Disclaimer: Own nothing of Lord of the Rings

A/N: Sorry this is taking so long! I am really struggling with this story so don't expect the next chapter too soon. Sorry again!

Chapter 8

“So you think that Naneth leaving impacted Legolas in a far deeper emotional sense than we could have ever realized?” Thalion asked quietly.

“Yes.” Thranduil responded. “And I also think that is why he hardly ever accepts change as well as the rest of us can.”

“What do you mean?” Miriwen questioned.

“Remember when anything sudden happened? Something that was not planned for weeks ahead?” Thranduil inquired.

“Like Naneth leaving?” Thalion said with a sad smile.

“Yes.” Thranduil nodded. “Like Naneth leaving.”

“He was devastated.” Thalion said simply.

“And when Loriel left?”

“He was devastated.”

“And when he found that Tasari, Arielle, Lothgil and Thorinell had all died?”

“We thought for a time he would not make it himself.” Thalion shook his head. Remembering all too clearly the hellish days following the return of the youngest prince of Eryn Lasgalan.

“I had some rather interesting conversations with Gimli before he died.” Thranduil revealed.

“Oh?” Thalion sat up his interest was aroused.

“He told me what Legolas did after he watched his friends die, one at a time.”

“And?” Thalion prodded.

“Aragorn told Gimli to keep an eye upon him.” Thranduil explained slowly. “It seems that Legolas would always leave for a few weeks. No one would know where he went and no one knew when he would be back.”

“He was running away.” Thalion said quietly.

“Yes.” Thranduil replied simply.

“But he came back though.” Miriwen put in.

“Only to face another friend dying.” A voice turned the three elves around.

It was Elrohir.

“Who let you in?” Thalion greeting, standing and wrapping his hand around the other’s wrist in a familiar warrior’s greeting.

“The cat.” Elrohir grinned.

“Come to put your two cents in?” Thranduil asked with a smile.

“Of course.” Elrohir smiled. He seated himself comfortably. “What Gimli told you is true.” He began. “When the first death occurred Legolas just seemed to vanish. We searched everywhere for him. Lothlorien, Eryn Lasgalan, Rivendell, the Shire, Rohan…” He shook his head. “Even to this day we still don’t know where he was.”

“Have you ever asked him?” Miriwen questioned softly.

“No.” Elrohir shook his head. “We gave him the space we thought he needed, but we also let him know we were never too busy for him to come and talk if he wanted.”

“And?” Thalion pressed.

“He didn’t.” Elrohir said grimly. “Or rather he refused to talk about it. Every time we started a conversation about it he would either leave or just clamp up and refuse to talk.”

He sighed. “There really wasn’t anything we could do.”

“You mean.” Thranduil began. “He’s been grieving ever since the first of his friends died?”

Elrohir thought for a moment and then silently nodded.

“You mean he’s been grieving for over six hundred years?” Miriwen asked incredulously.

“Probably.” Elrohir agreed. “But at times I think it was lightened enough to the point where he wasn’t really in danger of fading.”

“But hidden grief is dangerous.” Thalion persisted. “And if he’s been hiding it for so long…”

“I doubt he will fade.” Elrohir stated calmly. “Not after last night.”

“What do you mean?” Miriwen asked quietly.

“There was a difference in his weeping.” Elrohir explained. “Like a dam that had burst open.” He frowned. “I can’t really explain it, but there was just a difference.”

Thranduil nodded. “But there are still a few concerns about him that I would like to ask you about.” He directed towards the young dark haired elf.

Elrohir leaned back in his seat. “Ask away.”

Thranduil grinned, liking the young elf’s ease around him. There had been few of Legolas’ friends who had been completely at ease with the renowned woodland king, renowned for his temper that is.

“What was your reaction when your Naneth left?” Thranduil asked cautiously.

Elrohir dropped his head, unable to hide the memories that flooded in his mind of his mother’s leaving. “Our reaction?” He clarified, his voice rough as he unconsciously brought his twin brother in his mind.

“We reacted with anger.” Elrohir began. “Mainly to cover up our heart’s agony. We refused to believe that what had happened to Naneth had happened. But that was our reason why we…” He faltered.

Images came into his mind…

Black blood smeared on Elladan’s face…

Headless Orcs lying about, their faces twisted in horrible masks of agony before they had died…

Slowly…

Painfully…

Screams of men who had been known to help Orcs, as they were ‘interrogated’ and then mercifully killed after they talked… And if they didn’t talk…

Elrohir shuddered.

So many of the things he had done with his own hands…

He stared at them… His hands were clean now… Spotlessly clean… Not even a speck of dirt under the nails or dirt in the crevices of his calluses.

