A/N: A big thanks to all of you who read and reviewed : ). I totally appreciated it; I'm sorry if the updates are slow in coming, I'm also working on an original work at the same time, so...
Anyway, here's the third chapter. Read and enjoy.
JK 247
ROGUE
Chapter Three: The mystery of the child revealed
At last, they finally returned home to King Thranduil's palace.
But that meant nothing to Legolas. He was exhausted and anything but content; to make things worse, when they were alone, Fingolfin had even gone so far as to suggest that the child might be Legolas's, and he simply had had amnesia.
Legolas had never before wished to take any violent action against his brother, but that moment was the exception.
Upon greeting his father, Legolas had gone to his room so that he might be alone with his thoughts; he knew that wouldn't last long though, seeing that Estel was returning to Rivendell that same day.
Legolas had tried to persuade his longtime friend to stay, but the ranger would hear nothing of it. Nothing seemed to be able to keep him from returning to Rivendell, and Legolas began to question the man's motives, for there were certain rumors circulating that Estel was bewitched by Arwen, the beautiful daughter of lord Elrond.
Legolas tried not to believe them, and for the sake of his friend the elf hoped that the rumors were not true.
When he went to his room, he found an Elven servant inside; Avariel instantly noticed his return the moment the door swung open. She turned around, and made sure to keep her hands behind her back, for she was holding something that did not belong to her.
Though his thoughts were elsewhere, Legolas was still aware enough to notice the servant girl…and the fact that she appeared to be hiding something.
He frowned and she placed a smile on her fair face.
"Is something wrong?" Legolas asked her.
She shook her head, and began to move for the door, but Legolas stopped her.
"What are you hiding behind your back?" he asked firmly, so firmly, that she put her head down.
A moment passed before she looked up again, making direct eye contact with him; his blue eyes met her green ones and that moment ended sooner than she had liked to, but she still was able to find her escape, slipping out of the door before he could say anything else to her.
Once outside, she retrieved a necklace that had belonged to Legolas. He used to wear it often, especially while he grieved for his late mother, but now he never wore it at all. But it still reminded Avariel of him, and she was glad of that.
Happier than the Prince would never know.
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When Avariel and her strange behavior were out the door, Legolas bolted the door and changed into something more comfortable.
He could not resist the urge to look at the locket once more, for it seemed to entrance his thoughts.
Legolas popped the thing open again and stared at the portrait intently. He did not understand what had happened, or who this child was, but he was determined to find out.
Retrieving a small knife from his weapon belt, Legolas lifted the portrait with great care; if he was fortunate, then there would at least be some kind of identification on the back.
He got more than what he could have ever bargained for.
On the back of the portrait, in bold Elvish was written Legolas.
The elf nearly dropped the locket.
There had to be some kind of mistake! How could this be him? He had seen this child in his dreams, covered in blood, the blood of another. This had never happened to him! How could this be?
He simply did not understand. All of a sudden, the room seemed to spin to the Prince, and he could hardly orientate himself. By the time his vision cleared again, Legolas came to a decision: He knew that Estel was leaving very soon, but he would need to pay someone else a visit first…
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Thranduil, in his private quarters, noticed something strange. On one of his bed pillows was a locket, a locket that he owned, the only thing was that he had put it in a chest the day before.
Thranduil shook the notion away, simply presuming that overly nosy servants were to blame. He would have to talk with them later about that.
He gingerly picked the locket up and fingered the intricate carving of a tree on the front of it. He popped the thing open, and couldn't stop a small smile from coming to his lips when he saw the portrait within.
But this time, he noticed, the little portrait was loose, almost as though it had been taken out and put in without much effort. The King of Mirkwood frowned to himself, wondering why this was so.
His slender and nimble fingers easily lifted the portrait from its slot, and he found one five letter word staring back at him in rigid writing:
Thief.
Thranduil's mouth hung open for a moment, and he looked around the room as though he expected the intruder to emerge at any moment, for he knew that none of his servants could have possibly done this.
Just then, a knock resounded on the door, causing the jittery King to drop the locket and the portrait. But he hardly noticed.
A sheathed dagger rested in one of his chests, for he had had no need of it for years…until this day.
He collected it quickly, sliding it into one of his boots; he took a deep breath, and then flung the door open.
He breathed a noisy sigh of relief.
"Is everything alright, father?" Legolas asked with sincere concern.
Thranduil nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes son, do come in."
Legolas walked in; he couldn't help nervously fingering the locket.
"I thought that you would be with Estel at this time, seeing that he is leaving within the hour."
Legolas turned to his father with a serious look on his face. "I need to talk to you, father."
Thranduil knew then that it was serious and his smile vanished. "What is it?" he asked, motioning for Legolas to sit down, but the elf refused.
He took the locket off and dangled it before his father. "Fingolfin found this in the woods when we were returning."
Thranduil nodded. Fingolfin had told him some of that story. "You do not need my permission to keep a locket, Legolas," Thranduil scolded mildly, thinking that there were much more important matters than that.
Legolas nodded. "That I do know, and I will keep it for it is rightfully mine."
Thranduil tilted his head a little. "How so?" he asked.
Legolas dropped the locket into Thranduil's waiting hand. "Open it, father," he said stoically.
Already having a bad experience with a locket just recently, the King hesitated a little, but once he saw how serious Legolas was, he was quick to decide against hesitation. He opened it, only to find himself face to face with the same child that he had seen in his locket, only that the elfling was a little younger.
"The portrait bears my name," Legolas explained. "And this child—me in my younger years—is the same child that I saw in a dream that I had last night."
Thranduil had butterflies in his stomach, and it was not a good thing. Before he could stop him, Legolas told him his dream, leaving the King pale and his hands shaking.
"Do you know the meaning of this, father?" Legolas asked.
Thranduil shook his head. "No, I do not; it was simply a nightmare, there is nothing to it. Sometimes we all dream strange and stupid things, but it does not always mean that they are significant; there is no significance…"
By the time he realized that Legolas was no longer listening to him, it was too late, for Legolas had already noticed the little portrait lying on the floor. He picked it up and turned back to his father. "Is this not the same child, father?"
Thranduil swallowed hard, wishing that he had a glass of mead nearby.
But Legolas was relentless.
"Is this not me?"