Keeper 19
Wow, what a response! I am sorry to scare several of you into reviewing! I mean, that could've also been the sad-drama business.
I promised a while ago that I'd post a timeline, so here it is!
Second Age
Story starts in 3433 – Three years after Alliance of Elves and Men.
Chapter 3 brings us to 3434, the year of Oropher's death. Cala is forced move into palace. Within the year Oropher is killed. Dagorlad
3435 - Thranduil ascends to the throne, withdrawing personally from the battle. Only a 3rd of his troops remain.
3441 – war is over
Third Age:
1 – Beriana and Ulain marry.
2- Kalock is born
4 – Re-introduction
7 – Marriage at end of summer
887 – Legolas is born
1050 – Sauron takes southern Mirkwood, Tauriel is born
1999 – Erebor is founded
2510 – Celebrian leaves
2690 – Relations between dwarves of Erebor and Mirkwood falter.
2770 – Smaug attacks Erebor.
-XXX-
It is late evening when I approach Legolas. He lets me in his rooms without question, appearing less than comfortable. I drift inside, sitting at the far side of the room, before the window. The leaded glass is inset with a few colorful shards, creating patters of ivy and yellowy flowers.
"How is Father?" he asks immediately, joining me.
"The king is doing well. He should be completely to himself by tomorrow. It was not a bad wound, thankfully."
"And Tauriel?"
"About the same." A small lie – she was only a little worse, though she will pull through.
Legolas nods, pensive. We both know that Thranduil and Tauriel were very fortunate – many other elves suffered far worse injuries. Fatal ones. I thank Valar that Legolas had not accompanied his father on this patrol. A knot of emotion wells up in my throat and I abruptly hug my son to me. Though he is now over a thousand, he's still my boy. Legolas returns the embrace, burying his head in my neck, hiding in my hair as he had as a child. I stroke his head, murmuring.
"He'll be fine, my love. There were many who stood between your father and the spiders. And he fought bravely."
"If I had been there –" He cuts off, choked. "If I had been there, they wouldn't –"
I squeeze his shoulders. "No, if you had been with them you would be among the dead. I know you would have killed yourself protecting Tauriel and your father. Then you would have a mother and a father mourning. Do not fault yourself, Legolas."
The young elf sighs. I kiss his brow.
"That was not why I sought you out, however," I begin softly. "I need to ask you something Legolas, and I need you to listen without growing angry with me. I have considered this for sometime."
Warily, he agrees. "What troubles you, Mother?"
I am very hesitant. The words are not easy to say aloud. "This is not a decision I have made easily. I am going to leave the Greenwood, Legolas."
For a moment, I can see a younger vision of my son in his disbelief and fear. A child. He cannot speak for some time, simply blinking at me. "What do you mean?" he whispers. "You are queen."
I take up his hands. "I am," I agree quietly.
He shakes his head. "But you cannot go. What of the forest, of Father?" Legolas recoils when my eyes flash. "You love ada."
"Oh Legolas, of course I do. I have family and friends I loathe to leave. But I cannot go on here. I need some distance. I've sent a falcon to Rivendell, requesting refuge. Lord Elrond will let me stay for a while, at least." The lie comes easily. I haven't sent anything to Rivendell in years.
"Why? Why must you go?"
What to say? How do I explain the ripping pain in my chest anytime I think of Thranduil? It takes me a moment to find the words.
"Your father and I disagree on how we might handle the growing problem of our southern wood. It has been fostering discontent between us for some time."
"Surely this is not enough to merit leaving. Mother, do you…not love ada anymore?"
He sounds like a child, nervous and scared, eyes wide. I squeeze his hands, feeling tears blossom in the corners of my eyes.
"I love him, and you, and the Greenwood as much as ever. I simply cannot stand by and watch as the forest I love succumbs to darkness." I'm fighting back tears now. "There is a distance between us. It will not be mended soon."
"More distance can surely not help?"
"I do not think it shall," I agree. "But perhaps it might give us perspective."
"You cannot go," he says desperately. "Think of our people…how will it seem to them? And Father, he will be beside himself with grief."
"I am leaving for them." I sigh. "I cannot watch as more die both within our forest and out of it as a result of Thranduil's pride. I cannot stay."
Head against my bosom, Legolas sighs. "I cannot stop you."
"No," I agree, kissing his head. "You cannot."
We sit
"When shall you leave?"
"The day after tomorrow."
His grip on my hands tighten. "Soon. So soon after Father and Tauriel – are you sure you want to go when they are both recovering, Mother?"
"It needs to be now." Thranduil is weak. If I do not go now, he will ride for me. And if he pursues me, I will return. I take a breath. "Come with me?"
Legolas draws back. "What?"
"Accompany me to Rivendell. Stay, just for a little while. Once I am there, I highly doubt your father will allow much beyond correspondence."
