Thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this.  

List of Characters:

Legolas: Come on

Thranduil: Legolas’s father and King of the Wood land Realm

Girithron: Legolas’s elder brother, the third child and second son of Thranduil. Is the heir to the kingdom as Thranduil’s eldest, Celeguir, was killed at Dagorland.

Brethil: The warrior who saved Legolas from an orc.

Adwanoth: Captain of the Palace Guard

Lalorn: Legolas’s mother

Hananuir: The third son and fourth child of Thranduil, one of Legolas’s older brother.

Gwiwileth: Thranduil’s only daughter and second child, Legolas’s sister.

Lebanuir: Guard who is assigned to watch Gollum. Was friends with Legolas.

The Result of Failure

Chapter Two- A Burden You Must Bear

Legolas sighed as he made his way to his chambers. He had just come from another night of guard duty. He rubbed the sore muscles along his neck in frustration. Why did he have to guard the gardens? Who in Arda would do any harm amidst the flowers? True enough, there was a path that led into the surrounding forest, and would be a convenient access to the Royal Palace, if any knew of its whereabouts. He grimaced, and felt the sorrow of that day fill him. That accursed path had proved treacherous enough, nearly 527 years ago.

“Ai, Legolas stop squirming!” Lalorn laughed as her son fought her to run among the flowers.

“Come now. I want to braid your hair.” She scooped the kicking elfling into her arms. She deftly twisted the long, pale strands into tight braids. She began singing softly.

Legolas sighed in contentment as he listened to his mother. How he loved her! He loved nothing more. He watched a butterfly fly lazily past and land on the flower near his knee. He bent to pick it up, and laughed when it flew away.

Lalorn smiled at her son. This elfling was so precious to her. Lalorn sighed as she remembered why Legolas had been conceived. The shadow had returned to Mirkwood. Legolas, the last child of Lalorn and Thranduil, was their defiance to the evil encroaching their forest. He was a small hope, that perchance peace would return. Lalorn believed in her son, she knew there would always be hope.

 Lalorn looked up as she heard hurried footsteps leading into the garden. Her third son, Hananuir appeared, breathless, brow creased in worry.

“Naneth! Hurry! You must get inside the palace with Legolas! We are under attack!”

Lalorn paled, and jumped up. “Where? How can this be?”

“The north. Orcs! Hundreds of them! I have no idea how they managed to get this far into the realm. The northern patrol should have stopped them! You must get to safety.”

None of them noticed that Legolas had wandered off into the surrounding greenery, chasing a butterfly.

“How is it safe inside the palace?” Lalorn was a good archer, and she hated to be confined and made to feel useless.

“Naneth, please. Adar wants you to be safe. At least do it for Legolas.”

“Very well. I will go. You should hurry back; you will be needed in the defense.” Lalorn gave her son a kiss and watched as he hurried off. She smiled fondly at his retreating figure.

“Legolas!” Only then did she notice that her youngest son was not present. She felt a bubble of panic in her stomach.

“Legolas! Come back! We must hurry back!” Lalorn began to search frantically among the bushes. She had to find her son.

She turned and heard footsteps behind her. She caught sight of a blond head as it flung itself against her skirts.

“Nana, there’s black things in the forest! They are coming!” Legolas did not bother hiding his terror.

Lalorn gasped at this news. Orcs! In the forest! She scanned the trees, looking for danger. She did not see them, but they were there. She inhaled sharply as the overpowering stench of orc assailed her nostrils. She did not have any sort of weapon, either.

“Run, Legolas!” Lalorn began to run away, gripping a distraught elfling in her arms. She never got to the other side.

Legolas sobbed, as he held his mother’s hand. He knew he had to be brave, like Ada, but he was just too scared. He felt Nana lagging behind, and turned to help her. He saw a black shaft sprouting from her stomach. He heard her scream of pain and surprise. She fell heavily upon him.

From underneath his Naneth, Legolas sobbed. “Nana, wake up! Nana, we must get home!” He looked at her eyes, glazed over in death. He continued sobbing, but an elfling’s sobs cannot be heard above the din of battle.

