Chapter 3, everyone!

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Chapter 3: Day 1 – Thranduil

Thranduil poured up another goblet of wine.

The meeting had just finished and he felt drained of strength in both body and mind. He took a deep gulp of wine, enjoying the sweet taste and the burning sensation as he swallowed. He then put down the goblet and proceeded with looking over the maps and scrolls of supplies that was spread across the table in a mess that was not quite like him. The Elvenking sighed softly as his crystal blue eyes flickered across the elegant, black letters in front of him.

The people of the Woodland Realm were a rich people, despite their barren lands and lack of craftwork. Their riches were from times of old, greatly taken care of and shared amongst the people. Their survival came from doing business with the Men from Laketown and even with the Dwarves from the Iron Hills. It now seemed fair to pay something back, to help them, especially the people of Laketown.

Thranduil gave the papers a tired look and sat down, his armor clattering faintly as he did so. It had been cleaned so the silver practically glowed, but he thought he could still smell the scent of blood on it. Goblin blood was not a pleasant scent. Reaching for his goblet – its context looking far too much like blood – Thranduil thought of what to do next.

The meeting had not been to any use. Daín from the Iron Hills was on edge since there had been news that Thorin Oakenshield had awakened and he had been a bit distracted with thoughts of his fatally wounded kin. Bard, grim-looking Bard, had spoken of how his people managed, of the upcoming winter and about that unknown number of dead. Daín had also not managed to get a fairly right number of losses and he commented on the gold, which he said he had no right to interfere with when his cousin and his heirs were still alive. It complicated things and Thranduil could not say that the meeting had improved the situation around camp. The Wizard – who usually attended the meetings – had not been spotted today and no matter how tired or annoyed Thranduil could feel about him, he missed his advice. The old Wizard was the only one who was truly neutral in this.

"My Lord?"

Thranduil opened his eyes, though he could not recall closing them, and turned to face his son. Legolas had his coloring and looked fairly like him, but he had a different sort of fire inside him whereas Thranduil was more like ice; cold and on the verge of being unbreakable. Legolas face was blank, but his eyes tired, troubled and pained. Thranduil nodded to one of the goblets at the table and at the bottle of wine.

"Drink, if you like. You appear to need it."

Legolas shook his head, not to Thranduil's surprise. He was alone in his appreciation of fine liquids that helped him see everything clearer, helped him calm down. He gestured to the other chair with a nod of his head.

"Please sit at least. You look tired."

He allowed some fatherly concern slip into his voice and watched Legolas like a hawk as he sat down in the chair opposite him. The Prince's shoulders slouched and he let his mask of calm confidence slip away for a while. Thranduil kept still and let him talk, blue eyes never leaving his son's face.

"I am tired", admitted Legolas with a sigh. "My mind is exhausted. So much violence and evil, destruction to the fullest…."

He trailed off and Thranduil did not fill the silence immediately. Legolas was not a child anymore, but he was still young enough not to have seen many real battles, battles that left the air thick with grief and air rotten with death and soul bloodied beyond help. The King rubbed his eyes as if hoping to erase the memories of the battle and the battles before it. It was a silly thought and after being alive for a long time, a far too long time, he should know better. Yet there was always a part of him that wished to be rid of all the bad memories that hurt and reminded him of that life was not without sacrifices.

"I have spoken to the council", said Thranduil out of the blue. "And with the leaders of the Dwarves and Men, even with the King of Eagles. They all speak differently, advise me and beg me of things they need. Everyone needs food, the Men of Esgaroth need supplies and material to rebuild their home and the Dwarves are in need of our healers. Mithrandir told me to send out a patrol, because he believes that there are still Goblins out there. I have advisors who think we shall head back home, to protect our own lands, who think that we have done enough for now. Then I have people who opposes it, who are determined that we should stay and help with what we can, that we should stand united."

He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried to again regain a calm expression as annoyance flared up inside and made his heart beat faster. He took another gulp of wine and fixed Legolas with an intense gaze.

"What is your advice in this, my son?"

A flash of surprise flickered in Legolas's eyes at the question, but the rest of his face remained impassive. He looked his father straight in the eye when he answered, something Thranduil appreciated.

"I say we stay and do our duty as allies. The grief and wounds are still fresh and I do not believe you to be that cruel, father, to leave innocent to fend for themselves when they barely survive as it is. An act of kindness now will likely be remembered for years to come. It will be a good start to the peace we are trying to rebuild."

He spoke all with a wisdom that exceeded his years and Thranduil felt a surge of pride at Legolas, a pride that made him feel twice as tall and mighty. That he told him.

"You speak wisely, my son and heir, and I shall listen to your advice. I will not leave the people of Esgaroth to die and I will assist the Dwarves, though I have little left for their greed. But you are right that a newly built alliance shall not begin with a cold shoulder being turned when in need."

With a fleeting smile and a look of love, Legolas humbly bowed. When straightening up, it looked as if he had gotten new strength, that some of the weariness had left him. His noble features were determined.

"You are doing the right thing, father", he said solemnly. "Our kingdom will endure, as you always say. Better help those who might not."

Thranduil sipped the last of his wine while nodding, though his frosty, blue eyes held a faraway look in them. He thought of his kingdom and how they eventually would have to deal with the dark power that had settled down in the forest.

There could be heard a soft 'clink' as he put down his goblet and stood up, sparing the maps and scrolls one last look.

"Where are your duties taking you now?" he asked Legolas and adjusted his silver diadem that adorned his head instead of a fancy crown.

"As the Captain of the Guards is unavailable at the moment, I am helping assisting the remaining warriors with their regrouping. Also, I am looking over the food that is coming."

"Good. It is expected of you."

Father and son exited the tent and the King nodded to the guards that stood outside. Neither of them moved from their posts, their expressions never faltering and their armor and spears glittering in the light from the sun upon the white sky. Bleak was the day and Thranduil did not like it. The cold made his bones ache and the bare lands made him long for the woods, no matter how dark and dreary it had become.

"Return to your duties, Legolas. We will speak later. For now, I will sit with the wounded, share my strength and pray."

The King's voice was heavy with a sorrow that was not new. Legolas bowed, his last word was a soft-spoken 'Ada' before marching down a different path that led to where the Elven warriors had their stead. Thranduil could detect the sound of arrows being fired, hitting their targets, even though the wind was raging. Noises of hammers against steel carried through camp and the moaning of the wounded was even worse than the wind.

Thranduil looked to the sky and saw the Eagles high up there, defying wind and weather. They appeared to free, as if the war somehow was beyond them, could not reach them. The old Elf sighed to himself.

He received bows and nods where he went, everyone recognizing him for who he was. He nodded formally to each and every one of them, but his mind was elsewhere. He thought of the patrol he had sent out to watch for remaining Goblins, of the food he would need to have delivered here as soon as he could, of what materials him and his people could provide the Men with and of promises and contracts that not yet was fulfilled or needed to be drawn. Petty details of an alliance.

As he walked down the camp, through the maze of scattered tent and weary people, with the sound of the winds of the north ringing in his ears and saw the sorrow and poverty, the hardened faces of both Men, Elves and Dwarves, he could only think of how much he despised greed and the Dwarves that had brought this upon them all.

Ada - father

And that was Thranduil. Any thoughts?

Next chapter will be up in a couple of days.

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