But he could remember them differently…

Black blood so thick upon his hand that it had taken weeks for them to be fully cleaned… Stained so deep in the tiny crevices that it would have been easier to skin his hands that for the to fully be cleaned…

“Elrohir?” Thalion’s voice gently broke his thoughts.

The dark haired elf smiled sadly. “Memories.” He said as an explanation, but giving no indication that he wanted to continue on that path, Thranduil did not press him.

“For many years Elladan and I did not acknowledge what had happened to our Naneth. Until our Adar showed us how he had been suffering as well.” He frowned. “I don’t think we realized what havoc we played on everyone else’s emotions until Adar showed.”

“So you think it is possible that Legolas doesn’t even really know what pain he is causing us?” Miriwen asked quietly.

“Yes.” Elrohir nodded. “I think it is very possible. But…” He directed a faint smile towards the woodland king. “That doesn’t answer your question really.”

Thranduil chuckled, despite the rather dark mood that had descended upon the four elves. “No not really.”

“Looking back now, I found we reacted with too much haste. We were too quick to hunt Orcs or anything that stood in our path against us. We denied the fact that our Adar needed us, as well as Arwen.” His brow furrowed. “I don’t even think we realized that they needed us as much as we needed them.”

Silence reigned as Elrohir thought.

“There was almost a feeling of instability after she left. Like something had been disrupted. Like someone had tipped or taken something off a scale that before had been perfectly balanced.” He said thoughtfully.

Thalion could not help but grin at the smug look on his Adar’s face. “Enough gloating Adar.” He said mildly. “You have made your point clear enough.”

Thranduil graced his second born son with a very smug smile. “It just shows that you never argue with your Adar, because he is usually right.”

“Usually, Adar.” Miriwen smiled, standing up and walking over to place a kiss upon his forehead. “Usually.”

“Where are you going?” Thalion questioned mildly.

“To check on the children.” Miriwen replied blandly. “Who knows what trouble they are getting into?”

She walked towards the door. “After all, they are your children.”

Thranduil and Elrohir exchanged smiles.

“What did they do now?” Thranduil asked laughing.

“They decided to have a race.” Thalion replied shaking his head.

“Where?” Elrohir questioned, grinning.

“The top of the tree to the bottom.” Thalion sighed.

“Top to the bottom?” Thranduil asked unable to hold back his laughter. It reminded him very much of another two elflings. Namely Lomion and Thalion.

“Who won?” Elrohir questioned.

Thalion shook his head grinning. “Dawriel.”

“And would I be correct in assuming that it was Dawriel who suggested the race?” Thranduil asked mildly.

“Yes Adar.” Thalion replied with a longsuffering sigh. “You would be right to assume such.”

“I told you that get a child just like you and then you would realize what I had to put up with for so many years.” Thranduil laughed.

“And still do.” Elrohir joined in.

Thalion shook his head. “It’s a shame I never heeded your warnings.” He said easily a teasing smile upon his lips.

Thranduil stood and placed a kiss upon his second born son’s brow. “Indeed it is.” He teased. “Now, I must be going. I’m sure Legolas is asking for me.”

Thalion laughed lightly. “Of that there is little doubt.” He sobered. “He always did prefer you above everyone else.”

Thranduil nodded, but said nothing further, and walked out the door.

---

Nibbling on an apple, Lomion idly flipped through a book about healing. Legolas had been peacefully sleeping for a few hours and showed no signs of waking soon, but Lomion knew how quick his little brother could wake.

The door softly opened letting in Thranduil, who smiled at his youngest son’s figure and then at his oldest son.

“Has he woken yet?” Thranduil whispered.

“A few hours ago.” Lomion replied quietly.

“How was he?” Thranduil asked worried.

“He’s better.” Lomion said smiling.

Relief splayed across Thranduil’s face. “Good.”

He poured himself a small glass of wine and sat down. Perhaps Legolas was breaking through many of the walls he had erected around his tender heart.

Legolas shifted restlessly, drawing the attention of his Adar and oldest brother to him, but settled down after wrapping his hand around a handful of the blanket.

Lomion waited until Legolas was once more still and then stood up. “I need to see how Lainiel is doing.” He whispered. “I’ll be back later tonight.”

He cast a smile back at Legolas and quietly left.

Thoughtfully swirling his wine in his glass, Thranduil absently took a sip. In talking to Elrohir and Thalion he had only become even more convinced that Legolas had first become more vulnerable to emotional hurts when his Naneth forsook him. Now, he had only to figure out how to mend that hidden wound without Legolas or Lalaith looking.

