Healing Hope

Chapter Fifteen

The Meeting, Part Three

“It is a wise father that knows his own child.” William Shakespeare

Thranduil Oropherion lounged sanguinely in a comfortable chair on the terrace outside his room enjoying a cup of miruvor, the cordial favored by Imladris, while he soaked up the rays of the waning afternoon sun. If pressed the king would admit that the drink was favorable, though he still preferred the full-bodied wines of Mirkwood. A benevolent breeze toyed with the ends of his silken hair. As he sipped the drink, Thranduil mused over the events of the past two days, especially the measured chaos he had witnessed while here in Imladris.

It had been many centuries since he had seen Elrond; indeed many centuries since he had even left his kingdom. Only the debt of honor he owed to the son of Elrond had enticed him to venture forth. Thranduil could not contain the small smirk that graced his beautiful features as he shook his head slowly. Only his Greenleaf could end up owing his life to a son of Elrond.

Of all the haughty, self-contained, infuriating elves Thranduil had ever met, Elrond was the most…of all of those things. Elrond was like the favored child, always the best at everything he did, he mused. The two of them were like oil and water…Elrond calm and deliberate while Thranduil was fiery and passionate. Even when, fresh from battle, Elrond had come to Thranduil after the disastrous loss of his father, the elf had hardly had a hair out of place. Thranduil had vented his rage and grief at Elrond, and he had not batted an eye, which had only made things worse from the grieving young king’s point of view.

‘Aye,’ sighed Thranduil, ‘I have always had a temper.’ The king smiled. Self contemplation was not something in which he normally dallied. He supposed it must be a result of the vibes of peace and harmony literally washing over him from this valley. How very different from his woodland realm it was.

He sighed again. ‘I am not meant for peace and quiet. My life is more about the daily struggle to protect my realm, my people, and - most of all - my Greenleaf.’

A soft clearing of the throat brought the king from his contemplation.

“May I join you, Adar?”

“Greenleaf! I can think of no more desired companion to share this fair afternoon,” responded the king with an indulgent smile for his offspring.

The Prince of Mirkwood pulled another chair beside his father’s and joined him on the sun drenched terrace. Were it not for his nervousness, he might have enjoyed the exquisiteness of the scene before him, but as it was, he fidgeted instead of relaxing.

Thranduil cast a side-long glance at his heir, wondering how long it would take the young one to broach the subject with which he struggled. Aye, the truth was he was quite content to simply look at his Greenleaf, who embodied all the best qualities of his beautiful mother and, if the truth be told, of himself. Legolas had all of Thranduil’s passions without the raging furnace of temper which too often burned just beneath the surface of the king. His mother’s calmness had banked those flames in the offspring and lent him a stubborn patience, which could at once infuriate and make proud his sire.

“Um, Adar,” began Legolas hesitantly, shifting nervously in the chair, “there is something I should probably tell you.”

“Truly? I wondered how long you were going to wrestle with yourself on that great oaken limb today,” replied the king knowingly.

“You saw me?”

Thranduil dipped his head in answer. “What is it, Greenleaf, that you struggle so to tell your Adar? I have watched your internal battle for our entire journey.” The king arched a delicate, imperial brow. “Or is it, perhaps, something you feel you should tell your king?” Very patiently, to his way of thinking, the king waited for his child to gather the needed courage to address him.

A small, almost defeated, sigh escaped Legolas. His father had known he was hiding something from him this entire trip. ‘Does my face so readily reveal my thoughts,’ wondered the prince miserably, much to the amusement of his father, who was easily able to perceive his son’s morose thoughts.

Thranduil decided to ease his son’s path. “I understand that the young son of Elrond is going to join us tonight for a formal banquet. I have anticipated meeting the one called Estel,” he added with a chuckle.

“Estel is very special,” explained Legolas. “He is…I mean…you will like…um…” Legolas faltered, still unable to speak the damning words.

“Are you attempting, at last, to inform your king that the child is an adan?”

Legolas’ mouth fell open, and Thranduil struggled to hide the twinkle in his eye. Oh, he so enjoyed surprising his Greenleaf.

“How?” sputtered Legolas.

“Come now, child, have you so little faith in your king’s ability to gather intelligence?”

Thranduil wasn’t happy, of course, to learn that his son’s newest “friend’ was edain, and even less amused at his reticence to admit the fact, but what else could he expect? All his life, his Greenleaf had been a collector of stray animals, his tender heart easily moved to protect the defenseless. Why the elfling had once found a baby spider and tried to sneak it past the palace guards. Aye, at this rate he would end up dragging home a dwarf! Aye, but that would be taking a kind heart too far! Even so benevolent a king as Thranduil could not suffer that much of an insult.

“Do close your mouth, child, for it is most unbefitting a prince,” chided the king.

Legolas closed his mouth and swallowed, but his narrowed eyes remained unerringly on his father. “You knew all along?”

“When I learned is unimportant,” responded the king, his voice hardening slightly. “I would have been most displeased had you allowed this knowledge to be sprung on me before the eyes of others, especially the Noldor. I may be an indulgent father, Legolas, but I am still your king.”

