Chapter 8 – The Calm
It was late in the evening, long past the usual hours one would normally lay down to rest but not quite early enough be called morning. Elrohir was unable to find any comfort beneath the safe covers of his bed. His mind was clouded with worry over his brother's state and with fear, fear of having another vision. Elrohir's heart could not handle watching his brother fade whether it be in conscious reality or as a dream.
So Elrohir took to wandering the dark halls of the stone palace in hopes that the effect of a brisk walk could clear his troubled mind. He would never openly admit it but he always found the caves of Mirkwood be rather daunting. If one did not know where they were going they could forever become lost in the Elvenking's labyrinth of cold stone.
He remembered his first visit to Mirkwood, or rather Greenwood the Great as it was called at the time, there had been no great stone palace. The forest had been filled with light and beauty, the greatest of forests in all of Arda. Thranduil and his kin had lived amongst the trees in structures similar to those of Galadriel and Celeborn. Every trip since he had taken to Greenwood, the forest progressively changed, become vastly different than that from the previous visit. Until on one visit it came to be known as Mirkwood, baring no resemblance to its former self.
On his walk, lost in his thoughts Elrohir found himself at junction between two caverns and decided to go left. The cavern seemed to turn dimmer. Not quite comfortable with being completely surrounded by rock, Elrohir was just about to turn back when he suddenly found himself walking through a large courtyard, a large open garden contained within the vast walls of impenetrable stone.
Vines of ivy and climbing roses of pale moonlight scaled the thick granite walls, bushes and flowers of every color, some of the likes of which Elrohir had never seen before were spread across the soft moss covered ground. But of all the magnificent things contained within this garden, none were more spectacular than The Tree, growing tall, out from the centre. It's branches hung like a blanket of warm deep green leaves, lovingly protecting the flora beneath.
Though it was mid-winter the tree contained its large leaves, everlasting, not abiding to the frost filled air. White star shaped flowers danced among the branches. Elrohir stood there in a state of mixed fascination and awe. He had never seen a tree more beautiful.
A soft whisper carried by the light breeze made its way to Elrohir's ears.
"The palace was built around this tree. In times of great peril we needed something more than ourselves to protect."
Elrohir had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed that he was not alone. He turned towards the direction of the soft voice. The Elvenking sat upon a white bench beneath the tree with the lower hanging branches partially shielding him from view.
"I beg your forgiveness, your Majesty. I mean not to intrude," Elrohir stammered out, realizing he must be in one of Thranduil's private gardens.
Thranduil kindly smiled. "Elbereth's joy belongs to us all. Please come join me," he said motioning towards the spot next to him.
Elrohir smiled, accepting the King's invitation.
"Elrohir you need not keep calling me 'your Majesty'. I am King of the Silvan only because my people afforded me that position. I only lead because they wish to follow," Thranduil stated. "A Sindar Lord, yes I am, but no Thingol am I."
"Thranduil, you are too humble," Elrohir replied. "Are Sindar and Silvan not one in the same? Both chose to stay rather then make the great journey, it's just a matter of where you stopped along the path that determines what you are called. And even so, you are both wise and just, as great as any Noldor King."
"A Kingship, which rightfully belongs to Elrond," Thranduil replied, smiling warmly at the twin's compliment. Elrohir was alike his father in many ways. "A peculiar world we live where I, a Lord am called King, and your Father, both the rightful Noldor High King and true heir to the Sindar throne is only called a Lord," he said thoughtfully. "At first I begrudged Elrond for not taking claim to throne, his birth right, but sometimes I feel his choice was the wiser one," Thranduil said gravely.
"Is something amiss Thranduil? I have not known you to be so sentimental," Elrohir exclaimed in surprise, turning to face the Elvenking. His breath caught in his chest, Thranduil seemed to glow, emitting the warmth and essence of a star.
"The shadow of Mirkwood lays heavy upon my shoulders," Thranduil solemnly replied. There was something different about the way Thranduil spoke that Elrohir just couldn't quite place, concerning him, but he wisely chose not to speak of it.
The pair sat there in a comfortable silence, the light evening breeze sporadically brought the delightful smell of blossoms to their noses, enlightening their senses, filling them with warmth. Thranduil took in the elf sitting next to him. His keen eyes missed no detail. The normally fair and bright face from memory was masked by lingering despair and worry. The light of peaceful innocence was gone from his eyes.
"You are deeply troubled, my friend," the Elvenking acknowledged. "A trouble that you did not bring with you but rather gained, for you would not be roaming the halls otherwise," he remarked. "Has the forest's shadow already breeched your gentle heart?"
