4.  Sweet Soldier Boy

 

 

 

Legolas appeared at breakfast the next morning in a surly mood.  He mumbled a cursory greeting to Thranduil, then sat down and poked halfheartedly at his plate of chestnuts and onions.  Thranduil noted the dark rings beneath Legolas's eyes with some alarm.  Clearly, Legolas had not slept well, but Thranduil had not heard him crying out.

 

"Did you dream last night?" Thranduil asked, carefully keeping his tone light and conversational.

 

Legolas glanced briefly at him, then turned away.  "Yes."

 

"What did you dream?"

 

Another flicker of eyes.  "I dreamed of the sea again.  You need not concern yourself with my nightmares.  They will not go away."

 

Thranduil laced his fingers together.  "Perhaps they will ease over time."

 

"But they will not go away!"  Legolas slammed his fist down on the table.  "I am sorry, Ada.  I cannot defend the settlement on patrol during the day, and I cannot sleep through the night.  You must be ashamed to have such a useless son."  He bowed his head and twisted away when Thranduil reached out to him.

 

"Legolas, stop this," Thranduil said gently.  "It is true that I am worried about you, but I am not ashamed to be your father.  I am proud of what you did, even as I mourn your battle wounds."

 

"I have no wounds," Legolas said.  He rose and walked away from the table, his food remaining uneaten on the table. 

 

Thranduil signaled to the waitstaff.  "Please take his plate back to the kitchen and keep it for him," he said.  "Perhaps he will be hungry later in the morning."

 

The servant nodded and removed Legolas's plate.  Thranduil finished his own meal and then went to seek out Luindil.

 

 

 

A short time later, Thranduil paced back and forth before his throne in the Great Hall.  Luindil stood in his accustomed place next to the throne and watched him.  "I do not know what to do with him," Thranduil said, raking his fingers through his hair.  "I sent him to Elrond in part so that he might find some respite and healing from last summer's attack.  He has returned to me in more distress than when he left."

 

Luindil raised an eyebrow.  "That is surely not the fault of Lord Elrond."

 

"No.  No, it is not.  It is the fault of this cruel War that has intervened."  Thranduil resumed his pacing.  "My son is whole in body, but he is broken.  He needs something that I cannot give him, and I do not know what to do."

 

"Broken?"  Luindil's expression turned inward for a moment.  "That is not the first time that you have used that word to describe Legolas."

 

Thranduil stopped and fixed Luindil with his gaze for a moment.  Then, dropping his gaze, he stepped up on the dais and sat heavily on the throne, tilting his head back and staring at the high ceiling of the Great Hall.  He pondered Luindil's words for a while, sorting through the jumble of memories that sprang to his mind.  There was pain there, grief, shame and fear as well, but there was also hope.  Thranduil felt the faint stirrings of an idea.  He turned to Luindil and held out his hand.

 

"May I see the list of business for this morning?" he asked.

 

Luindil placed the parchment in his hand.  Thranduil unrolled it and quickly read through the names of those who had made appointments to see him that day to discuss one thing or another.  His eyes lit on one name in particular, and a slow smile spread across his face.  "Perhaps this might work," he murmured.  "I think it is not too late to ask."

 

"To ask what, King Thranduil?"

 

Thranduil handed Luindil the list and pointed to a name halfway down the page.  "Mistress Innil, the dancing mistress.  She might be able to help Legolas."

 

Luindil nodded thoughtfully.  "It is certainly possible.  You found aid and healing with her yourself, once.  At any rate, it cannot hurt to ask."

 

"Let us hope that this magic works as it once did," Thranduil said, sitting up a little straighter.  "I will mention it to Mistress Innil when she comes to see me today.  See if the first petitioner has arrived.  We must begin this day's work."

