The tears we weep

A lone elf stood in the empty bedroom. A smile graced his fair face, but it wasn't a happy smile, nor was it a sad smile. It was a smile that told of happiness, joys, sorrows and pains. It was a bittersweet smile; one that only an elf could smile.

He walked down the silent corridor and into the great hall. Gently running his fingers against the walls. As he stood in the great hall, memories surfaced.

"Ada! Ada! Guess what I did today!"

"Ada! Ada! Nana's going to have another baby!"

"Ada! Thalion's hurt!"

"Ada, I would like permission to marry."

"Please don't go, Legolas needs you, your children need you. I need you."

"Ada! Legolas is bugging me! Make him stop!"

"Ada! Lomion is pulling my hair!"

The elf sighed. So many memories. Many happy, many sad. He stared at the fireplace. For the first time in several millennia, the fireplace had no fire; rather it stood, cold, dark and empty.

He turned and continued making his way down the silent empty halls. He could still hear the laughter that once rang through the palace. The screams of anguish, the cries of despair, the whisper of what was to come. He sighed. He had spent most of his life in this palace, as had his children and many others. Now they were moving to a different place. He knew Legolas already hated the place, but hopefully his other children would accept that as their new home.

He smiled. Legolas hated dark closed in spaces, as did many elves. But Legolas had more fear from dark spaces than many elves that, he knew.

"Ada?"

A quiet voice broke through his thoughts. He turned to see eldest, Lomion standing in the doorway.

"Yes Lomion?"

"The horses are all packed." He hesitated, looking around at the throne room. "It's hard to leave this place." He said quietly. "So many memories.." He sighed.

Thranduil smiled at his son. Lomion had grown into a son to be proud of. A prince that was well respected and loved by not only his family but by the entire kingdom. He had the respect of elves older than him. He had the boldness to listen and the humbleness to be corrected as well. He was more than Thranduil could ever have dreamed in his eldest. Lomion was a better elf than Thranduil could ever hope to be. And for that Thranduil was proud.

Reaching out suddenly, surprising Lomion, Thranduil embraced him.

"Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?" He asked quietly into his son's ear.

Lomion grinned broadly, though his father couldn't see. "Yes ada." He said, wrapping his own arms around the older elf. "You have."

*~*~*~*

Legolas bit his lip, as he happened to look up in the trees. Tasari was in the branches of one tree, holding on with one hand and a bucket of something in the other. His eyes lit up with a barely concealed chuckle. He watched happily as his older brother dumped the contents on the two dark elves and the ranger. And burst out laughing as the cries of surprise then outrage pierce the once quiet calm morning.

He was startled when a similar bucket of cold water was dumped on him.

Elvish laughter rang through the clear crisp morning air. It was a bittersweet morning, filled with promises and memories. Many of the elves had lived most of their lives in the palace. Many had been born in the palace. There were so many memories to leave behind, yet so many more to make in front of them.

Many things had already been packed and were already at their new home awaiting them. Only the necessities remained and now even those were packed away.

As many eyes turned toward their princes, they smiled. Children. For to nearly all the princess, Lothgil, and the two princes Tasari and Legolas were still but children. Though Lothgil was the one who oversaw the kitchens and all the cleaning, Tasari was in charge of all the horses and Legolas would soon start border patrols, they were, in the eyes of many, still just children. The royal family had suffered, but still remained strong.

In the very center of the circle was King Thranduil. The elf that had seen much in his lifetime. Death of warriors, pain over his lost wife, hurt over seeing his children grow without their mother, anguish of questions of why, loss of loved ones, fear for his children, torment of watching his kingdom slowly turn into darkness, bitterness of watching his youngest grow without a mother, anger of being forced to hear his forest once called Greenwood the Great now called Mirkwood.

Yes, Thranduil had suffered much, yet he still remained strong in the midst of all the turmoil. He was looked to for strength when all else seemed to fall. He was the light in the darkness.

"Tasari!" Four voices rang out simultaneously. Legolas jumped into a close tree and began to pursue his older brother.

"Legolas! Tasari!"

They both immediately halted. They knew that voice. It wasn't ada any more, but King Thranduil. They exchanged worried glances as they climbed down the tree and made their way over to the king.

"Yes King Thranduil?" They asked simultaneously.

"Get your sister and Thalion and come into the throne room." Thranduil commanded quietly and turned and walked back inside.

The two youngest princes exchanged glances again, before turning to find Lothgil and Thalion.

They all entered at the age, Thalion, Tasari, Lothgil and then Legolas. Heads held high, shoulders up, back stiff; each carried him or herself with pride and dignity that would only suggest a royal family.

