Chapter 6: Confronting grief

"I do not want to tell you what to do, Legolas, but if I were you, I would go tell Glílavan and Tulus that you do not really have sword lessons. I mean, that is not something you are going to be able to hide forever," Galithil said while watching Legolas clean his paint brushes. His voice sounded funny because he was pinching his nose shut to block out the smell of turpentine.

Legolas felt his jaw clench involuntarily. It was not as if he did not know that. It was not as if they had not already discussed that. Thoroughly. Several times. "I told you," Legolas said, trying to keep his tone calm as he shook turpentine off the brushes and capped the jar containing the smelly cleaner quickly. "I was going to talk to Nana about it, but she was already cross with me about how we did not pay enough attention to Daernana when we were planting the seeds. She would have been even angrier if I had brought that up." He poured clean water into a bowl and reached for the bar of soap in his supply box.

"But you do not need to talk to your naneth. You need to talk to Glílavan," Galithil countered. "All you have to do is go to Glílavan's office and ask to speak to him. Or, better still, we could go talk to him in his cottage after you finish putting your paint brushes away. It is nearly lunch time, so Glílavan and Tulus will both be there. It will be perfect. You can talk to both of them at once. Easier that way. Gets it over with."

Legolas sighed loudly as he swished a brush around on the bar of soap, trying to work the remaining tint out of the bristles. "I suppose you would know," he said quietly.

Galithil glared at Legolas. "May I ask what that is supposed to mean?" he asked stiffly.

Legolas dropped the soapy brush into the water bowl and picked up two more to swirl on the soap at once. "That you have had to confess enough things like this that you ought to know what will make it easier, I suppose," he muttered.

Galithil sat up and crossed his arms over his chest.

Legolas waved the brushes in the air to erase his words, causing soap bubbles to spray across the table. "I am sorry. I am angry at myself. I should not take it out on you." He paused to wipe off the table with a clean rag. "Though I have wondered more than once recently how you manage to get in so much trouble without going crazy from it. For example, how do you not look guilty when you know you have done something wrong?" He peered sidelong at Galithil. "You never look guilty. I know I have looked guilty recently. I cannot imagine how you do it, that is all."

Galithil flopped against the back of his chair and shook his head. "Not looking guilty takes practice," he replied with a shadow of his mischievous grin playing across his face. "But I must say that I am enjoying not being in trouble for once. It feels good. Much better than the sick-in-the-stomach feeling I normally get when I know I am close to getting caught. Like you are now," he added pointedly. "I think I actually like staying out of trouble, to tell the truth."

Legolas laughed out loud in response to that. No tint stained the water in the bowl, so he deemed the brushes clean enough. Giving them a final swish for good measure, he removed them from the water one by one, wiped them on a clean rag and used his fingers to shape their bristles into their proper shapes. Then he laid them on a clean cloth to wrap them up. As he gathered up his remaining supplies, Galithil took the soapy water bowl to dump it.

"So will you go speak to Glílavan and Tulus now?" Galithil asked when he returned with the empty bowl.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "If it will make you stop asking, yes, I will," Legolas replied, not bothering to try to disguise his annoyance. He picked up the partially finished painting of Aradunnon and Amoneth and leaned it against the wall next to his dresser. There it would be safe and relatively hidden until tomorrow when he would work on it again. "Let me put this away first," he said, picking up his supply box when Galithil headed towards the door.

"You are stalling," Galithil teased.

"How much time could I possibly gain by putting this back in its place?" Legolas retorted. It was only a few steps to his bed where the box was stored. He placed the box on the floor and was just shoving it under the bed with his foot when the door of his room opened. "I am coming, Galithil!" he said irritably, assuming his cousin had opened the door to make it more difficult for him to find another excuse to avoid leaving. But when Legolas turned around, he saw Galithil was still standing next to the table. It was his father that had opened the door and he was charging into the room. Legolas straightened to face him.

"What are you hiding there under your bed?" Thranduil demanded, coming to a stop in the middle of the room between Legolas and Galithil. His dress robes swirled around his legs.

Legolas stared at his father. His face was flushed and his hands, balled in fists, were on his hips. He looked very much like he usually did after dealing with poachers in the forest.

"Nothing," Legolas answered, completely at a loss to explain why his father looked so angry. Surely he could not have already found out about the lie. He had been in petitions until only a short while ago. But guilt made Legolas's heart pound faster as he waited for his father to explain what he was doing in his room in the middle of the day when he should be working in the Great Hall or his office.

"I saw you put a box under your bed," Thranduil pressed, pointing to it. "Now show me what is in it."

Legolas frowned. "Adar, I did put a box under my bed, but it is nothing...."

"Show me what is in it right now, Legolas," Thranduil demanded. This time, he raised his voice.

Legolas's eyes widened. "It is nothing I am not allowed to have, Adar, I promise. But it is private...."

Thranduil did not ask again. He simply strode past Legolas, leaned on the mattress of the bed and reached under it for the box. Seizing it, he dragged it from under the bed and dropped it onto the mattress.

"Adar, please," Legolas exclaimed. He considered holding the lid of the box down when his father reached to lift it, but he thought better of it. He did put both his hands out, palms down, gesturing for his father to slow down and be careful. "That paint is wet, Adar," he warned as Thranduil reached to pick up the palette of paint that rested on top of the other materials in the box. He dropped it on the bed, making the paints jiggle as it landed on the mattress. Then Thranduil tossed aside the cloth that had been spread under the palette to protect the remaining contents of the box. "Adar, that is private," Legolas repeated. No longer able to restrain himself, he reached to still his father's hands. But Thranduil had already lifted the papers out of the box and he was staring at the charcoal pencils, brushes and other supplies still lying in its bottom.

