IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER! So exciting/sad/wonderful!
How difficult it is to believe that this story is coming to a close already! I hope the ending suits you all. Please enjoy!
-XXX-
He rides through the gates uneasily. It has been nearly a year since the prince has been in his homeland. Nothing has changed – yet is feels as though everything has. The trees have not altered, the air feels the same, he still knows these paths, and yet….
Legolas swallows as he nears the massive double doors that mark the threshold to his home. His parent's fortress. The seat of Greenwood.
He'd heard word from Elrond that his mother has returned home for once and for all. She would have written herself, if she knew where to send her letters. At times he felt her straining for a connection to him, passing along goodwill and hope his way. Those sentiments had warmed him on some of the longest nights of his journey.
Thranduil had reached out as well, those in a less distinct way, as though he were making sure Legolas was still there. When his mother returned, the shift in both of their emotions was dramatic and shift. Their family was in turmoil, though it was not to last. In a few months, they were whole again. Well – nearly.
He could imagine their anticipation at his return. Legolas can hardly contain his excitement – and his hesitation. "Surely things cannot just go back to the way they were."
At the bridge he dismounts, allowing a stablehand to lead his stallion away. Without a word, he moved across the bridge, towards the great hall. The throne is empty, however. In fact, the entire hall is bare. He comes across a maid in the corridor who informs him that they're at the river.
"Doing what?" he inquires, but she cannot answer him.
The elf prince dearly wishes to sleep, to bathe, to feel alive and normal again, however, he would not feel right doing so without seeing his parents first.
It takes him over a half hour to locate them. They're north of the palace, relaxing on a sunny spot of bank. Thranduil's head lies in his mother's lap, fingers laced. Both have their eyes closed, faces tilted up towards the sun.
His approach startles them, and in a few seconds they've turned towards him, eyes sharp and flashing. But soon they're stunned with pleasure.
"Legolas," his mother breathes. She's on her feet in an instant, leaving Thranduil in the grass as she rushes towards her son. He is in her arms automatically, head against her breast. Soon his hair is damp with her tears.
His father follows shortly after, sweeping them both up in an embrace. No one speaks for a long, long time.
Finally, Cala steps back, wiping away happy tears. "Oh, Legolas," she whispers, hand stroking his face. "We are so happy to have you home."
"I'm pleased you're back, too, Mother."
"Are you alright?" she asks. "All well? No injuries, or anything? Are you hungry, tired?"
"Do not overwhelm the poor boy, Cala," Thranduil chides gently.
"He's hardly a boy anymore, my love," the queen replies. "Come, Legolas, do you need anything?"
"Perhaps some rest," he admits. "But that can wait. I wanted to see you first."
"Let's feed you, then send you to bed. You've got all the time in the world to see us."
They begin the walk back to the center of the forest, Cala and Thranduil leading the way. His parents linger close to one another, Thranduil's arm tucked to Cala's. Walking a little behind them, Legolas observes their body language. It is nearly as though nothing changed between them. His mother's head tilts, resting briefly on the king's shoulder. The king has a soft smile upon his face. They're happy.
"You must tell us of your journey," Thranduil says as they descend down to the kitchens. "Once you've had rest. We are eager to hear what occurred in Mordor. And what of Strider, the new King Aragorn? We've been invited to his union with Arwen."
"So many questions, Thranduil," Cala laughs. "He'll share, in time. Let our poor boy eat."
As Legolas tucks into a steaming bowl of soup, he hides a smile, pleased that his parents have returned back to their usual selves.
-XXX-
Beriana had rushed to the palace as soon as she heard of my son's return. In the time I had been gone, they had apparently grown quite close. Legolas's guilt over Tauriel's death had pushed him into dramatic measures to comfort his surrogate aunt's family. He's spent an unorthodox amount of time with them – something I must surely be proud of.
It's only a few days after Legolas is home that she arrives. I'm in the upper gardens, setting up my hives. Thranduil called them from storage last week as a surprise for me. "You should start again," he'd said quietly. "I know how you have missed them."
He's more than right. As soon as I got the opportunity, I set about cleaning them up for their new occupants. And that's what Beriana found me doing, with my hair swept up in a messy braid, wearing old leggings and a stained tunic I'd filched from Legola's wardrobe.
