Chapter 56: Stars, Her Only Memory
Limrond
Third Age 1277

The journey home was largely silent, save for the clap of hooves and the creak of wagon wheels ferrying the dead. Greenwood's king rode alone at the front of the procession, leading the fallen home to rest. A time or two a lord of Greenwood or Imladris would attempt to engage Thranduil with some words of kindness or concern. They were largely ignored and soon dismissed with little more than a nod or a raised hand. Thus they rode on to the doors of the mountain, where the horns sounded their return.

Upon arriving at his halls, Thranduil offered his people no speech, no words of comfort, for he had none. To their credit, or woe, the people of Greenwood looked to him not for solace. Indeed, most of them avoided addressing their king directly, for they, too, had no words to express their grief at the loss of their queen.

Thranduil had the families of the dead called forth while the bodies of the slain were laid out in the great hall. He wandered the periphery of the chamber as one by one the victim's bodies were claimed by their kin.

The air was heavy with grief, the sounds of mourning, both in sobs and in song. They echoed through Limrond's halls, a weight of loss not felt by Greenwood's people since that final battle with Sauron. The tone of the room was somber, yes, but there was something else in the air, a note of disbelief amongst the gathered crowd, a feeling that somehow the death before them could not be real.

The mournful tone of the hall was shattered at last by an incoherent scream. Angry voices began shouting over one another and all eyes turned to their source. At the far end of the room, Lady Gwendeth struggled to free herself from two of her kinsmen who restrained her arms. The ellyn could stay her form, but not her words, which she wielded like daggers, blades to rend an ellon's soul. Her target stood solemnly before her, his brother at his side. Elrohir laid a hand on Elladan's shoulder, urging him to withdraw. He was right to do so, for even at a distance Thranduil could feel the hatred swelling in the hearts of Daerel's kin.

Daerel's father knelt at his daughter's side, grieved at the sight of her ruined form. Lord Mithron had become a close friend and trusted advisor to Thranduil over time, as his daughter was only mere days before.

Mithron cradled Daerel's hand in his own, her charred, shriveled hand.

It struck Thranduil suddenly that he might never hold a daughter's hand in his own - charred or otherwise. A wave of anger washed over Thranduil at the thought, a rage given form by Gwendeth's venomous screams. He could barely make out her words, though they echoed through the halls and in his heart.

Gwendeth's fury stirred that of her brothers, the ellyn who restrained her arms. Thranduil did not know if their shared anger would be enough to move them, to see them lash out and strike down the young Lord of Imladris.

Thranduil did not know, and at that moment, he did not care.

A few days ago Thranduil would have interceded in such matters. Not today. He turned his back on the fitful scene and abandoned the great hall, leaving Elladan to his fate. He could bear no more of his people's pain and sorrow. He carried more than enough of his own.

Thranduil made his way to the healing ward to check on his son. Legolas was still asleep. Nithron told him the prince was doing well. Indeed, the bruise that had once darkened the side of Legolas' face was fading fast, but some part of Thranduil did not quite believe the healer. Despite Legolas's steady breath and restful form, a question occurred to him, one Thranduil had refused to entertain before now.

Would Legolas choose to wake - or would his spirit flee to Valinor?

There was no way to know until his waking, and once again Thranduil's sadness turned to anger. He could not lose his son, not with Beleth gone and Caladhel's fate unknown.

Thranduil reached out and took his son's hand. He felt the boy's steady pulse beneath his fingers. It was strong, stronger than it had been when Legolas first arrived in the healing ward. It allayed Thranduil's fears some, but did not extinguish them entirely. He squeezed the boy's hand in hopes of a like response, but received none. Thranduil did not know what that meant, if it meant anything at all. He sat at his son's side for some time, studying his face and form, committing every detail to memory as he had on the very day his son was born.