"What is this?" Thranduil asked, his voice a little quieter and more uncertain. He was flipping through the papers, tossing them to the bed, one by one. Barad's picture floated down first. Then, more slowly, drawings and paintings of members of the family.

"It is private, Adar. That is what it is," Legolas replied, openly angry. His face was burning hot, possibly out of embarrassment because his father, an accomplished artist who had painted several of the murals in the stronghold, was now scrutinizing these amateurish portraits.  Possibly it was because Legolas was humiliated at having his privacy so rudely disregarded.  He was certainly not accustomed to this sort of treatment. "Please put them back in their box," he begged. "That is, if you are now satisfied that I am not hiding wolf cubs or dragon eggs under my bed."

Thranduil had been lingering over a painting of Lindomiel, but he let it and the other papers in his hand fall forgotten to the bed in response to Legolas's tone. Legolas did not care. He was furious just now and he wanted those pictures put away, not pawed through further.

"Govern your tongue," Thranduil snapped. "Wolf cubs and dragon eggs? No, I do not think you have those. Practice swords? Perhaps."

Legolas's heart skipped several beats at that.

"Do you have any other swords hidden here or somewhere else," Thranduil asked. "Other than the sword that Anastor just used to break your cousin's collarbone?"

"What?" Legolas whispered. The blood drained from his face so quickly that he swayed slightly on his feet. "Whose collarbone? Not Berior's?"

"Yes, Berior," Thranduil confirmed. "Brethil had to come find Celonhael and I for help, since Anastor ran away and Berior was in too much pain to walk without aid. When we went with Brethil to help Berior, Glílavan was already bringing him to the stronghold."

Legolas felt his heart stop at the mention of Glílavan's name .
 
"When he was explaining to me how Berior came to be injured," Thranduil continued, "Glílavan was kind enough to suggest to me that I have you supervised more closely during your sword lessons and he told me that he had suspected Anastor and Noruil were not mature enough to share them with you."

Legolas closed his eyes. He was caught. And in the worst possible way. Berior was injured and his father had heard about the stupid lie from Glílavan. There was no way this could be worse.

"You can imagine my surprise at that suggestion, since we both know that you do not have sword lessons," Thranduil said. "I asked Glílavan how he could possibly think you had sword lessons at your age and he said that you told him that you had lessons."

That is not entirely true, Legolas thought, but he did not have the courage to interrupt his father to correct him.

"I asked him why he would believe such a thing. No child has sword lessons at the age of thirty-five. You would be barely tall enough to draw a sword, for pity's sake. And do you know what Glílavan told me in reply, Legolas?"

Now, for the first time in this tirade, Thranduil paused.

Legolas opened his eyes and managed to look at his father. He appeared to expect an answer. "I do not know," Legolas whispered.

"He told me that it was not his place to question the word of the King's son. That is what he told me," Thranduil snapped and he glared at Legolas, waiting again for a response, seeming to dare Legolas to make one.

That was how this could be worse, Legolas thought. "Adar," he began softly, surprised at how difficult speaking seemed to be. He had no idea how to explain this.

But Thranduil cut him off. "Not a single word, Legolas," he ordered in a tone that silenced Legolas simply from the shock of having it directed at him. "You may tell me how you got the practice swords and whether you have any more of them. I do not want to hear anything else. After that, you are confined to your room."

That prompted Legolas to meet his father's still furious gaze with a frown of his own. "You do not intend to let me explain..." he asked. He wanted to at least tell him that he and Galithil had been on their way to confess the lie.

"Explain?" Thranduil exclaimed, cutting him off. "I told you that you could not have sword lessons. You got hold of practices swords and told Glílavan that you did have sword lessons. What else is there to explain, except where you got the swords. Now tell me that this instant," he demanded.

Legolas straightened his back and lifted his chin. It was not fair. He should at least have an opportunity to explain what he could. "I did not 'get the swords.' Anastor and Noruil already had them," he answered with a cold tone. "After they heard me ask for lessons and heard you say you would not allow them, they offered to let me use their practice swords..." Legolas was going to add 'but I refused their offer.' He was not given the chance.

"After they heard us discuss the sword lessons?" Thranduil interrupted. "The same day Conuion and I caught Anastor playing with my long knife? That was when they heard this and offered to let you use their practice swords?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes."

Thranduil scowled at that. "Tell me, Legolas, were you planning to use that knife for your private sword lessons with Anastor? Is that why you and he were playing with it?"

"No!" Legolas answered swiftly, raising his voice and not bothering to hide how insulted he was by that suggestion. He was not stupid enough to play with real weapons, even if Anastor was. He would have reminded his father that he had not 'played' with the knife at all. Anastor had taken it and refused to give it back. But, again, he was not given the chance.

"Govern your tongue," Thranduil warned again. "If Anastor and Noruil already had the practice swords, where did they get them then?" he asked, returning to his original line of questioning.

Legolas saw Galithil look at him. Legolas knew perfectly well that Galithil had stolen those swords from the training program, but given his father's unreasonable mood and his cousin's fragile state, he had no intention of admitting it. "I do not know for certain where they got the swords," Legolas answered without hesitation. "They did not tell me and I did not ask," It was not entirely a lie as he phrased it, but it was not entirely the truth either. Despite that, Legolas did not feel the slightest qualm saying it to shield Galithil and conceal his small part in this mess. Somewhere though, in the back of his mind, he was a little surprised by how easily he did this, especially given that only a week ago he had sworn to Galithil he would never cover for him again.

"Did you take them from the stronghold or from the weapons shed on the training fields?" Thranduil asked point blank.

