CHAPTER 35) EXODUS
Legolas remained in his sickbed, seething at Aragorn's dismissal, and in equal measure at himself for his uselessness. Was he yet so weak that he should not be allowed to leave the infirmary, where he felt as trapped as a caged bird? In the Elf's mind, his own injuries were rendered entirely irrelevant in light of the events currently transpiring somewhere in the chambers of the tower above him. Simply put, he wished to be of help, and, this being denied of him, his mood swiftly grew irate and impatient.
A short while after Aragorn and Miluiel took their leave, Legolas' keen ears noted the incoming of two figures. The weight of their footfalls informed him of their identity, without needing to lay eyes on them. Such heaviness of tread could only come from armor, a fact confirmed when they drew nearer and the soft chink of metal became audible – the two men were undoubtedly guards. Their footsteps paused when they reached the doorway, but they did not enter, instead stationing themselves just beyond the door.
The Elf held no illusions. He knew full well that the soldiers were not here to protect him, but rather, guard him – to ensure that he did not act on his desire to leave the walls of the infirmary.
You truly think of me as a child, Aragorn, that I should need such supervision, Legolas thought, his irritation heightening to true anger.
Naturally astute and more than a little brazen, his mind immediately set to concocting methods of escape, for scarcely a reason but spite. He had no sooner scanned each window than he shook his head, almost violently, pulling himself from the naïve thoughts. His inclination towards a little light mischief was not stronger than his common sense, and he knew that current circumstances would not allow for his usual agility – he could probably manage to scale such a wall with his current wounds alone, or even perhaps with the broken ribs, but the amount of blood he had lost would undoubtedly render him faint from such exertion.
A prisoner I shall be, then, he thought discontentedly.
However, it was not long before another set of footsteps marked the arrival of a visitor, though this time Legolas could identify them directly, and at great; they belonged not only to an Elf, which was as clear to Legolas as the difference between red and green, but more specifically, to his father.
A short exchange transpired with the guards, before the doors swung open, admitting Thranduil to the hall. Legolas scrambled to push himself upright, smiling warmly at his father to mask his lightheadedness from the action.
"If you do not rest, you shall not heal." Thranduil stated plainly, seeing through the ruse.
"I will heal soon enough either way. Miluiel has done very fine work on this patient." Legolas returned, indicating the bandages whose bulk was just visible beneath his tunic.
"I have no doubt of that." Thranduil agreed. "She is a fine physician; the kingdom shall miss her skill."
"Miss it?" Legolas repeated, a light frowning marring his face.
"Of course, I have told you not." Thranduil replied, brows shooting upward sharply in recollection. "I plan for the party to leave the city at tomorrow's dawn. I have been away from the forest already for longer than I aught, and I am required to return with haste."
Legolas nodded, feeling neither bitterness nor surprise. He had been surprised that his father dared leave the kingdom unattended at all, let alone for nearly a week, and he had anticipated that his departure would arrive as soon as he knew that all was well with his health.
"I suppose I should ask you formally whether you wish to accompany us." Thranduil added as an afterthought. "Although I daresay we both already know the answer."
Legolas smiled faintly, and a tug of guilt pulled at him.
"Aye, we do." he affirmed lightly. "Do not mistake me, it is not that I do not wish to return to Mirkwood; I dearly miss you, and the Guard, and the song of the trees. But – "
Thranduil held up a hand, silencing him immediately.
"You do not need to justify yourself to me. You are no longer a child, and though it always pains a father to be so far from his son, I understand that it must, sometimes, be so." he said with gentle civility.
"I… thank you." Legolas replied, politely surprised – he had anticipated an argument over this matter, and was nothing short of astonished that his father had taken the response so calmly. Left at a loss for words, he fell into silence, before quickly adding:
"But this does not explain why Miluiel will be missed. Is she well? I saw her not an hour passed – "
"She is perfectly well, to my knowledge. However, she will be missed, because she is not to return to Mirkwood with the rest of the party - Miluiel has chosen to remain behind in Gondor, to serve the wishes of King Elessar." Thranduil explained.
Legolas' eyes lit up instantly in delight.
"She is to stay here?" he asked, seeking confirmation for the good news.
