Chapter 15

*20 year prior in Mirkwood*

Legolas heard his father pummel his fist against his desk as he walked out of his study. Their conversation had not transpired as planned. It had been today that the Prince of Mirkwood informed his father of his plans to take what elves wished, to start a new colony in Ithilien. Lord Faramir had already done much establishing the city in the last fifteen years.

He endeavored to satisfy his father by staying occupied, immersing himself in all his princely duties, but it had not been enough. There was a void he felt in his soul, that he just could not quench—Double shifts on the guard, patrolling the borders for the last remaining orcs and spiders, nor could going through the accounts and planning renovations that needed to be seen to around the city improve his disposition.

After that, Legolas thought a few trips could help curb his unrest. He made journeys to Laketown and Erebor negotiating new trade agreements and domestic affairs be their kingdoms. For a while, in the open air and wide open spaces, his soul felt more content, the void lifted. It had given him hope that his mood was improving, however, it only took a few days back in the underground caves for his restlessness to return, and always in more fervor.

The night before had found him pacing his rooms late into the night, nothing he did could settle his mind for sleep. It would have helped had he been able to pinpoint where his unease stemmed, but it evaded him like a thief in the night. No matter how much he reached and prodded, and stewed, he failed to grasp anything. He waited for the coming day by his hearth, thinking of ways to break the news to his father.

Which is how he now he found himself on patrol once again, needing to be outside and as far from his father as possible. Though to be honest, his mind was not on his job, and his men knew it. It was his longest childhood friend who finally spoke first.

"To where does your mind wander, my friend?" Beriadan asked, placing a light hand on his friends shoulder, giving him a worried glance.

"I spoke with my father this morning."

Raising an eyebrow, Beriadan replied, "And that usually makes you so distracted?"

Legolas sighed, "No. I spoke to him of leaving Mirkwood." His friend opened his mouth to reply, but found himself speechless. This was the first he had heard his long time friend mention leaving. Legolas continued. "I have been restless my friend, I find nothing that once held interest to me here gives me any pleasure. There is a void, an uneasiness in my soul that I cannot quench here, no matter how I have tried, and believe me, I have truly tried."

Finally finding his voice, his friend replied, "To where will you go?"

"I think to travel to the new city Lord Faramir is building in Ithilien, I wish to take any elves who are willing to start a new colony there. I traveled there when I was last in Gondor and the land is perfect. Abundant water from the river, rolling hills and distant mountains. The soil is rich and fertile. With the skill of the elves, it could become one of the most beautiful cities of the fourth age." He spoke with passion, answering his friend.

The memory of the land brought back another, even more painful memory, Evelyn. He felt a sharp stab of guilt, but what confused him even more was the deep seed of grief that settled in his stomach. Why was he thinking of her now? For the past years he had successfully swept her memory to the back of his mind, and with one pleasant memory, hers come rushing to the forefront replacing his pleasure with grief. He gulped it down with difficulty.

Beriadan took his time considering all his friend and Prince said. It was true, since his return from journeying with the Fellowship, he had been different. He had just thought it from all he had seen and done in those months. It would have changed even the oldest, most hardened warrior. Not once had Legolas spoken of his travels since his return, and no one tried to persuade him to open up. Maybe, he thought silently to himself, that had been a mistake.

Two thousand years he had walked this earth, and most of them with Legolas, but he had never left Mirkwood, never left his home. His biggest adventure was traveling the borders of their city to fight the creatures of the dark. Traveling with his friend would bring him ease and comfort to quell his anxiety. He would get to see more of Middle-Earth before he felt the call of the ocean.

"Aye, well, I would go with you my friend." Beriadan finally spoke.

Legolas smiled at his friend, and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a brotherly squeeze. "Thank you."

The Prince of Mirkwood had not known what to expect when he told his friend of his plan. He had hope that he would want to join him, yet he also knew Beriadan had never left the Woodland Realm, and he was not sure he would want to after all this time. It had done his heart good to hear his reply, gave him the courage he needed to ask others to accompany him.

Letting the rest of the guard pass him, Legolas stood for a moment in the thick trees, now clear of spider webs, and the bright rays of the sun filtering through to the forest floor, warming his face with their light. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he sent a prayer to the Valar asking for steadiness and courage and the knowledge that he was making the correct decision.

Thranduil sank back into his large brown leather chair, his fist clenched as he dropped his head on them, the cold stone topped table chilling his hands.

Where had he gone wrong?