Legolas blinked. "I just told you, I do not know where Anastor and Noruil got them. That statement precludes the possibility that I took them and gave them to Anastor and Noruil," he answered sharply.

Legolas watched his father tense in response to his impertinent answer. He looked like a wolf gathering himself before pouncing on his prey.

"I stole the swords from the training program," Galithil intervened quietly, stepping between Legolas and Thranduil.

Legolas closed his eyes as his father's wrath turned from him to Galithil.

"You stole them?" Thranduil asked, obviously surprised. "While cleaning and repairing the weapons--a task your adar entrusted you with--you stole some of them?"

Legolas's opened his eyes and his gaze darted to his cousin. Galithil was nodding his head without looking up. Legolas took a step forward. "Galithil does not need to be reminded of his adar. Not in that way. Not now," he said, interposing himself between Galithil and Thranduil.

Thranduil drew a sharp breath to reply, but before he could, Dieneryn rushed into the room. In his peripheral vision, Legolas saw his grandmother scan the room silently before calling his name.

"Legolas, Galithil," she said softly, coming to put an arm around Galithil and turning him towards the door. "Go wait in Galithil's room. Your adar needs to speak about this with your naneth before you and he talk about it any further." She gave Galithil a gentle push towards the door. Legolas felt a tug on his sleeve and realized she was trying to move him along as well.

"I am not finished here," Thranduil declared angrily, gesturing for Legolas and Galithil to stay where they were.

The tug on his sleeve became insistent. "Yes you are," Dieneryn replied firmly. She shepherded Legolas and Galithil out of the room and called for a servant to go fetch Lindomiel.

*~*~*

"Raised voices are rarely employed in rational conversations, ion nin. I think you know that," Dieneryn was saying. Her voice was soft, her tone disappointed, but the words were enough to boil Thranduil's blood.

If anyone else had spoken to him thusly, especially at this moment, Thranduil would have responded so heatedly that the person would have turned into a little puff of ashes on the spot. As it was his mother, Thranduil ground his teeth together in an effort to remain silent.

"Indeed, Thranduil," Lindomiel agreed. She was still somewhat breathless from having rushed up from the kitchens at the urging of an obviously concerned servant. "It does not set an appropriate example of how respectable people resolve their differences. I cannot approve of you raising your voice to Legolas, no matter what he has done."

"Legolas lied to Glílavan, the captain of the training program, an officer he will soon serve under," Thranduil ground out, managing to refrain from raising his voice now. "He told Glílavan that he had my permission to have sword lessons and to use practice swords that Galithil stole. Because of these lies--because Anastor had a practice sword--Berior's collarbone is broken," .

Lindomiel and Dieneryn both gasped and covered their mouths with their hands. "Berior is hurt? How did it happen?" Lindomiel exclaimed.

"How badly?" Dieneryn added, turning towards the sitting room door, intending to go to Berior. Lindomiel looked after her, also obviously tempted to go, but torn because she needed to see about her own son as well.

"Not badly, from what I saw," Thranduil reassured them. "Apparently Anastor hit him with a practice sword. Glílavan had already put his arm in a sling and Celonhael was taking him to Nestoreth when I left them to speak to Legolas. I imagine Berior has already been fed a sleeping draught in some tea and will be oblivious through the worst of it."

Lindomiel appeared marginally comforted by that. Then she frowned, apparently registering the rest of what Thranduil had said. "Legolas told Glílavan that he had your authority to use practice swords that Galithil stole from the training program? I find that very difficult to believe," she said, looking to Thranduil for the rest of the explanation.

Thranduil shook his head and spread his hands wide. "Do not ask me how all this came to be," he exclaimed.

"Well, what did Legolas tell you? Is that not what you and he were yelling about?" Lindomiel asked.

"I heard Thranduil yelling," Dieneryn answered before Thranduil could respond. "From my own room, with my door closed, I could hear this conversation. From what I heard, Legolas had little opportunity to speak."

Lindomiel pivoted to face Thranduil, her mouth open slightly in disbelief. "Is that true? You did not even give him a chance to explain what happened before you started yelling at him?"

"Lindomiel! What explanation could there possibly be?" he asked, no longer able to hide his anger. "Legolas was caught doing something I had specifically forbidden him to do and he claimed he had my authority to be doing it. To an officer. How could he possibly explain that?"

"We do not know how he could explain it, because you did not give him a chance to try, is that correct? Lindomiel asked. Thranduil nodded his head and Lindomiel adopted a disgusted look. "You gave your own son a less just hearing than you grant criminals in your court?" she asked. "Thranduil, I am appalled."

Thranduil drew a sharp breath to defend himself, held it for a moment as he tried to think of something he could say, and then released it as quietly as he could when he could not find any way to respond to Lindomiel's accusation. She was correct. His treatment of Legolas had not been just. And that realization only made Thranduil angrier, this time at himself. He turned away from his mother and wife and reached for the decanter of wine that sat on a table near the chairs arranged around the fireplace.

As Thranduil poured himself a goblet of wine, Dieneryn spoke into the silence. "Lindomiel told me several days ago that Legolas had asked you for sword lessons, but you refused. She mentioned that she told Legolas she would try to persuade you to let him have them after the pain of recent events had faded a bit."

Thranduil turned and stared at Lindomiel, eyebrows raised. How could she possibly believe a child so young should have sword lessons. Swords were not bows. They were not used for hunting. To provide food. They were used for nothing other than warfare. Legolas was too young to be learning such lessons.