He did not remember how long he spent crying underneath his Naneth. He heard the sounds of fighting, and commands barked in a harsh language. He heard laughter. He heard the sounds of elvish war cries, and rejoiced that Ada had come to save him. He heard the wail of anguish when Lalorn was discovered.

Girithron had cried at the sight of his mother, lying bloody and still upon the grass. It could not have happened! Naneth! She could not be dead! He knelt down on the grass and lifted her cold figure to his breast. Only then was Legolas found.

“Girithron! Nana went to sleep! Wake her up!” He tugged uselessly at her arm, hoping that this might wake her.

Girithron felt hot tears coursing down his face. “Legolas.” He put his free arm around Legolas, while the other still supported Lalorn.

“Legolas, Nana, has gone to a better place now. She is dead.” His voice broke, and he could not speak. Legolas stared at his brother in awe. He had never seen Girithron cry. He didn’t understand. Dead? Nana couldn’t be dead. She was Nana.

She was dead.

Legolas wiped at his eyes as he entered his room. She had been gone for so long now, almost all his life. He had very few memories of her. The one of her death was the clearest. He had been so young. He had often blamed himself for her death. He still did, sometimes, in the dead of night when not even the moon’s light was there to comfort him. It had taken him until his second patrol as a warrior to realize that he was not to blame. A fellow warrior had died, and Legolas had put the blame on himself once more. However, he had learned that no matter what he did, the future would run its course. He could not have saved his mother, the same way he could not have saved that warrior, and the same way that he could not predict the future. But if I had only stayed in the garden...

He shook his head. It did not do to dwell upon past events that could not be changed.

He took off his tunic and drew a bath. He had to clean himself up before the evening meal. Thranduil hated it when his sons did not take their royal status properly. The royal family sat at the head of the table along with the entire court. All the nobles and guests that lived in the royal palace were present. As a prince of the realm, Legolas had to be there. He sighed wearily as he drew his weary body and stiff muscles into the bath.

“His royal majesty King Thranduil. His royal highness Prince Girithron. Princess Gwiwileth. Prince Hananuir. Prince Legolas.” The royal family entered in procession, as the herald announced them. Thranduil led, and was followed by his oldest son and heir, Girithron. His only daughter Gwiwileth followed, alongside Hananuir. Legolas, the youngest, brought up the rear. After they had taken their seats, the rest of the company sat as well.

Thranduil scanned his children. All were dressed to perfection. Except Hananuir, his collar is crooked. And Legolas’s tunic is rumpled. He examined his youngest closely. How unhappy he looks. Thranduil had hoped that Legolas’s new posting as a palace guard would improve his son’s sense of responsibility. It didn’t seem to be working too well. Instead, Legolas had become impatient and unhappy. Why did he have to be exactly like Celeguir? He was also one who could not bear to be idle.  Thranduil had a sudden inspiration. Yes, he mused, that would work very well.

He called to Girithron. “Iôn nín, I want you to send Legolas to my office tomorrow morning. I have a task for him.”

Girithron raised an eyebrow. As Thranduil’s heir, he commanded the realm’s soldiers. Therefore, it was his responsibility to reassign soldiers. He had not been happy when Thranduil had assigned Legolas to the Palace Guard without his permission. However, one did not cross Thranduil.

“Adar. Is this something I should be aware of?” He kept his tone neutral.

“No, iôn nín. It is merely an experiment. You shall hear of it, when I feel that you should.” Thranduil’s eyes twinkled mischievously.

“Yes, Adar.” Girithron wondered what in Arda his father was planning for Legolas.

“Adar. You requested me?” Legolas knelt quickly before Thranduil, and rose to stand before his father.

“I did, iôn nín.  I have a task for you. I suspect you will enjoy this better than your guard position.” Thranduil watched expectantly as Legolas perked up at the news.

“You will recall that a month ago, a messenger from Mithrandir arrived and brought with him a prisoner. We have kept his prisoner in the dungeons. Gollum is his name.”

“Yes Adar, I did see him.” Legolas waited patiently for his father to reveal the news.