When Thranduil was assured his presence in the healing ward would not speed his son's recovery, he retired to his rooms. His bath was already drawn, a testament to Galion's unwavering attention. Despite the marks of ash and death upon him, Thranduil was in no hurry to reach the warm water, for his soul considered the bath a comfort he did not deserve. He discarded his armor, dropping each piece to the floor as he unfastened the buckles. They trailed behind him in an untidy line across the threshold of the balcony.

Thranduil had nearly reached the far side of the room when a flicker of light drew his gaze. Not a second before, Thranduil had crossed the empty expanse, where now a form stood, lit by the light of the stars.

Thranduil felt her gaze upon him before he turned. It was a sensation sharper than sight. She was there, by her power, and yet she was not. Thranduil could imagine only one cause for her to visit him in such a form. His voice caught in his throat when his eyes finally met hers. He could not speak for a time, until he could, the truth he knew had brought her here before him.

"You have seen her?"

"Yes," she answered.

"And?" Thranduil pressed, angrily, for he had no patience for the apparition.

The Lady's gaze faltered, and from those ancient eyes, so often unreadable, a single tear fell. "She is gone," Galadriel said.

Thranduil stared at her in stunned silence. He did not believe it. He could not. "You are wrong."

Galadriel captured Thranduil's gaze, and once held, she would not relinquish it. "I saw her death with my own eyes."

The weight of truth in the Lady's eyes wore Thranduil down, but still his heart struggled against it. "Why take her, then? Why not kill her on the road with the others?"

"She was not killed by orcs," said Galadriel. "She took her own life."

This Thranduil could not believe. Caladhel would not abandon their son, he was certain of that, if nothing else. Indeed, Thranduil would have dismissed the notion entirely, if not for knowledge of Galadriel's mirror, in which he had once glimpsed a vision of their son.

At length Thranduil gave voice to these doubts, as much as he could. "How? Why?"

Galadriel shuddered at the memory, as she had when first she witnessed the scene. "She drove a blade into her heart," she said at last.

"Buy why," he repeated. "She knew I would come for her. What else did you see?"

Galadriel shut her eyes against his question, and in that small gesture, Thranduil was certain there was more.

"It does not matter now," she answered.

"Tell me what you have seen!" Thranduil roared. He had no patience for Galadriel's evasions. He would not allow her spirit to slink back to the forests of Lórien without an answer.

Galadriel's eyes snapped opened and once again she found his. Their gazes locked in a battle of wills… and wondering. Without words Galadriel asked him if he truly wished to know the answer, and in immovable silence he demanded from her the truth. And so at last she gave him his answer, a truth more terrible than Thranduil's imagining could have conjured.

"I saw you fall into Darkness," said Galadriel. "Your wrath brought all our houses to ruin."

Thranduil said nothing, could say nothing in return. He stared at the Lady in silence, but not quite in disbelief. On the long ride from Caradhras he could feel the rage deep inside changing into something else. It felt not like the heat of any flame, nor even the blistering cold, it felt hollow, formless, an infinite abyss. Thranduil could sense even now that if he were to embrace that emptiness there would be no coming back. It was this pit in his heart Galadriel had seen, come to swallow him whole.

The idea of it, still, was too much for Thranduil to conceive, that by his own actions he might bring about the ruin of all. It was then that Galadriel interrupted Thranduil's harried thoughts to answer his second question, the why.

"Caladhel knew the dark powers would use her to destroy you," Galadriel continued. "By taking her own life, she changed that course. She saved you from that fate."

Thranduil knew Caladhel well enough to know she would make such a choice, to see it as she would. All the same, he hated her for loving him so much, for not allowing him the chance to save her. He would gladly have traded his soul for hers. Her actions robbed him of his hope, and left him with nothing.

Thranduil's mind raged. He could not tame his anger and he vented it all upon the Lady before him. "You claim you saw all of this, but you could not see it coming? Or perhaps you did, and you chose to let her die."

"No," Galadriel swore to him. "The mirror shows only what it wills."

The Lady's protests failed to appease him. Quite the opposite, they fanned Thranduil's rage. "What use then is your mirror - or your ring? What use is your power if you cannot protect those you love?"

Galadriel shuddered before the force of Thranduil's ire, but she said nothing, for there was nothing she could say, no answer to appease him, no word that would bring Caladhel back from the grave. Galadriel knew it, and Thranduil knew it, too.

Thranduil turned away from the phantom's gaze. He had no more use for her and nothing but one final word. "Depart these lands and never return. I would not see you again before the breaking of the world."

No sooner had he spoken than the Lady vanished, her presence retreating beyond the borders of his land. He was grateful to feel her presence depart, grateful for his solitude, for he was granted none for the many days and nights he had spent riding with his warriors. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. He only exhaled when he felt the need to breathe. He repeated the practice a dozen times in a vain hope that doing so might calm him.

If the practice succeeded, the effect was only temporary, for when he opened his eyes they fell upon a statue adorning the threshold of the balcony. It bore the likeness of Caladhel, her countenance joyful, for she gazed down upon an infant Legolas cradled in her arms. Thranduil had the sculpture commissioned for her, so she would never forget those days of bliss. The whole of his body trembled as he stared at the marble form.

Before Thranduil had the good sense to walk away, he ripped the statue from its dais, casting it forcefully to the floor. There it shattered into a hundred pieces, as his heart had only moments before.


A knock on the door interrupted the council meeting.

Lord Feren shifted his attention from the maps he and the others were studying, to the door. He had hoped their king would join them this morning, but Thranduil would not have bothered to knock.

Feren nodded to one of his lieutenants who crossed the room to answer door. Upon opening it, Feren spied Cendil once again standing upon the threshold. He had told the young warden to wave away anyone who wished to intrude on the Lord's council, but this was the third such interruption the warden had made in so many hours. For this reason, and others, Feren was beginning to believe Cendil was not so very bright.

"I told you, Cendil, no more interruptions," was Feren's rebuke.

The warden flushed red, clearly embarrassed for having interrupted his superiors yet again. "Pardon, my lord. I did not wish to… but, I thought..."

A hand fell on Cendil's shoulder, and he was moved aside by the cause of his intrusion. Haldir of Lórien stepped through the doorway, making his presence known.

"Haldir!" Haldor waved the captain in to join them. "Please come in."

All eyes turned to Haldir, who was not altogether unexpected, given the messengers that had been dispatched to the southern realm. Haldor gestured for him to join he and Glorfindel where they had a map laid out upon the center table.

"Two of our scouts have just reported in," said Haldor, in an attempt to bring Haldir up to speed. "We think we know where they took the Queen, but we do not know their numbers. We have deployed more scouts to surveil the area."

Here Haldir lifted a hand to halt the ellon's accounting before it continued any further. "There is no need for further surveillance. It is over."

Haldor looked to Feren and the other gathered lords before he spoke again. "What are you saying?"

There was a long pause in which Haldir seemed to wage an inner battle of his own. "Your queen is dead," he said at last.

A wave of gasps and whispers spread around the room, engulfing the whole of the council chamber.

Lord Glorfindel called for silence, a command, surprisingly, obeyed by all. Once the assembled lords were quieted, he turned his attention to Haldir. "How do you know this?"

"Lady Galadriel saw it in her mirror," Haldir answered.

This, it seemed, was enough proof for the lords of Imladris, who in near unison laid their hands on their hearts in silent tribute to the former Lady of Lórien.

The Greenwood elves, however, were not so easily convinced of this news. "Are you certain of this?" Feren asked.

Haldir nodded, "As certain as one can be of anything in this world."

Haldor sent up a silent prayer for Caladhel before his thoughts turned to the king. "Does our king know of this?" he asked, for he was certain Haldir would not share this news with them before Thranduil was told.

Haldir nodded. "He will have learned of it by now."

With this, the greater lords of Greenwood postponed mourning for swift action. Feren flew to the door, and upon opening it, called out to the wardens guarding the hall. Cendil was the first to step forth.

"Have you seen the King this morning?" Feren asked.

"No, my lord," Cendil replied somewhat confusedly.

"I will check his rooms," said Haldor, and the captain vanished through the door without another word.

The remainder of Greenwood's captains and councilors departed after him, each in search of their king.

"What do you fear he will do?" Glorfindel asked Feren, for he sensed the depth of concern born by Greenwood's lords.

"I do not know," Feren admitted, "and I fear to find out."

"Where is Prince Legolas?" Haldir asked, for he had come not only to bear the news of the queen, but to bring word of her son back to his Lord and Lady.

"He remains in the infirmary," said Feren. "I can show you the way."


Haldir sat himself on the edge of Legolas' cot. The boy had grown much since last Haldir saw him, ten years before. Caladhel had said then that Legolas would grow to resemble his father, but Haldir did not see it. But for his coloring, he was Caladhel's son, and always would be in Haldir's heart.

Nithron told Haldir before he sat down that he had lifted the last of the healing enchantments. Legolas could wake at any time. The healer had called for the king to attend his son, but Thranduil was nowhere to be found. Haldir, worried as he was for those whom Caladhel loved, chose to stay at her son's side, lest he wake alone.

Haldir had been seated at the boy's bedside for a few hours when suddenly Legolas stirred. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked a few times, taking his bearings. He scanned Haldir's visage, then the room's walls, before returning his gaze to his unlikely companion.

"Haldir?" Legolas asked, unsure whether his eyes deceived him.

Haldir nodded.

"Is this a dream?" Legolas asked.

"No," said Haldir. "I am here."

Legolas' attention returned to the walls and the high ceiling of the ward. He knew these walls. "I am home," said Legolas.

"You are," Haldir confirmed.

"How?"

Haldir paused, unsure how best to answer. He decided the simplest, most direct response was best. "Roewen brought you back."

Legolas paused in his questioning, his mind struggling to recall its most recent happenings. "Lord Iordor pushed me off my horse. I do not recall anything after."

"There was an orc attack on the road," Haldir explained cautiously, for he did not wish to offer more than the boy asked for. "He pushed you so you would not be struck by arrows."

Legolas took this news well, or so it seemed. His gaze drifted off to the far wall. For a moment, Haldir wondered if the boy had fallen back into reverie, but the young elf's mind was not so peaceful as that. In those few moments of silence he had worked out something, a calculation, certain in his mind. He gave voice to it before Haldir had the chance to ready himself for the blow.

"Is my mother dead?" Legolas asked.

Haldir did not know what to say. It had not been easy to tell the lords of Greenwood of their queen's fate. It was no easier to tell Legolas of his mother. But by the look in his eyes, the boy knew the answer already. Why else would Haldir be in Limrond, seated at his bedside, instead of his mother and father?

"Yes," Haldir admitted, when he could remain silent no more.

Legolas drew in an unsteady breath, but much to Haldir's amazement, he allowed only a single tear to fall, and that he wiped hastily away. Instead he found another point of focus. "Where is Roewen? I want to talk to her."

Haldir shook his head. He had learned of the boy's rescue and all that followed from Feren. He was most shocked of all to learn of Roewen's fate. He considered her both a friend and a highly respected warrior.

"Your father has banished Roewen from Limrond," Haldir explained.

"Where is father?" Legolas asked.

At that moment, Haldir wished the boy had remained asleep a few more hours, so that his father might have been there for him when he woke. Haldir had no answer for Legolas, no one did, for the king had disappeared from Limrond the very hour Haldir arrived at the gate.

Haldir offered the young prince what little comfort he could. "Your father needs some time alone with his grief. When he is ready, he will come see you."

Haldir was saved from saying more by the arrival of the healer.

"Prince Legolas, so good to see you awake." Nithron turned to Haldir and with a most polite dismissal, shooed him out the door. "If you will excuse us, I need to have a look at our prince."

"Of course," Haldir said, but before he departed he caught Legolas' gaze. "I will return later."


After a few days and no small amount of grousing, Nithron permitted Legolas to return to his own bedchamber for rest. He did so only under the condition that he stay off his feet and allowed others to check on him every few hours. Legolas was not at want for company, indeed, he would have preferred more time alone, but the lords and ladies of Greenwood would not allow it. There was always someone bringing him tea, or a book to read. Haldir would sit with him late into the night, all the while saying nothing. Legolas liked his company best, for he made no attempt to distract Legolas from his thoughts, as the others did. He was merely a presence, reading quietly by candlelight.

On the fourth day since he woke, Legolas was at his wit's end. His confinement to bed was beginning to wear on him. His body felt fine, but for his head, which still troubled him mildly. But certainly he was well enough to leave his quarters. He had told Nithron so that very day, but the healer would not hear of it and warned him if he failed to rest, he would once again be confined to the infirmary.

The reprimand made Legolas uncharacteristically petulant. He was rude to the nurses who visited him and to his father's lords who came to call. None seemed to notice, or if they did, they accepted his ill mood as a matter of circumstance and took no offense.

Shortly after midday Galion came to collect what remained of his meal, and when he departed, Legolas found himself alone for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He was glad to be out from under watchful eyes. They had prevented him from stealing away into his parent's apartment which adjoined his own. Everyone told him his father had left the palace, but Legolas did not entirely believe them. He would see for himself.

Legolas slipped out of bed and into his quietest pair of shoes. He was out the door and down the hall that connected his room to his parent's parlor. The door had no lock and he opened it a crack to peek inside the room. There was no one inside, and no sign anything was amiss. He tip-toed through the room and on towards his father's chamber. Upon reaching this door, he did knock.

"Father?" he called.

When at length he received no answer Legolas opened his father's door and entered his private sitting room. It was mostly in order, except for the armor left discarded on the floor. Legolas found the sight odd, given how often his father admonished him for leaving his possessions lying about. Legolas reached down to pick up one of his father's vambraces, but was distracted by the chunk of marble resting by its side. Legolas picked up the stone and noted the rest scattered before the balcony. The largest pieces lay at the foot of the dais. One of them bore the right half of his mother's face. The left side had been shattered.

Legolas picked through the rubble and among the pieces found himself, or at least, his likeness as he had been not so long ago. The baby was wrapped in a blanket, still cradled by his mother's hands.

"Prince Legolas."

Legolas jumped at the sound of his own name. He had not heard the warrior approaching behind him.

"Haldir."

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Haldir asked.

Legolas was pleased at the lack of disapproval in Haldir's tone. He was merely concerned.

"I am not tired," said Legolas.

Haldir nodded and his gaze fell upon the broken statue. "What is this?"

"It was a sculpture of mother holding me when I was a baby."

"Did you do this?" Haldir asked with concern.

"No," said Legolas. "Father did it." Legolas turned the stone infant over in his hands before handing the piece to Haldir. "Father banished Roewen because she saved me. He wishes Roewen had saved mother instead. I wish it, too."

Haldir was disturbed by how calmly and dispassionately Legolas professed this belief. He was not certain what he could or should say in response, so he said what he knew for certain. "It would not have mattered if Roewen saved your mother. If you had died in the attack, your mother would have followed you."

Legolas did not understand him. "Followed me?"

"She would have died from grief," Haldir explained, "or sailed to Valinor. Your father would have lost you both."

"How do you know what mother would do?" Legolas asked.

"I have known your mother since we were children. I know her as I know myself." He looked down at the marble baby in his hands, and the arms still enfolding him. "She dreamed of you for a thousand years before she held you in her arms. She could not have remained in Middle-earth without you." He passed the stone back to Legolas, and the boy held it a little tighter in his grasp.

Haldir would have said more but the pair were interrupted by another intruder. A warden of Greenwood stood at the door.

"Sir, we are nearly prepared," said Cendil.

"I am coming," Haldir waved the warden away.

"Where are you going?" Legolas asked.

"Your father has not returned to Limrond for four days. Some of his lords wish to search for him."