"I do not understand your refusal to allow these lessons, Thranduil," Dieneryn continued. "You had sword and archery lessons at Legolas's age. Dolgailon had them at Legolas's age. I cannot imagine why you would deny Legolas the same lessons now. But I recognize that Legolas's upbringing is for you and Lindomiel to manage, not me. I have always tried to avoid interfering, unless my opinion was solicited and I will not interfere now." She paused. "But I am still your naneth and, though you may be an adult, I still have the right to at least call it to your attention when your behavior is inappropriate. The way you treated Legolas when you entered his room earlier was inappropriate. When I took Legolas and Galithil into Aradunnon's suite, while we were waiting for Lindomiel to come up from the kitchen, Legolas told me that you insisted that he open a box he had under his bed? After he told you it was private and contained nothing he was forbidden to have? Is that true?"

Lindomiel again turned to stare at Thranduil.

He scowled. "A box of artwork. There is no reason why he should have refused to show it to me, unless he had something he was not allowed to have in it," he said. He saw nothing inappropriate in his demand to see the contents of that box, especially under the circumstances.

Dieneryn's brow furrowed disapprovingly. "But you did not find anything in the box that Legolas was not allowed to have. He refused to open it because he did not want to share his artwork with you or anyone else. And that is his prerogative, Thranduil. Legolas is thirty-five years old. It is natural, at his age, for him to expect and receive some degree of privacy. You were wrong to make him open that box and he is very upset about it."

"He is upset? I had just found out that he had practice swords, naneth," Thranduil responded. Again he refrained from snapping at her only with great effort. "Practice swords that Berior was injured with. And then I see him hiding a box under his bed? I think it is natural that I would be suspicious of what that box contained."

"Legolas told you it was was nothing and that it was private," Dieneryn replied.

"And I had just heard that he had lied about sword lessons. He might have been lying about the contents of the box," Thranduil retorted.

"Nonsense!" Dieneryn replied. "You have not given Legolas any chance to explain this supposed lie he has been accused of making. When has Legolas ever baldly lied to you or anyone else?"

"Never," Thranduil admitted after a long silence.  

Dieneryn came over to Thranduil and faced him, putting both her arms around his neck and drawing him into an embrace. "You are grieving, Thranduil. You are not entirely yourself. Can you not see that?"

Thranduil nodded. "Yes, nana. I do see that," he admitted.

Dieneryn squeezed his shoulders. "You are grieving in your own way. You have seen death before and you know what you need to do to face it and to best get past it," she whispered. Then pulled him back to arms length, with a hand grasping each of his shoulders, and she fixed him with a pleading look. "Legolas and Galithil have never seen death before. They may have seen Candirith and Himion die, but they were not close to those guards. Those guards were not their adar or their uncle, nor their naneth or aunt. They do not know how to deal with the death they have just witnessed. Perhaps sword lessons is what they think they need to feel safe and when you refused them that, they knew no other recourse than to take matters into their own hands. They need your guidance, rather than your anger, to help them manage their grief."

Thranduil wiped his hand across his face. He knew she was right. After a moment, he pulled one of his mother's hands from his shoulder and held it between both of his. "You are right, nana," he said quietly. "I cannot help my son or my brother's son by taking my own anger at Aradunnon out on them. I was wrong and I will tell them that." He turned to look at Lindomiel. "And I will give Legolas and Galithil a chance to speak, I promise, Lindomiel."

Lindomiel walked over to him, placed a kiss on his cheek and slipped her hands around his waist, leaning against him. "I think you had better spend some time mastering yourself before you speak to them though."

He nodded, unable to deny he was still far too tense to face any discussion with Legolas.

*~*~*

Thranduil sat at his desk. Though it was the time of day when he would normally be writing orders and other correspondence, he was not even pretending to work. Instead he was alone, endeavoring to master his temper, as Lindomiel and Dieneryn had suggested he do. He felt a bit like a child sent to his room to think about his misdeeds, but Thranduil could not deny that they were right. His wife's accusation of injustice--'a less just hearing than you grant criminals in your court' --stung more than Thranduil liked to admit. Especially since he knew she was correct.

He simply could not imagine what Legolas thought he could say to begin to excuse what he had done.

Thranduil took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Then he stood and paced from behind his desk past the table in the office, to the door and back to the desk. If he tried to be reasonable, which was difficult, he doubted Legolas completely understood everything that he did wrong. Someone was going to have to explain to him the impact of such a lie, to an officer, especially given Legolas's place in this realm. The word of the King's son, as Glílavan had put it. He knew he was going to have to be in much better control to properly impress the importance of that explanation on Legolas. Unfortunately, the impending loss of his mother, so soon after losing Aradunnon and Amoneth, did not serve to sooth Thranduil's temper. He blew out another breath and sat heavily in one of the chairs at the table in an effort to stop pacing. It was only making him more tense.

A knock on the office door caused him to spin towards it. "I told you that it would not be wise to interrupt me," Thranduil practically growled as the door to his office opened a crack. He frowned as the person opening it hesitated only a moment and then stepped fully into the room. It was Tulus, dressed wearing the ornaments of his new position as a member of the King's guard, and towing a plainly reluctant Glílavan behind him.

"I understand that you are...currently preoccupied, my lord," Tulus said. His voice was quiet, still holding a bit of the nervousness that Tulus occasionally displayed in the King's presence, but it was determined. "Glílavan mentioned to me what happened with Berior and what he told you when you and he spoke afterwards. We agreed that we have more information on this topic that you need to hear and I beg you to listen to us." He had undoubtedly concluded his request as he did in response to the growing irritation in Thranduil's expression.

Having just been admonished for not giving Legolas a fair hearing, Thranduil was not anxious to do the same to Tulus and Glílavan.  He gestured for them to join him at the table. Not speaking allowed him to better hide his impatience.