He hesitates. I look out the window. The sun is sinking beneath the horizon, casting a golden haze across the line of black trees. A few birds are cast as silhouettes against the dimming sky. I wonder when I'll observe a sunset over the Greenwood again. Will it be a few week? Month? Or possibly years?
"I will ride with you to Rivendell," he finally says. "And return to the Greenwood after a day or two."
Knowing that I will not go alone lifts a weight from my shoulders. I embrace my son, sighing. There is still much to do, and only a day to accomplish it.
-XXX-
The morning comes. I wake with my husband's arms around my middle, my face buried in his chest. I rise slowly, pulling on my silk robe, sitting on the edge for a while. Thranduil is still in bed, dozing – he woke when I pull myself from bed. I rise with a light sigh, drawing my robe tighter. I pour myself a cup of water from a carafe. Slowly, I drink, keeping my eyes on the window. There is a sudden rustle behind me. I turn just as hands slide onto my waist. Thranduil's chin rests on my shoulder as he tugs me close.
"You are up early."
"Couldn't really sleep," I answer quietly. "I'm sorry if I woke you."
"It is no matter." He kisses my neck, drawing a small breathless noise from me. Smiling into my skin, he murmurs, "Come back to bed."
"Just for a minute. I need to tend to the bees." There is nothing unusual in this. Often when I cannot sleep I go to visit the insect. At the lie, my heart aches at the thought of leaving them. I've spoken to Arhiel about caring for them. She and Beriana will keep them well, I think.
The king nods, leading me to the four-poster, pulling back the curtains. He lies down, and I follow after, curling against him. We lace fingers, silent, looking at our combined limbs. Thranduil meets my eyes, his crystalline gaze impassive. I wonder what he reads in me.
His face is perfect again. Energy back, he rebuilt the illusion. If I tilt my head the right way, I can see the shimmer of magic, but only just. I reach out to stroke the marred skin. His eyes flicker shut, breath teasing my wrist.
We are not mended. Not even close. But we've both reached some kind of unspoken agreement to ignore the argument of the previous day. Thranduil simply decided we wouldn't discuss it. Together, we went on as though nothing had changed. Yet so much had – though, whether Thranduil is aware of this, I do not know. Surely he must.
My fingers trail along my husband's cheeks, nose, eyelids, and jaw. Memorizing what I shall not see again for sometime. Thranduil's eyes open when my hand rests against the curve of his jaw. I lean forward to kiss him. Thranduil responds with a languid manner, slipping his skin against mine, nuzzling my neck. Gently, he pins me to the mattress, sitting back to gaze at me before he returns to his ministrations. In time, I am arching into him, breathing heavily, twisting against the sheets.
In time, he stills, sliding back to lay level beside me. For a while we simply lay together, watching one another. Thranduil strokes my hair, pushing it from my face. I feel my eyes drifting shut. "That won't do." I struggle to stay awake, attempting to persuade Thranduil into sleep once more.
It takes some time for him to fall into a doze. Once I am assured that he's unconscious, I slip from bed again. Last night I had packed. Removing the bag from the wardrobe, I scramble to dress in a plain slate-blue tunic and brown breeches, lacing up soft riding boots and plait back my hair. Once I am ready I make to go, pausing at the door for only a moment. I wish to give Thranduil one last kiss before I depart. However, I cannot risk him waking. So, instead, I kiss the tips of my fingers, holding the aloft. Then, silent, I turn and walk out of our room.
I head to the kitchens, where I raid the pantry unquestioned by the staff. Well, most of the staff. Marnilieh peers curiously over my shoulder as I stuff my bag with apples, bread, dried meat, and cheese.
"Planning a breakfast picnic?"
"Ah, yes. A surprise, for his highness," I reply hastily.
"Romanic," the cook sighs. "Nearly three thousand years, and you two still have the spark."
Smiling tightly, I nod. "If he comes seeking me, tell him I've gone to tend to the hives," I suggest.
"Of course, my lady."
I meet Legolas in the stables. We'd setting off from the palace, rather than meeting discreetly in the forest – it would be sneakier, certainly. But I figured that it would give us a bit of time if Thranduil believed I was simply lost in the woods after deciding to take an early morning ride. It was not unheard of in these woods. He would spend time searching within the Greenwood instead of expanding Westward. All the better for us.
The attending stablehand scrambles to bow before me. I smile gently. As queen, I've had to do a lot of that, reassuring expressions to show people I wasn't some tyrant. Thranduil held a different theory. He preferred to appear impassive.
The boy helps me mount my gelding, a gentle grey creature nearly fifteen hands high. Legolas does not require aid in climbing atop his massive bay mare.
We set off at a leisurely pace, only picking up speed when the mouth of the underground realm is beyond our sight. With heavy hearts, we ride.