Legolas dropped his eyes guiltily. “I know, Adar. It was wrong of me to even consider that course of action. ” He moved to kneel before his father’s chair, his head bowed. “Forgive me, my liege.”

Thranduil leaned forward to place his hands on either side of his son’s face and kiss the silken tresses. “You are as the light of the stars in my life, my son. There is little I would deny for your happiness, but I am also a king, who must needs put the good of his people above that of his own. Let us pray that it never comes to that choice, for surely my heart would break on that day.”

Legolas raised his eyes to meet those of his father. “I love you, Adar.”

“And I love you, my Greenleaf.” The king held his son’s serious gaze for a moment longer before the twinkle returned. “Now, shall we change for dinner? I must meet your Adan looking my best. Your formal tunic has been cleaned and repaired just in time, has it not?”

“Oh joy,” murmured Legolas.

“What was that?”

Legolas could not help but smile. “You tease me, Adar, but I shall dress in my formal tunic for the celebration. Mirkwood shall shine this night.”

“As it should, my son, as it should.”

O-o-O-o-O

Estel was beyond excited as he was led into the Hall of Fire for the gala dinner. He was still pale, for the pain in his arm and ribs throbbed, but he would not have complained for the world. He was going to meet a king for the first time in his young life, and that not to be missed. “How long until the king gets here, Rester?” he inquired for the tenth time.

“It will not be long now, Estel. Ah, see, here are your brothers and Legolas,” pointed out the seneschal.

“May I sit by Legolas?” asked the boy, wiggling like a worm on a hook. “He will be close to his Adar won’t he?”

Erestor kept his face carefully neutral. “Yes, Legolas will be seated beside King Thranduil." The seneschal raised an eyebrow. “If I allow you to sit by Legolas, you will not ask the king too many questions will you? Some kings do not like to be asked a lot of questions,” he added before Estel could ask him why. Like the rest of the elves present, Erestor did not know what to expect this night to bring, for Thranduil’s dislike and distrust of humans was legendary. He considered them to be treacherous and wholly without honor.

“I promise, Restor, I won’t ask too many questions,” confirmed Estel eagerly. The excitement of the evening was even worth the bath and fancy clothes he was forced to wear. Erestor had even fashioned a silver sling to encase the ugly cast on his arm, and placed a slim mithril circlet through his riotous curls for the first time ever.

“Very well,” agreed Erestor. He had no doubts that Legolas would shield Estel from any anger emanating from his father. Aye, this was going to be an interesting night. He could easily feel the waves of anticipation in those already gathered.

As his eyes scanned the room, he was gratified to see the warriors from Mirkwood interspersed with those of Imladris. Erestor nodded to Falathar, who was seated by Beling. Erestor was amused to see that the young commander sat at a discreet distance from where the king would be, but close enough to protect him if the need arose. Erestor had no doubt that Falathar’s weapon would be close by…probably underneath the table where he now reclined chatting amiably with the scout.

A soft murmur from the gathered elves drew Erestor’s eyes to the entryway of the hall. The twins and Legolas were entering the room in the formal clothes of their respective kingdoms. Legolas wore the same golden tunic with which he had covered the bloody and battered Estel in the woods, and the twins were dressed in deep blue tunics trimmed in silver. None of the young ones wore robes, but each bore a simple mithril band around his head. Legolas’ was woven like intertwining branches and the twin’s were only slightly more elaborate.

Estel’s eyes shined as he watched his brothers and Legolas walk towards him. He had never seen them so finely dressed and it impressed upon the boy the importance of the evening.

Erestor gave Estel over into the care of his brothers and left to oversee final preparations for the dinner.

“Legolas, Restor said that I may sit by you!” exclaimed the boy. “You don’t mind, do you?” he worriedly asked his brothers, for he would never hurt their feelings.

The twins chuckled and tussled their little brother’s hair. “We don’t mind, Tithen pen,” answered Elrohir for them both. “Legolas is not here often, so you enjoy sitting by him tonight. We get to have you with us every day.”

“You will watch out for him, won’t you, Legolas?” questioned Elladan, his eyes conveying the deeper meaning of his question. Their conversation on the tree was fresh in the twin’s mind and he would not stand silent and see his little brother insulted…by anyone.

Legolas nodded his assurance to the nervous brothers.

The twins sat one place down from where Estel now sat. He would be between his Ada and Legolas with the twins seated on the other side of Elrond and King Thranduil on the other side of the prince.

Estel smiled at Legolas as the prince sat beside him. “Restor put a crown in my hair! It’s almost just like yours!”

“So I see,” acknowledge Legolas. “You look just like a prince tonight, Estel.”

The boy beamed. “Do I really?”

“You do,” affirmed the Prince. “I would not be at all surprised to see you a king one day.”

The twins shared an ominous glance at the prince’s unwittingly accurate comment.

Estel just giggled.

“King Thranduil and Lord Elrond,” announced a herald from the doorway. All in the room rose at the approach of the Lords. They were followed by Glorfindel, whose graceful strength was such a familiar presence in Imladris.

