchanged sank in. Even as he lay on his sickbed, watching as his son turned his back and retreated, Thranduil fought his inner struggle, trying to keep that wall around his heart from falling under the weight of hurtful words.
Keeping Legolas always on the defense, keeping him at a distance, Thranduil had grown so used to it, he wasn't even sure when it had begun.
"It is a sad thing when father and son cannot speak as father and son," came a soft voice, and Thranduil turned his head to find Galadriel sitting on the other side of his bed, further from his bedside, had she been there the entire time? Or had her entrance been so silent that he failed to notice it?
Thranduil's cheeks burned pink with embarrassment. "It is a private matter, milady," he began, his tone losing a little of its harshness. After all, most would carefully consider how they spoke to the lady of Lothlorien.
"Most matters of family are," Galadriel agreed. "They are often like a river pressing against a dam with ever mounting pressure. But eventually, that dam breaks and the resulting chaos is displayed for all to see."
Thranduil thinned his lips, considering his words as he gazed up at Galadriel. When he hesitated to respond, when he seemed to stumble upon his words, the beautiful elf only smiled knowingly.
"I would wish to be back in my kingdom as soon as possible," Thranduil explained, his tone even. "I do not wish to burden you with my care any longer than necessary."
"Is that truly what you desire?" Galadriel asked simply. "Is it simply worth not knowing? Does the king of Mirkwood hide behind his halls because he is afraid?"
"I do not fear orcs or their evil," Thranduil protested quickly, feeling offended and defensive that she would have the audacity to imply that he was some sort of coward. He had faced his share of battle, after all.
"There are other fears," Galadriel explained simply, not reacting at all to his tone of voice. "Even the bravest of warriors can face a battle. But to face the unknown, to ask what is in your heart and hear the answers. To open up to those around you and allow yourself to be cared for, that is a kind of courage that even the bravest run from."
Thranduil frowned as he felt exposed. It was as if she had scanned his deepest thoughts and brought them up from the depth. And he didn't like it. He knew Galadriel's wisdom was something that shouldn't be taken lightly. Even compared to elves, she was ancient, older than time itself. As the child of the legendary Finarfin, her eyes had seen far more than Thranduil could have ever hoped, despite his own ancient origins.
"What you see in your dreams," Galadriel spoke aloud, bringing Thranduil back to the present. "I have seen them. Ignore them at your own peril, King Thranduil."
Thranduil swallowed hard. "What of my dreams?" he protested.
"The voice that calls to you from the north, it also calls to Legolas," Galadriel explained. "A voice that draws his gaze to the one mountain where a memory he does not know lies. To Gundabad."
Thranduil's eyes widened in terror as Galadriel revealed his son's intentions. Did she choose to tell him in order to warn him?
"I will not allow him to venture to that accursed place," Thranduil said with a sneer. He felt angry that Legolas would dare to plot such a venture, and more than that, he felt terror. If Legolas went to that mountain, he would surely perish, and Thranduil refused to allow that.
"You can lose your son to more than just death," Galadriel warned. "I fear he slips further and further away from your grasp, and with him, your hopes and your memories. Memories of the one you lost."
"With my deepest respects, it is not your concern, Milady," Thranduil said slowly, though grated teeth as he tried to maintain his composure, to deny the feelings that simmered beneath his stoic facade.
"I fear Gundabad is only one part of a bigger horror," Galadriel continued, and Thranduil tuned into her words as they took on a somewhat prophetic tone. "One that will have consequences not only for you and for Legolas, but for all of Middle Earth and beyond. The dark elves that travel with you are part of this puzzle. Something is stirring, its identity hidden from my sight. Will you choose to stand with the rest of Middle Earth, King Thranduil?"
Thranduil scoffed. "Like my father did? Look what it got him. Look what meddling in the affairs of the world cost him."
"You are not Oropher," Galadriel reminded him. "And Legolas is not her. I cannot give you all the answers, nor can I advise you on your course of action. All I can say is that if you have the courage to face the pain of your past, you can face the present and the future. I warn you to ignore such things at your peril."
Thranduil shook his head stubbornly, but even as he did, Galadriel's words sunk in. They seeped into his consciousness; they touched into his soul. He could lose Legolas. He was losing Legolas. The king had been burdened with the memory of his past losses, so consumed with keeping them at bay that he was slowly losing the last thing of value in his closed off, self-serving world. That is the one loss that would certainly break the king of the woodland realm.
"Your condition was grave," Galadriel explained as she rose to her feet. "If Legolas had not gotten you to me, it is certain that you would not have survived. I have healed you temporarily, but I fear your curse will return."
"My curse?" Thranduil questioned.
"I do not know its origins," Galadriel replied. "But I do know that it is tied to your dreams. And Legolas's."
So someone or something had cursed them both. If he returned to his realm, Thranduil truly did run the risk of losing not only himself, but Legolas. He could only scoff at the irony as he glanced up to notice Galadriel had silently slipped away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.