 

Luindil opened the doors and admitted the first petitioner to the Great Hall.  Thranduil listened attentively to the requests and suggestions, answering those questions that he could answer easily and referring more difficult problems to others who might have the resources to solve them.  He approved a request to turn an unused clearing into a vegetable garden and set aside a request from the Raft-elves to adjust the river tolls until he could discuss it at the next meeting of his council.  Galion gave him a list of the supplies laid in for the winter, and Thranduil nodded his approval.  Meals would not be extravagant, but the Wood-elves seemed to be in no danger of starvation this year.

 

Finally, Luindil announced the arrival of the one person Thranduil had waited all morning to see.  Mistress Innil glided into the Great Hall and dropped a low, graceful curtsey.  "Greetings, my Lord," she said.  "I have come to request six measures of doeskin from the tanner.  We must replace the tunics for the Stag Dancers in the Masque this year.  I had kept them in my home, and they were destroyed in the fire."

 

"Agreed, Mistress Innil."  Thranduil rose from the throne and collected a piece of parchment, quill and ink, and his lap desk from a cabinet behind the throne.  He wrote out the order to the tanner, sanded it, and gave it to Innil. 

 

"Thank you, my Lord," she said.  She curtseyed and was about to leave when Thranduil caught her arm.

 

"Please stay for a moment longer," he said.  "There is something I would ask of you."  Quickly, he explained his request and the reasons behind it.  Innil nodded slowly.

 

"Yes, I think that will be fine," she said.  "In an ordinary year, it would be rather late to ask, but everything about the Masque is running late this year.  I will be happy to honor your request, my Lord."  She curtseyed and left the Great Hall.

 

Luindil smiled at Thranduil.  "That went well," he observed.  "Do you wish to break the news, or shall I?"

 

Thranduil considered the question.  "Perhaps it might be better if you did it," he said.  "Legolas has hinted recently that he finds me overprotective, and he is probably right.  I will come and talk to him later, but perhaps you should go now."

 

 

 

It was drawing on noon when Luindil went in search of Legolas.  He found him in a corner of the garden, sitting under a tree, taking advantage of the relative warmth of the day.  Legolas had brought a lap desk outside with him, and he was writing something.  A pot filled with soil stood nearby.  Luindil made no effort to move silently, and Legolas looked up at his approach.

 

"So this is where you vanished to," Luindil said with a smile.  "It seems to be a pleasant way to spend a beautiful autumn morning."

 

"I came to tend my apple seeds."  Legolas gestured at the pot.  "I watered them and moved them so that they could receive sunshine.  I thought about going riding in the forest, but I had no inclination to do so.  I did not sleep well last night.  So I chose to remain here in the garden."

 

Luindil nodded.  "I am glad that you did not leave," he said, "for there is something I wish to discuss with you.  Mistress Innil came to see the King today, and they talked about plans for the Masque."

 

Legolas set the lap desk aside.  "If Mistress Innil wishes me to play the drum for the dancing again, I will be happy to do so," he said.  "I missed doing it last winter, and I was sorry about that."

 

"We were also sorry that you were not with us," Luindil said with a smile.  "However, we might forego hearing you play the drum this year as well.  Instead, Innil is prepared to offer you the role of the Hunter King."

 

Legolas stared, not certain he had heard Luindil correctly.  "The Hunter King?  I could not possibly dance that role well enough.  Surely, there must be better dancers in the settlement."

 

"That is entirely possible," Luindil said.  "But that does not matter.  The skill that role requires is not so great as you might think.  Innil can teach you to dance it, as she has taught dancers for many years."  He paused, and looked Legolas straight in the eye.  "She taught your father to dance it."

 

"That is true."  Slowly, understanding dawned in Legolas's eyes.  "This is not by chance, is it?" he said.

 

"No."  Luindil shook his head.  "Legolas, we have all been worried about you.  You are unhappy during the day, and terrible dreams plague your nights.  Your father is at his wits' end.  He has sought something to lift this darkness from you.  Dancing as the Hunter King healed his own heart many years ago -- do you remember that?  You were very small."

 

"I remember a little," Legolas said.  "I thought he had really died, but he came back.  I remember how happy I was."  He smiled a little at the memory.