Thranduil was sitting on his throne. Lomion was standing in front of him, patiently waiting for his siblings, who lined up beside him. All age appropriate.

There were two obvious empty spots. Thranduil felt his heart twist for his wife and daughter, Lalaith and Loriel.

Lomion and Thalion's wives were also there. Standing quietly beside their spouse. They had both decided that Middle Earth was becoming too dangerous to raise a child in, and would remain childless until they reached the Valinor.

They all stood proudly under the scrutiny of their father and king. Each had his or her own strengths and weaknesses. From his eldest to his youngest, he was proud of them all. They were all that Thranduil needed to stay in Middle Earth, or he would have long departed and left Lomion as king.

Thranduil's eyes rested upon each child, thinking upon each individually.

Lomion. Tall, strong, handsome, quiet, calm and proud. He would be a good king if that time ever came. His wife stood quietly beside him, as a wife should. Lainiel covered Lomion's weakness with her strengths and Lomion did the same for her. They were a strong couple, happy even in the midst of so much turmoil. Though Thranduil wished for a grandchild, he respected their wish to wait for a child 'til they reached the Valinor. If ever Thranduil did leave he has happy in the fact that Mirkwood would be left in the best of hands.

Thalion. Not so tall, but still strong, a genius in his own right, gentle, humble yet proud. He oversaw the defenses of Mirkwood's growing darkness. He had done more than a good job. The shadow would have been a lot further if Thalion had not put his own genius to action. His wife also stood by his side. They were perfect for each other. Each calm and quiet, they had the respect of all. Miriwen willing gave her husband up to fight orcs, and in return she was a healer. And one of the best at that. Thalion was never the one to let himself take all the credit, and usually doled it out among the rest of the warrior elves. The warrior elves looked up to him. He was a good leader and what more, a good follower.

Tasari. Handsome, strong, quick to please, and proud. He was in charge of all the horses. Including the stables. The horses were some of the best elven horses around. Tasari took personal pride in his job and it showed throughout the realm and beyond.

Lothgil. Beautiful, quiet, strong and proud. She looked just like her ada, so it was said. Of all his children, Lothgil was the quietest. She quietly oversaw the palace kitchen and cleaning. The maids that served under her respected her and did the best just to please her. Though she looked like her ada, her temperament was all her nana. Gentle, sweet and kind she would make a wonderful wife for any male.

Legolas. Were there words to say about his youngest? Stubborn, willful, a master with bow and arrow, also an artist, very few knew that Legolas was an artist and an excellent one at that. There were so many words that Thranduil could use to describe his youngest. Legolas had a range of emotions that would have astounded anyone. Happy one moment, sad the next. Completely stubborn to the very core. There were several times that Thranduil could recall that Legolas had been injured and refused to tell anyone or receive treatment. He had good friends that watched over him to a protectiveness that Thranduil himself possessed. Though his life had been turned upside down many times, he always managed to piece back his life, often without even himself knowing that he did.

He had been blessed indeed by the Valar with such fine children. He would not trade them for all the jewels in the world.

His thoughts turned easily to the two that were not there. Lalaith, his wife and Loriel, his oldest daughter.

Lalaith. Beautiful. Wonderful. A mother. A lover. The peacemaker. Quiet. Gentle. Loving. Caring. Patient. Though the marriage had been arranged, Thranduil had fallen head over heels for the shy, quiet young female from Lothlorien on the very day she arrived.

Oropher had laughed at his son's wide-eyed gaze and knew in his heart that he had chosen well.

Thranduil would forever be indebted to his father for finding the love of his life. She had born him 6 children. Beautiful children. Wonderful children. His pride and joy. But then she left. Though only a faint memory in Legolas' mind, she had left the others with precious memories that each would hold onto.

Loriel. Strong. Beautiful. She looked just like her mother, but had a temper to match her father. She unknowingly helped her mother's decision to leave for the Valinor. It was she that had quietly taken all of her mother's jobs when she was pregnant with Tasari, Lothgil and Legolas. She had done them with a quiet efficacy that was appreciated by not only her father, but by the entire kingdom. It was her that organized any and all banquets, feasts, including the decorating and preparation of the food.

She had met her husband on one of those occasions. Legolas had just turned 15, and many had had been invited to his begetting day. Galador was a handsome elf from Dol Amroth, who immediately stole her heart. He returned the favor and asked her hand in marriage. Thranduil agreed, and Loriel left Mirkwood forever. Legolas had been heartbroken and often asked if Loriel had gone to the Valinor as well. Though Loriel had written, her absence was keenly felt. But her happiness outweighed the sorrow of her siblings and father.