Tulus sat, as he always did, on the edge of his chair as if he wanted to flee, hands tightly clasped in his lap. Glílavan studied his father's posture a long moment and then looked at Thranduil with an openly worried expression.

Thranduil was in no mood to attempt to allay their fears. "What did did you want to tell me?" he asked brusquely.

Tulus looked at his son expectantly and, under his father's eye, Glílavan straightened and seemed to find his courage. "When you and I were discussing how Berior came to be injured, I may not have spoken as...precisely as I should have, my lord," Glílavan began in a voice that was almost normal. He was even managing to meet Thranduil's gaze until Thranduil raised his eyebrows. Then Glílavan looked down at his hands in his lap, something Thranduil had seen Tulus do many time before. "I said that Legolas told me that he had sword lessons, and, thinking back more carefully, I realize that is not exactly how it happened."

"What?" Thranduil asked, leaning forward. A wave of guilt washed over him. If he had just spent the better part of the day yelling first at Legolas and then at Lindomiel for no reason what-so-ever, he would never live down the fact that he had not given Legolas a chance to defend himself! But Legolas had not tried to deny what he had been accused of. Surely if he had not been involved with the supposed sword lessons at all, he would have declared that outright.

Glílavan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "You see, it was not Legolas that said he had sword lessons. It was actually Anastor that claimed Legolas had sword lessons."

The frown returned to Thranduil's face. "If Legolas did not correct that lie, if he allowed you to believe it, there is no difference between that and telling the lie himself. That sort of behavior is not something I will have the slightest tolerance for, Glílavan. Legolas knows that. He was raised better."

"No doubt about that, my lord," Tulus interjected quietly.

Thranduil focused on Tulus, relieved that he thought that despite the evidence to the contrary that Legolas had supplied.  

"If you will let Glílavan continue, you will see that Legolas did make some effort to correct that lie, even if he was not successful in doing so," Tulus finished.

Thranduil looked back at Glílavan expectantly. "I would very much like to hear how Legolas could possibly intend to speak, but fail to do so. In my experience, Legolas does not have any problems expressing himself."

Tulus laughed at that. "Indeed not, which is why his behavior during this conversation was so suspect--he was not expressing himself as forcefully as he normally does at all. But Glílavan does not know Legolas well enough to recognize that. I do." He looked at his son. "Tell him, Glílavan."

Glílavan nodded and spoke quickly, clearly anxious to end this conversation. "Legolas did try to tell me something after Anastor claimed he had sword lessons. I was not really paying attention to him. You see, from my point of view, whether or not Legolas had permission to have those swords, Anastor and Noruil certainly did not have permission to play with them and that is what they were doing, so my first priority was to try to stop that. And then Anastor said something about Legolas not having to do the footwork drills Langon is famous for..."

That caused Thranduil to laugh disbelievingly. "Anyone would recognize that as a lie! If I did those despicable drills for what seemed like an entire Age, you may rest assured Legolas will do them too," he could not help but mutter.

"Precisely!" Glílavan exclaimed, taking encouragement from the King's apparent agreement with his point of view. "So I was lecturing them about the importance of the footwork drills. You have to understand, I have been an officer in the training program for thirty-five years. Lecturing about these thing comes naturally at this point. I did not realize Legolas was trying to tell me something entirely different. When he said he was only there to get his cousins to go plant seeds, I did not understand him to mean that he did not have sword lessons. I thought he only meant he was not there to have a lesson at that moment. So I told him, when he practiced in the future, to not to let Anastor play with his swords and I told him to be sure to not let Langon catch him playing with them. I thought I was giving him good advice. I did not realize I was not listening to what he was trying to tell me."

Thranduil thought about that silently for a long moment, feeling that wave of guilt threatening him again. Then he looked at Tulus. "So you were listening to Legolas during this interchange? Do you think he did the best he could to contradict Anastor's lie?"

Tulus pressed his lips into a thin line. "The best he could?" he repeated after a moment. "No," he admitted quietly, "not the best he could. But he did seem to be trying to correct it. He just kept getting interrupted until finally, the other children, including Berior and Brethil, pulled him away."

Thranduil scowled in response to that assessment. Apparently his mother and wife were completely correct. A discussion with Legolas to determine what precisely had been his intent was certainly in order. And Thranduil was curious about one other detail. "Where was Galithil through all this? Did he also try to correct Anastor, or was he one of the children trying to pull Legolas off before he had the chance to correct him?" he asked.

"Galithil was not there at all, my lord," Tulus answered and Glílavan nodded his head in agreement.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows at that.

*~*~*

Nearly an hour after Tulus and Glílavan had taken their leave of him, Thranduil emerged from his office in a considerably calmer mood. He even managed a faint smile to the guard that snapped to attention when he opened his office door. He walked down the corridor, not entirely decided upon his destination and he paused outside the door to Galithil's chambers. He wondered if both Galithil and Legolas were still there after being herded into it so unceremoniously earlier that afternoon.  He was considering checking on them, but before he could even fully turn towards the door to open it, Lindomiel emerged from the sitting room.

"I need to tell you something before you speak to them," she said urgently.

He raised his eyebrows as she rushed toward him.

"Crithad brought Brethil to see you, but since you were gathering yourself in your office, I insisted they speak to me instead," she said, taking his arm as if to hold him in place. "Brethil, at his adar's urging, was here to confess to you that he was with Legolas yesterday when Glílavan caught them with the practice swords. Brethil said he thought Legolas intended to tell Glílavan the truth, but he and Berior did not want him to do it, so they pulled him off before he could. He said they did it because they wanted to be able to use the swords that Anastor and Noruil had. They knew Glílavan would confiscate them if he learned the truth. And Brethil said it was not Legolas that made up the lie..."