 

"You did not leave his side for many days after the Masque," Luindil said.  "That dance helped your father to emerge from his shadow, and he hopes desperately that it will help to lift yours."

 

Legolas squirmed as he considered the prospect.  Finally, he looked at Luindil and smiled tentatively.  "I will dance as the Hunter King," he said, "if you think I can learn the dance before Yule."

 

Luindil laughed.  "I am sure you can, little one.  You will have plenty of time to practice."

 

"Good.  I will need it."

 

"You will dance beautifully, Legolas."  Luindil looked at the lap desk.  "What have you been writing, if I may ask?"

 

Legolas glanced at the parchment on the desk.  "A letter.  I was writing to my friend Gimli."

 

Luindil became absolutely still.  "The Dwarf."

 

"He is a Dwarf, yes."

 

Luindil sighed and twisted his hands together.  He glanced around the garden as if searching for the correct response.  Finally, he looked at Legolas, giving a small, brave smile that could not entirely hide the worry and dismay in his eyes.  "Be cautious," he said.  "You are fully grown, and I know that you are capable of handling your friendships well.  My mind tells me that you will not permit any grief to come of this, but my heart. . . " his voice trailed off.  "Be cautious," he finished.

 

Legolas nodded soberly.  "I will," he said.  "Gimli is an honorable warrior and a true friend.  I hope that you might have the chance to meet him one day, so that you could see that for yourself.  He bears no ill will towards our folk."

 

"I am sure he does not.  But still, the voice of experience is powerful."  Luindil straightened his spine.  "Are you nearly finished writing to him?  The court session is nearly finished, and I think your father will want to take lunch with you."

 

"I am almost finished."  Legolas glanced over the letter.  "I will end my letter now and then go to the dining hall.  I confess that I am hungry, for I could not eat anything at breakfast today."

 

Luindil smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

 

 

 

Legolas quickly finished his letter, a brief narrative of life in the settlement.  He thought for a moment, then added a wish that he and Gimli might find a time and a place to meet in the coming months.  It was not that he was unhappy at being home, but sometimes he felt the need to speak of what he had seen during the War with one who had been by his side.  When he was satisfied with what he had written, he sanded and folded the letter, sealed it with a bit of beeswax, and took it to the messengers' stable.

 

One of Thranduil's errand riders took the letter and added it to his bag.  "You are just in time," he said.  "There is a message from the King to Erebor going out this afternoon.  I shall add yours to the messenger's bag."

 

"Thank you."  Legolas nodded politely and went to the dining hall. 

 

Thranduil was already there, waiting for him.  There were two full plates on the table.  At his place, Legolas recognized the chestnuts and onions he had been unable to eat that morning.  A pang of hunger shot through him at the sight of the food, but he turned first to address Thranduil.

 

“I apologize for my behavior this morning, Ada,” he said.  “I know that I was rude and churlish.  It was not my intent to offend you.”

 

Thranduil smiled and waved Legolas’s apology away.  “You are forgiven.  Sit down, for I am sure that you are hungry.”

 

Legolas needed no second invitation.  Even warmed over, the food seemed to taste especially good.  Thranduil watched him eat for a few seconds before turning to his own meal.

 

“Mordor is terrifying to behold,” Thranduil said after a while.  “Though I cannot claim to have seen anything as spectacular as the downfall of the dark Power that ruled that land, I recall the time I spent before the Black Gates.”

 

Legolas looked up.  He had not considered that Thranduil had once fought in the same place where Aragorn had led the last desperate stand of the allied Free Folk.  Thranduil, too, had seen the Black Gates open and had faced the horror that had poured forth.  “What was it like, Ada?” he asked.  “When you faced Sauron at the height of his power?”

 

Thranduil took a deep breath.  “It was the most horrifying thing I have ever seen,” he said, “and I speak as one who witnessed the Kinslaying at Doriath.  Sauron was terrible in his majesty and might, and I knew that the Elves under my command could not hope to match his armies for numbers or weapons.  We fought him for seven years, and the outcome was never certain until Isildur cut the Ring from his hand."

