Disclaimer: See default chapter

Chapter 3: Escape from the past

Legolas stared about him, wearied at his emotional tale, yet needing to find the strength to finish.

“A few days later we received a message from Lord Elrond about a council that was to take place.” He swallowed. “Since it was my responsibility, I was sent to inform the council of Gollum’s escape.”

Aragorn winced remembering his words all too clearly. “How is it that the folk of Thranduil have betrayed their trust?”

Compared to what Legolas had just told him, it must have been like a slap in the face, an added insult that shouldn’t have been spoken. He cleared his throat. “Are you planning at all to tell your Adar about you blaming yourself for your Naneth’s death?”

The look the elf shot him would have fried an orc into ashes.

“Are you going to let me finish or not?” He asked, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Flashback

Thranduil’s POV

Thranduil sighed, staring at the ever-smaller figure of his son galloping away from the palace. They had argued once again but this time with words of far greater hurt than before.

He hadn’t meant to tell his son that he had been an accident, that he hadn’t been wanted. He hadn’t meant to, but the words just slipped out.

Legolas’ face had turned white, and he had swayed dangerously. His wound, though healed would often pain him. A mixture of physical and mental pain would never allow the wound to fully disappear.

Tears smarted the blue-gray eyes, but no hand reached up to brush them away. And so they slid, caressing the cheeks... Some slid off down below his chin and a few slid into his lips. Instinctively his tongue slid over his lips, catching the salty tears.

Surprised, a shaking hand lifted and brushing several tears away, stared at them... Almost uncomprehending the fact that he was silently crying. He rubbed the tears between his fingers, looking at them sadly.

He had not shed tears since his wife had died, so many long years ago now, but now his relationship with his son in tatters, he found that he was alone... So utterly alone...

Legolas’ POV

He refused to look back. Though his heart ached and his eyes threatened to fill with tears, he denied himself. He had cried to many tears and he had let his heart’s emotions take him over too many times.

He knew that Meldar was looking at him, worried not only for his physical health but his mental and emotional stability.

He took a deep breath, then slowly let it release. “Meldar?” He asked quietly.

“Yes Legolas?” Meldar answered just as quietly.

“Help me.”

Meldar edged his horse alongside his prince’s. “With what?”

“Help me face Aragorn.” Legolas said simply. “Help me know I can do this.”

“Oh Legolas.” Meldar sighed. “You know you can do this. You know it.”

“So why doesn’t Adar know it?” Legolas whispered.

“He knows it.” Meldar said confidently. “But he refuses to acknowledge it.”

Legolas pulled the reins back. “Why?” He asked in a tortured voice.

“Because he doesn’t want to loose you like he lost your Naneth.” Meldar said simply.

“So he denies the fact that he ever wanted a son?” Legolas questioned, his mind whirling with confusion and pain.

“Think of it this way Legolas.” Meldar said gently. “You hold in your hand the life of your Adar. You have the ability to make him laugh or cry, you even have the ability to tear his heart in two.” Meldar sighed. “And in return he also has the same gift or curse.”

He hesitated; knowing that the words he would speak could easily break or mend the torn bond between father and son.

“He is only doing the best he can to keep you within arms reach.” Meldar started out. “You may think that he is being too overprotective or that he is doing because he doesn’t think highly of your skills, but it is quite the opposite. He denies the fact that he ever wanted you because he doesn’t want felt he pain he felt when he lost your Naneth. But...” He held a finger up silencing whatever the prince was about to speak. “He cannot help but love you and in loving you he also fears you.”

“Fears me?” Legolas was taken aback.

“He fears the fact that there is always the possibility that you will die, just like your Naneth. He fears the hold you have one him and he also fears the hold he has on you.” Meldar paused. “In hurting him you only hurt yourself.” He gave a small sad smile. “And vice versa.”

As they bedded down for the night, Legolas thought over his guardian’s words and how true they really were. But there was a stubborn pride that refused him to apologize for his own hurtful words and actions.

Flash Forward

“So why didn’t you make it up when you went back to Mirkwood for the two years you were there?” Aragorn asked quietly.

Legolas shrugged, the gesture making him seem all the more vulnerable. “I tried, but the wrong words always came out.” He frowned, trying, needing to find the right words but not really being able too. “Every time I tried we would just end up yelling at each other.” He sighed.

Aragorn shook his head. “There’s got to be some way for you and your father to get along at least for the sakes of other elves.” He said musing.

Legolas winced. “That’s what Meldar said too.”