She and Galador had two children. Thranduil had never seen his two grandchildren and only would see them in the Valinor.

He looked each child in the eye. Conveying his pride and joy in them. He stood and stepped off the throne.

"Must we leave ada?" Legolas' soft voice turned him to his youngest.

The question was also in the eyes of Tasari and Lothgil.

Thranduil nodded slowly. "Yes, Legolas. We must leave, we have no other choice."

With an uncanny perception Legolas suddenly realized why the darkness was coming from. "Dol Guldur." He whispered to himself.

His siblings turned their heads over in his direction, but Legolas was too preoccupied to notice. His thoughts tumbled over each other as each attack took place in the map that he had drawn in his mind. The first two had been close to Dol Guldur and these last few had been further and further from that point in the south. He met the eyes of his father.

Thranduil almost flinched at the realization in Legolas eyes as he pieced together the pieces and got the answer. Legolas was still but a child in the eyes of many, and therefore Thranduil had tried to protect him, by not telling him about his own suspicions about Dol Guldur. But now.

"It's Dol Guldur isn't it father."

Lomion and Thalion flinched at the bluntness. Thranduil nodded. "Yes Legolas. The threat comes from Dol Guldur and that is why we are leaving."

"You could have told me." There was no trace of child petulance in the words, only a wish for the knowledge of what was happening around him.

Thranduil stood before Legolas, his hand reaching out to gently touch the smooth alabaster cheek. "I know." He said simply. "But you weren't exactly doing well when I was going to."

Legolas flushed at the memory, or rather the vague memory of what had occurred.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of." Thranduil said quietly. "We all have our weaknesses."

*~*~*~*

The horse snorted as Aragorn rubbed his nose soothingly. They had been waiting for several minutes now, for the King, the princes and princess to come back out of the palace. As he looked at the huge assembly of elves awaiting their royalty, he was amazed. To say that the Elves of Mirkwood wouldn't be able to hold the shadow off would be a complete and totally lie. Every elf regardless of age or sex had a weapon. Some had knives, others bow and arrows, still others had spears. Aragorn had rarely seen so many weapons out in the open.

A typical archer would have a quiver full of arrows, his bow, two knives between his quiver and tunic, and a dagger tucked into his boot as well as other hidden knives. They grew up learning every single fighting posture known to elf, man, dwarf or any other. To try and capture an elf was hard, but to try and capture a Mirkwood elf was beyond impossible. There lives revolved around Mirkwood and how to make her better. More protected.

Every elf was taught on how to use a weapon. No one was left out. Even the females knew how to wield a knife, spear or arrow with a skill and accuracy that would have probably beaten a male in Imladris. Then again, more than just warriors protected Imladris.

Aragorn's thoughts were broken off as the door to the palace opened and the royal family stood in the bright sunlight. They all went quietly to their positions. Legolas was uncharacteristically subdued. Mounting, Aragorn kneed his mount over to the solemn prince.

"Legolas?" He questioned softly.

When Legolas turned his eyes to the ranger, Aragorn couldn't help but feel slightly shocked. Whatever had been said in the room alone with his siblings and father had been enough to make the youngest prince proud. His shoulders were up, his back impossibly straight, head lifted, chin raised and no longer just Legolas rode with them. But Prince Legolas Thranduillion, youngest prince of Mirkwood.

Legolas gave a curt nod.

Aragorn felt himself automatically straighten out as well. He was in the presence of a prince.

"We are leaving Legolas." His voice was soft. "Father needs us back in Imladris."

Legolas nodded again, hesitated and held his hand out. Aragorn grinned and clasped the warrior prince's hand in to a warrior's clasp.

"Be safe, Nin Mellon." Aragorn smiled. And with farewells from Elladan and Elrohir they rode off back to Imladris.

Thranduil let his gaze rest upon the three young riders. No, young in age only in everything else, they were adults. As his gaze shifted to his own people, he felt pride and humbleness ripple through him. His people. They chose to follow him.

As the princes and princess's took their places, Thranduil let his eyes rest upon each face. Some were dark elves while others were light. Many had black and brown hair, while a few had blonde hair. He knew each and every single face. He could easily recall the births and deaths of many. Such a life as a king.

        * The tears we weep: Are falling rain. *

Thranduil felt something land on his cheek. Then another. Looking up he wonder crazily how it could be raining on such a clear, bright day. Then he realized what is was.

It was his tears.