The Exodus

Chapter 2

by Bethuviel

Disclaimer: The estate of J.R.R. Tolkien owns all rights to Middle Earth and all recognizable characters. I do not recieve compensation in any form for any work of fiction I have published anywhere on this site.

Author's Note: As the age of Legolas is in doubt, I am using him as the primary point of view. And as there is little written of this exodus, I do not feel as though I am "messing around with canon" and may take a few artistic liberties to tell this story.

My beta has went on vacation, so any mistakes are mine, and I ask for forgiveness.

Thranduil had seen the pain in his son's face. It had been as plain as the clouds in the sky over Greenwood. He could identify with that pain all too well, for he himself had lost much that was dear to him. He could still remember that fateful day with all clarity; nothing had faded with the passing of time.

Oropher had followed Gil-galad and Elendil into Mordor, for what they thought would be a final quick victory against the Dark Lord, Sauron. Thranduil remembered watching his father lead the Silvan Elves from Greenwood and Lorien in battle, under Gil-galad's command. He winced and turned away from Legolas to hide his face from his son. During the first assault on Mordor, in his righteous anger Oropher spurred ahead, was cut off from his soldiers and was surrounded by a sea of orcs. Thranduil had fought with bitter desperation, trying to reach his father. He had watched his Ada slowly become overwhelmed, until at last Oropher simply disappeared beneath a monstrous black mass. Summoning soldiers to himself, Thranduil had led a small charge of elves to retrieve his father's body, but only found the remains of his blood soaked cloak.

For seven years the war raged and the losses were grievous. Thranduil had returned home, weary, wiser, and with heavy shoulders as the fate of the kingdom now rested on him. And today was no different. Once again his shoulders were tired from the weight. He wanted nothing more than to reassure his son and protect his people. He cleared his mind of the horrific memories and turned to face his son and heir.

"Ada?" asked Legolas, worry thickening in his voice.

"I am alright, son. There are some things, some memories that are too painful to relive by speaking of them. I am not yet ready to do so." Thranduil took a deep breath and stood up straight again.

"I know, Ada. When you are ready, I will be here." Legolas felt his heart skip a beat, then thump hard. He had to swallow to alleviate the discomfort.

Thranduil nodded at his son, then said, "Ever have you been a source of delight to my heart, Greenleaf. And you carry the mantle of your birthright well. I am proud of you and I love you."

Legolas felt his eyes water, and he tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over onto his face. He stood up and ran over to his father who waited with open arms. They embraced one another tightly.

"I miss him too," whispered Thranduil, "But he would want us to do what is right for our people first and foremost. In our new home, we will make new memories, and remember the old ones always. And yet there is hope, he may be restored to us one day in Valinor. If not, then at the end of all things when all creation will sing a new song to Iluvatar. We will see him again." Thranduil rubbed his son's back as he comforted him.

Legolas knew he was too mature to be laying his head upon his father's chest, but he did not care. He breathed his father's scent in deeply and forgot his worries. He trusted his father. "I love you too, Ada."

Thranduil patted Legolas on the back and stepped away, dabbing at his eyes with his fingers, "Come now son, we wouldn't want the maids to walk in a see us like this, it would ruin our stern reputations."

Legolas giggled at Thranduil's humor and replied, "No, we couldn't have that now could we? After all, we've worked too hard at making our royal masks, it would not do for anyone to know that we're not made of steel." Legolas wiped at his own eyes.

They both laughed heartily, momentarily letting go of their angst.

Thranduil turned to leave, paused and assumed his role as king and said, "Legolas, you are my second in command, and there will be many responsibilities I will leave in your care, including the treasury. I will meet with you after dinner to discuss these things, and would appreciate your honest opinions and thoughts. Until dinner." Thranduil left, closing the door behind him.

Legolas smiled. It had ever amazed him at how easily Thranduil slipped into his different identities, always becoming completely submerged into whichever one he happened to be wearing at the moment. He respected his father, and his king. Legolas wished his Ada no ill will, but he hoped that should the throne pass into his own care, that he would be at least half the leader that his father was.

