"Father! Listen to me!"

Thranduil wanted to cast himself into a place of oblivion, where there was him and only him. He wanted to drown out all the other noises. He felt like his being was splitting in half like a fissure.

Legolas had come to him early in the morning, years after he had returned Mirkwood and Sauron was defeated, to speak with him. Thranduil had let him into his room, surprised by the visit and asked what it was his son wished to talk about.

Legolas did not immediately reply; instead, he sauntered over to the window and looked out. He fingered the crimson velvet curtains, then spun around to face Thranduil. He appeared nervous, his words teetering precariously at the tip of his tongue.

Legolas took a deep breath and gazed at his father squarely in the eye. "I've been thinking, at least Gimli and I both have…we're planning on leaving Middle-Earth and sailing over to the Undying Lands."

His words almost gave the Elven king a heart attack. He remained speechless and motionless for a long time, trying extremely hard to process the information and not fully comprehending that Legolas was dead serious. He had stood up waveringly, asking softly, "You can't be serious."

Legolas's eyes grew darker, his mouth transformed into a frown, and his eyebrows knitted together. "I am serious," He said in a tone with a hint of stubbornness.

Thranduil was very perturbed. He could not fathom his son going off on his own (ok, maybe with his best friend who turned out to be a dwarf, of all things) and never, ever, returning to him ever, (maybe add one more ever), again. This kind of thought Thranduil did not want to think about, not even in a million years, which by that time he would probably have passed from the world of the living.

Legolas was still following him, even though Thranduil had tried to lose him as he turned corners and twisted into another corridor.

"Your Highness, please listen to what the Prince has to say!"

Thranduil paused abruptly and leaned against the wall, sagging. "What is it?" He sighed, thinking it was Cíldir. He craned his neck and realized it was Legolas who had spoken those words. He had never called his father "Your Highness" and it made him sad, though it was his own fault for making Legolas go for such desperate means to talk to him.

"Look, father, I really meant it when I told you that Gimli and I are leaving. We're planning to leave in a couple of months. I'm truly sorry if it pains you so much. But this is my choice and I think it is the right one," Legolas explained.

Thranduil smiled ruefully. "You're my son, the Prince of Mirkwood, and heir to the throne. Of course it pains me," He said as he straightened himself to leave, but not before adding, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Legolas nodded and Thranduil murmured, "I understand. I need to spend time alone to think all of this over."

His confrontation with his son had shaken him down to his very core and for the rest of the day, the Elven king was in no mood to engage in conversation. He stayed shut like a hermit in his room. How would anyone know of his suffering, what he was feeling? His son, by his own decision, was going to desert him. How could anyone explain to him his terrifying loss?

But after shuffling in his room for hours, Thranduil had come to realize that it had been a very taxing and difficult decision for Legolas, and even more nerve-wracking to be able to confront him and relay the news of his decision. The Elven king decided to forgive Legolas, knowing though that he would one day be gone, forever, unless he himself chose to depart to the Undying Lands as well. But it was not his time yet.

How bizarre that it should be his son that would leave first, and not himself. He was the elder and he the younger. But, Thranduil did not question it further. Legolas had come to this conclusion and there would be no changing it.

After skipping both lunch and dinner, Thranduil grabbed a quick bite from the kitchen before forcing himself to step towards Legolas's room. He knocked and the door opened slowly.

Legolas looked up to see his father, smiled a little, and beckoned him inside.

No one in the castle knew what discussions were ensuing in the Prince's room. It was their secret - at least for now. It wasn't until the crack of dawn that all plans, procedures, and whatnot were conferred over.

Legolas yawned and Thranduil did as well. The Elven king took his son's hand and said, "You should sleep. We have stayed up all night discussing things."

"Father, have you forgiven me? If you have, I'd like to send a letter to Gimli."

"Of course I have. I don't think I'll forgive myself if I had not forgiven you. After we wake up, I'd like to spend as much time with you possible. I don't want to waste any more time before you leave."

Legolas agreed before falling into a deep slumber on his bed. Thranduil too could not stop his eyes from closing and soon fell into a wonderful dream, occupying a chair in the room. The two quietly slept while the rest of the castle continued its usual hustling business.

They slept the world peacefully away, pushing the burdens of reality aside for the time being.