To Rekindle Hearts
Chapter Seven: Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire
Legolas did not remember much about the actual fall.
His memory of the event started when he became conscious of Ithildim slapping at his cheeks. He remembered also the interminable hours from midday to dusk, and the several hours they sat close together against the ravine's wall, hair caking with clay as they kept dry as they could. He remembered singing to himself and reminiscing on their childhood with Ithildim in some of these hours. He remembered laughing, too, even as his body pulsed with hurt; he remembered arguing with Ithildim; he remembered well the flash of pain as his arm was set.
Legolas too remembered Ithildim shaking his shoulders to stop him from drifting into dreams on many occasions, and he remembered Ithildim's cry of joy when the rain ceased, and then another joyous exclamation several hours later when—in the dark of night with just a sliver of the moon above—Mithrandir's dark head peered over the edge of the cliff, followed by the head of Elder Bregon, and a dwarf that Legolas did not know. He remembered Ithildim and Mithrandir talking and shouting and devising a plan to get them out of the gully. He remembered offering a few unhelpful suggestions. He remembered ropes and knives and a pulley system and pain. He remembered Elder Bregon saying that one of the men who had hurt them was sick with guilt, and immediately sought him out to send aid.
Legolas remembered going back to the village by horseback and that he and Ithildim were tended by Mithrandir in the Elder's home; he remembered Ithildim bathing and then bathing, in turn, with some help. He remembered Elder Bregon bringing them night shirts; Ithildim braiding his wet hair; Mithrandir washing their clothes and laying them before the fire to dry overnight. He remembered that Mithrandir leaned over him when he was finally allowed to submit to dreams, and he remembered in that last moment of consciousness the way Mithrandir's beard quivered when he reached out to place a hand on Legolas' brow.
Then, Legolas remembered what they ate for breakfast the next day, the color of the horse leant to Mithrandir, the route they took home, the birds that called out to them on their journey, and the tree with the twisted trunk that marked the path at the east edge of the forest nearest the Forest River.
In short, Legolas thought he remembered everything that had happened since he woke to Ithildim slapping him in the gully. So he did not understand why he found himself losing time; why he found himself still disoriented in the middle of perfectly inane conversations; why Mithrandir looked at him often with concern and Ithildim with despair or outright terror. He did not understand the herbs Mithrandir mixed for him into tea as they travelled, nor Mithrandir's noncomittal answers to his inquiries about potential injury.
Legolas would, he thought, be glad to be home.
Nine days after original departure from the Elvenking's Halls
Once reaching home, however, and reporting officially to Commander Lostariel, Lieutenant Amonhir, and King Thranduil in the Council Room, Legolas realized he was not so glad to be at home again. After they gave their highly abbreviated and somewhat falsified report, Ithildim left with Amonhir for an obligatory trip to the healing ward, where he would also likely see his father, Anaron.
Without Ithildim by his side in battle—which he was quite certain this was about to be—Legolas felt remarkably ill-prepared.
The Elvenking had asked Lostariel and Mithrandir to wait in the hallway, and he looked now toward his son, who sat in a chair turned partway into the long table, with his long hands folded gracefully on top of it. His quiver and its harness were in a jumble at his feet. Thranduil stood several steps behind Legolas, and spoke.
"If you are overwhelmed by your command, Legolas, you speak to the army's lieutenant. You do not run away with Mithrandir to meddle in the affairs of Men."
"I was not overwhelmed by my unit, father," Legolas said, looking at his hands for a moment before dropping them from the table and shifting to meet the Elvenking's bright eyes fleetingly, before turning again to face the table. "I needed respite."
"And that you had," Thranduil said sternly. "You were on rest rotation!"
"No," said Legolas vaguely, voice suddenly thready. "No, that is not what I mean."
Thranduil pulled back the chair beside Legolas and swept into it like the first storm of spring—quiet and powerful—green robes billowing around him as he settled.
"Then tell me what you mean," Thranduil hissed darkly, leaning into his son's space so that they were only centimetres away from each other.
Legolas did not turn his head to look at Thranduil.
"I needed—we needed—" he said, before looking his father fully in the eyes and wishing he did not have to answer truthfully, because the truth would make the Elvenking melancholy, and turn him to guilt and grief.