"It was Anastor that did it," Thranduil finished, pulling Lindomiel's hand from his arm, raising it to his lips and kissing it.

Lindomiel smiled at the gesture. "How did you know that?" she asked.

"Tulus and Glílavan came to speak to me. In order to more accurately report what happened yesterday, they said," Thranduil explained.

"I told your guard not to let anyone bother you. He intercepted Crithad. I wonder why he did not intercept Tulus as well," Lindomiel mused.

"Most likely because Tulus is one of my guards now. He can enter any room in this stronghold, including the one I am in, if he feels he is justified. No one will stop him," Thranduil answered. He did appreciate her efforts to ensure his privacy while he calmed down.

Lindomiel looked up at him, sidelong, with a teasing expression. "It seems it is just as well that they were able to speak to you. And you listened to them, at least."

Thranduil was pleased, as well as surprised, to see that Lindomiel's gentle barb did not inflame his temper. He kissed her cheek. "I think I will go listen to Legolas and Galithil now," he said, giving her hand on his arm a pat before releasing it and turning towards Galithil's door.

*~*~*

Legolas and Galithil both jumped to their feet and watched Thranduil warily as he entered the room alone. Legolas was still angry at his father. On the one hand, he knew he brought a good portion of this treatment on himself. He should not have allowed Anastor's lie to go uncorrected. But even so, Legolas did not really think that gave his father the right to disregard his privacy. He knew it did not give his father the right to refuse to allow him to defend himself to the extent he could.

Thranduil sat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace in the main room of the suite and gestured for Legolas and Galithil to join him.

They silently went and stood in front of him. Legolas made a conscious effort to make his face as expressionless as possible, lest his anger be misconstrued as defiance and earn him even more trouble.

"Let us try this again," Thranduil began in a very quiet, neutral tone of voice. "Legolas, please explain to me why Glílavan believes you have sword lessons."

For a brief moment, surprise showed on Legolas's face before he did his best to return his father's gaze blandly. At least his father wanted to listen now. Well, Legolas was determined to tell as much of the story as he could all at once in case his father lost his temper again. So he started speaking in a rush. "Glílavan caught us--Berior, Brethil, Anastor, Noruil and I--with two practice swords in the forest yesterday. As I already told you, Anastor suggested to me that we should practice with them on our own, since you would not allow us to have lessons. At first I told him I would not do it, but then I changed my mind and I did go with them two days ago to practice with the swords. Since then, I had already changed my mind about doing it again," Legolas hurried to add. "Well, to be honest, after you told Galithil and I about the guards, I decided it would be impossible to hide it, so I was not going to do it anymore," he admitted. "Yesterday, I had only gone to get Berior and Brethil to take them to plant seeds with daernana, when Glílavan caught us. And it was not me that told Glílavan that I have sword lessons. Anastor made that up. I tried to tell Glílavan it was not true. I meant to tell him. But he kept interrupting me, talking about drills, and Anastor swung at me with the sword to divert the conversation." Legolas watched anger flare in his father's eyes in response to that, so he hurried on without pausing to give his father an opportunity to interrupt. "So I never got a chance to tell Glílavan the truth. But I swear to you, just as you came in to tell us what happened to Berior, Galithil and I were on our way out to speak to Glílavan and tell him the truth. We were just saying how we ought to be able to catch both Glílavan and Tulus eating lunch in their cottage together, so we could tell them both at the same time." Legolas watched an eyebrow go up in response to that. "It is true, Adar, I swear it. And it is also true that Galithil had nothing to do with this..."

"Legolas," Galithil warned.

"Quiet, Galithil," he ordered, without looking at his cousin. "You did not have anything to do with it. Galithil refused to go practice with the swords from the first time Anastor suggested it and every time afterward. He never went with us and he told me not to go either. And if he took the practice swords, he did it a long time ago. And I never saw him play with them. Ever. I did not even know Anastor and Noruil had the swords until two days ago, So I do not think Galithil should be in trouble. Only I should be."

Thranduil turned to Galithil. "True?" he asked, quietly. "Did you refuse to participate in these sword lessons? And what is the whole story behind how Anastor came to have the swords?"

Galithil looked down at his feet. "I did refuse to participate in the sword lessons, because I promised you that I would not do anything else stupid and I mean to keep that promise. But I did steal the swords. As Legolas said, it was a long time ago. Years ago. I took them from the training program's weapons shed, played with them a few times with Anastor and Noruil and I never really saw them again. But I knew when I took them that what I was doing was wrong. I knew it violated the trust Adar put in me. I do not expect it to go unpunished."

Legolas loosed a frustrated sigh in response to that.

"Even if you did that 'years ago,' Galithil, I do not think I can ignore it now," Thranduil replied gently. "It was indeed very wrong. I think I will suggest to Dolgailon that you not be permitted to return to the duty of cleaning the training weapons for at least a few months, but that will be his decision, as troop commander. I do insist that you tell both Dolgailon and Glílavan, since he is now the captain of the training program, that you took those swords and apologize for it. And the swords must be returned to Dolgailon. I will tell him to expect them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, uncle," Galithil replied.

"I suppose it is a waste of my time to ask if you alone took the swords or if you had some help in that deed?" Thranduil asked.

Galithil remained silent and did not look at Thranduil.

"Very well," Thranduil replied.

Legolas rolled his eyes at his cousin's insistence on protecting Anastor and Noruil.  They were certainly involved. Fortunately, there was no doubt his father knew that as well.

Thranduil leaned forward in his chair enough to grasp Galithil's arm and give it an encouraging squeeze. "I do not doubt that it was difficult for you to refuse to go with your cousins to play with the practice swords. I am very proud of you for not doing it."

