In Mirkwood- Chapter 8

I know this is shorter than usual. This is also the last chapter of In Mirkwood. Before anybody asks why, as it seems like there is so much more to cover, let me explain.

Firstly, there will be a sequel to this story, called In Imladris, which I shall begin publishing tomorrow. That will focus much more on the emotional side of things- Legolas' point of view and what is going on in his head.

But the main reason is that I actually wrote about 3 more chapters, after chapter 7. The chapters covered Legolas' recovery and his decline into despair. It included Thranduil as well, trying to help but failing. All in all it was about another 8 pages on Word.

However, when reading through these pages, they simply didn't work for me. It all sounded forced and not fluent. I wasn't pleased at all with how I'd written it, and rather than publish something that I wasn't happy with, I removed the parts of the story concerning Legolas' recovery. Therefore this last chapter skips ahead, to when he is leaving Mirkwood. Legolas' state of mind is explained, but not in much depth. This is partially because I felt I was repeating what I had written in In Imladris, and if I took those bits out of In Imladris, I wouldn't have much of a fanfic.

Therefore, this is the last chapter, and is slightly shorter. I didn't want to suspend this fanfic whilst trying to write some chapters that I wasn't comfortable writing, but equally I don't want to let down anyone who has been following this fanfic and reading it. Hopefully I have explained my choices clearly enough.

If you are after more angst, I shall begin publishing In Imladris tomorrow.

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

But Legolas wasn't alright, thought Thranduil as he sat at his desk, writing a letter. He had woken up, but Thranduil saw day after day the shadows that had crept into his son's eyes.

Legolas barely slept now, and when he did, Thranduil knew he was being plagued by images that he could not get rid of. He ate little, and his wounds, according to the healers, were not healing nearly as well as they should be.

It was like a shadow of Legolas was in the palace, thought Thranduil. The same shape, the same looks and voice as Legolas, but so much less. He had tried talking to Legolas many times now, as had the healers, but each time they were turned away. The last time, Thranduil had lost his temper at Legolas. He hadn't tried talking to him again.

Yet he knew something was terribly wrong. Thranduil could guess at the types of questions Legolas had in his head right now, and he was afraid of the answers his son was giving himself. Truthfully, Thranduil was scared. He was scared of what might happen if he found out what Legolas was asking himself. He was scared of finding out that someone else was beginning to doubt it all. And for that person to be his son, one of the few things left to him…

He looked up as there came a soft knock on his study door. "Come in" he said softly.

The door opened and a figure came through, dropping into the chair opposite Thranduil. Galion frowned as he saw the worried look on his King's face, coupled with the empty wine glass in his hand. "What did you want at this hour, my Lord?"

Thranduil sighed. It was indeed late, and there was little movement around the palace. Yet he was no longer able to sleep. He could see, even if he didn't want to, what was happening. The attack, the death of Legolas' patrol was weighing heavily on his son's mind, he was sure of that. He could guess at some of the thoughts Legolas was thinking, for he too had thought them, all of them, at one time or another. But he did not know how to help.

Galion coughed slightly, and Thranduil looked up. "My apologies" he murmured. "But I need your counsel."

He picked up a piece of paper from the desk. The ink was still wet. "This" he said. "Is a letter to Lord Elrond of Imladris, explaining what has happened and asking for his help." Galion frowned and Thranduil continued. "Legolas is friends with Elladan and Elrohir, if you remember. I am hoping that they, along with the peace that can be found in Imladris, may help Legolas."

"I am going to send Legolas there tomorrow, telling him this letter contains vital information about our defences, and that he must take it, to prevent it falling into wrong hands. Then, hopefully, Elrond will read it and be able to help him. I can only send a small escort with him, for we need all our warriors here." He sighed, slumping in his chair. There was silence.

Thranduil suddenly looked up sharply. "Am I doing the right thing?" he asked Galion. "Is this what I should do?"

Galion paused, unsure of how to answer. "I…I think so, Sire" he said.

Thranduil got up from his chair and began to pace. "I don't know what else to do! I have tried talking to him, but he turns away. Maybe, maybe this could work. But what if he never comes back? This is all that I could think of."

Galion kept quiet as Thranduil paced back and forth. Eventually the King turned and looked at him. "You will organise the escort?"

"Aye my Lord, if you want me to" said Galion. "They shall be ready to leave in the morning."

"Good" said Thranduil. He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "Good."

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas walked down the corridors towards the gates leading outside. His bow was in his hand, and his knives were strapped to his back with his quiver. Only the slight stiffness in his step betrayed the still healing wounds.

He sighed, running his hands over his bow as he walked. He had practised a bit with his bow, but though he had kept his knives impeccable, he could not bring himself to use them. The images they conjured were too vivid, too real.

His father had tried to talk to him, but every time he had rebuked him, turned away. His father had always been proud, had always been strong in the face of everything. He could not speak to him, not openly. He could not speak to anyone, really. To confide in someone would be to show weakness, and he could not afford to do that in these times. No, better to hide the numb feeling, and continue as best he could.

His father had said, time and time again, how it was not his fault. And every time Legolas wanted to scream at his father. That wasn't the point! Despite everything that he had done, despite how hard he had fought, he had failed. His people had died around him. He had realised, as he had sat awake in his bed at night, that it didn't matter what he did anymore. Nothing could stop the darkness.

A small part of him still rebelled, and he guessed that was the part that stopped him falling completely. Yet he could not do anything. When everything you believe in is ripped from you, holding your shattered self together is hard enough. There is no chance of regaining what you have lost.

Legolas smiled bitterly as he walked. Thranduil had often asked what was worrying him, and there he had been able to answer truthfully, at least. Nothing was actually worrying him. He had resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do only a few days after waking up. He wasn't worried. He was just…

He didn't know what he was. He didn't really know who he was anymore. A bow and two knives, maybe that was all. Sworn to protect a realm that would fail despite everything he could do. So was there point in doing anything?

He didn't know. He didn't know what to think. Above all, he wished that he couldn't think, that he couldn't see the patrol die around him again and again in dreams, that he couldn't keep asking questions he was so afraid to answer.

A shadow detached itself from the pillars next to the gate and Thranduil stepped forwards. He held out a roll of parchment. "The message for Lord Elrond" he said.

Legolas took it. "It shall be delivered" he said softly. "I shall not let it fall into enemy hands. I know it contains vital information."

Thranduil nodded. "Good" he said. "I shall see you when you come back. Take time if you want it in Imladris."

Legolas bowed slightly. "I shall see you soon" he said.

Thranduil watched him walk out of the gate to his horse at the head of the column of riders. For the love of the Valar, come back, he thought as he watched his son leave. For the love of the Valar, come back.

To Be Continued

This is actually the end. Don't be fooled! Sequel will be coming tomorrow (is slightly shorter than this one at 6 chapters)