"We needed respite from our home and woods," Legolas finally continued. "A moment away to consider and breathe. To see the stars from somewhere besides the training fields, or in the treetops while keeping watch for spiders and other foul beasts. I needed to be able to see my stars without holding my breath—waiting for the next stroke to fall—so that when I came back to our woods, I could remember what we were fighting for."
Thranduil moved in his chair as if he were about to speak, but Legolas continued.
"What we are fighting for," Legolas said, "in this supposed time of peace."
Thranduil looked at Legolas for several long minutes, and Legolas did not look away. He studied, instead, Thranduil's face, trying to read there the thoughts that flittered through his father and king's mind. He could find no answer in Thranduil's high cheekbones, his light eyes, the almost imperceptible creases at the corner of his lips. So Legolas sat very still, and waited for the Elvenking's response. It was not what he expected.
"Needing a respite from duties is different than running away from them," Thranduil finally said slowly. "But what would your unit have done if you and Ithildim had been killed? You have built a team together these past two centuries, and your soldiers are bound to one another and loyal to you. Who would be ready to replace you, or even could? Had you died, your team would have for a time been broken, and they would not function as well. Your death or Ithildim's might leave your people unprotected. Did you not think of that?"
Legolas dropped his eyes to the floor. "I did not think of that, not exactly."
There was silence, then: "I am used to Ithildim making large decisions; I am not good at it. I am best at planning off the field, and at directing and responding and giving hope on it, but never choosing the mission in the first place. I thought briefly, and then I banished my thinking, and I followed him. You know as well as I that there is a good reason that I am sub-captain."
Thranduil sighed. "You do not have the steady temperament of a leader—you are at once bold and distracted. I know this, everyone in Mirkwood knows this, and probably half of Middle-earth, or whomever you have graced your presence with on your adventures thus far. Recognizing that weakness is commendable, my son," said Thranduil.
"That being said," Thranduil continued, "you will not make excuses for your ill behavior."
Legolas flushed.
"If your duty as Ithildim's second will not persuade you of your recent foolishness, then perhaps your responsibilities as a prince will. I believe the darkness will soon return, and our people need us here whole and present and dedicated to them fully. I am their leader and king; Lumornon is their heir and future; and you are their protector and hope—you uniquely inspire our people with your youthfulness and spirit, your joy and ferocity," said Thranduil. "You cannot fail them in death or abandonment—it would be unfair. You have the potential to be so much more than you currently are, but you refuse to commit your attention."
Legolas stared at his father. It was a position he often found himself in—when he did not know what to say, he chose not to say a thing. And often the thing he thought he and his father were talking about, was not actually the King's intended subject of conversation at all.
The Elvenking was accustomed to Legolas' habits of silence, and he felt his anger begin to grow as his son continued to stare at him, like he had done when unsure since old enough to speak. But though relatively young and still learning, Legolas was not a child at all, and Thranduil expected more of him now, as a captain, and a prince, and a son.
"Legolas," Thranduil said sternly. "This conversation requires you actively engage."
"I—" said Legolas.
And then there was no more response.
Legolas continued to stare at his father. But now his brows drew together and scrunched, and then released, as did the muscles at the corners of his mouth. Thranduil could tell Legolas' hands moved thoughtlessly in his lap from the way his upper arms tightened.
When Legolas' lips twitched faintly for a second time, Thranduil realized this was not one of Legolas' normal deflective silences, and he stood quickly when he saw the unfocused cloud in Legolas' usually bright and assessing grey gaze.
The Elvenking dropped to his knees and pulled at Legolas' chair roughly, turning it so his son fully faced him. His hands were moving in his lap as Thranduil had suspected, his left grasping his right and releasing it, grasping and releasing and grasping over and over again.
Ithildim mentioned that they had both suffered a fall when the two soldiers originally reported to himself and their commanding officers, but he failed to mention that Legolas had done any more than break his arm. As a soldier's captain, that vague report was unacceptable, but Thranduil would deal with that later.
Thranduil grabbed his son's shoulders and shook him slightly, and when Legolas did not respond, Thranduil called his name and slapped at his cheeks, increasing the pressure of the strikes and volume of his voice with Legolas' continued non-response and his own mounting anxiety.
"Guards! Mithrandir!" Thranduil yelled toward the doors. "Lostariel! Someone fetch a healer!"
I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading thus far!