"Cala," she gasps, hugging me tightly, chestnut locks messy, skirts swirling wildly. "Oh, I heard. He's home, safe and alive. I have long prayed –"
"Thank you for coming, Beriana." I pull back, placing her hands in mine. "He will be so happy to see you. Come, please."
She follows me to the guardsman's keep, where we find my son outside of one of the rings, watching a few young elves duke it out with swords. He looks tense – an aura he hasn't lost since he's arrived home, really – but relaxes marginally upon seeing myself and his aunt. He embraces Beriana readily.
"I have missed you, Aunt Beriana. How are you?"
"Me?" she says. "I've not been the one off to war. How have you fared?"
I can tell the exchange pains both of them. Memories of Tauriel linger just on the surface of their conversation.
Ulain appears from the weaponry across the yard. He smiles gently at us, coming to clasp my son on the shoulder.
As they talk, I drift into the background. Legolas would lend them some comfort that I have long sought to give them. I've got not place in this moment.
Leaving them, I seek my husband. He's in his study, peering over several thick documents, a map pinned to the wall behind him. I pause at the door to watch him for a few moments.
He has regained the strength and energy to maintain his illusion. It took plenty of time and patients, various concoctions of Fortesbrawn's making. Nearly as good as new, he still requires a little more rest than usual. I've done my best in monitoring him to ensure he's not working himself too hard – something that a king might easily do after being bedridden for so many weeks. Fortunately, Thranduil seems to actually take the healer's advice for once, and rests regularly.
We've gotten better since I first arrived. When Legolas returned, he took me aside to express how happy he was to see us reunited. "Normal," he'd said. It was testimony to me that we are finally back to the way we should be. I mentioned as much to my husband. He blinked at me, confused. "Of course," Thranduil had agreed. "I knew that."
"Cala," he says abruptly, noticing me. "Come."
I enter slowly, smiling as I approach his desk. "Hello, my love."
"I thought you were cleaning the garden out for your hives?" He pushes a few pieces of parchment around on the desk. "Did the bees scare you off?"
"Hardly," I scoff. "No, Beriana came. She wanted to see Legolas. They're in the training yard now."
"Why did you not stay?"
I sigh. "She and Ulain needed to see him. He gives them great comfort."
Thranduil winces. "Yes. Tauriel…."
Being back in Greenwood certainly reminds of the fiery maiden. Sometimes, when walking in our forest, I catch a glimmer of copper that teases for a moment. It is as though the woods wish to give me some kind of solace. "She's honored here," the trees seem to reassure me.
"We are fortunate," I tell him. I can feel tears well up within my throat. "Legolas lived through a war much greater than the battle at Erebor."
"We are indeed." He's solemn. "You still hold guilt, Cala. You need to let it go. Beriana has forgiven you, Legolas has forgiven you, Fortesbrawn is getting there –"
"And have you forgiven me?"
The king smiles, reaching for me as he moves around the desk. "Have I?"
"I hope so." I allow myself to be held. "If not, I'd be quite disappointed."
"We can't have that." He kisses my nose. "I forgive you, Cala. We've all forgiven you."
-XXX-
He feels different. Better. Better than he has felt in years. Heart lighter, head clearer. Thranduil will not attribute this solely to the return of his wife and son, but they've certainly contributed to this new energy.
His court recognizes this too. For the first time in over two centuries, his elves feel free to speak. Cala's presence in court has lead to a measure of unease, but once she has been reinstalled the court is far more relaxed. She has a touch on him and their elves that suddenly makes the affairs of court less of a thorn in his side. Versquire and the others on council make remarks on the change. He ignores their praises in favor of Fortesbrawn's wisdom.
"You've improved significantly," he says sagely. "They no longer feel the need to tip-toe around you. Whether it's her influence or your own senses, it doesn't matter. Just don't allow yourself to fall into this dark hole again. Cala can only make your overcome your pigheadness for so long."
The king takes the jab in stride.
He opens up routes of communication with the dwarf kings once more at Legolas's urgings, and even sends a note of thanks to Elrond, Lorien, and the kings of Rohan and Gondor When their responses are announced in court, Cala cannot contain herself – she beams uncontrollably. Not all of his nobles react the same way, however. Several are quite disgruntled, and speak up to say as much. He replies coldly to them.