 

"How do you put such a war out of your mind?" Legolas asked.  "It is a constant plague upon the heart.  How do you forget what you saw?"

 

"What makes you think I have forgotten?" Thranduil responded.  "I could not erase that shadow from my heart.  I think that it will remain with me forever.  That was one of the things that I loved about your mother; her presence helped to drive the memory of Mordor from my immediate thoughts."

 

"I think Nana must have been very wise," Legolas said, glancing shyly at Thranduil.

 

Thranduil nodded.  "She was that.  And I know that, had she lived, she would have been just as proud of you as I am.  You inherited such courage from her, and your deeds would have given her great joy."

 

At that, Legolas choked a little.  He laughed even as tears ran down his face.  Thranduil reached across the table to cup his jaw, wiping at the tears with his thumb.  "Will you tell me more about Nana?" Legolas asked.

 

"Of course."  Thranduil smiled.  "I have an idea.  Finish your meal, and then we will go riding together in the woods.  It is a beautiful day, and I do not wish to spend it trapped beneath the earth.  I will tell you about your mother as we ride."

 

"I would like that," Legolas said.  He quickly finished the last scraps of food remaining on his plate, oddly glad that his breakfast had been saved for him.

 

"Bring your bow along," Thranduil said.  "I hope that we will not need to defend ourselves against anything evil, but perhaps we might spy some game upon our trail." 

 

 

 

A short time later, Thranduil and Legolas rode together along the edge of the forest.  Legolas thought that the trees seemed to bow and caress them as they passed, almost as if they were happy to see Elves beneath their boughs.  "They like us," he said.  "They are glad to see us here, and they wish that we knew how they love us."

 

Thranduil nodded thoughtfully, but did not dismiss Legolas's words.  "I can see that you have spent time with the Ents," he said.  "Even I cannot hear the trees so precisely as that.  But it sounds like something that the Ents in stories would say."

 

Thranduil's words startled Legolas.  As he thought about it, though, Thranduil was right.  Ever since he had met Treebeard and had been privileged to wander through Fangorn Forest, Legolas had heard the voices of the trees differently, and he suspected that they had been reacting to him differently as well.  He had not thought about the old childhood stories since then.

 

"I suppose one learns to listen to the trees differently after one spends time with a tree-herder," he ventured.

 

"I am sure that is true," Thranduil said.  "It is a valuable skill.  Do not let it lapse."

 

"I will not," Legolas said.  "But you promised to tell me more about Nana.  Will you tell me something now?"

 

Thranduil laughed.  "Of course I will.  I will start by telling you how much she enjoyed riding along this very trail.  We spent much of our courtship beneath these trees. . . "

 

So they rode through the bright autumn leaves, and Thranduil told Legolas his favorite memories of his lost, beloved Queen.  Legolas had heard some of the stories before, but others were new to him, and he listened appreciatively.  Thranduil also spoke of the beauty of Greenwood before the Shadow had fallen on it.  "I hope that we will be able to restore some of that beauty now that the Shadow has been defeated," he said.  "So many of the people have never seen the forest in its full glory."

 

His words seemed to touch something deep inside Legolas's heart.  He remembered another damaged forest that he had seen, and the beginnings of an idea stirred in his mind.  But he decided that it was not the right time to speak to Thranduil about it.  He needed to ponder it more thoroughly and accustom himself to all of its implications.

 

They reached the end of the trail and looked out at the forest's edge.  The sun shone on a swath of meadow, filling the air with the heady scent of rich grass drying and baking into hay.  Legolas breathed deeply and let out a whoop.  He urged his horse forward to gallop across the meadow, and he reveled in the feel of the wind flowing through his hair.

 

"Ada, come and race!" he cried.

 

Thranduil laughed out loud and urged his own horse forward.  He galloped after his son, and they played in the grass and the sunshine, setting aside the scars of the past and the worries of the present for one afternoon.