Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's creations, I just like to play in Middle Earth.
Summary: In the aftermath of a failed mission, Legolas returns to the stronghold and must carry on as a captain, a prince, and a son. A story about finding hope and faith in the face of despair.
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter 1, especially to the two guests to whom I could not write individual replies! Without further delay, here's chapter 2.
Chapter 2
"She fought bravely. Without her, more lives would have been lost. The kingdom and I mourn with you, though I do not presume to imagine your pain," Legolas hesitated, eyes flicking down for a moment before continuing, "I—I am sorry I could not save her."
The fallen warrior's father kept his head bowed, but Legolas could still see the tears on his face. The mother's grief was beyond tears. She stared at Legolas with a haunted, absent expression.
"Ernil nin, we do not blame you for what has happened. The fault lies with the dark creatures of this world and no one else," the childless mother paused, "We thank you for your visit. We know there are many demands on your time."
Legolas quickly shook his head, "My lady, please, do not think of it, I wish only that I could do something more for you."
She looked to her husband, but he refused to look up. He took a breath that turned into a sob halfway through.
Legolas bit his lip and lowered his eyes. How he wished he could have protected their child. How he wished he could protect all the elves of the realm.
"We thank you for bringing her body back. We know this is not always possible."
The prince managed to hide his flinch, but only just. This was not his first visit of this sort to this family. Less than twenty years ago he sat at this same table and brought them news of the death of their son. That time, he had not been able to return the body for a proper funeral. That time, their daughter had been here too. She was younger than her brother had been, and was already training to be a warrior. She had hoped to serve by her brother's side once she finished her training. Her grief over his death manifested itself as anger, not at Legolas, but at the darkness invading their home. She had redoubled her efforts. She had been strong, capable, and devoted to the realm's cause. Now she too was gone.
Legolas brought her parents news of her death and her body, and they thanked him. This would be his last visit to this couple, they had no more children to give.
A soft knock sounded at the door and Galathil stepped inside, his head low and his voice soft, "My lord, I apologize for interrupting, but we must go, the council meeting—"
"Can wait," Legolas stopped him without looking away from the grieving parents.
"No, ernil nin," the elleth said, "Please, go. We will—we will be alright. Please, go back to the palace, continue this war. Win it. Make it so that our children's lives were not given to a failed cause."
Legolas nodded his head. He stood, and bowed to them both, placing his hand over his heart. He spoke to them without rising, "If you want for anything, you have but to ask. The people of our realm stand in your debt. We cannot repay it, but please do not hesitate to ask for help."
The elleth tried to smile at him, but could not quite manage it. The ellon still did not look up. Legolas left their home in silence, there was nothing more to say.
Before the year was up, the father would sail for Valinor, his restless soul no longer able to find peace in the darkness of Mirkwood nor anywhere in Arda. The mother would stay. She would train to become a healer and she would fight to protect the children of others. More than once, she would treat Legolas' wounds. She would care for all of her patients as though they were her own children.
Galathil walked next to Legolas as they returned to the palace. The journey home had taken longer than it should have and their arrival had caused quite a commotion in the palace. Healers had been summoned and initial notifications had been made to the Council. The Council was forced to wait for a full report as Legolas had gone immediately to speak with the families of the fallen—a task he had undertaken far too often of late and one that left him emotionally drained. It had taken longer than he had expected, but he refused to rush any of the visits, and now he was late for the Council meeting that had been scheduled after their return. Legolas knew the king would not be pleased at his tardiness, but would understand. Legolas expected a stern look when he arrived and nothing further.
The council undoubtedly already knew what had happened. They would need the details from him, but his absence would not prevent them from getting on with their work. He hoped they had done just that; he did not look forward to these meetings on the best of days, and today was not the best of days. He absently rested his hand on his side, the wound hidden beneath his tunic burning with every move.
"Legolas, perhaps I should attend the council meeting," Galathil did not miss the visible sign of his friend's pain.
Legolas barked out a laugh, "Be careful, Galathil, I might take you up on that."
"I mean it, I would go."
He did mean it and Legolas knew it. Galathil was perfectly capable of handling the report and had on previous occasions when Legolas was either absent from the palace on a patrol or confined to the healing wards with an injury. An argument could even be made that Galathil was better equipped to give the report today than Legolas. After all, Galathil had at least been conscious for the entire battle. But this battle would be a disappointment to the Council, and the meeting would likely not go well for whoever represented the warriors there. Legolas would not send his friend into that situation without need. Legolas was more than just a captain, he was the prince, and duty demanded his attendance. Not to mention his father, who also demanded his attendance.
"I know, my friend, but we have business to attend to besides the council meeting."
"The assignments?"
"Aye," Legolas agreed.
Galathil frowned, "It will be difficult to fill the patrols until the wounded from this battle have recovered."