With the war of the ring over, seeing his son again, alive and whole, it had been one of the most jovial days in his long life. After all his time spent away from home, fighting battles, and having grand escapades across the land with the now King of Gondor, he was eager to have him home once more. Legolas knew how to be a good ruler, he was, in all likelihood, more suited to the mantle than he. However, he was not ready to step down and Legolas had made it clear he was not ready to take the burden. Nevertheless, he knew there would be engagements he could hand over to him, give him an abundant role in ruling the kingdom. They would rule side by side.

Then he saw him with the mortal woman—no, he had to correct himself, the immortal woman he now knew. Thranduil knew that look, even if his son did not perceive what was happening. He had grown attached to her, and vise versa.

Sighing into his hands, he looked at the crackling fire in the hearth. Had he been wrong? Should he have let events play out without intervening? He was not sure, but loosing his son was not an option, he could not lose his son to who he thought was a mortal at the time, he could not bear the loss. Then he found out the truth of her, and could not face his son with his error, his pride would not allow such. Had that been the mistake then? If she came here, would his son stay? Then he had to remind himself, he did not want her here with her magic.

A fist landed on his desk again, sending the parchment scattering to the wind. Being king of this realm he was use to being in control, not feeling like his life was spiraling out of his command.

What else could he have done? He had seen the growing disquiet in Legolas. Seen and granted every request his son made, all to make him happy—every request but the last. Acceptance for him to leave with what elves chose to follow and make a new colony in Ithilien. He was losing his son no matter what path he chose. Was this the Valar's retribution for his wrongs in the past? Revenge for his pridefulness?

Evelyn. It all circled back around to the girl. Had she never been sent here, her path would have never crossed Legolas' and their attraction never happened. In his gut, Thranduil knew it was his separation from the woman that caused his unease, though admitting it would be admitting he had been wrong again, and his sons feelings for her ran deeper than he thought. She had told him hers did, what had made him think it was different for his son? He silently cursed the day the Valar sent her to them.

No, the King thought, shaking his head, he had done what was best for his son. Dwelling on those thoughts would get him nowhere, he needed to press on and determine what he could do to reverse Legolas' decision. Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, would not lose his son.

Rising from his chair, he made his way over to the staircase that would lead him to his small balcony on the rim of the cave. Resting his forearms on the stone, he looked out over his land, sighing. How had he drifted so far from his son over the years and not even realized? Where was he blinded to the fact of his son's veering path? Where the answers were, he did not know, but straightening his back he resolved to find them.

*Present day - Near the Gap of Rohan*

Evelyn had never been so elated to be off a horse in all her life. She had prepared Granat for long journeys, and herself as well. However, that did not take into account when she came home, she had nice fluffy bed and pillow to sleep on and warm food in her belly, and a rested horse. Fifteen days into the journey and she had hard bumpy ground for bedding and lembas bread to eat.

Evelyn could not remember when she had last been so stiff and in so much pain, thinking back, it had to be during her recovery in Gondor. A shiver went down her spine at the memory. Sitting straight was anguish, and she knew she had to be making Granat's back just as stiff, and walking, well walking was a jest. She had made it a routine the past few nights when they stopped to dismount away from the group. Having the stallion bow and lie down was the only way she could get off without plummeting to the ground, and even then she had to use him for support for many long tortuous minutes until her muscles would allow her to move. Usually she made it within a believable distance before she dropped her items and plopped on her mat.

Ceilin took over from there. Evelyn hungered to protest, but stamped down her pride. No matter how much she wanted to go to the fire and get the warm refreshing tea and more lembas, her body just could not do it. Besides, it was less shameful to have her handmaid do her job than her fall on her ass attempting to do it herself. And on a positive note, they were half way there, they had chosen to bypass the roads and travel through the wilds.

Not considering the much rougher terrain, the views were breathtaking. She loved watching the thick forested summits of Rivendell slowly change to wide open prairies and rolling hills of Rohan. They met no other travelers, and saw an abundance of animals—deer, rabid, fox, and all manner of other animals she never saw back home.

Raising the saucer to her lips, Evelyn let the warm liquid pour into her mouth and down her throat, sighing as the tea warmed her stiffening muscles, helping them relax. The lembas could wait, even though she was starving. The drink was what made her able to relax into sleep, and she wanted her sleep bad, the sun would rise early and they would once again be on their way, one more day closer to Gondor. Slowly she felt her eyes close, and the calm of sleep take her.

Once she knew her lady was asleep, Ceilin made her way over to the lords, giving a slight curtsey as she did so.

