An Elf

Thranduil drummed his fingers on the balcony rail as he contemplated the moonlight. At least, that was his intention. Instead, he sought reasons to keep his son from journeying to Imladris while knowing he could not rescind his decision.

Elrond, as well as Mithrandir, must learn that the creature Gollum had escaped. Thranduil did not relish Mithrandir’s response, and regretted that Legolas would likely receive a messenger’s welcome to the tidings.

It would not do to look carelessly for any elf at hand to bear this ill news, for all they may be less dear to his heart. His son had declared it his role to bear this news west, as it had been his responsibility to oversee the guarding of Gollum, and Thranduil could refuse neither the logic nor the offer. Once again, he reminded himself of Legolas’s extensive experience in Mirkwood’s battle against the Shadow. He was more than capable of safely reaching Imladris and returning to the Greenwood. A smile sprung to the king’s mind, one he knew would grace his son’s face when Thranduil declared his acceptance of Legolas’s offer, for the younger elf was eager to journey beyond his lands.

Why then did Thranduil waver? True, the burgeoning Shadow needed every bow that would fight it. And Legolas would carry the great burden of revealing their error in allowing Gollum to escape.

And perhaps he knew that, beyond this journey, his son would never be the same.

A shiver passed through him. Whatever fate lay in wait for them, they must all face it, each to one’s own destiny. He could not hold back time, nor hold back his son. He would send him off in the morning with blessings and his love. And wait for his return.