Galithil did not look up. Instead he bit his lower lip and nodded.

Thranduil released Galithil's arm and turned back to Legolas. "I would like to better understand why you would do such a thing, Legolas. Outright disobedience is not like you at all. Nor is lying. Though I do give you credit for whatever efforts you might have made to correct the lie, I confess I am very surprised you did not simply call it out for what it was when Anastor said it."

Legolas grimaced, but he also nodded. "I do regret not doing that, Adar," he said earnestly. "I said to Galithil yesterday that the way I left things with Glílavan was a mess. I should have just said 'that is a lie' the moment Anastor told the lie, but I..." he frowned and looked down. "For a moment I thought it might work. If Tulus believed that, then he would not question it if he saw us using the practice swords and we would be able to continue practicing. I knew the moment I thought it that it was wrong, not to mention stupid, and destined to fail because Tulus would surely innocently mention the supposed sword lessons to someone at some point. But in the time it took me to think that through, Glílavan was already going on about foot work drills and...I lost my opportunity to fix it immediately."

"Are you telling me that if you were certain you could have gotten away with it, you would not have corrected the lie?" Thranduil asked. There was now a definite edge on his voice that he could not conceal.

Legolas stood a little straighter. He was not afraid to have this argument with his father, even if Galithil was shooting him a warning glare. "The lie?," he began. "No, I was never really tempted to try to get away with the lie. Glílavan is a captain. I know I can not lie to him and expect him to trust me when I serve under him. So I would not have let the lie go uncorrected, even if I was certain I could get away with it for a while. But practicing with the swords, even though you had told us we could not do it..." Legolas paused and met Thranduil's gaze unflinchingly. "I will not deny that, if not for the fact that you intended to assign us guards, making it impossible to get away with, I would have done it. I do not think it was fair of you to refuse us that training without even listening to why we wanted it, especially when you had the same training when you were my age."

Galithil loosed a quiet whistle and shook his head.

Thranduil's posture stiffened considerably. "Your daernaneth told you I had weapons training as a child, did she?" he asked.

Legolas frowned. "No, you did. You said you fought with your own sword when Menegroth was attacked by the dwarves. If you had your own sword, it stands to reason you were training to use it. Why would you have a sword if you could not use it for anything? That would be a waste of a valuable weapon. And you were our age when Menegroth was attacked. So, you must have had sword lessons when you were our age."

"I was forty," Thranduil countered.

"Small difference," Legolas replied. "And even so, you were forty when Menegroth was first attacked. And at that time, you knew how to fight well enough to kill a dwarf, so you must have had some training before then. When you were our age," Legolas argued.

Thranduil shook his head. "So you feel that you are justified in disobeying me because, when I was young, I had sword lessons, but I will not agree to allow you to have the same lessons?" he asked, with an obvious effort to keep his tone even. "Legolas, I was the High King's nephew. My adar and both my daeradars were captains of his warriors. Doriath was under constant threat from the forces of Morgoth. It was my station in life to become a warrior and fight to defend Doriath. Naturally I had weapons training."

Legolas laughed at that, assuming his father must be joking, because it was the single most flawed argument Legolas had ever heard. Then he gaped at his father when he appeared to be serious. A glance at Galithil showed he was staring at Thranduil incredulously as well. "Adar," Legolas finally said. "I am not the King's nephew, though if that argument was sufficient for you, it must logically be sufficient for Galithil as well. He is more closely your nephew than you were Thingol's nephew. But if the King's nephew may hope to be a captain and expect weapons training from a young age, surely the King's son," he said, pointing to himself, "may expect the same. I am the King's first born son and his heir. Surely, I am expected to know something about warfare."

Thranduil frowned angrily. "Legolas, there is some difference between me and the High King of the Sindar. There is a difference between this realm and Doriath. You are a child. You have no clear idea, as yet, what any of this means. What it means when you say you are the King's son or refer to 'knowing something' about warfare."

"I disagree that we know nothing about warfare," Galithil said quietly without looking at Thranduil. His expression was hard. "I watched my adar die in battle."

"Indeed," Legolas said, nodding at his cousin. "As did I." Then turned back to his father. "I may be a child, but Daeradar obviously believed that, at my age, you were capable of grasping the importance of your future responsibilities to your realm. He did give you weapons training. I am frankly insulted that you do not give me the same credit, adar. And I assure you, I do understand certain aspects of what it means to be the King's son. For example, I understand that if it had been you and not uncle Aradunnon that had been killed in that battle, I would no longer be the King's son. I would be King. Hallion would surely be forced to try to hold this realm together until I came of age, but I completely understand that his duty would be made more or less difficult for him by my actions and the people's perceptions of them. This realm would be more or less stable due to the people's perceptions of me and my ability to take up the role of King in fifteen short years. And I find it impossible to believe that the people of this realm would not like to believe that their King, and his heir, would be capable of defending this realm, given that it, like Doriath, is under constant threat from the forces of Morgoth's servant, Sauron. You cannot possibly believe that I am not justified in asking for weapons training," he concluded, breathing heavily.

"Legolas, you need to be quiet," Galithil whispered fiercely.

Legolas did not acknowledge him and he did not flinch or look away his from father's gaze. He knew his tone had been very sharp, but he did not care. He felt he was right. This was something that had been festering in his mind since the day Berior had joked about difficult duties to inherit. And he was glad to have it out in the open for discussion. He wanted to hear what his father would say about it.

But Thranduil said nothing. He merely studied Legolas silently for several long moments before he spoke.

"Are you telling me," he finally asked, "that you feel these sword lessons are your right in order to better prepare you in the event that I am killed in a battle? You have given thought to what my death would mean for you, not only personally, but with regards to your obligations to this realm?"