It takes us nearly a day to reach the boarder. It is well past dark when we pass through the twisting antler-like gates that mark the entrance to the forest. We set up camp along the edge of trees, speaking little, just as we'd done all day. I appreciate the comfortable silence I can share with my son – the same silence his father and I can rest within.
"Thranduil." The thought of my husband gives my heart to aching. I attempt to cast away all thoughts of him as I start the small fire we shall use for dinner. We're ravenous, having not eaten since morning, fearing that to stop and do so would only give the guard more time on us.
I wonder if they have set out a search patrol yet. I wonder if they've yet picked up on the fact that we're not within the forest.
He knows Legolas would have a difficult time getting lost in the forest. I'm another matter, for I am less familiar with the eastern side, which is where they shall think we were headed. A midday rain might excuse us for getting a little turned around or stuck, but I suspect it won't take more than a few hours of searching and turning up nothing of value for Thranduil to suspect something is afoot.
We shall be safe for the evening. As we eat, I examine the map I filched from the library. By my estimations, it will take us just under a week to reach Rivendell. Legolas agrees with my estimate.
I can see it pains him to leave the forest – one of only a handful of times for him – especially with Tauriel still so weak.
"It is my duty to guard these woods," he tells me, poking the fire with a stick. "I feel as though I am turning my back on the Greenwood."
"You shall return," I say confidently. "Legolas, I would not have asked you to join me if I thought the journey would hurt the wood."
"But it is," he says, bright cerulean eyes locking onto mine. "For what is the Greenwood without a Queen?"
I stiffen. "There is still a king sitting on the throne."
"Yes, no doubt, a heartsick monarch longing for his wife and son!"
Icily, I regard him. "You did not have to accompany me, Legolas."
He stands, kicking up dirt as he paces within the light of our fire. "Yes, but I couldn't allow you to do this on your own." Legolas stops, drawing in breath. "Do you not think you are being a little rash, Mother?"
"You wish for me to turn back now?"
He is silent, staring into the flame. I shake my head.
"I know you don't understand why I do this, Legolas. All you need to know is that I must. I appreciate that you've come with me this far, but if you need to go…do so. I shan't stop you." I watch him, hopeful that he might put away his anger and hear me out. "And I shall not be the least upset. It was a lot to ask you to accompany me. I should've realized how it might feel as though it's tearing you apart –"
"No, I told you I would come." The corner of his mouth upturns. "You would not last a day out here without me, Mother."
My own lips quirk. "That is true enough."
-XXX-
We sleep, waking before the sun has broken over the horizon, going forth just as the pink-orange hues begin to light the visible land. Our days long, nights short. We stop just before dusk, giving Legolas enough time to hunt. He brings back squirrels, hares, occasionally some fish if the land-creatures do not yield.
Another two days we ride before we can hear their hooves echoing behind ours, and feel the hot breath of the Greenwood patrol rolling down our neck. It is just at the base of the Mountains of Moria where they find us.
We are on the crest of a ridge when it happens. I'm peering over the map, attempting to calculate the best point of entry of the mountain range, looking for a pass, a shallower point, something, when Legolas seems to freeze beside me. I glance up at him, seeing that his eyes are locked on something below us. I follow his gaze.
Between the trees, just over a mile from us, can be seen the mounts of several Greenwood patrolsmen. They do not wear the full silver armor of a normal traveling party. Instead, they are in the lighter leathers, which not only are more comfortable, but blend into the forest colors and are less of a burden on horses. They appear to be moving quietly, slinking through the trees like silent shadows.
Shadows headed straight for us.
"Mount quietly," Legolas advises under his breath. "We'll maintrain the high ground. Head for the ravine." He points out the location on the map. "There look to be paths high enough to allow us time to find some rocky crevasse to sit low in for a while. Quickly, Mother."
I mount hurriedly, pulling up the hood of my cloak. Once we are both steady on our horses, we take off, riding along the ridge. It's not ideal – being so high up, we are easily spotted – but we at least hold the high ground. I feel at least moderately confident that we shall not be found.
Panic doesn't set in until I hear a low call from below. I do not turn back, but I can tell by the way Legolas squares his shoulders that we've been spotted. Wordless, he snaps his reigns, willing his mare forward. I follow suit, encouraging Flick, my grey gelding, onward. We race through the trees, Legolas holding the lead. It is lucky, because I quickly grow disoriented by the blur of green and brown. He's a good horseman, and I trust his lead without a second thought.
We halt at a outcropping of rock, indicating the start of the ravine. Our mounts huff, partially in exhaustion and impatience. We are lucky it is still early in the day; any later, and I doubt they would ride so hard for us.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy hooves is upon us. Legolas's eyes meet mine.
"Go, Mother," he urges, gesturing for the ravine. "We ought to split up. I'll draw them away over here. You keep going. Once you're high enough, stop riding and lead Flick on by foot. They won't find you if you keep going on, though if you hear them find cover. They'll be looking for you to run."