A low chuckle turned the king and prince towards the previously empty room.

Meldar strode through the balcony doors carrying a teapot and three cups as well as several scones. “Queen Arwen sent me.” He informed them. “She was worried that Legolas might be in pain so she also sent this.” He reached into a hidden pocket and revealed a small vial of a yellow liquid.

Legolas’ lips turned up in disgust. “I’ll have you know that I am perfectly fine.” He stated, glaring at the vial. “I’m not in any pain at all.”

“I thought that is what you would say.” Meldar chuckled again. He replaced the vial in a pocket and setting the tray down served the king of Gondor and the prince of Eryn Lasgalan tea.

Legolas stirred the tea, the spoon clinking against the cup as he did so. He wasn’t at all hungry, nor was he thirsty, but he had a feeling that either his guardian or his best friend would force him to do one of the two and right now the tea was probably the only his stomach could handle. Either that or take the vial of the yellow liquid.

He took a small sip aware of two sets of eyes upon him as he did so. He grimaced as the hot liquid burned his tongue.

“Hot enough?” He asked scathingly to his guardian. He ran his tongue along his upper teeth, feeling the strange numb feel of a burn.

“Sorry.” Meldar shrugged. “I just did what I was told to do.”

Legolas sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“Are your...” Aragorn started.

“No they aren’t.” Legolas interrupted. He winced at the harshness in his voice. “Sorry.” He apologized again, sipping his tea to try and cover the sudden flush to his cheeks.

“I wrote your father a week ago Legolas.” Aragorn said abruptly. “I just received a message that he is on his way and should arrive by tomorrow.”

Legolas choked on his tea.

Meldar carefully pounded on his back.

“You did what?!” Legolas sputtered, still choking on his tea.

“I wrote to your father a week ago.” Aragorn began to repeat himself, but stopped when Legolas cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“I heard you the first time.” Legolas glared at the king of Gondor. “Why did you send for him?” He demanded.

“Well first of all, you nearly died six times in the past fourteen days.” Aragorn ticked off one finger. “Second of all, you aren’t healing like an elf usually does.” He ticked off another finger. “And third of all, because it’s for your own good.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and leveled a stare at the elf, who suddenly felt like an elfling who did something naughty and was standing before his Adar to receive his punishment.

Legolas scowled, pushing himself up and for just a second forgot about his wounds... But then the nausea rushed back and he sank back onto the bench, unconsciously wrapping an arm around his stomach. The few sips of tea threatened to reappear, but with an effort Legolas refused to throw up yet again.

He knew that both his guardian and best friend were watching him, but made no move to help him.

“When do you expect him?” The prince sighed, half accepting his fate.

“Sometime tomorrow.” Aragorn replied calmly taking another sip from his cup.

Legolas grimaced. “I’m glad you told enough in advance so I could at least bath and change clothes.”

“I’ve already had water start to be heated for you.” Aragorn said offhandedly. “And I know Meldar brought some of your better clothes when he came from Ithilien.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes at his guardian. “You knew didn’t you?”

Meldar shrugged. “Of course I knew, I’m your guardian, I’m supposed to know everything.”

“Ha.” Legolas retorted, trying once more to push himself up. He half succeeded, but then sank back down as the world spun dizzily around him. He groaned. “This will never do, I can barely stand let alone receive my father.”

“So you still consider him your father?” Aragorn questioned.

The startled look on Legolas’ face, told him exactly what he wanted to know.

“What kind of a question is that?” The prince demanded. “Of course he is still my father.” He tried pushing himself up again, still not succeeding. “Now would you be so kind as to help me?”

“I need to check your bandages.” Aragorn said standing up, grasping the elven prince’s arm he helped him stand as well.

Legolas scowled at both kings wavering in front of him. “They are healing just fine ranger.”

Aragorn chuckled. “I hope that isn’t an insult, because if it is you seriously have lost your touch Mellon Nin.”

Legolas rolled his eyes, but said noting, allowing the human to help him back to the bed.

Aragorn ignored the prince’s glare, and pulled the ties on the elf’s tunic and forcefully pulled it up and over his head. Easily sliding his knife out he easily sliced the tied knot and began to unwind the bandage.

The bandage was a large one; it started over the Prince’s right arm and ended at his hips. Once unwrapped, Aragorn inspected the long puckered reddish-white skin that was pulled together by long rows of stitches. The largest one ran from the top of the Prince’s right shoulder and ended at his left hip. The shortest one was probably six inches long that ran horizontal across his stomach.