Legolas sat on his bed. This was the first time he would be allowed to oversee the treasury. He knew almost nothing about the wealth of the kingdom, only that there were vaults. Of course he had heard the rumors of his father being stingy, but he had always thought that a good ruler was not a spendthrift, advertising the riches of the throne to any brigrand that cared to take notice. The greed of another being was an evil he cared not to fight or worse, have to pay a ransom to. Legolas cared not that the world thought the Greenwood Elves poor and stingy. He believed that their treasury was their own business, and like his father, would keep it that way. He was glad that he had earned the privilege of safekeeping the treasures of the kingdom, and that Thranduil had so high of an opinion of him. He laid back on his bed, and took note of the time by looking out of his balcony at the way the shadows lay from the light of the sun.

It was yet two hours before dinner. He supposed he would bathe and change his clothing into something more befitting of the king's presence and table. He rolled over, grabbed the cord that hung by his bed and pulled it to summon a maid to tend to his needs.

Thranduil hurried down the halls of his home to his private chambers. Once inside, he closed the heavy oak door and leaned agaisnt it. The move of the realm was harder for him than he let anyone know. He closed his eyes and once again stood outside the gates of Mordor. Tears ran down his face as he watched the orcs overwhelm Oropher. He choked and coughed as the memories flooded his mind, his grief as raw as the day it was created. He twisted his head back and forth as he tried to escape the sounds of his father's screams. Still, the agony and torture of them haunted him. He put the palms of his hands over his ears and pushed agaisnt them.

Thranduil cried aloud, "It should have been me, Ada!" Thranduil sunk to his hands and knees then whispered, "It should have been me..."

Sobs racked his body and he had not the strength to hold himself up. Thranduil fell the rest of the way to the floor, rolled over onto his side and curled up into a tight ball and wept. He did not feel like the mighty elven king of the north. Where was his comfort? Who would embrace him and offer him words of encouragement? Thranduil felt empty and alone.

When he felt the waves of his anguish recede like the tide from the pull of the moon, Thranduil rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. With one hand, he wiped the mucus from his nose and a new feeling wrapped itself about Thranduil, anger.

Thranduil felt the anger course through his body like blood in his veins. He was angry for the loss of his father. During the seven years of the war, he had searched in vain for the body of Oropher. There had been nothing, and he felt angry that he could not bury his father with the honors that had been deserved. He was angry that there was no one to whom he could turn to for advice, no one he could talk to and share his deepest fears with. He was angry for the loss of that last tie of close family, excluding his son. When he thought of Legolas, he briefly smiled.

The Valar could not have blessed him with a better son. He knew Legolas at times felt guilty that his mother had died giving birth to him. Thranduil had always reassured his son that he was in no way to blame for her death. Thranduil felt he had been doubly blessed with the love of a great elleth, and a beautiful strong son. He saw in his son the love of his wife. Together, that love coupled with his son's existance, gave him the strength and encouragement he needed to continue instead of fading. Thranduil held onto that. He steadied his breathing and sat up.

He thought of Legolas. His son had always strived hard to please him. And Thranduil was proud of him. He only wished that Legolas did not pester him to explore Arda and to go visiting his meddlesome cousins over in Lorien. Thraduil wanted to keep his son at home, safe from the evil horrors that now inhabited middle earth and had murdered his father. Thranduil sighed. He stood up and went over to his mirror and examined his appearance. He was a mess. His eyes were slightly swollen and his hair was a rat's nest.

He washed his hands and face, smoothed his robes and brushed his hair. "He is no longer an elfling, but an ellon in his own right. Almost two thousand years old, and I have to stop treating him like he is still only a hundred." Thranduil lectured his reflection.

There was a gentle knocking on his door. "Enter," he called.

A young maid opened the door and let him know that the evening meal was ready to be served at his pleasure.

"Thank you."

The maid exited quietly.

Thranduil looked at himself once more with a critical eye. "Aye, he is an ellon now, intelligent, handsome, a strong warrior, and crowned prince of my people. One day, he will be a good king. And tonight, he is one of my trusted advisors."

Thranduil opened the door to his room and stepped out. He took a deep breath and went to his own dinner table where he met his son.

Author's Note: Reviews are greatly appreciated.