Lord Elrond wore deep blue and grey robes accented in silver. The mithril band adorning his head was elegantly understated and fit his personality perfectly. He gave Estel a small wink as he came to his seat, for the boy was fairly agog at all the splendor he was seeing. Such formality was a rarity at Imladris.

If Lord Elrond impressed the boy, King Thranduil literally stole his breath away. The King wore a silken tunic of seemingly pure gold which shimmered with each step he took. His robes were of a similar material tied by a silken cord of the deepest green. His mithril coronet was inlaid with emeralds, pearls, and adamants, which caught and reflected the flickering torches making his head seem to radiate a bedazzling light.

As the king came to his place beside his son, Legolas and all of the warriors of Mirkwood smoothly took a knee, heads bowed.

His back to the rest, Estel only saw Legolas kneel. Confused, for he had never seen an elf kneel thus, he squatted down next to his friend.

In that loud whisper so favored by children of all times and places, and easily heard by elven ears, Estel inquired of his friend. “What’s the matter, Legolas? Did you drop your spoon?”

Legolas bit his lip to keep from laughing at the endearing innocence, and remained as he was until given leave to rise.

“Ada,” Estel informed his father, “Legolas dropped his spoon!”

Soft sniggers could be heard from the twins, quickly quieted by glance from their Ada. Before he could answer Estel, Thranduil took the situation in hand.

“Here child, take my spoon,” replied the king smoothly, handing his spoon to Legolas, “and do please rise.”

As Legolas and the other warriors came to their feet, Estel frowned, for he had just caught sight of the movement of the Mirkwood warriors.

“Did they all drop their spoons, Ada?”

Elrond hesitated a moment, unwilling to embarrass the child with the explanation of why the Mirkwood elves had bowed.

“My warriors seem to be very clumsy tonight, young one,” replied Thranduil lightly. “Legolas, will you introduce me to your companion?”

“Uh oh,” whispered Elrohir to Elladan, “here it comes.”

All around the room stomachs tightened in dread.

“Sire,” Legolas said evenly, “may I present Estel of Imladris. Estel, this is my Adar, the King of Mirkwood.”

Estel stood, as he had been instructed and executed a perfect, if somewhat awkward because of the cumbersome cast, bow to the king. “You’re beautiful,” breathed the boy, his eyes shining.

Thranduil smiled. “Come child, stand by my side,” he coaxed.

Estel gave a quick glace to his Ada, and receiving a nod of permission, walked over to stand shyly beside the magnificent king, his large eyes round as saucers.

There was a collective intake of breaths in the room as the king fondly brushed back the brown curls to reveal the softly rounded ears of the child.

Legolas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His father had such a flare for the dramatic and was well aware of the tension in the room. He couldn’t forbear the urge to glance back at the twins, and almost laughed at the identical looks of anxiety on their faces.

Thranduil continued to look kindly at the awed child before him. His mind embraced the sweet and much beloved memory of Legolas at that age, and he gave the boy’s shoulders a soft squeeze of reassurance. “So you are the little Adan who has garnered the friendship of my son. Well met, Estel of Imladris. Great indeed must be your worth, for you have won the allegiance of the Prince of Mirkwood!”

The king was vastly amused by the almost audible exhalations in the room. Oh but he was enjoying himself tonight. He would never have believed that a formal dinner with Elrond could be so entertaining.

Before Thranduil could speak again, there was a tremendous crash and a scream from the edge of the room nearest the terrace. All eyes turned in shock to see the cause. From his place beside Beling, Falathar grabbed his sword and jumped to stand before the king’s table, his heart thudding. Could he not even enjoy a quiet dinner in this accursed place?

Thranduil could not believe his eyes. Two huge white stallions had stuck their heads inside the softly billowing draperies and so startled an elf carrying a huge tureen of soup that he tripped and threw the soup all over the nearest table.

A soft, longsuffering groan of recognition escaped Elrond.

Spying the one they sought, Celos and Celon, followed by a huge brute of a black stallion, bulled their way across the hall towards Estel. A tiny yellow kitten perched contentedly on Celon’s back. Elves and tables flew in every direction and chaos ensued. The normally sedate Hall of Fire was resonating with the racket of a rookery at sunset.

“Celos!” screamed Estel delightedly. He turned a beaming face to the astonished king. “Those are my horses and Fu-Luh-fee,” he enunciated perfectly. “They’re my friends.”

“So I see,” chuckled the king. “And do your friends often attend dinner with you?” he could not help adding for Elrond’s benefit.

As Erestor and several of the warriors determinedly attempted to rein in the horses, who were equally determined to reach Estel, it was hard to tell who was laughing the loudest…Glorfindel or Thranduil.

The Lord of Imladris simply sank to his seat with his head in his hands. He looked up to see Estel and the King surrounded by three huge stallions and one very small kitten and surrendered to the resigned smile that came to his face. Imladris had certainly become an interesting place since Estel had come into their lives. It seemed that no matter how old one grew, there were yet surprises in store when the hope of man was near.

TBC