"Ceilin, my dear, you have been with us long enough to know that you do not have to curtsey to us." Glorfindel spoke, as he acknowledged her greeting with a slight nod of his head.

"Aye sir, tis' but proper."

"What is it that troubles you?"

"It is my lady sir, she is in much pain, yet pardon my saying, too stubborn to speak up. I was wondering if there was anyway to give her some rest?"

"We all share your concern Ceilin, and it has not passed our notice, her discomfort. Though I am not sure how we could superintend such. Taking a day of rest would be very obvious." Lord Celeborn responded, "Even taking a few hours off the day, I fear she would notice. She tends to be more observant that people notice."

"I have to agree, as much as it pains me to say so." Glorfindel responded.

"I cannot just do nothing for her." Her hand maid replied in distress.

At that moments the twins appeared from the brush by the fire, "Worry not Ceilin, that is why you have us!" Elrohir stated merrily.

"Evelyn was a wreckage when she was last brought to Gondor, as you know she has all the scars to remind us all of that. Yes, they pain her, but I think it will pain her more if we bring notice to them, and the fact she is not as she once was. We must keep traveling just as we have, and pay no heed when she hides to have us not see her pain. We can give her that, however, Elrohir…" He smiled to his brother gesturing with his arm for him to share their strategy.

Elrohir held out a sack of multiple berries and herbs. "These my friends are the answers to our problem."

"And those are?" Lord Celeborn questioned, giving the twins a skeptical glance.

"Come now, father did teach us about healing!" Elladan protested jovially. "These are cherries to steep into a drink. The herbs are catnip and vervain to add to her tea. They are all very good, very strong muscle relaxers, they should relieve a great deal of her stiffness throughout the day."

"Oh! That is perfect my lords! Thank you!" Ceilin exclaimed, clapping her hands together with a smile on her face. She could not wait to start making the drink for Evelyn, she crossed her fingers for success.

Her dreams had started out as blackness, Evelyn had not minded, she enjoyed not having dreams. If she did not have dreams, she did not have to be concerned about having nightmares. Hazy images began to configure in the blackness, an orange aura surrounding them. She found herself squinting to make out the figures she saw. The image in the middle eventually began to clear and Evelyn balked at what she saw.

Fire. There was fire everywhere. The town was an inferno, ablaze with the screams of people as they tried to escape, but their cloth tents were no match for the licking flames. It consumed them as a child would devour sweets. It took everything in its path and left nothing behind. She turned a circle, the flames leaping at her, but unable to touch her. It was desert land nothing but sand and nothing else as far as the eye could see. It had to be somewhere south of Gondor or east of Mordor. which she could not tell, but she knew these people. She knew the Haradrim and the Easterlings all too well, the scars on her back aching anew with the memory.

Children and adults ran in hysteria between the flames, looking for their families. People already on fire ran, the flames consuming them even faster. The smoke choked her as she tried to scream for the people, her tears left streaks down her ashen face.

Dark and tanned skinned men and women appeared in her periphery, they were scantly clad, but had cloths over their face to protect their lungs from the smoke. They were not people from this village, they were here to reap the benefits of their fire. As they came closer she could see their bodies decorated in red paint, flames painted everywhere skin was showing. Piercing covered their faces, all in black metals that shown menacingly in the flames.

All the people fleeing that were not alight were quickly captured and shackled, those that fought were killed instantly. Evelyn closed her eyes, wishing the images away, but she could still hear the screams, and then a single voice floated through the air. Her eyes flew open and she looked to her left. Far in the distance stood a lone man on a hill, holding up his arm, a silhouette in the light of the fire. He was their leader, he was the cause of this pain and bloodshed. Evelyn would not forget that voice.

She awoke with a start. Her eyes starred into the pale dusky sky. Dawn was close. She closed her eyes the memories still fresh in her mind. A sense of growing unease curled in her belly and would not release her from its web. She gingerly wiped the tears she spilled in her sleep off her face, taking many slow deep breaths to compose herself for the others. They would soon be up and they would be traveling closer to Gondor and the lands of her nightmares.

A/N: From what I could gather the trip to Gondor from Rohan as the bird flies is roughly 954miles. A seasoned travel horse traveling at mostly a trot and some walking could cover approximately 30miles in a day. Obviously weather depending and terrain that could change, but those are the calculations I used in this chapter, giving them about a 32 day journey.

Please let me know what you think of seeing things from Legolas and Thranduil's POV, i find them difficult to write at times!