I wish to kiss him, to say goodbye, something – who knows when we shall see each other again? – but time is of the essence. I must go. Wordlessly, I impart a look of final, desperate love upon him before I flee.
They shall not hurt him. Thranduil will be angry, but he shan't harm a hair on our boy's head. He couldn't.
-XXX-
When they crashed through the thicket, it had been Cala he'd expected to find. Cala, not his wayward son, sheepishly holding his bow aloft in a loose defense. The patrol surrounds him, hooves stomping as they rest in a circle around the young elf.
Thranduil, who has trailed behind, enters the circle last, brows high. He's far from pleased, but maintains an impassive gaze upon his only son. The young elf is surprised to see his father – he must have assumed the king was too ill to join the party. "And perhaps I was." That hadn't stopped Thranduil, despite Fortesbrawn's vocal protests.
"Do you think I could just let her go without seeing to her myself?" the king had snarled as the healer stood before him, arms crossed. A stablehand was outfitting him in armor. He did not normally require much aid. The weight was unpleasant in his weakened state.
"You could die!" the healer squawked. "Suppose your stitches come out and you bleed to death? Suppose you get an infection from that river water?"
"You could come with me."
Fortesbrawn hesitates. "I will not encourage you to go."
"Very well." Thranduil tugged on his gloves, teeth gritted savagely. "I'll get her myself. She won't have reason to question me, after this."
"Oh, right," scoffed Fortesbrawn. "Because it's not the least bit questionable that you're putting your health and safety at risk by riding after her on a whim. If I can question you I've no doubt she will."
The king spun. "What am I supposed to do?" he had seethed. "Let her go? Let her flee with Legolas? I'd rather have her here, angry and not speaking to me, than out there with the wrags, spiders, and the Orcs." He was breathless with rage. "I'd have her by my side - willing or not - over dead any day."
"She's going to Lorien or Rivendell," Fortesbrawn soothed. "With Legolas. She is hardly unprotected. Your son could single-handedly take on an entire pack of wrags."
"I hope to find them before that becomes a threat."
The healer hesitated. As the stablehand clasps the cloak onto Thranduil's breastplate, Frotesbrawn asked, "What if she will not come? She might refuse."
The king's eye darkened. "I will not accept any kind of refusal. She's come, even if she screams all the way back to our woods."
With that, he swept out of the room. The healer shuddered. Less than halfway down the corridor, Thranduil had to stop, wincing. "Oh, this shall not be easy."
"I suppose I ought not be surprised that she convinced you to join in this scheme of hers," he intones after a pause. "Mothers and son hold such a close bond. But I am surprised that you saw fit to abandon her in the midst of the chase."
Legolas shrugs. "I got tired of running."
Thranduil restrains a smile, replacing it with the slightest of sighs. "Where is your mother, boy?"
The elf's chin juts forward, eyes solid, hands curling into fists. He nonverbally expresses his commitment to not revealing his mother's location. Thranduil's jaw tightens. The king and prince share in a brief, but intense, staring match before the king breaks away, turning to the lead of the patrol.
"Head towards the mountains. There was a ravine pass near where they split, I have no doubt she went for it. Send a team to scale the walls and another the floor. I will meet you closer to midday, then I will be escorting the prince back to the Greenwood."
"You'll not look for her yourself?" Legolas asks, incredulous. "Your own wife?"
Thranduil spare him a withering glance. "Why don't you spare me the trouble and tell me where she is?" At the young elf's silence, the king chuckles mirthlessly. "I will find her, in time, Legolas. Myself or the guard, it will not matter."
"But you will not go yourself."
The king stiffens. "She does not wish to see me. It is the very reason why your foolish, feather-brained emel decided to leave our forest. I shall respect her wishes, then. Let others seek her out. She will return to us, if not of her own volition, then of mine."
It is in those words that Legolas could truly begin to see the traces of artfully concealed rage. Hurt and alone, the King of the Mirkwood Forest was using his composure to hide the barely-processed emotion that came from being abandoned by one's wife. The prince was struck with a sudden regret, beyond what he'd imagined feeling. His ada was far from fine.
But he'd made a vow to his mother. A vow he took quite seriously.
"I cannot help you," he says, bowing his head.
"It matters not. We shall find her." Though his lips curled and his tone was confident, there was an edge of uncertainty in the king's voice that his son caught as he turned back to his stag.
-XXX-
Using various maps, I guesstimated the distance between the center of Mirkwood to Rivendell to be right around 200 miles. Put another two days on top of that with the mountains in the way, and the average distance a horse can cover safely (30 miles a day, 50 if you allow them frequent rest), it would take a person approximately 6 days to reach Rivendell from Mirkwood.
Reviews are welcome as always!