Legolas's brows furrowed and he looked at Thranduil incredulously. "Yes, that is exactly what I just said!" he practically shouted, astonished that his father seemed so incapable of understanding what he was saying. "What manner of fool would not have thought about it, especially in light of everything that has happened over the last week?"

As he spoke, Legolas witnessed a sight he had never seen before. He saw his father completely lose his composure. Thranduil's elbow came to rest on the arm of his chair and he covered his eyes with his hand. A moment later his hand slid down his face to cover his mouth. He propped himself up in this manner, face in his hand. Then he opened his eyes and stared at Legolas, horror winning a battle with pride in his expression.

"I did not think about it," Thranduil admitted, his voice a whisper. "Standing on the Dagorlad with an army of a thousand elves, facing a fortress of ten thousand orcs and Sauron himself--it never occurred to me that my adar might not survive that battle."

"And I have heard you say several times that you felt overwhelmed, even under-prepared, when you became King of this realm," Legolas responded quietly. "While I would prefer to never need the preparation, I want it just the same. I am fully aware that is the purpose of our lessons with master Rodonon. But those lessons are lacking in one area: military training."

Thranduil studied him for another long moment before he turned to Galithil. "Your thoughts on this matter? Have you and Legolas spoken about this?"

"I did not want Legolas to have to think about...such things, so I never mentioned it to him and I did not know he was thinking about it. We did not talk about it," Galithil answered, looking at Legolas.

Legolas met his gaze. "I did not want you to think anymore on your adar's death than need be. There was no way I could have talked about this with you without bringing it up."

Galithil nodded. "But I did think about it," he said, looking back to Thranduil for a moment before looking down. "I feel badly for Dolgailon, seeing him work so hard to adapt to his new duties. That is why I want to help him. To do what I can to ease his burden, since it is my fault Adar died. And because I want to be worthy of taking up that responsibility should anything ever happen to Dolgailon."

Legolas hated that Galithil had also been thinking about this unpleasant topic, but he felt a flash of anger at something else his cousin had said. "Your adar's death is not your fault, Galithil. Stop saying that," he demanded harshly.

To Legolas's surprise, Thranduil reacted to the same thing. "What do you mean, 'since it is your fault' your adar died? Galithil, surely you know it is not your fault. You cannot possibly believe that." As he spoke, he stood, grasped Galithil by both his shoulders and was looking at him intently.

Galithil looked away. "Of course it is my fault, Uncle. Adar was distracted by trying to get to me. Because he wanted to help me. If I had not been there, Adar would not have been killed."

"If the orcs had not been there, your adar would not have been killed," Legolas countered. "Please tell him that, Adar," he implored.

Thranduil pulled Galithil against him, in an embrace that Galithil tried to escape, but Thranduil held him fast. "Galithil, Legolas is right. If the orcs had not been there, your adar would not have been killed," he repeated, voice rough with emotion. "If your adar had not been so foolish--so blinded by anger at Tulus for something he did thousands of years ago--he would be alive today. If anyone other than orcs is to blame for your adar's death, it is he himself, not you."

Galithil pushed Thranduil away. "It is not adar's fault that he died," he yelled.

Thranduil again reached for Galithil's shoulders, ignoring his attempts to throw off his hands. "Galithil, Dolgailon told me that your adar was yelling at Tulus for bringing you south. He assumed Tulus was somehow responsible for you being there. He did not trust Tulus to keep you and Legolas safe, despite the fact that Tirithion and Pathon were also with you. Despite the fact that Tulus had once been one of my guards and therefore knew better than anyone else present what was expected to keep you safe--an action he proved himself capable of taking. Your adar refused to trust him to do that duty for you and Legolas because he could not accept the fact that Tulus had repented of his crimes. Because he insisted upon holding a grudge against Tulus for this entire Age, despite Tulus's efforts to redeem himself. Since your adar was focused on threatening Tulus, he was not focused on the battle as he should have been."

"Adar was not focused on Tulus. He was focused on me. On trying to keep me safe. That is why he was not focused on the battle and that is why he died. And Dolgailon knows that. He is angry about it. Angry at me."

"Dolgailon is angry, just as I am, but not at you. Galithil, stop and think for a moment. Try to put emotion aside and just think. You were with Tulus. He, Tirithion and Pathon were already protecting you and Legolas. You were in the trees. Did your adar's actions accomplish anything but to bring attention to you? Would it have not been wiser of him to focus on ending the battle as quickly as possible? On making sure no orcs escaped past his position to approach yours? If he wanted to keep you safe, would that not be the best way to do it?"

"He should not have had to protect me. I should not have been there."

"As Legolas said, neither should the orcs have been there. You are not at fault for this, Galithil. No one blames you for it. Not me and certainly not Dolgailon. No one wants you to blame yourself. I cannot believe the thoughts that have been going through your minds." He looked at Legolas. "Both of you. I expected you were grieving, of course. But, not like this. To be worrying about the future of this realm at your age." He pulled Galithil against him again. "Or blaming yourself for Aradunnon's mistakes. I have obviously not given either of you the attention you needed. I promise I will address that somehow. Immediately."

Legolas was pleased that someone else--an adult--had finally told Galithil what he had been telling him all week  about his father's death. He was so pleased that he managed to refrain from suggesting that the best way for his father to give them the attention they needed would be to give them swords lessons. He knew he was not out of trouble yet, despite his father's temporary distraction.

*~*~*

Adar/ada--Father/dad
Naneth/nana--Mother/mum
Daeradar/daernaneth--Grandfather/grandmother
elleth--female elf