He had gotten so mad, he had told Aragorn jokingly, that he had almost spilt his guts.

Aragorn had rolled his eyes, but knew that another inch deeper and his elf friend probably would not have made it... No matter how hard he or any of the other elves tried.

The two friends had both ignored that fact that one of them had nearly died...

A slight groan from Legolas told Aragorn that the cuts were still taking their own time to heal, despite the frequent changing of bandages and ointment.

The king sighed, shaking his head. He wished that his foster father, Elrond had not departed over the sea. So many times he would turn to ask a question and realize that the other healer beside him was not Elrond. There were still so many questions that he wished he could ask... So many answers he wished he could have in the palm of his hand...

He had taken up, in his spare time of writing a book of all the healing skills he had ever learned. Which in all things considered was quite a bit.

He sighed again, he half thought that it was grief that kept the prince from healing, but his wounds were still very severe...

His fingers gently probed the wounds, ignoring the hisses of pain coming from above him. There was a slight infection, but that was to be expected... In all, the Prince was healing nicely enough in human’s terms. For an elf, that was something completely different. He had known many times that Legolas and he would get almost an identical cut, or some sort of wound, and Legolas would always heal several times faster.

He silently rubbed the ointment on the many puckered lines of skin then re- bandaged them.

“Well they are healing as best as I can get them.” Aragorn raised his hands to show that he was finished.

Legolas said nothing, but wincing got the tunic settled back over his torso and re-laced the ties.

He looked at Meldar then at Aragorn. A plan was forming in his mind and the only way he could get it to work was if the two in front of him to somehow leave...

“Do I at least get the bathe alone?” He pleaded, turning his blue-gray eyes upon Aragorn first then Meldar.

Meldar’s lips twisted quickly to prevent anyone to see the sudden smile. Very few could ever resist that look... Not even Thranduil could resist that look. When Legolas usually wanted something, he usually got it...

So, Meldar supposed, it was a good thing that his Prince did not utilize the look very often.

“Well...” Aragorn hesitated.

And Meldar knew that Aragorn was lost.

“Please?” Legolas opened his eyes slightly and put a slight pout of his lips.

Aragorn looked slightly lost. He had never been given such a pitiful look from his friend before and was quite at a loss what to say. He looked up, pleadingly at Meldar who simply smiled.

“Aragorn.” Legolas captured the man’s attention once more. “I have bathed myself since before your great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great...”

“Finished?” Aragorn questioned amused.

“Not quite.” Legolas smirked. “Great, great, great grandfather was even born.”

“Ok.” Aragorn stood. “I think that I can believe you, just make sure not to wash the wounds with soap.”

Legolas’ lips turned upward in a sneer. “You mean the lavender scented soap?”

Aragorn looked startled. “Is it? I didn’t know.”

“You know.” Legolas complained. “The male elves in Ada’s.” He caught the slip but not fast enough. “Adar’s kingdom would never even think about having lavender scented soap, but here I find it everywhere!” He finished brashly, silently cursing the slip of his tongue.

Aragorn smirked, choosing to ignore the slip. “What? Don’t you like it when men ask you if you are available?”

Meldar chuckled.

Legolas’ eyes narrowed.

Meldar stopped.

Aragorn smiled. “Well, I think Meldar and I can leave you in peace for a little while.”

“Don’t worry about.” Legolas said seriously. “I’ll be fine. I won’t drown myself and I won’t scrub the stitches.”

Aragorn laughed. “I would hope not. I would hate to tell King Thranduil of your death.” He chuckled. “He’d probably raise you from the dead and then kill you again.”

Despite himself, Legolas had to laugh. The description of his father was apt.

And so the guardian and king left Legolas alone with a smile upon his face. He watched making sure that the door was firmly shut and no footsteps could be heard, he then slowly stood and went to a nearby panel.

Faramir had once shown him many secret tunnels leading from one room to another. The one in this particular room would lead him to exactly where he wanted to go. The stables.

His slender fingers finding the small notch in the he pushed in, and the secret door swung open.

The Prince bit his lip, then going to a nearby table he hastily scrawled a note to Aragorn and Meldar.

He knew that Aragorn would probably rush after him with Meldar on his heels, with a whole escort of guards behind them, but if he got a good enough head start he could easily be back in his colony before they could ever catch up to him.

Taking a small candle in his hand, he quickly moved towards the door and once safely inside, the door swung shut, leaving an empty room.

TBC: