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Chapter Ten: Preparations
True to Gilfaroth's word, his company was preparing to ride out to Rivendell just after dawn. There was, however, one more task to be done before they could depart.
Thranduil had yet to tell his son that he was being sent away.
The blow would be softened, he knew, with the news that Luinlothiel was traveling with him. In fact, rather than assembling his regular patrol Gilfaroth had hand-picked the elves who were to accompany them, and he had heard that both Meluial and Brithdil had been pulled from their regular duties to join the company.
Legolas sat alone in his bed in the ward, staring around him in bewilderment as the healers bustled about packing herbs and medicines for the journey. Thranduil paused, his heart nearly breaking as he realized this would probably be the last time he saw his son as an elfling.
He approached the bed, careful to make some noise so he wouldn't completely startle the elfling.
The prince looked up at his father, eyes wide in confusion. "Ada?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Thranduil sat on the edge of the bed, gently drawing his son into his arms. "Legolas," he began, his voice cracking. "Do you know, when you were born I promised your mother I would always protect you?"
Legolas shook his head, though from the expression on the elfling's face Thranduil knew his son realized something was going to happen.
"I did," he said, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I also promised her that I would send you someplace safe if anything ever happened to you."
The prince sniffed. "Why?" he asked.
"Because," Thranduil swallowed, tightening his embrace around his son. "Because I cannot always protect you here," he finally said, a tear leaking out of his eye. "Because of the shadow the forest is not safe, and you should be able to grow up in a place of peace."
Legolas buried his face in his father's tunic. "No," he whispered.
"I am sending you to Imladris," the king said. "Lord Elrond will take care of you."
The prince shook his head. "I want you," he whimpered.
"I know," Thranduil rested his chin against the elfling's head. "But Celebalqua says that you're very ill and she can't help you anymore. Only Lord Elrond can."
Legolas sniffed, and the king could feel his son's tears dampening his tunic.
"It won't be forever," he promised. "And Lord Elrond will take good care of you. He has two sons, I believe they are a little younger than Belegdur."
The little prince shook his head again. "No."
"It won't be forever," Thranduil repeated. "And Imladris is so peaceful. You can grow up without being afraid. You'll be safe there."
"But you won't be there," the elfling whispered.
Thranduil closed his eyes. He felt as though his heart was breaking. "I don't want you to go, either," the king finally admitted, resolved to tell his son the truth. "But I'm afraid something worse will happen if you stay here."
The elfling shivered, his grip on his father's tunic tightening. "W-what about Amarthwen?" Legolas asked, his voice shaking.
The king frowned, Meluial's suspicions hovering on the edge of his thoughts. "She's staying here," he said. "Legolas," Thranduil hesitated, "did she do this to you?"
He could feel his son's heart pounding, and glanced down to see that the elfling had gone surprisingly pale.
"N-no," Legolas whispered.
Thranduil's frown deepened. He wanted to press the matter, to demand the truth from his son but the elfling's reaction made him hesitate. Something about the truth terrified Legolas, and he did not know if forcing his son to face it would aide or hinder his healing. But even if the nurse had been the one responsible, Thranduil reasoned, Legolas would be safe from her in Imladris. And with the prince out of harm's way, Thranduil would be free to investigate matters without concern for his son's safety.
"All right," Thranduil said softly. He would write to Elrond later to ask him to encourage the elfling to tell the full tale. Perhaps in a place far removed from the palace Legolas would be more able to speak of what happened. "Come, I will help you dress for your journey," he said, gently picking the elfling up and carrying him out of the ward. "I believe your sister has already packed for you, but you cannot expect to ride through the forest in a sleeping gown!"
The king's attempt at mirth fell short, as Legolas simply rested his head against his father, tears still running down his face.
"Will you forget me?" the elfling asked quietly.
Thranduil felt a sob hitch in his throat, and forced himself to steel his composure in front of his son.
"Never."
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But while Thranduil was helping his youngest son prepare for his journey, Princess Meluial had a different sort of preparation to make.
She found Amarthwen standing off to one side of the hall and stealthily approached her, careful to keep her steps quiet.
