CHAPTER 14

The King was adamant. He had no intention of moving a step away from the bed on which they had laid the Queen to rest. Not wanting her in the healing wing, he gave orders for her to be settled in her rooms as she should rightly be.

Faeron let out a sigh. He had to find a way to make him leave. Both of them needed to rest so as to regain their physical and mental strength. The Queen had not recovered totally from the deep sleep at the time when she had used her powers during the battle. Faeron knew nonetheless that this might have triggered a positive side-effect. Such an exertion could aid in regaining her memory. But he kept all this to himself for now, not wanting to raise Thranduil's hopes.

The King, on the other hand, was clearly emotionally drained. Of course, this was only evident to Faeron's keen eye both as healer and also because he had known the King for countless years; for Thranduil's countenance remained as tranquil and calm as ever. Yet the look in his eyes betrayed all this. A lot had happened in one day. The possibility of the Queen being alive had changed from dream to reality within a couple of hours. He was still in shock and he needed to rest.

Faeron decided to try a different approach. "I heard she disintegrated the orc spawn to little pieces," he said as he slowly placed his medicine bottles, healing herbs and other things he required on the small table next to the elegantly ornamented four poster bed.

"Like tiny particles of dust!" Thranduil smiled proudly as he looked at the healer. "She wiped it right off the face of Middle Earth." He was sitting on the bed, never for one moment letting go of her hand.

"That must have required a considerable amount of strength and effort on her part. She definitely needs to rest as much as possible if we want to help her recover. The blinding light she managed to summon must have drained her vital energy."

"I'm not leaving this bedside if that is what you are subtly suggesting!" Thranduil's words were spoken harshly and took Faeron by surprise.

He knew he had to insist but he was at the moment lost for words at seeing his king's reaction. He could not imagine how difficult it was for Thranduil to tear his gaze away from his wife and let go of her hand. He was a healer. His job was to do what was necessary. If this meant separating them he had to find a way to do it, although the king was making this task extremely difficult.

"Faeron is right Ada. She needs to rest…and so do you." Legolas' voice made Thranduil turn round to face his son who was looking at him, visibly concerned. "She is with us now. She won't be going anywhere." Legolas smiled and his face lit up. Walking towards the bed he continued, never taking his eyes away from the sleeping Queen, "we have guards right outside her door and a healer will be next to her bed at all times. She is safe," he said reassuringly.

Thranduil looked back at Valadhiel, lying serene and peaceful on the soft bed, chest moving slowly in deep restful breaths. Then, much to both Faeron and Legolas' surprise, he bent over, whispered in her ear and stood up. His son was right. What could happen? And he needed some time to regain his composure as well.

"I will leave her in your hands then," he said to Faeron, before turning round and striding out of the room lest he should change his mind.

Legolas followed his father to his private chambers, situated right next to those of the Queen. Once inside, he started helping him remove his armour and place it on a nearby chair. All this was done in silence, each of them enveloped in one's own thoughts. It was a comforting silence nonetheless, helping to create a peace in the room which hadn't been felt for a very long time.

Thranduil knew that they had drifted apart throughout the years. What he could not understand at first was how it came to be. He had always given Legolas all the love and guidance he could possibly provide, had always wanted the best for his son. It was because of this that Legolas' first reaction when he had confronted Tauriel shocked him to the core. How could he have been so blind as to his son's deep feelings for her? He sighed. These thoughts and everything they implicated wearied him but he could not ignore them any longer. Today, as they were coming back to Mirkwood, finally holding his wife in his arms, he realised that he had to speak to his son as soon as possible.

Remaining in his dark black tunic, Thranduil moved towards a table on which there was a crystal glass decanter and matching glasses. He poured some wine in two of them and offered one to his son, who accepted it gladly. Both of them needed a good drink of Dorwinion wine to wash down the tumultuous events of the day.

It was Thranduil who broke the silence. "We were in time of peace. Our army was getting back to its feet after the great losses we had suffered during the great war against Sauron. Orc attacks were few and far between. That year the harvest was exceptionally bountiful and I gave orders for a great feast to be held and a duelling contest to be organised."

"The elves all around the realm were ecstatic to say the least. Everyone was looking forward to some means of distraction, including myself if I want to be honest." Thranduil smiled at his son, who was unsure as to where his father was heading to with this story, yet he smiled back and sat down on the couch, eager nonetheless to listen to the rest of it.

"A considerable number of ellons took part in the contest, along with a couple of ellith as well. There were many whom I had met before that day, some even worked here in the Palace but, since there were a few new names on the list, I decided to go down to the training fields to greet them and wish them luck."

Thranduil paused, eyes unseeing, fixed on nothing in particular. His lips curled into a smile as he recalled that day. He went to sit on the couch next to his son, relaxed, taking another long sip of wine, before placing the glass on the low table next to him. Resting his head back, he looked upwards at the gem studded ceiling.