He smiled. Though Legolas probably didn’t realize it, he shared many characteristics with his Naneth.

Although Thranduil would be the first to admit that Legolas had more than one of his own characteristics as well. Stubbornness, a quick temper, as well as a quick smile and there was that rather sneaky business of trying to hide wounds that he had passed along to all of his children, not just Legolas. Legolas however was the only one who had been wounded so many times that hiding wounds had become almost like a joke to the Thranduillion family. Except for a few times when the only way they had found out about Legolas’ wounds was when he had collapsed in the midst of something, then of course it wasn’t funny anymore.

Legolas shifted slightly letting out a soft sigh, his right hand groping the covers for something or rather someone else’s hand.

Quietly standing and moving to the chair next to the bed, Thranduil carefully let his youngest son find his hand.

Instantly Legolas settled down. After a few moments of quiet, Legolas sighed again and slowly opened his eyes.

He gave a sleepy smile to the older Elf. “Hello Ada.”

Thranduil chuckled lightly. “Hello Legolas.”

They smiled at each other.

“I’m rather surprised you are the only one here.” Legolas commented lightly, forcing his upper body up. He cast a quick look around the room. “Where are all the rest of my siblings?” He questioned, quirking his eyebrow. “I was half expecting them to be hovering over me as I woke up.”

Thranduil laughed. “No I convinced them to wait to poke and prod you until we get home.”

Legolas groaned. “I think I’ll stay here then.”

“Nice try bratling.” Tasari spoke of from the doorway. He had snuck in after Legolas had looked around the room. “You couldn’t get away from us even if you went back to Middle Earth and hid in a cave.”

Legolas scowled. “Everyone was happier when you were in Mandos.” He glared, though a smile played on his lips letting his Ada and brother know he was teasing.

“So was I.” Tasari shot back. “I wasn’t pulling my hair out worrying about you.”

“Well your hair must grow back awfully fast for it to look like that.” Legolas retorted.

Thranduil sighed. That was another thing he had passed to all of his children as well. A quick tongue sharpened by a quick mind.

Fortunately a few of his children had also received a double dose of patience from their Naneth’s side. Unfortunately the two in front of him had been given less than a single dose.

“Boys.” Thranduil sighed. “Please.”

“He started it.” Legolas declared, pointing at Tasari.

“And you can finish it.” Thranduil said firmly.

“Shouldn’t the person who started it finish it?” Legolas queried, a smile upon his lips.

“No, the person who started it can’t finish it because the person who started it, started it and shouldn’t have to finish it.” Tasari quipped.

“Well the person who should finish it should be the one who started it because the person who started it is at fault for starting it, so he should be the one to finish it.” Legolas grinned.

Thranduil shook his head in mild exasperation, but couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips. Gandalf’s words from many years ago crossed his mind. ‘Never ask an elf for an answer, for they will say both yea and nay in one breath.’

“Well it depends on who you think started it.” Tasari said. “Now I think you started it because you said something that provoked me into answering you.”

“Well if you hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have had to answer to whatever I said.” Legolas retorted. “Besides, it was your own choice to say something when you didn’t have to say anything. So you are the one who started it, so you are the one who should finish it.”

“Well I don’t think I should have to finish something that you started so I think you should finish.” Tasari quirked an eyebrow quizzically waiting for his little brother to respond to his challenge.

To his surprise Legolas just sat back and grinned at him.

Tasari groaned. He had fallen neatly into Legolas’ trap of words.

Thranduil laughed. He had not realized how much he had missed the game of words between his two youngest sons.

He looked at the two grinning faces before him. “You two.” He said in mock exasperation.

Legolas only laughed and reaching precariously towards his Ada, tilting his upper body off of the bed and wrapping his arms around the sitting figure. “What would you do without us?”

“I could actually get somewhere besides listening to you two exchange words.” Thranduil shook his head; his hands easily making sure that the rest of Legolas’ body did not tumble off the bed.

Tasari laughed. He had always loved the easy camaraderie when he was around his Adar. “Then you would just get Thalion and Lomion arguing about something else.”

Thranduil chuckled. “At least it would be something worthwhile.”

“Ada.” Legolas said suddenly.

“Yes?”

“Where is Naneth at?” Legolas asked quietly, his gaze fixed upon his Adar.

“Right here.” A soft feminine voice answered from the doorway.

Legolas blinked, turning his head to face her.

“Your Adar was in a rush and forgot to send for me.” She explained easily as she walked over to Legolas’ bedside.