Legolas sighed, "I know. And three of the dead often led patrols, their roles will not be easily filled."
"We may need to split leadership in some of the existing patrols. Perhaps some of the new novices could be assigned patrols in the safer areas?"
"I agree that leadership roles will need to be reevaluated, but I do not wish to rush into sending the novices out on patrol. We must consider all options before we take that route."
Galathil nodded his agreement, "I will update the rosters and see what I can do with the assignments."
"No, just work on the rosters. You need rest too and the assignments can wait a day if I can't get to them this evening."
Galathil was about to protest, but Legolas cut him off, "You have been going even longer than I, Galathil. The assignments can wait, the rest of the captains will need to look at them and that cannot be done until tomorrow anyway."
"Alright, but you must promise to rest as well. If I find you still working tomorrow morning, I'll…" Galathil trailed off, trying to think of a suitable threat.
"Do something very terrible, I'm sure," Legolas offered with a wry smile, "I will rest, you have my word."
Galathil clapped him on the back, "Good luck."
"Thank you," Legolas replied as they parted ways, Galathil going to the Captain's Hall and Legolas going to the palace.
"If they had not been there, more ground would have been lost! Even now, the Forest Road may have been under the shadow."
"I care not for an old dwarf road."
"Whether or not you care for it, it is dangerously close to free villages. Do you care for those?"
"The mountains will protect them."
"Not to the east and west! We can use the landscape to our advantage, but our warriors protect those villages and the elves in them, not mountains! And how far will we let this shadow encroach upon our lands? Will you trust the river to protect us when the orcs encroach upon our stronghold?"
Legolas paused outside of the King's Council Chamber. They were even louder than usual today. Valar, he did not want to do this. What he wanted was to go to his room and sleep for a week. Between the battle, the injury, and speaking to the families of the dead, he was exhausted. He did not care for the politics of war. As a captain and an archer, he knew he contributed valuable information to these deliberations and aided in decision-making, but he did not want to hear arguments about how much an elven life was worth today. A headache was already building between his temples and this was sure to make it worse.
The soldier standing guard at the door watched Legolas with concern, "My prince, are you well?"
Legolas offered him a half smile. "Aye, but I'm not sure how long that will last," he replied with a meaningful glance toward the chamber, "Probably best to get this over with though."
The soldier nodded with a slight smile and opened the door for Legolas. Instantly, Legolas straightened and schooled his features into an impassive mask. He was a warrior, a captain, and the prince of this realm, he would not return to the council slouched and defeated. He moved purposefully into the room, taking his place at his father's right side.
Thranduil watched him enter with interest. The council had yet to receive an official report, but he had heard enough to know that his son had been among the injured. The rest of the council may have seen his son confidently and purposefully move through the room, but Thranduil saw with a father's eyes the way his son shortened his long stride slightly and the controlled movements of his arms and torso. Thranduil saw someone he loved suppressing pain. But his son was here, and not in the healing wings, and Thranduil trusted him. Or at least, Thranduil trusted that someone else would have forced his son to the healing wings had it been necessary.
Thranduil decided to move this along. The sooner this particular meeting ended, the better for everyone, "Legolas, besides the brief notifications upon your return, we have heard only hearsay and rumor of what has happened. I think we would all benefit from your official report. It is my understanding that you have other matters to attend to today, I would not see you spend more time here than is necessary when our warriors have need of you."
Legolas recognized that his father was giving him the opportunity for early escape, and he was grateful. He nodded and began his report. He told them of how he and his warriors had scouted the orcs for three days while avoiding detection and engagement. He provided details about their enemy's numbers and organization, their movements and encampments. He described the plan of attack, waiting until dawn when most of the orcs would be asleep, moving some of their numbers east and west before moving further south in an attempt to flank them, their efforts to stay in the trees and maintain the high ground. He spoke of the surprisingly coordinated response of the orcs and described how the orcs had reinforcements available to them shortly after the battle began.
The battle went ill for them when three of their number were nearly simultaneously hit by bolts from the orcs' crossbows. The warriors had fallen from the trees and forced other elves to the ground to cover them. With the advantage of the trees lost to them, the tide began to turn against them.
He left out the part of the tale where he had taken injury on the ground when an orc managed to slip past his defenses as he fought to protect a fallen warrior who later succumbed to injuries—it was not necessary for the big picture the council cared about. Instead, he described their efforts to retrieve the fallen and return to the trees. They had been partially successful, enough elves had scaled the trees that they were able to drive the orcs back with their arrows.
Here, Legolas had to rely on the account he had received from Galathil. The orcs had eventually retreated beyond the long reach of the elven archers, but the contingent was unable to press the temporary advantage. The wounded required aid and protection, and many of those able to fight had minor injuries that needed tending.