"It was then that I saw her…and I recognised her immediately…that same elleth who had won our staring contest almost a year before! I had tried in vain to look for her after that event, but she had simply vanished into thin air. And now, when I least expected it, she turns up out of the blue, with her beautiful face, her blue grey eyes, braided warrior hair, wearing those fitted…" his voice trailed off, reminiscing.

"Those fitted…?" Legolas' prompting made Thranduil turn round to see him grinning mischievously, one eyebrow raised, waiting impatiently for his father to continue.

"Don't be impudent! You know very well what I'm talking about!" He scolded half grinning, "She had just effortlessly disarmed an elf whom she had been practising with. Her skill with the sword was unmatched. As I moved closer I remember another elf asking her who she was going to the festivities with, to which she haughtily replied that she will go out with the first ellon who succeeded to disarm her during the contest."

"And? What did you do then?" Legolas urged his father to go on, curious now as to know more about his parents' first meeting.

"I turned round, signed up for the contest and went to practise. I would have been damned before I lost that duel!" He stopped, taking another sip from his glass.

"Who won?"

"I did. But I must admit that it was one of the most difficult fights I had ever fought. First, because she was a sight to behold. Her fighting attire had already put me off balance before she was attacking me on all fronts. I spent the first five minutes defending and admiring her agility and overall fighting techniques.

I think she was fooled into thinking that she could actually win the match, so my sudden attack took her completely by surprise. I was merciless. Good as she might have been, I was better and a far more experienced warrior; and I was not going to leave that field defeated. The price was too high! I was determined to win as if my whole life depended on it…and it did, in a strangely ironic way.

I had to win the match if I wanted to win her over. At one point she made the mistake of moving in closer than necessary." He smirked, self-satisfied, "I tripped her. She fell over and I disarmed her before she realised what had happened. You should have seen her expression as I pointed my sword at her, eyes open wide in astonishment. Beautiful!"

"Well, I bet she was as astonished as I was yesterday when she disarmed me!" blurted out Legolas, finishing his glass of wine.

This news made the King sit straight in attention. "Did you fight with her?" he asked concerned.

"We were just practising. It was then that I noticed her skill with the sword and that there was a high possibility that she might be a Mirkwood elf." Legolas stopped, his mind wandering to the other things she had said afterwards.

Thranduil noticed immediately his son's hesitation to continue. Something was bothering him. He waited patiently for some minutes, his gaze open and understanding, inviting his son to finish what he had to say.

"I started explaining to her that there were various kinds of elves, living in different parts of Middle Earth. The discussion then moved on to the difference between the Silvan and Sindar elves in this realm."

"Tauriel was present as well." Legolas stood up, tormented. He turned round and looked at his father, sorrow transpiring from his bright blue eyes. "Ada," he continued, "I have never felt so uncomfortable saying that I am a Sindar elf!"

Thranduil was shocked at hearing this, but he did not feel angry at his son's admission.

"What amazed me were Mother's words. She looked surprised and said that she saw no difference between me and Tauriel!"

An uncomfortable silence permeated the room, broken only by the King's steps as he stood up and walked towards the balcony doors, looking out over his beloved forest. Finally he spoke those words that had been mercilessly weighing on his heart for a year now.

"As you very well know, I have favoured Tauriel for hundreds of years." He paused for a few moments before continuing, "I don't know if you have realised by now as the reason for this is very clear. The warrior in her spirit and the defiant energy in her eyes reminded me frequently of Valadhiel.

Still, when I noticed that your interest in her was changing and becoming something more than friendship and simple admiration, I wasn't pleased.

What's strange is that I shouldn't have been surprised since she resembled your mother in character so much. However, I was blinded. Wanting the best for you and thinking I was adhering to what your mother would have wished, I believed that you had to pledge yourself to another Sindar elleth…"

"What did you do?" Legolas' voice was broken, disbelieving; not wanting to hear what his father had to say, yet urging him on, imploring, "What did you tell her? Look at me!"

Thranduil turned round to face his son. He knew that this moment would have come sooner or later. His expression was tense but his eyes betrayed the grief he was feeling at the thought of being rejected by Legolas.

"I told her not to give you hope. It was only when I saw you defending her and when she was crying over the body of that dwarf that I understood how wrong I had been. Love is love. Pure and simple. It has no boundaries, no limitations of age, race or other."

He stopped, hesitant, before asking the question that had been tormenting him. "My son, will you ever forgive me?"

Legolas looked at his father. He could not deny the fact that during his father's explanation, he had felt angry and hurt. He had interfered in something which could now be lost forever. But his father's openness and sincerity had taken him by surprise. His father had really changed, considerably, this past year. He loved, respected and admired him.

Legolas moved closer to him. Looking into his eyes, three words escaped his lips, "I forgive you," before being warmly embraced by the King.