"Amarthwen," Meluial clapped a hand to the blonde elf-maid's shoulder, grinning as the older being gave a start. "May I speak with you a moment?"
The nurse assented, and the two walked some steps down the hall, away from the bustle of the gathering company.
"Did you need something, Lady Meluial?" Amarthwen asked sweetly.
Meluial shook her head. "I merely wanted to suggest that you to leave the palace and never come back," she explained in a conversational tone.
Amarthwen stared at the princess as though she hadn't heard her properly. "What?"
"Leave," Meluial repeated, through gritted teeth, "and I would suggest you never return."
The older elf laughed merrily. "And why would I want to do that?"
The princess took a step toward her, anger flashing in her eyes. "There may not be enough proof against you for my father, but I have no qualms in accusing you of harming my brother."
Amarthwen's eyes narrowed. "Why would I do that?"
"I don't know," Meluial said, her tone more one of accusation than confession. "But I know it was you."
For the first time, Meluial could see something like concern in Amarthwen's pale blue eyes. "Has someone accused me?" she asked.
"Not yet."
The nurse straightened. "Then why should I leave? I've done nothing wrong."
Meluial's eyes narrowed. "All right," she said darkly. "But if I learn that you were in any way responsible for what happened to Legolas, blood will be spilt. And it will not be mine."
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It was a solemn group that gathered outside the palace to say farewell to the Rivendell-bound party that morning. Gilfaroth's hand-selected part of ten elves—eight warriors excluding himself and his wife—were all mounted or stood waiting by their horses for the prince they were to escort.
Luinlothiel steeled herself as her father approached. She was, in part, glad that she was accompanying Legolas to Rivendell as that would delay their farewell. However, she did not know how she could bear leaving him all alone in the house of Lord Elrond.
The princess steadied her horse as the other warriors mounted. All had agreed that a speedy departure once the prince was in their hands would be best for all parties. She fingered the small flask Celebalqua had given her, with instructions to make Legolas drink it as soon as they were out of sight. It contained a simple sleeping draught, and it was the healer's hope that the elfling could better bear the journey away from his home if he were asleep.
Luinlothiel forced a smile onto her face as her father came up to stand by her mare, Legolas held tightly in his arms.
"Take care of him?" the king asked.
"You don't even need to ask," Luinlothiel replied, holding her arms out for the elfling. With a moment's hesitation, Thranduil handed his son over to his daughter, tears catching in his eyes as Legolas struggled to remain in his father's arms.
"You have to go," Thranduil whispered, stroking Legolas' hair as Luinlothiel adjusted him on the saddle before her. "But you will return some day."
Legolas sniffed, shaking his head and fighting against Luinlothiel. "I'll be good," he whispered in a last attempt at convincing his father to let him stay home.
The Elvenking smiled weakly. "You always were," he said softly, stepping away despite the elfling's protests. "Ride fast," he called to the riders. "May the Grace of the Valar go with you."
Gilfaroth raised one arm and called for the patrol to move out, taking the lead down the path that would lead them out of the forest.
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"Adar?" a hand grabbed Thranduil's arm as the patrol rounded out of sight.
Thranduil brushed away Belegdur's hand. "I am all right," he replied, ignoring the catch in his throat and the tears in his eyes.
"Pardon me, Adar, but you are not," Belegdur chided, his own voice trembling. "None of us are."
The king nodded, glancing over at his son and putting an arm around the younger elf's shoulders. "It is for the best," he said, though he could not help but feel that he was trying to convince himself of the fact.
"Is it?" Belegdur asked, a bit harshly.
Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked, refusing to let the sharpness he felt enter his tone. His emotions were on edge already, and he was not about to let his son drive him to anger.
"You know how the elves who live there are...he will grow up in a manner unworthy of an elf of his stature."
"Forget not that Elrond is an elf-lord of high esteem," Thranduil said warningly.
"I know," Belegdur huffed a sigh. "But, Adar, surely there was another way."
The king's eyes grew distant, and he turned his gaze back to the forest path, even though the riders were far out of sight. "I do not know," he admitted, fear that this was the wrong decision suddenly clutching at his heart. "But I pray there wasn't."
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