"A shadow has breeched my heart long ago, but tis not from the forest."
"Your Mother." Thranduil whispered.
"Yes," Elrohir confirmed. There was a tremble to his voice that hoped Thranduil didn't catch.
"Celebrían, I mourned for my dear cousin, just as I mourn for my beloved," Thranduil confessed.
Elrohir lifted his head at Thranduil's words. It was then he realized that Thranduil had lost much too. More than he ever had. For the Elvenking's eyes were the same as his Fathers. Though Elrohir had been alive for over two millennia he suddenly felt very young. Perhaps more young in experience than age, for he had never known pain and sorrow such as this before, where his Father and Thranduil, being born in the first age had grown up surrounded by it. Though he had learned and seen much on his hunt for revenge.
"A heavy shadow has been cast upon Arda, slowly laying siege upon her lands," Elrohir said bitterly. "Ever slowly, I fear darkness shall return." He spoke with such powerful emotion that Thranduil turned towards him and was pierced by the intensity and fire of Elrohir's gaze.
"Aye," Thranduil responded, he knew all too well what the twin was referring to. "But Elrohir, do not be so quick as to lose hope. There is still light left in this world," Thranduil said. "You just have to know where to seek it.
"Legolas lost his mother only six summers ago. He was with her when it happened," he spoke softly, his voice barely reaching a whisper. "Though the details are still a mystery. By some small mercy he was found along the banks of the Enchanted River and has little memory of her or her death. Only in nightmares – shadows and visions he cannot not yet comprehend or understand, does he remember."
"I am sorry," Elrohir said remorsefully. Part of him couldn't help but to feel guilty. He mourned his mother who was still alive, where Legolas had none.
"Legolas is strong," Thranduil said. "He does not know it but he is a source of light for many in this time of growing fear and shadow. Having an elfling running about shows the warriors there is still light left in Mirkwood. The young give us hope for the future, something to protect and cherish."
Legolas amazed Elrohir. A child so small, who had endured so much, was so strong and compassionate. He realized then how thankful he was that he had memory of his mother. He could remember her laugh, her smile as if she were at that moment right next to him. He was thankful those precious moments had not been taken away from him.
"I still worry for him," Thranduil said, as a light breeze blew through the air. "No child should have to endure such shadow. I wonder how it affects his soul. He can feel the shadow no less than anyone else can. The only difference is he cannot fully understand it. I wonder what kind of elf he will grow to become."
Elrohir smiled at yesterday's memory, little Legolas proclaiming how he wants to become a warrior so he can protect everyone. "You are raising him well," Elrohir confirmed. For if Elrohir were to have a little one of his own, he would hope for one to be like Legolas. "Legolas is the youngest elfling I know of," Elrohir added in afterthought.
"Aye, he is one of the last born in Mirkwood. Before Dol Guldur, Greenwood was filled with the laughter of many elflings. Those times were peaceful and filled with such beauty. Now we have no more than thirty, scattered throughout the Northern forest, hidden amongst the trees by their families. They are all precious to us, Legolas more so than any. A symbol of hope for his kingdom."
"It is rare for Elladan to smile these days, near Legolas it is impossible not to," Elrohir declared. Legolas was that sort of spark of life, of light that Elladan and he had been missing out on, on their hunt.
"He tends to have that effect," Thranduil said. He paused before continuing in a more somber tone, " Elrohir, I am concerned for your brother."
"Aye," Elrohir said. "I do not know what to do anymore," he chocked out. "Elladan is slowly falling into shadow. I feel so helpless," he said, clenching his fists. "And-" Elrohir stopped.
"And?" Thranduil softly prodded.
"And I had a vision. He is going to fade and I will be the cause of it," Elrohir whispered as tears softly ran down his cheeks. Thranduil was slightly taken aback. To see the twins who were once so full of light become tormented by such shadow.
"Are you sure that is what the vision was actually showing you?" Thranduil questioned, visibly concerned. "Tell me what you saw, a different perspective may help decipher its true meaning."
"He was laying in a bed – motionless and I was grieving over him. The emotions and thoughts hit me so strongly, as if they were my own thoughts and feelings. I am afraid. Elladan thinks it is folly, but why would I have such a vision if it would not come to pass?" he said, brushing the tears away from his eyes.
"There is still hope. It was your father's belief that the Valar granted him visions to either both correct and change their outcome, or to set the paving stones leading towards that ideal future. Your visions grant you a choice. Somewhere along your path you will reach a point where your actions will either lead towards that vision or away from it. You have been gifted with the foresight of a possible future; you have the chance to change it. Do not despair dear Peredhil."
Elrohir's heart warmed to Thranduil's words.
"I will help you find the answers to your riddles," Thranduil said, looking into Elrohir's eyes, there was something more than what Elrohir was telling. He frowned, "Something more troubles you."
"He, Elladan, he closed off our bond," Elrohir whispered, distressed he brought his hands up to cover his face. "I cannot feel him, it's so empty."
His body shook with sobs as he released everything. The loneliness was almost too much to bear. He would rather feel his brother's pain than not feel him at all. Elrohir cried, releasing all that pent up anguish and frustration, the emotions that came with that deep feeling of emptiness his twin had left behind after Elladan blocked their bond.
Thranduil comfortingly wrapped his arms around Elrohir, having finally gotten to the root of the problem. It pained him to see how the son's of Elrond had suffered. They lived such peaceful and innocent lives up in the safe haven of Imladris. Protected from the shadows of the world. Their father had coddled them. Before their mother, they knew nothing of pain and despair, so unlike Legolas who was born and raised under shadow.
Sometimes Thranduil envied the home Elrond was able to create. He wished for Legolas to know of peace. To be able to go outside and not have to be in fear of the shadows and the dark creatures that lay at his doorstep. He wished his people did not have to sacrifice their lives protecting their home. Such thoughts were constantly on Thranduil's mind. He quickly pushed them away. It would not do well to dwell on false realities. This was his reality. He had to remain strong.
Thranduil looked down at the Peredhil. He soothingly stroked his hair, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu– from a memory of old. His robe was damp from Elrohir's silent tears. Thranduil stayed like that, holding Elrohir, remembering the first time he met the twins. They were only a couple of years older than Legolas at the time, so young, carefree, and innocent.
Thranduil held Elrohir as he watched the stars slowly fade away in the morning sky, as the sun peaked its way out over the edge of the forest, bringing with it the light of a new day.
When Elrohir awoke he found himself lying alone, warm and comfortable, under the star tree. His cheeks reddened as he realized Thranduil's outer robe had been spread over his body. He must have fallen asleep in Thranduil's arms. The thought alone was horribly embarrassing. Elrohir groaned as he realized that he must return Thranduil's robe to him, he was not sure if he was ready to face the Elvenking again. He had displayed such weakness to someone so great.
The morning was so peaceful in the courtyard that Elrohir had decided to stay lying on the bench for just a little while longer. He would face the morning in a bit; right now he just wanted to relax. Small colorful birds danced in the air, merrily singing their morning songs, Elrohir smiled at the sight. Having confided in Thranduil he felt lighter, as if a small bit of that heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He still despaired over his brother, but he did not feel as hopeless. He would heed Thranduil's counsel.
His ears twitched to the sound of a light footfall. Someone was approaching. Looks like his moment of solitary peace would soon end. Elrohir turned towards the sound just in time, to catch a little elfling flying into his arms.
"Aww how did you know I was there? I was trying to sneak up on you," Legolas exclaimed through giggles.
"You'll have to try a lot hard than that the sneak up on me little one," Elrohir said. Legolas' eyes glowed at the unintentional challenge. Elrohir smiled seeing his brother standing near the entrance of the courtyard. Elladan looked well rested.
Elrohir would never admit it but Legolas had almost managed to catch him off guard. The footsteps Elrohir had heard did not belong to Legolas but rather Elladan. If Elladan had not been there Legolas would have given him quite the fright.
"We have been searching for you all morning! You are very hard to find Elrohir. But Ada said that you would be under Nana's tree!"
"Your mother's tree?"
"Yes," the elfling nodded. "This was Nana's favorite tree! Ada said that a very long time ago one of the Valar came to Nana and gave her the seeds to plant this tree. Not only that but also this tree is very special, because Ada said that after the Battle of the Last Alliance he was very sad because his Ada died, and so he went away, exploring Greenwood alone. That is when he found Nana sitting under the tree! That is how they met! When he came back from exploring that is when Ada was crowned King!" Legolas told them in excitement.
Elrohir looked down towards the ground. "I did not know," he whispered.
"Of course you didn't! Ada doesn't like talking about it very much. I can tell it makes him sad."
Elrohir felt horrible for barging in on Thranduil last night. Thranduil was probably mourning his wife, and Elrohir had to come in and thrown all his worries onto the King.
He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Elladan's smiling face. "Come on," he said, helping Elrohir up.
The palace was bustling with activity as woodelves of various stations made their way about in frantic preparation for the evening's festivities, the Festival of Elbereth, the Woodelves' New Year. Of all the elven realms, Mirkwood was in highest population of first born. Many villages and settlements prepared their own celebrations. Only the few villages near the Elvenking's palace had the honour of partaking in the festivities in the presence of their revered King. The cooks spent long hours in preparation for theses feastings. Servants transported barrels of precious wine towards the clearing where the evening's celebration would be held.