Legolas held in his heart great admiration for Miluiel, though it had never crossed over into an amorous love. She was the simplest and purest type of friend, as natural as the grass and the sky, and of the kind that can only be culminated over many centuries. As Legolas had aged, she had also, and thus the playmate of child becomes the confidant of the adult. Absence, if anything, had only made her dearer to him.
But more so than this, she was a talisman of his youth. Miluiel personified his origins, his childhood, and his home, and a reminder of all of these was a very welcome thing to one who had not walked the forests of Mirkwood for what felt an age.
"Yes, she expressed to me her desire to remain and assist with the healing practices of these lands. It would be selfish of me to withhold such a request, when her talent offers itself to wider service so willingly." Thranduil answered factually, before his lips curled into what was almost a smirk. "Of course, it is purely a secondary motive that one of her oldest and dearest friends also calls this kingdom home at the current time."
Legolas could not restrain his jubilation, and laughed aloud, a warm sound like the pealing of bells.
"I have missed your satire." he murmured.
"I have missed your laughter." the king returned, a small, sad smile playing at his features. Legolas leant forwards in concern, but the shimmer of sorrow was gone from his father's face, masked in a second with an ease brought about by centuries' practice.
"No, do not fret over me." Thranduil implored dismissively. "You know my ways - you may grow to be five thousand years old, and yet to me you will always be but an Elfling."
Legolas made no attempt to argue with the statement – his father's over-protectiveness had been the core despair of his youth, as they both knew full well.
"I suppose that is why I took your abduction so to heart." Thranduil went on, venom creeping into his voice. "But that is no matter now, either, for that villain will pay sorely for his crimes, I quite assure you."
"Why is it that I hear no news of these matters? I am injured, not deaf!" Legolas exclaimed, making no effort to mask his irritation. "What say you about this supposed villain?"
"Well, I could not simply grant Elessar one of our kingdom's most skilled healers, without any sort of payment or reward. So I arranged a small exchange." Thranduil explained, a certain darkness creeping into his voice. "When we return to Mirkwood, we shall take with us Beregrond, the Gondorian traitor. He shall serve out his crimes under my supervision."
Legolas fell silent, feeling a tight knot form in his throat. The idea of his captor's punishment should have been relieving, even satisfying, and yet he found himself almost repulsed. He knew, perhaps better than most, the wrath his father was capable of, and he feared what such a temper might spawn. He had no issues with retribution for the man's conspiracies, so long as the punishment did not turn into a crime in its own right.
"Do not allow your judgment to be clouded." Legolas advised, finally able to force out words. "It matters not that I was the victim; this man must still be treated with humanity."
"You fear that I will kill him." Thranduil stated, frowning deeply.
"No, I fear worse. I worry that you will become the same kind of monster as he." the younger Elf replied, eyes wide in an earnest plea. "I wish to see him punished, of course, but not at the expense of your compassion. Please, adar."
Thranduil stared at him pointedly, with such severity that Legolas fully expected him to deny the request, to declare an intent to inflict on this villain every harm that he has inflicted upon others, his own son included. Yet a moment later he nodded, once, sharply, and stated quietly:
"I will not let that happen. He will be treated appropriately – harshly, of course, but not with cruelty."
"Gwestog? Do you promise?"
"Aye, greenleaf, I vow it to you."
Legolas restrained his sigh of relief, and replaced it with a formal inclination of the head, and the words, "I would expect nothing less."
The wrinkles of worry on Thranduil's brow smoothed, until the skin resembled pale marble once more.
"You have grown into a fine Elf." he murmured, cocking his head slightly. "I cannot claim responsibility for it entirely, though. You have changed, since last I saw you. The war has changed you, yet for the better. It is a curious thing, that one should come out of such bloodshed yet nobler than when it began. How does this come to pass?"
"I stopped fighting against what I hate, and began to fight for what I love."
Thranduil reached out and placed a hand gently on his son's shoulder, hoping that the gesture was enough to portray the pride that he could not express in words.
"Na lû e-govaned vîn." he said gently. "Until we meet again."
"N'i lû tôl." Legolas replied, with a small smile. "Until then."
His father turned, and in a flurry of silver and silken robes, he was gone.