"It is high time we rejoin the rest of the world. No longer are we to be shrouded, a forest isle, alone. We are going to be a part of Arda again."
Later, after he dismisses the courtiers, Cala finds him musing on his throne in an empty hall.
"What caused you to change your mind?" she asks softly.
He looks up from examining his hands. "Cala?"
She waits for the answer. Thranduil adjusts his crown, considering before answering.
"It was high time," he replies, gaze cast out towards the river. "We've been kept apart from our brethren and the rest of the realm for too long. It did not serve us well in the conflicts that lead to this war."
His wife is quiet for a long time. Then, slowly, she approaches the throne, weaving her way across the ancient stone, then up the stairs. Stopping just before him, Cala offers a hand. He accepts.
"You were right," he says. "I need to consider the whole of the land over my realm. I should have done this long before we were crippled by Sauron."
She says nothing. Instead, Cala kisses his hand, resting it against her cheek. He waits.
"I think you are doing the right thing. Damn what the others may say."
Thranduil smiles. "I am pleased you support me in this."
"Just as any good queen should – when her husband is making sound decisions, of course." She tilts her head. "Thank you, Thranduil."
He rises, ready to end his duties for the day. He kisses her temple, leading them down and out of the hall. It has been a long day, and he needs some time to relax with his wife.
-XXX-
"…We are set to sail out in over two year's time. I know this seems like a delay, but we feel like there is too much left for us to do. We need to rebuild before we can leave this land behind. We can leave the Men with that much.
I hope you have found it within yourself to forgive me, Cala. As I said before you left, you are family to us. I could not bare the thought of us being estranged. Please let me know if we are well again.
Elrond"
"Auntie Cala,
I hope this letter will see you well. We are dearly wishing to see you, Legolas and your husband at our wedding in two month's time. My father will be joining us too….
Please write back soon. I miss you terribly. Estel sends his love,
Arwen "
I press the parchment to my breast. To hear from both of them warms my heart greatly. Truly, I have missed the pair, and the twins, a great deal since coming back to Greenwood. Thankfully, Arwen's wedding will soon be upon us. Thranduil has agreed to attend with me, so that he might see our cousins united and support Estel in his new throne. Maybe then we shall see Elrond, and all will be right between us. There is little in the realm I could want more at this time.
-XXX-
My insects are making such a racket I entirely miss the approach of soft shoes upon the stone. He surprises me as bustle between hives, cooing to my fuzzy creatures, adjusting this and that, pulling out slaps of comb for examination. Having not kept bees for nearly 250 years, I feel a little rusty at the practice; but at the same time it feels entirely natural. Like breathing.
Distracted breathing. I am so engrossed in listening to my bees that the slight touch on my shoulder sends me shouting out of shock. I whip 'round to see the merry, crinkled eyes of Gandalf. He stands back, leaning on his staff to regard me.
"Why, Gandalf!" I gasp. "You scared me to pieces!"
"My apologies, your highness," he says, amused. "I mistook your focus. You were not ignoring me, but rather quite involved with your bees. Please forgive me."
"Of course." Dusting off my skirts, I volunteer tea or a hot meal. "I've no idea where you've come from, but we can happily accommodate any need you may have."
"Perhaps later. I should like to catch up with you for the moment. How fares the Great Greenwood?"
I smile. "Quite well, I should think, now that it has its monarchs and heir reinstalled. Really, I should be asking after you, Gandalf. After all, you just finished with a war, did you not? And rather impressively too – rumor says you even died at one point! I congratulate you on your success and bravery."
The old wizard bows his head modestly. "Tis only what needed being done. I am glad the realm is safe for the time being from the clutches of those like Sauron and Saruman."
"We travel next week to Gondor to celebrate Arwen and Aragorn's wedding. Shall we see you there?"
"Indeed you shall." The wizard pauses as one of my fat, glossy bees lands upon his staff. Reaching out, I stroke its velvety back before coaxing it to instead occupy my finger.
"Be polite to guests," I scold. Gandalf smiles serenely.
"It is too good to see you back here, in your element, my lady. Erlea or Caladhiel, you are suited to the bees. "
"I have forgotten you knew my mother's name for me," I say wistfully. "It has been a long time since I've heard it. But come, Gandalf, you've known me since I was an mere beekeeper living in a cottage at the edge of the northern wood. I can be nothing but 'Cala' to you."
"Ah, but you were never any 'mere' beekeeper," he protests.
"Perhaps not," I allow. "Please, come inside. My family will be pleased to see you. Legolas does think the world of you. I don't know where you are currently headed, but they wouldn't forgive me if I did not at least try to bring you back with me."
"If my lady requests it, I shall happily oblige." There is a pause. "My lady, do not forget your friend."
My bee is still on my hand, contentedly basking in the sunlight. I laugh, then gently carry the creature to a nearby lily, whispering to encourage it onto the white petals. Behind me, Gandalf watches, amused.
"You certainly have a way with them," he says as we start towards the fortress.
"Or perhaps they have a way with me."
He smiles widely as we continue on. A comfortable silence falls between us, and we allow the slight gloom of the wood to take and carry us onwards, until we finally reach gates.
-XXX-
My husband watches me move through the room lightly. I lift a happy hand to
all that I encounter. My smile never stops. Others may be uncomfortable in my presence, but no one can say that I am ill-at-ease. I am the queen. This is where I belong.
There is dancing tonight, but I do not make to partake of it, except when my son begs for my hand.
"One turn about the room," he pleads earnestly. "I've not gotten to dance with you in so long."
"Legolas, you shouldn't tease your mother. There are plenty of young elliths who would be quite thrilled to have a dance with the prince."
But he shakes his head, resolute. "They can have their dance after I've had mine. Mother, please?"
I finally agree, and let him lead me onto the polished floors. We turn about the room one, two, three times before he sweeps me away from the crowd and behind a row of columns strung with tapestries where Thranduil is waiting. He wears no crown nor his heavy velvet robes – they have been discarded nearby on a bench.
"Thank you," he tells Legolas. My son grins impishly. I turn to him, wanting t ask what he means by this, but the boy disappears. Turning back to Thranduil, I find myself suddenly caught up in his arms.
"Is this familiar?" the king asks me.
It takes a moment, but as soon as I recognize the setting, I laugh, covering my mouth. "It does," I cry. "What are you doing, you silly, sentimental elf?"
He spins me around, pressing closer as we dance through the aisle. Thranduil cannot stop smiling.
"I do not think is particularly silly, though perhaps a little sentimental," he murmurs. "Do you like it?"
"Yes. I'm surprised. You're being a romantic."
At this, the king laughs. He kisses my brow abruptly, squeezing my hands.
"I will admit, I do not think I knew of my love for you on this night," he says.
"And yet you freely followed me. Tell me, why did you do follow me, back then? First in the woods, then later, here?"
Thranduil shrugs. "I cannot say I know what forced pull me back here. I merely knew I needed to follow you. Is that so terribly silly, Cala?"
"Yes," I reply in mock seriousness. "It is a true wonder they gave the crown to such a fantastical elf."
Another kiss. I enthusiastically respond. When we part, I press my forehead to his and we simply breath. The dancing has stopped for us, but I can hear the party raging on just beyond our barrier of tapestries and stone columns. I am glad to be apart from it.
"I would not have guessed," he begins lowly. "On that night over three thousand years ago that we would have ever ended up here. I could not have dreamed this up."
"Nor I."
"But it is a most welcome dream."
"I would most certainly have to agree."
Thranduil kisses me again. I sigh into it, enjoying the warmth of my husband's arm, and uncaring of what occurs beyond our small bubble of happiness. The night wears on, and while we do eventually return to the party to mingle among the others, I never feel apart from the king.
-XXX-
I did change the time of Arwen and Estel's wedding, forgive me.
Well, m'dears, this is the end. I greatly appreciate all of the support you've shown me on my first venture into the LOTR fandom. It's been a wonderful experience for me. Thank you for sharing it.
I've got another two pieces in the works – far shorter, perhaps around 10 chapters. One will be within the Harry Potter fandom and the other the Lord of the Rings fandom. Give them a shot if you are interested!
As always, please feel free to review or PM with any questions or comments!