She reached over and gave him a warm hug. “Lomion informed me of everything thus far.” She smiled.

Legolas hesitated, wanting to ask but was afraid of answer.

Lalaith suppressed a smile. ‘He was so much like Thranduil.’ She thought fondly. “Thranduil.” She gained her husband’s attention. “When have you eaten last?”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

Lalaith gazed steadily back.

Thranduil blinked. Then he smiled, it might take a little while, but he could figure when his wife was trying to leave a not so subtle hint. “Come Tasari.” He rose. “I find myself suddenly very hungry for some of Miriwen’s honey apple porridge.”

Tasari laughed, but allowed himself to be dragged away. “You behave princeling.” He called over his shoulder.

Legolas laughed. “I always do!” He called back.

“Sure.” Tasari retorted as the door shut in his face.

Legolas laughed again. He had missed Tasari more than he had realized.

Lalaith smiled, enjoying the sound of her youngest son’s laughter. It had been too long since she had last heard it.

She impulsively reached out to touch Legolas’ hand. To the prince’s credit, he did not pull back from the cool hand.

“It’s been a long time since we have talked.” Lalaith said quietly.

Legolas nodded slowly.

Lalaith sighed quietly when Legolas did not continue. “Do you wish to talk?”

Legolas glanced down, picking at stray thread on the coverlet.

“I will not push you Legolas.” Lalaith continued. “But if you wish to talk, please know that I will also listen to you.”

She started to stand, but a hand stopped her.

“Naneth.” Legolas whispered.

She said nothing.

“I never realized how much that word could mean before I came here.” Legolas began quietly. “The only thing I knew growing up was that every other elfling had one and I didn’t.”

She closed her eyes in pain at his words.

“I hated you for so long.” Legolas revealed. “I couldn’t understand why you would leave me.” He hesitated. “I still don’t know why.”

She covered her face with her other hand.

“I was jealous of Lomion, Thalion, Loriel, Lothgil, Tasari… Even Adar.” Legolas confessed.

“Why?” She whispered.

“They all knew you. They would tell me story after story about you, but I couldn’t remember you. Your face faded from my memory. Your voice was just another I could barely remember. I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t hear you. I didn’t know you. I don’t know you.”

She felt a tear slowly trickle down her cheek.

“I always hated the fact that you could leave but still be alive.” Legolas finally said after a few moments of silence. “Aragorn.” He swallowed. “Aragorn left and he’s dead. They all left me and they are all dead.” He looked up. “But you left me and you’re still alive.”

There was puzzlement in his face, a question in his eyes. He did not know what the answer was that he wanted, nor did he know the question he wanted answered.

“It seems so strange.” He said quietly. “How one person can leave and still be alive, while another can leave and be dead.”

He locked eyes with her.

“Immortality can be a blessing and a curse.” He said soberly. He shook his head. “Immortality. It is a false word to place upon elves.”

“Why is that?” Lalaith questioned curiously.

“Because we die.” Legolas said quietly. “We die from broken hearts. Spears. Arrows. Knives. Swords. Poison. We die as many men have died.

“But we also live as men do not. They cannot.” Lalaith protested lightly.

“Live?” Legolas choked back a sob. “Do we really live? Or do we just exist.” He turned heartbroken eyes upon his Naneth. “In Middle Earth I lived. For a while, here in Valinor I lived. But now?” He shrugged helplessly. “I find that I am just surviving. Existing.”

Lalaith sat down, her arms aching to comfort, to soothe her hurting son but she resisted, not knowing how he would react.

“But when I look into the eyes of other elves, I can barely stand the pity I see. Are they sorry I have ever known mortals? Or are they sorry that they died?” Legolas shook his head angrily trying to rid himself of his tears.

“They don’t know how to act.” Lalaith said. “No one knows because no one understands.” She swallowed back her own tears. “No one has ever had a friendship such as yours. They are partly in awe, but they don’t understand it. They hear tales of your adventures and they don’t know how the story really ends.”

“It doesn’t.” Legolas said roughly. “The story doesn’t end because I am immortal.”

“Then tell them.” Lalaith pleaded. “Tell them what you saw. What you heard. What you felt. Make them understand.” She hesitated. “Otherwise I fear no one will ever understand.”

“Elladan and Elrohir do.” Legolas said simply. “Lord Elrond does.”

“But how many others?” Lalaith pressed. “I doubt even your Adar understands Legolas.”

Legolas’ shoulders sagged.

“Don’t shut us out Legolas.” Lalaith said. “Just because we don’t understand now, doesn’t mean that we can’t.” She stood and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’d better get some rest.” She smiled and left.