"They will not find him," said Legolas.

"Why do you say that?"

Legolas merely shrugged.

"Do you know where to find him?" Haldir asked.

Legolas did not wish to divulge his father's secret place, but he would not lie to Haldir. "I know a place to look, but if he is there, he wants to be alone."

Haldir could sense the boy did not wish to betray his father's secrets, but it seemed to Haldir, and to many others, that Thranduil's well being would not benefit from further solitude. "I think your father has been alone long enough. Will you help me find him?"

Legolas weighed his options. He could say no and go back to bed, or, he could help find his father. He felt a tinge of dread at both options, but one a mite more than the other.


Haldir was wise enough to tell the healer that Legolas would be joining him on a short journey rather than asking the healer for permission. Nithron made only the slightest fuss. In truth, the boy was well healed, but the young healer did not wish to dishonor Daerel's memory by providing anything less than the most excellent care for their Prince. He warned the two about riding slowly and packed an assortment of herbs should Legolas' head give him any pain or he become dizzy. Haldir agreed to keep a close watch on the boy. Legolas would not tell Haldir where they were headed, but assured him it was only a couple hours ride from the city. They headed off on a pair of deer, Haldir following after the youth.

Haldir heard the rushing of the water long before they reached the river's edge. They followed the water for a few miles to a span of raging rapids. It was there, standing at the edge of a rock cliff, that Haldir spied Greenwood's king. He stood as a statue staring out across the raging river. Haldir looked to Legolas, whose expression grew nervous at the sight of his father.

"You can return to Limrond, if you wish," said Haldir.

Legolas shook his head. "I should go first. In case he is mad I showed you this place."

Without another word the prince slid off his mount and headed for the rock cliff. Haldir followed suit. He thought it best not to argue with the boy for he knew better than Haldir what this spot meant to Thranduil. They reached the summit without incident and Haldir was certain Thranduil heard them approach, but when they emerged from the wood, the king remained with his back to them, facing the water.

Legolas stepped forward onto the stone. "Father?"

Thranduil exhaled deeply before he answered. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"None knew where to find you," Legolas explained.

"None but my son."

Legolas did not know what to say, but Haldir spared him the need for a response.

"Legolas, may I speak with your father alone for a minute?" Haldir asked.

Here Thranduil finally turned away from the river to acknowledge his guests. He looked at Haldir for a long moment before turning his gaze to his son. "Go," he told Legolas.

Legolas retreated back to the woods, far enough not to be seen but not quite so far that he could not hear what words were spoken.

Both ellyn waited for Legolas to retreat as far as he would. When his footsteps ceased, Haldir stepped forward. "Everyone in Limrond is looking for you," he said.

But Thranduil's attention was not on Haldir. It remained on his son. "If I could have but one wish for him, it would be that he never knows love so long as he dwells on this shore. Middle-earth is no place for it."

Haldir understood Thranduil's want, but not even the Valar could control the fate of elven hearts. Though Haldir would not be surprised if Thranduil made such an attempt where his son was concerned.

"She was the only thing in Arda I ever wanted," Thranduil continued, "and I feared her more than any demon flame. I feared she would find me unworthy. In over a thousand years that fear never left me."

"You proved yourself more than worthy in Caladhel's eyes," said Haldir. "You know that."

"I still remember the marks my fingers left upon our first meeting. It had not been my intent to harm her, but in my anger I forgot my own strength. She bruised so easily. But the orcs… it would have been their want to cause her pain, to leave their marks upon her..."

"Do not think of it," Haldir commanded, despite what little authority he had to direct Thranduil's mind.

"I can think of nothing else," Thranduil said. "I should never have loved her. I should have let her go. She would have been safe with you in Lórien."

Haldir shook his head. He knew it was no use to dwell on might have beens. "You cannot know that for certain."

"I know she is gone from this world and my soul wishes to join her." Thranduil took one step closer to the edge of the cliff, and for one terrible moment Haldir feared the king would not stop before he fell.

"Caladhel would have you hold onto hope," Haldir implored him. "You know that."

"For what purpose?" Thranduil asked.

"For your son," said Haldir, stating the obvious. "Would you rather have lost them both?" It was only after he spoke this question that Haldir thought better of it, for he did not know Thranduil's answer, but was certain Legolas was close enough to hear it spoken.

Thranduil shut his eyes against Haldir's question and the memory of an old jest. "I would rather have held them captive for all time." If only he had been more selfish. If only he had never let them go.

"These thoughts will not bring her back," said Haldir.

"I know it."

"Legolas needs you now. The people of Greenwood need you."

"I know that, too."

"Will you come, then?" Haldir implored. "Your people are worried about you."

Thranduil was silent for some time before he drew in a deep breath and exhaled with force. He shook his head ever so slightly. "No. I will never return to those halls."

"Then what shall I tell your lords?" Haldir asked.

"Tell them Lord Vehiron will know where to find me."

Haldir was confused by Thranduil's answer but he agreed with a nod of his head.

"Send my son to me before you go," Thranduil added, dismissing him.

Haldir nodded again, and farewelled Greenwood's king with a bow, which Thranduil returned.

Moments after Haldir vanished into the wood, Legolas emerged, less sure than he was upon his first arrival. "Father?"

This time Thranduil took care to look his son up and down. "How is your head?" he asked.

Legolas raised a hand to the bandage on his temple. "Much better. It still aches, but only slightly." His father nodded at his answer and Legolas grew nervous under the intense weight of his gaze.

"I feared you might not wake," Thranduil admitted, "or that you would choose not to. It is not often I am glad to be wrong."

With these simple words a burden Legolas had carried for many days dissolved into mist. His spirit felt lighter and his head did not hurt so much anymore. The corners of Legolas' mouth curled upward and a tear escaped and fell away across his cheek, despite his fervent wish to remain strong in his father's eyes.

"Can we go home now?" Legolas asked.

Thranduil shook his head. "I cannot return to Limrond."

Legolas could not bear to hear such news. He had no well of strength to fight the pain of it. Another tear fell away, and another. He shut his eyes in a vain attempt to stem the flood. "Where will you go?"

Thranduil was at his son's side in an instant. He cradled the boy's face in his hands and wiped away his tears. "Where will we go," said Thranduil.

We. Legolas opened his eyes to find his father studying him with great concern. He hated to think he had caused his father more pain or misunderstood his meaning so. "Where will we go?" he corrected his former question.

"To our new home in the north of Greenwood," Thranduil explained.

"What home?" Legolas asked.

"The city I was building for you. It is not yet complete. I had planned to unveil it upon your fiftieth year."

This was a great surprise to Legolas, for he had heard no hint or whisper of such a great project underway in their kingdom. His father had to have gone to great lengths to keep it secret. "Did mother know?"

Thranduil's eyes grew somber at his son's question. "No. I meant to surprise you both."

"Father." I do not want to go.

Those were the first words that sprang into Legolas' mind. How could he leave Limrond, where all of the memories of his mother dwelled? How could he leave her behind? From the bottom of his soul Legolas wanted to protest his father's decision, but he already knew his father's reply. He held it in his memory of the marble statue shattered on the floor.

Desperate for something, anything to cling to, Legolas asked for the one thing he believed his father would not deny him. "Can we take mother's stars with us? I do not want to leave them behind. We can return them to her someday, when we sail to Valinor."

Thranduil stared into the pleading eyes of his son. He was almost full grown but in that moment Thranduil saw the small child stretched out on the floor of the great hall counting the glittering stones.

Mother's stars, he called them.

Thranduil nodded. "Lord Vehiron will see to it. Now, come. It will take many days to journey through the wood."

"We are leaving now?" Legolas had not expected their departure to be so secret or so sudden. He had nothing but the clothes on his back and a little pack of supplies that Nithron provided for him.

"Yes, now. There is nothing for us in Limrond, only memory."

~Fin~