With all this activity going on, Legolas would normally be in the way offering his assistance to the annoyance of busy elves, having to forgo their preparations in order to entertain the whims of their young prince. But with Elrohir and Elladan, that was no longer a problem. Legolas had a greater interest in Elrohir and Elladan than the on goings of the servants.
Legolas realizing he had yet to show the twins his bedroom decided to take them there first. With their hands held in the enthusiastically tight grip of the tiny elfling, the twins were whisked away. They both couldn't help but to notice, to their confusion, the looks of pity of elves they past. The servants knew all to well that once one had agreed to spend time with Legolas, they were trapped in doing so for the rest of the day. It was difficult to make an escape from the elfling's presence without upsetting him. Though the servants loved their tiny prince dearly, most could not usually spare time to qualm his curiosity and resorted to avoiding him altogether rather than denying him. Resulting in a usually very lonely elfling.
Legolas' bedroom or rather, bedrooms were quite large. The door leading to his personal chambers opened up to a large sitting room, filled with low laying book shelves, toys carved from wood, and animals sewn from soft velvets stuffed full with feathers. The room was light, airy and welcoming. A comfortable and well-used rocking chair sat off to side, reminding the twins just how young Legolas actually was. Though he was well past the tiny toddler years, he was still incredibly small, barely reaching their waist in height.
The door to the left opened up to an equally large room where Legolas' oversized bed was kept, the door to the right of the sitting room led to a smaller sized bathing chamber. It was his bedroom where Legolas lead them. He dropped hold of their hands and skipped over to his bedside table, opening the drawing and pulling out one his favorite books.
"Can you guys read to me?" Legolas asked, as he handed Elladan the book. It wasn't very often someone had time to read him stories during the day. Sometimes if his father was in his office, Legolas could persuade him to read. But that didn't happen very often. His father, being head of the state as well as head of the defensive forces was always very busy. Legolas did not like disturbing his father's important work. So he only got read to before bed, usually falling asleep to his father's soft voice.
"Of course!" Elladan replied.
Legolas moved his favorite stuffed rabbit out of the way as the three elves settled themselves onto his bed, leaning against the headboard. Elladan and Elrohir sat next to each other with Legolas snuggling comfortably in Elladan's lap holding his stuffed animal.
"This one is my most favorite book!" the elfling exclaimed.
"And why is that?" Elrohir asked playfully.
Legolas handed Elrohir his beloved rabbit as he took the book from Elladan's hands and opened it. "See!" he showed them.
The twins marveled at the pages. It was a very old book, but greatly cared for. Most elven books were filled with elegant script, but this one had something different. Every other page was filled with a colorful illustration, depicting what the script on the other page was about. The two brothers made eye contact with each other and smiled. There were few books in Arda, which had been written solely for an elfling's enjoyment, because there were so few elflings in Arda. They had not seen a book in the likes of this since they were last elflings over two millennia ago.
Legolas eagerly flipped to the first page before handing the book back to Elladan. Elladan was about to read when he noticed something quite odd, something seemingly out of place. He paused at the book, momentarily trying to make sense of it.
"Elladan, why aren't you reading?" Legolas anxiously asked.
"Legolas, can you understand this?" Elladan asked, referring to the pages.
"Yes!" he exclaimed. "Ada reads it to me all the time!" If they had asked, Legolas could have recited the whole story from pure memory alone.
"But Legolas, this story is written in Quenya," Elladan said baffled. He had been taught that Oropher, following Thingol's rule had banned the use of Quenya from the Sindarin culture. It was odd that Thranduil would allow his son to learn such a language.
"Really? Let me see," Elrohir asked, holding his hand out for the book. "Legolas, you can understand Quenya?"
"Yes, Aerion is teaching me! He is one of Ada's councilors, and he is the one who gave me this book," Legolas exclaimed. He fidgeted in Elladan's lap. The elfling just really wanted them to read the story.
"But why would Thranduil have his son learn such an archaic language?" Elrohir asked, turning towards Elladan.
"Yes, it makes so sense to me brother. Was it not banned from Oropher's realm? And regardless Quenya is rarely spoken in Arda anymore. Not even Galadriel uses it. Only in song and lore is it heard," Elladan said.
Legolas pouted crossing his arms. He just wanted them to read the story, not talk about languages. Legolas already had enough language and history lessons to attend without them encroaching on his playtime. What did it matter what language the story was written in? Unless the twins didn't understand Quenya, or maybe they just didn't want to read to him.