Legolas concluded by explaining where the boundaries now stood between territory controlled by orcs, territory controlled by elves, and contested territory, "We did not lose ground, and we did push them back a little. But the entire line is contested, we will not be certain of the exact areas we control until other patrols are sent out to scout. One is heading south now; our hope is that they will not be engaged by the enemy so soon after the battle."
Legolas paused, offering a moment for the Council to ask questions. When none were forthcoming, he continued, "Never have I seen so many of those foul creatures coordinate for an organized attack. I believe they intended to push further north and likely would have succeeded had we not sought to drive them south at the same. We prevented them from gaining ground, but were not able to push our border of control further south as hoped."
Silence followed the end of the report, until it was broken by Berethron, a long-time Councilor whom Legolas held in esteem. Berethron had never been a warrior, but he listened when the warriors spoke and heard what they needed. He was good at balancing the needs of the kingdom with the capabilities of the kingdom's resources. Most importantly, he was usually able to cut straight to the heart of the matter and recognize what was most important, "Have the families of the dead been notified?"
"Aye," Legolas responded, "I spoke to them myself before coming here; it is why I was delayed. Others are seeing that their needs are met."
Berethron nodded, satisfied. Galdor, however, was not satisfied. Where Berethron was measured and tactful in his approach, Galdor was rash and blunt. While Legolas appreciated that he never had to guess what Galdor was thinking, he often thought Galdor would benefit from a bit of restraint. Today, Legolas knew Galdor would have no restraint, for he was the uncle of one of the dead.
"Their needs are being met?" Galdor asked Legolas icily, "What they need is safety. They need to know that they and their families are safe. Why is it that our warriors cannot provide that?"
Legolas lowered his gaze. He knew there would always be losses in war, and they were indeed a people at war. For a long time, the elves of the realm had denied this fact and clung to the lives they had lived in Greenwood, untainted by the shadow of Dol Guldur. But now this land was Mirkwood, both on maps and in fact, though Legolas would never call it that. "No victory comes without sacrifice," Legolas finally replied.
"These days, it seems we are only capable of sacrifice and not victory!" Galdor snapped, "Can we not go one month without the loss of an elven life?"
No, Legolas thought bitterly, lately it seemed they could not even accomplish that. Lately, it seemed he could keep no one safe.
"We should not judge the warriors too harshly, it seems that they did at least head off another offensive by our enemy," Berethron replied, "Consider the meeting we might be having if our warriors had not been there." Some counselors nodded their agreement, others did not seem convinced.
Legolas resisted the urge to sigh, this was the part of the meetings that he hated. Waiting for the counselors to debate the current state of affairs and determine a course of action. For him, it was simple enough. Stop the orcs, clear out the spider nests, push the shadow south. End the war—that one was a more long-term goal. His mind wandered to the long list of tasks that awaited him. His warriors needed rest and the work that normally would have been completed by the injured would not wait for them to recover. He caught his father looking at him somewhat sharply and realized he was bouncing his leg restlessly. He stopped and forced himself to concentrate on the conversation. Berethron caught his eye and Legolas knew Thranduil was not the only one to notice his inattention.
Berethron, however, was more sympathetic to Legolas' plight, "Legolas, it is my understanding that you rearranged patrols to gather more warriors for this offensive; is it safe to assume that patrols will need to be adjusted further to account for the new state of things?"
Galdor scoffed, "Speak plainly, Berethron, further adjustment is necessary because we have dead and wounded."
Berethron did not respond, but continued to gaze evenly at Legolas, who could not stop himself at biting his lip at Galdor's comment before swiftly schooling his features again.
"Yes, my lord. Galathil is updating the rosters as we speak, I will make the assignments myself later."
Berethron looked to Thranduil, "My king, I think Legolas has provided the information the council needs to deliberate further. I believe our realm would be better served if we were to release him to see the needs of the warriors."
The king resisted the urge to smile at Berethron, it was good that his son had an ally on the council. "I agree. Legolas, see to your other duties, but I would speak with you again today."
"Yes, my lord," Legolas replied as he stood. As soon as Legolas moved from his place, he resisted the urge to run in a most unprincely manner and tried not to listen as the council launched back into arguments.
Author's note: In case you're interested, I'm working on a one-shot about the mother mentioned early in this chapter after she starts training to become a healer that I'll post sometime after wrapping up this story. Depending on whether it is well-received, I may expand it into a series of one-shots, but that's a decision for another day!
I hope you enjoyed chapter two. Thank you again to everyone who reviewed chapter one. I always appreciate feedback (whether good or bad) and would love to hear what you thought about this chapter if you have a minute. A quick heads up, I'm going out of town next week. I am going to try to get chapter 3 up on Friday before I leave, but it might be a few extra days if you don't see it by then. If that happens, I'll make up for it by posting chapter 4 early. Until next time!