“Well, this creature has been troublesome to the guards. I believe fresh air would do him good. I cannot, of course, oversee this operation personally. I have too many demands on my time. You, however, do not. Therefore, I assign this creature to you. He is now your responsibility. You will escort him to the gardens daily, and back to his cell. If he causes any trouble, you will be held responsible.” Thranduil smiled as the light of excitement was kindled in the eyes of his son.

“Adar, thank you for this chance to show my worth. I will not fail you.” Legolas bowed. Finally, a chance to show Adar that I am good for something. He thanked his father once again, and left the room, heading for the dungeons.

Well Gollum, it’s time to meet your new keeper. Legolas laughed with joy at being able to do something important again. He descended the steps to the dungeons with glee.

  Lebanuir scanned his surroundings and sighed. He had been escorting Prince Legolas and the prisoner Gollum to this small garden for two months now. It was beginning to get rather tedious. In the beginning, they expected the creature to attempt some form of escape. He had not. He simply sat at the top of an elm tree, muttering to himself.  

Lebanuir looked at his Prince. Legolas sat on a branch in silent contemplation. Although the Elves were not concerned about Gollum’s escaping, they were not about to let him alone at the top of a tree.  At first, Legolas had tried conversing with the creature, asking it questions about its life. He soon gave that up when Gollum did not reply. It seemed that Gollum only ever talked to himself. He was constantly referring to some “precious.” The elves had gathered that this was his nickname for himself. In either case, Gollum was stark raving mad.

“Lebanuir.” The shorter elf started with the realization that Legolas had been trying to get his attention for a few moments.

“My lord, forgive me. Is there aught I can do?”

Legolas sighed. “Lebanuir, please. Refer to me only as ‘Legolas.’ I may be your Prince, but we are not in a formal situation.”

“Yes, Legolas.” Lebanuir smiled. He rather liked this youngest son of Thranduil. He seemed more fair-minded than his father, and elder brothers. Lebanuir was only a palace guard, after all, so he had not had much personal contact with the royal family. He knew Hananuir better than the rest; having been novices together.

Legolas shifted impatiently. Suddenly, he felt a shadow pass overhead. He looked up and so did Lebanuir. Neither noticed Gollum curl over the branch he was sitting on.

“Lebanuir, do you see anything?”

“No, my lord. I do not think there is anything there. I believe we are imagining things, my lord.”

“Legolas.”

“Of course. Legolas.”

Legolas sat down again. He could not shake the feeling that something was amiss. Perhaps Lebanuir was right. He was imagining things. It was, after all, the most uneventful task he had ever undertaken. This responsibility was beginning to become a burden. This creature was so elvish in a way. Content to stay for hours in the same position, Gollum never spoke to others. It didn’t help that Lebanuir didn’t speak to Legolas. Lebanuir constantly referred to him as ‘Lord,’ although Legolas had told him repeatedly to call him by his name. Legolas sighed, and returned to his pastime of listening to Gollum’s ramblings and trying to make some sense of them.

“Gollum. Precious, there are no fishes in this water. No fishes. We likes fishes, precious. Raw and wriggling. Tasty they are.”

Legolas stared at Gollum, wondering what water he was talking about. Legolas was rather bored, and therefore felt compelled to correct Gollum.

“Gollum, there is no water here. We are at the top of a tree.” Legolas tried to begin a rational conversation. “Why do you call yourself Gollum anyways?”

Of course, it never worked. If any of the elves spoke to him, Gollum would commence his ‘nasty elfses’ tirade. He never seemed to exhaust this particular subject.

“Cruel they are, precious. Elfses. They hurt us, poor Gollum. Yes, they have nasty light about them, yes.”

Legolas had had enough for the day. He signaled to Lebanuir, and the guard bound Gollum’s hands, to escort him back to the dungeons. Neither Legolas nor Lebanuir noticed the mischievous gleam to Gollum’s eyes.

Adar- “Father” (ada- “dad/dy”)

Iôn Nín- “My son”

Naneth- “Mother” (nana- “mom/my”)