Elrohir noticed Legolas' expression and frowned.
"We are sorry little one, it is just strange to us that a Mirkwood elfling would know of such an ancient language," explained Elrohir. "Even one who is a prince."
"Ada says that it may be useful for me to know one day," Legolas explained, still not understanding what was so special about Quenya. It was just another language to him, like Sindarin, Silvan, and Common speech. He had books in all those languages. The Quenya book was the only one with beautiful pictures though.
"But that is peculiar, for to the most of my knowledge, Quenya is only commonly spoken in Valinor," Elladan said.
Legolas looked up at them with sad eyes, "So you will not read to me? You do not understand Quenya?"
Elladan laughed, "Of course we understand Quenya. We just found it surprising that you can. I am happy to read to you, little one!"
It wasn't until hours later when Lealle, Legolas' nursemaid came to help dress him for the evening that Legolas' excitement really took off. Elladan and Elrohir had both left for their chambers, preparing themselves for the festivities.
Legolas could barely sit still as Lealle washed his face with a soft cloth. She helped him change into fresh leggings and a tunic, before she lovingly closed all the silver clasps on his formal robe. She sung to him softly as she brushed and pleated his soft golden hair, before placing a mithril circlet on his head.
Legolas would never openly admit it, but he secretly liked it whenever Lealle would fuss over his appearance. Some times pulling him aside to straighten his tunic, or pull up his leggings, or smooth out his hair. Most of the female elves around the palace would fuss over Legolas, but Lealle fussed over him the most and did so properly.
Lealle was one of his mother's closest friends. Some times she would tell him stories or things about his mother, that not even his father knew, Legolas always felt very special during those moments, and closer to the mother he didn't really know.
She was also a source of comfort for him when his father had to go away either fighting spiders or travelling to other villages. Lealle was the one Legolas would go to when he tore a hole in his leggings or needed help buttoning the very difficult buttons on his tunic. She was also the one who made stuffed animals for him, and sewed him new tunics when his old ones became too small. She was in many ways very much a mother to him, though he would never call her so, she would only ever be Lealle.
Lealle stood before Legolas, assessing his appearance. She smiled satisfied with her work. "Alright my little leaf," she sung. "You are all ready for tonight. Let us go search for her father."
Legolas beamed as she led him out of his room.
Legolas clasped his father's hand tightly. After what seemed like the longest wait ever, they were finally walking towards the large clearing where the Festival of Elbereth would be held. Even though the winter air chilled him to the bone this was Legolas' favorite time of the year. He could already hear the sounds of singing coming from far off in the distance. A flutter of nervous excitement flitted through his stomach.
Soft glowing lanterns marked their way as the Elvenking's entourage made their way down the long winding path, weaving through closely knitted trees. The hour was of twilight, the soft diffuse of the sun shown over the horizon in colors of bright oranges, glowering reds and pale purples. Elbereth's brightest stars could already be seen.
Elrohir and Elladan looked towards the clearing in a state of awe. There were so many elves. Both Elleth and Ellon had winter flowers and pale leaves braided and weaved into their long flowing hair, dark like the night sky or pale silver like the moon.
Upon arrival the Elvenking and his son were instantly whisked away by various village leaders eager to mingle with their King. Legolas held on tightly to his father's hand. As excited as he was about the festival, the shear number of elves was overwhelming to the elfling. He until he got more accustomed to his surroundings, he feared separation from his father and becoming lost amongst the very tall elves in the crowd.
Legolas listened as his father was drawn into a very long uninteresting conversation. He knew it was rude to interrupt but he so desperately wanted to gain his father's attention. He didn't like feeling so small around so many elves he didn't know or recognize. He desperately tugged on his father's arm.
Finally the King looked down at his son. Realizing what the elfling wanted Thranduil swept him up into his arms and held him close. He brushed some fly away hairs away from his son's face and kissed his forehead before continuing on with his conversation.
Legolas snuggled into his Father's warm embrace, appreciating the view he got from this particular vantage point. He watched with a shy smile as the elves around him merrily danced and sang under the stars. Once he was feeling braver and able to gather some courage he decided he would go out and search for Elladan and Elrohir. He wondered if they felt nervous like him because they wouldn't know anyone around here either. Yes, he would seek them out in a bit. For now the elfling was content with just being close to his father.
TBC
A/N: Sorry for the late update. I was buried under a huge pile of midterms and term papers and I put off updating this chapter because I wasn't completely happy with it. I'm still not sure if I am. Anyways let me know what you think. :) Reviews are very motivating. The next chapter is almost complete and should be up within the next couple of days. Its going to be a complete 180.